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shedreamsofstars · 3 years

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our fingers dancing when they meet

five times their hands didn’t touch and one time they did

Kyo’s hand skated along the top of the metal railing as he walked down the school steps. It was late, and despite the balmy weather, the metal was stone cold to the touch. He glanced around him absently, more out of habit than actually looking for anyone, but his heart skipped a beat as he spotted a familiar figure standing below.

Tohru stood with one hand against the railing, her long hair floating breezily in the wind. Her ribbons flitted back and forth as she dug through her bag, searching for something he had no hope of making out from his distance.

She hadn’t noticed him yet.

That wasn’t too much of a surprise to him, especially when he considered how she spent most of her days happily oblivious to her surroundings. It was a wonder she had made it through another day unharmed.

His eyes were drawn to her fingers, clinging to the same railing his own hand rested against, and his body stalled at the only natural thought in his mind.

If he kept his hand on the rail as he approached, it would eventually end up alongside hers.

Kyo could almost imagine the warmth of her fingers as they touched his, could almost see her panic as she realised what had happened, could almost feel her pull back with a hundred apologies on her lips.

He considered the idea for a moment.

It would be so easy to play it off as an accident, his hand sliding into hers in a purely distracted state, his fingers curling against hers in involuntary attempt to fight off the cold.

He blinked hard.

He took a deep breath.

He shoved both hands into the pockets of his trousers and carried on walking.

Casually jumping the last few steps, Kyo landed beside Tohru, who true to form, startled at his sudden appearance. “Hey,” he said gently, attempting to offset his brusque entrance.

“Kyo-kun,” she called back happily as she straightened up, her hands fluttering behind her back as she gave up on whatever she was searching for. “Are you ready to go home now?”

Kyo frowned, something strange and warm blooming in his chest. “You were … waiting for me?”

“Of course. Yuki already went on ahead, but I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Tohru’s eyes were bright and brown and so plain to read as she smiled up at him. Kyo’s fingers twitched in his pocket. He twisted them into a fist as something akin to regret simmered at the base of his throat.

“Thanks,” he said, doing his best to ignore it. “You didn’t have to stay y’know.”

Tohru shook her head lightly. “You’re so silly. Of course I did,” she said, her smile widening ever so slightly.

Kyo was quiet a moment, transfixed. Was there anything that smile couldn’t fix, he wondered.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, deliberately knocking against her shoulder as he passed, hands still firmly placed in his pockets. He took a few steps before slowing his pace, waiting for her to catch up to him with that same bright smile on her face.

ii.

“Having bigger hands doesn’t mean you’re stronger,” Yuki grumbled half-heartedly, his face hidden behind a textbook.

“It does too,” Kyo said stubbornly, his hand slamming down onto the table between the two of them. The teacups clattered at the impact as the red-headed boy turned his attention to the only other person in the room. “Right, Tohru?”

Tohru sat on the edge of the table with her homework spread out before her, her pencil stuck mid-air as both boy’s attention fell to her. Her gaze bounced between the two of them, her nerves frazzling by the second at the untamed energy simmering in the air.

Yuki was the first to speak.

He let out a reserved sigh, his mop of grey hair and piercing eyes appearing in full as he lowered the book. “Miss Honda, you don’t have to answer his ridiculous question.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Kyo countered defensively. “My hands are obviously bigger than Tohru’s and I’m clearly stronger than her too. So why don’t you just hold up your hand you damned rat, so I can prove I’m stronger than you too!”

Yuki raised his brows warily, his expression somewhere between serene and disinterested.

“It doesn’t make any difference if my, or even Miss Honda’s, hands are bigger or smaller than yours. We’re both stronger than you where it counts.”

Kyo leaned into the table, flexing his arm muscles as he glared at Yuki. “Oh yeah, and where’s that you stupid rat?”

As much as Tohru would have loved to hear Yuki’s reasoning, Kyo’s response or even just attempt to cool down the argument that was brewing in the air, her mind found itself fixated on one thing and one thing only.

My hands are bigger than Tohru’s

Her brows crinkled into a small frown as she stared at Kyo’s hand spread against the dark grain of the wood table. How could he possibly know that?

From what she remembered, the two of them had pretty similarly sized hands. Sure he had grown taller since they’d first met, but she hadn’t paid any particular attention to his hands.

Perhaps she ought to have, she wondered.

Tohru wanted to test his words against the truth, and for a brief moment the thought of asking him flickered in the back of her mind.

The image of him pressing his palm flat against hers seemed so real that she found herself holding her breath in anticipation. She wondered how his orange eyes would look when they bounced along the tips of their fingers to measure the distance between them.

Curious?

Affectionate?

Tender?

Her head tipped involuntarily to the side, shaking her free of her reverie.

“Huh … what … happened?” she said, stumbling over the words as she finally focused enough to see Kyo and Yuki looking at her with matching looks of concern.

It took her a disoriented moment to realise it was because someone had knocked her gently. It took another for her to realise it was Kyo and that those same orange eyes she had been imagining were now burning right beside her.

“Are you okay Miss Honda?”

She heard Yuki, but his words didn’t really register through the tendrils of her muddled thoughts. All she knew was a warm burnt umber and the feel of fingertips pressed against her own.

Kyo leaned in towards her with a concerned frown. “You were gawking at the table for ages,” he put bluntly, diving for the ground with a growl as Yuki sent a book flying at his face.

“What he means Miss Honda, is that you got lost in your head there for a moment. You must have had some pretty interesting thoughts.”

Tohru blushed wildly, trying to forget the images she’d conjured up in her mind. But one look at Kyo as he sat up with that flame eyed gaze of his had them flickering on the fringes of her vision.

She rushed to her feet, feeling completely hot and bothered. “I’m fine,” she squeaked, attempting to look anywhere but at the two boys who she knew were watching her with worried gazes.

“I …” she started, searching for any excuse to leave. “It’s so late! I need to get started on dinner.” And with that, Tohru made a beeline for the empty kitchen.

It would be a good long while before the rosy hue on her cheeks disappeared, and a good while longer until she could remember her daydream without blushing all over again.

iii.

Kyo stood in the doorway with a glass of water in his hand, craning into the room with an air of curiosity. He had only meant to pass through on his way to grab a drink, but the sight of Tohru doing – whatever the heck that was – gave him pause.

“What are you doing?”

Tohru glanced up at him, the look of concentration on her face melting into a welcoming smile. “Oh, this?” she said, gesturing to the small pink bottle on the table. “I still had some of mum’s nail polish and thought it would be fun to put it on.”

Kyo stepped fully into the room, eyeing up the bottle on the table with open mistrust. “Is that stuff safe?” he asked, the smell of chemicals strong in the air. His hands involuntarily tightened on his glass.

“Of course, silly. And it’s really pretty too, look,” Tohru said as she held up her left hand, wiggling her fingers playfully.

Kyo idly glanced at the pale pink that decorated her fingers. Even he had to admit that it did look pretty.

“Okay, if you say so,” he said gently, turning to leave.

“Oh, actually Kyo-kun,” she called after him, knocking her knee against the table in her hurry. Kyo glanced back at her over his shoulder. “Are you busy right now?”

He swallowed the urge to say whatever would get him out of the situation, a habit he’d been trying to work on kicking. “Not really,” he said, turning back around to face her.

“If it’s not too much bother, could you paint my other hand for me?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with a guarded hope. “I’m not that good at applying it with my left hand.”

“Oh,” Kyo said, a little stunned at her request. Painting Tohru’s nails seemed like it required a steady hand, and he wasn’t exactly known for being … delicate. Still, before he knew what he was doing Kyo was shuffling towards the table.

He placed his cup of water down, biting back a smile as Tohru expertly slid a coaster under it before it could touch the table. He picked up the bottle, twisting the lid off and pulling out the brush.

“Thank you,” Tohru said brightly, placing her right hand on the table and spreading her fingers across its wooden surface.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he warned warily, not fully trusting himself to be able to do a good job. As carefully as he could, he lifted the brush and applied the polish to her bare nails, his hands moving slow and cautious.

Weirdly enough, it really did feel like painting. Kyo wasn’t much for art - though he did like to make things with his hands - but he found that the repetitive motions were strangely soothing as he worked methodically along each nail.

As great care as he took to try and keep the polish from her skin, he took even greater care to keep himself from touching her – a thing every sane part of him screamed to do.

Or, every insane part rather.

It was hard to do with their hands in such close proximity, but Kyo managed it well enough despite his desire to do otherwise. A small while later, he found himself placing the capped bottle back down on the table with a glassy thunk.

He had rushed a little towards the end, nerves starting to get the better of him, but as Tohru lifted her hand to blow against the wet polish she seemed happy enough with the outcome.

“Thank you,” she said softly, examining the plain pink on her nails like it was some famous masterpiece or something of the like. He wanted to grab a hold of that hand, to feel her soft skin against his own calloused palm, all under the guise of examining his work.

“You’re welcome,” he said, standing up quickly and heading for the door before he could change his mind. “See ya.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Tohru open her mouth as if to say something, but Kyo kept walking. He was already in the corridor before she could even have a chance to speak and he didn’t stop until he reached his own room.

He pushed thoughts of Tohru from his mind as he dropped onto his futon. It would lead to nothing after all, so he resolved to do nothing about it.

His glass of water stood forgotten on the table beside that bottle of pink polish.

iv.

Tohru’s elbows pressed almost painfully into the counter as she leaned against it, but she barely even noticed. Her gaze was fixed on the window, or more specifically, at the bright sun that she could see rising just beyond it.

The near silent bubble of the rice cooker lulled her into a state of calm in the dusky dawn light, spreading through the kitchen like a warm mist. Her thoughts were peacefully empty as she breathed in deeply.

She spent several minutes that way, gazing out at the slowly waking world illuminated in a beautiful golden glow that would die down as the sun rose fully. She didn’t look away until the sound of soft footsteps shuffling down the stairs drew her gaze.

A ready smile sprang to her lips as she spotted a shock of orange through the doorway. “Good morning, Kyo-kun,” she beamed.

The boy padded into the kitchen, glancing blearily in her direction. “Hey, you,” he said, voice still deep from slumber. The timbre rumbled through her and Tohru found herself suddenly standing up straighter.

Kyo rubbed at his eyes, attempting to chase away the last clutches of sleep. “Uh, Tohru,” he said, glancing around him as if searching for something. “You haven’t seen my phone anywhere, have you? I thought I left it in here last night.”

Tohru squinted in thought, knowing she’d seen it somewhere. “Oh. It’s right …” she said, swivelling around and biting her lip as she reached beside the fruit bowl. “Here,” she finished, holding it up proudly in the palm of her hand.

“Thanks,” Kyo murmured. His eyes lingered on it sitting in her hand, but he made no move to take it off of her. Tohru held it out anyway, wondering what was stopping him before realising that he was watching her a little more closely than normal.

Her heart thudded in her throat as she saw that indecipherable look in his eyes, swallowing nervously as she forced herself to look away. She turned her attention back to the window, realising with a start that the dawn’s golden glow had faded without her realising.

The sky was fully clear and a beautiful violet blue, but instead of seeing the beauty in front of her eyes, all she could do was anticipate the brush of Kyo’s fingertips against her skin, wait for the gentle sparks of his touch to flit across her palm.

But the feeling never came.

She felt the weight disappear from her hand, but when she turned to Kyo she found that he was no longer beside her. He was across the kitchen, standing beside an open fridge. He held a carton of milk in one hand and his phone in the other as he frowned at the boxes of leftovers.

Tohru startled as the rice cooker dinged loudly behind her. “I’m making rice and salmon for breakfast,” she announced hurriedly as Kyo glanced at her over his shoulder. As if the sound wouldn’t have already alerted him. “It’s almost ready,” she added quietly, trying her best to keep her voice casual.

“Okay,” he said, placing the box of leftover fish on the counter for her before turning to leave, the carton of milk still clutched in his hands. “I’ll go wake the others up.”

Tohru sighed at his retreating form as he left the kitchen, her heart heavy with an emotion she couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t regret, at least not entirely, although she was sure it definitely had something to do with the way she felt.

She tried to ignore it, but even as she distractedly plated the food, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering what had made Kyo be so careful around her. So careful that he refused to touch her in the slightest.

It wasn’t the curse; she knew that much at least.

But then, what was it about her that repulsed him so much? She bit the inside of her cheek as she took the plates to the table, the thought haunting her for the rest of the day.

Kyo entered Tohru’s room cautiously.

He had permission to be there, obviously – he wouldn’t have dared walk in otherwise – but it still felt weird to be there when she wasn’t. He glanced around to take in the pristine room, tidy and organised just as he knew it would be.

He spotted her zodiac figurines sitting on a shelf across her bed, his lips quirking at the final cat she’d crafted herself to make sure he didn’t feel left out. He walked over to it, marking the small imperfections in her sculpting and appreciating it even more for it.

Turning back around, he reminded himself that he was here for an actual reason. Tohru, Yuki, Momiji and himself had been halfway to the mall when she’d realised she’d forgotten her purse at home.

She’d been working most of the week, and since Hana and Uotani were already waiting for her, he’d offered to come back instead of making her waste more of her time. It had been easy to play it off as needing some time away from Momiji and his antics, but Yuki had given Kyo a look he hadn’t liked in the slightest.

His grey eyes were so light and piercing that they almost seemed to pull some unknown truth to the forefront of his mind. He hadn’t been sure what the boy had been searching for, but it definitely made him uncomfortable.

Kyo was glad to be away from him.

Now, where had Tohru said her purse was again? The red headed boy frowned as he tried to remember something that wasn’t the quiet joy on her face when he said he’d go back for her.

In all honesty, his brain had been a little preoccupied with shutting down his own unwanted thoughts of her that he’d barely had any energy left to listen to the rest of her request. He remembered her saying something about the bed, so decided to start there.

He scanned the perfectly smoothed duvet for any signs of her brown purse, but nothing. He did notice a slight dip on the far pillow though and followed it. He found the object of his search on the floor beside it, clearly having slipped off at some point, and lifted it off the ground.

He ran his fingers over the worn leather, wondering how many times Tohru had done the exact same thing. It was a little weird he knew that but, holding something so precious to her, he could almost pretend he was holding her.

He was much too spinelessness to do that of course, the past few weeks of avoiding her as much as he could had been enough to show him that. He’d spent many nights awake during the small hours of the night, staring at the ceiling and wondering if she had noticed his reluctance around her.

She must have he’d deduced eventually – he wasn’t exactly known for his subtlety after all.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to touch her and hold her hand. In fact, he wanted it so much that the thought scared him more than just a little bit. He knew where his life was headed, a captive future laid out for him since birth, and that alone should have stopped his thoughts of her dead in their tracks.

But they only rebelled harder, persistent in their desire to know her.

He released a soft exhalation filled with unbridled wanting as he held her purse a little tighter. This at least he could hold without worry or false expectations. It wasn’t her, but it was the closest he felt he could get.

At least for now.

He kept a gentle grip on the purse the whole way down the steps that led away from Shigure’s house until he reached the mall where the others were waiting for him. He tossed it gently in Tohru’s direction, and though she stumbled and flailed, she managed to catch it with words of gratitude falling from her lips.

Kyo waved them away as he turned to the others, regretting his decision instantly as he caught sight of Yuki, that same look in his gaze that he had thought he’d evaded earlier. “Stop it,” the other boy said plainly. “Your cowardice will hurt her more than anything else ever could.”

The others had already begun to move on, leaving the two of them alone.

“What are you talking about?” Kyo grumbled, faking irritation to hide the fact that he understood Yuki perfectly. And that he was right.

“You’re going to have to decide what you want at some point. Make the right choice for once,” Yuki said cryptically, brushing past Kyo without waiting for a response.

Anger simmered within Kyo, but not for Yuki or even the truths he spoke. No, his anger was wholly for himself and himself alone. He knew he was hurting Tohru, he’d seen as much in her eyes every time he took the pains to avoid her outstretched hands, and yet he kept doing it anyway.

How much longer would he keep playing at this and pretending that he didn’t want to touch her every time she was near? Kyo turned to follow after the others, reluctant to face that question, let alone all the complications that would follow.

He still felt the ghostly feel of her purse on his palm, reminding him that he’d have to decide soon enough. But he already knew what his answer would be.

vi.

It was a rare movie night when Tohru found herself sat on the floor sandwiched between Yuki and Kyo. Momiji lay sprawled out on the floor in front of them, his wide eyes glued to the television screen.

They’d ended up choosing one of the several movies the younger Sohma had brought along with him, the only stipulation being that it wasn’t scary. Nobody wanted a repeat of the haunted house incident, and as it stood, Tohru wasn’t sure her head would ever fully recover from that day.

Despite her initial excitement at spending the evening relaxing with her friends, Tohru found that she had no idea what was happening in the movie. From the moment Yuki had pressed play, or perhaps even before, her mind had been occupied by another thing entirely – namely, Kyo.

He sat right beside her, shoulder almost brushing against hers with one leg pulled up so he could lean back a little. He was glaring at the screen in annoyance, from being forced to watch the movie or because he was confused by it, Tohru couldn’t be sure.

What she was sure of was the fact that his hand was resting on the ground, just inches away from her own. If she moved hers just so she could tangle their fingers.

Even though she knew he probably wouldn’t want her to, Tohru couldn’t help but want to feel that he was there. If he didn’t react, then at least she could just pretend that she was trying to get comfortable and hadn’t noticed – although she wasn’t sure she’d actually be able to convince anyone.

With a soft breath and a burst of courage she wasn’t aware she had she slid her hand a little closer to his.

Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she felt more than saw his eyes drift towards her as he noticed the slight movement. She dared a quick side glance only to find that he was frowning at the ground where her hand rested.

She curled her fingers inwards instinctively, wondering if she should pull back when Kyo’s own movement caught her attention.

His hand lifted into the air and covered his mouth in a disinterested yawn and Tohru felt cold disappointment wash over her as she realised her attempts had been futile. The emotion must have unintentionally crossed her face because Kyo’s lips twitched in amusement.

It took her a moment to realise that she was being weird and staring at him and she quickly dragged her gaze down to her hand instead, ready to pull it onto her lap and forget the last few minutes.

But before she could, Kyo’s hand came down on top of hers, warm and firm. She bit back the nervous gasp that threated to spill from her lips as his fingers dragged across her knuckles and came to rest on the ground beside hers.

Her murmured a soft apology.

Tohru only had to take a single look at him to know that the yawn was a ruse. The glint in his eye proved his actions were deliberate. She let a small smile work its way onto her lips as she turned back to the movie that filtered around her in waves of incoherent sounds and flashes.

He was closer to her now, so close that even if she wasn’t looking, she could stretch out her curled fingers and be able to feel his touch again. The fact that he had reached for her first and closed the distance between them once already made her bold and she did just that.

Slowly, so slowly that she wondered if she was actually even moving, Tohru reached out for Kyo until the tips of her fingers brushed against his. Her skin sparked to life at every point she met his skin and she couldn’t help but wonder that if the barest touch did this to her, what would it be like if he touched her fully.

Her heart flickered with warmth as Kyo tapped her fingers with his own. It became harder and harder to pretend that she was trying to watch the movie and she hoped that neither Yuki nor Momiji noticed. She really should have been more concerned that either of the two would notice her fingers tangled with Kyo’s but Tohru couldn’t bring herself to care.

Every living part of her was focused solely on Kyo and the way his fingers danced with her own, creating soothing words in a silent language that she couldn’t yet translate beyond a peaceful stillness.

If he would let her, someday she would do everything in her power to learn it, and him along with it. But for now, she was content with their furtive dance and their secretive smiles so long as it meant he was near.

- x -

started writing this back in august. several mental breakdowns later, bon appetite. title from ‘this side of paradise’ by coyote theory

#kyoru #kyoru fanfiction #fruits basket #fruits basket fanfiction #our fingers dancing when they meet

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 7 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| previous chapters

A/N: I don’t know if I can say this but this is one of my favorite chapters I’ve written and I’m so excited I can finally share it! it’s literally two people driving around but it matches the song I guess… I hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading it! <3

-7-

“So Lemon thinks I’m dating you.” Priyanka used the home phone to call her friend the day after their night out.

It was almost noon and Priyanka’s hangover had abandoned her body after drinking a gallon of water and taking a long -long- shower. She was walking around the house with the phone in one ear and a half-empty cup of coffee in the other. Her parents were at her sister’s place, having lunch with the kids so she had the house for herself –and when you’re hangover no matter how much you love kids you do want to be alone.

Denali burst into laughter. “Does she?” Her voice sounded distorted after singing all night.

“Well, thank you for being so considerate and laugh at the possibility of dating me. At least you didn’t do it on my face.”

“It’s not that… I’m sorry. You’re gorgeous for what matters.”

“You’re still laughing.”

“It’s your telephone connection. But wait, are you going to tell her the truth?”

“Eventually, if she asks again… Until then, would you mind if I play dumb with it?”

“Priyanka, oh my God… You’re so silly.”

“Okay, I’ll take that. But let me be potentially unrealistic for a moment here… she might be jealous of you.”

Denali gasped exaggeratedly.

“Quit making fun of me, you bitch.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… This is just so entertaining for me.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“But the night ended up well for you two, right? Progress… character development?”

“She was drunk and called me Sprinky before I pushed her into a taxi.”

“I love Sprinky! Aw, you guys, pet names already.”

“That hardly qualifies as a pet name but…”

“Tomayto, tomahto, same thing.”

It really was Denali the one who lived in a fantasy world.

“I gotta go. I need to pick some groceries from the supermarket.”

“Okay, bye Sprinky!”

Priyanka clicked her tongue. “Bye. Bitch.”

Her mother had given her a list of things to buy since she was staying in all day and she said her lazy ass needed to do something productive, -she didn’t say it like that but that was what Priyanka heard when she was still wasted on her bed.

She had taken her car to the supermarket that was in the center of the city since it was the biggest one around. On her way there, she noticed the engine coughing a little more than usual but she downplayed it when the noises stopped.

The day was sunny and hot, it warmed her skin and made it glow as she drove to the location. She had grabbed a pair of denim shorts that were on top of her suitcase –luckily, since she hadn’t unpacked yet- but she had to dig some more to find an ombré knitted white and blue crop top she had brought, then complimented the outfit with a pair of sandals and vintage round orange sunglasses. After brushing her hair a little, she was ready to go.

She got to the store, picked a shopping cart, and wandered through the aisles with her mother’s list in her hand. She occasionally lifted her feet and slid with the cart when no one was watching. Then she got distracted whereas she was goofing around and almost crashed it on the cereal aisle, fortunately, no one saw that.

Well, almost no one.

“Jesus Christ you’re going to kill someone with that.”

Priyanka stopped in her tracks when she recognized the voice right away.

Naturally, Lemon was there to see her making a fool of herself.

She was there, looking unimpressed as usual with a shopping basket on the floor next to her. Lemon was wearing a NYC t-shirt in pastel yellow, pink and blue, a pair of mom jeans, and white chunky sneakers that made her a bit taller. She also had a giant pair of white oval sunglasses with black glasses on -Priyanka only suspected the reason behind that fashion choice- she had her hair wet but tied into pigtails and lip gloss, lip gloss was never missing with her.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Priyanka mumbled.

“Can’t say the same,” she sighed. “are you following me or something?”

The brunette scoffed. “You wished…”

“Then move aside I’m trying to get the Froot Loops.”

Priyanka looked up and spotted the colorful cereal box above her head. “But the real question is can you get the Froot Loops?”

“Oh, fuck you.” She almost pushed Priyanka off the way but the other girl moved faster.

Lemon had to tiptoe and jump a little to reach for the box and Priyanka enjoyed every second of it.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Lemon was surely grumpy that day, it was the hangover speaking.

“Not really.” She grabbed a box of Cookie Crisp. “I was wondering if you made it home alright after the state you left.”

“I did… thanks for pushing me into a taxi.” There was some of sarcasm there, Priyanka detected.

“Anytime.”

Lemon started walking and Priyanka followed her with her cart, at that point to mess with her some more.

“You still have that sweet tooth for the chocolate chip cookies…” The blonde observed.

Priyanka looked at the cereal she had chosen without giving it much thought. “I guess I do… You still like anything colorful and sugary.”

“Some things never change.”

But other things changed too much.

After roaming a little, at some point, they split and when Priyanka collected the rest of the items on the list she waited in line to pay for her shop. She saw the blonde when she crossed the automatic door with her grocery bags.

Priyanka slid the credit card and then left as well. She loaded the bags on the trunk, then sat at the driver’s seat and inserted the keys to turn on the engine. She tried a couple of times without significant results, the engine coughed a little and then when she thought she had it, it died again.

“C’mon girl, don’t do this to me now… I bought ice cream bars.”

The sight of smoke wasn’t a lovely view, to say the least. When she lifted the engine cover, she discovered it was worse than what she expected.

“Shit… shit, shit, shit… this is bad.”

She pulled her flipping phone from her back pocket and called her father who calmed her down but couldn’t do much in the distance; he suggested a mechanic nearby that could take a look at it.

Priyanka was losing her mind. She sat at the curb and buried her face in her hands.

“Looks like you could use a ride.” Lemon’s voice made her look at the girl.

“Not now.” She blurted out. “I don’t have time for your snarky comments so please refrain from saying anything you’d think is clever.”

Lemon lifted her sunglasses. “I’m not trying to get on your nerves; I’m legit offering you a ride.” Priyanka didn’t seem convinced. “Think for a moment, your groceries are going to go bad with the heat and no air conditioner.”

“The ice cream bars…” She was on the verge of tears. “Fine. Yes, I need a ride, would you be so nice and help me out?”

“Come with me, my car is around the corner in front of the drugstore.”

“Buying some aspirins?”

“Cut the slack I’m trying to do a good deed here.”

“For a change.”

They carried the bags to Lemon’s car around the corner and Priyanka raised an eyebrow as soon as she saw her car.

As expected, from all people, Lemon would be the one driving a sunny yellow Volkswagen New Beetle. They put the groceries on the trunk yet again and the blonde took a seat in the driver’s position, Priyanka sat on the passenger seat.

“A yellow car?” She questioned.

Lemon buckled up. “My dad gave it to me.”

“Your daddy bought you a pretty car? For real?”

She adjusted the sunglasses back on. “He felt guilty after getting re-married and I accepted it as a peace offering. Is that so terrible?”

“Of course…”

Lemon started the engine and moved the vehicle toward the roundabout, heading for Priyanka’s house.

“You have to turn right in the next street.” Priyanka indicated.

“I think I know where your house is.” Lemon murmured as she took a different way.

“Yeah, you could get there faster this way but you’re about to enter to a one-way street… on the opposite side.”

“Shit.” Lemon maneuvered her way out with a U-turn.

“Does everyone in New York drive like this?”

Lemon blushed. “This is my third time driving in town.”

“Did you drive all the way from the Big Apple alone?”

She shook her head. “Rita visited me there and then we traveled together.”

“You two get along for what it seems…”

“It took some time and adjustment. That was supposed to be our bonding trip but I’m pretty sure she secretly holds a grudge since I convinced her mother of making the bridesmaids’ dresses pastel yellow for the wedding.”

Typical Lemon.

“But her mother is nice, she makes my dad happy so I can’t complain.”

“What about your mom? How is she?”

“Christina is alright. She got signed by an important architectural firm two years ago and has been working non-stop since then. She dated a few men but nothing too transcendental. She still listens to ABBA on a daily basis and sings every song in the repertoire deliberately loud enough to embarrass me in front of people but she’s happy. She’s on a cruise right now having the time of her life probably, that’s part of why I’m here.”

“Good for her, good for Christina.”

“That’s what I said. I thought this whole thing of my dad marrying someone else was going to trigger her somehow but she’s proven me wrong when getting over exes is about. Maybe it helped a little that the woman her ex married is older than her but who knows.”

Priyanka chuckled.

Lemon turned the radio on, Give Me All Your Luvin played through the speakers.

It was nice, to get to talk with Lemon like that, forgetting all the fights and unresolved problems they had for a moment. If Priyanka closed her eyes for an instant she could almost picture them both chatting in Lemon’s room with the music playing on the radio and the smell of wet nail polish in the air.

But then, when she opened her eyes, she got back to reality in a world where they had missed seven years of each other’s lives. There was a time where she could tell exactly what Lemon was thinking of but now it was a different story, the blonde was inscrutable and Priyanka couldn’t predict her reactions or guess the words that would come from her mouth. There were many things she didn’t know about Lemon now.

“Do you like Rihanna?” Priyanka asked when they stopped in front of a red light.

“What?” Lemon turned her head. “What kind of question is that?”

The brunette shrugged. “A thought I had.”

“Of course I like Rihanna, what kind of monster do you think I am?”

“One that doesn’t like Rihanna… perhaps.”

Lemon laughed at how ridiculous the conversation was. She had to continue driving when the light changed to green.

