#its a chore to be around me and everyone always makes better friends and connections that aren't me because I can't be a fucking normal

[theood]

Lol

#//////////////////// #//// #/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// #////////////// #i feel like a waste of space and a leech on resources. #Im so fucking dumb and stupid. I don't do anything right. I have no passion. No energy. I'm lazy as can be. Can't get a job. Can't hold a #job. Can't do anything steady to save my life. I'm fucking worthless. I feel so stupid. I can't maintain friendships. There's nothing in my #eyes when I look in the mirror. I'm already dead. I'm just letting myself rot at this point #I'm jealous. I'm stupid. I can't hold a fucking conversation to save me. Im not trying hard enough. everyone else had actusl real problems. #oh you're depressed in mommy and daddys house where you pay nothing at all? fuckong grow up you bitch. that's what you are. a fuckong dumbas #s bitch Elias. Fuckinh look at yourself #i should have just gone to college *** ****** ****** like god intended me too. I've know since 4th grade I don't know why I even bothered as #i got older. it'd do my friends a whole lot. #its so fucking tempting to just delete everything and not ever talk again. Im never gping to achieve anything becuase I was fucking dumb ass #kid who didn't apply himself. boo hoo you struggled in school everyone else did too. you're mot fucking special. you don't have anything #wrong with you. you just want attention. Get hit again bitch and maybe you'd grow a fucking spine. Look at yourself. Almost 21 and you're #nothing but a fucking cesspool of waste. You're disgusting. Nobody actually wants you and you know. #im so fucking tired of it all. I should have gone several states away and never came back. There's nothing for me here. There never was and #there's never going to be because nobody wants me. not any person not any job. not anything #its a chore to be around me and everyone always makes better friends and connections that aren't me because I can't be a fucking normal #person. * ***** **** **** ** *** *“” **** **** ** ******! #none lf my relationships last because people see through my bullshit and jump fucking ship because its the right thing to do. ***'** ******* #**** ****** ******!! Why bother with me. *** ******* **** *** **** ****** i know it #elias.zip #even if i get a job I'll still be fucking miserable because thats all my life will ever be. miserable. it's never going to start to get #good. ever. I'm not meant for anything. not meant for this.

[cebwrites]

tw: suicide/suicidal ideation word count: 0.5k

.

.

The week I died, it was hot

There were no supernatural cosmic entities to horrify or fall in love with me No one to decipher a decades' long mystery with me I was alone in my room, in the heat, as always I prayed for rain to cleanse my agony knowing that elsewhere, it would flood

The week I died, I lost my appetite

My appetite for food, for my hobbies Nothing was particularly tasty and eating became a chore My body gave me often, painful reminders but I just couldn't be bothered to spend the energy The words too swirled around in my head, refusing to take form For the projects I let pile up, for writing this

The week I died, someone got married

I looked up the reason for a custom my family's culture had and thought it was crass Because my grandparents, aunt, and uncle were wrapping boiled eggs to give as gifts to the guests But my tastes nor experiences aren't universal

The week I died, I cried a lot

I felt stupid for only being able to process events in my life through the lens of cringy visualized comics in my head Selfish for the burden I'd put on my friends for my actions For making the sporadic friend groups I flit in and out of wonder why I stopped replying to their messages

I listened to love songs, despite or maybe because of the absence of intimate physical connection I talked to the people close to me, draining what little energy I had because burnout was better than the bitterness of feeling lonely Things I really looked forward to came in the post, I got an email saying something else had just shipped

But then I worried about how much work I'd have to do And I was tired

The week after I died,

The sun would still rise Capitalism would still continue to crush everyone under its boot, the earth would still get hotter every year Merchandise of my favorite characters would still be made My friends would still get to talk about their interests in the groups I gradually felt more alien in

The week I died, [redacted] days from my birthday

I was losing touch with the person I saw in the mirror I liked how he looked, "hardcore" like my partner once said But I didn't at all feel like I could live up to the image reflected back at me The insecure me, That worried about taking up too much space Yet selfishly wanted to bottle up all my friends' affections for me so it would never fade If I'm not useful to them, what point would they have to keep me around

The sensitive me, Blocking out every mild discomfort Because feeling upset is the worst feeling ever

The wrathful me, Hating the situation without control I was left in but without the strength to "pull myself up by the bootstraps" out of it Resenting and fearing the people around me

The me that died tonight,

Looking to throw away all these painful, unwanted feelings and finally rest.

#cebwrites #tw sucidal ideation #tw sui vent

[leovoid]

Keroro Gunso (SGT Frog) is MUCH BETTER THAN I REMEMBERED

Also REGAINING MY WEEB TITLE #4 .3. Hello guys, its been a while ^^;; I’ve been stuck in a rut writing my video on Naoki Urasawa’s Monster so I distract myself by watching more anime ;3; Now typically, I am a big enjoyer of anime filled with angst, philosophy, well structured narratives with a theme to explore. You know, the typical, I wanna be in my feels anime stuff. However this time around I recalled that SGT Frog was reuploaded onto Crunchyroll, and seeing as this was a show I watched ALOT as a child, and finding a high quality upload online was hard to come by until now, I wanted to show this to my fiancé. My mother had first introduced me to this show when I was around 10 - 12 years old, I am currently 29 so we’re looking at roughly 17 - 19 years later to today! Now when I say that this show is alot better than I remembered, I don’t wish to possibly misconstrue you, I’ve always loved this show, I remember (as a child mind you *blushes*) dancing in front of the TV to each of the openings and Endings [This one specifically], collecting all the plushies of the platoon, toys, Gundam models, etc... My entire family genuinely enjoyed this show, so much so that we played it every single day for my little brothers who were infants at the time after buying the first 3 seasons on DVD. I was so into it that even after we passed the DVDs and watching anime online just started becoming a thing, I was watching new episodes every week until around episode 250+ or so (This was around the same time Death Note first started airing, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!) So anyway, fast forward to the present, my fiancé and I have watched A TON of anime together, Hunter x Hunter, Monster, Serial Experiment Lain, etc... So I wanted to take a break from the angst and show her an anime I hold near and dear to me, Sgt Frog. Currently we’re at episode 57, and the last thing I expected out of this show was to cry. Thats right.... THIS SHOW MADE ME F*CKING CRY MAN! And not just a little choke and getting watery eyes, I mean I FULL ON CRIED, had a hard time talking/breathing, tears streaming down my face, I was a full on MESS! If I was someone to wear makeup, I’m sure my face would’ve been a site to see XD

I’m quite embarrassed to be honest, but I have to admit, I realized that despite the show that is engulfed in slap stick comedy, filled with tropes and childish antics, this show has incredible writing sometimes, and I often feel that most of the comedy is what makes the viewers feel so connected to the 5 Keronian troops.

So what exactly made me cry in this show? Well it was episode 51 -  The Keroro Platoon Retreats! Farewell, Pekopon, Sir!

The episode starts off just as a lot of episodes would start off, Keroro sleeping around his Gundam models, even holding a model piece in his hand. However Keroro is met by his commanding officer, commanding him and the squad to return to their home planet WITHIN 24 HOURS. Upon relaying the news to the rest of the platoon, everyone but the SGT. truly understands the severity of the situation. Keroro, whos only thought is the punishment he’ll receive for not properly invading Earth, (Pekopon) like a child who has an essay due tomorrow at school crams last minute the information needed to properly invade the planet, while the rest of his squad prepares for their final good byes to the friends and family they have made while on Earth.

The next few minutes of the show follows its usual comedic antics, Keroro arguing with Natsumi about getting his invasion manual back, rushing his chores to study quicker, even accidentally destroying his manual in the process, all the while we as viewers wonders when Keroro will put two and two together and realize what is more important, the fact that he did nothing towards the invasion or the fact that he’ll have to say good bye to the friends and family he has made along the way.

7 minutes into the episode, After wasting half of the day trying to find a way to invade Earth, Kululu comes in with a huge reality check for Keroro, telling him that per protocol all traces of their existence has to be wiped from the face of the Earth, not just physical evidence, but also the memories within the inhabitants of the planet too will be gone.

This is the moment when the entire tone of the episode changes, as Keroro finally realizes what is actually happening around him, never noticing for a second how he will have to say good bye to the Fuyuki house hold forever and the memories they made along with it. I normally would like to criticize the show at this point, because a lot of what happens here is just barely unnatural for some of the characters, Natsumi being abnormally nice to Keroro, making his favorite food, the mother being home in time for dinner, helping Keroro with his chores, etc... But I’ll let it slide because the emotional impact it had was probably slightly more significant because of it, and well.... this show is mostly a comedy anyway so I don’t wanna be too harsh haha From here on out, the invasion or lack there of, has completely left Keroro’s mind, the forefront on his mind is that this will be the last moment he spends with them, all the while keeping the fact that him and his squad will leave a secret.

Giroro leaving his unrequited love Tamama leaving the Nishizawas Kululu surprisingly leaving a sarcastic but friendly message to Saburo Dororo and Koyuki saying their final good byes The standard stuff, but this is where the scene and how its presented really takes off

Keroro is presented with the unimaginable task of giving the order to push the button that will completely wipe any traces of their existence on Earth. The rest of the squad follow, and ask Keroro what he wants to do. While it may not have been explicitly shown, but I believe that in the back of everyones mind they wouldn’t have been able to without Keroros order. The loyal and steadfast Giroro, the righteous Dororo and the menacing Kululu all relied on Keroro for the first time in the entire show to make the decision, none of them had it in their hearts to do it, not without the order. Keroro eventually makes the decision to erase everyones memories and all traces of them being on Earth.

Probably because I'm older, But it was less about the fact that they had to leave and more so of the fact that the 2 years they spent on Earth, all the friends they made, the memories they shared was all for nothing as we witness it all go up in the air in sparkly fashion. It was a pretty damning moment, the thought of it made me choke up pretty hard as the scene was presented magnificently, the voice acting, the music, everything set the tone perfectly. However, it wasn’t at this point where I cried, I came pretty damn close though lol Not even 3 minutes passes and the show hits you with another incredibly emotional scene as Fuyuki stares at his globe and remembers the first time he met SGT Keroro

Fuyuki dashes to the basement where Keroros room was, but of course it is now just a normal basement, Fuyuki stares at the fridge which would be a portal to the Keronian Base, but instead finds a lone, unbuilt Gundam Model in the fridge.

Now for those who may not have watched the show, this was the nail in the coffin for me. Keroro as a character is mainly a giant goof ball, where alot of his comedic shtick falls under his unhealthy obsession for Gundam Models, and for his “schtick” to be used in such an affective way, and after holding back my tears REALLY HARD in the scene prior, I couldn’t handle it, the show took the knife out of the wound they already gave me and stabbed me again in the same place. I CRIED, Poured my eyes out crying, I never felt such shame HAHA Now some might be wondering, well what happened next, do they come back?! Well seeing as there is literally 300+ more episodes later, I think we know exactly how this is gonna wrap up, which plays an even bigger part as to me wondering WHY THE HELL DID I CRY OVER THIS! But I digress...

In typical Sgt Frog (Keroro Gunsou) fashion, it turns out that all the Keronians wanted was to provide the platoon a physical check up and nothing more, so all of what they did was for naught, they came back, and everyone somehow, has their memories back, as Kululu resets everything, putting everything back to the way its supposed to be. So all’s well that ends well LOL I’m COMPLETELY aware that I cried for nothing, but DAMN MAN was that scene crafted so well (For a childrens anime) I barely remember what the next remaining seasons are like, honestly I’m kinda afraid of the quality of writing changes after this season, the next few episodes feels a bit different ( I can’t put my finger on it exactly) But I do recall that there will be more episodes like this of such serious nature, so I’m looking forward to watching it again with my fiancé <3 All in all, can’t believe a show like this made me cry, for those who have not watched it, WATCH IT, YOU WON’T REGRET IT.....maybe....probably....hopefully. Till next time, であります! (Dearimasu!)

