#my closest friend ignored me today and im trying not to take it personally

[bunnyreaper]

vent post feel free to ignore

it's genuinely weird being in a place with no best friends, no SO, no irl friends...

while i appreciate everyone's sweetness i genuinely don't think ive felt more alone, because while im surrounded by such lovely people i have no one to call my own anymore

[dlysthings]

Little crush pt.6

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A/N: Im so sorry for how much time it took me to write this part, but these past 2 weeks i was sick and ha a lot of sterss at school so i apologise. This is not proofread and english is not my native language so i apologise for any mistakes.

At the woods Daryl was finally at piece, the only place that could give him this scarce pleasure. The sound of the running water around him never filed at calming him down. The creek on which’s side he was sitting on was his little sanctuary, hidden deep into the forest around your town. The sounds were slowly starting to put his mind at ease. He needed that, craved it. After the pain he felt at lunch he needed to take his mind of that, forget a bit about it so he can face it later. It wasn’t the best strategy but it worked for him. If pushing it down until it all became too much to handle and lashed out on the nearest person to him. The only thing he worried about was this person to not be you. Even after hurting him you didn’t deserve his harsh words. He would never hurt you, ever.

But even his own little heaven on earth couldn’t make him stop thinking of today. Why did you not come? At the end it was your idea, so maybe you actually liked spending time with him. Or at least that was what he thought. Maybe one of your friend heard about it and reminded you of the trash he actually was and then you decided to just don’t show up. It should be this. You didn’t want your friends to see you sitting with the “weirdo redneck” the whole school knew him as. And he couldn’t blame you, how could he? At the end of the day he needed to remember who he was.

Still this didn’t stop him from feeling hurt and let down by you. The excitement he felt when he bought the piece of cheesecake, hoping it will bring a smile to your face, was almost overwhelming. His heart was beating like a jackhammer inside his chest. While he waited for you to come and sit, he was thinking how to ask you out. Of course he couldn’t be smooth like the popular guys and straight up ask you. He was thinking that maybe going into the woods and showing you his favorite spots with the reason that was for your upcoming biology quiz. At your house you seemed interested at the subject so he thought this was perfect. And maybe if he was brave enough he could ask you out on a real date. Buy you dinner and walk you to your house. Maybe you would have given him another kiss on the cheek.

Yet that was only om his head. As soon as he saw you with your back to him, sitting with your friends, he knew he shouldn’t have lie to himself. Both of you were from different worlds and he needed to understand that. From now on he would keep his distance from you. Sitting away from you, not staring like he always does. Only this will keep him from being hurt again.

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The next day his plan was on the verge to fail every time you came within his eye side. In every class the two of you had together you were trying to sit in the closest possible seat, the whole time he could feel your eyes practically glued to his head, but he wouldn’t budge. After every class he would get out the fastest way possible. Even though he didn’t even want to look at you he was secretly hoping, deep down, that you will make him stop and explain that you didn’t dump him yesterday, that it was only a mistake. Something like you forgot or a friend of yours needed you for something really important. But he knew he shouldn’t hope. It was useless.

On the other hand, you were desperate to get Daryl’s attention, trying everything you could think of. The first two times you tried to catch up to him and explain why you didn’t end up with him yesterday, he walked so fast that it was impossible to even think of that. You knew he was ignoring you and you deserved it. But the truth was that you did wanted to sit with him, to be in his company again and to get lost into his beautiful blue eyes.

What happened yesterday was that you completely forgot. Until the moment you saw him leave the cafeteria you were so worried about the fact that you just received another bad grade in Science, a subject that you never seemed to understand, and the whole time were thinking of how to change it. It was so stupid and you knew that you had hurt him. The reason was so foolish and the whole rest of yesterday you were thinking how to explain it so it wouldn’t sound like something made up. At the end you decided to be honest with him. You would tell him the truth about what happened and then pray that he won’t call you a liar and never speak to you again. 

You finally were able to sneak up on him after school. Fort the rest of the school day you were laying low, walking in different hallways to not seem like you were trying to catch him. So he relaxed, thought that you gave up on him and everything is how it always was. Not that he was happy, no. Every time he looked around and didn’t spot you within eye sight he felt a little pang in his heart, making him drop his shoulders. He didn’t even bother trying to listen to any of the teachers. He couldn’t make it a day without seeing you. How pathetic. He didn’t even notice your figure standing next to the door he was about to go through.

“Hey, Daryl, do you have a second?” Your words made him jump, turning towards you, looking like he saw a ghost and he couldn’t take his eyes of you. You were looking amazing as always, but a worried expression was adoring your face. Why would you be worried? Immediately he was the one concerned now. Did something happen to you? It didn’t look like you were crying so that was a good sign. The wrinkle between your eyebrows deepened and he remembered that you had asked him a question. “What do ya want?” The moment he said it he regretted the gruff way he spoke and the way your face turned from worried to sad didn’t help either. Good job ya idiot, now ya made’er sadder. “I’m sorry for yesterday” You said with your eyes looking at the floor, not being able to look into his eyes and see the disappointment and pain in them. “I got a D in Science and was really distracted and at the end forgot. I’m so, so sorry. Let me make it up to you. Do you want to go out sometimes?” At your confession Daryl was dumbfounded. He hoped that you really forgot and had a problem, but he never seriously considered it. He was sure you were too embarrassed to sit with him, let alone ask him to hang out with you. And how could he decline that, maybe he was even able to help you out with your troubles. He was always good at science so maybe he could study again with you.

“Ye-yea, I want’a hang out with ya. I can also help ya with science.” At that he seemed too eager so he tried to play it down with a casually “only if ya want’ta” and leaning on the near wall, looking at the smile appearing on your face like it didn’t make butterflies flutter inside his stomach. In a matter of seconds your face turned from sad and worried to a blinding smile. The knowledge that he was the one to brighten up your mood made him feel prouder than he has ever been. “Really?” The joyful look atop your face was enough to make Daryl weak in the knees. No one has ever looked at him with such a sincere hope as you. The attention you were giving him made his cheek burn in a bright red color and he ducked his head so you wouldn’t see it. There was a warmth inside him, going to every part of his body. Such a unique feeling, but oddly a nice one as well. “So... um..do ya want me ta help ya?” He said. “Of course. Do you want me to come to your house?” You offered, thinking he will prefer to be at his place.

Daryl’s eyes widened at your seemingly innocent suggestion. His heart was beating a thousand miles an hour in his ribcage. Last time he came to your place so it was only fair if this time he was the host. And he was too shy to ask to come to your house again. But there was no way in hell he was letting you see the dump he called “home”. You were looking at him with an anticipating gaze. He couldn’t let you down, disappoint you. Just as he was about to ask to come again at your house an idea formed into his head. There was a place he could always go, calm and safe. A place where he felt at piece and wanted to share with you. The woods he always went to calm down was a perfect place. The side of the creek cutting through the forest was an ideal spot to take you and he wouldn’t need to explain his home situation.

“Actually I was thinkin’ of a spot I know. It’s quiet and nice.” He offered and was now anxiously waiting for your reaction. “Of course. Where is it?” you asked. “I can’t really explain it. I can pick ya up from yur house and will show ya. Okay?” Just after saying it he realized how this sounded. He was offering to take you to a place you didn’t know and you probably didn’t trust him. Nice job, ia dumbass. Now she’s gonna think yur some kind of creep. Realy smart. He braced himself for your rejection of his idea. But instead you were on board with it. Even seemed like you weren’t worried at all. The two of you agreed he will pick you up at 10 am this Saturday and later he will drop you off.

After both of you agreed on the details you said goodbye and went on your way, smiling to yourself that Daryl didn’t resent you about yesterday. And the help he offered felt like a blessing. If you were lucky tomorrow, there was a chance to maybe finally make a move towards him.

Daryl was still leaning on the wall you left him at and he couldn’t believe his luck, but there was an unsettling feeling inside him. Just yesterday he swore to keep his distance from you. What if you accepted his offer only for his help? It didn’t sound unbelievable, but you didn’t seem like the person to do so. The joy in your eyes seemed genuine and so did your face. But that didn’t stop him from being afraid he was going to be hurt again. Maybe he should tell you that something came up and he couldn’t, just stick to his previous plan, but he didn’t have it in himself to disappoint you. The only thing he could do was hope for the best. Perhaps he will find the courage to finally do something about his crush on you.

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The time until Saturday couldn’t come faster. That was the thought replaying in Daryl’s head while trying to fall asleep. It was Thursday around 12 pm and he was laying in his room, staring at the clock on his nightstand. The house was quiet save for the sound of his dad’s snoring. When Daryl came home he was greeted with the sight of his father passed out in his armchair, a bottle of beer on the ground next to it. This view was the best Daryl could hope for. The other instance was his dad coming home late into the night and taking whatever anger he felt out on Daryl. After he felt he inflicted enough abuse, his father would go into his bedroom and pass out, loudly starting to snore.

Daryl would almost always stay in his room, in a corner feeling like the weakest person on earth, the most he would do was craw in his bed, looking at the ceiling. On the outside he looked calm, just laying but inside his head he was screaming to himself to finally do something. To get up and move out like Merle, to run from his father. And just when he felt he had enough courage his dad would come with new insults to add on the long list. It almost felt like he was able to sniff out when Daryl felt even an ounce of self-esteem and bravery. Then he would come with blows and kicks, curses spilling from his mouth, making Daryl remember who he really is. And where he belonged.

A creaking sound made Daryl snap out of his thoughts. Wistfully he knew all to well this sound, the very one of his dad’s room’s door. It always creaked, almost like an alarm for him to hide. And that was what he did. Going to his window and carefully lifting it up, so he won’t make himself known to his wasted father. As soon as he could craw out of it he maneuvered his body and landed on the outside of the trailer. Just on time to hear the door to his room open and heavy steps come inside. He styled his movements and strained his ears to hear his father’s reaction. In his head he was praying Will wouldn’t glance out of the window, because if he did Daryl was screwed. Maybe there really’s a god. Daryl thought as the only thing heard from his room was a slurred curse and then the sound of his bedroom door being closed. His whole body relaxed and he slumped onto the side of the trailer. That was a close call and he knew how lucky he was. The down side was there was no way to go in soon so he needed a place to stay. The thought of going to your house flashed across his head but then he realized how it will look. Him appearing outside your front door at midnight at a school night. And naturally there would be too many questions.

He couldn’t do that so he settled on going for a walk around town. It was late so the streets were mostly empty save for a few cars and some groups of teenagers. He stopped at the convenience store and went inside. The only person onside was a middle aged woman, dressed in the store uniform. She only glanced at him and then returned to the magazine she was reading. One of the things Daryl liked about coming there at night was that no one cared who were you. The employees would just look up at you and then return to their tasks. Going to the fridges he grabbed a can of Cola and headed towards the register. Placing the can on the counter he reached for a pack of gum and also placed it on the counter. The woman scanned the items and snatched the bills Daryl had handed her. Placing the money in the register she didn’t say anything to him as he walked out.

Now outside he opened his coke and took a sip of it. He needed to wait a bit more before going back to hi place, just in case his dad still hasn’t fell asleep yet. Looking around and seeing the local park he thought he might as well go there. The park was well lit and a few benches were scattered around for people to sit on. While walking around his mind wandered off towards you. What were you doing now? Probably sleeping but did you also think about your upcoming date. Where you as impatient as him or you were just patiently waiting? Maybe he never even crossed your mind and he wouldn’t be surprised. After all you just saw it as a favor. But for him it was so much more. You were trusting him that he knew what he was doing, even putting hope onto his knowledge.

Without noticing he was already at the end of the park and enough time had passed for him to go home. With sorrowful steps he made his way to his trailer. He always dreaded coming there, but he didn’t have any choice. From the front door he could hear his father’s snoring so at least he didn’t need to worry about that. Going into his room he flopped onto his bed and hugged his pillow. But oh how much he wanted you to be the one there with him. To run your fingers through his hair and place a kiss on top his head. With this dream in mind he fell asleep. It wasn’t surprising when his dream was exactly the thing he wanted the most – you.

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Saturday at 10 am the sound of the doorbell ringing made you run to open the door. You still didn’t have all the things you needed ready but didn’t want your mom opening the door and embarrassing you again, like the last time. Outside your front door stood Daryl with a little smile upon his face. “Hi, Daryl! Do you want to come in? I just need a minute.” You asked and opened the door more for him. “Yea, sure.” Answered Daryl and came inside. While walking beside you your hands accidentally brushed and goosebumps appeared along his skin. Every time your skin touched his he went all red in the face and this time it was no different. While ducking his head so you don’t see the crimson red painting his cheeks you made sure your mom is not around. Thank god she wasn’t, though it only seemed this way.

From the countertop in the kitchen your mom had a perfect view of the front door but you couldn’t see her. And she didn’t miss the way your eyes happened to brighten a bit at the sight of Daryl on your front step. And the way his face would color red almost immediately also wasn’t lost on her. Even though to here both of your feelings were obvious id didn’t seem like the two of you knew. But wasn’t it like this always?

Your house wasn’t that unfamiliar to Daryl now so he was able to relax a bit. The living room looked exactly like the last time he was here. Glancing at you he saw that you were already looking at him. Both of you blushed and looked away with little smiles on your faces. “So… I need only a few things from my room and I will be back. Would you mind waiting for a bit?” You questioned and waited for him to respond. “No, I will be good. I’ll wait here.” He said and looked around again. “Okay then. Make yourself comfortable.” You said and went upstairs, leaving Daryl alone. Going upstairs you grabbed a few books for science and the few snacks you prepared for today. Checking yourself in the mirror for the last time you went down happy with the way you looked.

In the living room you stooped dead in your tracks at the view before your eyes. Your mother was sat next to Daryl on the couch. She was smiling and it looked like she had just asked Daryl a question if you could guess from her expecting gaze. Daryl on the other hand looked like he wants to be anywhere but here. And your thoughts would be right, because Daryl regretted ever saying he wanted to come inside. He should have waited outside. Your mom came into the room just as you disappeared up the stairs, almost like she was waiting for you to leave. She greeted him and immediately started asking questions about him. He was so overwhelmed with that dose of attention that the most he could answer was a simple “yes” or “no”. Your mom didn’t seem to notice how uncomfortable he was so she carried on with her questions about how he was at school and other nonsense. Unfortunately, she didn’t skip the questions about his family but at that moment you came to his rescue.

“I’m ready. Are we going?” You urged looking at Daryl with raised eyebrows and a little smirk upon your mouth. “Yea, let’s go. Nice meetin’ you, ma’am.” Daryl said and got up. Your mom only offered a smile and said a goodbye as well. Finally, outside you questioned where you were going. Instead of answering you Daryl only glanced at you nervously and muttered a “You will see.”. Now that he was finally getting close to the woods he got more and more anxious. How would you react to him leading you into the woods? What if you found the little surprise he made for you ridiculous? But he didn’t let these thoughts win over the joy of being around you. The time you were walking there was mostly silence but it didn’t seem awkward or uncomfortable. It was the exact opposite, a comfortable one and he didn’t feel the need to say something.

After about a 10 minute walk you were at the edge of the forest. He looked at you, expecting to see you looking around and confused but instead you were looking at him curiously. There was not a single sign of worry or confuse. “There is a little creek about 5 minutes from here. Thought you would like it.” He spoke first and waited for your reaction. “Lead the way then.” You said and waited for him to continue walking. Daryl’s nerves calmed down after your calm response. To be honest he didn’t think someone would be that calm around him, let alone you. After all you didn’t really know anything about him. And after a bit of thinking Daryl realized that he didn’t really know anything about you either other than the basic stuff like family and friends. Today was an opportunity to get to know you and he should use it.

The forest both of you were in was beautiful, full of sounds and light. The birds chirping and the rustling of the leaves was like music to your ears. The last time you were in a forest was maybe 2 years ago when you and your family went on a camping trip to a nearby national park. Thinking of it reminded you of how nice it was. You never thought that you could miss the forest but here you were. And looking at Daryl you noticed how relax he looked, no tension visible in his muscles. That was maybe the only time you have ever seen him so at peace. He looked at you with the corner of his eye and you turned your gaze away, not realizing that you were staring but you couldn’t help it. You were seeing new side of Daryl unfold in front of your eyes.

Daryl could already hear the sound of the water running ahead of him. His body wasn’t as tense as it was at your house, the forest having its calming effect on him. Now his mind was worked up if the thing he went earlier to set up was going to be too much. He wanted to make something special for you and hopped you wouldn’t find it stupid. Walking on a bit of narrow path covered in dry leaves somewhere you heard a Woodpecker pecking. Looking around the trees trying to find it you didn’t saw a tree root poking through the forest floor. Tripping on it you were too stunned to reach out your arms to stop your fall. Preparing yourself for the pain bout to come you braced yourself and closed your eyes but no pain came. Opening your eyes, you saw Daryl holding you to his chest, his face having an almost terrified expression on it. Your faces were so close that you could feel his breath mixing with yours. Looking at his lips you wondered what would be the feeling of them pressed against your own. Looking back at Daryl’s eyes you saw a new emotion in them but you couldn’t understand what it was.

Daryl caught you out of pure instinct, not thinking how close your bodies would be. But when you opened your eyes and looked into his eyes with this look of gratefulness his heart started pounding like a jackhammer inside his ribcage. And when you looked at his lips he sneaked a glance at yours. How full the seemed to be and the urge to feel them against his own was almost irresistible. Almost. But what if you didn’t want this and pushed him away from you. Called him a creep and ran away. He couldn’t risk it so he settled with looking at his feet and letting you go, the absence of your body and its warmth against it painfully obvious to him.

“Ya ok?” he asked this time looking at your face, scanning it for any sign of pain. You only shook your head, still a little bit shaken up from being so close to him. “I’m good, don’t worry. Are we close?” Turning to the direction the two of you were walking in you stepped over the root and turned to Daryl. “Uhm…yea. Jus’ a bit more.” With that you started walking again, this time looking where you were going. After just a minute of walking you saw the light reflecting from the surface of the water. In front of you was a creek surrounded by tall trees, the branches of the trees making a colorful shade over it. And then you saw the rest. At the sight of the blanket and the food scattered on it you halted immediately. There were different kinds of food and 2 sodas atop it.

“Hope ya like it. I’ve never really did somethin’ like tha’.” His nervous words made you turn to him, seeing his cheeks painted bright red. He was shuffling from foot to foot and looking down. “Oh, Daryl, you did all this? For me?” One look into his eyes told him that you did in fact like it. “Of cours’ fer ya.” He said with a bashful smile and sat on the blanket, making a gesture with his hand for you to do the same. Plopping down next to him you continued looking around, enjoying the sight before your eyes. Daryl was doing the same thing, his gaze pinned on you. He was finally starting to believe that this was actually happening, you with him at the only place he knew how to relax. You probably weren’t feeling the same way as him but for now he would allow himself to daydream you do.

Turning back to him you pulled out a notebook and stared at him expectantly. He seemed like he forgot what the two of you were meeting up to do. Snapping out of his daydreams he pulled out his book and started to actually work. But every now and then you would take small breaks and would snack on the things he prepared and chat for everyday stuff. Daryl never thought talking with someone can be this easy, not awkward or pointless small talk. And you would ask so many questions, trying to learn the things that he liked. Asking what was his favorite ice cream - chocolate or about his favorite color – green. And he would always return the question absorbing the information like a sponge tossed into water. The knowledge wasn’t something really deep but it was the things that made you who you were.

By the late afternoon you finally understood Science. Turns out Daryl can be an amazing teacher, patiently explaining everything that you didn’t understand. And he now knew enough stuff about you that he felt like he has always known you. When the sun looked like was about to set you picked up your things and Daryl cleaned up, getting the blanked in one hand. Starting to walk back to your house the whole way you were talking and laughing. If someone saw you they would think that both of you were longtime friends, just going for a walk. Gradually in no time you here in front of your front door and you were turning to say goodbye to Daryl. But he was already looking at you, a seemingly sad expression onto his face. He didn’t want this to end, talking and learning new things about you.

“I had an amazing time with you. If you want to maybe, we should do it again.” The enthusiastic tone of your voice making him feel like someone lit a fire inside him, the warmth spreading to very crevice of his body. “I would love ta.” The smile on top his face was genuine and before he knew what was happening you were leaning in and placing a kiss on his cheek. His body was completely straightened up and the look on his face being like to someone just stricken up by thunder.

“Bye, Daryl. I will see you Monday.” Turning around and going inside your house you left Daryl on your porch wondering if he will ever get used to these.

Masterlist: @marvelcasey05 @zomb133g1rl @ryoujoking @starkeysslvt @appearancesaredeceiving4lice @that-german-girrl @tobemylover-x

[thelasttime]

hey maddie im sorry if this is a lot but iv followed your blog for a while now its always felt like a very comforting space and just today after a week of trying to work through issues and them talking about issues theyre going through my closest friend told me that she doesnt want to be a close friend to me anymore, she said she has issues going on that she doesnt want to talk to anymore about but its just meant she feels like she cant be close with me anymore. i hope one day in the future we might be able to again but that wont be for a long while and it just sucks so much to lose such a close connection as that one you know? i dont know ive felt like your blog has been a bit of a safe and comforting space so i figured it might help a bit to talk about it here? but i also know this is a lot to put here suddenly so if it is you can just ignore and delete it, i understand that

hi anon!! thank you for being kind in my inbox and i'm happy to help you and talk to you about this. first, i'm really proud of you for putting yourself out there and working through issues week after week. i can't imagine what kind of toll that has on a person when they're trying their very best to keep a close friendship. it shows me that you're a person who really cares about their friendships and that you're a resilient person!! it also shows me that you're a good friend and you're trying

with that being said, it sounds like your friend is just not going to budge on the issues that you're having. you can do your best but friendship is a two-way street and you deserve someone who's going to put in their 100% to make a friendship work. it absolutely sucks to lose a close connection, but i do really believe that that you can't force a good friendship and that it happens naturally.

i've been in a similar situation where i kept trying and trying to make a good friendship happen and it was one of the most draining periods of my life. what i realized and what i hope you also may take away from this is that a good friendship isn't supposed to be draining. you might not have a 100% smooth friendship all the time but you're not supposed to feel like it's week after week of working on something. at some point, you just have to let it go and you know it's time to go (apologies for the taylor reference) (although actually you should go listen to that song because i think it's applicable in this situation)

you also might find that all that energy that you've now taken away from working on this friendship is something that you can now transfer to other friendships and yourself!! with this energy, take care of yourself and nurture your other important friendships. you deserve good friendship and you deserve a friendship that won't feel like you're fighting a losing battle.

i hope this helps !! giving you the biggest hug and all my love

[keefwho]

February 28 - 2023

8:41 AM

I still feel pissy this morning. 

For breakfast I’m having the last chicken patty from this bag I got a few months ago. It’s a tiny challenge because I often feel like freezer food is “old” when it’s perfectly fine. Considering my freezer is on average -25 degrees, nothing should ever go bad in it. Just get freezer burn maybe. So this morning I’m trying to pretend there is nothing to worry about because there isn’t. Although talking about it like this is making it seem like there is one. 

2:04 PM

I’m lonely and useless today. I do not want to try. No one wants me around. Fuck it all. I’m just gonna lay in bed with my Switch until I feel better. 

3:16 PM 

 I used to have someone that made me their priority. While it ended up not being a good thing, I at least felt cared about. Now I feel like I could easily be left behind by anyone. I could easily be left on my own. I'm afraid everyone will slip away.

4:34 PM

I don’t want to eat but I have to. 

Im such a huge disappointment to everyone. I can’t even do my simple chores for the day. 

5:13 PM

No one will pick me up. If I let myself fall then that’s the end. Maybe I don’t want to get up right now. 