“Rihanna’s first album came out seven years ago and she didn’t get the recognition she deserved until a few years later…” Priyanka explained. “so I never got to know if you liked her music and I’m asking it now because there are two types of people in the world, the ones who have the taste and the ones that are monsters and dislike Rihanna’s music.”

“Okay, I’m telling you I love her. In fact, open the glove compartment.”

Priyanka looked at her.

“Go ahead, open it.” She commanded.

She did as the girl said and when the glove compartment was opened, a pile of CDs boxes where revealed inside. The first of them was a copy of Loud by Rihanna and the next one Good Girl Gone Bad.

“I couldn’t bring all of them but I have a few of them here and others at home.”

“Fair enough.” Priyanka checked the other albums underneath.

The little collection included Circus by Britney Spears, Teenage Dream by Katy Perry, Survivor by Destiny’s Child, Overexposed by Maroon 5, The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani and Fearless by Taylor Swift –that last one was Rita’s, she explained- Priyanka inspected the CDs until she found one last album that was in the bottom of the box, it was a worn out copy of Spice World by the Spice Girls, nothing more and nothing less.

“Hey, this is the album you gave me before moving to New York, remember?” A smile grew wide on her face before the memory.

Lemon blushed till the tip of her ears. “I do… that’s actually the copy I used to have in my room… the one we listened to on my radio.”

“Is it?” Priyanka looked at it with admiration. The colors were a bit pale and the box had several scratches, it was clear it has a few years on.

“Yeah… the CD doesn’t work anymore but I still got it there.”

Priyanka looked at the blonde who had her eyes fixed on the road and her hands closed around the steering wheel.

“Why did you keep it?”

“Sentimental value.” Her voice tone was almost inaudible. “I guess I’m not that cold heart monster you think I am, right?” She sounded somber.

“That’s not what I said… I-”

“We’re here.” She announced when she stopped in front of Priyanka’s house. “I’ll help you with the bags and then we can go get the mechanic for your car.”

She got down from the car leaving Priyanka with the words stuck on her throat once again.

It was becoming a pattern now, right when they started getting along again or when they had a decent conversation, Lemon shut the doors and closed all the windows before Priyanka had the chance to break through her walls.

“Your house hasn’t changed at all.” Lemon observed when they walked in with the groceries.

“Ah, yeah. My mom didn’t fall for the charms of the Property Brothers.”

“Do you have the hots for Drew or Jonathan?”

Priyanka cackled. “I stand behind my mother’s beliefs in this one.”

They put the bags on the countertop, Priyanka rushed to place ice cream on the freezer and other products on the fridge before they got spoiled. Lemon folded the paper bags in the meantime.

“Do you have some water?”

“Yeah, here.” Priyanka threw a water bottle at her and the girl caught it in the air.

She opened her purse and took two aspirins and chugged them down with a water sip.

Priyanka just watched her.

“What?” The blonde asked.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I’m hangover, okay? Tequila is not my best friend… or vodka… neither of them.”

“That’s weird, judging by the way you drank yesterday you’d never guess.”

“Fuck off.” She drank some more water. “Now let’s go get the mechanic for that jalopy of yours.”

“Jalopy?” Priyanka gaped at her. “Excuse you, miss, but I paid that car with my blood, sweat and tears, and two part-time jobs.”

It was the car that was supposed to take her to New York, to Lemon.

“We should hurry then, I don’t know much about mechanics but the amount of smoke that engine released isn’t normal.”

“I know that.”

“Then, let’s go.” The aspirins probably were kicking in.

Before they left the house, Lemon stopped in front of the wall where Priyanka’s mother hung pictures of her and her siblings. In the past, there was a photo of the two of them in school but all over the years her mother probably had saved it just like Priyanka did with all the other Lemon memorabilia. The blonde cast an eye on a photo of the family’s matriarch with a group of children.

“Her grandchildren?”

“Yes, my nephews and nieces.”

“That’s cute… you’re an aunt now.” Priyanka recognized the softness behind her voice and it made her heart skip a beat.

They were back on the road again and Lemon followed the directions until they got to the mechanical workshop Priyanka’s father had suggested her to go. Priyanka explained the man in charge what had happened and then followed the girls with a tow truck.

Priyanka’s car was still where they had left it. It broke her heart to see it there in the streets completely abandoned.

The mechanic took his time to check the engine, he tried to make it work after adjusting some screws and move pieces Priyanka had never heard naming before. Lemon could’ve gone by that moment but she stayed with the brunette, she even shared her bubblegum with her when she noticed how stressed Priyanka was.

After thirty minutes, the man spoke with Priyanka. The diagnosis was not good and he explained that there wasn’t much for him to do. Priyanka felt the knot on her throat and the tears coming at any second. That was her car her baby… this couldn’t be the end of their adventures.

She was beyond surprised when she heard Lemon’s voice.

“But there must be something you can do about it.” She sounded assertive. “The chances are low but there are still chances, right?”

The man babbled some excuses about the car being old and even when it was in a good state; it was going to require some extra work.

“Then do the work.” The blonde continued. “That might look like a piece of junk for both of us but that’s her piece of junk and it means a lot to her so you will take it back to the workshop and do whatever you have to do to save it. Am I being clear enough?”

The man just nodded with wide eyes, maybe too scared to add anything else.

Priyanka was also speechless.

She watched the mechanic hooking her car to the tuck and then stared at Lemon.

“Thanks.” She blinked a couple of times. “That was amazing.”

“I’m sorry I called your car a jalopy.”

“She’s temperamental but it’s okay, I don’t think she heard you anyway.”

“I know you might think of me as this spoiled brat but don’t think I don’t understand what’s like to work hard to achieve something.”

“Thank you.”

“Now let’s go before that guy mistakes the junkyard for the workshop.”

“Hey!”

All was not lost.

That was what the mechanic had said once they left Priyanka’s car at the workshop. It was going to take a couple of days to have a better picture of the problem but maybe replacing some parts would make the difference.

Priyanka sighed of relief and almost hugged the man but then she saw the zeroes on the estimated budget for the repairs and decided to keep the hug for herself… she was more than thankful for having a job back in Toronto that would pay for the bills.

“Well, the good news is that she might live.” Priyanka announced when she got in the car with Lemon.

“There you have. He was just playing hard to get and I know about that.”

“Thank you, Lemon… for helping me so much today. You didn’t have to but still, you did.”

She started the engine. “You’ve done the same for me no questions asked.”

“Are you feeling better after the aspirins?”

“Yeah… I’m never drinking again I swear…”

“That’s a lie.”

“It is…”

“Do you even remember what you said? Last night?”

Lemon stopped in the red light. Her face was as pale as paper and she stared at Priyanka with big eyes, there was horror on them.

“What did I say?”

Priyanka started laughing.

“Priyanka, what did I say?”

The brunette ceased laughing. It was the first time Lemon called her by her name.

“You called me Sprinky and kept asking if Denali is my girlfriend.”

Lemon breathed again. “Thank God… it was just that…”

Priyanka was now puzzled. What else could she’d said?

“I remember that part, you never answered the question anyway.”

She sighed. “Denali is my friend. Just that… we’re friends. Are you happy now?”

Lemon kept driving, it became evening all of sudden.

“I don’t understand though, how did you get to the conclusion that we were dating? I mean, where did the idea come from?”

“Uhm… I’m friends with Kiara and Scarlett on Facebook…”

Traitors, both of them.

“Aha…”

“…and… well, sometimes a picture with you would appear… or pictures of you in nightclubs…”

“I’m so going to kill Scarlett. I told her not to post those…”

“I didn’t mean to assume anything but… I saw you and Denali together the other day and I thought… maybe…”

Priyanka took a deep breath.

“So you know… you know I like girls…”

She nodded.

“And are you okay with that?”

Lemon looked at her. “Why wouldn’t I? Of course I’m okay with that…”

There was a short silence between them, a part of Priyanka was relieved but she could feel her heart pounding.

“Don’t tell me that on top of you thinking that I dislike Rihanna you also consider myself to be homophobic or an ignorant asshole… that being the same thing.”

“I’m asking you.”

“Well, you’ll never have to question it again.” She sounded angry.

“I’m sorry… I take it back, you’re not a monster.”

Lemon’s face softened.

“It’s just… I think of Jan…”

Jan.

That name again, seven years after.

“Jan and her girlfriend Jackie are the one example of true love I have. My parents’ marriage didn’t work but Jan and Jackie… they are grossly in love, it’s disgusting and I love them so much.”

So Jan had a girlfriend… interesting.

“If they couldn’t be themselves and be together I would’ve lost all hope in love, to be honest.” She looked at Priyanka. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but do your parents know?”

Lemon was probably one of the only people who knew Priyanka’s struggles with her family by first hand; they had spoken about it so many times before but never specifically on that topic.

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I told them a few years ago when my oldest brother was planning his wedding and they were trying to set me up with the son of their friends or something like that.” Priyanka tittered. “I told my mom first and she was more sympathetic, I had a long talk with her, lots of tears… then we hugged and she told me she loves me…”

Lemon did the unthinkable: she reached for her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. It was a small gesture; it didn’t last longer than a few seconds –she was driving after all- but for some reason, it made Priyanka feel much better.

“My dad… it was a different story. It took him longer to accept it and I believe he’s still digesting it so we don’t talk much about it. It was easier when I moved to a new city… It’s not like I had to need to hide who I am but there I could start from zero and be one hundred percent myself since the first moment.”

“I’m happy for you.” She smiled. “I really am.”

With all the resentment and the bickering, Priyanka had forgotten that Lemon could be sweet, that she could be caring, that she could be her friend.

A friend.

“So your friend Jan, she’s your roommate, right?”

“Yeah, the same.

“Is it Janice, Janelle, Janet…?”

“I’m quite sure it’s just Jan but even after these years they probably don’t even know my real name so it could be anything at this point…”

“And she’s dating Jackie.” Just to make it clear.

“They have the corniest love story that involves love confessions in carriage rides in Central Park, roses and singing songs under the starry sky.”

Priyanka almost choked.

“Exactly.” Lemon giggled. “They are a constant reminder I’m single as hell.”

This time, Priyanka choked for real.

At that moment, Lemon stopped the car, they had arrived.

In the distance, Priyanka spotted her parents’ car arriving shortly after.

Priyanka’s mom got down from the car and got closer to the unfamiliar car parked in front of their house meanwhile her dad put the car in the garage.

“Priyanka and… Lemon? Is that you?”

“Hello Mrs. Suknanan, it’s been a while.” She opened the door of the car and hugged Priyanka’s mom.

“I haven’t seen you in ages… You look all grown-up.”

“Don’t lie to her like that, mom.” Priyanka walked to where the little reunion was taking place.

Lemon rolled her eyes.

Here we go again.

“Are you staying for dinner? We’d love you to stay. I insist… I’m sure Priyanka would love it too.” She elbowed her daughter.

Traitors, even the ones you’d never expect.

“She wants to know if you’re staying for dinner…”

Lemon pulled one of her pageant full teeth smiles. “I’d love to, Mrs. Suknanan but I promised my dad I’d be back by now. Maybe some other day.”

“You have to promise it to me or Priyanka is never going to bring you back.”

“Mom! Leave her alone.” Priyanka wanted to hide under a rock.

“Actually, I’m the one who brought her tonight so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’ll wait for you to stop by next week, alright?”

“I’ll be here.”

Priyanka raised her hand. “Am I invited?”

“We’ll think about it.” Lemon grinned. “Mrs. Suknanan, always a pleasure to see you, please give Mr. Suknanan my regards.”

“I will, dear. Give your father my best wishes.”

“I surely will.”

Priyanka’s mom got into the house leaving them alone again.

“She’s so lovely… why didn’t you pick any of that?”

“Ha. Ha.” Priyanka exaggerated her fake laughter.

“As much as I know you enjoy having me as your driver, I have to leave now.”

“Thanks again for that. My car might live another day because of you.”

“I know.” Lemon seemed pleased.

“I’ll make it up to you… somehow.”

“I’ll think of something just wait for it.” She opened the door of her car and Priyanka closed it for her.

“See you around, Lemon.”

“I knew you were stalking me.” She started the engine.

Priyanka threw her head back and released a laugh. “In your dreams, doll.”

The brunette watched the sunny-side up vehicle getting away and then walked toward her house with a smile on her face she couldn’t erase.

#rpdr fanfiction #drcan #can1 #lemon #priyanka #lemon x priyanka #childhood friends #friends to lovers #lesbian au #come home to my heart #plastiquedoll #concrit welcome

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bornintartarus · 4 years

Text

Posted for the annual Jason Todd Birthday Week! Also on AO3

Jason's feet are numb as he walks the lonely streets of Gotham. They are barely protected against the ice and snow he treads upon, covered in the remnants of shoes that had been brand new five years ago. He wiggles his toes to bring back some warmth as he walks, hands tightened in his tattered jacket pockets. One of his hands is clenching the leather wallet he picked off a businessman chattering on his phone, the other a bracelet he stole from a woman when she helped him up after falling to his knees in the snow.

A stab of guilt worms its way into his young heart and he squashes it down resolutely. His mom needs this money, he needs this money. It's the only way they'll survive past this stupid winter.

Winter in Gotham City is much like everything else he's experienced in his life this far, brutally unforgiving and a death trap on the streets if you weren't careful. It makes him shiver in his sleep, the wind's screaming jolting him awake in the middle of the night. He loves his city, it's the only home he's ever known, but that doesn't stop him from being tired.

The stealing is rough, but it hurts less than coming back to his mom without anything to feed her. It doesn't help that she's getting weaker by the day, barely accepting anything to eat anymore. Jason fondly remembers the days before his life became a living nightmare, before his dad left and they were living out in the cold.

His mom was filled with life back then, her cheeks pink and eyes glowing. She was healthy, not starved and always exhausted. He had sobbed at first when he realized what the drugs were doing to her, depriving him of a mother who was actually capable of taking care of him. There is no sparkle in her eyes now, all traces of mischief and adventure gone.

Jason realizes that he doesn't really know his mom anymore.

Wind whips at his cheeks, pushing hair in front of his eyes. He brushes it aside with trembling fingers and readjusts his hood to cover more of his face, gasping when the wind steals its way through the cracks and engulfs his ears in the freezing cold air.

Better hats, better socks, better gloves- there's a list of clothes he needs to survive this season, all with expensive price tags. It's either being cold or going hungry, and even at eight years old Jason's smart enough to know which one will get him killed first.

He has an actual list too, one back in that ramshackle shelter he and his mom call their home. He used to carry it with him, but just looking at the store windows made him want to tear it to pieces with desperation. They need food that isn't stale, water that's hot, clothes that actually fit. He doesn't know how much longer he can go on like this.

They've only been out on the streets for two years now, and a part of him swears he's never been this cold. He spent the last couple of days nailing scraps of wood and plastic garbage to block up the cracks at their little shelter, trying to root out where the cold air forces its way in. He spends the rest of his time out on the streets, scrounging for anything that can substitute for blankets and stealing things here and there from people to buy food from the dingy convenience store around the corner.

He takes the time to check on his mom, usually just to reassure himself that she's still breathing.

"Hi mom."

His throat closes up and not for the first time he wishes he was less of a crier.

"I have to run out to get some things."

No response.

Jason sniffles and holds back tears. He can do this, it's been two years, but seeing his mom like this never fails to cripple him.

He clears his throat. "I'll be back soon."

He doesn't expect a reply as he whispers a quick "Love you" and bolts away.

So that's what he's doing now, out in the cold. As he passes the Gilzean's Turf he keeps his head as low as possible, making himself smaller as he inches away. He's perfected the art of being invisible over the years, the only way to get away with trespassing on another gang's land. He knows that the gang members in Gotham have no qualms about killing children, hell, half of them make a living by selling drugs to kids in public schools. The thought makes his blood boil with anger.

He skirts around one of the drug dealers, hands inadvertently clenching around his stolen items. If he's caught with the wallet and the bracelet he'll be a prime target for life.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he finally passes safely, but something bright stops him in his tracks.

The store window is closing for the day, but the lights are still on and the cakes are on display. He hasn't seen anything this beautiful in the two years he's lived on the streets. The cakes come in all shapes, colors and sizes, but the one that catches his eye is fire engine red, yellow and orange icing swirling on top to imitate flames. The whole thing has a ridiculous toy fire truck on the top, and at that moment all Jason desperately wants to know is if it's edible or not.

He's stomach is growling with hunger while his mouth waters in vain. His fingers twitch at his sides restlessly. He doesn't know how long he stands there, cold, tired, hungry.

It's his birthday.

He's turning nine, he knows he's turning nine. It's his second birthday on the streets and he misses everything he's lost.

He misses his full stomach, his friends at school, his warm bed. He misses his books and toys, and the way his mom used to laugh when they spent time together.

He misses it all, and none of it is coming back. The feeling hurts more than anything he's ever felt, and he wonders if the hollow feeling in his chest will subside over time.

Suddenly, someone in the store shuts off the lights and the cake vanishes from view, a pang of misery resonating within him. It's gone, and some lucky kid will probably eat it tomorrow.

He stuffs his shivering hands back into his pockets, hands immediately finding the wallet. At least they'll have food tonight.

He makes his way back home after stopping at the convenience store, purchasing two cans of microwavable soup and a bottle of water with a $20 bill. The cashier looks suspicious as he hands over the change, and unease ripples through his empty stomach until he leaves.

He wastes no more time getting back, drinking the cold soup straight from the can. It's the cheapest he could find, greasy and too salty, and the chilly liquid does nothing to prevent the chills racking his skinny frame. Pouring the other into a chipped ceramic Tupperware container, he makes his way to his mom.

"Mom?"

She's awake this time, eyes glassy. Catherine Todd is right in front of him, but all Jason wants to do is cry about how far away she is.

"I brought you soup. You need to eat some this time, alright?"

She turns her head to face him briefly but doesn't respond. He sits next to her and tries to stop his hands from shaking as he feeds her small spoonfuls of soup.

She gets through half of it before she's pushing him away. He leaves the bottle of water next to her, knowing with a heavy heart that he'll find it unopened in the morning.

He pecks her on the cheek and pulls their best blanket over her, pausing to say goodnight before he leaves.

He knows that it'd be warmer if they slept together, but he knows he can't handle seeing her so frail for longer than an hour, and his crying upsets her.

He pulls out his raggedy piece of carpet to cover himself with to bed. He found it a couple of weeks ago in a garbage can, it's the warmest thing he possesses.

He makes a wish, hoping that his mom will live long enough to be there for his tenth birthday.

He dreams of red fire trucks.

___________________________________

ii.

It doesn't take long for time to pass; the days blur into weeks and weeks into months. The cold fades away and suddenly Gotham is warm again, bathed in summer light. The trees grow new leaves, the birds come back, and in no time at all the world moves on.

Wayne Manor hasn't changed in the slightest. The famous Robin costume hangs in the cave, Batman's proudly standing next to it. The manor is spotless as always, the endless hallways and rooms free of dust. The banisters are polished, the fireplaces cleaned of any ash.

Bruce's life simultaneously feels normal and completely out of order at the same time.

He still gets dressed in the morning, still eats breakfast and leaves for Wayne Enterprises. He still deals with boring meetings and pesky co-workers who won't stop staring at him.

It's difficult to get out of bed nowadays.

That, at least, is new. The wretched feeling of hopelessness weighing him down like an anvil. It makes his head hurt and his hands shake. His chest is left feeling tight and it’s always hard to breathe.

No matter how hard he tries to hide it, he knows almost everyone can see the change in him now, and a part of him hates himself for being weak while another part can't muster up the energy to give a damn. Lucius gives him pitying looks whenever he drifts off during a conversation. The league members are more gentle with him now, speaking in low tones without the biting remarks from before. Alfred tries his best to hide his concern when Bruce wakes himself up in the middle of the night screaming his son's name.

Everyone treats him like glass now, fragile, delicate, and liable of shattering. It doesn't help that it's exactly how Bruce feels, like one wrong word could break him for good. The only time he can remember hurting this bad was when he was eight years old and kneeling in front of his parent's bodies in that god forsaken alley.

He lets out a whimper of despair when he remembers finding a 10 year old Jason in that very alley, wrench in hand and grime on his face. He shoves his head into his hands to try and bury the memory, pulling at his hair.

The boy had looked so guilty, crouching in front of the Batmobile. He reminded Bruce of a scared cat, frightened to come forward but fierce in a fight.

He brought the kid a burger.

It had seemed logical at the time, Jason was obviously starving and he figured it was a smart way to get the boy to trust him.

That memory used to make him feel proud, now all he feels is nausea churning through his stomach.

If Jason never met him in the first place he'd still be alive. Maybe hungry and out of school but still breathing.

Adopting Jason had been different from adopting Dick. Dick was cautious as a child, still grieving over his parent's gruesome deaths. When Bruce looked into the acrobat's eyes he saw himself, someone desperately alone who needed love and support. When Jason was brought into his life it was sudden but welcome, and it made Bruce feel a little less lonely in the Manor since his first child spent most of his time in the Titans Tower.

Loving Dick felt like a responsibility, in a way. The boy deserved the attention Bruce had been deprived of after Martha and Thomas Wayne were murdered. It made him proud to witness Dick's journey through teenage years, standing by his side in some of Gotham's darkest moments. He's fought Penguin and Scarecrow and Riddler, and he gets better every time.

The arguing was new, but Bruce knows it's normal. He just wishes it didn't rile him as much as it does. Their fighting is loud, angry and sharp. Words are tossed around, ones that hurt, and they make Alfred sigh sadly. He can't help but feel annoyed at Dick acting out, but he knows that Dick hates it more when he gets left out.

It doesn't take long for Dick to realize he needs some space, and Bruce doesn't stop him when he leaves to train with the Titans.

But in that amount of time Jason Todd has wormed his way into his heart, slowly but surely. He manages to fill the gaping hole in Bruce's heart, and he comes to love the boy more than anything. While his love for Dick is as natural as breathing, instinctual at this point, his love for Jason is all-consuming, and it burns inside of him like a roaring flame.

Dick was never happy about Jason's presence in their lives, and he'd told Bruce once that it made him feel replaced and unwanted. It was hard work, but eventually the four of them had learned to make it work, coexisting with some semblance of normalcy. Nothing made Bruce happier than seeing his sons get along, and it made his heart swell with pride.

Life was good. Dick came by the manor more often and they fought less, Jason was settling in nicely, Alfred was overjoyed. Their small family wasn't normal, but Bruce gave up tradition when he put on the cowl for the first time.

Bruce wants that life back so badly. His heart aches and his head burns with memories. Dick is grieving as well, in his own way. It hurts to see Dick at his worst, awakens something primal in him that screams and shouts, demanding his attention. Dick runs himself ragged, stubbornly contributing to the Titans Team and Gotham at the same time. When Bruce voices his concerns, Dick shouts at him, cries out that he’s doing the best he can.

It makes Bruce feel even more like a failure.

In the end he holds Dick while he weeps and tries to pull himself together, because Dick’s grief is his fault, Jason’s death is his fault.

Today is as bad as any day, his legs feel like dead weights and his brain is mush. He knows how to get past this, he’s been battling this feeling for almost a year now. He swings his legs to the side of the bed and pulls himself upright.

He picks up the phone lying on the bedside table next to him and starts scrolling through his notifications. He reads through the schedule Lucius has made for him for the day, making mental notes as he goes along. He makes adjustments when needed, planning on the meetings he’ll attend. He swears internally when he realizes he’s overbooked for 5:00. He wastes no time switching to his calendar, searching for a free spot when he freezes.

The date is there, staring him in the face like a warning sign. He gazes at the letters almost hypnotically until they’re etched into his brain.

August 16.

He barely gets the chance to register the fact that his legs are moving until he’s crouching on the bathroom tiles, throwing up his dinner from the night before. Sweat beads his forehead as heaves, unable to focus on anything except the fact that it's August 16.

When it finally ends he pulls his legs forward and haunches himself up into a ball on the floor, head tucked inwards. Tears escape and he sobs, grief tearing his heart in two.

17. His little boy would have turned 17 years old.

The realization makes panic seize his chest until he’s gasping for air, fingers trembling as they scramble for purchase. There are hands on his shoulders, warm steady ones pulling him out of his head.

“Bruce, it’s gonna be alright.”

The words float towards him like distant echoes.

“I need you to breathe for me B, c’mon.”

He’s had panic attacks before but in his experience there’s no way to be fully prepared for one. His throat feels like it’s closing up, palms sweaty. His eyes bounce back and forth manically, finally settling on his eldest son.

“That’s good. Focus on me now.”

He tries his best, and eventually his breathing slows. Dick eases himself onto the floor gracefully, covering Bruce’s trembling hands with his own.

“Talk to me Bruce.”

After months spent alone, struggling to get through the days and dealing with his grief alone it’s all that’s needed to break the dam.

“He would have turned 17 today.”

The words are barely a whisper, but he can’t stop the tears that roll down his face from the confession. Dick squeezes his hand and gives him a silent nod of encouragement.

“If I hadn’t gotten him involved with being Robin in the first place he’d still be alive today.”

Dick shakes his head firmly.

“This is my fault, Dick, I-”

“Remember when he put on the suit for the first time?”

His brain scrambles as he's taken back to that day. Like he’d ever be able to forget. Jason was so excited he’d been worried about him falling off one of the buildings while he ran and leaped, doing somersaults in midair.

“He put it on and preened in front of a mirror, then jumped onto a table and screamed about it being the best day of his life, remember?"

Dick laughs softly and Bruce can't help but return the favour with a watery chuckle.

They sit for a few more moments, collecting their thoughts. Dick turns to face him.

"Here's what we're going to do B. You're gonna change, I'm going to help Alfred with breakfast and call Lucius to tell him you're taking the day off."

Bruce groans. "No, Dick, I've got the product launch meeting to supervise, the company's been working on it for months-"

His eldest gives him a hand to help him off the floor and glares at him. "You're taking the day off. Don't make me bring Alfred into this."

He finally relents, heading back to his bedroom to find some clothes. Dick retreats to the kitchen, grinning victoriously.

He abandons the suit he was preparing to wear to work and picks out the softest sweatshirt he owns instead. His phone rings unexpectedly and he grabs it, expecting it to be Lucius.

"Bruce?"

Clark's soft voice rings through the phone and Bruce's breath catches. He hastily presses it to his ear.

"What's wrong? Is it Metropolis or the Justice league?"

He's already running the scenarios through his head, calculating the amount of time it'll take to grab his batsuit and get there.

The voice on the other end halts, Clark clearing his throat. His unease grows.

"No, Bruce." The kryptonian sounds surprisingly gentle. "This is about Jason."

Ah.

Bruce takes a minute to wipe the tears stubbornly forming at the corner of his eyes again. Clark uses that silence to continue.

"Look, I know what today feels like for you and your family. I've been there."

The emotion in his voice instantly lets Bruce know that his friend is talking about Jonathan Kent. Clark's father had passed away two years ago from a heart attack. The memory is still fresh in his mind, Clark barely holding himself together as he spoke at the funeral, clutching his mother's hand.

He swallows. "It's just hard-" his voice cracks with emotion and he starts over. "Hard to move on. A part of me feels like I'm just leaving him behind if I forget the moments we spent together."

He doesn't feel like locking his emotions away this time, he's been doing it for the last couple of months and it's definitely making him worse. The reasoning makes him feel significantly better about his breakdown.

"How are Dick and Alfred holding up?"

"Better then I am, but at this point I have no idea. A part of me is afraid that Dick's distracting himself from his grief by taking care of me instead. He's spreading himself too thin with Gotham and the Teen Titans and-"

Clark stops him before he starts spilling his soul into the phone. "Alright, so work through this together. It's pretty obvious that you both need each other right now."

"I know he needs me but I don't know how-"

He can hear Clark's smile through the phone. "Bruce, c'mon, you're overthinking this. Just be there for him, trust me."

Bruce swallows audibly. "Alright."

"I'm here too, if you need me. For anything."

And shit if that doesn't make him want to start crying again. He manages to whisper his thanks and accepts Clark's casual "Anytime."

He hangs up, and heads downstairs, eating breakfast with Dick and Alfred. The rest of the day passes without incident, Dick calls Lucius and they spend his day-off relaxing in the manor and taking strolls around the grounds. Overall the day is one of the best he's had in a long time.

That doesn't stop him from going to visit Jason's grave in the middle of the night, shakily opening up his copy of Oliver Twist and reading it out loud until his tears start to blur the words.

___________________________________

iii.

He spits out curses as he walks down the street, breathing laboured under his signature red hood. His ribs are bruised and he can't seem to muster up enough energy to hide his brand new limp.