Me too man....me too..... </3

#sgt frog #keroro gunso #sergeant keroro #giroro #tamama #kululu #dororo #fuyuki hinata #natsumi hinata #saburo #angel mois #nishizawa #comedy #anime

[vaudeville-venom]

3/4AM — O3-12-2O24 : RANT / RAMBLE ﹐🪶 ˖ overview: im tired of tiktok, want to move to other social media platforms. want to start blogging / journaling on tumblr and love the idea of others doing the same and find it interesting. want to redo my intro post really bad (i bring it up alot.) i want to have the 'average highschool experience', feel alone then ramble about my life a bit. talk about how i am rambling and how i dont expect anyone to read it. im tired of having a fucked up sleep schedule and being unstable. then an ending note talking about journaling on tumblr again, moodboards, the fucking intro post again, and want to work on a tagging system. (im really fucking tired oh my god)

[ me-core / aesthetic of my brain atm ] : images frm Pinterest

im really debating on just leaving tiktok for now, the algorithm fucking sucks especially right now. its boring as fuck and im not even seeing stuff of my interests or my mutuals ☠️ its all the same 3 god damn audios of content i wouldnt ever like want or expect to see??? ive mentally wanted to stop using shit like tiktok and move to using tumblr more and other sites like spacehey and stuff. i really need to redo spachey too. because while tumblr still has an algorithm ofc its alot less addicting and doesnt absolutely wreck your attention span like tiktok has for me. i feel like not using tiktok other than for occasional posts and sending things to / receiving things from friends would make me a bit more productive as well as being better for me mentally. while it wont magically cure me from any mental illness itll make me feel better and probably help my stress a bit.

i really love the idea of using a tumblr blog to post whatever i want and like use as a digital diary of some kind,, its super fun imo. i had an old acc but it felt like more of a chore to keep up with so now it’s abandoned. speaking of that blog i may make a post being like “hey, im [here] now!!” because i had some neat mutuals there. i think its really neat to see people post about their day and share things they like and reblog everything that catches their eye yk! that may just be a me thing.

i want to redo my intro post a bit, because idk im a bit unhappy with it. (dont be surprised if i edit it mid-writing this or before i post this..) i really love to write but i havent had much motivation at all. i typically love researching my interests and taking notes on them but recently i havent been able to no matter how much i want to, maybe this diary / blogging kind of thing will help me get back on my feet with that :)

i really dont have a ‘yearning’ for anything at the moment, besides having the experience of like everyone else my age. idk how (hahaha) corny that may sound but like for background, im online schooled due to mental and physical disabilities, i dont have many friends online or in person, i rarely see anyone, and i live with my dad and see my mom sometimes and dont really have family outside of that. the family i do have i dont get along with very well or theyre distant (physically or emotionally.) the family i really consider is my dad, because hes always there for me, and my friend micah, but he lives like 9 hours away from me like a LOSER (ily bffie.) im a big believer on chosen family and he is that chosen family. ok i got sidetracked, what im saying is i have no social life really, dont have a place to get a social life (school), and cant really connect with people no matter how i try to. i want to live life like how i see in teen life films or tiktoks of people vlogging with their friends, hell id kill to even have an irl bestfriend to be around. i do have irl friends, and i do have close friends, but i dont see them often or have the personal connection of a mutual best-friend feeling. my dads probably my best friend but i need someone my age lmfao.

this post will be so long that no one will read it i garuntee but also i dont mind?? im not gonna spill my guts like someone wont read this but im not gonna act like i have a large audience. this will just be a nice thing to look back on and keep up unless i anxiously delete it whenever i look back on it (maybe in the morning)

im really tired of waking up at 3-4pm right now, but i cant sleep earlier than 5am no matter what i do. and if i manage to fall asleep at 2am or something i wake up an hour later or wake up at 4-5am panicking for some reason. i havent been to therapy in forever, my therapist is like not doing her job as well as id like and i have no doctor other than my pediatrician who doesn’t understand what im talking about ever!!

i just made this post and thats kinda what led to all of this ranting and wanting to write and shit. im sorta just tired of alot of social media and would love to find myself in other ways and use other forms of social media to share those things even though tumblr is a bit more dead than some things :) im gonna end this one here but if i write another tonight or early tomorrow (like the afternoon same day but it’s tomorrow to me) dont be surprised i love rambling to myself. now i think im going to make this post look cute, post it, redo my pinned intro, work on featured tags/a tagging system, then go from there ^^’

#cain.txt #oversharing on the internet is fun! #;; #blogging #blog #ranting #ramble #rambling #rant #diary #digital diary #diary entry #my diary #tumblr diary #tumblr blog #yapping #autism #bpd #neurodivergent

[twjournals]

So Wrong It's Right

Sequel: What's Wrong is Right

Warning: dark!Peter Parker x reader, DUB-CON, manipulation, age gap, drinking

PLEASE READ MY WARNING BEFORE CONTINUING. I am not responsible for your media consumption. Any and all negativity will be blocked.

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You're an old troubled friend of May's. Your life consists of being a workaholic, a party animal, and bringing home the shittest of guys for a one-hit-wonder. Just when you get your life in order, you're knocked right back into your old habits. Peter has watched you suffer long enough. He can make it all better.

Your life was far from where you thought you would be. It was sad to say, but you were anything but a role model. Yet May still tolerated you, regardless of Peter. Maybe she used you as an example to show Peter what not to be or maybe she was just too good of a friend to leave you on your own. To say the least, your life was a mess but you could not be more grateful to have a friend like May.

"Peter, go get me a wet rag, please," May spoke quietly. Peter left your side once he helped May get you over to the couch. You were beyond the limits that someone should be drunk.

You were in a fit of hiccups, giggling to yourself as May bent down to take off your heels. You had far too many drinks, that much was clear.

"Maaay, you.." you hiccupped, "are suuuch a good.." you hiccupped again, "friend."

May shook her head with a sigh, taking in the drunken sight of you. She was not sure how you managed to let yourself get this far gone, but every time you would drink, this is how you ended up. Either you had zero limits or you loved to push the limits you did have.

"Pet-" May started to call over her shoulder, but Peter was already hurrying in the room with his hands full.

"I'm here, Aunt May." Peter reminded and she watched as Peter sat the trash can nearby the couch. He then placed the bottle of water on the table with some medicine for the headache he knew would come with your awake in the morning. He kneeled down beside you on the couch, pressing the rag to your forehead.

May only smiled to herself as she pulled the blanket from its spot on the back of the couch and pulled it over your figure. She didn't say anymore. Peter had seen his Aunt May take care of you many nights when you were so shit-faced it was a wonder you could still see faces.

Your head was propped up against a pillow on the couch as Peter wiped your forehead with the cool rag. Your skin was burning up. Peter could not help but wonder how you let yourself get like this. You were quite a few years younger than May, but it amazed him how different the two of you were to be the best of friends.

You were fast asleep in no time, making Peter smile as his eyes gazed over your face. He had always thought you were so beautiful. Too precious to be taken advantage of by the guys you went after. He witnessed many nights when you had told Aunt May about a new guy you had hooked up with. Everyone knew it was nothing more than a one-night stand, but Peter could not help but hate any guys that touched you only for only their benefit.

It was not until you had eventually settled down with a guy you had met from one of your nightstands that you finally stopped ending up on May's couch. You had moved on with your life, still keeping in contact with May every now and then. You were happy. Not just the sex but he was truly seemed like a guy you could see yourself spending forever with.

You had stopped drinking. You had stopped going out to parties. After the first year, you had moved into the city and got an apartment together. Another year later, you guys were engaged and everything seemed to fall into place. After 3 years, the wedding was right around the corner.

Your world moved at a quicker pace now considering all the things you needed to get done before the wedding. In between work and house chores, you were planning for your big day.

As time went by, you were so wrapped up in your own little world you did not notice the slow-burning flame in your partner slowly being put out. While your plans had been coming together, your relationship was falling apart. You had for the most part ignored all the signs and assumed he was having a bad day. It amazed you how many he was having. When you would try to talk to him, it seemed useless since you could never get him to talk about it. In reality, it all brewed into something bigger. It all hit you like a ton of bricks.

You had been working later hours than usual for extra money. It wasn't cheap, but you had told yourself it was okay to want the things you wanted. After all, this was going to be your first and hopefully wedding. You wanted everything to be perfect. You even tried to get opinions from your fiance to include his vision of it, but he insisted you were better at this sort of thing. You couldn't argue with that.

You wrapped up your work at the office fairly early so you decided to call it a night and surprise your fiance. You felt like everything was on track. One night worry-free was much needed. You had earned it.

You pushed open the front door to your apartment before walking through the living room into the kitchen. You sit your keys on the counter, placing your bag on the stool by the counter. You peered around the apartment for a moment. All the lights were off and it was quiet. Had he already gone to bed? You checked the time.

7:13pm

You were surprised you did not hear his game or at least him yelling at it. You started down the hallway to the bedroom you shared, staring at the closed door. Why was it closed when it was just him? You shook the thought a little too soon. Maybe if you had just thought a little longer, you would have prepared yourself for what was on the other side.

You pushed the door open just a little to see inside when you heard a faint moan from the other side. Your heart stopped. You stood in shock taking in the sight of the man you were in love with hovered over another girl in your bed under your covers. Your face was hot in embarrassment, anger. You were feeling so many things right now you could not think straight. You were hurt.

"Are you serious??" You blurted out, causing them both to jump to try and cover themselves.

"You're sick, Chris." She shoved his chest, pushing him off of her as she quickly got out of the bed. "He told me you guys were no longer together."

She scowled as she hurried to gather her clothes off the floor and pulling them on. If it were even possible, your eyes could have burned holes through the girl. You were in disbelief. Your jaw would have already been on the floor if it wasn't connected to your face.

"I'm so sorry." She mumbled, embarrassed as she hurried past you out of your apartment.

You were left to deal with Chris. You starred at him with tears kissing your eyes.

"I-"

You took a deep breath, shaking your head. "Don't."

"I can explain." He started to get out of the bed to dress.

"There's nothing to explain, Chris." You stared at him, trying to restrain yourself from coming across the room and punching him in the face for acting like an explanation could even justify his actions.

"She meant nothing to me." He started to walk over to you.

“You told her we weren’t together. How is that nothing?”

“It felt like we weren’t. You were so busy.” He tried to touch your arm but you shoved his hand away.

"Don't you dare think about touching me when you were just touching another woman." You looked at him with dark eyes, struggling to fight back the cry. He wasn't worth your tears. "I want you to get out."

"Get out?! Where am I gonna go?"

"I don't know." You shrugged your shoulders. "Maybe you could have thought that through."

He frowned, running his fingers through his hair frustrated. "It doesn't have to be like this. Can't we just talk this out?"

"No!" You shouted at him, making his eyes grow wide. You could tell he wasn't telling this as seriously as you. "I don't want to look at you right now." You turn to leave the room, but he grabs your arms to turn you to face him.

"Please. Look, I can- I can stay on the couch tonight. I'll give you your space and when you're ready we can talk about it. I was wrong for that. I fucked up and I'm sorry." You yanked yourself from his hold.

"You can give me space by leaving. Pack yourself a bag and go."

"I love you, Y/n. I never meant to hurt you."

You shook your head as your eyes wandered over the bed to where they once were before meeting his eyes. "You mean you never meant to get caught."

He sighed before hanging his head in defeat and walking by you to gather up some of his things. You didn't move from your spot. Only stared at the mess of a bed. The place you made love to him while he made love to another. You listened to the front door close behind him on his way out before you finally covered your face, letting the tears fall.

For days, weeks, all you could seem to do was feel sorry for yourself. You couldn't find the strength to get out of bed. No matter how many calls you received, you let them ring through to voicemail. Everything you had felt for him was in ruins. You changed for him. You let yourself grow for him and even that wasn't enough. After all the time you spent picking up after him, cooking, cleaning, planning, staying loyal for crying out loud. You didn't know what else he could of you.

You had called off the wedding in the time you stayed closed up in your apartment. Even took some time off of work to handle it all. You took that time to gather every piece of him scattered around the apartment and packed it up. You wanted to end this as painless as possible aside from the pain you were already feeling. You had thrown away the sheets and replaced them, even get a new comforter and it still didn't feel the same anymore to lay in your bed. You stared at your phone beside you as it lit up for what felt like the hundredth time. You finally sighed, lifting the phone. You knew without even looking at the name it was from him.

You canceled the wedding? It doesn't have to be like this. I still love you, Y/n. You were so busy with work and all the planning. You abandon me. Whenever I wanted your attention, you were always too tired to pay any attention to me.

It's like the girl I fell in love with was gone. Some time ago, you couldn’t keep your hands off of me now it’s like I have to beg you to touch me.

You're being selfish.

You can't be THAT mad, Y/n. I’m a man. I have needs. You were busy and she was willing to help. We can fix this. Don’t give up 3 years. Don’t give up on me.

There were loads more, but you could not care to bother reading the rest. You tossed your phone back down on the bed, rubbing your hands over your face. You didn't owe him anything, not even a response. The girl he was talking about was not gone. She was only on hold to plan a wedding by herself and it was more stressful than he knew. You wanted to forget everything that had happened. You wanted to forget you wasted 3 years of your life planning on growing old with this man.

--

You weren't sure how you had got this far and with that being said, May wasn't either. You had talked May into joining you to a night out at a club. She needed a night to herself and you needed a break from everything. Along with that, if you had stayed inside that house a moment longer, you might have gone insane.

"You're going to be hammered if you keep on like that." May reminded with a laugh, both of you clinging onto the bar and each other for the extra support. You thanked the bartender as he pushed your last round of shot glasses in front of the two of you.

You smiled, passing a glass to May before keeping one for yourself.

"We can only hope." You winked at the bartender who only chuckled before clinking your shot glass with hers and downing your shot.

Your throat was already numb from all the alcohol you had already numbed it with. May wasn't far behind you. You took your final shot, grinning and pulling May along with you to the dancefloor to get lost in the sea of people. You threw your arms around May's, moving your hips as you both danced to the music.

This was the therapy you needed. Sometimes you had longed for nights like this. You had freedom. You had no worries, aside from worrying who you might wake up beside. But you had fallen in love and even though you had grown up, you had not nearly grown out of this lifestyle. It was all too familiar.

"Hey! I'm going to the bathroom! I'll be back!" May moved closer to you, raising her voice to be heard over the loud music. You nodded, watching her pushing her way through the crowd of people to get to the ladies' bathroom before easing yourself back into your dancing.

You swayed, grinding your hips with the rest of the crowd. You weren't the slightest bit bothered to be dancing by yourself. You used to lose yourself on the dancefloor for hours days after days years ago.

"I've missed this." You heard a familiar voice speak from behind you, startling you when their hands landed on your hips with your sway. They pulled you back against them, catching you off guard. "I've missed you." He mumbled in your ear, sending chills down your spine.

You peaked over your shoulder to make sure your mind was not playing tricks on you. It wasn't. You prayed it was an old one-night stand, but of course, it was the one person you were trying to get away from.

"It doesn't work like that, Chris." You dropped your hands down to his on your hips, trying to push them off your hips but they only hold you tighter. "Get- get off of me." You gritted through your teeth as your eyes glared at him. "Get off!" You raised your voice.

"Now, now, let's not cause a scene. You've had quite a bit to drink haven't you?" He wrapped your arms around your figure, making your blood run cold as his body pressed to yours.

"That's none of your business."

"I'm your fiance. You are my business."

"Ex." You corrected him. His nose flared slightly.