Why am I even alive

6:22 PM

I’m so fucking angry at myself for being such a piece of shit. Why can’t I just pull my act together. I understand why I am unlovable. 

7:14 PM

I have to stop taking it so personally when people don’t reach out to me. It’s extremely likely that no one even knows I’m this upset. And if they do they might not know what to say or think I need space. It’s really up to me to reach out but I also don’t want to bother people with my stupid problems. 

I really have no idea what to do about myself right now. I don’t know how to cope with how I feel. I’ve been stuck in my head all day and haven’t had the willpower to do anything. I always get stuck like this and will feel better with time but it’d be better if I could start doing things to make myself not fall so far. 

Right now I’ve accepted no one wants me around tonight which I know isn’t true, but it’s how I feel. The truth is I don’t want myself around right now and I’m projecting that onto other people. I don’t know what anyone wants, only what I want. 

I guess trying anything would be good right now. I’ll try to sit down, close my eyes, and focus on some kind of audio for a little bit. That usually helps me get my mind on track. 

I also need to stop expecting to get a message from anyone. Sometimes I just close my messaging apps in hopes that ignoring it will help but if I end up opening them up after awhile and still have no messages, it makes things worse. Only because I expect engagement from at least one person. I shouldn’t expect anything. 

8:29 PM

A good way to figure out what I care about during times of intense distress is to ask “What would I need to not care about in order to stop feeling this way?” I’d have to stop caring about my relationships. I’d have to stop caring about how my tummy feels. I kinda already knew this but it helps to explore it further I guess. What do I actually want out of my relationships? Or my health? 

I think I want to be more honest about my fears of losing people. I only fear it may come off as strange or obsessive if not worded correctly. But I figure everyone is afraid to lose their closest friends to some degree. It would also help to have confirmation that they are there for me in the same capacity I’m there for them. I tend to be extremely dedicated and loyal. I want to maximize the quality of my connections rather than make more. In some cases I feel there is some disconnect there. I know some people just want more friends and can’t give me the same attention I give them. And that really hurts when I find out. 

I really wish I could get my tummy off my mind more, it bogs me down on days like today. I want to be able to ignore it and focus on more important things like my friends. 

I still have a massive void in my personal interests. I don’t know what they are. Or if my personal interests should be solo things. Maybe I really am only interested in things that involve others. I just don’t know. 

11:38 PM

I had an epiphany today. Something that gives me some actual direction. I’ve overidentified with the brand “MarsMiner.” Internally I’ve told myself that this is who I am for so long. I always thought I never let “fame” get to my head, but I did. I did in a way that is toxic to myself rather than to others. I don’t outwardly project it but I’ve always enjoyed being “known” or “somebody” even to a small sphere of people. I think it’s normal to enjoy that kind of thing but I’ve let it go out of control. I always knew this was a problem to some degree because sometimes I’d ask myself “What if I never drew and therefore had no notoriety?” That kind of thinking would scare me and make me realize how much I’ve hinged my worth on my brand. 

I think the move here is to strongly distinguish work life from normal life. I think the reason I didn’t catch this sooner is because it’s hard to do it online, especially when I use the same username basically everywhere. I have to fabricate this new separation. I can start by changing my username on non-work related accounts. I can stop trying to make friends in art circles because it’s giga rare that I will make genuine connections with people that already know me and therefor have something to gain from me. 

This might be fun and I am excited for it. I’ve been saying for awhile that I believe in having multiple different identities in life. Most people achieve this without trying or thinking about it. They have an outside work life that they don’t associate with personal life. I used to have this when I would be a mute Shygal in VRchat. I was a different person then with different kinds of friends, all non furries too. I think detaching myself from my brand will be very healthy. 

There might be some awkward spots. Art in general is one. It is work but also something I genuinely enjoy. It kinda forces me to show my personal self during work time but this is unavoidable. There’s also no way to separate work art from personal art which has always been a problem. People intertwine the two and think I’m a psycho freak for drawing things people commissioned. 

[mouthfulloftoothpasterry]

Hooked

Summary: Harry and Y/n meet again. This time spending more time together and getting to know each other. 

warnings/ disclaimers: Swearing, mentions of death, mentions of childbirth. 

Harry was out searching for a book. He had left Loralie with his mother for the day since he had some errands to run and it would be a busy day. He had finished all of his books and he was on the search for another, maybe even some extra ones for his classroom. He had stopped by his favorite coffee shop and ordered his favorite black coffee to start his day of errands, then he went to the market to get everything for dinner tonight- he thought he might as well get it out of the way since he hates grocery shopping.

Now he’s on the way to a bookstore, he didn’t want to order it on Amazon or just go to a big chain store so he did a quick google search and found a small book store a block down the road from the coffee shop he had gone to. He wanted to find the book burning in water, drowning in flame- his sister had recommended it to him and now he was itching to read it.

He made his way to the bookstore, it looked like a homey place just from the outside of the store. It was a rust colored brick with two sconces on either side of the top of the book shop, a rather tall building- possibly a flat at the top. Harry looks at the cacti peeking through the windows, little flower stickers to decorate.

Harry walks into the book shop, opening the door making the golden bell at the top of the door frame sound off. As soon as Harry steps in he notes the warm scent, it smells like the owner had been baking cookies. “Hello!” He hears a cheerful voice sing while he steps toward the poetry aisle in search of the book. “Is there anything I could help you with today?” He hears the voice again making him turn his head. To his surprise it’s Y/n, he’s been thinking about her. “Oh, hi.” He says bashfully, smiling and stepping over to the cashier counter she was behind.

Y/n smiles, continuing to add price tags on the back of her new shipment of books. She had started her little business officially a bit after she had gotten pregnant with Milo. Milo’s dad had left her after she broke the news to him, they were in their early twenty’s (Y/n being twenty one and him being twenty two) so it was understandable that he didn’t want children yet but the way he dealt with the situation was just dramatic and too much on Y/n. So she put everything into her little book shop, she took out a loan and bought this place, starting planning and putting her all into it, it wasn’t easy but it was worth it.

“Hi Harry.” She says, adding a book to the stack. Harry blushes at her tone again, she’s hard to read. “Um… do you happen to have burning in water, drowning in flame?” He asks, whirling around her display of different styles and colors of bookmarks. He is a twenty six year old man, why is acting like one of his students who thinks he’s handsome? Y/n laughs, nodding while she pulls her mug up to her lips- Harry thinks it’s hot chocolate (and he’s right). “It’s in poetry, first aisle, third shelf, second row.” She says, impressing Harry in how she has memorized every single spot of her book store.

Harry gives her a tight nod, walking over to the poetry section and looking for the book. “Is this your place?” Harry asks, making conversation while the rest of the store is dead silent.

“Yeah, me and Milo live in the flat upstairs.” Y/n admits. Harry’s ears perk up, she didn’t say anything about a partner. He walks back to the counter placing his book down, not handing it over to her yet. “When did you open this place?” He questions, looking around the shop. He sees some crystals, some candles- that both look up for sale and also her personal ones. It’s cute.

“After I got pregnant with Milo. Right after Xavier left me.” She says, leaving Harry wondering. “Xavier is…?” Y/n sighs, rolling her eyes a bit. It’s only their second time meeting and she’s already giving him her sob story. “He’s what would be Milo's father.” She says, picking at her bare nails. She doesn’t consider Xavier Milo's father, he’s never been there for him so he’s not a father. Harry’s lips form a tight line, “um, Loralies mum died… so… we’ve all got baggage.” He laughs, trying to cut the tension.

Loralies mum had died, she died during childbirth. She already had a particularly painful and rough pregnancy with Lora and that was just extremely unexpected, Harry just thanks his stars everyday that his little one is safe with him. “That’s awful, Harry. I‘m sorry.” Harry smiles at her, “it’s okay. I’ve got my Lora so I’m okay.” Y/n nods, smiling and grabbing the book from between his fingers. “She’s a sweet girl.” She compliments.

Harry nods, feeling a little cocky over how well he has raised his daughter. “Is this all for you?” She asks, pulling out a small brown bag with the logo and name on it- they are cute. “Yes please.” Harry politely says, making her laugh under her breath. “If this is your first time here? You get a free bookmark with every book you purchase if it is.” She says, nodding over to the bookmarks. Harry nods, looking through the bookmarks and picking a random Fleetwood Mac one- cute, he thinks. Y/n adds the bookmark to the bag, setting it infront of him. “13.22” she says, Harry fishing his wallet out.

“Are you doing a lot today?” He asks, motioning down to all the books stacked around her while he hands her a ten and four singles. She shrugs, “the usual.” Y/n says, handing him back his change. Harry thinks for a second, pausing his response making Y/n a little nervous. “I could help?” Harry offers, setting his coffee on the table. Y/n gives him a questionable look, sharpening one of her eyes at him. “You want to put tags on books and reorganize with me?” She asks, making Harry laugh. He nods, putting a bookmark back in its place “see, I’m already helping.” He says cheekily.

Y/n smiles, shaking her head. “I guess you can help.” She says.

Soon enough they are sat on the brown carpet, mountains of books around them. Y/n has a blanket wrapped around her and Harry has his legs stretched out. Y/n is tagging books while Harry is setting by the book shelf closest to them organizing. “I swear they put something in the water fountain at that school, the kids are always running and screaming around my classroom while I’m trying to talk about how Van Gogh cut off his own ear.” Harry says, making Y/n loudly giggle, thinking about how Milo probably gives him a horrible time on Wednesdays.

“You like working where Loralie is?” She asks, Harry of course nodding. Loralie is his baby, he loves knowing she’s just up the stairs- especially if she were to get sick or hurt he would be right there to take care of her. “Yeah, I wish I could always be with Milo but one of us has to make the money.” She jokes which makes Harry laugh.

“She always comes waddling into my classroom screaming for me- which disrupts the class but I don’t care.” He shrugs, his mind going back to Loralie. “Oh shit, I’ve got to pick her u-“

“Hi! How are you, baby!” Y/n cheers, Milo running toward her then crashing into her in a hug. Y/n’s friend Mikaela had babysat Milo for the day while Y/n tried to get as much work done as she could. Usually on the weekends (like today) Milo will be in the store with her… which tends to distract her. “Um, I’ve got to go but we should do this again? Maybe… over dinner?” Harry asks, Y/n’s face lighting up.

“Are you asking me on a date?” She teases, Harry blushing and nodding. Y/n laughs, slipping her phone from her pocket, “take my number and we can schedule that date you’re begging me for.” She teases.

Harry gets her number, thanking her for the book and letting him stay before he slips out. Now he’s got to get back to Loralie. But he’s got a date!

**

Later that night when Harry and Loralie are practicing her memorizing her ABCs his phone beeps. He ignores his at first, just expecting it to be a stupid text from his friend Mitch, but once he looks down he sees Y/n’s contact name. “Keep going, bug.” Harry says, grabbing his phone from the carpet while they set on the floor of the living room, unlocking his phone.

Hii, im free next Friday :) let me know if that works with your schedule!

Harry laughs at her cute little smiley faces, trying to think up a response that doesn’t make him sound a thousand years older than her. The tip of his tongue sticks out while he types back his response, his eyebrows knitted in concentration.

Hello! Friday works, how about 5:30? I can pick you up.

He lays his phone back down and helps Loralie with her letters, pulling her onto his lap. “D is for Daddy!” She cheers, making Harry smile, chuckling and kissing her round cheeks while she squeals. Harry hears his phone ding, grabbing it and reading the response, thanking god she answered. He thought his heart would explode out of his chest. It was beating so hard.

That sounds good ☺️ see you then!

Harry got her to say yes, but now he has to deal with the anxiety of actually going on the date. What should he wear, where should they go? Should he be opening the door and pulling out her chair or is that not in-in dating anymore? He hasn’t dated since Loralies mum and his baby is two years old now, it’s been quite a long time since he dipped his toe into trying to charm a woman. He just hopes he’s still got it.

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

The day is here. Loralie is with her grandma so Harry can get ready for the date. He’s been panicking and running all around his little house. He showered and smothered himself in lotion and his best cologne- he wanted to smell nice for her. He was adding leave in conditioner to his hair (which he hardly remembers to do) to make it more silky and the curls look a bit prettier than they usually do- he doesn’t know much about hair, he just does what his sister tells him what his hairdresser tells him he should do.

He planned out an outfit, a pair of tan dress pants with a white tank top and a cardigan over it. He had thought over the outfit a bit too much, was it too casual for the date? Was the cardigan too much? He decided against his thoughts and layers some pearls on, sliding his rings on that were in a jewelry dish, placed in there before his shower. He takes a look in the mirror, readjust his cardigan before he gives himself a little nod. He feels good about this.

He makes his way over to Y/n flat, walking up the metal steps to her flat and knocking on the door. When she opens the door he notices just how amazing her home smells, just like her book shop. He needs to remember to ask her where she gets her candles. “Hi,” Harry smiles, looking his date up and down. She was dressed nicely. It was a sage green dress with spaghetti straps, it stopped a couple inches above her knee. Harry thought it was cute.

She paired it with gold jewelry and a black cross body bag. Dirty white vans to go along with it that added a child-like feel to the outfit. Harry thought that was cute too.

“Hi,” she smiles, glancing behind her. “You look nice.” Harry says, suddenly feeling hot. Y/n laughs under her breath, thanking him. “You look nice as well.” Harry smiles bashfully, looking down at his feet. “Thank you”

Y/n says her goodbyes to Milo, hugging and kissing him before thanking her friend again for watching him. It’s the same one from last week, Mikaela. They get into Harry’s car, a bit of awkward silent before Y/n breaks it, Harry stopping the tapping of his fingers along to the low radio once her voice interrupts it. “So, where are we going?” She asks, smoothing her dress out against her thighs.

Harry laughs, he’s not prepared for dates and for some reason he hadn’t thought about the most important part. “I’ll eat anywhere to be honest.” Y/n admits, looking through her window at all the different places.

Harry was looking around in a panic and he finally pulled something out of his ass that sounded good, especially on his teacher salary. “Olive Garden?” Harry says, trying to say it confidently but it definitely comes out as more of a question. Y/n’s eyes light up, she’s in the mood for bottomless salad and breadsticks. “That sounds heavenly.” And Harry is happy to hear that.

They walk into the busy restaurant, instantly getting escorted to a table. Harry is happy they didn’t have to wait- that would have just been embarrassing since he threw this together last minute. They sat in the booth, sliding in and getting comfortable. “So, how’s the bookstore?” Harry asks, pulling apart his breadstick. Y/n knocks her shoe with his under the table, she thinks it’s cute how bashfully he can get when just asking a simple question. “It’s good. How are your little art students?” Harry playfully rolls his eyes at her choice of words.

“It’s good. They are doing self portraits.” Y/n laughs, her eyes widening.

“How’s that going?” Harry laughs, shaking his head. “They look like shittier versions of Picasso’s paintings.” Y/n dramatically gasps through her laughs, “aren’t you supposed to worship the ground that man walks on? Why would you say that?” Harry rolls his eyes once again, chuckling at her. “I’m just behind honest!”

Their date goes on the same, they order their food, giggling while they eat and even getting into a little food fight with the leftover breadsticks. (They weren't being humble, they asked for another basket) They finished their food, “That was fun.” Y/n admits smiling. Harry nods, taking the check and opening his wallet. “Here,” y/n holds out her card, Harry shaking his head. “I’ll pay.” Harry shrugs her off, handing his card tucked in the black check book the waiter had brought over back to him before she can further protest.

Y/n scoffs, throwing another breadstick at him that he tried to catch but it’s too greasy. “Hey! I thought we had a truce?!” Harry questions her. She shakes her head, apparently swearing off the truce. Harry shrugs, thanking the waiter when he brings his card back along with their mints. “You better sleep with one eye open then.” Harry says, standing up and waiting for her. She laughs, standing up and pulling her bag over her shoulder. “I have a three year old, I basically sleep with them both open. You’re nothin’.” She says, Harry nodding his head in agreement. He knows just how she feels.

They drive back to her flat, Harry of course walking her to her door. “I had so much fun tonight.” Harry says, looking down before he looks up at Y/n. She smiles, blushing. She hasn’t dated since Xavier and she admired that to Harry tonight, they both admitted that they haven’t dated since their children’s parents so they felt a lot comfortable knowing they were both rusty.

“Me too, you’re a really sweet guy, Harry.” She says. She needs to remember to thank her forgetful little Milo for leaving his folder in Harry’s classroom. “Thanks for agreeing to go out with me. I was pretty nervous.” Harry admits a bit sheepishly. Harry is a bit giddy on the inside about them hitting it off so well, they were having the best conversation and at times they were getting extremely loud, probably annoying the people around them, but they didn’t care, they had fun. “Yeah, I was nervous as hell but I haven’t had this much fun in a while. Thanks for tonight.” Y/n smiles, leaning in for a kiss.

Harry’s eyes widen, but he still kisses her back. He hasn’t kissed anyone in so long he thought he had forgot how to for a second. His hands come up to cup her jaw, moving his lips with hers. “I’ll see you soon. Have a good night.” Y/n smiles, opening her door with red cheeks. Harry nods, a little flabbergasted. “Have a good night.” He says, trudging down her steps.

And now he’s hooked on her.

Tag list: @romionefp @iaalien @hopeyoustaythenight @evanjh

If you liked this please reblog and please tell me what you thought of it ☺️ thank you for reading!! I hope you all like the series so far I’m writing part three right now so it should come out soon ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[souichieatr]

hiluuu! can i request a scenario/drabble for tsukishima, kuroo, oikawa, and akaashi where they're in a heated argument with their fem!s/o, then she suddenly faints? turns out she had a fever since the morning and hid it from them but got worse during their fight?

their s/o faints during a heated argument

with tsukishima k, kuroo t, oikawa t, akaashi k

a/n: thank you for requesting i hope you enjoy, im sorry this took forever?????? they get longer each one omg

tsukishima k

you don't even remember why you both are fighting, as he sips another insult your headache gets worse. as you don't say anything just raise your hand to your head he gets even more frustrated. "can you at least act like your age, ignoring me isn't going to resolve the issue." he says not noticing how your body starts to shuffle as you try and keep your balance. rolling his eyes turning to the door, "im not going to deal with this today-" before he can finish he hears a loud thud, turning around he sees your body on the floor. rushing to the floor next to you, "y/n?" bringing his hands up to your head, biting his lip cursing at himself in his head. picking up and lays you down in the bed as he gets water and a towel. when you wake up again you notice youre in bed, trying to sit up youre pushed back down. “don't do that, that wasn't cool” he says in a low tone, handing you a glass and some medicine. taking them both with a nod, “thank you kei and im sorry” you say handing the glass back to him, setting it down on the table he takes your hand. gently kissing the back of it and resting his head on your hand. “why are you on the floor?” you softly smile at him hearing a small ‘shut up.’

kuroo t

the fight started because he started to prioritize the volleyball team more than you. it didnt bother you that he stayed late, went early to practice, it didnt bother you until he started canceling plans with you. he told you repeatedly he would spend more time with you, today not being any different waiting in the rain in front of the cafe you both decided to eat at. not until 10 minutes had passed you went back to the school, walking to the gym with angry steps you opened the door roughly. the whole team looking at you soaking wet, frozen for a second he walks over to you. “y/n what are you doing here?” he says in an annoyed tone. “don't give me that bullshit tetsurō, we had plans today i waited for you to only be stood up again, are you even serious about this? us?” you say motioning your hand between him and you. rolling his eyes and he huffs, “can you stop being dramatic? im a captain this team needs me i didnt know you could be so selfish” widening your eyes at him, trying to catch your breath you close your eyes. “selfish? me selfish? you have some nerve i'll be leaving since i dont wanna bother the captain and his team” you say sarcastically, stepping back outside you start coughing. kuroo following behind you, “this conversation isn't done yet” he says grabbing your wrist, turning you around and his eyes widen. “y/n? you look pale are you okay?” he says as he does your eyes roll back and your legs give out. taking you in his arms he rushed inside asking the guys to grab towels to dry you off. sitting down on the floor with you in between his legs, he holds you close feeling guilty. feeling you stir awake he kisses your cheek, “im so sorry babe this is my fault, if i had just been there you wouldnt have been waiting in the rain” he says hugging you tighter. “im serious about us more than anything. i'll try harder to put more effort into our relationship. “i trust you tetsu and do you have any medicine? my heads killing me” you say smiling, he smiles and hands you a bottle of pills and a water.

oikawa t

sitting on the couch, rubbing your temples. “tooru can we please talk about this? youve been ignoring me all day” you say looking at him as he paces the room. “oh now you wanna talk? i thought you were too busy with iwa to notice me” he said stopping to look at you. “wow why are you so mad? what does iwaizumi have to do with this?” you say giving him a confused face as you rest your hand on the back of the couch. “y/n why dont you just date him huh? you obviously like him so much, why are you even with me?” he says getting louder each word. “literally what?” you saying this getting him more frustrated. sighing at those words he runs his hands through his hair, “i saw you both hugging if i knew you were just jumping my friends maybe i what've listened to all those girls.” “okay now what the actual fuck tooru? i can't hug a friend all of a sudden? did you just imply that i am cheating? i cannot believe you” you say feeling your anger bubble up, he opens his mouth to say something. “no no! because how dare you, you have girls all over you everywhere trying to take pictures and give you gifts, you expect me to worship the ground like they do dont you? guess what im not, you dont get to accuse me of cheating because i hugged someone that someone being your closest friend just what person do you take me as huh?” you say getting up fast, maybe too fast as the pounding in your head gets louder. leaning your weight on the couch as you continue, “me and iwaizumi share one simple goal and thats to keep your ass in line, all those late nights and you overworking yourself, you not coming to anyone for help and your bratty ass attitude hes the only one who'll help me deal with you, im not gonna let you blame him because all hes done is help you.” you say getting the strength to get closer to him as you try and take a step your legs falter. his initial reaction to everything you said had his eyes widened and mouth agape, seeing you almost fall sent him over to you trying to help. “no i can do i-” you say as you start to fall and everything goes black. opening your eyes slowly you feel something cool on your head, “hey youre up” a voice says softly. looking over to see tooru next to you as he grabs your hand, before you could say anything else he speaks up. “let me talk for a bit yeah?” he asks as he looks at your joined hands, whispering a soft “okay” he continues. “im sorry, im sorry for not noticing you weren't feeling good, im sorry for saying you cheated, im sorry for yelling, i just got insecure after i heard some girls talk about how cute you and iwa look and seeing you both hug like that just set me off” he says lifting your hands and kisses your knuckles. “i like how you dont worship the ground i step on, i like how you fight back but when i need you most youre always there. i appreciate everything you and iwa do, i love you y/n.” he finishes and looks at you with teary eyes, pulling him down into a hug you whisper “i love you too.”

akaashi k

now arguing with him isnt a normal thing, usually you both can speak calmly and work it out. he gets frustrated because you're not listening and he's been having a stressed week and just kinda blows up. sighing as he runs his hands through his hair, breathing in and out slowly trying to calm himself down. you roll your eyes, “keiji im fine can you just leave me alone, you dont have to treat me like a baby- '' before you could finish he lets out a small mocking laugh. “i wouldnt treat you like one if you didnt act like one, y/n grow up and take some responsibility so /i/ dont have to be the bad guy, the stressed one, the one who has to take care of you.” staring at him with wide eyes he continues, “you wanted me to stop treating you like a baby stop looking so shocked.” you feel a tickle in your throat, trying to hold it in hoping if youre quiet enough you could sneak away. ultimately failing and having a coughing fit you feel your legs get wobbly. “were you trying to hold it in? so childish” he says looking away about to walk off, turning his head to look at you before he walks away he sees your eyes roll back. you wake up on the couch with a wet towel and a blanket on you, slowly sitting up and looking towards the kitchen you see akaashi quietly making you food. looking back at the table you see a glass and some medicine. taking the items and washing them down alerted akaashi to you being awake, rushing to you he looks down at his hands as he picks at them. “how are you feeling?” he asks quietly, you answer with a quick “fine.” sitting on the side of the couch he faces you, “im sorry theres really no excuse for the way i acted i just i hate seeing you trying to be okay when youre not.” scooting closer you rest your head on his shoulder, “if what its worth i like when you baby me” smiling at you he kisses your forehead. “i'll remember that.”

not proofread

[honeypirate]

Kuroo’s fingers connect with your eyebrow as he pushes your hair from your face. A small action he’s maybe done a thousand times in your life but only now are you aware of the fireworks his fingers leave on your skin.