Black Mask's men had attempted to take over some of his turf once again. Usually Jason didn't mind, it was pretty low on his list of concerns. He let them have it for a couple of days before moving in, killing most of the idiots on sight. He figured Black Mask would get some better men by now but it seemed he was as much an idiot as they were.

The problem with this particular spot was that it was home to an apartment he'd brought earlier and rented out to a couple of street kids. They were all minors, some of them living on their own while others lived with roommates. If Jason was loyal to anyone it was those kids and he wasted no time going in with guns blazing.

Not exactly the nicest way to start off his 23rd birthday but hey no one could say it hadn't started off with a bang.

At least all the kids were safe. Most of Sionis's men were dead, but that was normal at this point. One of the kids stopped him as he left, concern painting his features.

"You look like shit man, stay here."

At least the kid had spunk; not all of them were brave enough to approach him. He looked about 15, barely fitting into clothes that were dirty and about two sizes too large. Jason searches his memory for a name, comes up blank. He might have been one of the kids who tagged along when he'd picked up someone else.

His musing is interrupted as the kid steps in front of him.

"I'm serious, you look like you're about to keel over."

Jason ignores the lightheaded feeling as his surroundings spin lazily around him. He clears his throat.

"I'm good. Make sure you lock the windows and doors tonight, call me if anything happens."

The kid nods, looking unconvinced. Jason pushes forward.

All he wants to do is spend the night snoozing in one of his safe houses, but the thought of sleeping in one of his cots makes him groan with discomfort. The possessions he keeps in his safe houses are always meager, he doesn't want to lose his supplies over something as stupid as being caught.

He prepares to walk home and scowls when he realizes he's going to need to stop somewhere for food, his stomach is growling. He makes a right on the next street and propels himself to the nearest grocery store, grateful that it's a dingy place with hardly any customers.

He ducks into the alley next to it and ditches his helmet, breathing in the fresh air as it comes off. He swaps it for a baseball cap and covers up his suit with a light jacket. He zips it up as he makes his way into the store, head down and steps purposeful.

He browses the shelves and picks out some water bottles and stops at the freezers to grab microwave lasagna. He grins at the thought of Alfred shuddering at his meal choices, he could practically hear the man complaining about the unhealthy ingredients used.

On his way to check out he finds a table cheerfully advertising cupcakes that are 50% off. They look like they're on the verge of expiring but it's been a while since he's had something sweet. He shrugs and picks up a pack that isn't too crushed.

He dumps his items on the conveyer belt and roots through his pocket for money, groaning internally when the price totals to $27.88. Money isn't hard to find nowadays, what with all of the connections he's gathered over the years, but a small part of him is still a starving nine year old desperate to feed himself with the little he has.

He wonders dimly if that part of him will ever fade.

He's startled out of his thoughts for the second time that night but the woman behind the cashier. He knows he needs to bandage his wounds and sleep it off, but he can't do that unless he focuses and gets his ass back to the safe house.

The woman's name tag indicates that her name is René and she peers at him worriedly from behind her glasses.

He flashes her a tired smile. "Sorry, I'm a little distracted tonight." He hands over the cash and she busies herself with the register, printing out his receipt. While the machine spits out the paper she turns to face him again.

"Are you alright? You look like you were hit by a car."

Even when Jason was a street kid, he loved to watch people. It was a great way to practice his thieving skills, finding out who would be an easy target long before slipping his hands in their pockets. One thing all citizens in Gotham had in common was their bluntness when it came to the crazy crime sprees and sudden robberies. Barely anyone batted an eye when there was a home invasion, and unless the body count was above five it wasn't even featured in the local newspapers.

To outsiders the cold disinterest might've been considered cruel, but it didn't take Jason long to figure out that it was the way that people coped. Keeping yourself numb kept the pain at bay, and he could probably relate to that fact more than anyone.

So René's reaction to an injured young man showing up at her store instead of a hospital wasn't surprising, but at least he could deal with this.

"I'm fine. Just ran into some people, you know how it goes."

She nods as she bags his items, pausing with the cupcakes.

"You sure you want these? I know it's technically my store but you seriously don't want to know how long they've been on these shelves."

He can't stop the sudden bark of laughter at her words and tries to stop himself from doubling over and crying out. He's starting to reconsider his original evaluation of the state of his ribs.

In the end all he manages is turning away and wheezing, trying to quell the coughs that makes his insides feel like they're on fire.

René stares at him with unease, looking like she wants to simultaneously pat him on the shoulder and take a couple steps back at the same time.

She settles for grabbing him a bottle of cold water from the fridge behind her, unscrewing the cap and pushing it into his shaking hands. She glares at him until he relents and takes a gulp, the cool liquid soothing his dry throat. He keeps his eyes on her as he finishes it.

"Thanks."

"If you start coughing up blood like the dude in the horror movie I saw last night I'm kicking you out. I'm not staying overtime, I got a girlfriend to binge Stranger Things with," she warns, not unkindly.

"Wouldn't dream of it." He gives her a smirk, or tries to. He'd like to think he pulled it off. "And yeah, I'll take the cupcake. I am the birthday boy after all."

She raises an eyebrow. "No kidding? I'm guessing the blood and twisted ankle is from a surprise party gone wrong?"

He doesn't grin this time, eyes focused on the bags containing his items.

He keeps his tone carefully uninterested. "Nope. Decided to celebrate the occasion on my own this year."

He doesn't miss her sigh. Once you move to Gotham you see some things on a daily basis that make you stop questioning the why behind the crimes. It's just a fact of life at this point, trees are green, pizza is good and Gotham is where bloodthirsty maniacs call home sweet home. She's probably seen thousands of tired, ragged kids on their own stumbling into her store just like he's done tonight.

The thought stirs up the familiar rage he's been carrying with him since he was little. The sick feeling that haunts him as he sleeps, the knowledge that the children in his city are raped, beaten, kidnapped and killed almost regularly.

He grabs his purchases and avoids René's gaze, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. He knows he's practically running out of the store but can't seem to give a damn.

He's already outside when he hears it, the shout muted through the glass doors.

"Happy birthday!"

It's enough to stop him in his tracks as he contemplates going back. She was nice to him, there's no reason to leave things awkward.

He settles for sticking his head back in the door and yelling out a "Thanks!" before bolting.

He heads back home, head throbbing in tune with his heart. He shrugs off the dizziness as he walks, pausing to catch his breath as he leans against the wall of a building. He inhales the sharp smell of cigarettes and gasoline, a combination he's been familiar with for longer than he can remember.

Cars speed past him, the bright lights almost dizzying as they flash across his vision. He rubs his hands against his eyes to get rid of the bright spots, trying to quell his rising nausea.

Miraculously he makes it back in one piece, and it takes all of his willpower not to collapse on his cot and pass out. He heads to the small shower and runs the water until it's hot, shedding his jacket and dirty armour. He climbs in and sighs out loud at the blissful feeling. He shampoos his dark hair, fingers dragging through his scalp as he works in the soap until it starts to foam.

He rinses it all off, wincing slightly when the hot spray of water hits the worst of his bruising. He grabs a towel and grabs some clean clothes, settling into a comfortable tee and a pair of sweatpants. He dries his hair methodically, swiping the first aid kit from his bathroom cabinet, an ice pack from the fridge and his plastic bag of items from the store.

He settles on the cot and cleans out his wounds with antiseptic. One of the cuts is deep enough for stitches, and he clenches the muscles in his jaw as he passes the needle through his skin. It's a task he's done countless times before, usually without anesthetic. He finishes the job neatly, snipping the thread and dabbing it with antiseptic before wrapping up the whole thing in gauze bandages.

He works on the bruising on his torso next, which is covered with black and blue. He rubs salve over the worst of them and bandages the rest.

His leg is last, his ankle throbbing from the walk home. He focuses on the part that's swollen and red, grimacing as he alternates between pressing the ice pack to his ankle and the bump on his head. He's fairly certain it's not bad enough to be a concussion but it's giving him a headache. He makes sure to keep his ankle elevated and rifles through his purchases, pushing the conversation with René out of his mind.

He's starving, hasn't had anything to eat all day. He's too exhausted to muster up the energy to get back up to heat his frozen dinner, so he leaves the lasagna for now and grabs the cupcake instead.

It's minuscule, barely the size of his palm and covered in bright yellow icing. Little blue sprinkles are scattered on top. He unwraps the white wrapper and takes a cautious bite.

It doesn't take long for him to register the taste and he spits it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeves. The cupcake is definitely stale, rock hard and inedible. Imagining Alfred's disapproving face makes him grin.

He decides that at least alcohol is worth getting up for and heaves himself off the cot. He's careful with his ankle, maneuvering his body to ensure that most of his weight is on his good leg.

He scoops up the frozen lasagna from the floor and heads to what substitutes for his kitchen, containing just a tiny fridge and a microwave. He puts his meal in a microwave safe dish and watches it as it cooks, grabbing a spoon and a can of beer while he waits.

The friendly beep signals that it's done, and he curses when the plate burns his fingers slightly as he walks back to his cot. He studies the books kept carefully organised on his shelf, picking one at random.

Finally he settles, sighing in relief when his twisted ankle is cushioned and iced once more. He pops the lid and takes a satisfying swallow, putting it aside to eat the lasagna.

Happy birthday to me! He thinks sarcastically. The lasagna is warm but doesn't even come close to some of the after-school snacks Alfred had made him when he was 13.

He digs through his food, pausing momentarily to flip through the book. His heart hardens when he realizes that it's a battered copy of Gone With the Wind. Memories flit through his head, Bruce reading it to make him fall asleep and Dick taking him to a library to renew his borrowed copy for the billionth time.

He figures that it's poetic enough for the occasion and opens it up to page one.

“Scarlett O’Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were. In her face were too sharply blended the delicate features of her mother, a Coast aristocrat of French descent, and the heavy ones of her florid Irish father. But it was an arresting face, pointed of chin, square of jaw. …eyes… brows… lashes… magnolia-white skin…so prized by Southern women… bonnets, veils, mittens… against hot Georgia suns.”

He smiles at the familiar words, nostalgia overtaking him as he reads.

___________________________________

iv.

Steph and Cass were the first to bring it up, crashing into his current safe house like they owned the place.

He will grudgingly admit that it isn't entirely unwelcome, spending time with his sisters makes him feel less like a bastard.

That didn't mean the topic was a good one, and Jason is willing to ditch his very nice safe house in an attempt to escape.

"Please, Jason? For us?"

Steph is practically begging at this point and Cass is looking more and more like a kicked puppy every minute.

"No. Not a chance in hell."

Steph rolls her eyes. "C'mon big bro, live a little! It's not like it'll kill you."

Cass, the little devil that she is, grins at that while he groans.

"You did not just bring up the death card." He stabs a finger in her chest. "I'm the only one who gets to use the death card."

She blows a raspberry at him at him and winks. Cass tugs on his shoulders.

"It'll be fun."

Jason snorts. "Yeah right. Spending a whole evening with my greatly extended family for a birthday bash sounds exactly like fun to me." sarcasm drips from every word as he puts air quotations around "birthday bash".

Cass hits him and glares at her.

"Alright, ow, you don't have to be mean!"

Steph grins. "Does that mean you'll come?"

Jason shakes his head and dodges the expected blow from Cass. He smirks. "No, that means I'll consider coming."

Step shrugs. "Good enough."

Thankfully that's the worst of it and they spend the rest of the time eating chips and playing Mario Kart.

His luck doesn't last though and Tim is next. They're barely halfway through staking out a weapons drop-off when the interrogation starts.

"So, your birthday's Sunday huh?"

Jason lets out a laugh. "Subtlety was never your element."

"Everyone's hoping you'll-"

Jason waves him off. "Yeah, yeah, show up at the manor out of the blue and spend the evening with you guys, Cass and Steph already gave me the rundown."

Tim smiles at that. "I'm not surprised.” He frowns thoughtfully. “I am surprised that you didn't agree right away though, those two are fierce when they want something."

"And I'm not?" Jason can't stop himself from asking or the annoyance that comes with it.

Tim puts on a mock expression of sadness. “Don’t worry Jason, I’m sure the street thugs are still scared of you. But face it, Cass is a full blown assassin, you couldn't compare in the slightest.”

Jason shoves the younger teen and Tim cackles. “Fuck off!”

As Tim regains his balance the truck beneath them finally starts its engine. He knows Tim still wants to continue the conversation but he brushes him off hastily.

“Too bad, guess we’ll have to finish this later!”, He sings, unable to contain his smugness.

Tim scowls. “Whatever dude, but don’t come crawling back to me when Dick finally makes his move.”

And with that happy thought the pair are off into the night, conversation forgotten almost immediately.

As the week progresses he isn’t surprised to see Dick’s number ringing on his cell in the middle of a turf war. He ducks behind a car as the gunfire gets progressively louder as he groans out loud.

“Dickiebird, make this quick. I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

“Are those guns?”

Jason smirks despite his situation. “Nah, just some moron doing fireworks in his backyard.”

“In the middle of the day?”

“Who are you to judge, going out in spandex at night-”

“It’s not spandex, dammit, how many times are we going to argue about this-”

Jason cuts him off again. “Whatever dude, told you, I'm a little busy-”

His brother snorts at the end of the line. “Sure. What a busy life you lead, without a day-job and any personal relationships that haven’t been forced onto you by your loving family.”

Jason grins. “Hard day at the police station, Officer Grayson?”

Dick sighs audibly. “We’ve had three complaints filed at the station for incidents relating to this one stupid cat who invades people’s backyards. The little guy’s a menace and has no owner. I’ve been talking to angry neighbors all day today and i’m pretty sure Rowell broke the coffee machine too but he won’t admit it and I haven’t had any goddamn coffee all day today-”

Jason rubs at his eyes, trying to quell the headache that’s already forming. “Slow down, you’re starting to sound like Tim. Remind me why you work at the police station again?”

Dick sighs again and the sound flashes Jason back to Bruce after he used to return from a long day at Wayne Enterprises.

“To help people legally”, Dick drawls, annoyance creeping into his words.

Jason snaps his fingers intentionally knowing his brother can’t see him. “Exactly! If you weren’t so hell-bent on being a good person you might be less miserable on a daily basis!”

“Shut up, Jason.”

“Make me. Any reason you’re calling me in the first place?”

“Just wondering if you have plans for Sunday-”

Jason hangs up.

He’s starting to tick off the family he has left, he doubts that Bruce or Alfred will approach him and that leaves Barbara, Damian and Duke.

He decides to grab some coffee and a croissant before heading out for the day, stomach rumbling at the thought. For once he’s not in a hurry, so he smiles at the woman at the cafe who brings him his order and settles down to enjoy it on one of the park benches.

He’s taken his first bite when Damian slides in next to him, trying not to choke at the sudden appearance of the youngest Wayne.

Damian notices his reaction and smirks like the little shit he is, folding his hands neatly in his lap. After he gets over his shock he’s taken aback at how casually Damian’s dressed.

“You look relaxed”, he points out, sipping his coffee.

Damian scowls. “Tt. Jonathan’s convinced I need to blend in using civilian attire.”

Well that makes him grin. “Jonathan Kent huh?” He elbows his brother in the ribs. “Spending a lot of time with him lately, aren’t you?”

The shade of red peppering Damian’s face is gratifying and he can’t stop himself from laughing out loud as his brother fumes silently.

"There's nothing going on between me and Kent, you imbecile, and even if there was-"

Jason puts his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, jeez. But if you ever need advice or someone to talk to, I'll be here."

The offer seems to take Damian aback and his shuts up, looking thoughtful. "We'll see," he finally mutters.

Jason claps his hands. "Awesome. I'm guessing you're up next to torture me about my birthday?"

Damian nods. He puts a warning hand on his arm.

"Don't even think about running away. I'm a trained assassin, I will find you."

"Having fun is hard for you isn't it?" Jason replies idily, staring up at the blue sky.

Damian ignores the jibe. "Think about Bruce's face, Todd. He'll think he's finally gone delusional if you end up showing up."

Jason opens his mouth with mock surprise. "Are you trying to bribe me with the opportunity to give your own dad a heart attack?"

The younger boy sniffs. "He can handle it. The others just want you to be there."

He doesn't include himself in that sentence but Jason gets the message. Damian wouldn't be here if he didn't care.

Oh, how he hated to disappoint.

Damian shakes his head resolutely, a gesture so Bruce-like it gives Jason deja-vu.

"I thought that'd be your response. Which is why I came up with a back up plan."

Well fuck if he doesn't like the sound of that, recalling Damian's earlier threat when he consideres running away for the hundredth time. Damian bends over to rummage through the bag he brought with him, and Jason smiles when he sees the amount of knives instead and something that resembles a katana sheath.

Eventually his brother finds his phone and presses a few buttons, handing it to Jason with a smirk as it rings steadily.

Jason contemplates dropping the phone and stamping on it until it shatters when the person on the end picks up.

"Master Jason, I assume that's you?"

He freezes like a deer in headlights and Damian's smirk grows impossibly wider. The little shit! He knew this was going to be a deathtrap.

"Master Jason, you know it's rude to leave someone waiting."

The british accent is one he hasn't heard in a while, and the familiarity of it makes him want to tear up. He holds the phone up to his ear with a shaky hand.

"Hi, Alfred."

"Ah, you're alive. I'm assuming Master Damian has explained what this is about?"

He shoots his brother a dirty look, the other inspecting his fingers smugly.

"Yeah, he may have mentioned it."

"Excellent. You'll be at the manor on Sunday then?"

His throat is dry. "Or course."

"Wonderful. Come no later than 7, Master Jason, the others will be delighted."

"I'm sure they will", he mumbles.

Alfred hangs up after they exchange goodbyes and he hands the phone back to Damian.

"You're a cheater."

Damian shrugs. "Honestly, you should have expected that to happen eventually."

"Demon spawn," he mutters under his breath.

"Piece of shit," the younger retorts.

Jason raises his eyebrows but can't exactly say that he's surprised and resigns himself to his fate, but not before delivering some well-deserved pay back.

"So, about Jon-"

Damian shoots him a warning glare and leaves.

"Karma's a bitch little wing!" he yells at the quickly retreating form, ignoring the annoyed looks of the people around them. Jason sighs and finally finishes his croissant in peace.

So now he's standing in front of Wayne manor, trying to school his features into something that doesn't look like apprehension. He's wearing casual clothing, jeans and a sweater. A part of him wanted to wear his full Red Hood suit just to get under the idiot's skins but there was no way he was wearing full bullet proof armour all evening long.

He jogs past the fancy garden sculptures and fountains, letting himself into the unlocked house. He makes his way through the foyer, finding his family huddled around an Xbox playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare.

The group is laughing, smiles all around as they banter back and forth. His heart aches dimly to be a part of that something, an intense yearning to be integrated into their family dynamic. It looked so easy.

The moment's ruined as soon as Dick spots him and wraps him up in a hug. "You made it!" The grin on his face is blinding. "Guys, birthday boy has arrived!"

Fuck this. This family sucks.

"Jesus Dickface, get off-"

"You're crushing him Dick", Barbara says, tone reproachful.

And jeez, literally everyone is there. Tim, Duke and Steph are crouched on the floor, still engrossed in the video game. Damian is standing beside Dick, looking too smug for his own good. Barbara and Cass are right behind them.

Someone starts to ruffle his hair as they walk past. He's about to shove the hand away when he sees who it belongs to.

"Aunt Kate?"

Kate grins. "Good to see you kid. Happy birthday!"

"I wasn't expecting you to be here."

Kate shrugs. "Life's been slow recently and besides, there was no way I was going to miss a Wayne party!"

He laughs at that, making his way over to give her a hug. Kate has always been one of his favorite people, he distinctly remembers the chocolate she used to smuggle to him when Bruce wasn't looking and she hung out during patrol.

Bruce and Alfred are next to enter the room, and Jason smirks when he sees Bruce stop his sentence abruptly when he sees his second son. Jason catches Damian's eye as he winks.

"Hey Bruce."

Bruce cautiously steps forward, unease rippling across his features. Things have been better lately but some wounds take longer to heal then others. He squashes the guilt as Tim's bloody face flashes beneath his eyelids.

"It's good to see you Jason."

Jason spreads his hands. "It took some convincing," he replies, words directed at the others. Tim smiles and Dick laughs.

Alfred wastes no time drawing him into a tight hug, one that no one comments on after Jason gathers his composure.

Alfred smiles brightly at all of them, and fuck, Jason knows that coming was worth it.

"Dinner will be served shortly, if you all want to follow me to the kitchen?"

There's a mutter of agreement around the room and Jason is soon swept into various activities. Dick grabs the plates while Bruce helps Alfred with the dishes. Cass and Duke chat as they swipe cutlery while Tim and Steph set the table. Damian carries the knives, rather ominously in Jason's opinion but no one bats an eye.

There's some jostling as everyone finds a seat, Damian and Tim shoving each other to get the chair next to Dick. Cass finally sighs and switches with Tim, whose face brightens considerably.

He chats to Dick quietly about things in Blüdhaven, Bruce resuming his conversation with Alfred and Tim. The girls talk about school, Damian bringing up the art show he's participating in next week. The food is as good as he remembers, roast paired off with potatoes and countless salads, sauces and side dishes. Unfortunately there's no alcohol but he eats enough for two.

As the food is cleared away and multiple praises are directed Alfred's way for the meal, they drag Jason to another room. He grins when Steph pulls out the alcohol.

Damian and Tim groan out loud and Kate shoves them. "Don't worry, I'm sure there's juice in the fridge", she teases. Damian scowls at her.

Alfred informs them that he'll be in the kitchen preparing dessert and he leaves promptly, Damian following him to the fridge.

Bruce raises an eyebrow at his daughter. "We do have better drinks."

Steph shrugs. "I'm convinced there's a difference between getting drunk on fancy red wine and getting wasted on cheap beer that's past its expiry date."

Bruce relents, an incredulous look on his face. They sit in a circle, passing chilled bottles around.

Steph grins. "We're gonna play 'Most Likely'."

A mixture of gasps of delight mingle with complaints as the room descends into chaos again.

Steph raises a finger and whistles piercingly. "Ah ah ah, no buts. We're playing. It's simple, one person says a scenario and everyone else chooses a person in the group who they think is most likely to do it. The person with the most votes takes a drink."

Duke opens his bottle and takes a gulp, laughing at Dick' expression, Damian returning with cranberry juice for Tim and himself.

Cass laughs. "I'll start. Most likely to set the manor on fire?"

Bruce chokes at that one, eyes flashing dangerously. Jason grins. The votes are casted here and there but when he counts most of them are on Kate.

The woman in question smirks and gives a mock bow as she takes a swig of her beer.

"Can't say that I disagree."

That makes a bunch of them nod and laugh out loud. Kate swallows and starts the next question. "Most likely to get punched in the face by a stranger?"

Jason can count six other hands pointing at Dick, including his own.

The five others are pointed in his directions, but like Kate's answer earlier he can't really argue. He's gotten punched by tons of strangers, usually people undercover for Roman Sionis or other drug dealers he's managed to piss off. He takes a mouthful of beer, smiling from the burn.

"What are you talking about?" Dick complains. "I'm a nice person!"

"Sure, but you're also oblivious as fuck-"

"Language." Bruce mutters.

"-and you can't catch a hint to save your life. I can name some of the girls and guys who've flirted with you and didn't get a reaction," Tim finishes.

Dick pouts dramatically and takes a drink. "Most likely to giveaway hints by accident while playing poker?"

That one causes an uproar and Jason can't really choose who gets this one. They're all pretty decent liars, they have to be in their line of work. He ends up picking Barbara, only because she's had trouble keeping Batgirl a secret from her dad.

He's not the only one who brings that up and the votes are tied between her and Duke. The pair each take a drink.

Duke chews his lip as he thinks, brow furrowed in concentration. His face lights up when he figures out what to say.

"Most likely to use their kids as an excuse to get out of commitments?"

Simultaneously, everyone points at Bruce, who looks guilty and amused at the same time.

"How many times did you tell Wayne Enterprises I was sick as a kid to leave a meeting early, B?" Dick asks with a raised eyebrow.

Bruce smirks. "Not nearly enough times, those meetings give me migraines."

He unscrews the cap and takes a long swallow, his kids cheering. He shoots Steph a look. "You prefer this to red wine?"

Steph grins and nods, Cass and Barbara agreeing along with her.

Kate claps him on the back. "That's more like it!"

Bruce smiles and proceeds with the game. "Most likely to kill someone out of spite."

Jason counts two fingers pointing in his direction, one at Tim while the rest point to Damian.

The youngest Wayne scowls, raising his glass and taking a grudging sip of his juice, eyeing Dick's bottle wistfully. Dick gets the memo and pulls his beer away from his younger brother, tightening his hold just in case.

The game continues for the next hour, all of them getting progressively more drunk as the sun sets. Tim's declared to be the 'one who's most likely to be a criminal mastermind', Bab's 'most likely to run for president'. Alfred steps in just in time to win 'most likely to manage to survive while being stranded on an island'.

Overall, Jason is happy and sleepy and wasted.

The cake is brought out, cheers ringing out as plates and forks are passed around. The cake is shoved in his hands, and he takes a moment to blink with surprise.

"You made a cake in the shape of my helmet?"

It's really the only possible explanation, the cake is absolutely drenched in red frosting. It's in the shape of an oval, frosted white slits substituting for where his eyes would be. It's bigger than his actual helmet, and Jason turns it around to inspect it from all angles. A single candle glows brightly on top.

He stares at them. Dick and Alfred are squeezing his shoulder supportingly, Tim and Duke flashing him grins. Kate looks nostalgic as she hands him a knife, Damian's face carefree. Barbara starts to sing happy birthday softly, Steph joining in while Cass gives him a hug.

"Happy birthday chum," Bruce whispers, eyes bright as they reflect the flames. He smiles in response and blows out his candle.

Tim nudges him. "What did you wish for?"

To stay here forever.

Jason snorts. "I wished that one of those birthday presents you all suck at hiding contains a new gun."

Dick laughs at his response and Alfred smiles. Cass gives him a comforting look however, and not for the first time Jason's taken aback at how well she can read him.

It doesn't take long for everyone to settle down with a piece of cake. Jason takes his first bite and sees stars. It's just moist enough and the icing melts perfectly on his tongue. He gives Alfred an appreciative nod.

As the plates are returned to the kitchen they all find themselves in front of the TV, arguing on which movie to watch.

"For the last fucking time Dickface, no one wants to watch Dumbo because it makes you cry every single time his mom gets taken away!" Jason retorts.

Tim opens his mouth hopefully.

Damian cuts him off before he can even speak. "The same goes for you, asshole. No more Lion King fiascos."

Tim shoves Damian and he stumbles, both of them tackling each other to the ground. Kate claps slowly while Bruce breaks it up.

Jason takes the opportunity and steals the remote, grinning with triumph.

"It doesn't matter what you losers want, it's my birthday so I'm picking." There's a chorus of groans and Jason's smile widens. He scrolls through the Netflix suggestions and finally decides on Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

Steph yells with excitement and throws a pillow at Duke who groans, Cass's features morphing into one of confusion.

Barbara shrugs. "It's a classic."

Jason whoops as the movie starts, all of them fighting for popcorn and soda. Halfway through the film the mood gets increasingly more relaxed. Dick’s head is on his shoulder, Damian’s fighting for more leg room with Tim on his other side. The girls are spread out on the floor, Cass’s head in Steph’s lap, Babs sitting comfortably in her wheelchair beside the couch. Duke is falling asleep on Bruce, who Jason realizes is already asleep, snoring lightly into the cushions. Kate’s perched on the edge of the sofa’s armrest, watching the movie with interest. The only person who still looks dignified is Alfred, lounging in a chair he’s pulled up.

The movie marathon continues with Steph’s suggestion, Mean Girls, and they’re halfway through King Kong when they finally shut off the TV. Alfred wakes Duke and Bruce, Cass and Tim pulling Jason through the room for presents.

The pile of presents is larger then he would have guessed, boxes covered in shiny wrapping paper and small parcels. Everyone scrambles to sit around Jason, pushing their gifts forwards. He doesn’t know if he should be amused or terrified at the looks of eagerness around the room.

Kate gives him her present first, grinning slyly at her cousin. Bruce frowns, knowing he’s not going to appreciate what’s in the package. Jason tears the wrapping paper and lovingly pulls out one of the knives from its sheath.

He holds it out and tests the balance. “Well these’ll be useful.”

Steph hands him his present next, the weird object decked out in black wrapping paper with comic style font all over it. He squeezes it and scowls immediately. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

Steph shakes her head, eyes bright with mischief. The plushy Jason’s holding is a frog that looks like it’s seen better days, a dirty brown color that may have originally been green. One of the buttons used for eyes has popped off and he's pretty sure the hole at the bottom has been leaking stuffing for years.

He holds it up to face her and she smirks. The others are laughing as well. "What the hell is this?"