"You really want to go there? You're nothing without me. You're shit-faced in the middle of the club and you can't even accept my help?" He growled and you pushed on his arms.

"I don't need your help."

"You're drunk. You don't know what you need." He spat.

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted your argument. "I think I've got it from here." You looked up to put a face to the voice, your eyes widening slightly.

"And you are?" Chris didn't budge while staring down Peter as if challenging him.

Peter was reaching his hand out for yours. "Her boyfriend." You stared up at Peter in shock at how much he had changed over the years and he smiled reassuringly.

Chris stiffed slightly and you could feel his eyes burning a hole into you. "Is that true?"

You didn't take your eyes off of Peter, taking a hold of his hand and letting him pull you out of Chris's arms. "Yes." Your voice was hushed.

Chris scowled. "Wow. I wish you luck there, man. She's a real catch." He laughed, making you look down. You couldn't believe he was really trying to ruin your night when he had already ruined everything else.

Peter only snaked his arm around your waist, letting his hand settle on your hip while his eyes never left Chris's. "She certainly is." He agreed. He gave your body a warm squeeze, grabbing you closer into his embrace. "Now, if you'll excuse us."

With that, he guided you through the crowd off of the dance floor.

"You okay?" He finally broke the silence once he got you back to the bar, sitting you down on one of the stools.

You nodded, letting your eyes wander up to him as he motioned the bartender over. "I'm just curious as to why you're here right now. Aren't you supposed to be in college?"

He smiled as he pulled out his wallet to pay your tab and you grabbed his hand, shaking your head. "No, no. I can pay for my own."

"What if I insist?"

"You don't have to, honestly. I have money."

You started to reach into your purse for some cash but Peter covered your hand, giving you another reassuring smile.

"You'll have plenty of other times to pay. I'll get it this time." He reminded you and you sighed in defeat, giving him a playful scowl. He only grinned, proceeding to pull some cash from his wallet to give to the bartender.

"You didn't answer my question." You continued as he turned back to you.

"I'm still college. I just sometimes stay with Aunt May on the weekends."

"And you just so happened to be here?"

Peter chuckled, pointing in May's direction as she stumbled over her feet returning back to the two of us. "Aunt May called."

You raised your eyebrow, looking over at May as she stood beside you now. "You called Peter?"

"Someone has to get you back home." She reminded you and you hit her arm slightly, tilting your head.

"May, I could have got a taxi or an uber. You didn't have to call him for me." You scowled at her and she shook her head in a tsking manner.

"No, no, no. I called Peter so I can rest assured you got home safely and not by some random stranger."

You rolled your eyes slightly and Peter butted in with an awkward chuckle. "I really don't mind. I don't consider this anything out of the way. I'd rather it be me than some stranger or someone." He noticed him giving the floor a swift scan around the three of you.

"Fine." You pouted your bottom lip slightly before rising from your seat at the bar. "You guys make me feel irresponsible or something." You grabbed a hold of May's arm and pulling her with you to the exit of the club while Peter followed behind the two of you.

"Are you coming?" You muttered over to May and she shook her head.

"Happy is here." Just as the words left her mouth when you started out the door, you spotted Happy parked in front of the building to pick up May. "Peter isn't too bad of a driver." You stopped in front of Happy's car.

"Oh goody, rest secured." You muttered and she laughed. Your arms looped around May's neck, hugging her tight. "I'm so glad to have you back. Message me when you get home." You told her and Happy a quick goodnight before letting her go.

Peter led you over to his car, unlocking the car and opening the passenger side for you. You settled comfortably in the front seat, leaning your head back against the headrest. You didn't like how it felt as if you couldn't take care of yourself, but you were in no position to complain when Peter Parker had yet again saved the day.

--

Peter glanced over at you in the passenger seat from time to time as he drove the distance to your apartment. He tried to keep the glances quick to keep you from noticing. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. It had been years since he had actually seen you, but you seemed like the Y/n he still remembered. Not that it was anything bad. He adored you then, and now a bit more.

He had always had the hots for you for as long as you remembered. Of course, you never minded when you ended up staying with him and Aunt May. You were always kind to Peter and he did his best to nurse you back to health to take on the hangover that awaited you the next morning.

He had never forgotten what you said to him one day while you were sick from the night before. You had been clinging onto the toilet and he had taken the opportunity to hold your hair back out of your face to keep from getting anything in it.

You sighed as he rubbed your back in soothing circles. You leaned against the toilet miserably. That was the day you learned to stay away from tequila.

"I hope I meet a guy at least half as amazing as you someday, Peter."

No doubt did the compliment find its way to his cheeks. He blushed a deep shade of red. He tried to restrain himself from making a big deal but it was a big deal to him. Though he knew he didn't stand a chance right now with his age, it meant if he had been of age, he had a chance. He thought about it even when you had stopped coming around so much. He knew this was all a coping method for you. You were hurting then and he could tell by the way you seemed toward the guy back there that there was more to that counter.

He noticed your shiver as you stared out the window. You mentally cursed yourself for wearing something this revealing. You rubbed your arms to try to warm yourself a little. Peter reached behind him in the back seat to retrieve a hoodie of his he always forgot in the car and handing it to you.

"Here." He offered before fumbling with the heat in the car. He smiled at your quiet thank you, putting your arms in the hoodie and pulling it close for warmth with putting it all the way on. He tried to control the big grin threatening to break across his face.

"I'm sorry you had to keep seeing me like this." You looked over at Peter as he kept his eyes on the road. He didn't realize how thankful you were for him in times like this. It was embarrassing how many times this had happened but you were still thankful Peter didn't think any less of you.

"You really don’t have to apologize.” He smiled at her before turning his attention back to the road.

“I really do though. I feel like you’ve taken care of me enough. I’m grown, you know? It should be the other way around.” You giggled and Peter glanced over at you.

“I’m 21.” He reminded you.

“And I’m pushing 30.”

“You’re 28. You’re still young.” He chuckled.

“Almost 29!” You huffed as he pulled into the parking lot to your apartment. “My point is- you know what my point is.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at your frustration. Your age didn’t matter to him. He could always settle for his MJ, his best friend, but seeing you tonight relit the flame to his crush for you. There was just something about you.

He parked the car in the parking lot, walking around to your side to open the door for you. You slid your arms out of his hoodie and leaving it in the seat as he helped you out of the car. You could feel the shots hitting you all at once when you stood. You stumbled out in your heels, grabbing onto Peter’s arms for support.

“Easy now.” He held onto your waist as he guided you to your apartment, asking for your keys. He took your keys when you dug them out of your pocket, letting you in your apartment.

You couldn’t help but notice all the little things he did for you. You kicked off your heels at the door, stumbling over your own two feet again as you wandered down the hallway to your bedroom. You could hear Peter in the kitchen getting you a bottle of water from the fridge along with some medicine from the medicine cabinet.

You sat on the bed when you hear his footsteps coming down the hallway toward the bedroom. You looked up at him, pouting your bottom lip out slightly when you saw him with a bottle of water and medicine for the headache to come.

He set them down on your nightstand, noticing your pout. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Peter, you’re seriously too good to me.” You sighed.

“How’s that?” He looked down at you as he towered over you.

You motioned over to the stuff he had placed on your nightstand and frowning. “All of this. You- you really didn’t have to do this for me.”

“You’re right I don’t. But I want to. I would want it done for me if I were ever in your shoes.”

You laughed slightly at the thought of Peter drunk and you smiled to yourself. “I would definitely be there anytime you needed me.”

You thought back to all the time you had ever been drunk, remembering all the time you woke up to water and medicine from him. Only from him. Even a trash can in case you were to ever get sick, but you never got that with Chris. You always took care of him, but no one ever took care of you. You shook your head with a frown. You had tried so hard to hold it together, but it felt like you were slowly falling apart. He wasn't worth your tears, yet he was always the cause of them.

He kneeled down in front of you, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Talk to me. Everything okay?”

You couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “Why am I never enough?”

His eyes widened at your words. “You are more than enough and anyone who doesn’t see that, who doesn’t appreciate you and the things you do for them doesn’t deserve you.” He corrected you, his thumb stroked over your jaw as he held your face to keep your attention.

You didn't know what to say. All you could do was stare. Your eyes scanned over his face before stopping at his lips. Don't. Don't you do it. You mentally told yourself. You couldn't control the effect the alcohol had on your mind and your actions. You tried to fight back the urge but the alcohol only pushed down the buriers you had built.

Your lips smashed against his firmly, catching him by surprise. He was frozen about your lips for a first, in shock, this was actually happening but he surely gave in the kiss. Your hands grabbed at the back of his neck and pulling him onto the bed with you without breaking the hungry desperate kiss. His body hovered over yours as your fingers curled against his shirt, gripping on it. You knew it was wrong. It was so wrong, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

Your smaller hands slid underneath his shirt, brushing your hands over his defined abs. He was sculpted by a God. He knew he should stop, but he couldn't find it in him to stop. He didn't want to miss his chance to prove himself to you. He wanted to take care of you.

Your lips parted for air even though you left like you could hardly catch your breath when his lips started to kiss down your neck. Your hands tugged on his shirt until you started to pull it up and over your head.

His hands pushed your tight dress up the curves of your body, tossing it beside the bed once he peeled it from your body. Your lips still tingled from the loss of his and you whined quietly, your hand grasped the curls at the nape of his neck to bring his lips back to yours.

He kissed your lips passionately and letting your lips mold together. He could taste the alcohol on your tongue but it didn't bother him any. He had dreamed of this moment since he was a teen. Your fingers worked desperately to undo his jeans, feeling his bulge already through his pants before your hands pushed his pants off of his hips along with your boxers.

You were so desperate. You couldn't stop the whine that escaped against his lips. "Peter, please..." His cock twitched at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

He dragged your panties down your legs swiftly, placing himself back between them when he spread them open again. He peppered light kisses to your lips as he dragged the tip of precum-coated tip through your folds, not wasting any time to give you what you wanted.

You cried out as you clung to Peter's bareback, feeling his cock stretching you in all the ways you craved. You moaned out, letting him swallow them in a kiss as his hips rolled into yours again and again. He sighed in pleasure against your lips as your walls invited him in. You were even better than he could have imagined.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening. His lips covered your body in his kisses, admiring every part of your body as it sang for him. This was nothing like what you used to. He pressed small kisses against your bottom lip, nibbling on it as your core ached with a building climax. Your legs wrapped around his hips, causing you to gasp at the deeper strokes.

Your head fell back against the pillows, a loud moan drawing from your parted lips. Your fingers held onto Peter's hair as he hit that spot over and over, making your eyes roll slightly. You needed so badly for him to stop, but you couldn't bring the words to the surface.

"Oh my god..." Your core tightened with every deep thrust. His cock touched parts of you no guy had ever. You had never felt a climax so fast or so strong. "Please don't stop..." You couldn't fight the words from coming out. Your grip tightened on his dark hair, feeling yourself falling apart with an orgasm with every thrust.

"You're so pretty when you cum." He couldn't stop even if he wanted to. He was not far behind you by the way your walls sucked him in, milking him for all he was worth.

"Do it again. I want to make you cum again." He groaned against your chest as his tongue dragged over your hardened nipple, flicking his tongue against it teasingly before letting out a groan against your warm skin. He didn't want it to stop. He didn't want it to end. "You feel so good, Y/n..."

His hand reached between the two of you, rolling his fingers over your clit in circles. You gripped onto his wrist at the overpowering feeling. You were soaked to the core. This man made you crumble.

"I-I'm gonna cum.." His voice cracked slightly as your walls clenched around him tight In your second orgasm, pushing him over the edge into his first. His cum filled you full, marking you as he pressed delicate kisses across your neck while praising you in the process. "So beautiful, so perfect."

Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, smiling to yourself when Peter laid down on the bed behind you. He wrapped an arm around your body, pulling you back against his chest.

It only took a matter of seconds for sleep to claim you as Peter pulled a blanket over the both of you tiredly. It was only a matter of time before the morning came to rain on your parade. Bringing along the guilt and regret that followed.

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #dark!marvel #tom holland fan fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #dub con #peter parker one shot #dark!tom holland

[nepenthendline]

Heyyy, could you do a headcannon post for tsukki, kenma, suga, Kageyama, and kurro, and how they would go about proposing to their s/o. I love your writing btw!!! 💜

proposal hcs make me so sOFT, and thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺 It means a lot! I’m going to bury myself in these hcs to get rid of the stress my uni are giving me rn also kageyama’s is so long omg i got a little carried away

slight timeskip spoilers (kenma, sugawara, kageyama, kuroo)

Requests are open!

Proposal Headcanons - Tsukishima, Kenma, Sugawara, Kageyama and Kuroo

Tsukishima:

Tsukishima wasn’t one for extravagant publics displays of love and affection, so his proposal wouldn’t be either

he wanted it to be natural, not some crazy, over-the-top event that had everyone in the neighbourhood witnessing

it would be around 5-10 years (depending on how old you were when you started dating) of being together when Tsukishima decided he wanted to marry you, it’s not that he never thought about it, he just wanted to be sure this was the right decision for both of you

he had mentioned marriage to you one night a few months before proposing to test the waters and see your opinion so that he could gauge whether you would say yes or not

he took Yamaguchi with him to pick out a ring, he was great friends with you too so he knew your style and preferences well to help out Tsukishima

the proposal itself what somewhat planned, he knew the day he was going to do it but, other than that, he left it open to change

the two of you had gone for an evening walk across a pathway that overlooked the town, something you two do often to wind down

you two hadn’t spoke much, a comfortable, warm silence surrounding you besides pointing out the odd squirrel or brief check-ups on each others day

both of you had stopped at a railing on your walk, leaning against it to watch the sun set over the tall buildings

his hand was in yours, brushing his thumb over the back of it as he looked out to the view

“I love you (Y/N),” his voice was quiet but it seemed certain

he wasn’t the kind of man that told you he loved you multiple times a day, it was reserved for special moments and the times where he couldn’t get how lucky he was to have you out of his mind

“I love you too Kei,” you didn’t need to be loud, or shout your confession to the world to know that you both meant it deeply

“Marry me,” it sounded more like a instruction than a question and his gaze hadn’t left the sky

“W-what?” had you heard him wrong? was this a joke?

he turned his eyes to you, locking them with yours - this was the most serious and sincere you had ever seen him

“Marry me,” he repeated

you stood with your mouth slightly open, eyes wide as he pulled out a box from his pocket, opening it to display a simple, yet stunning ring

“I always thought that if you went for what you truly wanted, it would just end in pain and disappointment, that all the effort and sentiment would be for nothing, but with you it’s so easy. I might never be, but I want to become the best man for you, that you deserve, so marry me.”