He’s talking nonstop about this volleyball game coming up and if it had been yesterday you would have been sucked into his story and paying attention to what he was saying.

But it was today, not yesterday. It’s today that you’re enamored by the sweat lining his forehead from his practice. Distracted by the sparkle in his eye and the way his eyes watch as you bite your bottom lip. Fuck what was he saying?

What made today different than any other was a little birdy told you a secret that wasn’t his to tell.

Kenma has told you how Kuroo felt about you. Leading you to realize just how deep your feelings ran, a depth you had been ignoring for years.

And now you can’t stop watching him and thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

“Are you listening to me?” He asks with his eye brows raised and you feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze. “I uhm might have missed just a little” you admit and nervously rock on your toes.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, his facial expression was soft and you could see in his eyes how much he would help if he could

“My mind is just really distracted today. Much to think about” you say with a laugh and he smiles

“Like what?” He asks and leans down a little

“Liiike” you look around the empty gym, everyone save for you guys had packed their stuff up and left.

“homework, volleyball, you, what I’m making for lunch tomorrow, my big project, my sisters wedding,” he laughs and cuts you off with a confused shake of the head and eyebrows furrowed “what was that?”

“My sisters..”

“No before that”

“Oh my big project! It’s about the..”

“Not that either but I am interested so remember to tell me about it”

“My lunch?” You ask, knowing exactly what you’re doing and what you’re avoiding

“Stop moving around it. you and I know what you said pretty girl” he says and brushes your cheek with his fingertips, moving in closer to you and resting his other hand just below your ribs

“You” you whispered as your heart raced in your chest “me?” He asks and his hand continues to brush up and down your cheek, soft and slow, sending tingles throughout your body.

“Why would you be distracted thinking about me?”

“Because I like you” you whisper breathlessly and his hand stops against your cheek

“And Kenma might have told me you liked me. So now I cant stop thinking about you even more. And god do you have to be so nice to look at? I feel like I’m being so creepy but I can’t stop staring because you’re just so amazing! You’re amazing at volleyball, good to your friends, you’re smart, kind, honest, giving, trustworthy. every time I look at you you’re doing something nice for someone else and I just - my heart!”

He laughs and his hand rests against your neck “I’m gonna have to have a talk with Kenma but I’ll do that later” he says and smiles softly, bringing his other hand up to hold your chin and keep you looking up at him as he takes a step closer.

You can feel his hands shake against your skin, his nerves finding their way out of his body even though he was acting confident.

“Since he’s already ousted my secret. Can I still tell you my confession?” His voice was just above a whisper, like he was afraid to talk any louder and ruin the moment.

“Please” you whisper back, raising your hands to slide up his chest to rest on his shoulders as you took the last step towards him

“F/n l/n” he starts and you chuckle softly, you felt so much happiness it had no where to go except for out, “I’ve known you since birth. You’ve been my oldest friend and closest confidant for the last many years. I only started to realize how I felt for you when you became our manager. I don’t know what it was about seeing you be the confident, commanding, person I knew you were but it changed everything.”

“You went from being my childhood friend, someone who I only saw as a kid sibling, to being the only one I think about. You’re so beautiful and kind, the way you interact with your peers shows how loving you are and how open your heart is. I find myself wanting to talk to you every second of the day, I want to take care of you, to hold you and help you. I find myself saving my jokes until I can tell them to you, looking for you when something cool happens, watching to see if you need anything. You’ve always seen me even when I try to hide my feelings. You always know what I’m thinking and without trying you raise my spirits. I’m.. im in love with you”

Your breath hitches. Your heart that seemed to be stopped that entire time suddenly raced to life. Your eyes burn like you might cry and your hands are gripping his shoulder tight. “I.. I..”

He smiles and moves his hands to cup both of your cheeks “you don’t have to say it back. Don’t feel pressure. I just wanted you to kn-“ you shake your head and reach up, cupping his cheeks as you stand on your toes and brush your lips against his.

You go to lean back, your toes hurting, but his arms wrap around your back and support you against him. His body was still warm from his practice and he smelled like sweat and his deodorant. You sigh out your nose as you bury your fingers in his soft, still semi damp from sweat, hair. not that you minded the sweat, you thought it was kind of hot since you knew how hard he plays.

When you eventually pull back and look up at him, you’re speechless for a moment as you take him in. from his kiss swollen lips, his love blown eyes, and messy hair. It was undoubtable ...

“I love you too, Kuroo”

[too-kinky-to-live]

taste

happy vo.re day everyone!!! here’s my cringe fic to commemorate :-) 

(no ao3 link this time im too self conscious) 

this idea came about while talking to the lovely @chili-kinks and they made this in conjunction with my fic so please check them out!!

anyway this fic features pre.game oum.asai and soft, same size vo.re, you have been warned. also bad words

“IIIIT’S PUNISHMENT TIME!!!”

The screen cut to a large Monokuma towering over the latest blackened, a small blonde girl with a long pigtail. The demonic bear picked up the girl and began to lick all over as she struggled in his grasp. Slowly lifting her above his head, Monokuma bent his head back and opened the gates of hell: his half-fanged mouth, with drool beginning to form around it. The girl was screaming and flailing about as she was lowered further down to her demise. Monokuma’s fist released her without effort, the blackened dropping right into his gaping maw. It slammed shut with a metal clang, and the bear gave a loud, deafening gulp. 

Saihara’s eyes were glued to the T.V., in a more intense manner than usual. What a cruel way to go, even for Danganronpa standards. He had many ideas about his own execution someday, but this… this was definitely one to consider. He could only imagine how she felt wriggling around in his large belly, put to an eternal sleep with a comforting blanket of warmth. His shaky hands moved to text his boyfriend Ouma, who sadly couldn’t make it to their weekly Danganronpa viewing because of heaps of school projects. He knew Ouma was more into the mystery aspect of the show than the gruesome killings, but he simply couldn’t resist. 

Saihara: omgomgomg did you see the latest episode???

Ouma: I did. I had it on in the background so I could work. 

Saihara: what did you think of the execution? :D

Ouma: It was… something. Unexpected, definitely. 

It was difficult for the taller boy to contain his fantasizing, to say the least. 

Saihara: i love the way she was screaming for dear life,,, it was soooo satisfying in the end! god i wish i were monokuma… tasting a victim would be so worth ittt

Ouma: Uh, Saihara?

Saihara: yea?

Ouma: I think you should go to bed. You have school tomorrow. And… you’re scaring me a little. 

Saihara: sorry kichi… but fiiiine ill see you tomorrow.

The last thing he wanted was to make Ouma uncomfortable. And he was a man of his word, he’d take his advice and get to bed. However, there was one thing he wanted to try first. Rummaging around in his snack drawer, he found a small bag of Monokuma-themed gummy bears. He couldn’t stop thinking about having something whole run down his throat… and what better way to do it than try on a small candy? He frantically opened the bag and plucked out a red gummy. Dangling it above his drooling maw, he licked his lips. 

“My first victim… down the hatch!” 

He shoved the gummy in his mouth and had to stop himself from chewing. Positioning it for swallowing, he let it slide down his throat with a hard gulp. Saihara traced a hand over his chest to feel it going down to his stomach, shivering slightly. What an amazing feeling… he couldn’t chew these ever again! He happily shoved more in his mouth and gulped them down, pretending they were meek little prey against his predatory might. 

Saihara tossed the bag aside and rubbed his belly blissfully. One day, maybe he could have a person inside him. Despite his affinity for Danganronpa, he could never bring himself to kill someone. He was going to rely on Team Danganronpa’s directors to change that for him. No, he merely wanted someone in his belly for a while, just to feel what it’s like. 

Surely a normal human like him couldn’t achieve that, right? 

Only one way to find out. 

Ouma looked on nervously as Saihara effortlessly swallowed half a sandwich whole. His previous victims included sushi, apple slices, candy, cookies, and brownies. It was almost inhuman how the taller boy could open his mouth to fit a seemingly endless array of food. 

"Saihara, you're gonna make yourself sick."

Saihara simply chuckled. "I'll be fine, 'Kichi." 

The smaller boy knew Saihara had a somewhat unhealthy obsession with Danganronpa, but he never would have imagined it would affect him this much. Despite how unnatural it was, Ouma couldn't help his morbid curiosity. He couldn't deny how interesting the latest execution was (no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise), and a small part of him absolutely loved watching Saihara scarf down food and seeing it travel down his throat. 

Nope, he definitely didn't enjoy this. 

Every so often, the taller boy would lift his food above him and slowly ease it into his mouth, as if to simulate eating a person. Ouma was immensely thankful the other patrons of the cafe were ignoring them. Maybe this sudden fascination would fade once the next Danganronpa episode came out; but with Saihara, anything was possible. 

Saihara: hey could you come over today? i wanna try something. 

Two weeks later, Ouma received a rather unceremonious text from Saihara one night. 

Ouma: Sure. What is it you want to try? 

Saihara: i don't think i can say over text

Ouma furrowed his brow, his mind racing to the absolute worst possible scenarios. Did something happen between him and his uncle again? 

Ouma: ...why not? 

Saihara: i just can't i'm sorry 

Saihara: pls come over asap 

Ouma: Alright.

It was unsettling how vague his friend was being, and that made him all the more worried. He hurriedly packed his things and ran to Saihara's house. 

The two sat across from each other on the floor in Saihara’s room, neither saying a word. The taller boy had his eyes cast down, deep in thought with Ouma left to wonder just what the hell happened to him. The air was unnerving, and Ouma couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you okay, Saihara?”

The boy in question took a second to look up at him, meeting his eyes with an emotionless face Ouma had not seen in him before. 

“Do you remember the episode where the girl got eaten alive?”

Oh.

“I… I want to try it out. I’ve been practicing so I could make it happen.”

Oh.

Saihara couldn’t possibly think this would work, right? Humans aren’t capable of eating each other without… killing the other. Ouma shuddered. 

“Saihara,” he spoke slowly. “Do you really think you can do this? I mean, Danganronpa is just fiction after all… and one of us wouldn’t s-survive,” his voice began to quiver. 

The taller boy sat up slightly and looked at Ouma with soft eyes. “I won’t let that happen. I’ve been looking stuff up. I’ve been training myself. And… you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” 

Part of Ouma didn’t want to. That part was constantly pushing the fact that this could end up very bad. However, another part slowly began to rise up - the feeling of being the closest he can to the one he has a crush on. And of course, there was that naughty side of him thrilled at the idea. 

“...I’ll do it.”

Saihara’s eyes lit up. “Really?!”

“I trust you. And, well, I’m kinda curious too.” 

Hearing Ouma have mutual feelings to this weird activity made Saihara’s heart race. The smaller boy began to remove his clothing, too embarrassed to make eye contact with his crush. Saihara finally noticed how bony Ouma was. He’d make sure to get him a proper meal later. Ouma removed everything but his boxers, feeling somewhat self-conscious and looking away with a blush. 

“Could you uh, close your eyes while I do this? I don’t think I could make eye contact with you.”

“S-Sure.”

Ouma complied and Saihara inched his way towards him, shaking slightly. Ouma trusted him. He wasn’t about to let that be for nothing. Raising himself above Ouma’s head, Saihara opened his maw until it became unhinged. He gently bit down on the smaller boy’s head of hair. The flavor was a sweet grape with a bit of lavender, which made Saihara drool slightly. He couldn’t help but smile in bliss as he took more of the boy in. He felt Ouma flinch a bit, so he brought his hands to Ouma’s arms and rubbed for reassurance. The smaller boy calmed down and Saihara reached his shoulders. 

Perhaps it was Ouma’s smaller stature, but this was going a lot easier than Saihara had anticipated. He wanted to lick at him to get more of his sweet flavor, but he didn’t want to gross him out. He also wished he could ask how Ouma was holding up, but, well… he was a bit preoccupied. As Saihara reached the smaller boy’s torso, he realized the boy had entered his stomach. He was already feeling full, but there was no going back now. He took a hand off of Ouma to rub his belly, his hand gliding over the dent created in it. Reaching Ouma’s boxers wasn’t nearly as thrilling of a milestone, since his taste was interrupted by bland fabric. 

He picked up the pace and shoved the covered part of Ouma’s body down his gullet. He mentally apologized for being so rough. Resuming the wonderful taste of Ouma, he slid down his spindly legs. All that remained was below the knees, and those were consumed just as quickly. Saihara could feel Ouma squirming a bit to get comfortable, and that’s when the true euphoria started. 

It felt fucking amazing. 

It was everything he hoped it would be. He leaned back and let an arm support him from behind, using the other to support the massive weight added to him. His stomach stretched past his knees with many bumps protruding from it. Red-faced, Saihara panted heavily with his tongue lavishly hanging out. God, this was so worth it. He rubbed around to feel for Ouma, who was surprisingly calm during the whole ordeal. 

He opened his mouth to ask Ouma how he was doing, but a massive belch burst from his lips instead. The smaller boy, meanwhile, was fumbling around trying to make out his surroundings in the dark. His body was drenched in saliva; but strangely, no stomach acid was present. The world quaked around him as Saihara let out a loud burp, and Ouma found it hard to be grossed out given his current circumstances. 

“Are you *urp* okay, ‘Kichi?” 

Saihara’s hand found Ouma’s head between the fleshy wall separating them, and Ouma couldn’t help but lean into the touch. He never saw himself in the stomach of his crush, yet here he was. 

“I’m okay. It feels… really nice,” he blushed, accentuated with a small rub to the stomach walls. He was amazed at how elastic Saihara’s stomach was, he hoped he wasn’t putting too much strain on it. 

“Haah… I’m great, ‘Kichi! The best I’ve ever felt, actually! You tasted incredible,” he grinned, licking his lips. 

Suddenly, the buttons on his dress shirt holding on for dear life relented and popped right off, exposing his large belly. That was… pretty hot, Saihara realized. Ouma started to rub more of the walls surrounding him, causing Saihara to moan rather loudly. He was a complete mess around his crush, but it was just too difficult to contain his bliss. 

“Saihara, why aren’t there any stomach acids yet?” 

The taller boy gave his belly a gentle pat. “I found recipes online for drinks that *hic* could subdue stomach acids for a bit. It looks *hic* like they worked pretty *hic* well, huh?” 

Ouma smiled and let himself lean back into the warm stomach walls. 

“You’ll let me out when I’m ready, right?” he asked tiredly. 

“Of course,” Saihara whispered, rubbing Ouma’s head.

“Thank you, Saihara.”

[yandere-ac]

What if the other villagers teamed up and broke into Raymond's house to take back the villager?

“You did wonderful today my dear. Simply amazing! I wish your voice where the only one I heard.” Raymond told you as you uncomfortably shifted in his grip. Raymond and you were currently lying in bed, him completely engulfing you in his grasp all while you laid there. Defenceless to do anything. He was praising you for today’s little show, you had sung Bubblegum K.K for him all while dancing around in the maid dress he gave you.

Well, it was less a dance and more of you trembling while trying to move around, bouncing up and down and doing a few spins all while Raymond observed in glee. Its been two years since you were first kidnapped, since then he’s gotten progressively more and more clingy with you. Nowadays it would seem like you didn’t get a second to yourself. And he sure hadn’t cut down on the affection either. He loved to touch you, from holding your paw to picking you up at random times out of nowhere. It was very easy for him since you were so much smaller than him. He was determined to make sure you knew that in every possible way, you were his. He made you wear clothing that he’d either bought or made himself, like you were just his little doll to dress up in whatever way he wanted. Usually the dresses he bought for you were pretty standard but you had found that the more dresses he made for you, the more progressively revealing they got. The skirt part of the dress In particular got shorter and shorter, as if Raymond was really starting to enjoy himself. By now you were pretty used to his possessive nature, so much that you weren’t that scared around him anymore. His looming presence made you uncomfortable and tense, but it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. You could be in the same room as him without hyperventilating. Because at the end of the day, Raymond was very predictable. He would ask you to do stuff for his enjoyment, if you refused, he would continue nagging you before making it perfectly clear that his word was final. And so, you would do his request, he would be overjoyed and compliment you afterwards. Ultimately, you didn’t have a choice. So you had learned to just get it over with, because you had no power in this situation.

“I’m thinking tomorrow I’ll go to the plaza to get some new songs for you to sing. While I do love the way you sing Bubblegum K.K. I’m curious as to how your lovely singing voice would sound with other songs. Im sure you can handle yourself while I’m gone.” So he was going away tomorrow. That’s always nice. Whenever he left to buy something was the only time that you were actually alone. You would usually spend that time crying and screaming, just letting all your pent up emotions out. You had learned the hard way to never under any circumstance let Raymond see you cry. Because he would always try to make you feel better, which would always result in you crying harder. You wanted so desperately to get away from him but at the same time, all hope of that ever happening had left you. You just wished that the desire would leave as well. Maybe then you could finally get used to this hell. But one thing that always held you back was your curiosity. You need to know what was happening outside. It’s gnawed at you like a dog to a bone. And it was driving you insane. “Tell me....how are they?” As soon as the question formed, the air became tense and heavy. You could feel Raymond’s grip on your waist get slightly stronger. “Why do you care?” His voice was cold, almost lacking of any discernible emotion, and it sent shivers down your spine. “I just...I miss them. And I’m worried for them. It’s been plaguing my mind for these past few weeks. Please just tell me, just once, then I’ll be quiet I promise.” You pleaded to him, hoping that maybe he’ll provide you with some sort of comfort. He let out a deep sigh, his hot breath brushing against your neck as he did so. “Well if you must know. They’re still just as crazy. Never shuts up about you. One of them have gone missing, Mr Nook says he moved out but I don’t believe that for one second. From the fact that his house is still up to the fact that Timmy and Tommy has inexplicably stopped selling ropes. You can probably fill in the blanks by yourself.” Was he insinuating that...no...no he can’t be! He has to be joking! “....w-who?” Your voice was shaky and barely audible. “Marvin I think his name was? Pesky little rat. Never did like him that much, he moved in without my permission and would refuse to leave. Never would have thought that I only needed to remove you out of the equation in order to make him leave.” Marvin. Hearing that name in this instance was like being stabbed through the heart. The grey mouse was your closest friend on the island, to hear that he would...that he. You almost let out a tear but desperately tried to keep it in. In the end you only let out a heavy breath that filtered through your teeth. Almost sounding like you were in actual pain. For whatever reason, Raymond either didn’t hear it or decided to ignore it.

“As for everyone else, nothing major has happened. That boy Damien has been pestering me a lot lately. He’s been making theories about where you might have gone. None have been correct thankfully. I think our priority should be to get away from this island as soon as possible. I don’t want to even think about what they would do if they found you here. Trust me, if you think I’m bad then you’ve only seen the top of the iceberg.” For once, you actually somewhat agreed with Raymond. While the idea of being completely alone with him on an island didn’t exactly sound comforting, the thought of eleven people being like Raymond was even less comforting. Especially since they’ve been without you for so long, even if they were your friends, and even if you missed them, you were scared of them. Because you didn’t miss what they had become today, not in the slightest. You had missed singing together with Tilly, you had missed giving blathers fossils, watching as his eyes lit up while explaining them to you, you missed visiting Damien and Bonnabelle, talking about life and such. You had missed going to talk with Tom about what to do whenever you felt stressed or sad, with him giving you advice while comforting you. You didn’t miss being tugged on each arm like a little doll. You didn’t miss your friends hurting each other to get to you, you didn’t miss being trapped with some of them for days on end. You just wanted things to go back to the way it used to be. But that would never happen. Your fate was sealed and you couldn’t change it. No matter what happened, you were doomed to be Raymond’s little love bunny.

Or so you thought.

Hours later you found that you still couldn’t fall asleep. Sleep deprivation had been a huge problem for you since you weren’t sleeping in the most comfortable position. If you ever did manage to catch some sleep you would often be woken up by nightmares. This particular night, the thought of Marvin was the one that kept you up. You didn’t want to believe that such a sweet and upbeat mouse would ever do something like that. It seemed so out of reach. You wished you never would have asked Raymond what was going on. You wished that you would have just kept your mouth shut, because none of the things he told you made you feel any better. In fact, they only contributed to this horrible cloud of despair that was forming over your head. Dripping sad and depressing thoughts on you that leaked inside your brain. As the night continued, you let the tears flow. Flow like the endless waves of hopelessness that was building inside you. But then. Something really unexpected happened.

CRASH!

The loud sound of a window breaking shook you out of your thoughts as you jolted. It also woke Raymond up, making him drag his entire body up while looking around the room rather hastily. The sound came from a window right in front of your bed. Scattered across the ground was shards of broken glass and attached to the apron of the window was...a grapple hook? It took a mere seconds for Raymond to bolt out of bed and rush at the window with the speed of a bullet. But he was not quick enough as the moment he got the the window and pulled the hook off, a big paw grabbed the edge of the windows frame. Before any of you could react, the person hanging onto the window threw them self in, shattering any part of the window that wasn’t destroyed by the grappling hook. As they threw them selfs inside, they knocked Raymond to the ground with them. Raymond let out a piercing scream as a piece of glass got stuck in his shoulder. While all of this happen, you sat in the bed, looking horrified at the sight before you. You knew who that was, you could recognise him anywhere. The figure, a black wolf, that was pinning Raymond’s body down to the ground, was Damien. His eyes were wide and his breathing was heavy. He opened his big mouth and tried to chomp down on the human underneath him. But Raymond managed to hold him back while grasping at the wolf’s face, making sure not to put his fingers anywhere near the sharp teeth that were currently snapping at him. You could see Raymond’s grip getting weaker and weaker and Damien getting closer and closer. Throwing yourself out of bed, you ran towards the wolf and tried to pull him off. “NO! DAMIEN! DON’T! PLEASE JUST- LET GO!” Once you placed your arms around his chest he finally seemed to slow down. Only to throw you off of him and instead scratch Raymond across the face. After that he started to repeatedly kick his shaking body, each kick forcing out a yelp or chocked sob out of Raymond. You once again tried to pull Damien off of him, but this time it was even less affective since you were still pretty dizzy from being thrown to the ground so roughly. You felt your mind start to skip, finding it hard to even stand up. One misstep while trying to regain your posture caused you to fall as your legs gave in. Luckily, a pair of strong arms caught you before you could reach the floor. As the world was becoming darker, the only thing you could hear was the persistent whimpers of Raymond as your sight got darker and darker. Just before you lost your tight grip on consciousness, you felt a hand stroke your face. And then you heard the voice of a vary familiar character.