"Your birthday gift!", she sings. "Found him at a thrift store last week and I couldn't just leave the poor guy there, his eyes are so full of love, you know?"

"You mean eye, singular,” he points out.

"So he's a cyclops, why does it matter? Turn it around."

He does, biting back the urge to start laughing uncontrollably. The front of the sorry looking toad indicates that his name is Jason. He groans out loud when he sees the tell-tale smear of sharpie under the frog's name.

Jason Toad.

Dick throws his head back and laughs, while Babs gives Steph a high five.

"Yeah, yeah, very funny. Now shut up or I'll leave him here." He abandons the plushy and grabs the nearest gift instead.

The package is soft and he crinkles the wrapping paper as it tears. His breath catches when he finally sees his present in its full glory.

"Whoever brought me this is automatically my favorite sibling." his gaze slides over to Damian and Tim and reconsiders. "Unless it's Replacement or Demon Spawn, they can be promoted to third."

Tim rolls his eyes and Damian shoots him a disinterested stare.

"Be nice Master Jason", Alfred chides lightly.

Duke puts a hand on his shoulder. "Guess I win then."

Jason grins at the other man. "Thanks dude, way better choice then the toad."

He wastes no time pulling on the soft leather jacket, stretching his shoulders out comfortably and digging his hands into the pockets.

Tim's present turns out to be a key-chain with a mini chainsaw attached, because "Bruce wouldn't let me buy you a real chainsaw."

All of his other gifts are just as good, Alfred gives him Bluetooth headphones, a brand new copy of Life of Pi from Dick plus boots and eyeliner from both Barbara and Cass respectively.

Damian's present is one of the last and when he pulls apart the wrapping paper he’s left with a thin rectangular box. He stares at his younger brother.

“If this is jewelry it better be nice.”

Damian shakes his head, a small smile forming on his lips. “Better than jewelry.”

The gift turns out to be bullets, all of different sizes and shapes. They’re organized carefully, each with a label attached underneath.

Jason studied one that’s sleek and silver, little slits in the sides. The little lettering in the case lets him know that this one is filled with gas. He grins.

“Are these personalized?”

Damian nods. “Each and every one, tailored to your favorite gun. I modified the version father uses for his Batarangs and transferred it to work with bullets.” He shrugs. “I figured they were more your style.”

Jason stares at him, silent for a beat before turning back to the weapon. “Fine, I guess you can be my fourth favorite sibling.”

Tim huffs. “I helped him with the tech.”

Damian elbows him smugly.

He almost doesn't register Bruce standing in the back until the chatter dies out. His adopted dad looks like a kicked puppy and Jason feels an unexpected fondness shoot through his heart.

"You have something for me Bruce?"

Suddenly something is roughly being shoved into his hands and he stares at the thin object for a second. The room goes silent, the entire group fixated on Jason and Bruce.

The slips of paper are familiar and he swears he's held them before. He turns them over to read the minuscule writing.

Gotham City Knights vs Gotham Giants

Featured in Gotham City Stadium

Mon Aug 31 2020 7:30 PM

“You got me baseball tickets?”

Bruce clears his throat and presses on, looking uncomfortable. “You used to love going as a kid, and I brought two so you could take someone with you if you wanted.”

Jason’s voice catches and he swallows around the lump in his throat. “Sure, are you free Monday?”

Bruce’s “Yes” sounds more like a croak but it’s there, an open invitation to spend some time together. It’s not an apology but it’s a start, and he’ll take it. Jason’s heart swells.

After that they all goad him into sleeping over, an offer he would have declined if not for Alfred’s stern glances. They decide to grab some pillows and blankets and settle on the floor, everyone comfortable and sleepy.

Well, if anything, it’s not the worst birthday he’s ever had.

#jtbdayweek #Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #kate kane #clark kent #Alfred Pennyworth #bruce wayne #Duke Thomas #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #Stephanie Brown #Happy Birthday Jason!

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 4 years

Note

hello 🍓🍍 and 🍅 please !!

🍓 - What is one word that would describe the feeling your character gets when they think about their childhood?

Harrison: Demanding

Lonan: Lonely

🍍 - What was the funnest scene to write in your WIP so far?

Scene G in chapter four of Feeding Habits, Coup de Grace is the most fun I have had with writing... probably ever? I couldn’t share a lot of it because I didn’t think it would be appropriate, but the section where Eliza cuts off Lonan’s hair and they chat about mating habits of the preying mantis is SO GOOD I really peaked. How can I not love that scene?? It’s the birthplace of the iconic “I’m the grass” Lonan dialogue.

🍅 - What is your OC currently in denial about?

I’m going to answer this for Harrison because him being in denial about missing Lonan is literally the entire brand of his POV!! Here’s a compilation of Harrison being in denial about missing Lonan for an entire chapter straight:

Subtle denial:

“You didn’t tell me she was Lonan’s sister.”

Harrison pokes at a flake of pastry and wipes his hands on the front of his jeans. Reeve’s bangles clatter in a cyan jangle as she applauds at the same contestant she previously ridiculed. There are so many things he could say to his mother—he knew Reeve first, Reeve isn’t just Lonan’s sister to him, more like his own, but when he adjusts himself, swallowing and tidying the hem of his shirt, all that comes out is, “I didn’t think you needed to know.”

more OVERT denial:

“I would’ve like to,” Suz says. “Does she know? That you don’t know where he is?”

Harrison’s fingernail catches on a loose thread, and he yanks it out so even Reeve glances back at its upholstered plink. “I know where he is, Suzanna.”

mans said “though he knows it should no longer matter to him”:

Though Suzanna eventually leaves, joining Reeve on the couch, propping her feet on the same coffee table so their polished feet touch, toes pink like raw cherry tomatoes, though he knows they’re both right in knowing and not knowing where Lonan is, though he knows it should no longer matter to him, he finds himself leaning against the table where the kittens encase each other in a plastic shoe bin, ticking his fingers at his side.

Suzanna: stirs the pot Harrison: let’s just completely ignore this:

“How’s your brother?” Suzanna asks, yawning like the answer will bore her even though she’s the one who’s asked. She rests her chin against the rib knit throw, her hair frizzing against the yarn.

The fake audience cranks out another caw of laughter, and on comes a commercial for kitchen scrubbing pads. The woman’s voice sudsy, vinylic, like the sheen of dish soap as a mannequin-like hand smooths grease from a ceramic saucer.

Harrison reaches for the kittens, and onto his finger, one crawls, its paws no bigger than the size of a pencil eraser. When Harrison looks back to the women, Reeve’s face is paler than before, her red-wine thrush receding.

More ignoring:

Harrison turns his back and pretends to tend to the kittens. They all know he does nothing but thumb the backs of their heads, let them suckle against his fingertips—they all know, and yet, he continues doing it. Silence cuts through the apartment like hot glass.

Harrison at a Las Vegas party:

Also Harrison: *thinking about not thinking about Lonan*:

There was no emptiness, no bare spot needing to be filled when he levitated between them. There was no Lonan, no faces to remember, nobody to impress, no one to be responsible for.

OH OH is this addressing the denial??

He hadn’t come to the party thinking about Lonan but managed to attract the same people. He hadn’t drunk the magenta liquid thinking about him but managed to exit the house stumbling, as he did, his knees knotted like a newborn lamb. There was something inconceivably indissoluble about them—their bond mirror-like, one making one decision, and the other mimicking it with vigour, unknowingly inseparable.

lmfao he really didn’t try to save this one he said pass me the wine lmfaoo:

“Why did you want to see me?” she asks, her face shielded in shadow, which he’s grateful for. She adjusts her hood around her ears, fingers tapping absently on the kitten’s shoebox.

“I missed you.”

“You wanted to see Lonan.”

“I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“It also helps that he’s got my face.”

Reeve hands him the bottle, and Harrison drinks a swig of wine gladly.

oh here we have overt ADMISSION (regarding the above^^)

Under the streetlamp, Reeve is softer than she was in the apartment, and this orange haze of her both comforts and saddens him. Reeve is not wrong. This is the only truth he knows.

I did not lie when I said he was in denial:

Lonan does live in her face, as she’s suggested, and he understands it’s why he finds it difficult to look at her. The same shift of their hair, like the smear of oil, the same chin, like it was carved out of soapstone, the same set of their mouths, not quite a frown, not quite at rest. It isn’t why he rummaged through a phone book the day Foster left looking for any semblance of her name, calling everyone he could find with a name similar to Reeve—the Eves, the Revas, finally settling on an Evie M. Aldridge—this is what he tells himself. It isn’t why. But what other reason would there be?

Proof:

“What do you miss about him?”

Harrison blinks. He hasn’t expected her to speak to him again, in fact he’s pictured the night whittling into gauzy silence, them setting the box afloat in the fountain, and then leaving once more, wordless. Reeve drinks another sip of wine. Its scent stings, like earthy cranberries.

“I don’t,” he says, which is a lie, and they both know it.

my thesis, proven:

She looks at him in absolutes, like she sees his every answer scraped into his cheek and doesn’t need to check his work. Her eyes are feline and rimmed with kohl and aquamarine mica—she doesn’t need anyone to tell her the truth because she holds it in her fist. “He has a girlfriend. He’s happy.” Harrison rations more wine down his tongue, three times as much as he’s intended to drink.

“But what do you miss about him?”

Harrison misses nothing. He sleeps little and smokes too much because he misses nothing. He walks by himself, eats by himself, talks to himself because he misses nothing. He jumps from job to job, person to person, place to place because he misses nothing. He wakes up in dazes the colour of blackberries because he misses nothing. He blinks dreams from his eyelashes like they’re bad spells because he misses nothing. He holds himself, he drinks himself, he leaves no company for anyone because he misses nothing about Lonan. He misses absolutely nothing.

I *wonder* who he is referring to:

The man must ask him if he’s intoxicated, never noticing the shoebox floating in the fountain, because Harrison says, “Who’s to say? I miss so many things,” and isn’t talking about the bottle of wine, and Reeve, that both seem to have vanished, as if they were never there.

This is indisputable at this point:

Harrison draws his index finger through the slush, doodling nonsense—letters of his name, an eyeball, a singular, faceless nose. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Harrison in Denial: The Finale:

His hands move for him. Dividing the snow in slopes, curves, lines—letters. When he’s finished, he rests his chin on his own shoulder and dries the slop of slush from his nail. The security guard leans over, bends down to get a better look, but Harrison doesn’t have to look to know what he’s written. Chiselled so the flurries fill its gaps, like cement. His name will be erased by dawn. Lonan.

and my point! is proven!

#asks #writing #fostered #feedinghabits #mothwork

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secretblog1212 · 5 years

Text

Sparkles Ahoy!

Robin paints her nails on a slow day at the Mall, not only are her hands distracting in more way than one but they are evil tickly weapons. Sorry Stevie boi... (they’re bffs! Not couple. Ew.)

Starcourt was always busy, no matter what day of the week it was. Steve and Robin never really had had a slow day before, at least until today. The weather was hot and humid, no one wanted to leave their house let alone go to the mall. It was the first time in Steve’s two months of working at Scoops Ahoy that there wasn’t a single person in the store.

Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t mind that no one else was there, it was a nice change of pace from their normally busy schedule, he just… was bored? He had gotten used to being on the move that now that he finished all his daily tasks he wasn’t sure what to do. Robin had claimed her spot on the counter top and had a bottle of sparkling nail polish to occupy herself. While Steve was sure he would look great with glittery fingernails he decided to forgo the offer.

“Awe, too sad the great Steve Harrington doesn’t want to shine. Let me know if you change your mind Hair.”

The sassy comment was delivered with a complementary poke to his side, just a friendly gesture that most close friends made. Nothing special. Except Steve barely restrained himself from jumping away from the touch.

The following moment of panic threw all thoughts of boredom out of the window. ‘Did she notice? If she did then would she do it again? She didn’t seem much like the touchy type, and besides Steve played it off well enough, she probably didn’t even notice.’ Steve told himself, hiding all thoughts into the back of his mind. The more he thought about it the more likely she would notice.

But now, twenty minutes later and ten fingers later Steve was still on edge. Every movement drew his attention to her glittery fingers, he eyes them like they would attack at any second. It was no surprise that she would catch him staring, actually, that it had even taken her this long to notice.

“Harrington, you alright there buddy?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, yeah. I’m cool. Cool as a cucumber.” He did a smooth hand wave to truly sell his story.

She snorted, “Oh yeah, obviously. Coolest cucumber in the whole sea, why would I ever think anything different.”

Steve shrugged, see. Smooth.

Robin jumped off of the counter and made her way over to their ice cream tubs. He watched as she reached for a scoop and a cone, hands sparkling in the fluorescent lights. There were a few colors, blue, green, red, orange and he thought he saw something purple too. He didn’t even notice that she was moving closer to him until her hand, the one holding the scoop, reached out and poked him right in his middle.

He straightened up and flicked back in shock, arms flinching in to protect himself. He tore his eyes away from her hand and looked her in the eyes, using his last two brain cells he was able to gather his wisdom to say, “Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted any ice cream, but now I’m more interested in your infatuation with my hands. Surely it’s not too distracting for the Steve the Hair Harrington?”

Always one for a speedy recovery Steve was firing back the banter within seconds. “Maybe all this ice cream is going to your head, I was just zoned out is all. Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

“Oh sure. Must be hard to focus in that tiny brain of yours. Don’t strain yourself on my account. Now do you want Cotton Candy or Brownie Supreme today?”

“Haha, very funny. Cotton Candy thank you very much.”

Robin turned back around to scoop the pink and Blue ice cream into a waffle cone, then without much care or delicacy dumped a heaping amount of sprinkles on top. Just like Steve liked it.

Steve made a point to look her in the eyes as she gave him his cone, making an ‘I told you’ face when she raised her eyebrows, seemingly unimpressed.

She huffed and delivered yet another poke to his chest. Thankfully she turned away and didn’t see the way his shoulders came up and he flinched backwards. By the time she had her own plain vanilla cone with chocolate sauce and two gummy bears on top Steve was back to being his cool, definitely not thinking about how much that poke tickled, self.

They talked about random things, their time in school, different movies, and where Steve thought his kids must be. They normally would of stopped in by now. He wasn’t worried. Besides, she didn’t know any of the kids other than when they would sneak through the back or come over to eat ice cream and talk for a few minutes.

Steve thought he had been doing a good at keeping his eyes on his ice cream, but tingles ran threw his body every time Robins nails would shimmer at him. Did she really need to talk with her hands that much?

He was shocked out of his stupor when she leaped off the counter. “Ahoy! What flavor boat can I get for you today?”

Steve slid off the counter, two girls were at the register. How didn’t he notice them coming in?

“Two regular chocolate cones please? One with sprinkles on top?”

“Of course, Steve will get them for you, I have your total coming out to $1.35!”

Steve quickly made his way over to where the tubs were, and grabbed two cones. He looked over to where Robin was counting out their change, her nails flickering with the different colors. She finished and walked over to him, he was still looking at her hands until she was right in front of him. Poking him. Multiple times.

“Earth to Steve? You almost done there Bud?”

“Yeah, Jeez, calm down.” He said, making an escape over to the topping section.

Fuck, that was close. What was wrong with him? Why could he still feel her fingers digging into the soft area on his stomach. He passed the ladies cones to them and they left in a hurry, Steve let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Turning to his Scooping partner he noticed the look on her face, raised eyebrows, a smirk, and an evil glint in her eye to rival her nails.

“So want to tell me what that was about?”

Play it cool, play it cool Harrington.

“Nail-noth nothing. I uh, yeah. Nothing.” He said, leaning his chin down onto his hand, smooth.

“Really, cause if my nail polish if too much of a distraction I can always take it off.”

“Nail polish? Who said anything about nail polish? I-wha-what nail polish, did you put some on I didn’t even notice?”

She slowly walked up to him, her converse squeaking on the linoleum.

“And you haven’t been staring at my hands for the past hour.”

“No- of course not. Why would you even think-“

She reached out, her pointer finger out as deadly weapon. “Of course you haven’t Harrington, besides it’s just glitter right.” Poke. “Not enough to distract the Great.” Poke “Steve.” Poke “The Hair.” Poke poke. “Harrington.” Flinch.

Steve reached down to block her last attempt with one hand, the other covering his, under attack, belly. A smile made its way across his face and against his prayers Robin started to catch on.

“Woah Harrington, two discoveries in one day. Soon enough I’ll have enough ammunition to take you down for good. First nail polish and now that you're ticklish? Too good to be true.”

“I’m not.” He said all too quickly.

“You aren’t what?”

“Ti- that. I’m not. So don’t, okay.”

“Oh, now I can’t not.”

“Not neceSHAhahary! Nohot necehehesashary.”

Steve doubles over under her attacks, her fingers were quick flashes of color before they pulled back away only to come back a few inches over. He tried his best to catch her hands, and curled in on himself to try to protect himself, but it only sparked Robins curiosity more. Meaning she decided to try new spots.

This was not going according to plan at all.

Her hands clamped onto the squishy part of his sides and his knees decided this was the time to stop working. With a totally not squeal he slowly slid down the counter and onto the ground.

“Jeez Harrington, I didn’t think you’d be this bad. I can’t believe this is the first time I’m learning this.”

He shook his head, hat falling off, and latched onto her wrists. He couldn’t really push her away, no he couldn’t muster up the strength to do that. It was more like he just needed something to hold onto, grounding himself.

Being frank, Robin was surprised. She had expected to be pushed off within seconds and to be told to fuck off. But here The Steve Harrington was, curled into a ball, clinging to her wrists and giggling like a little girl.

She pinched her way up to his ribs, starting with the lower and making it till about half way before Steve suddenly uncurled and arched out.

“No! Noho no no”

“Awe is this a bad spot Stevie? Are you too ticklish there?”

Steve just cackled, his face taking on a strawberry pink color. His eyes were shut as tightly as he could get them, not sure do that was making it better or worse but if he had to look at her, or even worse her nails, he knew he would really die of embarrassment.

She even went to spider her fingers over his knees, barely able to dodge the kick sent her way.

“Fhuhahahack! Rohohobin!”

She giggled at his violent response, “Calm down Harrington, I’m not even tickling you all that hard. You’ve gotta be one of the most ticklish people I’ve ever met.”

She continued to explore, finding a deadly spot in the dip of his hip. Steve slid down even further, now laying fully on his back and occasionally kicking up into the air. His hands switching between holding on and hitting her arms.

She had checked almost all of his body by this point. “Now I’m just curious…”

Before he could even ask what about her hand was spidering up the side of his neck. He slammed his shoulder up to his ear, trapping her hands between. His giggles went up an octave as well, though slightly more breathy.

Her fingers stopped and all Steve could focus on was her laughter. They both took a minute to breathe before either could say anything.

Robin was sitting criss cross apple sauce infront of him, her cheeks pink and still giggling every now and then when she found her words.

“I was nohot expecting that. I mean, really, who would of thought- you of all people I mean?”

“Shut up.”

“Awe are you embarrassed? Don’t worry, it’s endearing. Besides I’m sure all the ladies will find it adorable.”

“No ones going to find out.”

“Oh sure, just between us then.”

“I swear Robin, no one better find out.”

She reached a hand out, Steve couldn’t hide the way he flinched and his lips immediately curled into a smile.

“Calm down Giggles, I’m just going to get us standing. No more tickles today.”

Steve blushes a bright red, “Don’t say it. Jesus Christ.”

“Say what?” She whispered, leaning in close to him. “Tickle?”

Steve threw his hands over his face and turned away from her. “Just leave me here to die a slow and painful death. Tell my parents I loved them, and that I give all of my shit to Dustin.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure to put on your grave stone that you were tickled to death in a sailors uniform.”

Steve groaned and hid his face in his hands. With one last quick poke to his side Robin was on her feet. “Ahoy! Welcome to Scoops Ahoy, what flavorful journey can I take you on today?”

#tickles #st #stranger things #robin #ler robin #ticklish steve #steve harrington #he is such a giggly baby #shes so teasy #i died writing this #holy fuck #im crying #steve is just a ticklish bab okay #robin and steve BFFs #tickle fic #fic

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boymeetsweevil · 6 years

Text

For Science 4/7

Grouping: Reader x Nerd!Jungkook

Word Count: 9.6k (im sorry its so long!!)

Warnings/Themes: definitely probably nsfw but purposefully not that many again. drunk jungkook being angry and then clingy, idiot kook, making out? ANGST?? Hoseok being the slimiest being on the face of the earth,

Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

A/N: I would like to thank @b-angst-tan for beta reading this series as it is so far. I also would like to tag @m-icdrop , @jiminslye & @ephemeral-mindset to let you know that i finally got my shit together and posted lmao. hopefully i didnt leave anyone out who wanted to be tagged. if i did im very sorry and if you want to be tagged for subsequent posts, just DM me and let me know :)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5, part 6, part 7

You wonder if maybe you should have chosen something more weather appropriate as the chill of the still early air nips at your stockinged ankles. It was a hard choice: The fleece-lined sweatpants with the dried tide pod stuck at the hip or something cute and feminine so you could play catch-up with whatever nice thing Yoori was wearing. The sight of Yoori in a slightly similar outfit of an elegant pea coat and demure pleated skirt convinces you that you made the right decision. But while your anxiety about picking the right clothes wanes, a sudden wave of exhaustion hits you. Normally you would be able to rest on a Saturday after 90 minutes of contorting yourself into endurance-testing positions, but today you had no time to untangle mentally—only physically—as you rushed through a shower to give yourself enough time to run to your apartment to grab a change of clothes.

Yoori looks up from her phone and sees you approaching her where she stands by a Starbuck’s storefront. A large grin splits her face, revealing a pair of adorable dimples on each cheek. You’re not expecting her to shove her phone into her coat pocket so she can run over to you and crush you in her arms.

“Hi, how are you!”

“Oh, uh, I’m good. How are you settling in?” Her grasp is fairly constricting , but you try not to appear shaken as you spit her hair out your mouth.

“I’m doing fine. I leased my apartment while I was away so, I’m still at the hotel until that contract ends. But that’s only for a few more weeks. After that I’ll move back in and really be at home. You smell lovely by the way. What scent is that?”

“Thanks,” you blink, “It’s just soap.”

“Mm, what kind of soap?”

“The dollar store kind.” She nods with a smile. “Um, where are we going?”

“Just to this little place up on Main Street. It’s called La Lune, have you heard of it?”

“Of course I have. They’re notorious for only ever being un-booked twice a year! And even then it’s just because they’re taking breaks so the owner can fly to her house in Paris.”

Yoori plays with the sleeve of her coat. “I suppose it does have a bit of a reputation. I must have just gotten lucky with their date book.”

“Don’t you need an appointment to get in?”

“Yes,” Yoori trails off.

“Will we be able to even get in? I-I didn’t call ahead to make a reservation since you said you’d take care of the plans for today.”

“They said they have an extra spot open for us today since they’re training a new technician.”

You don’t push because you know what they say about looking gift horses in the mouth. But you can’t help but wonder how you could have gotten so lucky on your first attempt to get seen at the nail shop. Any suspicion you have about Yoori’s methods of getting onto the appointment book evaporates when you step foot into the shop.

From looking at the pictures of the interior that you could find on Google images, you know that the design is based off of a bunch of spas that the owner herself went to during her many travels to Europe. All the décor is a novel twist of organic meets minimal with polished woods and metals and clean, sloping lines all existing harmoniously. You sit down in a plush chair in the waiting area while Yoori chats enthusiastically with the woman sitting behind the front desk. She does a little spin for her as they most likely talk about how much prettier she looks since the last time she came to the shop.

After confirming the appointment, Yoori makes her way over and sits next to you. She leans over the arm of her chair to peer over your shoulder at the vials of designer nail polish in your hands.

“Do you know what color you’re going to get?”

“Not yet. I usually just do black since it doesn’t clash and it doesn’t make my fingers look as stumpy”

“What are you talking about? Your hands are precious.” She reaches over to bring one up to inspect. “You have such a nice natural nailbed color. A nude would be perfect.”

“You don’t have to flatter me, I know what my hands are like. We can’t all have perfect OPI model hands, Yoori.”

She grins at your indirect compliment. “You think they’re perfect?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. Some things are just objective facts.” She’s quiet for a bit, a small expression on her face as she looks at you carefully.

“I think this shade would look good on you”, she picks out a specific soft shade that highlights that mimics that pink tone of your nails. “Plus, its suitable for the winter and spring. So, you could wear it for a while.”

“It’s really pretty. Thanks.”

“I could buy it for you. If you like.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re already doing so much for me today as is. I—“

“Too late.” She swipes the bottle out of your hand and gets up to go pay.

The guilt is too much for you to sit back and let it happen, so you launch yourself out of the chair and rush past her to the front desk, debit card out and ready.

“I’d like the buy the shade that Yoori has in her hand, please. Thank you.”

Her eyes are wide, but she doesn’t argue, and lets you buy the shade. You give her a pat on the arm and accept the tiny satin drawstring gift bag and try not to think about the chunk of money that just left your account.

You can only assume the rest of the nail appointment is nice but you can’t know for sure. You do know that you must have enjoyed yourself because you promptly fall asleep two minutes into the hot rock hand massage that comes with every booking. Yoori snapped a quick picture of your lax dreaming face and woke you up when the technician asked her what shape you wanted your nails. Leaving the salon finds you refreshed and with a beautiful manicure.

“Feeling hungry yet,” Yoori asks after she catches you staring wistfully at a random pedestrian with a bagel. “There’s still time for it to be brunch at the place I was talking about.”

“Yeah. It’s just too bad my nails are all nice now,” you joke. “Saturday mornings are for ribs at my house.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. They don’t have ribs on their brunch menu, I don’t think. Do you want ribs? I can check and see if there are any barbecue places that are open for lunch.” She fumbles for her phone and types frantically like she didn’t just get a hundred-dollar manicure.

“Yoori, Yoori, hold on! I was just kidding. There’s no way in hell I’m messing these nails up. I’m almost considering just drinking water for lunch so I don’t have to use my hands.”

“Wow, you…really got me.” She lets out a breath of relief before side-eyeing you. “Are you sure you don’t want ribs?”

“Positive.”

“Good,” she chuckles.

The two of you make small talk about what brought each of you to engineering as you take walking directions from Yoori’s phone. The walk ends at a pretty looking place with a yet another French sounding name. It’s filled to the brim with fresh flowers, giving the air a sweet scent that has your mouth watering even more. You take a chance and allow Yoori to order for you, trying not to be suspicious of the strange cheese dish she orders as an appetizer.

“—And that’s how we met Tae. We didn’t meet Hoseok until about a month later when he spilled his drink on me in line for the comic book signing at the campus bookshop that one year.”

“I think I remember that day, actually,” Yoori blinks up as if sifting through the memory in mid-air.

“Oh! Did you go? I feel like I would have noticed another girl there. I think I could count all of us there on one hand.”

“No, I wasn’t there. I’m not a comic book person actually. I just remember seeing all the people coming back in cosplay. There was actually this one really beautiful green elf costume I saw on my way to class. There were lights woven into the fabric and everything—I almost took a photo.”

Your cheeks heat up and you duck your head to take a sip of your extremely expensive blood orange mimosa. “That was actually me.”

“Was it really? Did you make it yourself?”

“No—well, yeah, I did the bulk. But Jungkook helped me a lot and Tae helped me find the materials.”

“And Hoseok?”

“Hoseok scratched his ass and watched.”

“Wow, I can’t believe that was you. It’s like destiny. We must have been meant to meet,” she lays a hand next to yours. You can’t help but notice how well the color of her pastel nails goes with your nude.

“Yeah, I suppose so. But enough about me, I feel like I’ve just been blabbering on and on about my friends.”

“No, I love hearing about them. I always envy people with lots of stories to tell about their friends. I feel like I have to ask,” she trails off, a shy smile splitting her face. “What’s it like being the only girl in that friend group?”

“It’s…only mildly frustrating,” you say with a laugh as your food arrives. It smells wonderful and given the amount of truffle shavings, you’re glad you chose to come here on a day that you weren’t paying.

“How so?”

“I mean, you know how guys are and you know how STEM guys are. Add to that the fact that they aren’t getting laid and you have a very interesting strain of emotional constipation.” Yoori nods along understandingly. “And let’s not forget all the stupid questions they ask me since they can’t ask any other woman.”

“That sounds like it might be frustrating.” You chuckle at her diplomatic tone.

“I mean it is, but they’re nicer than most guys and they mean well.”

The sly smile appears again and she leans forward to create a bubble of privacy.

“Nothing more than platonic has ever happened between you and one of them?”

Thankfully, a waiter rushes by and bumps the table a little and you can use that as an excuse for suddenly choking on your food. You certainly weren’t expecting her to inquire about your sex life so early into the conversation, and the irony of the situation isn’t lost on you. Of course, the apple of Jungkook’s eye would ask you about which of your guy friends you’ve ever screwed around with.