Kenma:

gets married for tax purposes

marriage was not something Kenma had ever though about in his life growing up

he never thought he would get married or find someone he had a connection with and, honestly, he was fine with that

he didn’t really see the appeal of it in the first place

it wasn’t until many years down the line of being with you and his friends around him getting into relationships when he started to consider the possibility

the first time it came into his head was at Kuroo’s wedding

he spent most of the time wishing he could go home and get out of this uncomfortable suit, but there were times when he say Kuroo’s beaming smile that he was glad he came

some of the ex-nekoma team members had poked at him with questions of when he was going to get ‘hitched’, which he responded to with a sigh

he certainly wasn’t going to propose because others told him he needed to

the next time it crossed his mind was when he started a new game that his fans had recommended he play

it was a romance game which wasn’t his usual go-to genre, but it had incredible reviews and created a storm in the gaming world so he thought he might as well check it out

through the game he got to witness an endearing story of a couple that went at odds to be together

the story delved into their married life and all the little things they enjoyed together through the years

he didn’t really want to admit it, but it did make him feel a little emotional

he saw himself and you in the characters, as if he was watching his own life play out on his screen

every now and then you and Kenma played some games together so you could spend time with him and he could show you want had been interesting him lately, so he decided to show you this game

you thought it was adorable, so heartwarming yet a little sad at points, but you had always been a little more outwardly emotional then Kenma

“imagine if we got married haha, how cute would that be!” you gushed out in the moment without thinking as you played

“eh...I guess” it wasn’t really the answer you were hoping for, but at least he didn’t sound utterly disgusted by the thought

you continued to play with him for a while, tucked into his side and making comments every now and then

a particular endearing part was plating on the screen and your eyes shone as they fixated on the characters

he could tell by the glassy look that you were getting a little affected by the story, but you looked so cute

the way your lip pouted ever so slightly, and how you gripped at his hoodie, as if to steady yourself

he had a sudden rush of adoration for you, he really did love you and the last couple years of you living together had been wonderful, how he got to wake up beside you, do daily chores with you, how you supported him in his many careers

“Maybe we should get married,” he blurted out, you whipped your head towards him so fast you almost got whiplash

“Are you...proposing?” you questioned, with somewhat of a laugh in your voice

“huh...looks like I am.”

Sugawara:

Sugawara was sensible, mature, a little bit of a tease and sometimes chaotic if Daichi wasn’t watching but also traditional

he had often thought about what it would be like to grow up, get married and have a family

it wouldn’t take long before he knew he wanted to marry you, even throughout the 3 years you had already been together he had daydreamed about marrying you more times than he could count

from all the memories you had together, all the times you helped enough other in rough patches and the learning the two of you wanted to continue in the future had him certain that he wanted you beside him forever

so he set out his plan

he took his old teammates, Daichi and Asahi with him on a hunt to find the perfect ring

Daichi was there to keep him in check and calm his nerves, although Asahi was probably the most nervous and Asahi had a great eye for stylish, beautiful pieces due to his designing career

now it was time to plan

he didn’t want it to be crazy, but he wanted it to be something, a whole event in itself

so he scheduled a meal for the two of you and some of your friends

it was at quite a fancy restaurant in the evening and your group had its own secluded table at the back, surrounded with dividers from the rest of the restaurant

all of you spent the meal catching up and laughing, but Sugawara seemed a little quieter than usual

you had asked him if he was ok, but he just replied with an ‘of course!’ and a smile, so you let it be

Asahi was shaking but you put that off to general anxiety

you guys had ordered desserts and everyone had gotten theirs first

as the waiter brought yours over, the table went silent

the waiter came from your left, Sugawara on your right, so you had looked over as he came

as he set the plate down, you noticed the words spelled out in chocolate sauce 

“Will you marry me?” 

you gasped and turned towards Sugawara, who was now on one knee next to you, holding out an open ring box

“I have known for so long that I wanted to marry you. You’re beautiful, smart, courageous and so loving, and I want to have you by my side forever. I promise I will continue to grow as your partner and take care of you every step of the way, so, will you marry me?”

Kageyama:

the only thing in this boy’s brain is you and volleyball, its all his one braincell can cope with

that being said, he has never once thought about marriage

his whole life he has spend all his energy and focus on becoming a better player, the best setter he possibly can and standing on the court longer

but you were the first person to get him, to understand him and accept him as is while helping him improve and grow

you helped him to open up and communicate with people better

you helped him whenever he was frustrated with volleyball and a certain play he was working tirelessly on

you never once turned your back on him when he struggled or lost his temper

you were his partner, but it was different from a volleyball partner

he cared for you, every part of you, and always wanted to know if you were ok or spend time with you

you made him genuinely smile everyday and he knew that he wanted to be your partner for life

it came about when he was hanging out with Hinata on one of their rare days off to catch up

he had been talking about you constantly, expressing how much he loved you and adored you

“Why don’t you just marry them?” Hinata questioned with his held tilted, as if it was obvious

“w-what? Hinata boke!” he shouted as his face grew red and pushed Hinata aside

the two talked about it and Kageyama decided, very bashfully, that yeah, he should just marry you

but how does he ask you that?

he knew nothing about marriage or proposals, so he spend the next few weeks asking his friends, teammates, even his coach on how to propose to you

“Take them to an expensive restaurant!”

“Wouldn’t it be cute to propose in Disneyland??”

“Well, I proposed to my partner by sending them on a scavenger hunt”

he was bombarded with ideas, but none of them seemed right

none of them seemed like him

he was getting frustrated with the pressure of coming up with a good way to ask you to be his forever, it had to be perfect, it had to be special and it had to fit with your relationship

you noticed he was getting agitated a lot more recently, he was quieter and snapped more often, he stayed back later at the gym to train and he rarely ate dinner with you anymore

whenever you asked what the problem was, he replied with an ‘it’s nothing’ and stormed off

his teammates had noticed too and were less than pleased with his attitude as it affected their gameplay

one of his teammates had begged you to come to the gym and talk some sense into him when he started continuously overworking himself

it was 7pm when you set off from your house to the gym where he was still training

as you entered, you noticed that he was the only one here, hitting serve after serve that never seemed to land right

“Tobio,” you called out

“Baby,” you tried again but you couldn’t catch his attention from his deep focus on the ball

you walked over to him and lightly grabbed his arm, stopping him from serving the ball again

“Tobio, what’s wrong? Everyone is worried about you. Are you having trouble with a play? Because we can sort that out with your coach-”

he cut you off by mumbling something under his breath, much too quiet for you to hear

“What was that?” 

“I want to ask you to marry me and I don’t know how,” he said louder this time, his eyes staring at the ball in his hand as he gripped it tightly

“O-oh, right...” you were stunned, speechless, this wasn’t something you thought you would hear from him

“Everyone’s been telling me how to do it, but none of them seem right,” his voice was low and his gaze still hadn’t let the ball

you put a finger under his chin and lifted his face towards you

“It doesn’t need to be what everyone else tells you, we can do things our own way,” you tried to comfort him with a smile and he simply stared back at you

“So go on then,” you were beaming at him by now, yet his face got even tighter with confusion

“Go on, ask me to marry you.”

his jaw hung wide open, his eyes seemed to be staring into your skull like he had seen a ghost, this is certainly not what he expected

he tried to speak a couple times, stumbling on his words as they got caught in his throat

“It’s ok, take your time,” you brushed your thumb over the back of his hand as you held it, encouraging him to continue

“w-will you....will...willyoumarryme?”

BONUS: you two picked out a ring together afterwards, this boy has no sense of style, don’t trust him by himself

Kuroo:

Kuroo had jokingly asked you to marry time multiple times throughout your relationship

the first couple times ended with you being a blushing mess while he teased you

but by now you just tell him to shut up go off sis

marrying you had always been part of the plan for him, just a natural progression of your relationship

while Kuroo can be quite the tease, he was extremely serious of his relationship with you and your future

he started off his plan by asking your dad if he would like to spend the day together, you know, father-son-in-law bonding time

what your dad wasn’t prepared for was Kuroo to turn up in a shirt, suit trousers and confess how he wanted to marry you

he had a whole speech prepared about how he would be the best husband for you, how he would be sure to take good care of you and, possibly, be the best father in the future if you planned to have children

you dad had to eventually shut him up as Kuroo kept going, saying how he would be delighted to have you marry the man

step one: check

now he needed to find the right ring

he had a look around at multiple stores but he couldn’t find anything that was unique enough to be called yours and that captured you or your relationship

since Kuroo had quite the high-paying job plus a little backing from a certain famous youtuber so the cost wasn’t an issue and he wanted to spoil you

so he got one custom made

he sat with a designer for hours creating the most stunning, distinctive ring that he knew you would love

step two: check

over the next couple days he planned a meet-up evening with your family and his where he would pop the question

you both had spent the day cooking and preparing for the evening before they all come to your house

you had all finished dinner and moved over to the living room to chat

Amidst all the chatter, Kuroo stood up and cleared his throat, grabbing everyone’s attention

“I have something I’d like to say,” he said with confidence, then turning to you with a grin

“The last few years with you have been perfect. We’ve had some ups and downs, but we have made so many amazing memories together. You really are my other half and I think everyday about how truly lucky I am to call you mine. You know me better than anyone else. I know I’ve asked you this a couple times in the past when we’re laughing together, but this time I’m serious,”

he got down on one knee, holding one of your hands while presenting the custom ring in the other

“will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

and the crowd goes wild

Tagging @togasknifes so she can read Kageyama ty ly

#wow its tsukki loving hours #i legit got emotional over kageyamas ok #I acc really like these #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #Tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kozume kenma #kozume kenma x reader #sugawara x reader #Kenma x reader #sugawara koushi #Sugawara koushi x reader #kageyama tobio #Kageyama x reader #Kageyama tobio x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurō #Kuroo x reader #Kuroo testurou x reader #haikyuu fanfiction

[sunflowersseemhappy]

The Arcana | Little Romantic Gestures Headcannons

Asra

A lot of Asra’s little romantic gestures are aimed at getting you to smile, he spent so long watching you struggle after he brought you back that all he wants is to see you happy.

Ever since he started travelling Asra has always brought souvenirs from his trips. Things he thinks you’ll like. Although he knows you so well that what he brings you never fails to make you happy at how thoughtful he is. It’s only after the whole ‘saving the world thing’ that you realise this was a gesture of his affection for you all those years.

Tied in with bringing you souvenirs Asra loves to spoil you every once in a while with a outfit tailored to you. Clothes that make you look stunning in the most modest of ways, leading to everyone else complimenting you. Asra has a critical eye when it comes to fashion and making the love of his life look good.

His goofiest gesture is probably making heart shaped foods for you, this only began after his confession of love (before then he made little animals and flowers from the food he gave you). Its an intricate process, but Asra definitely has the patience.

Once every-so-often Asra will ask if you want to bathe together, there is generally no other reason than he wants to pamper you/feel you close to him. Asra will draw a bath and cradle you in the water, and you’ll both just talk and give each other soft kisses.

When the night is waning and the candles burn low Asra will ask to cuddle in close with yo u and puts his head against your chest listening to the beating of your heart. He doesn’t consider it his anymore, he gave it to you, therefore it is yours. But he hopes the connection between your hearts will always be this strong.

Julian

Julian can be a little distracted when if comes to romantic gestures, big ones get lost in his planning for them. The little romantic gestures Julian gives you have no plans, just him and his complete adoration for you.

It’s like clockwork. Julian is awake as soon as the sun rises and quickly brings you morning coffee/tea/or whatever you favourite morning wake up beverage is. It’s simple and maybe you do or don’t notice it, but it’s always fresh, like he knows exactly when you’ll wake up and makes it just before you do. If you manage to catch him after he leaves it on your bedside table you give him a good morning kiss (he deserves it).

If either of you are out and separated from each other for the day Julianhides lovely little notes in your pockets. Poems, quotes, even simple ‘I love you’’s. One is always there, you save each and every one in a box under your bed and look through them while he’s gone. You plan to one day stuff them all in his coat as both a prank and a grand romantic gesture. He has the same idea, so right now it’s a waiting game to see who gets to it first.

He doesn’t necessarily do it on purpose or even in your presence, but Julian absentmindedly sketches little portraits of you in the margins of his books/scrolls/whatever paper is on hand. He’s committed you to memory and when he realises Julian gets flustered, is it weird that he just does that? After you discover a whole sketchbook of you, you pretend not to know even though you secretly love it. He can show you when he’s ready.

If he’s drunk or sober Julian will shamelessly flirt with you when he knows you need some love. He loves it when you do so back. Most of it is PG, but if you want him to Julian will most certainly compliment you on your finest assets *wink, wink*.  