“Shh Shh, no need to worry my dear. We’ve got you. Now let’s get you home yes, yes?”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The air was completely silent except for the very distinct sound of a clock ticking. It was the sound that eased you back into reality as you tried to open your eyes. As the first glimpse of light filled your eyes, you let out a small grunt and closed them again. But I’m doing that, you made your waking presence known to the person laying in bed next to you. Once you heard a deep chuckle, your eyes that previously felt heavy shot open. You turned around to see the familiar black furred face of a wolf. It was Damien. You couldn’t register what you were seeing, so for a few seconds you two just laid there, staring at each other. Until one of you broke the silence. “Good morning, my dear bunny rabbit.” He gave you a comforting smile as he leaned in and licked your cheek. Now this wasn’t uncommon for him to do, it’s how he showed affection, but in this context, this action made you shrink together into a tense ball. “Hm? Oh come on now. That’s not how you greet your old pal, now is it? Where’s that smile (N/N)~” (N/N), you hadn’t heard anyone call you that for two years. And yet, when you heard it, it did nothing to calm your nerves or reassure you. “W....where am I?” You asked, voice shaky, almost sounding minuscule when compared to Damiens. ”You’re in my and Bons house of course.” His and Bons house. It only just occurred to you that this was indeed their house. But if so, where was Bonnabelle? As if to answer your question you felt something shifting by your back. You turned your head over to look at the disturbance to find the small pink bunny named Bonnabelle looking at you with a smile. The much smaller bunny jumped up and climbed on top of you. “Hello ms/mr/mx Y/N!” The bunny beamed at you, but you didn’t respond. You hadn’t known how to respond. Why were you here? How were you here?! Where was-

Your eyes went wide as thoughts of last night reappeared in your mind. The sound of the humans whines as Damien kicked him repeatedly. The feeling of collapsing into someone’s arms. And the whole world going dark. All of that had led up to this. And that only made this predicament scarier. “Is something the matter bunny rabbit? You seem particularly jumpy.” The wolf told you while rising up from his lying position. You didn’t get a chance to answer as he pulled you out of the bed and into his arms, cradling your body close to him. “We shall go announce your awakening to the others. I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic. Come on now little bunny, keep up.” He turned to Bonnabelle who was already out of bed and bouncing up and down excitedly. Needless to say, she had no trouble with keeping up.

Damien carries you all the way to resident services, much to your dismay. You had tried to struggle, but unfortunately Damien was much stronger than you. Once the three of you entered, Tom and Isabelle both ran up to you, asking countless questions all while touching you in various ways. You weren’t able to answer. Isabelle ran over to the intercom where she announced that you where finally awake and that everyone should come to the resident services at their earliest possible convenience. And sure enough, villagers started to drop in, all of them rushing up to you, bombarding you with questions. Never once did Damien let go of you, he kept holding you close to his body, almost seeming hostile towards his fellow villagers. As the last person dropped in, all of them gathered around to discuss what they should do. They were all in unanimous agreement that they couldn’t keep fighting over you and that they had to find a compromise. It was then Blathers that suggested that everyone should get one entire day with you where they could do whatever they wanted without anyone else intervening. And while some seemed a little iffy about only being able to have you for a day and having to wait eleven more days to be with you again, most of them reluctantly agreed to the rule. Everyone but you. But you didn’t actually get any say in this. In fact, when you objected to this idea some had started to snicker at this, as if the thought of you having any say in this matter was so humorous.

That was five days ago. You where sitting on the floor of Raja the Cats house. He was still wearing the same scarf and coat that he had two years ago. The feline was showing you his flower collection that he started a couple months before you got abducted. Needless to say, his collection had grown quiet a lot. He was flipping through the pages of compressed flowers that where all kept in a big book, kept safely by a leather case that was currently laying on the floor. Raja was eagerly pointing at each one, like a child showing their mother a drawing they made. “And this! This is the white rose that you gave me! I still remembered that! Remember? Remember? I told you that I was starting a flower collection and you asked me if you could help and I said sure and you gave me this flower! Do you remember Y/N? I remember! I loved it! I was so happy that you would help me! I simply had to put it in immediately!” The cat continued with his blabbering, having to interrupt himself in the middle of his sentences just to take another breath. Your eyes trailed off to the pages of the book that was resting in his lap. There, filling an entire page was your white rose. It had seemed like Raja had drawn a formal frame around it, writing “Y/N’s rose” in calligraphy underneath the frame. On the page next to it was a bunch of small flowers. Underneath them stood the name of the flower and who had picked it. While most of them said Raja, there was one name that made a knot form in your stomach. There, in black ink, stood the name Raymond. It was a black rose, just as dried up and shrivelled as your white one. But seeing his rose, the one that HE specifically gave Raja, being dead. It brought a stinging feeling to your eyes. As much as you hated to admit it, you still cared for Raymond. Just like the way you cared for your friends here on the island. Because no matter how possessive Raymond was, no matter how much he scared you, no matter how much you wanted to get away from him. He was your friend. And you didn’t want him to die. But thinking back to that night, the night of your so called “rescue”. The sounds of his weak voice, his whimpers as Damien kicked him repeatedly. You had no reason to believe that he wasn’t six feet under at this very moment. But you doubted that any of them would have enough respect for him to bury him. You were sure that you’d be able to smell the rotten stench of his carcass if you walked close to his mansion. The thought made you sob, interrupting Raja’s ramblings.

“Is something wrong? What’s the matter?” He asked you, looking at you with his big orange eyes while pushing up his round glasses slightly. “I....I’m....” you were trying to answer the cat but no cohesive sentences would form in your head. Unfortunately for you, you would never get to answer him. As the loud sound of a high pitched shriek could be heard from outside. You both turned your heads towards the door and you ran out to see where the scream came from. Raja followed you, still holding his book, shouting at you to stop but you where already at the door before he could do anything. With one swift swoop you pulled the door open and ran out. And the sight before you struck you with pure unfiltered terror. Outside, scattered around the ground laid several dead bodies, from Blathers, to Isabelle, to Bonnabelle to even the dodo brothers. They laid there, cold and unmoving. And right in the centre of your vision were the two people you dreaded the most. It was Damien the wolf and Raymond the island rep. Raymond had him pinned to the ground, knife a mere inches above his chest. Damien had an iron grip on Raymond’s arms, trying to block the slowly approaching knife. But Raymond wasn’t giving up, he put his full weight on the knife, almost leaning on it while simultaneously pressing it down. As Raja looked at this, he let out a shocked gasp while dropping his book. “Damien! No!” He cried out. But what he didn’t realise was that he caused a distraction, making Damien look over at you two and giving Raymond the opportunity to drive the knife straight into Damiens stomach. As the knife penetrated his skin and lodged deep within his body, Damiens mouth opened as his eyes went wide. He tried to scream, to cry out. But all that came out was the hacky sounds of barely audible gasps. He coughed up blood which went straight into Raymond’s face, but Raymond didn’t even flinch as the blood splattered across his face, he just watched, eyes intense and breath heavy. Raymond kept the knife in place, leaning closer to Damien in order to watch the life leave his eyes. And as Damien began to slip away, Raymond started to twist the knife, making the wolf let out one last whine of pain. There was a few seconds of silence, you had been frozen the entire time. No matter how much your mind was screaming at you to run your body refused, too shocked to move after seeing the gruesome scene. The silence broke when the soft sound of Raja falling to his knees filled the air. Only then where you able to turn your head and look at him. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as violently as a waterfall. What happened next shook you out of your paralysed state. Raja let out a loud scream, a pained and sorrowful one that shook you to your core. But that scream also broke Raymond out of his momentary daze as he quickly and rather violently whipped his head towards you two. He quickly rushed at you. You tried to run but Raja grabbed ahold of your leg, looking at you in desperation. “DON’T LEAVE ME-“ he was cut off as Raymond tackled him to the ground, releasing your leg and giving you the opportunity to run. And ran you did, you ran as fast as you possibly could. You ran and ran until you could feel your legs start to give up. Your chest was hurting, your legs were hurting, everything was hurting. But you couldn’t stop, you had to get out of here, you had to get away from him. He snapped, he finally snapped. And you weren’t going to be on the receiving end of whatever blind rage he was going to inflict.

You were hiding, cowering in fear inside of the museum. You were in the shark department, hoping that the darkness would serve as camouflage until you figured out what to do. You knew you couldn’t hide away forever, this island wasn’t all that big, you had to figure out a plan of some sort. There had to be a boat or ship or anything that could take you away from here. Maybe you could get Pascal to help you? You would swim if you had to! You just needed to get away from here as fast as possible! If you stayed here, you would surely die!

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

Oh god. The haunting sounds of footsteps were echoing throughout the exhibit, each step making you more tense. You brought your knees close to your chest, hugging them as you buried your head in fear. You could hear him getting closer, and closer, and closer and-....they stopped. The sounds stopped, filling the air with dreadful silence. Silence which was interrupted one you felt someone grab you by the collar and roughly pulling you up to your feet before throwing you back to the ground. Raymond had found you and had thrown you to at the stairs nearby. You let out a loud cry of agony as pain filled your lower back, spreading throughout your entire body. Raymond approaches you slowly, knife in his hand and hunger in his eyes. Soon he was towering over your helpless body that you were sure he would make into a corpse. “R-Raym-m-mond! P-please! D-DONT! I-I didn’t mean to- I thought you were dead! I-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence as Raymond drove the knife downwards.

SHINK!

You closed your eyes, awaiting the pain. But there was none. As you opened your eyes you saw Raymond, a couple of inches away. He was breathing heavily, hot breaths brushing against your lips, and only now did you see how unwell he really looked. His hair that he was so adamant about keeping neat was scruffy and disheveled. He had a black eye and tons of scratches on his body. It had seemed like Damien really messed him up back at his mansion. He had bags under his eyes, and he smelled...strangely. You couldn’t quite place it put it was far from the usual aroma that he had. He was sweating, eyelids giving off a slight twitch every so often. He had driven the knife right into the hard stone floor, making the tip of the knife pop right off and making a few scratches to the flooring. He had missed, on purpose. By now your heart was beating so fast, you could barely form any words, only small sounds. And Raymond did nothing to ease your nerves once he started to laugh. A laugh which started out as quiet and breathy but soon turned loud and deranged. You quickly started to struggle, flailing around while trying to get away from him. But Raymond grabbed ahold of your throat, pressing you down into the ground, not hard enough to choke you but hard enough to leave an impact. As your feeble attempts died down, so did his laugh. All he was doing now was looking at you with a deluded smile. “...hah...haha...ha....did you...think you could get away from me...that easily?” He told you. You were crying and hyperventilating at this point, unable to answer him in any valuable way. He brought the knife closer to your face, stroking your cheek with the blade while chuckling. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” This statement made your heart leap out of your chest. “WHAT?! NO! PLEASE DONT! PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU! I DIDN’T WANT ANY IF THIS I PROMISE! I SWEAR! PLEASE DONT KILL ME!” Raymond let out yet another chuckle. “Your begging is so cute my dear. I love you Y/N. I love you I love you I love you! You just don’t know how to appreciate it yet...but you’ll learn...yeah...you’ll learn...after all. We’ve got all the time in the world right now don’t we? It seems that private island dream isn’t so far away now huh? I’ll have to check this place to make sure no one else is left, but after that. Oho my dear! We can make this place our own!” He was rambling, all while being dangerously close to you and playing with his knife. He stopped mid sentence, eyes becoming blank and unfocused, as if he was thinking.

“....however...you did disobey me...and well, I just can’t let that go unpunished do i?” Your eyes grew wide as he told you this. Raymond leaned down, smashing his lips onto yours rather violently as he let out deep breaths. He was holding you down, making sure you couldn’t move while he kissed you. Some blood that was on his face dropped off and landed right on yours, Raymond looked down at you, noticing the drop of blood that had splattered on your cheek. He leaned down and licked it off of you. “Now then. We’ll worry about that later. Poor thing, you look exhausted. I bet these freaks really took a toll on you hm? Let’s get you to bed, I’ll figure out a proper punishment tomorrow. For now, just relax. But know my dear...” he let out yet another chuckle. Staring deep into your eyes. “If you ever...EVER! Run away from me again...” he leaned in and whispered in your ear. “I won’t miss....” three words. The words was all it took for more tears to come flowing out of your eyes. Tears which Raymond also licked off your face. He picked your shaking body up and walked away, presumably going back to your house. But your stomach twisted when you realised that. Because you knew to get to Raymond’s house, you had to go past Raja’s house. So you closed your eyes all while he carried you. You didn’t want to see them. You never wanted to see them like that again. But even as you closed your eyes, you could smell them. You could smell their already decaying corpses. The smell made you gag. And that was enough for Raymond to bring you closer to him. “Such a waste. They dug their own grave when they took what was mine...” his voice was low and unfeeling. The way he spoke, it made you anxious. He really did only see you as a toy. “Would you look at that, it’s the rose I gave him...look Y/N. Look.” You kept your eyes closed, letting out a small whine. But Raymond wasn’t having it. “LOOK!” Your eyes shot open as he yelled at you. A yelp escaped your throat as you saw the scene before you. Raja was laying dead on the ground. There was blood seeping out of him and it had covered the base of his flower collection. It would seem when he dropped the book it opened on the page of you and Raymond’s roses.

“Huh...ironic. You know, in some cultures, a living black rose is supposed to represent the beginning of new things and major changes. But a shrivelled and dead one represents death.” Raymond used his foot to close the book before looking at Raja. “Tsk. Such a foolish individual. I’m sure you’re happy to be rid of him.” Looking at the dead cat, something sunk in. You felt hopeless, you were now officially stuck with him. Forever and always. Until either one of you died. Only them would you be free from this hell. You wished you could just disappear. But he wouldn’t let you. He would be sure you stayed with him at all times. You remembered what he had told you years ago when he found you on that deserted island.

“You should move to my island! I promise you, you’ll be treated well! We’re all really kind and you would love it there! I see the pain in your eyes Y/N. You’ve been treated badly. But I assure you! On my island you’ll be treated like royalty!”

Like royalty. More like a gem. A gem that had to be locked away at all times.

All this time. You’d never thought that Raymond would go this far. You thought that he peaked at abducting you. But no. This was so much worse. He had reached the point of no return. What was he going to do with you now? Now that there truly was no one there to stop him? And what punishment was he planning? Was he gonna hurt you? Was he gonna make you clean up your friends dead bodies? What truly was his limits? Because as it turned out.

Raymond wasn’t as predictable as you first thought

////////////

Y’all want some O C S ? Thanks for the request, this was really fun to write. Sorry that it took so long lol. It’s been a while since I last posted ac. Don’t worry, I haven’t completely forgotten about it. I think the next one is gonna be Danganronpa. And it’s gonna be ANGSTYYYY! But yeah 🔊Raymond simps come get y’all juice🔊

[s-and-n-writes]

another long day

crimson and bluebell: part two

summary:

Marinette Rossi is tired of everything: from Lila’s constant berating and Madame Rossi’s preferential care of her ‘angel-like’ daughter, to how everyone at school (even Alya) seems to believe her evil stepsister over her.

It’s like she’s Cinderella, except without the fairy godmother and the happy ending. She doesn’t even have a prince.

Or so she thinks.

Between the appearance of a new boy who seems to have captured her heart, and a gala run by her fashion idol Gabriel Agreste, Marinette hopes for an escape the constant ignorance, workload, and bullying she endures, and get a blissful life of her own.

With the help of one tiny god and a meow-velous partner, she might finally get a chance, but not everything is that simple.

They say ladybugs are lucky, so will being the elusive Ladybug bring Marinette the luck she oh-so-desperately needs?

quick links:

< previous chapter | first chapter | next chapter >

| miraculous masterlist | series masterlist |

a/n: so hi again, it’s me, n! im so so so sorry that i didn’t post for a long time, school caught up with me and everything’s getting v stressful these days. regardless, my new year’s resolution is to post more of these, and i’ll actively make an effort to do that hehe, in the meantime, enjoy!

also i’m appalled at the fact that this was 15 pages long and took more than a month to write how are you doing

Marinette had thought that the whole coffee spill, glass breaking fiasco would be relatively easy to clean.

She was wrong.

It takes her all of 10 minutes to clean up the glass, and another 20 minutes to try and clean up the coffee.

Key word: try.

Marinette ends up at school 30 minutes late, the coffee-stained carpet rolled off to the side at home, effectively ruined. She hasn’t even thought about the cracked glass table yet, which she hid by placing a tissue over top of it after Lila left.

Needless to say, all of this puts a little bit of a damper on her day.

As Marinette walks up the staircase of Francois Dupont, the school she goes to, she spots Alya Cesaire inside. Alya is Marinette’s closest friend, and despite having moved to Paris only a year ago, it feels like Marinette has known her for their entire lives.

“Girl, girl, girl…” Alya sighs as Marinette walks through the doors. It’s a free period, and students litter the area. Marinette spots Lila walking with one of her friends on the other side of the school, and luckily, Lila doesn’t see her.

There’s one good thing about school that Marinette adores: she doesn’t have to see Lila. Lila’s always had Madame Mendeleev for homeroom, and Marinette’s had Madame Bustier. Because of this, their schedules never interact, which allows Marinette to avoid Lila for the duration of the school day.

“I’m so sorry!” Marinette pleads, running up to Alya and shrugging her backpack off her shoulder. “There was a coffee spill, and glass broke, and-OH GOD I MISSED THE MATH TEST!!!”

“Marinette, chill,” Alya laughs. “The math test got rescheduled, but Ms.Bustier is pretty mad about you being late,”

Marinette sighs. “That’s a relief,”

“But you still missed a lot of news~,” Alya says, singing the last word.

Alya aspires to be a journalist, so on the occasions that Marinette wasn’t late, Alya would give her anything and everything interesting she’d dug up that week.

"I know, I know," Marinette sighs, fingers loosely picking at her shirt again. The seams stay intact, but Marinette's mind doesn't. The coffee spill and the glass breaking is constantly on her mind; she's not sure what to do. 

"Nice shirt, girl," Alya smiles, breaking Marinette away from her thoughts. Alya's good at that, and she notices when Marinette lets her mind wander, something that happens a little too often for her tastes. "Did you make it?" 

Marinette bursts into a grin. "Yes! I used that gorgeous thread that Sabine bought last week for my birthday, you know, the one I kept talking about, and it was absolutely amazing! I had to make this! What do you think? Do you like it?" 

The shirt is simple; a white base with flowers of varying sizes lining the edge. Marinette pairs it with her old, pink jeans (the fabric for the flowers on her shirt came from some leftover ones she had when making the jeans) and a dark-gray blazer that Lila used to own. 

"It's beautiful," Alya smiles, "But hey, I’m more excited for you-know-who’s reaction," 

Marinette rolls her eyes, hiding her face as an involuntary blush rises to her face. "Alya! You know I don't like him like that!," 

Alya grins. "Just teasing," 

“Well, anyways, tell me what I missed during lunch, I’m off to the classroom, before Ms. Bustier comes looking for me,” Marinette smiles, turning and running up the stairs. 

“Good luck, girl!” Alya says, waving goodbye and pulling out her phone. 

“Good luck, girl!” Alya says, waving goodbye and pulling out her phone.

The day passes quickly, and lunch comes sooner than Marinette expects.

She meets Alya outside of Francois Dupont, and they both head to Ville de Soirée, a cafe which isn’t nearly as expensive as the others in the area. They both order their usuals, and sit in one of the booths as they wait for their drinks.

Marinette sighs and leans back. “Ok, ok, tell me,”

Alya, who is most probably on the verge of exploding from her excitement, gears up. “Ok, so you know Nino, right?”

“You mean the boy you’ve been obsessing over since we met him?” Marinette teases. “Oh hey, I might have an inkling,”

Alya blushes, her cheeks tinting rouge. “Shut up,”

Marinette giggles. “Ok, go on,”

“Anyway, Nino texted me yesterday that his parents finally agreed, and he’ll be starting school starting Monday next week!”

“Ah! That’s so exciting! I’m so happy for you!” Marinette laughs. “Now you can actually make a move!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I’ll let you play matchmaker when the time comes,” Alya laughs, “there’s also something else, and this one I know you’ll be even happier about,”

The barista interrupts Alya, placing two steaming drinks in front of them. They both reach for their drinks, with Marinette holding the cup in her hand and Alya taking a sip. She grins.

“Nino’s friend, you know, Adrien Agreste, is also coming too,”

She pulls back, looking smug as she tries to read Marinette’s face.

The girl in question sighs, shaking her head. “Who even is Adrien, and why does everyone keep mentioning him to me?”

Alya facepalms, groaning.

“Girl, sometimes I swear you live under a rock,” Alya sighs, shaking her head. “How do you not know who Adrien Agreste is? His ads are literally everywhere!”

Marinette pouts. “Well maybe I just haven’t seen him,”

Alya rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Ohh no, there’s no way you’ve missed him ,”

She pulls up her phone and momentarily scrolls as Marinette waits.

“Here,” she says, “That’s him,”

The photo on Alya’s screen is from last February, Marinette recognizes. She remembers how Lila bought a copy of the magazine it came in, although she wasn’t allowed to see it.

But the boy is familiar. His face is similar to someone’s, but Marinette can’t pinpoint who it—

Oh.

Oh.

He’s Gabriel Agreste’s son.

Marinette leans back.

“That’s Monsieur Agreste’s son! I should’ve known, how could I have missed it when Madame Rossi told us about him?”

Alya squints her eyes. “Wait what?”

“There’s a fashion show that Adrien’s dad is hosting, and the embassy’s holding a huge event to greet all the fashion officials that are coming. Madame Rossi got us all passes to go,” Marinette says.

“That’s the one my mom’s cooking for! It’s next weekend right? She would not stop talking about it all weekend. I can try and score a pass, to you know, keep you company?”

Marinette gasps suddenly, burying her face in her hands, “Ah! I forgot! I won’t be able to go, since Li— I mean I, spilled coffee all over our new carpet,”

Alya raises an eyebrow.

“Fine, fine, I cracked some glass too,” Marinette sighs, face growing redder. “Madame Rossi’s gonna ground me for sure!”

Alya shakes her head. “Somehow I can believe it. You are the clumsiest person I know,”

She nods thoughtfully, fingers closing around the fox necklace on her neck. “Well I can’t deal with the whole glass situation, but maybe I can help with the coffee stuff? Happens to my mom all the time,”

Marinette perks up. “Really? Would you? Oh thank you Alya!”

Alya laughs. “No problem girl, I’ll come by after your shift at the bakery,”

Marinette pauses. After work would be...when Lila comes home.

Alya has always been a fan of Lila, but despite knowing Marinette, she’s only admired Marinette’s less-than-wonderful sister from afar. This means that so far, Marinette has managed to keep Alya and Lila separate.

Does she really want to risk that?

Weighing in the situation, she sighs. Would she rather have a shot at attending a potentially life-changing event, or safely escape Alya meeting Lila?

Knowing the both of them, Marinette remembers, they’d be a deadly combo.

But Marinette really wants to go to the event so, maybe this time, she might just give in.

“Great!” Marinette says, happiness laced with fear. “That’s...great!

Alya nods, smiling, watching as Marinette giggles.

“Now about setting you up with Nino…”

Alya turns away, blushing, “Marinette!”

Today

Lie-la 😒: sup loser

Lie-la 😒: im going to the mall with my friends after school

Lie-la 😒: if my mom comes in early

Lie-la 😒: you know what to say

Lie-la 😒: type, maribrat. use those lousy fingers.

You: yea, sure lila.

Lie-la 😒: good.

Marinette sighs and pockets her phone. For today, she is safe.

And that’s all she has ever wanted.

Marinette’s day ends with her feeling happier than when it began. Alya’s coming over to wash out the coffee stain, Lila won’t be there when she gets home, and she’s heading to her shift at the bakery!