You blot at your face with a cloth napkin. Luckily for you, the way you look when you’ve narrowly avoided asphyxiation and when you’re concealing guilt is very similar. “Oh my god, please. I’m trying to enjoy this food, not regurgitate it. But to answer your question, no. They’re not my type. They’re too…” you make some abstract gesture in the air with your fork and Yoori nods.

“What about Jungkook, then? Surely, he’s decent otherwise I’m sure you would have warned me by now.”

“No, he’s nice. He’s a little out of it sometimes, but that’s always been his thing, you know? But he’s really kind and warm and funny in his own way. Plus, he’s in love with you so I don’t think you have to worry about him doing the man-child thing too much.”

Yoori blushes and shifts in her seat, looking a little uncomfortable. “Yes, I figured as much.”

“Can I ask what took so long for you two to finally meet up? I just—I know he’s been contacting you for a while now.”

“It’s complicated,” she sighs.

“I can keep up.”

“You could say I’ve just always been very wary of the men in our department. They’re not your average guys, but they’re still men. They still want the same things from you. And,” she looks away from you to continue. “I wasn’t sure if Jungkook was that way as well. So, I kept my distance. This must seem pretty suspect to you. Especially since it happened after he got put on the department website. I’ve heard what some people have been saying.”

Your hands fly out to console her. “Oh my god, of course not. That makes total sense. You’re not obligated to entertain everyone who expresses interest in you. I get it.”

“Oh, gosh, I feel so bad.” She hangs her head in her hands and you watch helplessly as her hair nearly falls into her water glass. When you inquire why, she shakes her head with guilt. “Jungkook never outright expressed an interest in dating until a few weeks ago. All the times before that, he’d been a perfect gentleman via text. But it was the way he would stare at me in public with those…those moonpie eyes!”

“He does look like that sometimes. Especially with those glasses.” She points at you like you’ve hit the nail on the head.

After doing a cursory look around the restaurant to make sure no one around will be able to hear her confession, she elaborates. “It was just so obvious how he felt and I was so used to guys feigning wanting to be platonic friends only to corner me in the parking lot after what was supposed to be a friendly dinner out. I-I couldn’t trust him. But then I heard that you were friends with him and I decided I would give it a chance.”

“Why would you trust him just because of me?”

“I have my reasons. And I just figured if you were willing to be friends with him, he might not be so bad. Plus, my mom has been pestering me about getting married and I wanted to get her off my back.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re giving him a chance. It means the world to him and he can finally stop pining silently. When is your first date,” you ask neutrally. Although you know that as soon as you get a date, you’ll have to terminate your weekends with Jungkook.

“Oh well we haven’t really discussed anything like that. I think he might ask about it soon, though. I’ll keep you posted.” The little eye roll and laugh she lets out breaks the heavy mood and you try to steer the conversation in a lighter direction.

“Tell me about your friends, Yoori.”

“Me? Well, I probably don’t have as much to say as you do. Most of my friends have long since finished the program and I’ve been so busy with my dissertation that I just don’t have as much time as I used to for hanging out and stuff like that.”

“I thought you were friends with Sunyoung. The bio double major? Jungkook said you were pretty close.”

“Well, he’s right. At first, we were. She’s been really busy ever since she got engaged, so,” she trails off.

“To that Jaehyun guy, right? But, wait,” you drop your fork as the details fall into place. “Weren’t you guys all friends? And didn’t they get married like half a year ago?” Your heart breaks when you realize Yoori may have been alone for at least 6 months while working.

“I could tell I was making things difficult by third wheeling, so Sunyoung suggested I give them some space.”

You were pretty certain you saw Sunyoung and Jaehyun hanging out with a few of the other women in the engineering building on the regular when you went to print things for class using the department printer. Even with her indirect language, it’s pretty clear what happened between Yoori and her friend and you don’t push. Though you do feel bad for the animosity you felt towards her when she first introduced herself.

“Well, I’m glad we met. It’s nice to finally have a new girlfriend,” you say. She looks up at you with slightly dim eyes but perks up when you lace your fingers together briefly.

The smile she gives you is brilliant and infectious. “Me too. So much,” she says quietly.

When brunch ends, Yoori suggests continuing your stroll so you can walk off the post-food sleepiness. The weather is a bit brisk and there are unanswered texts from Jungkook on your phone, but you don’t say no and keep the notifications unread. Something about the fact that you’re in the shopping district with a pretty manicure and your pretty friend makes you feel good. Good in a way that you haven’t felt in a really long time.

You link arms and window shop for hours, though it doesn’t feel like it. She pulls you into store after store because she saw something that she thought would look ‘splendid’ on you. Somehow you manage to look past her imploring eyes and put the designer garments back on the rack, but not until after she’s made you try them on and spin around in them so she can sing your praises. While you browse each shop, you make comments about the other shoppers or the items that make her dissolve into giggles or make her cheeks flare up with a warm blush and a gaping, incredulous smile. By the time you finally part ways, you almost don’t want to get into the cab she’s called for you, but your feet are aching and the sun is starting to set. She blows you a theatrical air kiss and makes a surprisingly dorky ‘call me’ gesture with her hand that has you covering your face so she can’t see how hard you’re smiling. When you step out to face Jungkook’s building, the mood of the day’s outing lingers on you like a perfume. Or maybe it’s a halo. Either way, Jungkook notices something about you is slightly different when you finally arrive at his doorstep.

“Hey,” you greet him without looking and instead focus on getting your feet out of the little heeled booties you’d been wearing for so long.

“You changed?” His voice is muffled from where he lays with his cheek smushed into the sofa. The xbox controller in his hand dangles as he takes in your appearance. “When did you do that?”

“I went back to my house after yoga. I couldn’t go meet her in a rank t-shirt and the sweats that I slept in.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you turn to see why he’s so silent. One look at the handful of empty beer bottles sitting neatly by the floor by his feet lets you know what the deal is.

“You been drinking, Jeon?” Jungkook when he’s drunk is quite the handful, but the owlish way he blinks at everything when there’s liquor in his system is almost funny enough to make the rest of his drunk antics worth it.

“Yep,” he hiccups. He tries to shoot finger guns at you but almost ends up flipping you the bird.

It draws a string of giggles out of you. He squints and takes in your frizz free hair, your glowy skin, your nice blouse and skirt, the easy way you walk over to the couch to sit by him. His stare is tangible.

“What?”

“You’re really pretty,” he rasps and his hand reaches out without his permission to trace the swell of your cheek.

His comment takes you by surprise and you can only laugh awkwardly and lean out of his reach, unsure of what to do with such a blatant compliment.

“Wow, I spend one afternoon with Yoori and you’re calling me pretty? She must have rubbed off on me real good.” You take the controller out of his hands to un-pause the game of Zelda he was playing.

“S’not cause of her. ‘S cause you’re not hiding,” he mumbles before picking up the other controller that was laying off to the side. His comment doesn’t reach your ears which he’s secretly glad for. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

He reaches over the arm of the couch to fish out one of the leftover full bottles and hands it to you. He doesn’t say anything while he watches you chug half of it, meanwhile nudging the inside of his cheek with his tongue. A classic sulking Jungkook pose.

“Oh my god, what? Are you mad I got to spend the day with her and you didn’t?”

He blinks, surprised, when he realizes that he’s actually not mad about that. Rather he’s mad you spent so little of the precious Saturday with him, though it wasn’t clear at first. To think that he’s jealous of Yoori is funny enough to break him of his brief pouting session.

“Yeah,” he fibs, “but it’s fine.” He scoots clumsily nearer next to you. “You’re here now and there’s still the rest of the weekend.”

“That’s true. But I don’t want to play Zelda. Let’s do Mario Kart?”

“Loser each round has to take a shot and winner picks the next course?” He’s already stumbling his way back to the kitchen to pull the tequila bottle someone left in his fridge a while back and a pair of plastic shot glasses.

“Is there any other way?”

It takes three rounds, the first two of which are Rainbow Road, but you quickly catch up to him in terms of tipsiness level. Your whole body feels like its vibrating, and the tequila makes it seem like your blood is carbonated. Like you could float away at any moment. By a streak of luck and then redirecting to Bowser’s castle, you manage to get in the winning position. You’re on a roll and get cocky enough to start gloating, egging Jungkook’s underlying competitive nature on.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath as you cross the finish line 9 seconds before him. His stomach feels sloshy after four shots and the bottles of beer he downed earlier. You slam down his, now full, shot glass in front of him, spilling some of the clear liquid onto the table.

“That’s like, what, your fourth one? No, wait, it’s your fifth one. My bad.” You stick out your tongue as you perch next to him, pressing yourself to his back and reveling in the way he grimaces at the shot. “If I had known you would make the game so easy, I would have stayed out with Yoori.”

You’re so busy teasing him about his slow gaming reflexes that you don’t notice the way his smile twitches after he downs the drink. He moves uncharacteristically fast and all you can do is sit there as he tosses the tiny plastic cup to side and then turns to lunge at you. Your back hits the couch cushion with a soft thud and your breath leaves you in a whoosh. If it had just been him caging you into the couch because he was fed up with your taunting, it would be fine. But the moment his fingertips dig into your sides, you lose it and start thrashing.

Jungkook knows better than anyone else that you’re a wild tickling victim, all flailing knees and elbows. Truly a danger to anyone who dares to tickle you. But he’s still smart despite being five tequila shots and a few beers in and uses his bulk against you to keep your movement to a minimum. Perhaps it’s a little cruel to take it out on you, but he still can’t get over the selfish simmering of regret at not suggesting you ditch Yoori in favor of letting him spend the day wrapped up in you. He missed you, is what it really boils down to.

“No,” you cackle underneath him, “No, please! Jungkook this isn’t fair. Please!”

He merely flashes you his teeth in a mean grin and continues until your eyes are shimmering with unshed tears and you’ve stopped squirming so you can keep your bladder in check.

“Jungkook, please,” you beg softly in surrender, toes curling.

Maybe it’s the angle. Maybe it’s the pleading voice you’re using, maybe it’s the sparkly quality of your eyes, or the fact that you smell like lavender. The color, not the flower, he notes. Whatever it is, his eyes fall closed automatically and he leans in to slot his mouth over yours. It’s a slow kiss and even though his tongue swipes across the seam of your lips, it has a chaste feeling still. You wriggle your arms out from under his weight and push him off you slowly. Thoughts of Yoori float around in the back of your mind and you can’t turn them away without feeling awful.

“We can’t get into anything today,” you snap and smooth out your skirt. “I got my period while I was out.” You wince when the lie comes out, but you don’t know if there’s any other way to put enough distance between you so you can keep your head straight.

He watches you look around until you spot your overnight bag at the end of the room. “Are you leaving?” His tone bleeds annoyance and takes on a sharp edge.

“Yeah,” you say like it’s obvious. Because it kind of is and the longer you stay, the weaker your resolve gets. “We can’t fool around if I’m on the rag.”

“Just because we can’t fool around, doesn’t mean I want you to leave.” He’s thinks for a second. “Do you want to leave?”

“Well, if we don’t fool around, I should probably go. Otherwise, why the hell am I here?”

His frustration flares up once more and you’re surprised that he’s as upset as he is. “Because I want you to be? And because maybe you want to be here too? Is that so weird? You said yourself this wasn’t anything to make a big deal of.”

“It’s not. But—”

“Then why the hell are you leaving?” He rakes both hands through his hair until he looks frazzled and barks out a sarcastic laugh. You’ve never seen him so angry with you before and strangely your first instinct is to get angrier.

“As opposed to sticking around? To do what?”

“I don’t know. Anything? We could play Mario Kart until our eyes bleed. You could let me practice kissing you and feeling you up all night. Or we could just be silent and drink until we both pass out. I really don’t care just…tell me what you want. Just stay if you want to stay.”

Your cheeks warm at his blunt words, but you put your bag down. He lets out a sigh of relief when you don’t charge out the front door, but he tenses up again when you head out the living room and only relaxes finally when he hears the shower start up. After nearly half an hour, you emerge looking squeaky clean and a little guilty in sweats. He’s not sure what the cause of the guilt is, but he tries not push. You shuffle over to stand in front of him, the sheepish curve of your shoulders making you look tiny.

You hesitate for a second before planting a knee on either side of his thighs and seating yourself in his lap. Your arms come to wrap around the breadth of his shoulders and you rest your cheek on top of his head.

“How was your day,” you mumble into the strands of his shiny chestnut hair.

He preens silently at the affection that he didn’t realize he’d been craving all day and his arms mirror yours. They come up to snake around your waist as he reclines a bit and shifts so he can relax into the couch without jostling you. Out of all of the things you’ve started physically doing with Jungkook, cuddling with him like this might be his favorite thing to do. There’s something incredibly satisfying about getting to bury himself in your scent and softness.

“Fine. Got my work done, skyped with RealiCorp. Met Tae for lunch. Tried to call you to see if you wanted to do dinner with us, but I guess you were busy. How was your time with Yoori?”

“It was,” you sigh, looking for the right word. “It was really fun. Honestly, its really nice to talk with another girl for a change. I’m glad we were able to.” He hums sympathetically and squeezes you a little tighter. “She’s really nice. You’ll be good together,” you admit.

He tenses a bit and changes the topic.

“I could fall asleep like this.” It’s the truth. The way your fingers run through his hair and the warmth of your breasts pillowing his head make him drowsy. Though he can’t focus on it as much as he’d like or else he’ll ruin the mood with an awkward boner.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, shifting so he can smile into your t-shirt.

“You’re so…” you can’t get the words out so instead you hastily smack a loud kiss onto his cheek.

It shocks both of you, but he doesn’t look put off. Instead, he merely adjusts his glasses, which you jostled with the force of your kiss. The gesture is so characteristically him that the floodgates open and you keep planting kisses on his face until he laughs and starts trying to catch your mouth with his own. He manages one or two cheeky kisses on your lips, but you swerve around enough to keep things PG. He huffs and keeps trying, one of his hands coming up to grab at your arm and keep you still. He leans forward, forcing you to lean back in his lap until you can’t anymore without risk of falling. When you clutch at his shoulders to maintain your balance, you’re right where he wants you.

Your eyes are squeezed shut as he brushes his nose against yours. It’s cute, he thinks. By now he knows in theory how you feel about period sex, but where’s the harm in kissing?

“Why are you being so shy? I just wanna kiss you,” he scoffs while attempting to nip at your bottom lip.

“Just kissing?” You open your eyes cautiously, lids at half-mast. He nods hurriedly, fingers drumming an impatient beat on the small of your back.

“O-Okay.” You barely get the word out before he’s swooping in with a low contented sound.

Making out just for the sake of making out reminds you of your time with your first boyfriend, the summer before college started. Only this is so much better because it’s Jungkook and because there’s no race to sex like there was when you were 18. Every press of lips is a deliberate choice and when you finally come up for air, somehow, you’re horizontal and are regretting the lie you told terribly.

He pulls away with a kiss-swollen pout and checks the time. When it’s an appropriate hour for bed and he suggests you both retire to the bedroom to watch TV before bed. You’re a little wary at first, but he’s a gentleman and doesn’t do anything untoward. He even lets you take control of his laptop and the HDMI cord while he writes continuously in his journal. You try to peer over at what he’s writing once you recognize it as his sex journal, but he pins you with such an offended look that you can only turn around feeling properly scolded without having actually been verbally addressed. You don’t think too much of the fact that he’s writing in it despite the fact that you haven’t done much in the amorous realm and he wrote on and off the entire day yesterday.

Even after you’ve watched three episodes of Elementary, he’s still writing. You unplug the computer and turn to look at him in his pretzel legged position. Every so often he’ll look over at you and then return to frantically writing in his journal. You try to engage him in an unspoken staring contest, but your eyelids drop closed and prevent you from winning. Only once it becomes clear that you’re trying to sleep does he wedge his journal underneath his half of the mattress and turn off the lights.

Passing through the weekend and into the next week doesn’t suddenly bring things back to normal. Instead it feels as though you’ve entered the twilight zone.

You and Yoori text on and off all of Sunday and into Monday to compare schedules and see when you can meet up for some quality girl time. This means that Yoori has started to come meet you outside your lecture halls when your classes end to walk to the library together and you arrive at your agreed meeting spots with her preferred coffee order. Your nails are holding up amazingly and you tell her so constantly while she smiles at how excited you are at something she often takes for granted.

Yoori suggested you have your your study sessions in the corner of the library coffee shop because the picture window shows all the light snow you’ve been getting and provides a nice form of visual ambiance to work to. Sometimes the guys attempt to crash the sessions. Often times you have to shoo them away by letting them take your ID card to stock up on hot chocolates with extra whip from the front counter. Your funds are depleting at an alarming rate, but it’s better to have the uninterrupted time with your first girl friend in a long time so you can get to know her better.

“So, are you going home during winter break,” you ask one day while typing away at the results section of a lab report. Yoori sits across from you in an oversized cashmere sweater you wish you could pull of half as well as she does. She’s been working silently for nearly an hour and you know she won’t take a break unless you distract her from the work.

At the sound of your voice, her head pops up instantly, her loose bun spilling out of its structure with the movement and cascading down her back. A freshman walking by the table nearly slams into a door trying to keep looking back at the same time. She closes her laptop, completely unaware of her effect on the people in the surrounding area.

“Yeah, I am. I haven’t in the past few years but my grandparents are coming from the countryside, so I should probably go this time.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you. I’m sure they’d all like to see you.”

“Are you going?”

“No,” you give a bittersweet smile as you play with the damp stirring stick next to your drink. “My family lives too far away for me to be able to go home and make the plane ride worth it. I’ll probably see them in the summer, though.”

“Won’t you be lonely? Do you want to come home with me?” Her brow furrows in sympathy and she reaches out to rub at your arm.

“No, that’s okay, I’ll be fine. It’s not my first rodeo, you know. Plus usually some, if not all, of the guys stick around since they live nearby but still want a break from their families during the day. But thank you though.”

“Okay, well there’s still time if you want to change your mind.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Are you almost done?”

“Almost. I’m waiting on my VASP energies to come in and then I can update my poster and I’ll be all set.”

“VASP? Since when do you do chemistry,” you get up to peer at her computer screen.

Yoori pats the open seat next to her and let her explain the very quick favor she’s doing with a professor she’s been in contact with since undergrad when she thought she would be pre-health.

“—So basically, now she’s just waiting to evaluate grain boundary energies to see if the electrolytes we’re using actually have the right structure to make a difference in hydrogen atom velocities. And I’m just here to help with some minor calculations.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

A small ping from your phone alerts you of an incoming text from ~JK~.

Is Yoori with you?

“Um, I think Jungkook is trying to reach you.”

“Oh! I keep my phone on silent during the day,” she explains and hurriedly switches on the volume before opening whatever texts he must have sent her before he texted you.

“Really?”

“I have yours set on urgent, though.”

You grin. “And why’s that?”

“Because! What if you send me another meme about neural networks? I can’t just let it rot away in my inbox.”

“No one appreciates my memes like you do.”

“Aren’t I great?”

“So great,” you admit with clenched eyes and fists for dramatic feeling.

“I wish I didn’t have to go. I’m enjoying you complimenting me.”

“Oh. Are you headed somewhere?”

“Unfortunately, yes. The energy files just arrived and I’m about to finish entering them. I think Jungkook wants to meet up to discuss things, so I’m just going to pack up now and meet him at the dining commons before the dinner rush kicks in. I’ll text you later.”

“Okay, sure.”

After Yoori packs up to leave, you consider texting Jungkook to ask what he plans on discussing with her, but it feels so clingy and invasive that you’re ashamed of yourself and force yourself to dive into work. The lab report is nearly done, but there are a few articles you could read to get further ahead in your classes. It takes a long while, and you work through the usual dinner time to do it, but you manage to finish thanks to having turned your phone off as soon as Yoori left.

When you turn it back on there are a few recent messages from Taehyung and Hoseok inquiring about late night munchies plans. You figure eating with them is better than eating soup alone in the middle of the nearby convenience store. And better than ignoring the messages in favor of going home early to have pity sleep for dinner. You text them back saying that you’ll meet them in 10 and pack your things up.

You arrive at the smoothie place feeling haggard and not ready to balance Taehyung’s energy and Hoseok’s chaotic existence. The bright side is that there is a medium chocolate shake sitting in the empty seat at the tiny high table they’ve managed to save. You greet them with a tired smile and immediately suck down the drink, reveling in the way the chocolate is already lifting your spirits a bit.

“You look like shit,” Hoseok greets you. Taehyung slaps his arm, but turns to you with concerned eyes.

“Are you sleeping?”

“Why are you guys acting like you don’t see me passed out throughout random parts of the day 80% of the time?”

“Because you don’t look like you do,” Hoseok quips. At your blank stare, he goes back to innocently sipping his guava juice. “Just looking out for you, buddy.”

“Yeah, well I slept all of this weekend, thank you very much. What about you guys? You get up to trouble at the Dairy Queen again? Is that why we’re here this time?”

Tae nods somberly. “Hobi put lit firecrackers in their dumpsters again. But this time he almost caused their elderly delivery guy to go into cardiac arrest.”

“Something is wrong with you.” Hoseok merely winks at you in response.

“The worst part is that I didn’t even have anything to do with it, but they still wouldn’t let me in, even when it was just me and Kook,” Taehyung whines.

Hoseok snorts. “Ok, that’s on you. You were my accomplice even though you technically didn’t touch the fireworks but people remember your face better than they do mine. Should have waited at least a week before trying to go back in there.”

“Wait, this was all in one weekend?”

“Yeah,” Tae reaches over and dips a fry into your cup. “The fireworks were Friday, after game night. And then we tried to go in on Saturday, but they wouldn’t let us in. We tried calling you and everything.”

“You’re mad at me now? It’s not like I could have helped you.”

“Yeah, you could have,” Hoseok corrects, gesturing to your general chest area. “You’ve got the tits for that sort of thing.”

“Why are we friends,” you ask him with a soulless smile.

“Because you won’t let me motorboat you.” His response is immediate and just as dry. It spooks you a little.

“Well, I’m gonna go. I would say it’s been fun, but it hasn’t.”

“Wait!” Taehyung scrambles out of his chair and helps you back into yours. “You can’t leave. Jungkook might be done soon and said he’ll try and meet up with us. It’ll be the first time we’ve all been out together in such a long time.”

“We literally saw her on Friday,” Hoseok groans and tosses his head back in what looks like a mini tantrum. You roll your eyes.

“That was at Kook’s house, that’s not ‘out’. It doesn’t count.” Taehyung turns to plead with you, eyes big and starry, with a comical pout on his face. “Please stay? For me? Ignore him. I do.”

“Hey!”

“Fine,” you sigh before shaking your empty cup. “But I need another one of these. And Hobi is buying.”

“Like hell I am.”

“Do I have to remind you that if it weren’t for you and your whipped cream fixation, I wouldn’t be in the red for dining dollars and I might be able to afford my own drinks from time to time? You owe me, Jung.” You try to poke his sternum menacingly, but he moves to snap his teeth at your finger and you quickly pull back with a shriek. He agrees, though its reluctantly at best.

While Hoseok waits in the line to order your refill, Taehyung scoots his chair closer to yours. Carefully, he attempts conversation.

“How are you holding up?”

“With what, work? It’s the same as always. Tedious.”

“No, I mean with…Did Kook not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“That he planned to officially ask Yoori out tonight,” his voice is quiet and uncertain.

“Oh. No, he didn’t tell me. But, it’s not like its our right to know. He’s an adult. H-how did you find out, though?”

“He told me.”

“And me,” Hoseok says as he sets down the second milkshake in front of you.

“I see.”

You start drinking on autopilot, too busy thinking about why Jungkook wouldn’t tell you such big news despite your being his best friend. You figure maybe he found out about your big fat crush on him and decided he’d rather tiptoe around you than have to let you down gently. Or maybe he just didn’t care enough about you enough to tell you these things now that Yoori was in the picture. What’s good is that the latter thought doesn’t make any resentment towards Yoori rise in your stomach. Instead you just want to curl up in a ball and wonder you did in your past life to deserve such a horrendous love life. Or, you suppose, lack thereof.

“He just shared his location. I think he’s on the way,” Taehyung tentatively disrupts you from zoning out any further.

If you hurried, you could probably take the campus shuttle home and be on your way home before Jungkook arrives, but part of you wants to see how he’ll explain his decision to you. You decide to stay because you don’t want to be anything less than supportive of his new relationship though it’s kind of crushing you in the process.

“Tell him to hurry up, then. You know what happens when I drink cold things,” your voice is light and a little bouncier than is appropriate and you know Taehyung knows what’s going on in your head. But Hoseok doesn’t and you don’t want him to.

Jungkook arrives 10 minutes later with Yoori in tow. She looks sheepish until she sees you sitting at the table and her dimples make an appearance. She runs ahead of Jungkook to envelope you in a hug. You’re still working on the physical boundaries of your friendship given that you’re not a huge fan of suffocation. Still, you pat her arm and let her get her fill before pulling back and offering up half of your chair. She gratefully accepts it and links arms with you immediately after settling down. Everyone scoots closer to open up more space and Jungkook pulls up a seat as well.

“It’s good to see you both, again,” Yoori chirps politely. Hoseok melts at the sound of her voice and beams at her. It’s gross.

“We’re good. It’s nice to see you so often now.” Taehyung chances a look at you. The initial shock of watching you and Yoori become fast friends apparently still hasn’t worn off. You don’t blame him but he’s so obvious about it.

“It is, isn’t it? You guys are just so fun to be around.”

“We like hanging out with you too, Yoori.” Hoseok’s voice climbs almost half an octave trying to sound so abnormally accommodating. Everyone else tries to contain their laughter. “You know, you still haven’t come visit me at the dance studio. I’m starting to get hurt feelings.”

“W-well, it’s just that I’ve been so busy and I still haven’t figured out a gap in my schedule when I can properly come see you. I’m very sorry,” she squeezes your arm unconsciously as she bows her head a little to him in apology. Your pulse picks up sympathetically for her.

“Hobi, if she wanted to see you do sweaty body rolls in an empty room, don’t you think she would have done it already?” When his smile twitches at your comment you add a quick, “I’m only trying to be realistic. I’m looking out for you, buddy.”

Yoori hisses your name in your ear, but you can tell that she’s trying not to smile at your sharp wit from her tone of voice.

“Anyway,” Hoseok starts up again, “Yoori, don’t you and Jungkookie have some good news to tell us all?”

Yoori’s cheeks redden at the sudden shift in topic and she looks to Jungkook for help. His face is similarly pink with embarrassment, but he still clears his throat like he’s about to make a toast.

“It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to say that I can’t do game night this Friday since I’ll be having dinner with Yoori in town.”

“You’re all welcome to join us, if you like,” she quickly amends. Your eyes widen and you swoop in to help Jungkook save face. You know it probably took him a lot to muster the courage to ask her out in the first place and if you don’t do anything, you know Hoseok will gladly wriggle his way in and ruin the date.

“Oh, we couldn’t possibly intrude on your dinner. But, thank you, for the offer. Right Tae? Right, Hobi?” Hoseok sulks but wordlessly agrees to stay out of their date.

“Yeah,” Taehyung jumps in to help you. “We’ll just have the game night at my place. I want to play cards anyway, instead of console games this time around.”

Everyone nods until the awkward air dissipates and all that’s left is the background noise of the diner and the sound of people finishing their drinks. The cold from your shakes starts to seep into your bones and you decide to use this as your exit ticket.

“Hey, sorry to ruin the fun, but I’m freezing and I didn’t bring a real jacket, so I think I’m gonna head home. You guys have fun without me, though.”

“You can just wear my sweater,” Jungkook pipes up and begins to pull the thick, woolen pullover he was wearing over his head. But you hold your hand up to stop him as you get down from your stool and collect your trash.

“No, Kook, you’re fine. I’m just gonna use the cold as motivation to get to the bus quicker. Have a good night, everyone.”

“It’s colder out there. At least take his sweater,” Yoori calls out to you. “For me,” she adds when you look like you’re thinking about it.

“Fine,” you huff as you take the sweater from Jungkook. You slide it on in front of everyone so they can have their worries assuaged. It’s still toasty from his leftover body heat and smells like his laundry detergent. He might not get it back for a while. “See? I’ll definitely be fine now.”

“Why don’t I go with you? I’ve still got a robotics assignment I have to work on. Plus, we can split cab fare instead of waiting for the bus.” Tae shrugs on his own coat and goes to stand by you.

“Okay.” You ignore his probing look until you finish waving to everyone and leave the restaurant.

Taehyung shoves his hands in his pockets as you request a ride home through an app on your phone. The silence is companionable, but the waves of pity and sympathy rolling off Taehyung are damn near palpable and you’re about to burst if you don’t address it.