Anywhere and anytime Julian will just stop, look into your eyes, smile and honestly tell you how much he loves you. It’s probably the most beautiful gesture of love you can think of, its just that pure. 

 Nadia

The moments spent with Nadia would usually be considered mundane to most, but that’s what makes them so pleasant. As a countess and former princess, Nadia doesn’t usually get to enjoy ‘normal’ so the moments spent with you are the best sense of normality that she can get.

Nadia is such a busy bee that by the time you wake up she’s off doing her morning duties, so she (like Julian) leaves you little love notes, usually accompanied by breakfast. The notes are always written in her hand, on scented paper and laid with a beautiful flower. On more than a few occasions her notes have made up mini scavenger hunts, just to keep you on your feet and lead you to where she is in the castle at a later time.

If she can avoid morning duties Nadia will spend time helping you with hair and makeup, she likes making you feel beautiful/handsome/gorgeous and just looking at your face brings a smile to her lips. Her skills always seem to make you look better and you wonder how she’s so good at it.

As anyone would Nadia finds your magical abilities fascinating and loves to watch you work on spells and the like, she also asks about things genuinely interested in what you are doing and how you do it. She thinks possessing such a skill as magic is like an extension of you yourself and she loves all of you (therefore she loves your magic). Given the chance Nadia could watch you work all day, alas palace duties call but she always asks you later in the day how that spell you had been working on went. 

Nadia is forever inviting you on long walks through the palace grounds at the end of her day. There’s nothing more relaxing than walking though the palace grounds and just talking about each other’s days. She’ll always let you talk about your day first, no matter how dull it may have been. She likes to find things out, figure out ways to entertain you while she is busy and plan out activities the two of you can try out together. She also just really likes listening to you, she’s had people talking AT her all day. It’s a nice change of pace to actually have a person to talk to about everything.

Tied in with doing your hair Nadia can’t help but play with your hair,she only usually does it in the privacy of your room but when she does you’re on cloud nine. Something about her hands trailing though your hair is so soothing that it sends you to sleep, which isn’t a problem in itself. The problem is; you fall asleep on her, and Nadia hates waking you up. So she just lies there and accepts her fate with a smile. 

 Muriel

Muriel doesn’t necessarily realise he’s making his little romantic gestures, to him they just feel like a normal part of his day but he’s glad to do them. They make him feel close to you and make him more comfortable with being in a relationship.

Muriel can cook, but he’s spent so long making meals that just state his hunger he forgot food could taste good. Since living with you and learning about you Muriel has discovered he quite likes making your favourite meals, not only because they are tasty but it’s nice seeing the smile on your face when you realise he made the meal just for you. Also you seem to like his way of making your favourites rather than your own.

It’s normal for Muriel to do his own chores around and out of the hut, and although you usually tell him to leave your own messes for you to clean up later Muriel can’t help but get itchy fingers. Doing your chores for you, he thinks he might as well, what’s more he wants to. You’re so busy running the shop, buying nice things for him and just making his life brighter, its only fair to lighten the load.

Even Muriel knows people like flowers, and what’s more you give flowers to the people you love. So Muriel finds flowers everyday and gives them to you, it might just be a single rose or a bundle of forget-me-nott’s but each flower he picks out is carefully chosen and perfect. It took him some time but Muriel soon figured out the perfect combinations of flowers to give to you, sometimes they say things better than he can.

Being the big shy boi he is Muriel remains pretty quiet when the two of you are out and about among other people. Even among your friends he can get pretty uncomfortable when trying to love and dote on you, therefore it’s not uncommon for Muriel to pull you aside to compliment you. It’s easier getting words out when it’s just the two of you and he wants you to know that he does notice things. Like how shiny your hair looks and how well your clothes suit you, it’s not just physical things either. He might mention how kind you are after helping a lost child find their parents or that he just really likes being with you. 

Once he’s gotten used to them being enveloped in a Muriel hug is probably always a great feeling.You don’t actually notice at first but he holds you in that embrace for a little longer than a normal hug (especially when you’re leaving to go on an errand, etc...), when your arms loosen his own take a little longer to do so. He gives you a gentle squeeze and sighs in his head, he wants to hold you longer. Forever, maybe. He’s too afraid to ask though, but when you finally do notice his hesitance and think back on all the times he was the last to let go, it clicks. You can be late opening the shop, as long as Muriel knows that you love him as much as he does you. You both hug each other a little longer. 

 Portia

Portia romantic gestures almost make it seem as if you are married already, her little gestures are comforting and you’re always aware she does them because she always states; ‘I’m doing this because I love you!’ She needs to make sure you know because she loves love, and loves you.

A good meal never goes amiss when it’s with Portia, you know how a lot of people leave the best thing on their plate till last? That’s what Portia does. However she always offers the last bite of her food to you, even if you’re eating the same meal. If you’re in the same room, eating at the same time Portia will lift her fork to your mouth and offer it to you. It’s usually quite funny because she kids around, making silly noises as she puts in your mouth or teasing you by holding it just out of reach.She’s a good cook, Portia’s peach cakes are to die for. 

She’s aware of how much you like her cooking, so when you’re off to work in the shop for the day she will pack you a hearty lunch and send you on your way with a kiss on the cheek. She want’s to make sure you have a balanced meal ready for you when you need it, it helps that she makes it because it’s irresistible! The first time you made a packed lunch for her (because damn this girl works hard, and how does she make the time?) she burst out crying saying how happy she was that you loved her enough to make her lunch. You figured out that that was one of Portia’s romantic gestures that day, now you make packed lunches together. 

Days off with Portia are full of sunshine and relaxation, most of which is spent in her veracious garden tending to the plants and chatting away about your week so far. It’s a peaceful pastime, when the sun is highest in the sky and it becomes too hot to work you and Portia take up residence beneath the maple tree she has growing on the fringes of the garden. There the two of you lay back and feed each other berries/fruit/veg from garden, there’s always something ripe and fresh that tastes like sunshine and rain. It’s got to the point where it’s become a part of your day, where Portia and you just flirt and kiss and enjoy the mundane parts of your lives. It’s her favourite thing to do.

She wouldn’t be Julian’s sister if Portia wasn’t a shameless flirt, she’ll do it anytime, anywhere and in front of anyone. She gets a certain kick out of seeing your cheeks redden, but she’s careful to keep it at a comfortable level for the situation. You wouldn’t think a simple ‘I love you’ could sound so... flirtatious but Portia may just be better at this than her brother.

Even Portia doesn’t realise she’s rubbing your back for no reason until she’s actually doing it. It’s not always a situational thing, but it often happens when your uncomfortable/scared, or when you’re relaxing. It makes the both of you feel better, you’re both together standing by each others side and figuring things out together. She’s glad the two of you can be there together, but she’s still not sure why she does it. After mentioning it to Julian, he says something about how their mother used to do it to the two of them when they were upset. Their mother had always whispered ‘I love you’ as she did so, Portia figured out it was her subconscious way of saying ‘I love you’. It was a strange time when you did it back, because for a moment she felt like she had her mother back. For a moment you made her feel complete. 

Lucio

Lucio’s extravagant, and so are his ‘little’ romantic gestures (it scares you to think what his big romantic gestures must look like). But whatever he does it’s with good intentions that become skewered when he goes over the top. You’re his king/queen, he intends to treat you as such.

One day Lucio, left alone as you tend the shop, thinks back to your conversation about favourite meals. He remembers you saying about a dish you loved but could never find a certain ingredient, so a scheme forms in the back of his mind. How better to express his love for his dearest by making their favourite meal. He debates getting the servants to make it, but... When you come back Lucio is nowhere to be found, you search everywhere and almost pass by the kitchens. There are audible crashes and some swearing, when you step in you find Lucio covered in flour. He’s very embarrassed, but explains that he found the ingredients and wanted to make it himself. He got confused and ended up making a mess instead, you can’t laugh because it’s almost too sweet that he tried. The next day you spend together is teaching Lucio to cook the dish and enjoying the fruits of your labour.

Lucio just so happens to like your face a lot, so he brings in an artist and commissions a portrait of you you. Only problem is he want’s it to be a surprise, but the artist can only paint what he can see and you’re not there. The end result is a culmination of his terribly drawn doodles and the vague descriptions he gave the artist. You’re horrified when you find it in your room. Lucio instantly throws it out and begs you to pose for the artist this time, he just wanted a really nice portrait of you so that even when you’re gone he can see your beautiful face. You insist that he poses with you and you get a much better portrait of you and Lucio.

You often humour Lucio while listening to his stories time and again, and he’s kind of aware that he’s probably told you a story before. He does about 90% of the talking in this relationship, but when you tell him stories he hangs on every word. While you let him ramble non-stop Lucio is always politely asking you to elaborate on things because he wants to hear more! No matter what Lucio has never once told you that he’s 'heard that story before'.He’d be fine with you saying it to him, but he could never do so to you. All he wants is to hang on your every word and see your face shift into different expressions, happiness, sadness, excitement and disgust. He wants to see it all because knowing every part of you as a person makes him happy and love you all the more.

Lucio believes the most romantic thing ever is people dancing together (at a point he thought it was fighting together, but the two are close enough), the way he saw people at his masquerades dance together made him long for the perfect partner. Although Nadia was always a good dancer it never felt natural with her, when you came along he found his true partner. There have since been many times where he has led you into and impromptu slow dance. No matter when, where or who is present, its like a natural part of your lives, Lucio loves it. Twirling and dipping you and making you feel like the centre of the solar system, because to him he is just a planet and you are his radiant sun.

I had a lot of fun writing this, but what I really want is you lovely people to send in requests to my ask box! Don’t be shy, I accept any type of request (fluff, angst, smut, etc...) for any of the main six. Anonymous is on, but if you’d like to request with your handle that would be great!

Lots of love! XOXO 

#the arcana #arcana #asra #julain #nadia #portia #muriel #lucio #mc #apprentice #prompt #headcannon #love #romantic #gestures #julian #julian devorak #story #the arcana game #the hanged man #fluff #ilya

[nxrthmizu]

the tears i cried for you

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pairing | iwaizumi hajime x oikawa tooru 

words | 1.5k 

genre | angst, star tears disease!au 

author’s note | i’ve thought about this one for a while and finally got to writing it at 12.15am and yes its’ midnight but oh hell apparently i produce better work when everyone else’s asleep so oops 

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in a world where unrequited feelings would result in sharp-edged, star-shaped tears, crushes could be deadly. ‘love’ was a fragile topic that people thread around like it was shards of glass— no one was willing to love if it meant putting their sight on the line for it.

reciprocation was considered a miracle, a blessing. if you wanted love— well, you needed to be brave enough to take the risk, and you needed to be strong enough to face the consequences of rejection.

unfortunately, oikawa was neither.

he was neither brave enough to confess, nor strong enough to face the consequences. and yet, he let himself dream.

he let himself hope.

he let himself love.

the relationship between a setter and a spiker is an intricate one, they said. oikawa believed the phrase whole-heartedly. there was no relationship more intricate than the one between him and the ace of seijoh— words were never needed between them, not on the court, not during their arguments, not...

despite the telepathic connection that tooru convinced himself that they had— hajime just never got the hint.

i love you.

courage? oikawa had none of it. not when it came to facing his denied feelings for his best friend. and honestly, who the hell would want to admit it? it wasn’t as if hajime was showing signs of returning his affection— oikawa wasn’t going to be so stupid as to confess, to bungee jump off a cliff without a rope—

even across the cafeteria, oikawa could clearly make out what the girl was saying.

“i... i like you. could— can you be my boyfriend?” words couldn’t express how much oikawa admired her. confessions took courage. confessions took risk-taking. confessions took putting your sight on the line, because rejection meant star-shaped tears.

tooru thought he knew pain. afterall, it seemed that fate had hated him from the moment he was born, so pain had always been the feeling he knew best.

but the pain of defeat, the pain of not-being-good-enough, the pain of never achieving his dreams was nothing compared to the agony that shot through his chest like an arrow when his eyes traced the outline of hajime’s words, along with the slight tint of a smile and the shy red flag of a blush.

“sure.”

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don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t—

a drop of blood dribbled down from his lips, vermillion against the pale hue of his skin. along with the red droplet came a crystalline, star-shaped structure smaller than the nail of tooru’s pinkie.

a tear.

he caught it before it shattered into a million, minuscule pieces across his bedroom floor, cradling the tiny glass-like structure in his hands. a bitter curiosity was set alight in his eyes as he inspected the tear— in all honestly, he would have found it beautiful if it wasn’t for that fact that too many of the tears would end his volleyball career.

before he knew it, three more tears fell. and after that, another five. and ten. then twenty, and countless more. a string of crystalline structures grazed his skin after they pierced his eyes like a thousand ice needles, dropping onto his palm and some shattering on the floor, a cacophony of tiny little xylophones making contact with the ground.

in the midst of pain and bitterness, tooru came to a life-changing realisation. one that made a small part of him bite back angrily, i told you so.

he was heartbroken.

angrily, he shook the sorrow away, blinking back the sting in his eyes. a sting that he was sure he’d feel again, and when he did, the intensity was going get worse and worse until it met the end of his sight.

the clinking of the crystal-like tears was strangely satisfying, tooru thought as he gently placed them, one by one, into a glass jar. when he was finished, he shook the jar gently, relishing in the chime-like tinks of tears darting across the smooth base of the glass.

his eyes, now in lesser pain than before, flicked over to a framed photo he had on his desk— one of him and hajime, both at an age where crushes were silly and laughable things. their arms were over each others’ shoulders, and even though their faces were scratched and bathed in mud, they were both grinning, happy and without a care in the world.

if only he could go back to a time when hajime was just a friend.