It’s normal for work to not be exciting to most people, but for Marinette, it always is. Heading to the Dupain-Cheng bakery is always the highlight of her day, and working there is even better. The owners, Sabine and Tom, are like the parents she never had, what with them spoiling her with all the food they give and teaching her how to bake. Customers even tell Marinette all the time that she looks strikingly similar to Sabine, but she doesn’t see it.

In truth, she’s only ever even thought about becoming a designer because of the Dupain-Chengs, and if it weren’t for their motivation, she’s sure that she would be in a much different place right now.

But that’s not what Marinette worries about right now. Despite school ending early and the bakery being right across the street from where she is, she still manages to be late.

She exchanges a quick goodbye with Alya, who chuckles at her frazzled state, and dashes off towards work.

“I’m here!” she shouts, running into the bakery, the familiar jingle of the store’s door’s bell ringing in her ears. “Sorry!

Sabine laughs as she hands a box of pastries to a customer, waving as they leave. “Just on time. Hello Marinette,”  

Marinette winces as Sabine holds out her apron. “Sorry again, Sabine!”

Tom laughs from the kitchen behind the store, the sound booming through the bakery. “Marinette!”

“Tom!” Marinette says back, her lips curving into a smile.

Sabine eyes Marinette as she ties the apron behind her, quickly joining the older woman behind the counter.

“So?” she asks. “What’s new with you?”

Marinette sighs. “Not much, not much...oh! Madame Rossi has an embassy gathering to welcome a couple of famous people into France. And not just any people, people who work in the fashion industry!”

Sabine nods, smiling at Marinette’s delight. “And why exactly are these people coming?”

“It’s for the Gabriel event. I don’t know when it is, but apparently Gabriel Agreste is holding a huge gala, something about searching for a fashion assistant?,”

Sabine perks up at fashion assistant. “Marinette, you should enter!”

Marinette gasps. “I couldn’t! There’s no way! I mean, my designs are barely adequate, let alone Agreste worthy!”

Sabine shakes her head. “Everyone knows that isn’t true. Don’t put yourself down like that!”

Marinette blushes. “Thanks Sabine,”

The woman smiles. “Well, anyways, are you allowed to go to the embassy event? It’s a great opportunity, you wouldn’t want to miss it,”

“I mean, Madame Rossi did invite me and Lila, but Lila spilled a bunch of coffee on the carpet, and cracked the dining table this morning. It’s all a stunt, she did it on purpose. She’s blaming it on me, which means I’ll get grounded, and I won’t be able to go, and you know there’s nothing I can do about that,”

Sabine sighs, placing a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Oh dear. The next time I see Lila, I’ll tell Tom to get that girl and her mother arrested!”

Marinette laughs. “As much as I’d like that, where would I live?”

The rumble of the oven from behind the store dies down, and Tom walks into the main room. The room seems friendlier all at once, his large personality filling the space.

“Here, with us,” he declares proudly. “You’re like a daughter already,”

Marinette giggles, her cheeks growing red. “Alright guys, we’ll see,”

Sabine and Tom laugh as Marinette runs away to help a customer. Their afternoons with Marinette pass by quickly, and while they wish it was longer, you know what they say: time flies when you're having fun.

By the time Marinette gets off her shift, it’s 5:30 in the evening. Paris’s sky starts to fade from its normal cotton-candy blue to a marmalade orange. The hustle and bustle of the busy streets start to die down, and once she texts her address to Alya, Marinette makes her way to the bus stop.

While her time in the bakery is her favorite time of day, her time on the bus doesn’t prove to be too bad either. She likes the quiet silence, and enjoys her time away from the world around her.

The bus is probably her favorite mode of transportation (but her only one as well). When she volunteered to work at the bakery after school, Madame Rossi decided that ‘the streets were too dark at night for Marinette to walk alone’, and she was given a bus pass.

It was a small and random act of kindness that Marinette wouldn’t ever get again. It was also the only gift she ever got from her adopted mother, and despite not being too fond of Madame Rossi, she did treasure the gift.

Madame Rossi paid for her bus rides until Marinette was actually hired at the bakery. It was then that she decided to have Marinette pay her own bills, an action that most certainly helped Marinette for the future.

The sound of tires skidding against the pathway jolts Marinette out of her thoughts. She turns to see her normal bus waiting in front of her, and grabbing her bus pas, waits in line behind a couple others to get on.

That is, until she sees what’s about to happen.

Marinette watches as a man across the street tries to cross. He’s old, as his grayed hair and aged face tells, but his most identifiable quality is the red Hawaiian shirt he wears, embossed with a white hibiscus floral pattern.

Besides that, there’s also a car coming straight for him, and though it’s a little while away, there’s no doubt that he’ll get hit.

Marinette does the only thing she can think of. She runs.

The street is narrow, and Marinette manages to pull the man across the pathway before the car comes. She huffs, turning to the man to smile.

He has an odd look in his eyes, lips curved into a mysterious smile as Marinette quirks her eyebrow.

“Thank you, young lady,” he nods.

“You’re welcome!” she smiles, turning to look at the bus, which has started leaving. “Goodbye and stay safe, sir!”

The old man watches as Marinette just manages to catch the bus, stopping it and shouldering her backpack as she climbs on.

Marinette seats herself as the bus starts once more, and turns to her window to look for the old man.

But by the time she does, he’s gone.

Alya gets to Marinette's house at just the right time. When she reaches, Marinette has done a couple of her chores, cleaned up the living room, and put out the carpet in the first floor bathroom. Against the white rug, the coffee stain is obvious, and Marinette sighs as she inspects it.

How were they ever going to get it out?

There’s a knock at the front door, and Marinette knows it’s Alya. Smiling, the girl heads to the living room to open it.

Alya gasps as she sees the house. From the marble kitchen to the hickory-brown wood flooring, everything is pristine and clean, as if the Rossis live in a mansion.

(They don’t, but the house is still fairly big. Marinette sometimes has to clean it all as part of her chores, but luckily that hasn’t happened in a while.)

“Dang girl,” Alya sighs, “you rich or what?”

Marinette nervously laughs, cracking her knuckles. “Uh, I don’t know,”

“I’m joking,” Alya smiles. “But, random thing, where’s Lila?”

“She’s out. Doctor’s appointment for her, um, wrist,”

“Aw, that’s too bad. Tell her I said get better soon!”

Marinette sighs. She doesn’t like lying, but it’s far better than what would happen if she told the truth.

“Yea. Anyway, how are you getting the stain out? I tried all morning, but it was stuck,”

“Just watch me, girl,” Alya smirks. “Before we start though, you already blotted the stain,right?”

Marinette furrows her eyebrows. “Blotted? What do you mean?”

Alya demonstrates with her hands. “Like, did you take a paper towel and try to get as much of the stain out as you could?”

Marinette nods. “Yeah, that’s why I was late this morning,”

Alya nods. “Ok, so now we just have to make the cleaner,”

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “Make? This is getting a little crazy,”

“It’s really not,” Alya laughs, “I’ve done this a thousand times before. My sisters knock over my dad’s coffee way too much,”

Marinette laughs. “Alright then, show me what to do,”

Alya makes her way to the kitchen, filing through multiple cabinets. “Where’s your dish soap?”

“Bottom-left drawer next to the sink,” Marinette points.

“And your white vinegar?”

“Fridge. Anything else you need?”

“Just water,” Alya replies. “Warm, that is. And two cups of it,”

Marinette nods. “Got it,”

Alya takes out a steel bowl from one of the cabinets. “And can I use this?”

Marinette nods again. “Go ahead,”

“Great,” Alya says, pouring a spoon of dish soap followed by a spoon of vinegar. She waits for Marinette to get the water before adding that in as well, and then mixing. “That should do,”

“Work your magic then,” Marinette laughs.

“Just watch and see girl, I totally will,”

Alya finds a cleaning rag from a drawer in the island, and she runs over to the carpet. “Grab yourself a rag, Marinette, and let’s get started!”

Marinette laughs, and runs over to help. The time passes quickly, and by the time the coffee stain is gone and the carpet is dry, two hours have gone by. Their hands are sore and their legs are tired, but both can say that they had fun.

In the midst of it, Marinette almost doesn’t notice when Lila texts her.

Today

— 2 New Messages —

Lie-La 😒: open the back door

Lie-la 😒: im right by my house

Almost.

“Alya!” Marinette gasps, both sitting on the couch after the carpet was rolled back underneath the dining table. “It’s so late, don’t you have to go at 7?”

Alya tilts her head, confused. “No?”

“Oh well then I must have said it,” Marinette laughs nervously. “Yes that’s right! I’ve got work, haha. Bye!”

Marinette practically pushes Alya to the front door, while Alya looks lost and puzzled.

“Didn’t you already have work?” Alya asks.

“Yep, but gotta save up for uni right? Haha. Haha,”

Alya nods, squinting her eyes as she walks out the door.

“Um, bye? See you at school, girl,” Alya nods, quietly laughing.

“Bye!” Marinette smiles. Once Alya is farther away and out of sight, Marinette runs to open the back door. She can faintly hear the sounds of Lila’s friend’s car pulling into the driveway, so she dashes back upstairs as fast as she can. The last thing she wants to do is talk to Lila, much less be alone in a room with her.

She hopes that Lila won’t try anything while she’s in her room.

Sighing, she smiles when she stops at the attic door, and heads inside.

Before Madame Rossi found her and decided to take her in (how she came to that conclusion, Marinette would never know), the attic was all set to be Lila’s playroom. The entire room was painted pink from head to toe (even the carpet was a light shade of pink). There was a wooden wardrobe for all of Lila’s toys, and a desk with markers, painting supplies, and coloring pencils galore.

But then Marinette came along.

For one reason or another, she was given the attic as her own room. Out went the ideas of toys and tents in the room, and in came Marinette.

Madame Rossi didn’t give her anything. From the age of 2 till the age of 4, she slept on the ground, the lack of a bed present to her each night.

Until Lila outgrew her bed of course, which was then given to Marinette.

It was simple. Since Marinette was smaller than Lila, and slower at growing, she was often given Lila’s old things. All the clothes that Lila didn’t want, Marinette had. From her bed to the old beanbag in her room (one of the only things Lila gave her as decoration) everything was a hand me down from Lila herself.

Marinette sighs, and then flops into the bed. She’s lucky that Lila doesn’t bother if Marinette doesn’t get on her nerves.

Hopefully, until she can get out of this place, she’ll manage without angering Lila too much.

Standing up, Marinette locks herself in the attic, a faint click of the door behind her, and gets out her phone. Opening up Spotify, she starts her playlist, and goes over to the desk.

For the next hour, she does homework and finishes a project, all while sketching out designs for new dresses.

And hey, if she’s lucky, she might just be able to make one for the gala.

Marinette shuffles through her desk drawers, pop music playing through her earbuds. It’s nearly 8 PM and she’s searching for the special gold thread she had bought a couple weeks ago. It cost nearly a month's pay, and she’s been saving it for a special occasion.

With the dress she was sketching, she wanted to know if it was now.

She’s still searching through the drawers on the left side of the desk when she finds a box.

One that she feels might not have been there before.

(Then again, she rarely looks through all her drawers, so there’s always a chance that it could’ve been.)

Marinette feels confused. The box is made of a dark brown wood, and shaped like an octagon. The top of the box is embossed with a red design. Glimmering red circles meet wavy, thin lines, but Marinette is preoccupied with figuring out what the box is for.

In the end, she decides to open it. There can’t be much inside, can there?

Turns out, Marinette is wrong.

The moment she opens it is a frightful one. In that second, there’s a bright flash of light. It swirls around her as Marinette gasps, dropping the box onto the carpet as two solid-black earrings fall out.

That’s not the amazing part of it all though. After a second, Marinette comes face to face with a spotted red creature.

Needless to say, she screams.

“Hi Marinette!” the spotted creature says. “My name is Tikki! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Mouse!” Marinette hollers, “Bug! Bug-mouse! Talking bug mouse!”

Marinette scooches back, her hand grabbing books and papers off her desk as she throws them at Tikki.

“I’m here to help!” Tikki says, dodging the objects. “I’m here to help you!”

“Liar!” Marinette calls, searching for more things to throw. “This must be Lila’s version of a joke ! I can’t believe her!”

She takes her water-bottle from her backpack, and quickly moves to trap Tikki in it.

“It’s ok Marinette, I won’t hurt you,” Tikki smiles. “But if this makes you feel better, then this is ok!”

There’s a pause, and then Marinette sighs and chooses not to answer, leaning back, and quickly grabbing her school tablet off her desk. She points it at Tikki, trying her best to look intimidating.

“Who are you?” Marinette asks, “and what do you want?”

“Like I said, my name’s Tikki! I’m a kwami!” the tiny bug says, (still trapped in the bottle but floating in midair, Marinette notes) “And I want to help you!”

Marinette sighs, lowering her weapon tablet. “Did Lila send you somehow?”

Tikki furrows her forehead in place of her eyebrows. “No? Who’s Lila?”

Marinette bitterly chuckles, standing and throwing her arms into the air. “This. This. This is why you can’t help me. No one can. Anyone who meets Lila thinks she’s an ‘absolute angel’, and no one else knows her. How is someone supposed to help me if no one knows that my problem exists?!”

“Marinette,” Tikki sighs, “I promise you, I can help, if you’ll listen to me. Please let me explain, and then you can decide if you want to trust me or not, ok?”

Marinette pauses, considering the situation, and sits a fair distance away from Tikki, keeping her tablet in her hands.

“Ok,” she responds, facing the little bug. “But you have 5 minutes,”

Tikki smiles again. "And that's all I need,"

quick links: < previous chapter | first chapter | next chapter >

a/n: i resolve to post the next chapter soon lmaoo, thanks for reading! have an absolutely amazing day, you deserve it! 

taglist:

i’ll be tagging the people that i had tagged before, along with a couple others who liked the previous chapter for this series. if you don’t want to get tagged, i’m very sorry! just shoot me a private message, and i’ll take you off the tags. if you do want to get tagged, just tell me with a private message or an ask and i’ll add you to the taglist. thank you!

@reddragonofemeraldflame  @nomiegnome  @18markers @katbab @emmathedestroyer @bluesesameseed @cyborgcandy @karukofox21 @aestheticnpoetic c @magnificentcrapposts @miraculouslylee @lonestarfangirl2014 @lambdaarietis @miraculous-twilight @miraculous-twilight @silver-twilight @emmarosemary11​ @whiterosequeen23 @whatschooldoesntteachyou @shaykaleen @itswelphereiamuniverse​ @seraphichana​ @ladynoirotphell​ @tinynuggetofterror​ @tinkabella256​ @coopermaggie​

[angrylizardjacket]

dirtbags // 2: Lola

Summary: High school AU, 1984, Winter. It’s hard to make friends when you’re the new kid starting halfway through Junior year, but slowly Lola seems to be making a few. It’s much easier to have a rumour started about you, especially when you tend to make questionable choices at parties, but that’s much less fun.

A/N: 8173 words. Lola’s dad is the MVP, trust me. i meant to put this out a week ago whoops!! also im allowed to reference my own Queen oc as a treat. @bluehourmotel, @misscharlottelee and again, interludes are A Softer World quotes.

[ m a s t e r p o s t ]

the best revenge is living well. the second best revenge is fire ants.

The fact that after being in town for a total of two weeks, Lola’s closest friend is the gas station attendant a full fifteen minute drive away from her house is kind of sad. Not that she’s disappointed to be Mick’s friend, he’s got a dry sense of humor but a good heart and he’s refreshing honesty, but she’s been at this new school for about a week and a half, has already made out with at least one person, has possibly convinced said-person’s cousin that she’s trying to corrupt him, and started to make a name for herself - whether it’s good or bad is yet to be seen -, and yet Mick Mars, nineteen-year-old gas station attendant, apprentice electrician, and aspiring guitar player is her closest friend. 

But she’s always been kind of terrible at making friends her own age.

“You have lost all respect from me,” Mick told her on Monday morning after the party, over the counter of the gas station as he’s ringing her up for her smokes and iced coffee before she went to school, “you could have picked anyone to mack on at that party, and you chose Tommy fuckin’ Lee?”

“He was nice to me, what was I meant to do?” Lola declared, realizing too late that that statement revealed absolutely too much about herself to a near stranger. Mick, however, just gives her a flat look.

“You need higher standards.” He doesn’t seem too phased by her. Lola takes this in stride, and nods, agreeing with a sigh. 

“What time do you finish work?” She asks, changing the subjects quickly as she’s pulling out a bill from her back pocket, “dad said he’s happy to let you have a look at that weird light switch that doesn’t do anything that I was telling you about.” 

“I finish at ten tonight, I’m working a double,” he groans at the very thought of it. Lola gives him a sympathetic look, and tells him to only come around if he’s up to it, otherwise leaving it for another day.

That’s the day that Lola realises the whole school knows about her and Tommy at the party, that she has Art with Charlotte before lunch, and also that Charlotte can’t look her in the eye.

Tuesday the school realises that she’s not just Lola Who Gives It Up For Free At Parties, but that she’s Lola The New Girl and that they don’t know anything about her beyond that. There’s a guy in her wood working class with long black hair and a dangerous smile that winks at her; she flips him off, knowing all he cared about was knowing if the rumours were true. She’s got AP French last period with that ginger from the party who wouldn’t stop laughing, Eileen; she’s a lot more serious, sober. The cheerleader, Heather, won’t stop giving her these weird, calculating looks.

Wednesday there’s a new rumour, that she was expelled from her last school. The population of the school hasn’t decided what exactly they think she was expelled for yet. Turns out she has English with that guy from her woodworking class, he just hadn’t turned up for their lesson on Monday; he sits at the back like Lola, in the other corner, and the teacher calls him Nikki in a tone like she’s already disappointed. Lola can see why, he fell asleep at his desk. Art last period with Charlotte; she still barely looks at Lola. 

Thursday. Heather asks in AP French if Lola’s heard what everyone’s saying about her; her tone is sweet and dangerous in equal measure and Lola doesn’t trust what’s about to come out of her mouth. The new rumour is that Lola was expelled for sleeping with a teacher; something about the glint in Heather’s eye is cruel, and Lola asks her sweetly if she���s more jealous of Lola or the teacher. That shuts Heather up fast, and Eileen’s cough behind them sounds more like she’s trying to hide a laugh. But it still gets to her; Lola focuses so hard on ignoring the girls gossiping loudly about her at their station behind her in Home Economics that she burns the apple danishes she was attempting, and she throws the burnt pastries, and the tray they’d been cooking on, into the bin until she realises her mistake and sulkily fishes the tray out again. Thankfully, the teacher didn’t notice.

Friday, and Lola hasn’t paid much attention to Vince, whose house she’s been to but who she hadn’t properly met until their classes had P.E at the same time; he’s in the year below her, but still manages to sidle up to her while they’re both waiting for their teachers to prepare the field for whatever torture they’re masquerading as physical exercise today. She tells him to fuck off; there’s something about the way he conducts himself that she doesn’t like, like he’s putting on a show of being shallow and vain and the life of the party. Instead, Vince’s voice goes quiet and he tells her that Tommy’s a good kid with a good heart -

“You give this speech to everyone you caught making out at your parties, or just me, ‘cos you think I’m a bitch and I’m gonna hurt one of ‘your bros’?” She snapped, lip curling, and Vince’s brow creases into a frown, “I’m not his fucking girlfriend, we made out a little, you don’t have to act like I’m going to break his heart, so piss off.”

A moment passes, and he appears to don his shallow, playboy mask when he asks her slyly if the rumours are true. She shoves him hard enough that he skitters back a few feet, and Lola earns her first after school detention.

The thing is, she and Tommy are already on the same page about this, it was a what happens while drunk at a party stays at that party. Or at least, it’s meant to. Either way, Charlotte’s protectiveness, and Vince’s... attempt at protectiveness was unwarranted. Maybe it’s because Tommy, for whatever reason, has started hanging around Lola at lunch.

She doesn’t sit in the cafeteria like the rest of them, or even on that little section of the roof the intimidating pack of punks, rockers, and smokers have found a way to get to. Lola sits against the fence near the science building, close to the carpark that’s always open for some stupid reason, as though she’s contemplating bolting.

“Don’t you have friends?” Lola’s tone is kind of hard, and perhaps her words are on the nose, and a little cruel, but it’s Wednesday, and this is the third day in a row he’s found her and spent the entirety of lunch with her. They don’t speak much, Lola smokes and picks apart whatever her dad’s latest cooking experiment is before she eats it, and Tommy practices twirling his drumsticks. 

“I have friends, do you?” Tommy responds, more than a little defensive, rubbing at his brow where he’d just managed to hit himself mid-drumstick-twirl, taken aback by her question. Lola gives him a flat look. “Someone told me you were expelled from your last school,” Tommy’s gaze shifts to the carpark, to the last car and it’s telltale rocking and fogged up windows.

“They say why?”

“Nah,” Tommy shakes his head, scowl softening as he gets back to practicing, “it true?” Lola’s picking out and eating the apple chunks from the slice of pie her father had packed for the day, still watching the car with the mildest of interest. She shakes her head. Tommy hums noncommittally. They spend the rest of lunch in silence.

“He keeps hanging out with me!” The following afternoon, Lola gripes to Mick on his smoke break after she gets out of school for the afternoon.

“You keep hanging out with me,” Mick points out, peeling the label off of a bottle of soda.

“And?”

“I don’t tell you to fuck off.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Because,” and Mick heaves a heavy sigh, like it pains him to admit, “we’re friends, Lola,” but he pauses and amends, “God knows why.”

“Fuck you, I’m a delight,” Lola huffs, and pulls her oversized denim jacket tighter around herself to ward off the chill of the afternoon breeze. If this were pretty much any other state, they’d be knee-deep in snow; thank God for LA, snow’s pretty for five minutes before it’s a pain.

“Do you tell him to fuck off?” Mick asks pointedly, as if exhausted that he has to spell it out for her. Lola’s quiet, but her answer’s clear. Mick clears his throat with a cough. Lola’s scowl deepens. 

She brings it up to her father that night. 

“Do you reckon Tommy’s trying to be my friend?” She asked, gaze intense as she focuses on slicing apples into little cubes. Leo, her father, who was kneeding a blend of spices into a ball of dough that would end up being a pie crust, paused.

“The kid who has been hanging out with you at lunch?” He thought for a moment, “the one from the party?”

“I told him it was nothing serious-” Lola tried, exasperatedly cutting the apples a little rougher, but her father’s warm, gentle laugh cut her off.

“Yes, I think he’s trying to be your friend,” he told her, which Lola hadn’t exactly wanted to hear, but the information was easier to digest coming from him than it was coming from Mick, “he obviously likes you -”

“But I told him -”

“I know, you told him it wasn’t serious, but dear, that doesn’t mean he likes you less as a person - you’re a very cool cat, I can see why he’d want to be your friend,” he gives her finger guns, and Lola can’t help but laugh softly at his attempt to be hip. 

“Christ, dad,” Lola huffs, smiling fondly, but he’d managed to cheer her spirits considerably. 

“I burnt my danishes today,” Lola’s voice goes quiet as she goes back to focusing on her task, and her dad makes a noise of intrigue, “got distracted and crisped the whole tray.”

“You’ll get ‘em next time; just fifteen minutes, remember?”

“Fifteen minutes, no distractions,” Lola agreed, almost by rote, thankful that he doesn’t ask about what had distracted her. She can still hear the whispered gossip and giggles that had come from the cooking station behind her in Home Economics.

Her dad knows that her peers think she was expelled from her last school, but she keeps her mouth shut about the fact that today they’d decided it was because she had relations with a teacher; he knows almost everything about her, but he didn’t need to know about a whole school calling her a slut. He’d blow it out of proportion, and it isn’t getting to her since she knew for a fact it wasn’t true. 