“Just say what you’re thinking. I can practically hear it anyway.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m not 12. I’m not going to be devastated just because they’re going out on one date.”

“Yeah, but,” Taehyung hesitates for a bit, trying to cushion the blow, “You know it’s just a matter of time before they become official, right?”

“I know that too,” you wince when your voice cracks a little.

“If you ever need anything, you know we’re here for you.” You raise an incredulous eyebrow at the implication that Hosoek would do anything less than laugh in your face if you came to him looking for comfort. “Well, I am, at least.”

“I know, Tae. Thank you.” You let him wrap you in a one-armed hug, but don’t let him pull away so you can steal his warmth as you wait for your car to arrive.

Yoori’s apartment is nicer than anything you’ve ever seen. So much so that you have a hard time believing that you even live in the same town. It’s technically not your first time visiting her building and you’ve called many a late night cab from her plush lobby. You’ve even started to make small talk with her doorman since you’re there so often. But something was keeping you from coming up and visiting her actual apartment. All the times you’d hung out off campus had been at your place or at Jungkook’s place. There had been a lull in all that since Jungkook announced that they’d be going on a date only a few days prior.

After that fateful day, it was hard to act like there hadn’t been subtle changes in the way people were acting. Jungkook was suddenly super busy or always at the gym and couldn’t ever pick up your calls. And when he did return them it was only when you were dead asleep and couldn’t pick up your phone. For that, you were actually kind of grateful because you were certain that the next time you saw him on your own, he would try to break it to you that he couldn’t return your affections and that you could no longer be friends.

Taehyung and Hoseok, on the other hand, were still somewhat normal, but Hoseok was too excited about Yoori’s unofficial entry into the friend group and Taehyung kept soft-touching you like he could take up your pain through osmosis. Yoori was the only one who hadn’t suddenly turned weird and it was only because she wasn’t aware of the chaos floating around you all.

When she’d asked you to come shopping with her on the high street, you had a hunch that it was so she could get some new outfits for the many date nights with Jungkook ahead. You didn’t expect her to try and rope you into buying things as well, though you managed to get out it by truthfully explaining to her that Taehyung and Hoseok were still using your student ID like it was a credit card in someone else’s name and you had to be frugal as a result. But just when you thought you were in the clear as you approached her building, she invited you up to help her style the stuff she bought and stick around for dinner. To keep from having to explain yourself, you said yes.

But you instantly regretted it as you stood in the middle of her chicly decorated bedroom with picture windows and realized that despite the fact that you were extremely fond of Yoori, there was still a very small part of you that wished you had her life. It felt juvenile and reminded you that even after you stopped being a teenager you still had a ton of self-esteem issues left to address. The sooner you finished helping her with her outfits, the sooner you could maybe curl up on her couch and down the bottle of wine you bought while you were shopping earlier.

“I don’t think I like this one as much now that we’re not in the store anymore.” Yoori frowns at her reflection from inside the walk-in closet. The fact that she had a walk-in closet did not surprise you, but your mouth still dropped open when you the little seating area and the full-length panel of mirrors inside of it.

You finish picking out an alternative and then call out to her. “Come out and let me see it?”

She emerges in a short and slinky dress that would be perfect if it weren’t for the way it slouched at the neckline. It seemed intentional in the store with the way the salesman was pushing hard for her to buy it, but now it looked oddly frumpy.

“I think I see what you mean. Turn?” She obeys and turns gracefully, the skirt flaring out around her hips. “Why don’t you try these? They’d look amazing with that red blouse you wore when we went to the movies that one time.” You hand her some satiny trousers that she picked up on a whim but ended up really liking. If she paired them with red, Jungkook’s favorite color, he’d eat his heart out.

“You’re right, I think this is the one,” Yoori smiles widely at you and comes out with two pairs of shoes in her hand. Silently you point to the pair that would go better with the outfit, the ones with a subtle gold traces etched into the stiletto heel.

“If you want, you can wear your hair in a ponytail. Show off your neck, he’ll like it.”

“Really?” She laughs, slightly bashful. “Is he a neck guy?”

“For you? He’s a neck guy, hand guy, lips guy, ass guy. You name it.” As soon as Yoori hangs up her outfit for the date and puts it on her closet door, you flop face first into her bed, exhausted in so many ways.

“Why do you know so much about his, um, preferences? Is he vocal about that sort of thing?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” your voice is muffled by her bedspread.

“And are you not vocal about that sort of thing, then?”

Luckily she can’t see your face as you roll the question around in your head. You’re no prude and if it weren’t for the unfortunate series of events that is your life, you would love nothing more than to swap sex stories with Yoori as a form of bonding. But given that you can’t and you don’t really want to end up having to listen to her talk about sex with him when it comes, you decide one more white lie won’t hurt.

“I’m just a really private person, so I don’t really do that.”

“Good to know,” she chuckles and you miss the disappointed look on her face when she realizes she won’t be able to share with you. Although, it would make sense that you wouldn’t want to hear her talk about your childhood best friend like that. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Sleep.”

“Are you tired? How about we take a rain check and think about it again in a few hours? I’m gonna go come up with some slides for my coding class, but you’re welcome to nap in here and I’ll wake you up before it gets too late.”

“That…sounds great. Thanks, Yoori.”

“No problem.”

You wait until she closes her bedroom door and you’re certain you’re alone. When the sound of the soft music that she plays when she works drifts through the speakers in her living room, you crawl up to the head of the bed, get under the covers, and cry into the pillow. The sleep that follows is amazing though and you think it’s half because your body was running on fumes and half because Yoori has the best mattress you’ve ever slept on.

#bangtan bookclub #bttnetwork #networkbangtan #btswriters #bts scenarios #bangtan scenarios #bts fanfction #bangtan fanfic #bts imagines #bangtan imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine

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fairytail-multishipper · 6 years

Note

I have returned with a few questions about your OC: First, what do they look like? I kinda wanna draw them (even though my art isn't the best :'3) Also, what is their personslity like? What's their backstory? And, (please don't judge me for this) would you maybe wanna do an OC roleplay with me?

I’d absolutely love for someone to draw her, I can’t draw for shit!

Appearance) (Note I based her appearance off of my own, at least build wise) Ash is a slim, young woman with an ample bust and tan skin. She has long, shoulder length auburn red hair. Her hair is fairly curly, and is pretty thick and wavy. Ash has large, different colored eyes. Her left eye is a bright orange, while her right is a light blue shade. She also has visibly long eyelashes. She possesses a very voluptuous figure, with large breasts and curvy hips, which, over time, steadily become more defined. Her white Fairy Tail stamp is located on her left shoulder blade. Ash’s fingernails, while usually shown to be cut back and uncolored, but are sometimes kept long and adorned by nail polish of different colors.

When Ash was first introduced into the series she wore a light, vermillion colored, short, spaghetti-strap dress. Over the dress, she had on a black corset. Under her dress, she wore black tights and brown boots, her right boot ends mid-thigh while her left ends low shin. She wore three brown bandages on both her arms, and a dark red, hooded cape, her hair was kept in a braid over her shoulder.

After joining Fairy Tail, she decided to soften her appearance and dressed in a light pink thigh-high spaghetti strap with hot pink patterns as well as a matching choker, and white ankle-high heels, and wore her hair down

.After about a year of being in Fairy Tail, she changes her appearance again, wearing a short, no sleeve, and purple dress, with a gray belt. Thigh-high black socks, brown ankle boots and a red coat, her hair cut short.

Later, after her hair grows out again, she wears a long sleeved teal dress with a gray bow tied around it and over her shoulder and a gray grater, white mid-shin black boots.

Later, after she goes on a year-long quest, she returns home wearing a dark purple and brown shirt, with black shorts, a black belt, brown ankle-high boots, and dark purple cape with small black patterns. (I couldn’t decide which design I liked better, okay)

Personality) Ash had a laid-back personality, but will get serious when the time calls for it. Despite her laid-back attitude, Ash is one of the more serious members of the guild: she hardly ever goofs off (except when she’s brawling with her guild mates”, unlike the majority of the other members, though she does love to have fun.She is very focused on the situation at hand. In the guild itself, Ash often assumes leadership in dire situations in a logical manner, she is extremely loyal to the guild and its members, regardless of how new they are or what their background may be, after all, she is no one to judge.In addition, Ash easily harbors guilt over harming a fellow guild member.Ash is also carefree and reckless in nature, and, despite her consistent brawls with the other members of Fairy Tail, she is a fiercely loyal and protective friend. She is willing to go down fighting for her friends, regardless of how futile it might seem.Ash has a cheerful and upbeat personality, and as such she is, rather easily, able to get along quite well with her guild mates. Her solution to problems often involve violence, if talking has on affect.Even when disrespected or faced with obvious hostility, Ash rarely ever reciprocates the feelings, and often forgoes grudge-holding.As a Dragonslayer, Ash suffers from motion sickness. This, however, does not apply to Satan, her exceed partner, as he is not a regular form of transportation.

Backstory) I have mostly everything planned out for that, but I haven’t written it down yet, but if you’d like I’ll make a post about that.

Also, (if you’re still reading this), I’d love to roleplay with you :)

#my oc #oc #ash whitestorm #ashley whitestorm #satan the exceed

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kamen-rider-zed · 6 years

Text

The Sleepover That Almost Wasn’t

Hey @blackshucksighted! (for some reason I can’t tag you) I’m you’re Secret Santa and here’s some fluffy Chloe/Alya/Marinette friendship coming your way!

Also some Season 2 spoilers so fair warning in case anyone’s not into that.

Marinette and Alya didn’t know what to think when Chloe asked them out to lunch, though it was more of a demand than a request. Normally she spent her lunch breaks with Sabrina or was otherwise attached at the hip to Nathanael. She didn’t spend much time with either of them, before or after they discovered each other’s identities. In fact, she seemed to spend less time with them after discovering her classmates were Ladybug and Rena Rouge. So imagine their surprise when Chloe not only invited them to lunch, but to an expensive cafe and offered to pay.

Once the server had brought their drinks and taken their orders, Chloe cleared her throat and announced, “Clear your schedules this weekend. As an early Christmas present, you two are coming to the hotel for a sleepover and to be among the first to experience Le Grand Paris’ newly renovated beauty salon and spa.”

Alya and Mari glanced at each other. “Doesn’t sound like you’re giving us much choice,” Alya said.

Chloe frowned down at her coffee as she stirred seven sugar cubes into it. “Stupid Pollen, stupid sweet tooth,” she muttered. She shifted her gaze from her cup to Alya and chuckled. “Of course you have a choice. You can turn me down if you wish, but why would you? I’m offering a weekend of rest and relaxation and you don’t have to pay a centeme.” Marinette opened her mouth, but stilled when Chloe held up a hand. “And before you say it, I’ve already negotiated with Chat, Carapace, and Bleu; they’ve agreed to handle patrols and Akumas for a few days.”

“Chloe!” Marinette snapped. She turned her head about, but found no one within earshot.

“Oh, simmer down, Mari,” Chloe snickered. “Thanks to Alya’s clever camera work and a few illusions, the three of us have airtight alibis.”

Marinette fidgeted in her seat. “Still better not to chance it.”

“Whatev.” Chloe waved a dismissive hand. “So, the three of us, a weekend at the hotel, doing nothing but relaxing and hanging out. What do you say?”

“Three of us?” Alya asked. “I thought you were spending Hanukkah with Nath.”

“Ended on Wednesday and as much as I adore his family, eight days is all I can take of both of his moms guilting me into eating more food. So with my schedule all clear, what do you say?”

(#)

The following Saturday, Marinette and Alya found limos rolling up to their homes just before noon, as Chloe promised. When they arrived at the hotel, Chloe’s butler, Jean Pierre, escorted them to the spa, where Chloe awaited them in a yellow satin robe.

“You’re here! So glad you could make it!” She threw her arms around each girl’s neck and planted a kiss on each of their cheeks. Marinette and Alya were a little taken aback by this sudden expression of affection, especially considering Chloe’s reaction the last time she had to kiss Marinette, but they awkwardly smiled and returned the gestures.

“Okay, we’re starting with a Swedish massage, so into the hot tub first, then Elias and his friends work their magic. After that, mani-pedis and facials, then up to my room for snacks and movies. Now, change into your swimsuits and I’ll have Jean take your bags upstairs.”

She shooed them into the locker rooms and slipped away to the jacuzzi to let them get undressed. The girls changed slowly, still not entirely sure what to make of Chloe’s abrupt change of heart.

“Think she feels guilty for bullying us for so long?” Marinette asked, slipping her arms through her pink bikini top.

“I don’t know,” Alya admitted. She hopped up and down on one foot trying to guide her other foot into her blue one piece. “I mean, she’s more than made up for it as…” She glanced around and dropped her voice. “As Queen Bee.”

“I know she has, but this almost feels like she’s bribing us for our friendship.

Alya stopped, her glasses half tucked into her bag. “Maybe she is, but maybe that’s all she knows. She doesn’t exactly have much experience with healthy friendships. I mean, look at how she treated Sabrina.”

Marinette plopped down on a bench and rested her forearms on her knees. “Yeah, you have a point. Maybe we should just see how this plays out?”

“That’s the spirit girl!” Alya nudged her with her elbow. “Besides, we haven’t had girl time in a while, and what better way to enjoy ourselves than with a full spa treatment courtesy of the mayor?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

They made their way through the spa to the hot tubs, where Jean Pierre awaited to take their bags. Chloe was beside one of the tubs in a yellow bikini, neatly folding her robe. She turned and smiled when she heard the two enter and gestured for them to slip into the tub. The girls slowly eased into the hot water and once everyone was in, Chloe gestured to Jean who pressed a button on the wall on his way out, activating the jets in the tub.

Marinette sank deeper into the tub and moaned, “Oh, this feels soooo good…”

Chloe closed her eyes and leaned back against rim of the tub. “Lavender and eucalyptus in the water to ensure we’re all thoroughly relaxed.”

Alya murmured something lost amidst the bubbles, but from her closed eyes and soft grin, it was clear she was enjoying herself. The trio sat in the tub, relaxing and chatting for about twenty minutes before Jean Pierre approached the tub with a pair of robes for Marinette and Alya. They reluctantly pulled themselves from the water and wrapped the robes around themselves.

Jean Pierre then led them to the massage tables where three men awaited. Chloe hopped up onto one of the tables, removed her bikini top and laid face-down on the table. The others, blushes on their faces, followed suit and laid on their own tables. The men started on their shoulders and neck, speaking in hushed tones to the girls and asking permission before touching them anywhere else. They progressively worked through every muscle on their bodies, the three girls finding themselves on the verge of nodding off multiple times.

“Pardon me,” came Jean Pierre’s voice from the door. “An Akuma has appeared near the hotel. We are relocating all guests to the safe rooms.” The masseuses nodded and exited the room while the girls pulled their swimsuits back on. “I shall personally escort your friends to the rooms, mademoiselle. I’m, uh, sure your father wishes to see you per-”

“It’s okay, Jean,” Chloe interrupted him with a small wave, not leaving her place on the massage table. “They know. I’ll take responsibility for their safety.”

He nodded. “Very well. In that case, I have brought extra pretzels for Mlle. Pollen if she needs them.” He left a small bag if the aforementioned snacks on the nearby table and left the room.

“Chloe,” Marinette said as she stood from her table and pulled on her robe. “How does he know your kwami’s name?”

Chloe simply shrugged and responded, “I told him I was Queen Bee about a week after getting my Miraculous.”

“You what?” Alya yelled.

“How do you think someone as high-profile as me has kept a secret identity for so long? He helps me with cover stories and alibis, same as Sabrina.”

Marinette shook her head, her eyes wide. “You told Sabrina too?”

“Never underestimate the power of a good support network.” She smiled, her eyes closed as she folded her arms beneath her head. “I wanted to tell Adrikins too, but Pollen drew the line there.”

“Tikki, Spots On!”

“Trixx, Ears Up!”

Chloe’s head snapped to her partners, freshly transformed and ready to leap out the window. “What are you doing? I told you the boys were handling Akumas this weekend!”

“I know you said that, but...I can’t just ignore people in need, Chloe,” Ladybug said. “I can’t afford to take a vacation.”

“But…”

“A half hour at most, and we’ll be back in time to finish the massage.”

Chloe glanced from her partners to her kwami floating nearby. “Ugh, fine! Pollen, Stripes On!” Yellow lights swirled around her and Queen Bee’s wings lifted her from the massage table. “Now, let’s take care of this Akuma and get back to relaxing.”

(#)

Well over an hour later, three figures slipped in through a window in Le Grand Paris’ spa. Orange light peeled Alya’s foxsuit away from her and she dropped onto a lounge chair beside one of the hot tubs. “Hawky hates us, doesn’t he?” she complained.

“Just be glad your transformation didn’t run out near the end of the fight,” Marinette said from Queen Bee’s arms, her bathrobe pulled up around her head. Bee set her down and she dropped onto the chair beside Alya. “At least I purified the akuma before my time ran out. Ugh, I feel all sweaty and gross, like I need another bath.”

Bee dropped her transformation and eyed the bubbling tub. “I think that can be arranged, Mari. A quick dip, then we can still make our appointment for mani-pedis. In the meantime, I’ll call Jean and have him send down snacks for our kwamis. Cookies for Tikki and...yogurt for Trixx, right?” Chloe smiled when the fox kwami nodded, but frowned again when saw the look Marinette gave her. She sighed and muttered, “I won’t mention your identities if you don’t want me to.”

After loosening their muscles in the hot tub, Chloe led the girls to the next stage of their relaxing weekend. In the next room, three women stood next to reclining chairs, and beside those chairs sat tables covered with various nail care tools, shades of nail polish, and small jars of a mysterious green substance. Each of them sat down, leaned back, and let their beauticians go to work. They each started with a face and scalp massage, then came the green substance, which Chloe explained was an all-natural facial mask made of avocado, yogurt, and honey.

Chloe and Marinette had just closed their eyes and settled into their chairs when they heard Alya yelp and her attendant cry out in pain. They glanced over and saw the woman cradling her nose, a thin line of blood running down her face.

“Oh my god!” Alya jumped from her chair, her hands clasped over her mouth. “I’m so sorry! I should have mentioned, you-you have to warn me before you touch my feet!”

“Since when are you sensitive about having your feet touched?” Chloe asked.

“Since I’m super-ticklish and I have two little sisters who play dirty.” Alya knelt down next to the woman nursing her bloody nose. “Again, I’m so so sorry.”

“Hey, uh guys?” Marinette said. “Um, my face feels a little tingly.”

“That’s just the facial cream cleansing your pores, mademoiselle,” one of the beauticians assured her.

“No, this doesn’t feel like cleansing.” Marinette sat up and waved her hands at her face. “In fact, it kinda itches. It itches and it burns and I’m dying and get it off! Get it off ah help ah AH!”

(#)

“So, I’m allergic to avocado. Good to know.” Marinette closed her eyes against the white light pouring from Tikki’s paws, healing the red rash spread across her face.

“At least that stuff wasn’t on your face for too long.” Alya sat beside her and rubbed her back with Trixx hovering over them, her tongue in one of the jars of facial cream, licking it clean. “Sorry this isn’t going how you hoped, Chlo.” She turned over her shoulder. “Maybe we could...Chloe?”

Chloe had her back to Marinette and Alya, her shoulders hunched and her arms wrapped around herself. Alya could tell she felt uncomfortable, probably because she felt like she accidentally poisoned her hero. With her enhanced fox hearing, she could just make out Chloe repeating to herself, “It’s okay. It’s okay. We can salvage this. We can make this work.”

“Everything okay, Chloe?” Alya called a little louder.

The blonde snapped her head around, reddened eyes on her friend. She sniffled and forced a smile onto her face. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m...Marinette’s rash is making my eyes water a little.” She held up her phone and added, “I’m just texting Jean to have our snacks delivered to my room. As soon as Tikki is done with Marinette, we can go upstairs and-” A short series of beeps from Chloe’s phone interrupted her. Upon checking the message, her face and shoulders dropped.

“What is it?” Marinette asked.

“Oh, uh,” Chloe snapped to attention and forced another smile. “Nothing! Nothing at all! Just Jean getting back to me about-”

“That was an Akuma Alert, wasn’t it?” Marinette turned her intense gaze to Chloe, whose eyes darted back and forth between her phone and her teammate.

“Uh...it’s, um…” Chloe finally caved and blurted, “Can’t we let the boys take care of this one?” Marinette sighed and passed another cookie to Tikki. “Come on, please? Paris will be fine for one battle, right?”

“Like I said, Chloe: I have a responsibility to this city. We have a responsibility. Now, let’s go. The sooner we take care of this, the sooner we can get back.”

Marinette and Alya transformed and leapt out the same window they’d entered earlier. Chloe sighed, her arms slumping in defeat. She called her own transformation, and as her wings lifted her off the ground, she muttered, “That’s what you said last time.”

(#)

Three hours. Three hours of chasing a speedster through the streets of Paris. Three hours and two lucky charms needed to capture Blur in a pool of sticky tar. Three hours the sushi tray, cheese and fruit platter, and champagne had been sitting out in Chloe’s room because she forgot to tell Jean to put them back in the cooler.

“Think we can salvage any of this?” Chloe asked.

Alya shrugged. “Put the champagne on ice and it’ll be fine in about twenty minutes. The fruit and cheese can be saved, maybe, but the sushi is gone.”

“Y-you sure?” Chloe looked desperate. “Maybe we can-”

“My mom’s a professional chef. I’ve had food safety rules drilled into my head since I knew how to walk.” Alya eyed the sushi platter and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not touching fish that’s been out of a cooler for that long.”

“And it looks like some of these rolls have avocado in them.” Marinette frowned at the dishes. “I couldn’t have eaten them even if they were-.”

Chloe drove her fist into the table, startling her companions. She ground her teeth together and squeezed her eyes shut because there was no way in hell she was crying in front of Ladybug. “I just...I just wanted one weekend. One! I just wanted one weekend to do something nice for you two!” She jerked away from the table and folded her arms over her chest. “But no. I can’t have that, can I? First an Akuma during our massage, then Alya breaks someone’s nose and I almost kill Marinette with a damn avocado. Then another stupid Akuma and I forget to tell Jean to...to…”

Alya and Marinette exchanged a worried and hurt glance. Marinette took a tentative step towards Chloe and gently rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I had no idea how much this meant to you.”

“It-it’s like you said in the changing room,” Chloe sniffed, glancing over her shoulder. “I feel horrible for treating you two like dirt for so long.”

“You heard us?” Alya asked.

Chloe nodded. “I’m not bribing you for your friendship, and I’m sorry if it feels that way. I...after learning you two were LB and Rena, I felt...I felt awful that I couldn’t be your friend on both sides of the mask. I felt like I should make things up to you, but everything’s gone completely wrong and the weekend is ruined and-”

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay, Chloe,” Marinette soothed. “You’re rambling. And unless I’m mistaken, Alya said the food is toast, not the weekend.”

Chloe shifted her eyes between them. “What do you mean?”

Alya smiled and planted her fists on her hips. “I mean all this weekend needs to get back on its feet is a change of venue-” she shot a sideways glance at the rancid sushi “-and a change of menu.”

Marinette nodded. “Gather what snacks you can save, pack your fluffiest, comfiest pajamas, and come to my house tomorrow. We’ll show you what friends really do on a relaxing weekend.”

(#)

Chloe had never felt more uncomfortable in her life. She sat in her car outside the Dupain-Cheng bakery for what seemed like an eternity before she finally climbed out and knocked on the side door. She was completely out of her element. No wait staff. No room service. No masseuse, no beautician, no Jean. But Marinette had promised her the most fun weekend she’d ever had, and she’d never lied to her before.

The secret identity thing totally didn’t count.

Marinette answered the door wearing fuzzy slippers and satiny pajamas, both in a shade of pink Chloe would have found obnoxious if it wasn’t just so ‘Marinette’. Rather than greet her with the short kiss on the cheek Chloe had used at the hotel, Marinette threw her arms around her neck and pulled her into a tight hug. Chloe stiffened in the embrace and when she felt it, Marinette jerked away.

“I’m sorry, Chloe! I don’t want you to make you uncomfortable or anything…”

“No no, I’m...just not used to you hugging me.”

Marinette smiled. “Okay, I’ll try to keep the shows of affection a little less enthusiastic, but so you know, I can’t speak for Alya. She’s a serial snuggler.”

They ascended the stairs to Marinette’s bedroom, and Chloe marvelled at just how small and...cozy her room was. Everything was pink and tidy and cute and just as ‘Marinette’ as her pajamas. Alya, wearing red flannel pajamas that matched the shirts she commonly wore, already had several blankets and cushions strewn about the floor and a table sat nearby ladened with all sorts of snacks: not only cookies and pastries from the bakery, but chips, pretzels, and other junk food from a convenience store. Alya jumped up the moment Chloe entered the room, and true to Marinette’s warning, lifted her from the ground with a mighty hug. The moment she released Chloe, Marinette scolded her for being a little too rough with their guest and Chloe swiftly changed into her pajamas while her hosts were distracted.

Marinette smirked at the silky red and black spots adorning her friend. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Ladybug is still my favorite superhero, thank you,” Chloe said, sticking her nose up in the air.

“Yeah, I figured as…” Marinette trailed off when she saw a yellow head poking out of Chloe’s bag. “Is...that your teddy bear?”

Chloe’s face immediately reddened and she snatched the bear from her bag, clutching it to her chest defensively. “His...his name is Mr. Cuddly. He helps me sleep at night.”

Marinette smiled. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed, Chloe. I can’t sleep unless I have my huge cat pillow with me-” she glared at Alya “-which I totally had before I met Chat Noir!”

“Uh huh, yeah. Then explain the Chat Noir doll.”

“I’ll explain the Chat doll if you explain your turtle plush.”

Alya’s face turned red as she stammered, “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Marinette grinned wickedly and sprinted to her friend’s bag, pulling out a well-worn stuffed turtle. “Wha-where? How did Shelly get in there?”

“I convinced Etta to sneak it into your bag while you weren’t looking.” Alya leapt across the room and attempted to snatch the doll away from Marinette. “Admit you like Carapace and I’ll give it back!”

Chloe sat with Mr. Cuddly still held close to her chest, in awe at the impromptu game of Keep Away. She knew Alya and Marinette would have enjoyed the full spa treatment if fate hadn’t decided to show its ass, but they seemed so much more at ease in this setting: something small, intimate, humble. Personal. That was the word: personal. Everything around them had been assembled with love, from the snacks, to the makeshift bed scattered on the floor, and it occurred to Chloe, after Alya had retrieved Shelly from Marinette, that maybe that’s what real friendship is: it’s small, personal, built with love. Chloe smiled, the realization lifting a weight from her shoulders she hadn’t known she’d been carrying. She finally understood. She finally understood what friendship truly meant.

“So, uh,” Chloe finally spoke up, “what’s on the itinerary for this sleepover?”

Alya chuckled. “Itinerary? Chlo, you don’t plan fun, it just happens.”

Okay, she still had a few things to learn about sleepovers, but it’s still progress.

“Yeah, whenever me and Alya hang out, we basically do whatever we want: play video games, braid each others hair, paint our nails, talk about boys-” Alya cleared her throat “-and girls.” Chloe lifted an eyebrow and Marinette whispered, “She’s bi.”

Alya nodded. “We could play Truth or Dare, watch bad movies, whatever you want to do, Chlo.”

“Why would we watch bad movies?” Chloe asked.

Alya looked at Chloe as though the answer should be obvious. “To make fun of them! And I know Queen Bee’s rapier wit could be put to use there.”

And utilize it they did. They picked out a particularly bad American film about Santa getting kidnapped by aliens and Chloe tore it apart. All three of them were kicking about the floor, laughing until they cried, their kwamis flitting about with laughter above them. Next, Marinette taught Chloe how to braid hair, and introduced her to just how luxurious Alya’s hair was.

Soon after they’d started painting each other’s toenails, Alya’s phone chimed with an Akuma Alert. Chloe looked to Marinette, tension in her heart that only increased when the girl transformed, but it vanished when Marinette contacted Chat Noir and asked him and the others to handle the villain themselves. After Chat gave his Lady his word they’d do her proud, she dropped her transformation and continued to apply a thin coat of pink to her toes. Chloe smiled. They were finally going to have their weekend.

Alya stuffed another handful of chips into her mouth and said, “Ukeh, Cloeh, Troof uh Dehr?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, fox!” Chloe scolded, her eyes focused on the brush applying peacock blue polish to her nails. “But in any case, Truth.”

Alya swallowed and asked, “Who’s cuter: Nathanael or Plume Bleu?”

Chloe blanched. “Oh, that is so not fair! Isn’t there some rule that lets me change my decision once?”

“Okay, okay. You can switch to Dare if you want.”

“Fine.”

“I dare you to answer my Truth question.”