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if you asked him to pinpoint the exact time that he started to avoid hajime, tooru wouldn’t be able to give you an answer. it started off subtle— mentioning that he had to rush home to help his mom with some chores, having to head to school earlier to finish some homework he left under his desk— all meaningless, instinctive lies that slipped from his lips without a second thought. if hajime found them suspicious, he didn’t say anything, too preoccupied with walking his new girlfriend to school. well, it was for the better— oikawa didn’t know how he would feel if he had to walk with both hajime and his girlfriend to school.

but eventually, it became more and more obvious that tooru was doing his best to cut his best friend out of his life— as much as he could, anyway. he hadn’t cried since the first time, and he would very much like to keep it that way. the amount of crystalline tears in the jar had not increased, and he preferred it like that.

“hey, what’s wrong?” iwaizumi confronted him, at long last, as they were shedding sweat-soaked shirts in the locker room. unintentionally, the setter flinched away from his touch, hajime’s hand retracting back in surprise, retreating from its’ former position on the setter’s shoulder.

“what do you mean what’s wrong?” oikawa answered with a laugh, anxiety boiling under the facade of a flirtatious attitude. “i’m as fine as a dandy, iwa-chan. what, are you worried about me?”

silence vibrated through the locker room as the other players shared nervous looks— tooru’s avoidance of his ace had been pretty obvious to everyone else, it was just that no one wanted to speak up. the pair typically resolved their problems sooner or later, except that it had been three months.

“yes.” the ace replied, staring into oikawa’s eyes with an expression that the latter couldn’t quite decipher, “i am.”

they left the conversation at that, for which oikawa was relieved. hajime never pushed anymore from then onwards, but there always seemed to be something that he wanted to say but left unsaid. words became abundant, and while that worked for them before, tooru wasn’t heartbroken before.

thoughts used to fill the space in between them— just by glancing at the impatient tapping of oikawa’s fingers, hajime could tell that his best friend was hungry for milk bread— but times changed, and so did oikawa. the setter became unreadable, and with no words to cue him, the ace lost track of his best friend’s thoughts, and somewhere along the line, he lost track of his best friend, too.

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“tooru, there you are!” tooru’s mother chastised with a frown. “where were you? hajime’s been waiting for you upstairs for at least fifteen minutes. i thought the two of you walked back together?”

the brown-haired teen froze in his footsteps, hand still held mid-air, fingers outstretched to slip off his shoes. “he’s... upstairs?” tooru whispered in horror. he could only think of one thing, displayed in all its’ disgraceful glory, sitting on his desk, right next to his laptop—

the jar.

“it’s not what it—!” the door to tooru’s room slammed open, the setter meeting his best friend’s eyes as the latter looked up, jar held in hand like a precious artefact, a fragile, priceless object that had to be treated with utmost care.

“it’s not what it looks like?” hajime’s voice was soft, softer than tooru thought achievable by the normally-loud ace. an essence of betrayal, of hurt, of guilt— of all things— howled from inside his tone, and still hajime kept his composure, waiting, patient for the setter’s reply.

more than before, silence sat in the space between them, the wordless understanding that they used to have a distant memory belonging to the past. neither said a word; neither wanted to. quietly, hajime set the jar back onto the table, where it had been before the ace stepped into the setter’s room uninvited.

“why didn’t you say anything?” hajime asked quietly.

the setter swallowed, willing himself not to cry— at least not in front of hajime, “you looked happy. she looked happy.”

“and so you let yourself suffer?” a raging storm of emotions were coursing through the ace’s eyes, his fury rising on behalf of his best friend. “why the hell would you do that?”

oikawa looked into his best friend’s eyes, a sudden swoll of courage taking him by storm, dragging him down like the undercurrent of a tsunami. “because I love you,” he said softly, still looking into hajime’s eyes to meet quietened winds. “that’s why.”

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haikyuu!! gen taglist: @haru-senji @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours ​@knmiakira @rirk-ke @cemeiia [Send an ask to be added to by general haikyuu!! taglist]

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!! angst #seijoh #aoba johsai #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #iwaoi #iwaizumi x oikawa #iwaizumi hajime x oikawa tooru #star tears #star tears au #iwaoi angst #[ris writes]—✧

[capsized-heart]

Sky Castles

Pairing: Laurie x Reader, Jo x Reader

Summary: Summer has always been your favorite season in Plumfield. Perhaps it’s the lovely, sunny mornings and cool, calm nights, or perhaps it’s the fact that you and Laurie and Jo are practically inseparable in midsummer. 

Follows the summers from childhood into young adulthood, with turmoils of the heart along the way.   

Word count: 6.1k+

Warnings: fluff!!!!!!!!

A/N: hi, everyone. I hope you’re all staying safe and well! Right off the bat, I want to mention that I’ve pinned a post on both this blog and my main blog @sarapii-peachy​ about resources for the BLM movement to raise awareness and petitions you can sign to help make a difference on a smaller scale. Everything counts!

i’m back and now with a bachelor’s degree :’) class of 2020 high school and college esketit!!! we did it!!! in this historic pandemic!!! Sorry I’ve been gone for a bit, this fic has been my rocky transition/attempt out of writer’s block after my INSANE last semester of uni and with all the craziness going on in the world. I hope you can channel and take in some of this innocent happiness and childhood glee into your own lives as we navigate the shitshow that is 2020. Saoirse x Timmy x Reader here to cure me of my depression lmao

this title is also based off a chapter in the Little Women book where Laurie, Jo, and the girls go to a park and gaze at the passing clouds and talk about their futures...it’s honestly really sweet. Loosely based off of that! 

Comments and feedback would be greatly appreciated on this💛! Not that you guys don’t leave love, but this fic like I mentioned is my attempt at kicking writer’s block in the ass, please let me know how I did! :) talk to me I missed you guys :)

tags: @ravenmoore14 @monikakrasnorada @dangertoozmanykids101 @toozmanykids​ @adawn1970​ @mrchalamet-mrstyles @chavezlikesthings @loveylangdon@daygiowvibe @statisticlytimmy @ceexreverse​ @bamposworld​ @lilttletimmy​ @cindere-llaaa​

gif credit to @sheisraging​

You love New England for its rich, distinct seasons, how they each paint the countryside in eloquent sweeps of shade and hue. Snow, sun, and breathtaking landscapes of fall color that tinge the treetops throughout the year. You love Plumfield, Massachusetts more for the warmth and love the March sisters have shown you, each alike in personality, nature, to the equinoxes that have shaped your girlhood, each tender memory from your youth synonymous with Meg, Amy, Beth, and Jo. 

 Autumn. Cozy and comfortable, where motherly Meg showed you how to heat and dip caramel with the apples you’d carefully picked from the orchard for a rare treat, the kitchen swirling with the aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, turmeric, and spices that left you feeling aglow. She’d taught you how to use an embroidery hoop, how to let dough rise, how to bake a proper pie and how to fix any clothing tear with a simple needle and thread, her compliments quick for your ever growing domestic talents. 

Winter. Like cool, ambitious Amy with her painting and taste for luxury and pleasure, how she would praise you for being the only subject suitable for her artwork. Laurie would moan and complain about sitting for hours by the fireside, begging to be excused to go play in the snow, but never you. Amy called you her muse, arranging your hair and skirts to her liking, softening your lips and cheeks with a touch of rouge. It was always such fun to make a day out of modeling for Amy’s portraits, talking and laughing as she’d set up her paints.

Spring. Sweet and angelic like little Beth, windows wide open as her piano trills would float on the warm air, curtains ruffling in the breeze. You’d sit beside her on the piano bench and turn her sheet music for her, to which Beth would give you a shy, rosy smile in thanks. She taught you how to play Chopin and Tchaikovsky, duet pieces where you’d accompany her on the keys, harmonizing with chords and your fingers flying easily together.

Summer. Your favorite season, refreshing, bright, where you and Jo would spend balmy days and long, cool evenings tucked beneath the shade of tree trunks and willows as you’d read in the sun, listen to Jo’s carefully crafted stories. Her creativity and imagination never failed to amaze you, how her writing could transport you to the farthest countries, or keep you grounded in whatever fantastical setting she’d constructed for herself. She’d often write about the two of you; two young girls, best friends who’d have all sorts of dazzling adventures exploring the corners of the world, without the taxing responsibilities of chores, or schoolwork, or the foreboding, inevitable reality that one day you will be young adults and childhood would be gone forever. You’d have picnics and excursions to the nearby fields, dozing in the sun and picking wildflowers, splashing and wading through the rivers and creeks when the heat became unbearable. Before Laurie would come and spoil your fun, of course. Then, you and Jo and Laurie would be like three rowdy boys playing in the woods, your laughter echoing off the trees and sparkling waters. 

You first meet Theodore Laurence as a young girl in the fields connecting the March’s property and your own. You live just down the road from the March sisters, your house tucked away beyond the bend and you’d make the trek across the meadow and grasses daily to visit your neighbors. Being an only child with your father off fighting for the Union, the March house was like your second home and the girls and Marmee and Hannah always made you feel like part of the family, your own loneliness long forgotten as soon as you’d step through the door and you’d be welcomed back with laughter, squeals, and embraces.

Today, you are seeking the company of your friends as usual, returning a book Jo had lended you with a basketful of scones you’d baked in repayment. A recipe you’d learned from Meg. The autumn air is surprisingly warm against your skin, indian summer, flushed and golden and dappling the plains. It makes you smile softly, your mood pleasant as you gather your skirts in time with your step, adjust your basket. 

Then, you see him. A boy making his way in the same direction, dressed smartly in a black woolen coat and matching trousers, a silk scarf tastefully tied around his throat. His curls are windswept and tousled, his gait relaxed. He feels your gaze and looks up, eyes finding yours and the corner of his mouth ticks up in a friendly smile. Warmth floods your cheeks. You quickly duck your head.

He looks to be your age, but you’ve read tales of highwaymen and bandits roaming the countryside, how they’d feign kindness, only to strike unsuspecting travelers. Perhaps it was the work of Jo’s overactive and contagious imagination playing at your nerves, but why was he heading towards the March’s? You think of little Beth, how boys and newcomers made her nervous, timid. Your resolve hardens protectively. You have to keep this stranger away from the girls. 

Your pulse hammers in your throat as you lift your head to see the boy still looking your way. He waves his hand in greeting. 

“Hello!” he cheers. 

With your eyes still locked, you pick up your pace and keep your silence. Curiously, the boy finds this amusing, laughing, making it into a game as he too begins to walk briskly towards the house, of who will reach the door first. You narrow your eyes, summoning as much hostility and wickedness to your expression, demeanor as you can muster. The two of you are running now, his grin wide and eager, your own mouth twisted with hard concentration as you race each other.

Your chest is heaving when you brace yourself against the doorframe, blocking his way with your arm, back against the wood. He’s not a second behind you and is already on the stoop when you turn to face him.

“Are you Jo’s friend?” the boy asks you with a breathless, easy smile. “You’re quite fast, even faster than her.” He adds. He’s practically bouncing on his feet, jovial and buzzing with energy. The mention of Jo’s name curbs your distrust further. Bandit may now be off the table, and the thought makes you feel a bit foolish now, but how could Jo befriend such a strange boy without you knowing? How did he already seem to know who you are? 

Up close, you notice his eyes are green and mischievous, reflecting back the shimmering plains in flecks of amber as he gazes at you, your pulse fluttering ever so slightly…

You scold yourself internally. 

Handsome or not, he was undoubtedly a boy of trouble who had somehow won over Jo’s attention. And no easy feat, might you add. Headstrong and resolute, Jo’s circle of friends was quite small outside of you and her sisters, and you liked it that way. You’d like to keep it that way as well. 

You feel a sharp, ugly pang of jealousy curl in your stomach. You stick out your lower lip in a pout, turn up your nose in a way that would certainly earn a scolding from Marmee if she were to see your impoliteness. 

“Who are you to ask?” You snap.

Your words do not take the desired effect on him. Instead of hurt, or embarrassment, the boy smirks at you, amused. He cocks his head to one side and leans back on his heels, studying you like you’d just asked him why the sky is blue. His mood is breezy, amiable. 

“I’m Laurie. Is that better?” he offers with a comical pout of his own. You wrinkle your nose. This boy was starting to irritate you more and more.

“Surname?”

“Laurence.”

“Laurie Laurence? My, how silly and dull.”

He laughs, a low and pleasant sound that threatens to melt your angry facade. He shakes his head, hands in his pockets. 

“It’s a pet name. Jo calls me Teddy, but you may call me whichever you like,” he says. Your jealousy burns brighter, flushing your skin, twisting together with a hint of desire and yearning. 

You were once Jo’s everything, her favorite companion. She made this clear with how she’d tell you plainly, how she’d spoil you with compliments and stories and affection. And now, it seemed Jo knew another, this Laurie, well enough to call him Teddy when you had no pet name of your own. She seemed to speak of you, which would explain Laurie’s cordiality, but did she tell him how you were the only one she felt comfortable enough with to critique her writing? How she would encourage your aspirations of becoming a dancer by arranging the foyer into a stage and cheering for you while sitting atop the staircase like an admirer in the box seats? How the two of you could jest and play for hours with nothing but your imagination, crying from laughter until your bellies ached?

You feel a sense of betrayal and heartache at this, an intrusion, a tirade of emotions you can’t quite explain. Did you want Jo all for yourself? Did you want to befriend Laurie as well? Did you just want to be someone’s everything again and to be doted on and loved? 

Then, Laurie’s voice tapers into a quiet hum, a touch of softness. You hear the first indication of bashfulness as he looks down at you through full, dark lashes. “I hope the three of us can be good friends. I’d like to know you as well.” He murmurs. 

You don’t know what to think of him. Your chest feels tight and your cheeks burn, from anger or passion you can’t quite tell. You’re contemplating leaving your basket on the doorstep and shoving past him to go back home when you suddenly hear a clamor of voices and the turning of the knob and then the door falls open behind you. 