They finish the apple pie with it’s rosemary and lemongrass crust in good spirits. The flavours don’t go together as well as Leo had hoped, but it’s another step closer to the perfect apple pie he’d been trying for. Leo packs her two of the leftover slices for lunch, as a not-so-subtle hint. 

On Friday, Lola hands Tommy a plastic container with a piece of apple pie, with a rosemary and lemongrass crust in it.

“Is it poison?” He asks. Lola doesn’t look at him, picking the individual apple pieces out and eating them one at a time.

“The crust tastes weird if you eat it with the filling,” Lola’s voice is flat as she explains instead of answering, “but the apples are sweet.” She eats another cube of apple, then breaks off a corner of the golden, perfectly cooked crust, now cold and stiff from spending the night in the refrigerator. 

“Why are you giving me this?” 

“Eat it or don’t, I don’t care,” Lola tells him, hunching further in on herself; like this, she can’t see the way Tommy’s expression has broken out into a smile.

“Thanks Lola,” but the smile is evident in his voice, confirming all of her suspicions at once. Tommy took her at her word when she said the rumours weren’t true, even if the rest of the school believed them, so Lola supposes she’s actually okay with the fact that her second ever friend in the entirety of California is the marching band geek in the year below her who she made out with at a party once. 

Also maybe she’s just kind of terrible at making friends.

you and me baby! we are the future! and the future is bleak.

“Wait, you’ve never met Nikki Sixx?” Tommy asked, sitting patiently with his back against the fence, his hand resting on her knee as she fills in the the nails of his left hand with black sharpie, “didn’t you go to his gig the other week?”

“I didn’t know anyone,” Lola pointed out, and Tommy makes a thoughtful noise.

“You’d love him, he’s so fucking cool,” he assured her, which made Lola give pause; Tommy also thinks Vince is fucking cool, and she wants to throw Vince out a window, “he was the one on bass.” 

“The one in the leather pants?” Lola couldn’t help but smile at the memory; she’d appreciated it at the time, and could appreciate it now. Tommy, however, rolled his eyes.

“The girls love the leather pants,” he gave a quiet sigh, before adding, almost to himself, “wish I had leather pants.” 

“Leather pants would look good on you,” Lola pinches at his thigh for a moment, and goes back to filling in his nails. missing Tommy’s pleased, flustered little smile. 

“You know Freddie paints his nails like this,” Tommy says instead, changing the topic of conversation.

“Freddie?”

“Mercury. From Queen; you know Queen, right?” And he sounds kind of skeptical, like if she doesn’t know them, they can’t be friends anymore. Lola pauses again, her hand soft on Tommy’s where she’s filling in around his ring finger’s cuticle.

“I wanna climb John Deacon like a fucking tree,” she mutters, which startles a laugh out of Tommy, his hand jerking up to cover his mouth, making Lola leave a black line against his knee, through the rip in his jeans. When she looks up at him, however, her eyes are shining with mirth, “come on, man, you must have seen the video of them performing in Montreal last year!” And she licks her lips, watching Tommy’s blush grow steadily darker. After a beat, Lola bursts out laughing, shattering the tension and shifting to sit beside him, idly doodling on her own hand with the marker as Tommy shakes his head with amusement.

Lola starts humming Back Chat to herself, and Tommy leans his head back against the wire of the fence, listening for a moment.

“You and Charlie would get along great too,” he considers, and Lola doesn’t stop humming, nor does she look to him, “she likes Roger, but probably just because she thinks he’s pretty.” Lola can hear his eyeroll without even seeing it, and she’s not sure why, but she files that information away in the back of her mind; she’d never gotten an especially shallow vibe from Charlotte, but there was a uncertain undeniable appeal to Roger Taylor’s pretty-boy charm.

“Didn’t his girlfriend leave him for Bowie?” Lola asks mildly, barely pausing to speak between humming notes.

“Rocket Mercury?”

“Her name’s Rocket?” Lola snorts, finally looking at him, and Tommy’s lips twisted into an amused grin. 

“Her name’s Ash, but everyone calls her Rocket,” he says, like he’s in the know, and Lola stays quiet, nodding and trying not to laugh, “and yeah, I think so, she’s been with a few people since him I think; Bowie, this girl from this English band Hawkwind, Elton John maybe? Or someone around him I think.” Tommy nods, and Lola’s kind of intrigued as to why he knows so much about Queen’s drummer’s partner, but something else has caught her attention.

“A girl from Hawkwind?” Tommy doesn’t seem to notice the way Lola’s voice has softened, or how her expression has dropped to something carefully neutral. She’s drawing a little flower on the knuckle of her thumb.

“One of their dancers, Stacy, maybe?” Tommy’s own tone is light, like he doesn’t even realise Lola’s hanging onto his every word regarding this one little detail about a woman she doesn’t even know, “was kind of a scandal, but it was years ago; she’s Freddie’s sister after all, maybe it’s genetic.”

“Genetic?”

“Liking girls and guys, you know?” And he pauses. Lola’s frozen beside him, the marker pressed hard against her skin, breath caught in her throat. He throws it out so casually, so easily. Her hands are shaking. The words so kind when he says them, so unlike what she’s used to hearing. Tommy’s already moved on to the next thought. “actually, I’m not sure if Freddie’s like, legit her brother, but anyways, she and Roger are back together; I’m glad.” As if a sixteen-year-old’s opinion on a rock legend’s love life mattered, “he seems happier with her, all his best live shows were when they were together.”

“I’d kill to play half as well as him,” it’s almost wistful when Tommy says it, interrupting Lola’s thoughts, his gaze trained on the sky, as if imagining he’s on stage himself. Lola lets out a long, quiet breath, recentering herself as she looks to him.

“You wanna play drums?” 

“I can play drums,” Tommy tells her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but not nearly as good as Roger Fucking Taylor, can you imagine?” But Lola’s more focused on the -

“I thought you just played in the marching band, can you play, like, full -” and she sits forward, gesturing like she’s tapping on a full drumkit, eyes shinning. Suddenly, in the face of her rare, unrestrained smile, Tommy feels himself growing nervous, like he’ll let her down if he’s not actually as good as he thinks he is.

“I’ve got a kit in my garage,” he admits, and Lola pauses, letting her excitement simmer, as though realising it had gotten the best of her, breaking her cool and aloof facade.

“That’s cool as hell,” she does add, however, and Tommy beams.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, all flustered at even the slightest praise, “man, you’d really like Charlie, I know she looks all fancy and intimidating, but she’s a real softie inside.”

“You are really pushing hard for me to be friends with your cousin,” Lola notes, giving him a sidelong glance, and Tommy’s nose scrunches up, caught out.

“She thinks you’re trying to corrupt me,” he grumbles, “but if you guys met she’d know you’re not.”

“I am corrupting you,” Lola smirks, “next week I plan on peer pressuring you into smoking.”

“I’ve smoked before!” Tommy’s up in arms, like the implication that he hasn’t done something as low-level cool as smoking offends him.

“Dude I was kidding, I gave you half my cigarette yesterday,” Lola reminds him, and the bell rings.

While Lola was more than happy to let sleeping dogs lie, it appeared that Charlotte was not, and less than two days after her conversation with Tommy, Lola finds herself sitting by Charlotte’s side in their shared art class.

It’s the last class of the day, and Charlotte’s the one who sits by Lola. There’s no preamble, barely acknowledging the decision, just opening her notebook and focusing on the theory the teacher had already started to jot down on the whiteboard.

When they’re given free time, however, to work on personal projects, Charlotte opens her sketchbook and sharpens her pencil, and without looking at Lola, begins speaking quietly.

“Tommy thinks we’d get along,” Charlotte sounds completely innocent and perfectly harmless, but Lola remember how Charlotte had looked at her, part deer-in-the-headlights startled at the realisation, and knee-jerk protective fury, at Vince’s party when she realised who Lola had been kissing. 

“So I’ve heard,” Lola doesn’t look up, but Charlotte’s pencil stills on her paper. After a beat, Lola turns to see Charlotte giving her a curious look. Propping her head up on her hand, Lola gives a thin, amused smile, “he also thinks I’d be good friends with Nikki Sixx; was he the one you yelled at, at the gig?”

Instead of being flustered or going red at the mention of the moment, Charlotte’s expression lights up, as if the idea somehow delights her, and slowly she’s nodding. All her earlier reservations and hostility was quickly leaving her.

“Yeah, actually I told Nikki you reminded me of him, actually -”

“I remind you of Nikki?” Lola’s grin widened, and she shifted to face Charlotte further. 

“He’s kind of a tool -” Charlotte blurted after a moment of contemplation, and Lola’s eyebrows raised in amused surprise. Charlotte’s quick to backtrack, “I mean, I’m not saying you are- well, I don’t know you, but I mean, Tommy -” Charlotte frowns at that, expression falling as she considered quietly, “actually, I mean, I love him, but he’s not the greatest judge of character; he thinks Nikki hangs the stars, despite never really speaking to him,” she pauses and heaves a sigh of realisation, “that probably why he thinks so highly of him -”

“I thought they were friends,” Lola’s genuinely surprised, given how kindly Tommy had spoken of him.

“Half the school is terrified of Nikki, half seems to be in love with him; Tommy’s in the second half.”

“And which half are you?”

“I’m the only person who seems to think he’s just kind of a pest,” Charlotte’s response is surprisingly mild, as if she doesn’t quite believe what she’s saying.

“He’s talented, though,” Lola offers, and Charlotte looks back to her, as if brought from her own thoughts. There’s a pause, a lull. Lola puts down her pen, and turns more fully to Charlotte, stretching her arm out over the desk, and resting her head fully on it, like a particularly smug cat stretching out in the sun. Charlotte is slower to put down her pencil, but does so after another moment, pristine fingernails drumming against her sketchbook for a moment. 

“He was talented,” Charlotte agreed, thought it sounds like she doesn’t quite want to, “my ex actually got me into his kind of music, he was a fan of Nikki’s too; I’d tell Nikki I enjoy his music but it’d go straight to his ego,” and she casts Lola a sidelong look, lips stretched into a smirk, which Lola returns. 

“I am a little bit of a tool,” Lola finally admits with a self deprecating grin, and Charlotte shakes her head.

“You’d fucking love him,” Charlotte tells her, with a strained, sort of resigned huff of laughter, like the concept of them meeting was a little bit horrifying, and already exhausting.

“You like his kind of music,” Lola circled back around to quickly, “never pictured you as a hard rocker, you’re very...” and she trails down, looking at Charlotte’s pristine cheerleading uniform, and thick, black tights, the only thing protecting her legs from the Winter air. The blonde shifts a little uncomfortably under the scrutiny, brow furrowing.

“I know,” Charlotte says flatly, crossing her ankles, far too self aware in the moment, “you expect me to just be listening to nothing but Abba and Madonna all day?” She sneers, suddenly haughty again, and Lola licks her lips, intrigued; she can tell she’s pushed a button, and debates for a moment if she wants to press it further. 

“Not all the time,” Lola said, sitting back up slowly, “but I mean, I’m kind of partial to Does Your Mother Know, there’s no shame in loving Abba,” she shrugs, and Charlotte lets herself visibly relax. 

“Never pictured you as an Abba fan,” Charlotte actually grins.

There’s a distinct lack of hostility in the air between the two girls by the time the class ends, after spending the entire class gushing over various bands across a surprising range of genres, and Lola quickly finds she appreciates how wrong her initial impression of Charlotte had been.

As they’re leaving for the day, or well, Lola’s leaving, and Charlotte’s heading to cheer practice, the conversation lulls as Charlotte grows thoughtful.

“Hey, just... Tommy’s kind of a hopeless romantic,” and even as she speaks, she knows Lola’s growing irate at Charlotte’s hesitant tone, “and honestly, the girls he goes for usually don’t... they don’t usually give him the time of day, and he obviously thinks the world of you, I just don’t want you to -”

“I’ve told him that I don’t want to date him; he’s the one who keeps hanging around me,” Lola’s own tone appears to surprise Charlotte, now that she understands the root of the other girl’s protectiveness, “we’re...” and the word catches in Lola’s throat for a moment, knowing that speaking it makes it true, “friends.” 

Lola glances at Charlotte out the corner of her eye, and sees the way Charlotte’s lips twist into a pleased little smirk.

“I was just making sure.”

love is stupid. happiness is admitting we aren’t better than stupid.

Leo Fields, thirty-nine years old, owner of soon-to-be-named Leo Diner’s in suburban LA, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, who worked in the luxurious Parker House restaurant in Boston and quit after ten years there, including three years as Sous Chef and one year as Head Chef, only to open his own 50s style diner a mere ten minutes away in Salem, has and will always claim his favourite food is Easy Cheese.

Once, a long time ago, Lola had asked him why.

She’s asked him a lot of things, why he’d left his high-end restaurant to essentially flip burgers, why he kept his hair long, what his tattoos meant -

Lola’s eight, sitting on the counter and swinging her legs while Leo was crushing garlic to add to their dinner, his hair tied back into a large bun atop his head.

“People will try and tell you that just because something is expensive, fancy, or higher class,” Leo had rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at that, putting on a voice to make his daughter laugh, “that it’s better; they are wrong. If something brings you joy, it is better than all things that do not bring you joy, no matter how fancy the things you don’t like are,” he’d told her very seriously, “better is not real, better is what you believe; better for you means healthier, and that’s real, but when people use better to mean good, they mean that it’s good in their mind, and maybe you agree, but maybe you won’t.” And he scrapes the garlic into the pan and oil cooking on low as he then began dicing onions.

“I use all my fancy training and knowledge to make foods I think are better, but now I get to also serve them with a smile, and I get to talk to the people I’m giving the food to, get to know them, let them know they’re welcome here,” he tries to smile while his eyes are watering from the onions, almost finished cutting them. “People in my old fancy restaurant didn’t want that, they wanted you to think they were better than you, and if you thought their food wasn’t good, that’s because you’re not fancy enough, and you’re not welcome here.” 

“But that’s wrong,” Lola said with a slight frown, looking to her father for confirmation, and after he wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, he beamed.

“Exactly,” he nodded and scraped the diced onions into the pan too, moving easily about the kitchen to pull mince from the refrigerator, “people liking something different to you is actually great; if everyone in the world liked Easy Cheese, we’d never be able to buy it!” And Lola laughed at that, the example making it easy for her to understand his point, “but making them feel bad for liking those things, that’s bad; that’s why I have my hair long, why I have my tattoos, they’re part of who I am, they’re part of my family’s history and where I come from, and I like them. If someone else is rude to me because of them, then I know right away that’s not someone I want in my life. People like to think they’re better than other people for stupid reasons sometimes.”

“Like if they’re fancy or not?” Lola asks, and Leo gives her a fond smile and nod.

“Like if they’re fancy or not.”

Leo’s not sure if Lola even remembers this, but he does. So when Lola, seventeen years old, standing in the kitchen, eating a ham and Easy Cheese sandwich after school, tells him that Charlotte, the girl in her art class, Tommy-from-the-party’s cousin, complimented her jacket, the pin-and-patch-covered, black, denim, proto-crust-punk, heirloom he’d loaned to her since she’d asked to wear it when starting a new school, and had barely gone a day without it, he can read into her smile even when it’s hidden behind her sandwich.

“Sounds like she has good taste,” Leo leans his hip against the counter top, legs feeling the warmth of the oven where he’s got a loaf of herb and garlic bread baking away. 

Lola spends a full twenty minutes enthusing about Charlotte’s taste in music, eyes bright and tone animated. He only interrupts her to hand her a packet of prosciutto and a bundle of asparagus, so she could help him prepare for dinner, but it doesn’t slow her down, hands working quickly, while Leo boiled potatoes and simmered some garlic in butter on a low heat. 

Both Lola and Leo know why Lola’s been so hesitant to make friends since moving, and she knows he’d never push her into friendship, but Lola also knows it hurts him to see her lonely.

“Hey dad, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lola says after a long pause, finally taking a breath after she’s finished recounting her day to him, “you know Queen, right?”

“Do I know Queen?” Leo jokingly scoffed, “Lola, I’m the one who introduced you to Queen.” He reminded, and Lola gave a small smile, but her heart wasn’t in it; she wasn’t usually nervous, but talking about this sort of thing still made her heart race a little. Seeing her hesitant expression, Leo’s own softens, and he turns down the potatoes to turn his full attention to her, “what about Queen?”

“I didn’t know Freddie’s sister was with the drummer,” Lola starts, fiddling with the final piece of asparagus. She’s quick to follow it up before she can chicken out, “and I didn’t know... she’s like Bowie, and Fred, and... and me, you know?” Lola finally wraps up the final vegetable and places it on the glass baking tray with the rest, before she looks to her father who was watching her pensively, hoping he understands what she’s trying to say.

“That’s little Rocket Mercury you’re talking about, isn’t it?” He asked as a smile stretched across his lips, “I heard that about her, I always thought she was so cool, she worked on Spinal Tap, you remember I took you to see Spinal Tap a few months ago?” 

Lola’s heart eases in her chest at his words, his warmth, the way he seems to reflect positively on the news. While Lola knew she didn’t have anything to worry about, since the whole reason Leo had taken her and moved across the country was her mother’s less-than-kind reaction to the news of Lola dating a girl, the memory of it all still made her nervous.

Leo’s entire face lights up, and he makes a loud exclamation, like suddenly remembering some vital information, snapping Lola out of her dwelling.

“How have I never played you any Dusty Springfield?” He announces, picking up the glass tray from the table and placing it to the side, “I’ve got some of her records in my collection,” the oven timer goes off and he asks Lola to watch the potatoes so they don’t overboil while he takes out the bread and puts the asparagus in, “Dusty’s like you too; she’s a pop-star from the sixties, lovely voice, told the Evening Standard she liked girls and boys all the way back in nineteen-seventy.” He says as he sets the timer for the asparagus, and Lola wraps her arms around him from behind, if only to hide how wide she’s smiling.

“She pretty?” Lola asked, grinning against his soft, woolen sweater. Leo gently pet her hands where they were wrapped around his middle, giving a warm laugh.

“Very; it’s no wonder girls and boys liked her too.”

Lola had never seen her father flinch in the face of change, and for that she would always be grateful for him. The only time she’d ever seen him lose his cool was when he’d come to her defense against her mother’s bigotted views; apart from that, she’d never known anyone more willing to go with the flow.

Take last week, for instance, Mick had taken Saturday off from the gas station to go look at the fixture Lola had mentioned not seemingly connected to anything. Leo had finally had the red and white, checkered floor installed earlier that week, and the booths had been reupholstered over Thursday and Friday in a shiny, inviting, deep peach, to compliment the warm aesthetic completed by the pleasantly sunny walls. 

One of the many things about Lola is that she know when people look at her father, they never expect him to be the embodiment of sunshine; six-foot-something, built like a tank from doing a majority of the manual labor around his diners on his own. His traditional, Hawaiian tattoos were on full display today, across his chest, arms, and legs, wearing a singlet and shorts despite it being the middle of winter, after spending all morning hauling an industrial freezer into the kitchen, with what little help Lola could offer. He wears his long, wavy black hair in a ponytail down his back; the only thing that ever betrayed the warmth of his personality was the crows feet by his eyes, the laugh lines around his mouth, and the kindness in his eyes themselves.

Leo Fields, teddy-bear in the body of a GI Joe, took one look at Mick Mars, the weary, rather scrawny teenager with barely any face visible for his long, shaggy, dyed black hair, and gave him a bright smile, ushering him inside. He introduces himself, and immediate asks what kind of music Mick listened to.

“I fucking hate Kiss,” Mick had said immediately, knee-jerk hostility, the way he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other being the only giveaway to how intimidated he felt.

“They can be a lot some times,” Leo had shrugged, gesturing to the jukebox, “I’ve already put a few of my favourites in, you wanna see if anything catches your eye?” Mick moves quietly, as if afraid to make a noise, even stepping in combat boots he barely makes a sound, and Leo makes mention that he’s going to freshen up, and that Lola knows what switch needs to be looked at. 

“Hendrix?” Mick says with a hint of pleased surprise, right before Leo leaves, and Lola’s father gives a nod.

“Put it on, man, turn it up loud; it’s Electric Ladyland in there, right?” And at Leo’s question, Mick nods. Leo gives a delighted thumbs up, and heads upstairs to the flat above the diner.

“That’s your dad?” Mick asks, voice low after Leo’s disappeared, hitting play on the Jimi Hendrix record. Lola’s sitting on the counter, swinging her legs; she knows looks like him, same face, same long, dark hair, same copper complexion, it’s usually the staggering difference in their respective physicalities that seemed to trip people up, so his confusion wasn’t a surprise.

“That’s my dad,” Lola agrees, with a slight nod, looking around the warm and inviting diner that still smelled like new vinyl from the seats. She’d light a candle or two later. 

Lola knows the rumours going around town about the diner, about how it’s owner was a chef, about how it’s hopefully going to serve better food than the last owners, but also how everyone knew very little about the new owner beyond that. It made her giddy, like she had a secret, to know that her father was capable of blowing their expectations out of the water with his food alone. Back in Salem, Leo’s was known for restaurant-quality food at, well, diner prices. All the fries were hand cut, there was always home made pie or slice or cookies on sale, the beef patties were made with real mince and mixed with Leo’s special blend of herbs and spices, and fish was delivered fresh, daily. 

Lola knew her father knew what it was like to be discriminated against based on his looks, and how hard he’d fought to prove his skills as a chef, so in turn, he hired based on attitude and experience, and trying to give those who may not have had a fair shot an opportunity. Leo had always paid well, treated his workers with kindness, and tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. The diner had only ever made a modest profit, despite it’s popularity, but it had never been about the money for her father.

Back at Lola’s old high school, if you were popular, you looked for a job at the mall, but if you were an outcast, a loner, or a stoner, you applied for Leo’s; her dad had the ability to bring out the best in people, no-one wanted to disappoint Leo.

Her dad would never go anything as gauche as brag, but he has always prided himself on the quality of his diner and his food, glad to be putting his years of training and experience to use for people who’s appreciate it. 

Mick clears his throat, snapping Lola out of her thoughts.

“Light switch?”

Mick thinks the switch probably connected to an exhaust fan the previous owner had removed, which baffled both Lola and Leo, seeing as how they’d had several exhaust fans installed, and the idea that this place had it’s one removed is unthinkable; how had they ever gotten the smell out?

After, Leo invites Mick up to have a look through his record collection, to recommend some for the jukebox, while he attempted a maple and walnut soufflé. 

The moment Mick mentions he wants to join a band, Leo lights up, peppers him with questions, what type of music he likes to play, his influences, what type of band he’d like to form. Seemingly unused to the overwhelming interest and positivity regarding his aspirations, Mick is almost startled into being forthcoming, and quickly warms to Lola’s dad.

While the soufflé’s in the oven, the three of them sit on the roof and smoke, while Leo reminisces about seeing Cream live, a few months after Lola was born, and how he’d swaddled her in his concert shirt, only for her to take a liking to it, and had used it as a blanket up until she started daycare. At hearing this, Lola ducks her head to hide her smile, knowing she still had that shirt, though it was more hole than shirt at this point, hanging in her cupboard. 

Occasionally, when she looks to him, Lola sees Mick regarding her with confusion, and okay, maybe she can understand why; he knows her to be reserved and dry, but with Leo, she’s outgoing and talkative and smiles so wide he can see her teeth. There’s barely a hint of her aloof façade around her father, and as Mick spends more time with him, it’s clear he can see why.

“Mick’s cool,” Leo announces with a grin when Mick himself has left, putting foil over the leftover soufflé for later, while Lola washes the few dishes and is more than happy to agree with him.