“Oh, screw you! Why are you even asking me this?”

Alya propped her chin on her fist and grinned. “You guys give me hell for my ‘crush’ on Carapace when I’m clearly dating Nino. And I’ve seen the way you look at Bleu. I think you have a thing for redheads, Chloe.”

Chloe blushed and answered, “Nath. Bleu’s cute too, but his preening and grandstanding can get a little annoying after a while.”

“Is that the only reason you like Nath better?” Marinette teased.

“Oh not you too! Besides, it’s my turn. Truth or Dare, Alya!”

“Fine. Dare.”

Chloe grinned. “I dare you to kiss Carapace next time you see him.”

Alya paled. “No way! I’m switching too.”

“Okay.” Chloe thought for a second until her eyes landed on Shelly. “Why do you have a turtle plush if you don’t have a crush on Carapace?”

The games continued like that for the next few hours, until nighttime had claimed Paris. The three of them joked, laughed, ate, and teased Chloe when they learned she had never had a potato chip before. As their energy wound down, Marinette went down into the kitchen and came back with three mugs of hot apple cider. Alya gathered some blankets and led the trio onto the balcony, where they lounged and chatted, gazing up at the Christmas stars.

“Thank you.”

Alya and Marinette turned their heads at Chloe’s barely whispered words.

“You two have no reason to be nice to me, after all the trouble I’ve given you, so I wanted to thank you for showing me what real friendship is like.” Chloe snuggled deeper into her blanket and inhaled the spice-ladened scent of her cider. “This entire night makes me feel like we should have been friends a long time ago. Maybe if I’d gotten my head out of my ass sooner, we could have.” She smiled. “I think that’s what I wanted this weekend to be. I wanted to make up for lost time.”

“I think we’ve done a good job of that,” Alya winked. “Don’t you, Mari?”

Marinette nodded. “This has been a fun night. But we’re still not done! Tomorrow morning, we get to eat Papa’s famous Christmas crepes and open presents and-”

The call of Notre Dame cracked through the night, cutting off Marinette’s words and making all three girls jump. They exchanged glances then broke into giggling fits as the bells continued to toll the midnight hour.

“Correction: today we get to do all that.” Marinette smiled at her friends. “Merry Christmas, girls.”

Chloe returned the smile, tears burning at the corners of her eyes, because here on her best friend’s balcony in the middle of the Parisian winter, she had never felt warmer in her life. “Merry Christmas, Marinette.”

#mlsecretsanta #chloe bourgeois #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #alya cesaire #ml spoilers #zed writes

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nishinoyyaa · 7 years

Text

Sugar Cookie; Chapter 2 Tendou x Reader coffee shop au

Sorry this chapter took so long! I worked really hard on it, so I hope it was worth the wait. You can read chapter 1 here, enjoy!

Yellow sunlight filters in through the long windows of Lili’s Beans and Bakery. The Friday evening rush has passed, now all the tables are full. Jackets hang from chairs, books sit open, the smell of coffee fills the shop. The whole shop buzzes with comfortable chatter. Yuu rests his elbows on the bar, a full mug next to him. He comes in every Friday, the day Ryuu and Satori work together.

All week, Satori has been sneaking bits about the girl he met to his friends, and he’s been patiently waiting to see her again. She hasn’t come in since Monday, and although he’s been keeping an eye out for her on campus, he hasn’t spotted her. Much to his frustration, he’ll catch his eyes lingering at the door, and his head will snap towards it whenever the little bell chimes. He internally scolds himself for being so attracted to her. He’s only just met her, but, he can’t stop the weird way his heart stutters when he thinks he’s seen her, or the way it sinks when he realizes it’s not her.

Satori stands facing the sink, drying freshly washed mugs. Ryuu pulls up a stool to sit at the counter, across from Yuu. “So, who’s this girl you have a crush on?” He asks.

“I do not have a crush on her,” Satori replies, rolling his eyes and turning to face them. He crosses to the register. “I’ve only spoken to her once,” Yuu raises his eyebrows, a smug smile growing on his face “I don’t have a crush on her…but it would be nice to see her again,” he confesses, looking away from the two.

“Ya boy is crushin’” Yuu laughs, leaning back in his seat. Ryuu smacks Satori on the back with a loud laugh.

“She was super cute,” he tells his friends earnestly, one hand resting on the counter, his other on his hip “funny, too,” he adds with a dramatic sigh.

“Has she come in since Monday?” Yuu asks. Satori shakes his head.

Ryuu asks, “Have you seen her around campus?”

“No!”

“Maybe she hated the coffee, you scared her off,” Yuu jokes.

“No way! She liked it. She told me it was ‘very good.’ I bet she was blushing too!” Satori argues.

“Did you see her blush?” Ryuu asks, a skeptical eyebrow raised.

“A man can dream, Ryuu.” Satori lifts his hands in defeat, shaking his head with a laugh. His friends boisterously cackle.

“I’m sure she’ll turn up, don’t worry about it,” Ryuu says to him genuinely, nudging him in the arm.

Satori shrugs, his expression less than hopeful. “Maybe,” he can’t explain what he’s feeling. He’s only spoken to this girl once, yet, he feels so drawn to her. He wasn’t apprehensive or nervous, he felt so comfortable talking to her. Is this creepy? Am I being creepy? Is it weird that I’ve been thinking about her? Questions that he’s too afraid to answer chew on his brain. Satori is uncertain about what he’s feeling, but he is certain that he wants to talk to her again. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He sighs, walking into the back and taking off his apron. Yuu and Ryuu’s eyes follow him, and they share a look of concern when he steps through the door.

As if on cue, as Satori pushes the door to the back open, the familiar tinkle of the bell floats through the shop. The air outside is cold, but her presence is warm, like a ray of sunshine is held inside of her. A big, burnt orange scarf hangs around her neck, she unbuttons her coat as she steps through the doorway. She scans the shop, looking for an open seat. Her eyes land on the bar, the only other person sitting there is a boy in a beanie, and he’s talking to the tall, tan guy behind the counter. Hopefully he won’t mind if she sits at the bar too. She approaches the register, the tall guy meeting her eyes and giving her a flirtatious grin.

“Hey! What can I get started for you?” He asks her, standing and moving towards the register.

“Can I get a vanilla latte, please?” This tall guy looks like he’s the only one working, she must have missed Satori. A twinge of disappointment pokes her heart.

“Of course.” He answers with a wink. She laughs softly as she hands him her card, his fingers graze hers when he returns it to her. Thinking nothing of it, she hops into a seat at the bar, leaving one between her and the other boy. She pulls out her laptop and a notebook. As Ryuu fixes her drink, she buries herself in her work, typing quickly, looking from her papers to the screen.

Satori pushes open the door from the back, tying his apron. He huffs out a sigh, and lifts his eyes. And there she is. His heart nearly stops. Her eyes warm, cheeks pink, hair tucked behind her ear. She sits at the bar, right in front of him. Her laptop open, glancing from her notebook to her screen, completely focused on the words forming at her fingertips. She doesn’t notice him, Satori can’t tell if he’s disappointed or relieved. He is frozen in place, standing with his back slightly bent forward, his hands behind his back, clutching the knot he tied.

Out of the corner of his ear, he hears “Pssst!” His eyes snap to the left, to see Ryuu giving him a perplexed look. The two stare at each other for a moment, until Ryuu’s face lights up with realization.

He points to the girl, nonverbally asking, “is that her?” a goofy smile growing on his face.

Satori nods quickly, “yes, it is.” Yuu’s jaw drops.

Ryuu gestures towards to the drink he just prepared, and then to her, telling him “go give this to her!” Satori shakes his head frantically, his eyes widening in fear. Ryuu nods vigorously, his eyes mischievous.

“Satori,” he says too loudly, “can you give this vanilla latte to the young woman sitting at the bar?” Satori feels her eyes on him at once. He stands up straight, venomous eyes locked on to Ryuu.

“Of course,” he forces out with a wavering smile. With shaking hands, he takes the mug, and steps to where she is. Satori brings his eyes from the coffee to her, meeting her warm, happy gaze. He cannot help the genuine smile that appears on his face. He carefully places the mug next to her laptop. “Here you go,” he says to her.

“Thank you, Satori” she replies happily, a cute smile on her face. He sees her eyes dart from the latte to him a few times before she asks, “how have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while,” She holds the mugs in her hands, he notices she changed her nail polish from purple to red. Delight bubbles in his chest. She asked me how I am…

Before answering, Satori glances over to the two monkeys, they give him wide smiles. “I’m alright. What about you?” He places his palms on the counter, and leans in slightly. He’s mindful not to get too close, just close enough to catch the scent of her perfume.

“Busy. But y’know, what college student isn’t busy?” She giggles at her own comment. Satori breathes out a laugh and tilts his head, studying the way her eyes and nose crinkle when she laughs.

“It’s good to see you here at a normal hour,” he jokes.

“Six is still a little late in the day for a coffee,” she shrugs, taking a sip of her drink.

“Want me to make you a decaf?” He asks sarcastically. She laughs again, and his heart flutters.

“Hey, Miracle Boy, I’m going to clock out,” Ryuu says to him as he heads to the back. Satori can hear the smirk in his voice. “see you tomorrow at Yuu’s?” He asks, giving him a pat on the back.

Satori looks over his shoulder and gives Ryuu a toothy grin, “see you tomorrow.”

“See you!” Yuu calls to him, giving him several winks. Ryuu hurries out from the back and catches up with Yuu. He gives the pair a peace sign, they wave as they push open the door and walk into the night.

“Friends of yours?” she sets her mug down softly.

“Yeah,” he says with a chuckle “they’re great.”

She replies with a hum, and nods slowly. Satori glances at her. He clears his throat and asks, “what are you working on this time?”

“A short story,” she chirps, “I’ve only been writing for school for the past week, it’s nice to write for me,” she says softly, her eyes falling to the pages of her notebook.

“Hm, a short story? About what?” He pulls over the stool that Ryuu had, and sits down in front of her. He tilts his head to the side, his head resting in his hand, looking at her sideways.

“It’s a murder mystery, like one of those ‘the butler did it’ stories.”

“Does the butler actually do it?”

“We- “

“Wait! Don’t tell me. I don’t want any spoilers.”

She laughs, her eyes sparkling. She lifts a hand to cover her mouth. “I’ll let you read it when I’m done,” she says. Their eyes meet. It’s comfortable, it almost feels like they’re holding hands.

The little bell rings, and it sends a pang of annoyance through Satori. It must have shown on his face, because she giggles quietly at him. His chest feels a little colder when she moves her gaze from him to her laptop, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she does so. Satori pushes himself up from his seat, his arms hanging at his sides as he walks to the register. He forces politeness and says to the customer, “Hi, what can I get for you?”

As he fixes that order, a small line begins to form, and Satori becomes busy with the work. As others start to leave he wipes down the tables after them, bringing the empty mugs to the sink to be washed, and keeping up with the slow flow of customers. He sneaks glances at her, their eyes catching each other’s for half a second, ghosts of smiles grazing their faces. An hour has passed by the time he returns behind the counter to sit down.

With a sigh, he sits on the stool, cracking his neck. He looks at her. She closes her laptop, and looks back at him. “Mind if I get a hot chocolate to go?” she asks him. She pushes her laptop to the side, and rests her elbows on the brown marble of the bar. She bats her eyelashes at him.

Satori breathes out a laugh. He stands from his stool and bats his eyes right back at her. “Sorry, one drink per customer. That’s the rule,” he says to her, leaning in just a little.

She huffs out a chuckle, then furrows her brows. “Really?” she asks.

“Yeah, really,” he nods his head.

She squints her eyes at him. “Shut up, you’re joking,” she rolls her eyes at his shit eating grin.

He turns to open the cabinet above the sink, “you want it to go?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she answers. The sound of her putting her things away dims his mood. As he mixes her hot chocolate, she stands and walks to the register, her bag hanging from her shoulder.

He stands in front of her, she reaches into her bag, “it’s on the house,” he says with a smile, silently wishing he could have had at least another moment with her.

She looks up at him with wide eyes, “you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he hands her the cup, as she takes it her fingers brush against his. The feeling rushes into him to quickly for him to even try to suppress it. His cheeks light up, and his heart hammers in his chest like a bird trapped in a cage. She looks up at him tender eyes, the corner of her lip turned up softly.

“Thank you, Satori,” she says, taking the cup into her grasp. His hand falls to his side.

“You’re welcome,” he hums, swallowing hard.

She smiles at him once more, and he returns it. “See you around,” she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear before turning away. Her hair bounces as she walks to the door, Satori’s eyes following her the whole way. She opens it and ventures out into the cold.

The rest of Satori’s shift drags by. The sun dips behind the horizon, the air outside grows colder. As the clock nears nine, the shop clears out, until the only one left is Satori. He glances at the clock above the sink, eight forty-seven. I can probably clock out early, no one is here. He runs a hand through his hair, and walks into the back.

He slips off his apron, and swiftly signs out on the time in/out sheet on the door. He picks up his book bag and pea coat. Satori pulls on his coat and flicks the light in the back off. He pushes through the door and tucks one strap of his book bag over his shoulder. He turns the lights above the counter and bar off, and he heads for the door, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

The tinkle of the bell pulls Satori’s gaze up from the floor, to the door. He is met with the last thing he expected to see. She stands in the door way. Her hair tousled by freezing wind, her cheeks and nose red, her eyes wide and fierce. She breathes heavily, her chest rising and falling.

They stare at each other for a moment. What the? Satori opens his mouth to say something, but before he can speak, she says,

“Satori, would you like to go get dinner? With me?” she asks firmly.

The question nearly knocks him over. He stands, stunned, wide eyed. “Like…a date?” God, I’m an idiot.

“Yes, a date,” she answers.

His mind races to comprehend wat is happening. Before his brain can catch up he says, “Yes. I would love to.”

She smiles at him, fully, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s seen.

#Tendou Satori #tendou satori x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines #I wrote this #this is mine #haikyuu coffee shop au

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rinnnyxr · 4 years

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Bold what you relate(d) to/what you were like/are like.

Infancy 1. I was born by cesarean section. 2. I was completely bald as a newborn. 3. I was a pretty tiny baby. 4. I cried a lot, almost all the time. 5. I was a cholicky baby. 6. My mom carried me in a sling. 7. I didn't know how to pet our cat right, so I pulled his hair. 8. I can remember some of my first holidays, especially Halloween and Christmas. 9. I didn't like being separated from my mom. 10. My baby blanket was sea-foam green.

11. If I had been a boy, I would've been named Zane or Joseph. 12. I was born on May 1st. 13. The worst illness I got was roseola. 14. My first stuffed animal was a teddy bear. 15. I can recall my mom singing me to sleep. 16. I was breast-fed. 17. My being born helped my dad become more mature. 18. My mom sewed a lot of clothes for me. 19. The first movie I saw was Aladdin. 20. My first pet dog was a German Shepherd.

Childhood 1. My sister was born when I was almost 2 years old. 2. I grew up without commercial television. 3. I had a giant collection of stuffed animals. 4. I loved reading stories with my parents before bedtime. 5. We got a different German Shepherd as a pet. 6. We also went through a lot of pet cats. 7. I was homeschooled for kindergarten and 1st grade. 8. I'm still friends with my first best friend. 9. I loved drawing, particularly dragons and horses. 10. My first horse was very old. 11. I preferred listening to oldies rather than things like The Backstreet Boys or N*Sync. 12. I hoped to grow up to be an author. 13. I often wrote short stories but never finished them. 14. I kept a diary. 15. I believed in Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny. 16. I took swimming lessons. 17. I was extremely shy. 18. One of my favorite books was The Little House in the Big Woods. 19. I loved to play games on our computer with my dad. 20. ^^ However, I never owned one of the older gaming systems... just a very old computer.

Pre-Teen Years 1. I was still extremely shy. 2. I discovered the convenience of the internet. 3. ^^ However, we only had dial-up. 4. I switched schools a few times. 5. I was shocked how much other kids talked about sex. 6. I was self-conscious about my looks. 7. I became really interested in anime/manga. 8. ^^ I didn't really read/watch much else. 9. My dad passed away. 10. I was really into drawing and was becoming very good. 11. My hope was to someday become a comic artist/author. 12. I got a PS2 and was really into video games, such as Final Fantasy. 13. I had a best friend with the same name as me. 14. I didn't have a very good diet. 15. We got another dog, an Australian Shepherd. 16. We began considering remodeling our house. 17. I played clarinet and was a part of my school's band. 18. I wanted to learn Japanese. 19. ^^ I also wanted to go to Japan very badly. 20. I had zero fashion sense.

Teenage Years 1. We moved into town for a while. 2. I had commercial television for the first time. 3. ^^ As well as high-speed internet. 4. I had my first boyfriend. 5. ^^ And first kiss. 6. During freshman year, I loved high school. 7. I moved on from the anime/manga scene. 8. I got better at drawing but drew less often. 9. I had more friends. 10. My self-confidence got better. 11. I switched schools multiple times. 12. I started reading a lot more often. 13. I dyed my hair for the first time. 14. I cut my hair to an inch in length. 15. We remodeled our house and moved back into it. 16. My mom started dating someone new. 17. I started to really dislike high school. 18. I had a really bad breakup. 19. I left the country for the first time. 20. I started learning French.

Present (26 Years Old) 1. I'm really ready to move on from high school to college. 2. I want to learn guitar. 3. I'm trying to get back into drawing again. 4. I can be kind of cynical. 5. I want to dye my hair a crazy color. 6. I want to learn more French... 7. ... As well as many other languages. 8. I also want to see the world. 9. I haven't decided what I want to do for a living. 10. My sister is one of my best friends. 11. One of my favorite things to read is mythology. 12. I reaaallly love classical literature. 13. I'm giving up regretting and holding grudges. 14. I'm a virgin... 15. ... and I'm waiting for someone really special to change that. 16. I can be too nice... 17. ... which makes a lot of odd guys very attracted to me. :S 18. I love fashion. 19. I have a great relationship with my mom. 20. I want try living in an apartment, at least once.

APPEARANCE: i’m smaller than most of my friends my feet are small one of my parents/siblings has the same hair color as me my hair is naturally straight

i think i have nice arms/hands i tan easily

none of my parents/siblings has the same eye color as me

i have dimples

my forehead is big

i wear contacts/glasses i’m ginger and i have freckles

BEAUTY: i hate shaving

i go on manicure/pedicure

i do my eyebrows

i own at least one item from adidas and/or nike

i tattoed/pierced myself

i was on diet

i have pimples i do my makeup everyday

i love necklaces

i have/had dyed hair

i own 4 or more pairs of jeans i had undergone plastic surgery

DO I KNOW: how to dance limbo?

the story of how my parents met? how to swear in three or more languages? more than 3.14 of pi?

when’s my best friend’s birthday?

how to french kiss?

what goes after “in west philadelphia born and raised…”?

name all of Kardashians?

how to ride a bike?

I HAVE: made out made lasagna

slapped/punched somebody made a surprise party

smoked cigarettes

ridden on motorcycle

spent whole night without sleeping cooked a meal for somebody made it to the second base let somebody treat me like shit

been told that i was pretty/smart kissed somebody you didn’t feel attracted to cried after reading a book

WILL YOU EVER: go on university/college get married write a book

adopt a child

start a band

go on audition for a show

WOULD YOU EVER: do extreme sports? be without internet for a whole week?

forgive your significant other for cheating on you?

live without fast food for a whole year for 500 00$?

jump from Eiffel Tower for 1MIL$?

live like amish for 1 year for 500 000$?

sing in front of your whole school for free netflix for the rest of your life?

make out with your best friend’s significant other for 800$?

SOCIAL MEDIA: do you have friends on facebook that you never met in real life? do you have tumblr best friend?

did you ever post photo of your meal on instagram?

did a celebrity ever replied/followed/retweeted you/your post on any social media?

do you have stardoll account?

have you ever stalked somebody on social media?

do your friends know your wifi password?

have you ever illegally downloaded music/movies/tv shows/books?

WHICH IS BETTER: nice shoulders or nice arms

collarbones or hipbones flat stomach or long legs

lips or eyes curly hair or straight hair

six pack or nice arms long eyelashes or nice eyebrows

funny or romantic

RANDOM: have you ever seen a cow in real life? did you ever swim in a river? have you ever talked to your pet? have you ever helped your friend get ready for a date?

have you been in a fist fight?

were you ever been in a love triangle?

have you ever had period cramps? did you put your name in the goblet of fire?

*LOVES* 1. Netflix 2. Apple cider 3. Sephora 4. Self-help books 5. NYLON Magazine 6. Family Guy 7. Sunglasses 8. The Big Bang Theory 9. Last.fm 10. Forever 21 11. Shoulder bags 12. Bangles 13. Scary movies 14. Art supplies 15. Driving 16. Writing poetry 17. White chocolate Reese’s 18. Glee 19. Fashion 20. The Simpsons 21. Heavy blankets 22. Christmas 23. Friends (the show) 24. Arrested Development 25. Rings 26. My MacBook Pro 27. Sleeping 28. Staying up late 29. Mexican food 30. America’s Next Top Model 31. Legally Blonde 32. Floral dresses 33. Boots 34. Kitties 35. Dogs 36. Animals, in general 37. Board games 38. Beer 39. Red wine 40. Scarves 41. Vanilla Coke 42. Butterscotch 43. Documentaries 44. Writing 45. Skinny jeans 46. Naps 47. A clean bedroom 48. Having clean hair 49. Nail polish 50. Children 51. Jersey Shore 52. Traveling 53. California 54. Teen Mom 55. The ocean 56. Cuddling 57. Holding hands 58. Kissing 59. Having sex 60. Talking on the phone with the guy I like 61. Being home alone 62. Reading 63. Strawberry-flavored things 64. Indie music 65. Everlasting Gobstoppers 66. King of the Hill 67. Cream soda 68. Headbands 69. Sandals 70. Perfume 71. YouTube 72. CollegeHumor 73. Facebook 74. Naming things 75. Long hair 76. Dark-haired guys 77. When guys wear glasses 78. Sunshine 79. Storms 80. The Fourth of July 81. Pizza 82. Bob Dylan 83. Singing 84. Clam chowder 85. Garlic 86. Polar bears 87. Bronzer 88. Chocolate 89. Popcorn 90. Road trips 91. Seeing musicals 92. Bo Burnham 93. Demetri Martin 94. The color yellow 95. The color green 96. The color pink 97. The color blue 98. Stud earrings 99. Fairs 100. Autumn

*HATES* 1. Doing dishes 2. Cleaning 3. Tomatoes 4. Moulin Rouge 5. When my computer freezes 6. Potato skins 7. The color red 8. The color orange 9. Pumping gas 10. Pomegranate 11. Predictability 12. Rihanna 13. Hoop earrings 14. Halloween 15. Gin 16. MySpace 17. Twitter 18. Flip flops 19. Liquid Eyeliner 20. Repetition 21. Metal Music 22. Over-analyzing 23. Worrying 24. Anxiety 25. Uncoated pills 26. Having to wake up early 27. Hot chocolate 28. Wal-Mart 29. Bird poop on my car 30. Inconsiderate people 31. Nightmares 32. Chores 33. Hanging up clothes 34. Being tired 35. Cramps 36. Being ignored 37. Losing touch 38. Alarm clocks 39. Skiing 40. Football 41. Golf 42. Hummers 43. Pickles 44. Makeup lines 45. Too much sauce on my pizza 46. Acne 47. When there’s nothing good on TV 48. When plans fall through 49. Not having money 50. Being too hot

NAMES Your first name begins with a C. Your first name contains 6 letters. Your mom solely picked out your name prior to your birth. Your first name is of Latin origin. You like your first name. Your surname contains 7 letters. Your surname begins with a C. Many people have had trouble spelling or pronouncing your surname. When you get married, you’ll choose to take your partner’s surname.

BIRTHDAY, BIRTHPLACE & THE LIKE You were born outside of the United States. You’re a Capricorn. You think most of your personality traits are akin to your zodiac sign. You have lived in more than one foreign country. You have one sister. You have half-siblings. You have step-siblings. You’re a middle child. One of your parents is deceased. Two of your grandparents are deceased. You would love to have kids of your own some day. You would consider adopting a child. You don’t see much of your relatives very often. You have a first cousin you haven’t seen in 10+ years. You’re in your late 20s. You have completed at least some college.

SPORTS & OTHER ACTIVITIES You’re not an athletic person. …but you try to remain physically active. You don’t understand the concept of American football. You like soccer. You’re a fan of the NY Mets. You’ve tried skiing and figure skating. You have a gym membership. You like ice hockey. You have watched a game/match (of any professional sport) LIVE. You like to swim, but are not very good at it.

RELATIONSHIPS & ROMANCE You’re in a committed relationship. You’ve been committed to your partner for 6+ months. You’re a sucker for old, romantic films. You’ve watched porn movies on cable. You’ve personally experienced a pregnancy. You plan to marry the person you’re involved with now.

RANDOM MIX You prefer winter over summer. You like the cold. New Year’s Eve is your favorite holiday. Christmas really bores or depresses you. You’re agnostic or atheist. You’re socially liberal. You have pen pals from foreign countries. You have a Tumblr account. You’re a proponent of LGBT, animal and environmental rights. You’re thrifty. You have lived with roommates… …and hated it! You find the terms “retard” and “fag” very offensive and overused. You’re multi-ethnic. You’re trying to omit sweets from your diet. You’ve recently quit drinking or smoking. You’re currently unemployed. You love techno music. You’re an 80s brat. You’re bilingual. At least one of your family members has served in the military. You believe war is not a solution to ANYTHING! You fidget constantly when feeling nervous or bored. You’re a suburbanite. You have owned a dog, cat, some fish, or a rabbit. You know someone with a neurological disorder like ADHD, epilepsy, OCD, etc. You’re a grammar freak. You’ve participated in a spelling bee in elementary school. You prefer swimming in a natural body of water over a swimming pool. You have naturally wavy hair. You love to travel…. but hate traveling by plane!! You don’t own a desktop computer. You like spicy and sweet foods. You thought George W. Bush was one of the dumbest U.S. presidents ever. You’ve been to NY…. California… Massachusetts… Florida… Washington, DC… Texas… Virginia… Maryland… New Jersey… New Hampshire… Rhode Island… Maine… Canada… Western Europe… You’re a natural brunette, but have colored it before. You think you have a dis-proportioned physique. You think horror movies are more dumb than scary. You prefer to spend your Friday and Saturday nights quietly. You’ve taken a ballet or jazz class. You know how to play a musical instrument. You hate to cook and really suck at it. You don’t attend parties very often. You’ve pondered about how overall life was like 100 years ago.

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highladyailynatyourservice-blog · 6 years

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Please send me feedback. If you're just being an asshole about it, just don't.

I fell to a knee, my head forced in a bow. I could still feel the blood running down my body. My clothes had been torn to rags and the fibers were soaked with the deep scent of the earth and stomach acid. My body was sore from the ride it took to get here. Several days with only a mouthful of water and small pieces of moldy bread and I was starving. I could see a filthy reflection in the newly polished black tile. A soiled face stared back. I had a busted lip and a black eye. My long brown hair had been cut in some areas and the rest of it was tangled. My usually rosy skin tone had become an ashen gray and my facial features had become too prominent. My cheekbones stood out like rounded horns and my jaw had become sharp. My cheeks had hollowed out and my good eye had a deep purple bag under it. My blue eye had become a sullen gray and sank farther into my skull than it had days ago. I smirked at the sight of a stick poking out behind my ear. I ran my tongue over my cracked lips and nearly groaned at the taste of blood. I lifted my head up with a sigh and rolled my neck, closing my eyes at the feeling. I opened them and stopped, feeling that burning sensation within my gut again. I smiled at the men before me. And laughed as War’s skull tumbled to the ground, tossed by a soldier. I watched what was left of his features blow away into dust. I stared as Death made his way down the three steps leading to his throne and glanced at Conquest and Famine as they shifted to face me. I cocked my head at the three of them, grinning slowly as I spoke. “Guess War had gotten too old.” I then proceeded to black out in front of the remaining horsemen of the apocalypse.