Laurie catches you before you can tumble through the entryway, hands finding your waist. Jo, vibrant and chipper as ever, lights up when she sees you and her sky blue eyes shine like glass. She has her cap fitted over her wavy blonde curls, skipping into your arms and for a moment you’re sandwiched between the two of them. You flush scarlet. 

“Oh, good! You two have met. Goodbye, Marmee! I’m going out!” Jo calls into the house, her voice overlapping with her sisters’ as they all greet you in a burst of chaos. But before Jo can usher you outside, you feel your childish temper flare and you squirm out of her reach and back through the open door and into the house. You set your basket onto the table, turning to hide your face in Amy’s shoulder with a flutter of your skirts as you feel the hot sting of tears prickle your eyes. You weren’t going to let this Laurie boy see you cry upon your first encounter.

“I’m not coming.” You mumble. Amy’s hand comes to soothingly pet back your hair with a hush of surprise and you sense her look to Jo with a characteristic glare.

“Jo, what have you done?” Amy presses.

“I’ve done nothing!” Jo retorts with a huff. Then, her voice turns gentle, curious as she speaks to you. “Dear, what’s the matter?”

“She wouldn’t be on the verge of tears if you hadn’t done nothing, would she?” Amy replies. You laugh weakly, tightening your arms around her. “See?” Amy says. “You’ve broken her heart, the poor thing.” 

“Jo’s made new friends,” you sniffle, embarrassed when Laurie’s eyes meet yours. Amy’s arms around you make you feel comforted and safe, brave enough to voice your true burdens when you say, “I’ve been replaced,” and gaze back at Laurie in defiance, protest. He frowns and shifts his weight, looking genuinely sorry with a guilt that touches his eyes. Good, you think. Let him think twice before stealing away your best companion. 

At this, Jo’s expression softens with understanding and warmth as she sees you curl into Amy once more. Jo takes a step into the open doorway, leaving Laurie on the stoop.

“No one could ever replace you, dear,” she says. “I only keep Laurie around for when I’m bored and you aren’t around to play. Look at him,” she gestures in his direction. “He’s aloof and vain, he’s lazy, he doesn’t have an ounce of the imagination you do-” 

“Don’t forget arrogant.” Amy pipes up.

Jo nods, wagging a finger at her sister. “Right you are, Amy. We mustn't forget that.”

Laurie starts to puff up with a temper, his lips twisting together and you can see him struggling with whether to speak up and defend himself, or let the girls have their fun for your sake. Jo goes on, saying he was devious and too pretty for his own good, making you and Amy giggle as she rubs soothing circles into your back. It’s rather polite and charming as you watch Laurie suffer silently, biting his tongue as Jo continues to defame his character before she finally turns back to you.

“I should have introduced the two of you properly, and for that, I’m sorry,” says Jo. “You must have had quite the surprise running into him.” Laurie again glances to you with an apologetic softness, wringing his hands together. “So, what do you think, Teddy? Are we ready to start afresh?” Jo asks him, hands on her hips. 

This makes you laugh, bubbly, your mood perking up as you finally lift your head from Amy’s shoulder. Of course, Jo would be able to comprehend your grievances and somehow peg Laurie with the blame, how she knew your heart was delicate and tender and so full of devotion that you were quick to hold grudges. Your envy dissipates and you feel a bit sorry seeing Laurie now in such low spirits, his theatrical demeanor now quiet and modest. 

“If she’ll have me,” Laurie murmurs, glancing up at you with such a pureness in his glittering eyes that regret starts to settle in your stomach.

“And I’ve written more of that story you enjoyed so much,” Jo holds out a hand to you. “Won’t you come hear what happens next?” she asks. Slowly, like the pull of a magnet, you untangle yourself from Amy’s arms and cross the room to take Jo’s outstretched hand. 

“Alright.” You say at last. Jo beams and cradles your face with her other hand, swiping away your tears with her thumb. You let her baby you like she would with Beth, enjoying her touch against your cheek. 

“That’s my sweet girl.” She smiles.

You then look to a sheepish Laurie and extend a hand, filled with new courage. You tell him your name and echo back his words that you hope the three of you can indeed become good friends, that you and Jo could do well with another acquaintance. The smile Laurie gives you is genuine, sweet and gentle, the corner of his mouth turning up in crooked delight. He clasps your hand warmly.

“I would want nothing more.” Laurie laughs. 

And with that, nestled between Jo and Laurie, you step back outside into the rich and golden light of a warm autumn afternoon, curious, excited for what adventures the day will bring you. 

**

Laurie joins your duo swimmingly and the rest of the year passes in pleasant tranquility as the three of you spend nearly every waking moment by each others’ sides. All Hallow’s Eve finds you dressed in a costume of French royalty, a pompous and comical gown of ballooning fabrics, complete with a powdered wig of pins and curls. You’ve painted your face with overlined lips and the trademark mole below your eye and the March sisters double over with laughter as you enter the foyer, fluttering your paper fan with an aristocratic pout, Laurie saluting your entrance with a roar of, la plus belle fille du monde! Jo is dressed as a fearsome pirate, outfitted in boots, breeches, and a captain’s hat, the wooden sword you and Laurie helped to paint swishing through the air as she parades into the room. Laurie enters last with a bang and a flash of white powder, appearing before your eyes in true magician fashion with a top hat and cane, a false mustache pasted onto his upper lip. All six of you then march across the field to the Laurence residence, now alight with carved pumpkins and lanterns, for your All Hallow’s Eve party of sweets and games.

Christmas brings festivities, flurries, and cheer. Sledding, ice skating, days of cold and winter fun making snow angels and snowmen, decorating the March house with holly, mistletoe, culminating into a hearty turkey dinner as you sit perched next to Laurie. The candlelight is homely, the sound of laughter and clinking silverware washing over you and you catch Laurie’s eye as he lifts his fork to his mouth. The two of you grin, leaning into each other with quiet happiness, heads bowed. You and Laurie both mirror each other in being only children, meaning these times together have been filled with welcome camaraderie. Where your instances of yearning for the companionship of siblings that only those without can understand, you’ve found company in each other, never a dull moment, never lonely. 

The thaw of spring keeps you tucked away indoors with torrents of rain pelting against the roof. Jo reads to you aloud from her novel, asking for your thoughts every so often as you and Laurie lounge on the sofa. When you articulate a point of slight critique on Jo’s use of character, Laurie teasingly tugs on a lock of your hair with a smirk. 

“How perceptive.” He murmurs, grinning.

You swat his hand away, glaring at him in mock anger. 

And as the days grow warmer, so does your heart. You’ve learned to share your affection between Laurie and Jo in a way you think is equally matched and that autumn day where you’d been so sour to both of them seems like ages ago. Soon after that incident, your bravado had quickly morphed into appreciation and Jo had been eager to break the ice between you and Laurie. And like all children, your differences and jealousy had been set aside as you’d discovered he was quite fun to be around. Laurie shared Jo’s quick wit and intelligence, like an androgynous mirror, so much of yourself also reflected in both of them in time and they in you. And yet, Laurie had a certain charm about him; how he could have the two of you in stitches and still maintain the air of sophistication that was so often expected of the Laurence boy. Admittedly, you were thrilled to have them both as your best and favorite playmates. 

In turn, they had done the same, showering you with loving attention and teasing, keeping you entertained with their bickering, quarreling over how they both wanted to occupy your time with their respective ideas for sport. Fighting over you. The thought of it makes you blush furiously. Yet, you feel cared for, like the most precious thing in their lives.You’ve also selfishly enjoyed being the apple of their eye and all the privileges that has bestowed; Jo writing you into her stories, featuring you as a beautiful sugar plum fairy, and Laurie promising to write you a French ballet, to someday whisk you off to Europe to experience high art and culture. 

At last, spring turns to summer and the three of you are back to mischief and horseplay in the great outdoors. The days are lush, agreeable, bright and pleasant with flashing sunshine and lofty clouds. You’re again reminded why summer to you is synonymous with Jo as you run together through the waving fields bursting with flowers, Laurie right on your heels as he too gives chase. 

“Jo! We were only kidding about the toads!” Laurie calls out from behind you. “It’s not like I have one in my pocket this very moment who’s squirming to get free and might have bitten me earlier when I caught him by the river and-”

He gives a shout of surprise and you hear his footfalls pause in the grasses. You and Jo both turn, breathless, already laughing when you see Laurie hopping about like hot coals are burning beneath his feet.

A small pond frog wiggles out of his pocket seam with a croak and then disappears into the meadow, waddling with great speed. With out-turned pockets and wrinkled trousers, Laurie stands there with his hands on his hips, confidence and humor masking his faults as always.

“My, they grow up so fast, don’t they?” Laurie says as he looks out over the crest of the hill with a humorous glint in his eyes, like a mother watching her child leave for the vast, cruel world. You and Jo collapse into a fit of giggles, holding each other upright by the shoulders and gasping for air.

**

Eternal summer and sun, a tender paradise. And as midsummer arrives, so does the heat. It’s stifling, heavy, the kind that suffocates and forbids any excessive movement or play, when being idle is perfectly acceptable, a rarity for you three young adventurers. Today, even nature herself seems to be drowsy from the stifling weather. Sunflowers droop from the weight of honeybees as they float lazily over the fields. Birds chortle from the treetops, as if too tired to fly, their song intertwining with the rustling grasses, tousled by the rare cool breeze. The sky burns a dome of brilliant blue above you, filled with towering, cotton white cumulus clouds. You watch as they drift slowly over the horizon. Like colossal ships at sea. 

You rest your head on Laurie’s chest and he toys with your hair. Jo dozes with her arms pillowed across your stomach and the three of you are a sleepy dog-pile of limbs. The feel of Laurie’s fingers makes you relaxed, drowsy. You hear Jo then give a soft snore and you chuckle.

“What is it?” Laurie asks. You can already hear the smile in his voice, how just your laughter is enough to amuse him too. You shake your head against his chest and the movement makes you giggle again. Laurie joins you, flopping out his legs, the heat making you both delirious and loopy.

You reach up blindly and give him a firm nudge, your hand landing just under his chin.

“Stop it, you’ll wake her.” You scold him with as much seriousness as you can muster and failing miserably. 

“Ow,” Laurie groans. He grasps your wrist, moving your hand to place it against his cheek and he puckers out his lower lip. “You’ve hurt me, I’m unwell.”

“Oh...Laurie, I didn’t mean it..” you sit up and coo, caressing his skin. Laurie looks pleased, a flash of playfulness in the green of his eyes as you lean towards him. “Let me take a closer-” 

You cuff him on the ear ever so lightly, catching him by complete surprise and Jo wakes, cackling, throwing her arms around you. 

Later, the three of you gaze up at the passing clouds, a comfortable silence settling over you all as you enjoy the afternoon.

“If we could fly up into those clouds and there was a castle with anything your heart desired, what would it be?” Jo asks. “Where do you two see your lives leading you?” Her tone is pensive, romantic. You and Laurie both hum in thought. 

“You first, Laurie.” You murmur. 

Laurie turns to look back at the bright blue sky, to the billowy clouds that look like spun sugar candy. 

“I want to live abroad in Europe and be surrounded by music, my music. I want to compose, I want to be renowned for my operas.” He declares with a proud puff of his chest. Jo nods, you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“That sounds very much like you, Teddy,” Jo says. “A bachelor making art in Europe, how capital.”

He makes a face, then winks at you out of the corner of his eye. You stick out your tongue.

“You can do it if you stay focused,” you add. “No more billiards, for a start.” 

Laurie wrinkles his nose. “And what is it that you want, prima donna?” he asks you in challenge. 

You turn away with a roll of your eyes, gaze to the heavens. The thought comes to you easily as you listen to the birds, feel the breeze tickling your skin, drinking in the sky. 

“I want to be a ballet dancer in a prestigious company. I want to tour the world.” You say softly. Before, you would have felt embarrassment to share such an ambitious dream. But something about this moment, of being with Laurie and Jo makes you feel brave and safe enough to speak your mind, to put your words into the universe and have it come to fruition. Like a magic spell of sorts. With them here with you, you feel like any dream is possible.

Another chorus of hums and Jo looks pleased at your response. Laurie smirks up at the horizon.

“No fair if it’s likely to happen,” he laughs. “That’s cheating.”

“Oh, hush,” Jo chides with a rather hard sock to Laurie’s arm. She ignores his whines as he recoils and grumbles dramatically. “You’re well on your way, dear,” Jo tells you. “Now that you’ll be in that New York production next summer, I’m sure your opportunities will be plentiful.”

You hope she’s right. You’d secured a role as an ensemble dancer in an upcoming production of Romeo and Juliet, your most prestigious show as of yet in your young and budding career. Jo’s warm praise makes you blush like the flowers surrounding you, pink and full. Laurie’s quick eyes catch this, envious, and he changes the subject, a muscle ticking ever so slightly in his jaw. 

“And you, Jo?” He asks tightly. 

Jo exhales, crossing her arms behind her head. “Being a writer, of course. A great one. I don’t want to settle for less.” 

“Doubtful,” snides Laurie. “I don’t see it.”

You and Laurie look to each other with a quiet smile.

“No, not with all the prizes you’ve won,” you add. “Impossible.”

Jo shoots upright, too quickly for the heat. She slugs Laurie again.

“Ow...Jo, it’s too hot for your beatings,” he moans. “Don’t be a poor sport.”

She doesn’t answer him, only gives him a final push and hunkers back down onto the grass, turning her back to him with a huff.

“Why am I the only one that ever gets hit?” Laurie grumbles, opening his shirt to cool himself off and throws his forearm across his eyes for shade, frowning. You giggle, curling up beside her.