They spend Sunday decorating the diner, making it look less sparse with photos and hanging and various bits of music and pop culture memorabilia, while the jukebox blared rock and roll. A few people pass by in time to see Lola and Leo in an air guitar competition, but neither of them really care. Leo’s looks more like home by the time the sun goes down. 

there will always be someone better than you. but on the bright side, who cares?

Eileen sits next to her in AP French during the entire last week of school for the semester. Everything she does seems so perfectly calculated, this change in seating included, but she refuses to acknowledge it. Heather clicks her tongue, clearly annoyed that Eileen had taken the seat she had previously vacated the day Lola staked her own next to it, and judging by Eileen’s innocent little smile, that alone made it worth it.

Lola tries not to pay too much attention to Heather, pretty, mean, and popular, almost the exact stereotype Lola had assumed Charlotte to be before she’d actually befriended her. They only have French together, but Heather keeps watching her, Lola sees it out of the corner of her eye, but her glare has become more speculative, more thoughtful as the weeks have passed, and Lola’s not quite sure what to make of it. Whatever scathing personal attack Heather’s probably working on is her business, she doesn’t know shit about Lola, so Lola tries not to care.

Once Eileen sits next to Lola, the glare comes back in full force anyhow.

On Thursday, the last AP French lesson for the semester, Eileen offers Lola a stick of spearmint gum, and it feels kind of like a test. Lola takes the gum anyways, and Eileen smiles at her, surprisingly genuine. 

“You’re Charlotte’s friend,” Lola says, and Eileen’s smile widens.

“You’re the girl who kissed her cousin,” she says. Lola’s whole expression falls, mouth flattening into a thin, unamused line, ready to go on the defensive. 

“And?”

Eileen shrugs, says nothing more on the subject, instead, glancing at Lola’s hands.

“My mom would kill me for wearing black nail polish, but it looks so cool on you,” She says, and Lola bites back a jaded response about her own mother, looking to her own hands, and the fresh and shiny coat of polished she’d applied the night before. 

“Your mom kind of sounds like an asshole, if black nail polish is enough to get her riled up,” Lola says, without even thinking about how harsh the words sounded, but once the words are out, she adds, “and I know from asshole moms,” for good measure. Internally, she’s berating herself; if she talks about her mom, she’s terrified that she’s eventually going to answer questions about her mom, like where she was, and why Lola hates her.

“She’s just a perfectionist, and I don’t think black would suit me anyhow, so it’s not really an issue,” Eileen responds, as if she barely cares that Lola implied her mother was an asshole, and Lola lets herself relax a little, “I’m partial to a french tip,” Eileen holds out her hands to show her own manicure, the pale pink and white practically gleaming, obviously salon done. 

“I coloured Tommy’s nails with sharpie,” Lola says while looking at Eileen’s elegant fingers, and Eileen actually huffs a laugh at that.

“I saw; he’s very proud of them.” 

Something in Lola’s chest tightens at that; Charlotte seemed to be a good enough judge of character, and she liked Eileen well enough, so that, for now, was good enough for Lola.

Perhaps that’s why Lola had taken so long to actually speak to Nikki Sixx, despite both Charlotte and Tommy being adamant they’d get along, Charlotte’s proclamation that Nikki was kind of a tool held her back.

It’s not that she doesn’t know who he is; she’s figured out the guy who sleeps through her English classes, is trying to make an acoustic guitar in shop, and who is part of her music classes - once she’d decided to show up to those - is the same person she’d seen on stage in leather pants back at the pub. The guy who Charlotte had yelled at. A tool. Apart from the week the rumours had started circulating about her, he never paid her much attention, so she never felt the need to introduce herself. If he was a tool, she could leave him well enough alone.

Until the first day of the Winter break, apparently. Though for the record, he was the one who spoke to her.

There were technically two music shops in the local mall, a ten minute walk from Lola’s flat above the diner; she’s glad to be close to the CBD, but it also means she can’t justify asking her dad for a ride when it would take her less time to walk than it would for him to find parking. 

But Monday, December 27th, was absolutely fucking freezing. 

The mall itself is teeming with people looking to spend the money they’d gotten over the holiday period, and the workers had already taken down the gaudy Christmas Tree that had sat in the middle of the food court. 

Lola was there at her father’s behest, sticking up and handing out flyers announcing New Year’s Day as Leo’s grand opening, and that they were hiring. She gives everyone at the food court a flyer, sticks up several in various locations, and thinks about heading back to the food court for a second round, to catch any newcomers, or anyone she may have missed, when she spots the music shops.

Bass and Treble were owned by the same people, however Treble seemed to be geared towards more classical music, with pianos and violins and flutes and all manor of orchestra-esque instruments available, while Bass seemed to be committed to rock and roll. 

Nikki Sixx finds Lola crouched in front of the display of sheet music on sale in Bass. 

“Lola, right?”

Lola stands so fast at his voice that her head spins, but she tries not to let it show. She’s on alert when she looks at him, tense, already scowling, which only deepens when she sees who it is.

“Nikki Sixx,” his name is not a question when it leaves her lips, but he seems pleased rather than concerned, that his reputation apparently preceded him. He nods, and looks over at what she’d been examining. 

“Anything good?” He asked, and Lola looks over her shoulder at the display. She’d been seriously considering a book of Elton John’s hits for piano before he’d come along. 

“Still deciding; why?”

“No reason,” he shrugged, taking his time to look nonchalantly at the various amps nearby, “you look like you’d be into this sort of thing,” he notes, acting all smug and coy and weird; Lola rolled her eyes, but didn’t answer.

“You were at my gig, we’re you? Hanging out with that guy from the gas station, right? Mick?” Something about his tone had Lola on edge and defensive.

“You guys were okay,” she says flatly, making it clear as she can that that’s barely a compliment; Nikki, however, smile widely.

“Glowing review, I’ll add it to our poster,” he smirks, before he finally looks her over, gaze zeroing in on the flyers in her hands, “speaking of -” and he snatches one, not that she’s protesting, that’s another one she doesn’t have to get rid of. Nikki’s reading the flyer and frowning, while Lola lets her attention wander to the various keyboards they have on display.

“Where’s this?” Nikki pipes up, sounding genuinely interested, while Lola’s idly playing scales with one hand on the closest, off keyboard.

“A few blocks away,” Lola still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of the town’s geography, “across the road from The Kings Hotel, where I saw you play -”

“The old MacCready place?”

“It’s Leo’s now,” Lola says, arms crossed, sitting low in her hips as she regards Nikki, and the way he’s going over every little detail of the poster, “Charlotte says you’re a tool.”

“Charlotte just hates that she likes me so much,” Nikki doesn’t even miss a beat before answering, and when he looks up to catch Lola’s reaction, his grin is all teeth. Lola can’t help the slight smile she wears as she takes in his response.

“I can see why,” Lola’s not quite sure what she’s going for with her own response, but it comes out more teasing than cutting, and there’s something in Nikki’s eye, or in his smile, or maybe it’s in his easy laughter, that has her heart beating weird in her chest.

A moment passes between them, a shift in the tone, the energy of the interaction as Lola drops her immediate hostility; she’s been doing that a lot lately, but she tries not to dwell on it. It’s now she gets a proper look at him, at his ripped jeans and all black, leather jacket, hair sprayed to high heavens like he’s about to join Poison; he looks unkempt and mean, and Lola’s kind of really into it.

They’re checking each other out, sizing each other up, and they both seem to find something in the other they like, because Nikki’s grinning at Lola when gaze meets hers again, and she’s smirking right back.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she tells him, hip cocked for a moment before she saunters past him, knocking into him with her shoulder purposefully. When Nikki stumbles back, he huffs a laugh, and Lola calls over her shoulder, “Leo’s is hiring by the way, Leo himself would probably love a fucker like you.”

[halfhappyhooligan]

a voltron au? in 2020? it’s more likely than you think

look. LOOK. i know that voltron is stupid and we hate it but lets be honest: everything up until season 3 was pretty good and had lots of potential !!

today i was rewatching voltron and a thought struck me: what if, instead of shiro being cloned, he was chipped and turned to the side of the galra?

so here it is, i did not blink since i thought of this

(warning, i have not seen voltron in a while and this is just knowledge i have stored in my moss brain and stuff i know from rewatching the first season)

au where shiro goes evil bc of what happens @ end of season one instead of the clone thing bc 1) haggar rly could not have made thousands of shiros after bumping into team voltron like what twice? its hella improbable and 2) just… weird

so instead they insert a chip in him that helps them spy and control him just like kuron (the clone) did minus the unlikely storytelling

eventually after the convo with sendak when he was in the pod trying to temp shirp, he does have thoughts about helping zarkon

(“im already infiltrated with the arm, i could just speed up the process by leaving now. save the team the trouble of investing in a leader that’s doomed to fail from the strart.”)

shiro ends up leaving team voltron in season 2 after zarkon goes crazy w the black lion n stuff

^^ this adds to Keith’s reasoning of joining the Blade of Marmora (shiro is his main stability and one of the main reasons he even stuck around with team voltron, so with shiro gone and keith questioning his place as the leader and paladin of the black lion, he decides the BoM is just.. what’s best for him) 

obviously lance isn’t happy with this (“you just told me that i’m a valuable member, now you don’t think YOU are? what logic is that?”)

ofc keith goes anyways

lance becomes paladin of the black lion

allura takes on the red lion

who has blue lion? ...idk this isn’t that thought out (maybe matt after pidge finds her family) (which will happen earlier in the plot since we can forget about the miniplot of black no longer responding to shiro)

enter lotor only this time he has a sidekick and what omg its shiro wow

shiro has that bigger version of his arm that was once offered to him

he’s stronger and scary, but his eyes aren’t the same, he has the strength of a galra but lacks the passion 

in the fight between lotor and zarkon, (and after, of course lots of self doubt and questioning) shiro comes between them and convinces lotor NOT to kill zarkon

then zarkon kills lotor

everyones like oh shit bc surely someone who’s life was just spared wouldn’t kill the person who seems to have the most power

but he did. bc he’s zarkon. and he’s fckn crazy.

shiro doesn’t go back to team voltron bc its too much too easily

instead he takes the place of lotor in the group of gals 

he convinces them all to rebel against the galra

eventually they teach him all about quintessence and all the shit lotor had planned that they can’t do anymore

(lotor wasn’t harvesting alteans in this universe bc what the heck even was that subplot that had little to no relevance to the main storyline?

instead he was trying to find a way to technologically bring back alteans (kinda like how allure’s dad was originally preserved in s1)

i know nothing about How Stuff Works and i dont remember much about quintessence n shit but the basic idea is that when tying in some of a persons artifacts with technology stuff and some quintessence then boom. a weird route from astral projection land to the team is created and ppl can come back or smth idfk

but lotor was never able to get the comet so shiro decides he and the gals will get that comet and try to bring back as many alteans as they can

^ all this while infiltrating as many galra fleets as possible + saving planets under galra empire

they personally visit every planet that lotor was in charge of and release them from galra control

they are able to bring back an altean (its romelle) and she talks abt her friend who lives on the balmera and they go to the balmera and its revealed that it was shay’s great grandmother so romelle asks where shay is and shay’s family is like with team voltron of course

so

they take her

obviously team voltron, the BoM and the Rebels r very hesitant to make contact but they decide to try it out

keith refuses to meet, instead he’s on the team that stands guard

reunions !! 

romelle and shay hit it off and hunk makes a dinner much like roselle’s past (allura and coran also hang out and they all vibe)

lance talks to shiro abt everything to do with keith and shiro is like dude do u??? like him?

and lance is like what? no ofc not—oh shit.

and keith ✨overhears ✨

pidge matt and shiro catch up n shit

meanwhile keith is like Hey Lance Uhhhhhh What The Fuck

they end up being like hey since we’re all here and we hate zarkon what if we make a plan to end the galra’s reign Right Now

so they do

and y’all.. it’s hella baller plan

except something is going wrong and in the middle of an attack zarkon is able to get the upper hand 

due to haggar’s magic and lance’s mental and emotional instability, zarkon is able to get in his head

everyone is trying to talk him down but they’re all under a lot of pressure

allura is also conflicted bc she wanted to be black lion bc she wanted to rub it in to zarkon’s face that she was stronger than he and that she could beat him at his own game

but the negativity and instability feeds into zarkon’s power and makes him and haggar stronger as they pull in voltron to finally take over the team and regain their status as the most powerful alien race

hunk realizes this and is like okay can y’all stop being negative? its clearly affecting them in a good way and it makes us an easier target

and pidge is like im literally a child pls i don’t wanna die i just got my family back it can’t end like this

shiro realizes what’s going on and he goes to save them

he uses all his energy, pulling in the positive memories (everything: first learning about space, becoming a teacher, meeting adam, meeting keith, first making team voltron, his friends and family--all of it) to push back zarkon and haggar’s powers and battle once more in the astral realm 

in defeating zarkon, shiro loses his life

afterwards keith enters the ship in a hurry and is like where the fuck is shiro where’s my brother what did you do what happened

and team voltron is like hey man.. we are so so sorry

and keith cries because the last thing he ever said to shiro was mean

lance feels like its all his fault since he was supposed to be a good leader

they talk about separately while hunk pidge and allura discuss

krolia is like keith we, ur family, are here for u

and axca is there and shes like um?? hey?? sry for trying to kill u bro

and he’s like i absolutely do not wanna talk i just lost my closest friend

they talk about it later

axca tells keith abt shiro finishing lotor’s work and abt bringing people back and well.. 

they use the methods to help keith visit shiro in the astral realm

shiro is like oh uh hey i was just having a drink w adam we r happy

and keith is like shiro u fuckhead why would u sacrifice urself

shiro sighs bc cmon keith you KNOW why “remember what i always said? we can’t focus on what went wrong..”

“we’ve got to figure out how to make it right” keith finishes

keith breaks tf down crying and screams apologizing

“i love u shiro. ur a like a big brother to me.”

and shiro is like yeah i know and ilyt but hey. everyone’s safe and happy. im safe and happy. & you deserve to be too. you don’t need me anymore.

so the galra rule is over and everyone goes to their respected planets

romelle and the other alteans as well as some galra babes hang in earth

romelle and shay r in an apartment together and have a garden

allura realizes she may not have been the strongest leader for voltron, and  couldn’t stop zarkon on her own but that physical strength doesn’t define her as a whole

her heart is strong enough to care for everyone, so thats what she does

allura starts running an inn for alteans filled with painted sceneries like altea in case anyone ever needs a reminder of home

when lance reunites with his family its a real tearjerker

rachel finally gets her jacket back and veronica is like So.. Axca 👀

the McClain’s host a huge party for everyone and it’s filled with lots of hugs and loud music and even tho lance was way too tired, he danced all night

he wouldn’t trade his family for the world—genetic and chosen

when hunk reunites with his parents they don’t let him out the house for hours, he tells them all about his new best friend shay as well as hundreds of his favorites stories from space

they are so, so proud of him

hunk spends the next days playing minecraft and animal crossing with pidge, giving their brains a rest from being on hyperdrive for 3 yrs straight

when pidge gets home she finally gets grounded by her mom, only being allowed to leave the house to see her old teammates

(same for matt and her dad)

(her mother cries so hard when they opened the door to the home)

the holt family holds movie nights filled with popcorn, cuddles, and tears

keith moves in with the holt family, and finally accepts that he has a home as well as a family

he often goes on trips with the BoM but mostly just stays on earth

after a Team Voltron sleepover in the altea inn keith and lance decide to get an apartment together and live their lives in love and in peace

everyone gets together once a year in celebration of shiro and the sacrifice he made for them

they use the ship to visit Astral Shiro and once they even met adam

everyone laughs and catches up and just... live their lives

everyone is happy

pls ignore any and all errors lmao

again, just a thought !! maybe i’ll write a fic abt it idk for sure but yeah

feel free to add anything <3

[living-dead-parker]

Princely - IzuOchaTen

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Ochako Uraraka x Tenya Iida

Warnings: none, maybe some cussing, maybe some ooc stuff, strays from bnha and alladin canon but it’s loosely inspired. Also maybe some spelling errors (it’s 3 am for me im sorry yall lol) 

Summary: Requested - Alladin AU in which Izuku is a street scoundrel and he manages to join high society, where he meets Princess Ochako and Prince Tenya.

Word Count: 2.4k

Not my gif!!

Izuku knew that this was a bit insane. When has that ever stopped him, though? No, if anything, the insanity encourages him to do things he knows that deep down he shouldn’t. 

So there he stands, right in front of the palace, vibrant green eyes attempting to analyze the massive estate. Next to him stands the man with the dark-blue hair and glasses that frame his face perfectly. Izuku will not deny how handsome the man is, even if he is competing with him. 

Izuku can’t help but to think back on the moment that caused this silly little competition. 

“Are you sure this will work?” Izuku asks the man that stands before him. The human manifestation of the Dark Shadow that erupted from the lamp he’d rubbed just a few minutes ago. Instead, a man with black hair, deep red eyes, and the aura of a bird stood before him. 

“I’m sure of it,” the man, who Izuku learned was named Fumikage, says. “You look like a prince. Say, what do you plan on doing anyway?” 

Izuku offers the man a precious smile, one that’s wide and makes his eyes close from how intense his smile is. “I’m not sure!” 

Fumikage nods, slightly in disbelief. Many men would take advantage of the opportunity that the man in front of him has. Nonetheless, he’s not going to be the one to tell him what to do. The day goes by with Izuku doing just about anything he can get away with, though it’s all just scouring for food and messing with a couple of people. Nothing too big or bad. However, it’s later that night that he’s being invited to a party at the palace. 

He’d been mistaken -or rather acknowledged as- for a prince from a distant land. Who was he to deny the invitation? So, he gathered himself together and made the journey to the palace. A huge one, at that. He wasn’t too sure what to do with himself towards the beginning of the night. 

He doesn’t know a single person there, though he wasn’t too big on having many friends. Back home, the only friends he had were other street miscreants like him. Shoto and his on-and-off-again friend Kacchan. He also had a pet bunny named Bani. Totally not because he was so uncreative with naming the precious thing. Besides them, he doesn’t really know many people, and he’s very much out of his element here. 

“You’re a prince, Izuku,” he tells himself. “At least that’s what everyone thinks, so play along, idiot!” he continues. He sighs as he continues to talk himself up. “You’re a prince-”

He was caught in a trance. She had put him under her spell without even knowing it. So much so that he could almost block out the dark-haired man standing next to her, talking to her so animatedly. She seemed genuinely interested in the man, smiling and nodding at his onslaught of words. She even responded as if she was truly listening. However, she’d look up and over at the greenette every once in a while and smile at him. Her cheeks would take on a rosy tint that had Izuku melting. 

Before he knew it, without thinking and before he could even stop himself, he found himself walking towards the young woman, the princess as he’d overheard. He marched right over with the confidence of a man who owned the place. To many, it might even look that way. 

The dark-haired man stops speaking when he notices the greenette who’d just joined the pair. He eyes the man up and down, trying to figure out who just interrupted his moment with the princess. A moment he just knows was going so well. How dare he? 

“Princess Ochako,” Izuku speaks up, grabbing hold of the young woman’s hand. He smiles as he curtsies down, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a soft peck to the equally, if not ever softer skin. “I’m Prince Izuku,” he continues, keeping up the facade of confidence. Where it came from? He’s not too sure, but he’s not complaining. “Pleased to meet you.” 

The young princess blushes even deeper. The color could rival that of Fumikage’s eyes. However, she curtsies back respectfully before snatching her hand back, though Izuku took no offense. Instead, he straightens and leans back a bit. 

“I don’t mean to come off too strong or too rude, but I have to say, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he states matter-of-factly. 

Normally, Ochako can point out when someone is being overly nice because they want something from her. After all, that is one of the biggest downsides of being born into royalty. Everyone always wants something from her. Well, except her closest friend and servant, Tsu. 

Nonetheless, she allowed Izuku to remain but not without having her guard up. 

“Izuku, where are you from?” the man beside Princess Ochako asks suddenly, causing Izuku to stammer. How does he respond? He’s not actually a prince, and he didn’t think this through, and why did he do this?

“I’m sorry, I never caught your name,” Izuku blurts, managing to save himself. 

“Prince Tenya, from the Isles.” 

“Prince Tenya, a pleasure to meet you,” Izuku snides. Though, there’s no real bite to it. “Well, I’m from...Bani.” 

Izuku nearly groans. Naming a bunny was too much pressure for him. How was he going to come up with a fake country on the spot? Though, he’s not doing too bad based on how Ochako doesn’t seem to question it. That is until-

“Bani?” Tenya asks. He’s giving Izuku an odd look. An expectant one too.  “I’ve never heard of a place called Bani.” 

“Well, it’s small,” he states, shrugging a little. “Pretty far away too,” Izuku continues. “Not many have heard of us.” 

That answer seemed to be good enough for both Prince Tenya and Princess Ochako. The night seemed to pass rather quickly after that. The three stuck together for most of the night, only ever separating when they all had to socialize with others. However, the three seemed drawn to each other. It wasn’t even that the two young men were gravitating towards the Princess the whole time. More often than not, the two found themselves looking for the other, actively seeking the other out. Something about Izuku, Tenya just could not get enough of. Izuku would say he felt the same, because he did. There was just something about Tenya that drew Izuku in for the same reasons that he was drawn to Ochako. 

Eventually, the night did come to an end, but not before a couple of passive statements were spewed between the two men. Ochako seemed to have enough of the joking rivalry for the night, so she offered a proposal. 

“Come to the palace tomorrow. I might have a solution to all of this.” 

Which brings them to now. Standing outside the palace. Looking up in the direction of the young princess’ chambers. 

The two men look at each other and smirk as Princess Ochako emerges from her room once again, standing on the sturdy balcony connected to her room. There’s a smile on her face, and an energetic aura to her today. Excitement bubbles inside the young woman as she stares the two men down. 

“The first one to reach my room gets to take me out,” she states over the balcony. “Simple as that.” 

“Are you sure we need a silly competition like this?” Iida speaks up, his tone sounding so genuine, but to Izuku, it’s full of feist. He kina likes it if he’s being honest. 

“No, not really,” Ochako states, shrugging her shoulders. “It just makes things more fun. Now,” Ochako continues as she stands up straight. She turns around. “Go.” 

With that, Izuku and Tenya give each other a final look before jetting off into the palace. Giggles escape Ocahko’s lips at the sound of the two hitting the pavement as they run off. Izuku and Tenya split up once past the foyer of the palace, taking their own way towards the young woman’s room. Izuku encounters a hall, and at the end of it, after a sharp turn, is a staircase. He hides behind the corner he stands at and takes a peek. 

At the end of the hall, not too far from the staircase, stand two guards. A blonde one with a black streak in his hair that resembles a lightning bolt. The other is a black-haired man. They’re both talking to each other, ignoring their surroundings. This should be easy, Izuku thinks. 

Looking around him, Izuku notices that there is a chalice set on a table next to him. He smiles, grabbing the chalice and tosses it on the ground, making sure it lands with a loud clunk and rolls down the hall. The two men notice the moving object, gripping their weapons harder in their hands and charge down the hall in Izuku’s direction. When they pass him up, remaining unnoticed, he bolts down the hall and up the stairs. 

Then, he’s in another hall, However, he can’t hide this time. 

Unknown to the Izuku, Tenya is going through the same thing. The palace is symmetrical, so each side really is the same experience. However, Tenya seems to be a bit more diplomatic about his approach. 

“Pardon, I’m looking for Princess Ochako’s room,” he states rather politely. The woman he speaks to is wearing what a maid would traditionally wear. So, he can only assume she’s a maid. 