I awoke in a satin bed of the deepest red. I stared at it, glancing at the folds that made the red turn black. Memories flashed and I leaned over the edge of the bed, retching nothing but bile. Tears formed in my eyes as acid creeped up my throat. My head pounded and my vision blurred. For a minute I feared I’d pass out again. Suddenly, I heard a door creak. I mustered what strength was left in me and rolled out of the bed. I grabbed the wood holding the soft mattress and slid under the bed, ignoring the contents of my stomach that I had just slid through. I moved far from the edge of the bed. The bed was against a wall but spaced far from all the others. Several entryways and exits. I heard the soft pad of feet to my left. I turned my head towards the sound and saw tanned feet. I held my breath as I took in the white scars all over the skin, a complete contrast to the perfectly groomed toenails. I saw him then as he leaned down, knees to the floor, right hand braced on the side of the bed. Conquest. His golden blond hair was framed perfectly on his head. Shining, like a crown. Chiseled jaw that led to a thick strong neck. He smiled a brilliant grin with perfect white teeth, but I felt my stomach sink at his sharpened canines. Lengthened. I had heard stories of him ripping out his enemies’ throats, but that was back when they had first come to conquer this world. I brought my eyes back up to his own. Bright green eyes speckled with brown and red, like the gods themselves couldn’t choose how best to complement this perfect creature. I closed my own eyes and opened them. I had to get out of here. I looked at the other directions. Conquest cleared his throat. I looked back. “Would you please come out?” He asked. I scrambled farther away, a growl starting in the back of my throat. He rolled his eyes and looked up from under the bed. I heard a groan on the bed just before it flew back. I opened my eyes wide, my heart racing. I slowly looked behind me to see the bed several feet away. I looked back at him, my panic rising. He looked down at me. Those green eyes piercing through me. My eyes wandered down. A dark blue and gold outfit. Navy blue chiffon fabric wrapped over his legs. His chest was bare except for the gold mesh that covered his breast. Gold bracelets and rings covered his arms and hands. I watched as he took a step closer to me. I scrambled back as he dropped to his knees. He stayed like that, staring at me for several minutes while I calmed my heart down. I wondered if he could hear it beat.

Finally he spoke, his voice deep and silky. “I believe we are missing breakfast.” “If you could please change out of the nightgown and-” He stopped short, sniffing the air. His nose wrinkled in protest. “And please take a bath with plenty of soap.”

I sat there, anger boiling. That sharp tug in my gut taking over. I stood up, my fists balled up. “What the hell?!” “If you think I enjoy being like this then you’re wrong, I have been through hell to-.” I stopped again, vomiting more bile onto the floor. At the very sound of the word, more flashbacks raced through my mind. Conquest was up immediately, holding my hair back and rubbing my back as I dry heaved what was left. I ended up taking his offer.

________________________________

I stood looking at myself in the mirror. Water running down my body. I was pale enough to match the wall behind me. I looked back to the bath I had come from. It was filled with hot murky water and had the smell of lillies wafting from it.The bath was more like a small pool and contained a small waterfall. Ideal for removing the soaps from my hair and face. The bathroom itself was rather large. It contained a light blue marble tile floor and white transparent curtains that billowed in the wind coming through the cracked doors leading to a balcony. Despite the wind, the room itself was warm.

I turned back to the mirror in front of me. It was full length and extended to even the counter holding fluffy white towels and fresh clean clothes. My eyes moved back to my body. I had become lean. My skin tone was a sickly sallow color and my ribs were prominent. I could only imagine my spine jutting out from my back. My breasts had become nonexistent, just tiny peaks that were barely visible. I sighed, it would take a while before they would come back. I had removed the jungle growing in my armpits with the available razor and was feeling more comfortable. My hair was now clean and very wet, but my usual reddish brown color was now a dripping black mess. My eyes were still a blue gray, but I could open both of them. My black eye was now just a deep purple that yellowed out at the brow. My eyebrows were thick but just about the only part of me that looked nice. My lip was split, but healing. My nose wasn’t broken and still dotted with freckles. I looked under the counter to find several drawers. I opened one to find a pristine comb and brush. There were several new ribbons set to the side of the brush and decorative pins next to the ribbons. I took out the brush before closing the drawer and opening the one below it. The drawer had bottles full of pigments and small brushes. Makeup then. I eyed the black smudge that I supposed was eyeliner. Images flashed through my mind again.

I was back at the brothel. In the room in the back. Where no one could see me. I was readying the ladies. Pulling their hair back in flattering ways. Dressing them in revealing ways. I spent more time on their makeup though. Making the eyes appear more large. Reddening the lips and applying a light shade of pink to their cheeks. I never wore the stuff. It was too precious to waste on someone like me. According to the prostitutes anyway. I was only 13 anyway. Was. My 17th birthday had passed a little over 8 months ago. The thought brought me back to reality.

I closed the drawer. I found lotions and perfumes in the last one. All full. All new. All of this to take care of me? I bit back the thought that was coming to mind. I grabbed a towel, drying my hair in thought. What would happen now? I had expected to die, not to be treated like this. Everything was new and by the looks of it, expensive. If they had gone to all of this trouble then surely they wouldn’t kill me. My mother had been right, she knew they wouldn’t harm me. I dried my body off, wrapping myself in the fluff. I doubted they would let me go. I had killed their brother. The pain in my gut hit. I staggered over with a scream. My arms went over my stomach, my nails digging into the skin. My head rang with screams. My eyes widened as everything slowly turned red. The color creeping in from the corners. The door burst open. Someone was holding me. Whispering in my ear. The red faded. The pain ebbed away until it was a dull ache.

I sighed, collapsing into the arms of my rescuer. I looked up to find a red-haired man. Not Ginger, not orange. Bright red. With clear blue eyes like that of the cleanest water. He had pale skin, but his features were sharp. He had my exact physique, jutting cheekbones and all, but he wore it all in a way that looked appealing. Famine then. I tensed up. He too wore chiffon, only it crossed over his chest and wrapped over his waist and legs. Brown coloured but instead of gold, he wore a single brass band over his throat. He looked deep into my eyes and I heard my stomach rumble. I blushed and scrambled back, looking away. There was a loud cough at the door and I looked back to find a bright red Famine still on the floor. I saw Conquest standing over him with a bright red face and averted eyes. I tilted my head quizzically. What was making them s- oh. I rushed for the towel and made a hasty attempt to cover myself. Heat rose to my face and I could’ve sworn steam was coming out my ears. Conquest opened his mouth. “Get out!” I roared at them. They scrambled away before I could process the thought that I had just yelled at 2 of the 4- no 2 of the 3 gods of the land. I grabbed the clothes off of the counter. I held out a flowing yellow satin top that showed my midriff and had pink chiffon endings that flowed over my hips. I rolled my eyes and looked at the bottoms. Shorts. Short shorts. Pink short shorts. I snorted and looked for something else. There was nothing else. There was no way I would wear such a thing. I popped my head out the door, glaring at a bored looking Conquest.

“I am not wearing this.” I stated in a calm manner.

“You’re a girl aren’t you?” Famine asked innocently. “Don’t you like pink?”

“No, I’m a warrior and I despise the color pink.” I gritted through my teeth.

“Oh.” Famine looked away, but not before I saw the somber look on his face.

“I’ll get you something else then.” He muttered. I watched him walk with a pang of sadness in my chest.

“He picked out the outfit for you.” Conquest sighed. “He was just trying to be nice.”

I bit down on my lip and closed the door. I shook my head. I had to blend in here. Show no fear. Get them to trust me.

I walked out with my hair braided down my back. I had made adjustments to the pink attire. Conquest and Famine were waiting on my bed, with the bed put back to its original place. Famine gawked at the sleeves I had ripped off and the rest of the clothes I had shredded. I threw them in the waste bin by my right side. I now wore a red chiffon shirt that wrapped around my chest and clipped at my shoulders, letting the sleeves spill down and brush my arms and dark brown leather capris pants with a close cross stitch on the sides. Conquest held his chin looking me up and down with a smile. “Now we need only to fill out your assets and you’ll be the most beautiful women in the land.” He chuckled. I snorted and tossed my hair with a flip.

“Then fill me out, where’s the grub?” I said with a yawn. Conquest stopped and merely smiled. We headed to the door and just as Famine went through, I grabbed his arm.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “For the clothes.” He nodded and turned with a slight smile.

They both escorted me down to the dining area where a long, lavish table was decorated with food. 8 chairs. 2 to both the left and right sides and a chair at each ending of the table. Death sat at the head, staring at me. I ignored his stare and drooled at the sight of the food. Varieties of jams, breads, meats. Everything. There was a plate of fruit, the apples green and fresh, the pear ripe and plump. Plates with heapings of still sizzling bacon. There was a pile of ham and beef, the juices dripping down onto the white plate. Biscuits, with honey glazing the tops. Eggs, both fried and scrambled. Pastries with jellies oozing out of the sides. My stomach grumbled again and I almost moaned. Famine pushed the middle of my back and I stumbled forward. “You’re more than welcome to eat” He gestured. I looked at him with gratitude and turned back to the table.

I grabbed a plate and loaded it with heapings of meat and pastries, I reached over for an apple just before a door flew across the floor. Feet boomed across the black floor and I turned around to find a dark skinned man simmering in front of me. He turned to Death with a glare. “Is this the one?” He growled. His voice was low and sharp. I grabbed for the butterknife, sliding the cool metal into my palm. The silverware made no sound as I gripped it in my hands. I turned to Death and his eyes were centered on my palm. He made no sound though. The man turned back to me with fire in is eyes. He looked down at the floor. I turned back to the food and made a big mistake.

He gripped my braid pulling my head back in a sharp manner. I screamed at the sudden pain. I heard chairs scrape, but I flipped the knife I had and angled it just right. A chuckle ripped the silence of the room. “What’s so funny?” My victim barked.

“Checkmate asshole.” I growled. Slowly, the hold on my hair loosened. I jerked the knife up for good measure and a sharp breath answered the movement. I spun away, jumping backwards onto the table, spilling food in the process. My heart beat like a thousand drums in a war march. I crouched down, my arm between my legs gripping the edge of the table with my other hand grasping the knife. My knuckles turned white. The man stayed silent. He had no hair and light gray eyes. Even with the stern look on his stone face he managed to be extremely handsome. The room darkened and a buzzing sound became deafening. Something touched my left hand and I looked down to see a locust. Plague. That’s who he was. Another locust flew by and I swung my arm out. It fell to the floor in two pieces. It’s leg still twitching and the wings still fluttering.

“Stop.” In an instant it all disappeared. I turned to find the voice belonging to Death. The black aura belonging to the god seemed to suck all light around him. He had an olive skin tone that enveloped muscles. He had white silvery hair and brown eyes with a golden ring around the pupil. He was clothed in black of course. Black chiffon. Of course. It must be a style here then. He wore silver. Silver earrings, silver necklaces, and silver arm cuffs. He stood up from his chair. He was silent, sleek like a cat. My heart fluttered when he looked over at me. It made sense for Death to be enticing. The room was silent. And then the laughter started. Hearty laughter rang from all corners of the room. I looked up in surprise to find Death, Famine, and Conquest trying to hold each other up while cackling like oafs. I gaped in surprise and Plague growled.

“Plague-” Death sputtered out. “Are you okay?”

“Of course not.” Conquest chortled. “His manhood was almost removed.” Famine was gasping for air and holding his stomach.

“What little there was.” Death said under his breath. And with that they all collapsed on the floor in giggles. I was caught between laughing with them and running out of the room. Either way, I could tell, they did not care for Plague. Quite frankly, I didn’t either. Death sat up with a grin on his face as he wiped away a tear from his eye. He looked at Plague.

“I’m just pulling your leg.” He said lightly with a smile in his eye.”Don’t be so upset, she got you pretty good.”

“Punish this pest or I’ll do it for you.” He growled. Death looked at him, his face going dark.

“You will not harm a hair on her head.” He commanded. “This pest as you say, is a guest.” “Do not touch Wa-” He paused. “I mean, what’s your name?” He said turning to face me.

“Lienne.” I said quietly. My eyes lowered.

“Ah, Lynne.” He said with a smile. “It means beautiful waterfall.” I looked back up sharply.

“No, It’s Lee-ehn, it means powerful and swift.” I hissed through my teeth. He smiled and rose to his feet. He walked over to me and circled in a manner that reminded me of a cat with a mouse. He leaned in, bringing his hand to my face. His fingers grazed under my chin and swept through a released lock of hair.

“It also means lotus, Lienne dear, tell me why you’ve come.” He said with a small grin.

“Your men captured me after I ripped War’s head off his neck.” I said matching his smile with one of my own.

“Oh really?” He asked. “Because my men were several miles from you in the battlefield.” “They refused to get in War’s way.” I flinched.

“I was too tired to move after such a battle.” I responded.

“You cut off the arm of the first man to get to you.” He stated.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He seethed. “You killed my brother.” “You wanted to be captured.” “It’s part of the rebellions little plan, huh?”

“I-” He cut me off.

“I know all about you Lienne.” He circled me, only this time I actually felt like a mouse. “You’ve been trained since birth to take us all on.” “We know everything, and thanks to Plague we know it to be true.”

“You don’t know anything.” I said quietly. My heart hammered in my chest.

“No?” He said.

“No.” I growled. “Everyone, everything is dying. There’s no money, no clean water, and our crops continue to fail.” I growled. “Constantly, we plead to you to help us.” “What do you do?”

I held an apple in my hand. “You throw your wealth in our faces” I spat. I threw the apple with accuracy, but Death moved to the left and the apple exploded against a wall. “And I guess you thought us pitiful because your horrid brother came upon our town like hellfire on dry grass.”

“We starve.” I said grabbing more fruit and throwing. “We struggle.” “My little sister had to sell her body to keep food on our table.” I screamed. “My 12 year old sister!” I didn’t bother keeping my voice down. “I had to train countless years until War came back to terrorize us again.” “And I was ready.” I couldn’t stop the laughter from tumbling out of my mouth. “I felt the greatest pleasure when his blood ran down my arms.” Conquest started my way, but Death stopped him.

“For everything I went through and for everything she went through.” My voice broke. “I will take all three of you down.” And with that, Death waved his hand and darkness surrounded me.

Chapter 2

I had been chained. My wrists were bound together and any semi-sharp objects were taken from me. My threat had not played out so well with them. Famine refused to talk to me, much less come near me and I did not see Death. Conquest, it seemed, took great pleasure in torturing me with his words.

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robertshugartca · 5 years

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We’re not sure what’s more predictable—moody nail...

We’re not sure what’s more predictable—moody nail polish shades like burgundy, navy, and eggplant for fall or feathery pastels like buttercup, robin’s egg, and mint for spring. We’ll let you debate, but we’d prefer to be a tad less predictable with our springtime manicures this year. Nails are the ultimate fashion accessory when it comes to our beauty aesthetic, and even if you’re not one to swipe on a glittering lid, hot pink lip, or graphic liner, a super-cool and unanticipated spring nail color is an easy way to step up your beauty game without feeling overly ostentatious. That said, if you want the lid, lip, and nail, more power to you.

We’ve already conducted some research this winter in terms of everything nail-related. I sacrificed my fingers to Julia Roberts’s crystal-healing manicurist (eh, it’s a tough job, I know), we’ve pinpointed the top nail destinations in both New York and L.A. , and we’ve chatted with some of the top nail artists in the biz to find out what’s in for spring 2019 and what’s best left buried in 2018. (R.I.P.) That said, I was still curious. What specific colors and polish shades would WWW HQ be wearing on their tips the minute the clock strikes spring this year?

It’s part of our job to be well ahead of the curve in terms of trends and launches, and we know 2019’s red carpet and runway trends like the back of our hand. Therefore, I pinged every single fashion and beauty editor two very important questions—what nail color will you be sporting this spring and why? From dove-like blues and dusty to pinks that have nothing to do with ballet studios or their associated footwear, keep scrolling for 15 VIP spring nail colors you’ll spot on our editors’ fingers this spring.

“I know, I know, neon green is getting a little oversaturated these days, but a less *electric* shade of lime green may actually be the unexpected nail color I never knew I needed.” — Anna LaPlaca, assistant editor “This dreamy shade of blue comes with all the apropos springtime pastels without any of the clichés.” — Anna “I think I’m just in a phase of my life where I want my beauty aesthetic just to be whimsical and happy and not too serious, and lately the only nail color I really want to wear is bright yellow. Lucky for me, primary colors are trending in the nail world right now, and Chanel’s new collection of them, including this perfect sunny yellow, is perfect for my spring 2019 vibe.” — Amanda Montell, features and beauty editor. “I’m really into primary colors for nails right now and a yellow mani feels especially fresh for spring. I’ll be giving my red polish a break for the time being and reaching for this sunny shade instead.” — Anna “The fall/winter runways were flooded with pistachio hues, and since fall is still a ways away, I figured painting the minty yet murky color on my nails was the easiest way to partake in the trend ASAP.” — Lauren Eggertson, editor “I’ve been loving variations of burnt orange for the past year or so now and have tried my fair share of formulas. Hester from Tenoverten is by far my favorite, and way more flattering and pretty than you’d ever expect. Not to mention, it’s a great, far more interesting alternative to your basic nude.” — Erin Jahns, associate beauty editor “Everyone assumes navy blue for winter and robin’s egg for spring, but I honestly love this dusty shade of blue more than both combined. It plays well with any season but still feels light and airy enough for spring. Hence, the shade’s very appropriate name. It also has a hint of periwinkle, so fans of purple will love it too.” — Erin “I’m not going to say I don’t wear neon hot pink in the spring and summer, because I most definitely do. That said, if I don’t want an in-your-face color slam, I trade in my neon for this slightly more muted shade of my fave shade of pink. It compliments every skin tone, and I find it cooler than coral. (Sorry, Pantone.)” — Erin “I’ve replaced all of my old beiges, grays, and baby pinks with this iridescent nude shade from Smith & Cult. It’s the perfect option if you like some shimmer but don’t want full-on sparkle, and it’s also great if a strong dose of color isn’t your cup of tea. I rack up so many compliments from strangers when I wear it and have fallen into the pattern of wearing it back to back to back to back again.” — Erin “I love a true, classic red any time of the year, but for spring, a slightly more orange take—like this stunning shade of poppy—has a bit more pep which I love. Plus, it’s just one of those colors that makes you happy whenever you catch a glimpse of your mani!” — Erin “J. Hannah’s new pearly nail polish feels like a welcome change from my normal shiny polishes.” — Kat Collings, editor in chief “I’m really into this sage green/pistachio hue that is popular on the fashion circuit, but I’ll be trying it on my nails this spring too!” — Judith Jones, market editor “I always stick to classic red for nail polish, no matter the season. This Chanel version is my all-time favorite and it will never go out of style.” — Erin Fitzpatrick, senior news editor “Some of my favorite spring trends have also inspired me to venture out into some new nail colors—I can imagine this head-to-toe beige look can only get better with a matching mani.” — Nicole Eshaghpour, market editor “I just got a manicure with Kanpai OPI! and found it to be the best periwinkle shade I’ve found. If you like gray nail colors but want something a little prettier for spring, you’ll love this.” — Allyson Payer, editor “I tend to stick to classic colors so you usually won’t find me wearing anything that is too trendy. For spring, I retire my darker burgundy winter polish for cherry shades. Chanel’s Le Vernis in Pirate is honestly the most perfect color, and I’ve already started wearing it on repeat.” — Kristen Nichols, managing editor. Next up, 23 nail looks we’re totally obsessed with on Instagram right now.

source https://gothify1.tumblr.com/post/183350464935

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deathbyvalentine · 7 years

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My Entry for my Creative Writing Portfolio.

There were places in the world with a long memory. Places where even the soil has blood; where the landscape has a pulse. These places could leave a mark. Nobody got out unscathed, if they got out at all. Farms who were worked by the same family, generation after generation, members never venturing further than their own rolling fields. Towns that sat squatly between towns almost identical to each other, hot and bored. Houses, half-ruined, impossible to tell from a glance if they had occupants or not. Until a curtain twitched. The churches were the worst of all, God carried like a disease passed through guilt and preaching.The people who had grown up in these places, they wore it like a bleeding heart on their sleeve, even if they moved. Even if they escaped.

Rose, well, you could smell the southern heat on her a mile off. It was in the way her fingers twitched constantly; the way her eyes never quite met yours, the way her smile was always a little too late.

One of those small towns had claimed her sister, and she had only just managed to avoid it claiming her. She lived in a city now, and she liked it immensely. She liked the constant rush of traffic, the grey of the concrete buildings and the shimmer of the highrise offices made of glass. She liked the anonymity, how even the barista she bought a coffee from (black, too much sugar) every morning didn’t remember her name. She liked that her boyfriend wore a suit like thousands of other workers, and his hands were never calloused. She liked that he didn’t remind her of a father, or a boy she grew up with. He did not wear the scars of a small town and he couldn’t recognise hers, couldn’t point to them on a map. Did she love him? As much as she felt she could love anyone perhaps. It wasn’t deep love. It wasn’t the type of love you would kill or die for. It was the type of love you would marry or divorce for. And indeed, on her finger she wore an engagement ring, and sometimes she marvelled at the very normality of it, at the proof it provided that she was both lovable enough and sensible enough to marry.

The phone rang early on Saturday afternoon. The sound was shrill and Rose looked up from her book, startled. One of the few quirks that her fiance found endearing rather than bewildering was her insistence on having a landline rather than just a cellphone. She liked the idea of putting down roots, of grounding her life in wires and electricity. She liked how very rarely it rang.

Rose picked up the phone, and held it to her ear. There was a crackle on the line, the sound a little distant. A pause, and then -

“Hey Rose. It’s been a while. Like… Half a decade a while.” The voice was familiar, warm, and completely unwelcome. Rose pressed the phone closer to her ear, twisted the wire around her fingers over and over again.

“Elsie?”

“That’s right sweetcheeks.” Elsie breathed out, amused, and Rose could hear her shifting on the end of the line. “Bet you never thought you’d hear from me again.”

“Yes, well, no, I mean - “

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t want to call you either. But I had to.”

“Oh Gods, you’re not dying are you?” Rose’s mind, as usual, went to the worst possible conclusion, flashing through scenes of sterile hospital rooms and beeping monitors.

“Fuck no. You wish. No, actually, it’s about something else.” There was a long pause, and something heavy settled on Rose’s stomach. She didn’t want to hear what came next. She wanted to hang up now, and go back to her book of comforting fairy tales, and forget all about Elsie. But she didn’t. She stayed. “It’s- It’s Vanessa’s grave. It’s been moved. We think it’s empty again.”

What do you call a body that doesn’t know it’s dead?

Her name was Vanessa, and once, she had been shining. It was customary for the older sibling to be the inspiration, the object of envy, but it was never that way for Rose. Vanessa was her younger sibling, and she was perfect. Rose loved her as much as she envied her; adored her as much as she hated herself. Vanessa had the attention of all that stumbled across her, for better or worse. When she had gotten sick, her bedroom had been like a saint’s tomb, constantly filled with flowers and fruit, the girl herself looking like something from a Pre-Raphaelite painting in her deathbed.

Rose had not wanted her to die. Rose held her tight and wiped sweat from her feverish skin. Rose spooned soup into her rapidly diminishing body. Rose stopped her from biting her tongue when the fits came. And Rose went to a crossroads, burying a box of blood and bone and library dust, willing to make a deal with any being that came across it. It hadn’t worked. She had died while Rose was at school. The entire town had came to the funeral, the small whitewashed building filled until it smelt of sweat and linen. She had been buried in the churchyard with some saccharine verse inscribed on an angel-clad headstone. Rose could only remember the ordeal in flashes of sensation and scent. The smell of old perfume: the touch of an old lady's hand to hers: the sun burning the back of her neck.

She remembered the third night after the funeral clearly though. How she had left her window open hoping to tempt in a breeze from the static night. How she had been unable to sleep, the sheets of her bed tangling around her legs like vines. How she had finally given up, and sat up, glancing out her window to see her sister standing on the lawn, bathed in moonlight. How her and Elsie had buried her again, this time with coins slipped into her mouth and into her palms, coaxing the girl back into her coffin. They had left bricks on top of her coffin, and spat into their handshake, swearing not to tell anyone. Not ever.

It was very almost a beautiful day. The sky was a searing blue. The fields a blinding yellow blur as she drove past them. The day would fade with spectacular blood-reds and desperate oranges. It never died quietly around here; it went out in a riot of aggressive colour. For now, the sky remained stubbornly bright.

The town, when she finally made it within the boundaries, was exactly how she remembered it. Perhaps different storefronts were boarded up, perhaps it was different drunks sitting on benches staring into their clutched paper bags, but the air couldn’t change. Elsie seemed the same too, if taller, a little more filled out. Her dark skin shone with sweat from the oppressive sun. Her curls pulled back from her face to show those eyes that so uncannily mirrored the skies above. It had been their eyes that had brought them together. Hers sky, Rose’s forest. Witches eyes, Elsie had whispered excitedly, voice full of fireworks.

There was something new though, and Rose felt an irrational dislike immediately. He was tall, an easy smile painted across a handsome face, and she knew he would drawl before he even greeted her. Elsie introduced him as a ‘friend’, her arm tucked intimately around his waist, and he introduced himself as ‘Lee’. His father’s name, she knew. Even if he was new to this dynamic, he was not new to this town, and his father was often one of the drunks to be found sitting on the benches. She remembered him from high school, a few years ahead of the girls, bruises blooming like poisonous flowers across his body.

He was unwelcome here, in the space between her and her best friend. It was even more unwelcome when he opened his soft-pink mouth and said her sister’s name with no reverence, no worship.

“So, you’re the famous Rose right of RoseAndVanessa fame? Elsie never shuts up about you. Rose this, Rose that. Like you’re a goddess or something.”

“I’m not a goddess.” She stated, firmly, cutting him off as he opened his mouth again. There were gods in this world, she had seen them. They lived in all the deep dark spaces. They fed off belief and fear. They did not appreciate comparison.

“Well Elsie worships you.” Rose looked at her, and Elsie shrugged, lighting a cigarette and raising it to her lips.

“She shouldn’t.”

He shrugged too, echoing her gesture easily. “Anyway. So we have to sort out a zombie?”

The churchyard was up a hill, covered with sparse trees that allowed the moonlight to seep through. All magic had to be done by moonlight, starlight or candlelight. Even dark magic. In her bag, slung across her shoulders she carried candles, salt, coins, a knife. As they walked, she picked flowers to clasp in her hands - snowdrops, violets, bluebells. All the other early blooming and early dying flowers. Lee carried a shovel across his shoulders. Elsie carried nothing but her cigarettes and her lipstick. Rose crossed herself as she entered the churchyard, and Lee copied her, though Elsie did not.

Sure enough, the soil was loose and disturbed on Vanessa’s grave. She let it run through her fingers, closing her eyes for just a moment. Grief did not go away. It only waited. Then it crashed into you over and over again, in small moments and big, when you least and most expected. For a minute, it robbed her of her breath, her lungs caught in a vice of memory and guilt. And then, it passed, as it always did, and she straightened up, brushing the dirt from her palms. She laid out the items in a semi-circle, crossed her legs and waited, the other two flanking her. Midnight came and went. The real witching hour comes when you have forgotten what time it is, whether it is late or early. And when Rose’s eyes were drooping; when Elsie had laid her head in Lee’s lap, that’s when she felt it. Nothing huge, a touch at the back of the neck, the air a little colder. She opened her eyes, and saw Vanessa at the gate, as expected. Still in the skirt she was buried in, skin still clean and somehow whole. Her eyes were empty of colour, and there was dirt under her nails, the pink polish chipped.

Unexpectedly, there was something with her. A shadowed hand on her shoulder. It seemed to absorb the moonlight, none of its details thrown into relief by the silver. A silhouette is all that remained: one showing wicked curved horns and strong shoulders. The exception, of course were it’s eyes. They glittered like beetles backs, and focused on her. She felt that gaze down to her toes, a hot flush of self-consciousness. Lee spluttered behind her, and Elsie for once was silent.

“What do you wish this time, Rose Peters?” Its voice was not loud, but it carried unnaturally. She walked forward, trying to seem less afraid than she was. She did not want to feed it her fear.

“I wish for you to let my sister rest.”

It mused on this for a long moment. She gazed at it, watching the fluidity of it’s movements, too graceful to be anything approaching human.

“But Rose Peters, was it not you that called on me to stir her from her rest? Did you not appreciate my gift?”

Suddenly, it was in front of her, clutching her chin in a hand that had claws. She knew tomorrow she would wake with bruises decorating her jaw. She kept it’s gaze.

“I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Ignorance is no excuse.”

“You’re right.”

Another long silence. “If you can give me an acceptable price, I will retrieve my gift, and return your sister to her grave.” It released her chin, and looked around her to her two trembling friends. It glanced at her, as though in disdain. “This is the gift you offer?” It returned to Vanessa.

“My gift is myself.” Her voice was almost carried away on the wind.

“A life for a life. I am not asking you to return her to her grave. I’m asking you to return her to life. In return, I will stay with you. I will be your servant, your devotee.” She was not afraid of it. She would feed it on other things. These gods, they feed on devotion. “I will leave this place and go to wherever you exist. For eternity, if I have to.” Two gasps behind her, that were so easily ignored.

It tilted its head. She was being considered. She held her head high.

“I accept your gift. I will collect in three days time. Say your goodbyes. Your life is over.”

#prose #short story #spilled ink prose #writers on tumblr

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