“Princess Ochako is not allowed any visitors,” the woman speaks matter-of-factly. Her tone is cold and steely. A punch to the gut. “Especially not a possible suitor of sorts,” she continues, eyeing the young man up and down. The woman turns around and begins walking away. When suddenly, he’s blasting past her, running down the way she’s headed. He passes her up, getting chased by her not too long after. 

He reaches another corner and makes a turn. When he does, he notices two things. In the center of the hall stands Princess Ochako, her door open as she leans against the frame dreamily. A giggle escapes her lips once more as she takes in the sights around her. Then, at the end of the hall, standing equally winded and shocked, stands Izuku, looking him up and down as well. 

Then, wordlessly the two began to run towards the door. The two clash, falling to the ground as their bodies collide. The world of pain fading into nonexistence when the sound of Ochako’s laugh fills the open space, sounding like music to their ears. It’s not long after that her laugh fills every pore on their skin, filling them with joy and now they’re laughing with her. 

Laughing gut-busting laughs, the kind that leave you breathless. The kinds that make tears spring from one’s eyes. The kind that make Izuku forget that he doesn’t belong. In fact, he’s never felt like he belonged until now. Now, he feels like this is the only place he wants to be. The only thing he ever wants in life anymore. To laugh with Ochako and Tenya. To share moments like these with them. He wants it all. 

“Get up, you two,” Ochako managed between laughs, leaning forward and holding a hand out to each man. The two men calm down, eyeing her carefully and then eyeing the other just as carefully. As if to test the waters and ask if all of this is truly okay. 

At this point, it was clear no one was going to pick on over the other. Ochako was not going to simply pick between both of the boys and let the other one walk away with nothing. Simply because she wanted to get to know both of them. She wants to know them and experience them. 

The same could be said about Izuku too. He wasn’t going to back down from fighting over Ochako, he wants to get to know her, and he wants to make her fall for him in the same way he’s already falling for her. He wants to have lived a life full of her. But at the same time, he’s found a sort of comfort in Tenya. He’s had a fire lit under his ass, and he really really likes that. He enjoys it a bit too much and he doesn’t want to lose that either. He doesn’t want to have to choose. Even if to some it may seem taboo and straight up wrong. It feels right to Izuku. He wants a life full of Tenya, too.

Tenya is a bit harder to read, but it was still clear nonetheless. He didn’t care that he had to share, because it didn’t feel that way. He’s excited to get to know the princess and he has such high hopes. But Izuku is such an exciting wrench in his plans that he doesn’t even care anymore. Ochako is excitement in the sense of sunshine and happiness. Izuku is excitement in the sense of adventure and mischief. He wants it all. He wants them both. 

“Let’s get inside already,” Ochako continues as the two men reach out to her, picking themselves up with her help. They’re quick to enter her room and they nearly awe at the sight. A large table sits in the center of the room, an elaborate and extravagant looking set up. Full of tea and cake, sweet and savory foods are abundant. 

The three sit at the table, digging into the delicious food and tea, not bothering to show any hint of graciousness or poise. Especially not after the morning they’ve had. Though something about that brings a sense of calm to the trio. They can let loose and be who they want to be. Not who they’re expected to be. 

Ochako really doesn’t want to let go of any of this. 

“Say, Izuku,” Tenya speaks up after a particularly long discussion about their countries. One which Izuku tried to stay out of as much as possible. “You’re not actually a prince, are you?” 

Izuku’s eyes widen, looking between Tenya and Ochako. He notices that neither of them seems upset or even fazed by the revelation. In fact, they find it humorous. 

“No,” he says, defeated. “But I promise I did not crash that party last night,” he continues. “I was actually invited.” 

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Ochako speaks up, laughing a little at the greenette’s expression. “Though, I think this makes everything all the more exciting.” 

[thomaslightwood]

A Kind of Magic

Chapter one: One Vision

A dream of sweet illusion:

A glimpse of hope and unity,

And visions of one sweet union.

(recommend, but not necessary to read/hear the song)

•

In this moment Thomas had one goal and that was to make it to the Devil Tavern. As fast as possible.

It wasn’t because he was running from something but because he needed to be alone. This was the closest place he could think of where he could be alone for now. He knew that James and Matthew were training together in the Institute and Christopher was with Henry doing their new experiment with that ichor. So their room should be empty, right?

When he entered the establishment he barely looked at the people there. He smiled at Polly and nodded at a few other Downworlders but didn’t stop to chat like usual. 

Thomas tramped upstairs to their room, wanting air. He opened some of the old windows and looked at Fleet Street. It was almost lunch. He had to meet with Lucie soon. 

By the Angel, Thomas had to calm down and to put himself together. He couldn’t do anything in his current state. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. 

The problem was one particular person. One person with sharp tongue, fair hair and black eyes. His face was in front of Tom’s sight. This one vision he just couldn’t escape. 

The Carstairs arrival shouldn’t have been be surprising. At all. It was common knowledge that Lucie and Cordelia are gonna be parabatai. He just hadn’t thought about it much. Because thinking about the Carstairs means thinking about Alastair. And this always reminded him of Paris. And how confused he was after that. Thomas still was confused. Just less then before. 

Love is confusing, Thomas thought. And strange. Like some spell on you which makes you dizzy. Some dark magic that stretches your heart with killing hope. 

Yes, this had to be. A kind of magic. 

• 

When Thomas finally arrived at the Institute Lucie was already waiting for him in the emty ballroom. Many books and papers were in the big table which they usually used when they’re here.

“Sorry for being late” said Thomas guiltily. 

Lucie just smiled at him, clearly in a good mood. 

“Don’t worry. I’m not in hurry.”

Thomas pulled a chair to sit, facing Lucie. “You said you need help with a translation?”

“That’s right,” she said excitedly. Lucie bring in front of him few papers which he knew were drafts of Lucie’s tales. She liked this paper and used it to write on.

“So, you know about the Carstairs arrival, right?”

Thomas managed to nod. His heart was beating fast. “Anna told me about an hour ago.”

Lucie smiled happily. “I heard about it today as well. And wanted to do something special for Daisy.” Lucie took a few other papers and two books. Dictionaries, Thomas realized. “And I came up with this: to translate The Beautiful Cordelia in Persian.” 

Thomas raised eyebrows, distracted from his thoughts of Alastair for a moment.

“Luce, you have been writing it since you were twelve. To translate it all… it would take weeks. Months.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Four years writing. I know there no chance to do it before their arrival. But I thought it may be ready for our parabatai ceremony.” Lucie looked at all the paper on the table and smiled hopefully at him. “However, that’s why I wanted your help, Tom. With you beside me it would be so much faster! So… Will you help?” asked Lucie, pleading.

“Of course Luce!” said Thomas without hesitation. “No need to ask. But do you know when will be your ceremony?”

“No idea” said Lucie honestly. “But I believe we can choose the date. I will convince Cordelia to be in a time after we are ready.”

“You thought about everything, didn’t you?” Thomas smiled.

Lucie laughed.

“We are talking about my parabatai after all. Now, let’s begin!”

“Let’s begin,” Thomas repeated. There were a lot of work to be done. 

•

When Thomas entered the Devil Tavern for the second time this day it was almost evening. 

He was with Matthew and James. Together they left the Institute, already in gear, ready to hunt demons. They had to take Christopher before the fall of the night to start patrolling London’s streets.

“I just have to pick up some knifes I forgot last time,” James said. “It won’t take long.”

“Jamie loves his knifes too much sometimes” sighed his parabatai.

So now Matthew and Thomas were waiting for him. Matthew ordered one drink for himself but Thomas didn’t want. He prefered his mind to be clear before a battle.

His charming friend chatted with Polly who was already laughing.

Thomas asked  himself if he should take something to eat. He hadn’t eat anything since he met with Lucie. Maybe this could stop his thoughts to wander around Alastair Carstairs. 

“Hey Tom,” Matthew called him. Thomas didn’t realize when his conversion with Polly ended. “Isn’t Christopher the one who usually isn’t here?” he asked with a smile.

Thomas tried to smile back but Matthew was right. His mind was elsewhere.

“I’m fine,” he said. He hoped he was not a liar.

Matthew drank from the drink a little, still looking at Thomas.

“Is there someone special?” he asked, curious.

Thomas didn’t answer. 

“Is it that werewolf girl who was running after you for while?”

���By the Angel, Matthew,” he sighed.

Thomas still felt a little embarrassed thinking about the whole situation. Her name was Bella. She was chasing him for a few weeks and was absolutely shameless. In the end Thomas forced himself to tell her that he liked another person and didn’t want her hurt, which was true. Bella was very disappointed but said she’s fine. Asked about this person though but Thomas refused to tell her anything. It felt too private to share it with someone else.

He thought about Alastair again. For long, maybe longer then Thomas wanted to admit, the Persian was the only one he thought about this way. 

There was thousand little things about him. Flash of light in his eyes. The sweet illusion of his hands. His voice. His everything. One heart. One soul. He was the glimpse of the brightest dream in the dark rains.

Thomas felt breathless. The love wasn’t what he ever imagined it would be. There’s no black and no white. It was all the colors at one.

“Thomas!”

He startled and looked at Matthew. He forgot that his friend was still there.

“There is definitely someone,” Matthew said, already grinning. 

“Are you hungry?” Thomas asked, desperate to change the topic.

Polly came near them, rising an eyebrow. 

“Do I know this person? Is it a lady or a gentleman?” the blond kept asking, ignoring Tom’s question.

Thomas looked at Polly, trying not to blush.

“Just gimme fried chicken,” he murmured.

•

A/N: one big shout out for Teddy (@fair-y-child) who was so kind to edit my chapters! Thank you Teo for your help, it wouldn’t be the same without you ❤️

People who wanted to be tagged (thanks to every one of you, I didn’t expect so many people to ask for it): @christopher-lightwood-my-heart @panicatwallmaria @thomaslightwoodx @thomastair-paris @lavanyalol @lucexherondale @tom-carstairs @im-gay-for-cordelia-carstairs @vintage-morning-wine @ab-cedario @daisycordelia @crying-is-your-latest-fashion @a-very-gay-spider (btw I will keep tagging you if you don’t tell me to stop)

[theteenagemaze]

26th august 2021

today i came home from spending the night at my sisters house after a heated fight with my parents over seemingly nothing. during the fight my phone, door handle, tv remote and mental stability were destroyed. i hope to get a replacement phone in the near future since we claimed it on insurance by lying are saying it fell of the back of a car and was ran over. i also pleaded that we moved from the out back into my town since for the last 7 years of my childhood I've been locked in this 2 and a half acre block with a $40 dollar cab fee to freedom. although each time we fight I bring up my feeling on our living situation and how i feel cut off for my total of too friend but its mostly ignored since the realization of a new hole in the walls is a bigger problem then my worthless feelings.

schools going shit since a girl whos mother passed away gets treated like she’ll soon die too. the best guitar in music class. hers. the only available study room in the library. hers. the first to try a science experiment. hers. the solos in the school choir. hers. the lead role in the school musical. hers. i cant even name something that isn't hers. everyone eats out of her hand like an obedient ex-army dog that lives to protect their master. on the other hand the troubled girls from another school get given so many chances to succeed alas they flush them down the toilet like a fresh shit they plucked from their own self image. they can beat, threaten, verbally assault, stalk, and spit on people and they'll blame it on their home life. if its their home life that's the problem then fix that instead of throwing all of this under the carpet. another thing is this one sooky bitch whos father owns the restaurant that me and many other people i know work at. she thinks she suicidal when she's been sheltered her whole life and has never been exposed to drugs, alcohol, vapes, sexual assault, self harm, domestic abuse or anything else but somehow she's suicide and ended up at a $300 therapy session and never went back because “they asked too many questions” like is that not the whole fucking point you dumb bitch. all she does is act depressed and then takes it out on me at work witch is basically work place abuse but i cant fucking report her because what are they gunna do huh? fire her? they fucking cant she's the bosses daughter and might i add the youngest of three. 

on the plus side i've recently met two wonderful girls and re-connected within old male friend after he started his transition and they've really helped. edie who lives in my town is the biggest sweet heart i know, when my latest fright happened with my parents happened her first question wasn't. “your just lying for attention.” or something along the lines of “aha who one!”. it was “omg ore you safe? are you ok do you need someone to stay with my boyfriend and i can pick you up??”. and honestly that lit a small hopefully fire inside me. a fire that comforted me unlike no other. my other new friend, zoe. she live in outback brisbane witch is quite far away from where i live. she's 16 and smokes often. she's currently looking after two hairless cats that we refer to as “the testis”. they smell fear... shes lovely and we could talk for hours if he phone didn't die ever 5 minutes. i'm honestly tempted to mail her a charges since hers is held together by duct tape after she tried to hot-wire it to charge a vape. she has a great sense of humor that aligns with mine perfectly. we often joke about walking to each others home saying “be at your in 5 aha”. and last but not least marshal the only decent one of the many friends i've had. he's kind and funny and makes a lot of spelling mistakes when we text. well i cant really judge him on that myself whilst im typing this its hard to keep up with the red underlined words i keep correcting. but anyway back to marshal. we originally met at a dance group when he was pre-transition. back then he thought i was homophobic and hated him when i was actually deep in the closet and thought he was the coolest person ever and a matter of fact i still do! to be honest i thought i was bi but these days bi is such a thrown around term and really doesn't feel right. i only thought i was bi because i was attracted to some men but i could never imagine anything other then just looking at them, basically nothing sexual. but when i look at another woman it just feels. right. my parents, siblings, concealers, friends and even teachers tell me to settle down and find a nice boy to live with or to go to all the footy games and try to catch a partner. and during those moments i just want to scream “IM A LESBIAN I DONT LIKE MEN I NEVER WILL SHUTUP” but i know im to pussy so i plan to move out of state with whomever my closest friend is at the time when i turn 17 and never look back.

but anyway thanks for listening.

senscierly, maze

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 17: The Sound Of Friction

“Where should I put this?” I ask Sebastian. 

During the ride back to the mansion, I explained the ordeal at the coffee house and told him how Arthur had helped me. He was less than impressed, promptly declaring that he would find another vendor of the product that does not display such unacceptable behaviour. I told him how I had met Shakespeare and been invited to a ball, and he said he would let le Comte know so he can get me a proper evening dress.

Upon arriving, I started helped him organize the shopping, which I am still doing now. This sack of flour is the last of it, it seems.

“Up there in the pantry. Make sure it’s high so mice can’t get to it,” he instructs. When I open the cabinet door, he immediately corrects me. “No, no, the other one! To your left.”

I have to climb on a stool in order to push the heavy sack into the shelf. Just when I am about to close the cabinet, I spot a jar of cocoa powder and grab it before jumping down onto the floor.

“I’m making hot chocolate,” I announce. “Would you like some, Seb?”

“No thanks, I still have a lot to do.” He hands me a small pot as I gather the rest of the ingredients, which is easy now that I am better acquainted with their location in the kitchen. “You know who would love some? Mozart. He practically lives off that stuff,” he says. “Now that I think of it, it’s almost his feeding time. Would you mind taking him a bottle of blanc with it?”

“Gotcha.” I haven’t seen the musician since I arrived here, though I know he has not left the mansion because I keep hearing him play. I wouldn’t mind seeing the famous music room for myself, especially given the fact that I have nothing else to do for the rest of the day.

Sebastian leaves to do laundry, leaving me to prepare the hot chocolate. When I finish, I pour it into two cups, and put them both on a tray, along with a bottle of blanc I find on a shelf.

I knock on the door to the music room only for it to open upon my touch. I could swear I just heard Mozart playing as I walked down the hallway, but now he is nowhere to be seen. Taken over by curiosity, I set down the tray on a small side table and slowly approach the piano. It is the most beautiful instrument I have ever seen, pure white and pristine like its owner. Before I know it, my hands are running along its smooth edge. I can’t help but sit on the bench when I spot the music sheet resting above the keys, and with unsure hands, I try to play what little I can decipher.

“Do not touch my piano!” Mozart must have heard me from wherever he was, because barely a few seconds after I played the first note, he barges into the room, frantically barking for me to step away from his precious instrument.

“I’m sorry, you were gone, and-”

“I don’t care,” he rudely interrupts me. “I do not want your filthy hands anywhere near any of my instruments, or my sheet music, or anything at all, for that matter. I knew you would be a bother the moment you stepped into this house.”

My eyes narrow in indignation. Had he been nicer, I would have apologized and vowed to never touch his belongings again, but he’s acting like I chose to be here. Like my sole purpose in life is to be a nuisance. Naturally, this just makes me want to annoy him more, and I know just the way to do it.

I turn back to the piano and, before he has time to protest again, my hands begin gliding over the keys, forming a melody he will surely recognize as his own. The tempo is slightly off, and my fingers slip on a few notes due to the lack of practice, but this is undoubtedly an arrangement of Leck mich im Arcsh. I taught myself how to play this canon in B-flat major when I was a teenager, for no other reason than the fact that I found it hilarious when I learned of it existence. Thank you for the laughs, Mozart, but you can kiss my ass.

To my surprise, he has grown quiet. I stop playing and glance at him over my shoulder only to see a puzzled expression on his face, accompanied by what looks like the faintest hint of a smile. Am I hallucinating right now?

“I am surprised you know that,” he states. His voice is devoid of all trace of emotion, which is quickly disappearing from his face as well. I simply shrug.

“Serves you right for being a mean, stuck up prick,” I say nonchalantly as I get up. “Anyway, I brought you this. You’re welcome.” I reach for the bottle of blanc I was meant to deliver and hand it to him.

“Blanc? No way I am drinking this garbage,” he exclaims, disgusted. Seriously, somebody needs to teach this man some manners.

“Okay, then.” I pick up the tray with the hot drinks still on it and make my way to the door. “No chocolate for you.”

Mozart’s eyes widen at the mention of the sweet drink, and I watch him reluctantly open the bottle and take a sip. The childish resignation on his face makes me laugh, but as promised, I turn around and return the tray to the table, before grabbing my own cup and sitting on the single armchair next to it. He quickly downs the blanc and exchanges the empty bottle for the hot chocolate.

“It’s... good,” he says after trying it. I suppose that is the closest I’ll get to a “thank you” from him.

“Uh-huh. Sebastian told me you liked it, so I made you some, because I am a nice person who doesn’t deserve to be yelled at like that.” I raise my eyebrows and proceed to punctuate that statement by sipping my chocolate, but I almost spit it out when he speaks again.

“Your playing was awful.”

He is not exactly wrong, but I casually give him the middle finger. I doubt he knows what it means, because he briefly looks at me and completely ignores the obscene gesture before sitting on the piano bench. He begins playing the exact same melody, and I am not sure if it’s his way of telling me to fuck off of if he just wants to show me how it’s done properly. Either way, he makes it sound incredibly and ironically beautiful, and I soon find myself enjoying just watching him play.

Halfway through the canon, he seamlessly changes to a new melody, one I have never heard before. It could be one of his lesser known pieces, but seeing the neatly stacked papers on every flat surface I am inclined to believe it is a new composition. 

I relax into the plush comfort of the armchair and close my eyes. I think Mozart has already forgotten I am there, but I don’t mind in the slightest. I enjoy listening to his music, and I am happy to find out my presence does not bother him as much as he led me to believe.

Eventually, someone knocks on the door. It is hard to tell how long I’ve stayed in this position, but it has been a good while since I finished my chocolate. Mozart stops playing and gets up to open.

“Sorry to interrupt, Wolf, but-” Jean’s eye lands on me, lounging in the back. I raise my eyebrow at the nickname, but I guess it makes sense that those two are friends. I can picture them being quietly judgemental together. “Anaïs. You’re here too,” he softly states, surprised. I smile and give him a little wave. “Le Comte wants to see you both.”

Mozart and I look at each other. I assume he is as intrigued as I am, although his face is completely expressionless, unlike my own. He silently nods and exits the room with Jean. I follow, and we part ways with the soldier to walk to le Comte’s study.

The door is open when we arrive, clearly awaiting us. I sit across from le Comte’s desk, and Mozart stands beside me. The nobleman acknowledges us with a solemn nod and a smile full of old world charm.

“Anaïs,” he finally speaks. “Sebastian tells me you have been invited to a ball, correct?” I nod. I wonder what this has to do with Mozart. “It is my understanding that Mozart here will be performing at the same event. He needs a suitable companion for someone of his status, and I think you would be perfect for the occasion, ma chérie.”

Well, that explains it. And I do not like it one bit. Mozart and I exchange another look, his face mirroring the indignation on my own this time. He opens his mouth to protest, but is cut off by le Comte.

“You both need companions for the same ball, yes? This is the best solution to this problem. Any reasonable adult could see that.” His tone is almost fatherly, full of gentle authority. Damnit, I can’t say no to him. I sigh, defeated by the way he looks at me.

“Ugh, fine! I’ll do it,” I give in. “But only because I intended to go anyway.”

Mozart takes longer to answer, but eventually cracks too.

“Remember our deal, Comte. You owe me. And you,” he turns to me, “you better learn how to dance properly. I will not be humiliated by my companion’s lack of etiquette.” There it is. That stupid mean attitude of his. I was beginning to wonder where it went.

I roll my eyes, and he purposefully storms off. With Mozart gone, I turn to le Comte, and give him a pleading look that practically says “why are you doing this to me?”.

“Well, that was disappointing. And terribly awkward, you know he is not the easiest person to get along with.”

“Forgive me, ma chérie,” le Comte laughs. “You two arrived together. Were you having an argument?”

“Something like that,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I touched his piano.”

“Oh my. I am glad to see you made it out alive and well, in that case,” he jokes. “You know, I had to bribe him with a new bench just for him to agree to perform. The host of the ball is a dear friend of mine, and he has been begging me to invite Mozart on his behalf ever since he heard one of his new pieces. Of course, he knows him by a different name.”

That explains the mention of their deal. In the few days I have been here, I have not seen Mozart so much as step outside of his room, so it does not surprise me that he needs to be bribed in order to leave the mansion at all.

“Speaking of friends,” I change the topic, “Sebastian must have told you I met Shakespeare today. Did something happen between you two?”

“Well...” le Comte begins, leaning back into his chair. “We have our differences, but I am his sire, after all, and I care for him dearly. He simply decided he did not wish to live here anymore, so now he has his own house in the outskirts of Paris,” he explains. “Vincent visits him quite frequently. They are good friends.”

Of course Vincent would be the one to befriend the playwright. Much like the sunflowers he paints, that man is the physical embodiment of a ray of sunshine.

“Back to the ball, however... I must get you a gown fit for a princess, ma chérie. Do you have a particular style in mind?” he inquires.

“I trust your good taste, Comte,” I shake my head with a smile, but I perk up as something occurs to me. “Actually, there is something...” I unbutton the cuff of my sleeve and roll it up as far as I can, exposing the tattoos that litter my pale skin. “Anything that can cover these. They go pretty high up, so sleeves and gloves, maybe? I am not very familiar with the evening fashion of this time.”

Le Comte’s eyes widen at the sight of the dark ink on my arm, reminding me that he had not seen them until now, not to this extent. To be fair, the sleeves of my chemise covered most of them when he assisted with tying my corset.

“Gloves will do just perfectly,” he declares. “The very long ones are quite the trend with the ladies, nowadays.” 

“Great.” I roll my sleeve back down, and catch him staring intently. The way he watches me is reverent, rather than uncomfortable. I can tell he is simply admiring the tattoos, but he refrains from voicing his curiosity, I presume to avoid being indiscrete. “Thank you, Comte.”

“It is my pleasure, ma chérie,” he smiles.

Before I leave, I stop to look at the large hourglass in the corner. The pile of sand at the bottom has become the slightest bit taller since I arrived, but most of it remains the same, what looks like an eternity resting on the top portion of the glass, barely trickling down.