“I believe in your abilities, Jo.” You whisper to her. She takes your hand. 

It’s not long before the three of you are fast asleep in the sun. 

**

And as the seasons and summers roll on and the fruits of childhood begin to slowly ripen with the passing years, you find your companionship with Laurie and Jo changing and growing like never before. Your friendship starts to blossom into fondness, adoration. Indeed, you’ve loved them as playmates and companions since the three of you were children, but as you flourish amidst that quaint, strange, and budding pocket of time when young men and women come of age, where you and Laurie and Jo are now struck with bashfulness and an awareness of being alone with each other, your love for them arches and glows like summer sunset. 

This makes you acutely conscious of your appearance and dress, your posture, how you carry yourself, your mannerisms. How did your hair look? Did you laugh too loudly? Would Jo think your comments about her writing were too harsh? Why did you feel such warmth in your chest every time you saw her? And why were you starting to anticipate Laurie’s company? Why did you always have a sharp hope that he would come around with every visit of yours to the March residence? The constant whir of thoughts and worries was enough to make your head turn with heaviness, make you collapse from the pressures of simply existing.

“You’re acting odd,” Laurie tells you one day.

The two of you lay in a meadow with summer buzzing all around you, resting beneath the drooping leaves of a willow tree. Jo had been unable to join you as she had Beth’s lessons to teach that afternoon, much to her own disappointment and promising to make it up to you soon with an affectionate pinch to your cheek. You’d considered going home then. The last thing you wanted was to be left alone with Laurie, that familiar crush in your chest, an inkling of dread coupled with a shortness of breath, fear and excitement. You were terrified. But when he’d taken your hand and asked you so sweetly to accompany him to the meadow’s waters, how could you possibly refuse? 

But of course, Laurie was quick to notice your nerves. 

“The heat is getting to your head,” you say evenly with eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your face. “Besides, that’s rather rude.”

You hear him move and feel his presence directly in front of you, as if leaning in.

“It is a bit hot, do you feel up for a swim?”

This makes your eyes snap open. Following Jo’s mannerisms, you give him a shove in the chest. “You’re vile,” you grin. 

To your surprise, Laurie’s teasing, playful demeanor is nowhere to be found. His gaze is instead thoughtful, holding your own like you are all he sees. Immediately, you feel your pulse kick up in the side of your throat.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he continues with a shake of his head. “You don’t seem like yourself. I thought a change in our routine could be refreshing.”

You give a light shrug of your shoulders. “I feel fine,” you say. 

He brushes the back of his hand against your forehead. He hums, then curls his fingers down along the planes of your face to rest on your cheek. 

“You’re flushed,” he murmurs. 

Time seems to slow. The roar of blood deafens your ears and the fragrance of the sweet waters and blooms around you is overwhelming, sunlight refracting like prismed rainbow. Laurie kisses you then, a gentle touch of his lips, tilting your chin up to meet him. A sweetheart’s kiss, one that tastes of summer secrets as you’re shaded by vines and mist. When you break apart, he keeps his hand cradled against your cheek, his thumb circling the corner of your mouth.

You don’t know what to say. You’re speechless, your chest rising and falling softly, staring back at him with wide, surprised eyes. Laurie looks reflective, emerald irises half-lidded.

“What am I to tell Jo?” you whisper to him. Heat diffuses through your body like desert wind. You feel elated, cherished, frightened, embarrassed. Guilty. Laurie’s eyes flicker once more to your lips, his dark lashes fluttering with the movement. His smile is melancholy, yet knowing.

“You love her, too.” Laurie hums. It’s a statement, a confirmation of your feelings for both of them. The fact that the boy you’ve adored for so long has uttered your very thoughts out loud should have you completely mortified, yet there’s a small sense of comfort knowing he’d understand. Laurie knows this because he himself feels the same way, knows you or Jo or himself could never bring themselves to choose.

Laurie’s smile prompts you to lace your fingers together in the grasses and you give him a light peck on the cheek. He brightens up, raking a hand through his black curls. 

“You love me.” Laurie beams.

**

When you tell Jo about the kiss, she’s dancing with you on the porch in the evening light. Inside, you can see Marmee and the girls entertaining themselves through the windows as you practice your pirouettes. Jo is dressed in her writing jacket and trousers, keeping you balanced as she plays the part of the male dancer, perfectly competent. 

“What an impish boy,” Jo says of Laurie. You laugh and the two of you continue your steps, running through the dance number in a private rehearsal. Laurie is due to rehearse with you the week before your performance and the thought itself is enough to make butterflies explode in your stomach. Jo is a strong, leading dancer, while Laurie is graceful and firm, both capable of making the palms of your hands sweat with nerves. You know in your heart if you could rehearse with them, you’d have no fear on opening night. You’d already be invincible.

“Again from the top, please, kind sir,” you curtsey to Jo. Her smile is giddy and she gives a click of her heels before returning to her starting position. 

“Of course,” she responds. Taking your hand, she guides you through the steps once more, your heart soft and temperate like the evening around you.

**

The sound of applause is warm and full, washing over you as you take your bows. You feel weightless, aglow, eyes brimming with tears. You think you see Laurie and Jo leap to their feet in the audience, but the stage lights are too bright and you cannot see clearly and you think you may faint from happiness. 

In the auditorium, you’re still in your costume of Venetian silks and flowers when you’re swept off your feet by a boisterous Laurie and he twirls you around in his arms, his riding cloak billowing out behind him. 

“There’s our Capulet! You were phenomenal!”

“I’m so proud of you, dear!” Jo practically shouts with excitement, tackling you next in a bearish hug when Laurie finally sets you down. Their praise is boundless, endless, showering you in so much adoration that your heart feels close to bursting. You gather them close, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“Thank you both for everything,” you choke out, squeezing them tight.

Over Jo’s shoulder, you spot Marmee, Meg, Amy, even shy little Beth with a bouquet of flowers and then you let the tears fall when you run to them and you thank your stars for the luck and love you’ve been blessed with.  

**

Another year, another summer soon arrives. You and Jo and Laurie are back in the fields cloud-gazing, a lazy afternoon of heat and leisurely time well spent. Things feel familiar, recognizable between the three of you, yet there’s a sense of distance between now and when Jo had first asked about your castles in the sky all those summers ago. 

 Jo was now making a name for herself in the writer’s world, having won another prize in a New York newspaper. She’d been gaining the attention of devoted readers and critics alike and was now working on a proper novel, her longest project as of yet. She tells you not to worry, that she’ll be sure to feature you as a central character in the same way she’d done as a child, nostalgic tales of pirates and adventure and love.

“My sweet sugar plum fairy,” she’d gruffed, pulling you into another powerful hug.

Laurie had finished his opera, now with aspirations of pulling funds together and opening a production in Europe. He was still in the midst of planning and conversing with his grandfather about finances and departure dates, but it seemed like Laurie’s promise of spiriting you away to Europe could now become a reality. And with the possibility of your very own French stage debut! 

Thus, you three souls were being tugged into three far corners of the globe, to your respective callings. The realization scares you, to know that this may be one of the few times you have left together. But underneath it all, there was a sense of excitement to see the world and make it your own. You were satisfied, proud knowing that the three of you had come so far with your aspirations and you had no doubt you would find success in your art.

In the comfortable silence, serenaded by the hum of cicadas and birdsong, you gaze up to the clouds gliding over Plumfield, Massachusetts. You feel an aching longing for those childhood days of carefree play, the countless rose-tinted memories of Laurie and Jo by your side, yet looking up at the sky, you know these memories of summers past will always be with you. 

And there would be better and more to come. 

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[eerythingisshaka]

PTA III

[Trevante Rhodes x Reader]

Word Count: 2.2K

Summer had come and gone in the blink of an eye yet felt as long as finals week when you were earning your teaching degree.  School ended last quarter with a clumsy splat seeing as the first wave of virus knocked everything out of order very quick. You stressed out running lessons to the school for kids to pick up and working with families with limited to no internet access pulled your patience to its thinnest layer.

So when all had officially finished, you had to take the time to yourself as best as you could.  In a normal summer, you would plan a getaway to just about anywhere you hadn’t seen before and the more solo the better.  Sipping something alcoholic in a warm climate with the Sun toasting your skin to its peak melanated beauty was all you would need to pack you full of endorphins that could last you into the next year.

But that wasn’t the plan now.  Travel restrictions keep you from going out of town and you can’t even get a decent dinner anymore seeing as most restaurants are dine out only.  The only silver lining you can muster is the mask mandates allowing you to keep from smiling at strangers in awkward politeness when they get in your way.  It is a layer of protection for your sanity and solitude.  

However that wasn’t the only silver lining you have from the summer.  Mr. Rhodes, or Trevante as he has to still remind you, became very generous with his time with you outside of the classroom.  As much as you try to keep things professional for your jobs sake, he won’t let you be for any little thing.  Your email has message after message from him asking about simple math for everyday things that apparently Nemour needed refreshing on, followed by a ‘so how you been doing?’

Email 1

“Dear Ms. (Y/N), I am contacting you in regards to my son, Nemour.  While in the grocery today, we came across a sale for oranges, 3lb. for $5.  But then this other store has 5 lb. for $6.  Now he is itching to know what price would be the better one to go for?”

Your response:

“Dear Mr. Rhodes,  Although my primary concentration is History, you can tell Nemour that he should go for the second deal with 5lb.”

“Perfect, that’s why you’re the teacher!  So...how’ve you been?”

Sometimes you reply, and sometimes you leave him on read, it depends on how conversational you feel.  But as time progressed, you got excited to see his emails asking to remind him what the 3 branches of government are or what amendment means what?  He even got you on video chat to discuss.

“What?!  So slavery isn’t really abolished on that bullshit?”  Trevante exclaims in awe.

You throw your hands up, aghast as if you just learned it yourself.  “That’s the thing about American government.  They will throw a loophole where you least expect it and throw a parade like the shit ain’t bout to pop out.”

“Damn!  That’s like some Trojan horse shit honestly,”  he shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer.

You snap your finger, “Exactly, my man, exactly!  That’s why nobody can agree on anything worth a damn.  There’s gonna be a clause somewhere that adds some shit that makes the whole thing rotten. But you didn’t hear it from me, so don’t let Nemour know I’m saying this kind of stuff.”

He twists his face in confusion.  “Why wouldn’t I?  My son got a right to know about what this country is founded on.  Everyone does.”

“Yeah I know.  Just...when topics like these pop up it’s difficult to keep it all…” your voice trails off as you search your bedroom for the words you are looking for.

“Politically Incorrect?”  he offers.

You nod a little.  “Kinda, yeah.”

He sets down his beer, sitting a little closer to the screen.  “You shouldn’t have to worry about that.  History is literally set in stone.  If we didn’t have it, we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves now.”

“Do we know what to do now though?”  you ask in a higher pitch, squinting like you stepped in hot coals.

Trevante took a minute looking at you before dipping his head down to chuckle.  You could hear the pounding baritone in his chest from your speakers.

“What?  What’s that about?”  you ask.

He sits up again, stroking his beard, “It’s cute when you make your face like that.  That’s all.”

You roll your eyes, pulling your scarf further down your forehead to make up for slipping.  

Trevante tuts at you.  “I need a bucket or something to catch these compliments you keep throwing away that I toss at you.  You don’t believe me or what?”

You give a very dignified look, “I believe I am beautiful.  I just don’t believe in entertaining a parent, is all.”

Trevante sighs.  “Summer don’t count (y/n).  You’re not his teacher now so what’s the issue?”

You look off to the side and back at him.  The crisp white t shirt he has on is obstructing more of the view of his body then you care for but the tightness at the sleeve around his bicep makes up for what you know is already there.

“Hello?”  he says.

You blink a few times, crossing your arms.  “Hm?”

“You go off into space a lot too.  What’s on your mind when you do that?”

His arms around your waist that tightly bind you to his body as you inhale his sweet cologne that is perfectly distributed from his neck to chest.

You scratch your neck, and tell a half lie.  “Oh, just this new school year.”

“See this is a perk of having a teacher friend.  Fill me in, what’s up?”

“Well, all I have right now is that we are doing hybrid learning, so some classes at the school and some at home.  Now the district just need to provide the materials for the kids to be able to do that.  The internet, the laptop/tablets, and make sure we can all connect and no one is behind on lessons.  And since I am on the front line, I have to get creative with the lesson plans and keep people on task and on time.”

Trevante nods.  “Well me and Nemour are excited to see what you have for us next year, whatever it is.”

You smirk at the encouragement.  “Thank you Tre, but I can’t guarantee we will be together for the next school year.  That’s decided at random.  Plus the grade he is in next year is the last one I teach.”

“Nah, we gonna be in there.  If I have to sign a petition or boycott like these hot breathed whites out here not wearing masks, we will be in your class this fall.”

You bust out laughing at his determination.  “Dang, Tre!  Don’t go starting a ruckus up there cuz of me!  He will still be taught well, whoever he has a teacher.”

He makes a cut it motion across his neck.  “Nah, we only rock with the best and that’s you up there.  I will make all the, what you call it?  Ruckus?  That shit!  So I will be seeing you first day in the fall, ok?”

You feel heat spread over your skin from shyness.  His brash attitude comes out and makes you feel like a superstar.  “Ok, I’ll hold you to it.  How’s Nemour doing anyway?”

Trevante nods, picking up his laptop as he changes rooms.  “He is doing well, being a regular kid.  Playing and doing his chores.”

You nod.  “Great!”

He closes a door behind him as he lays the laptop down, you can tell he is laying across his bed on his stomach as he speaks.

“He has been asking me a lot more questions about police and like, if they stop me or him, what’s gonna happen and what do we do?  Should we run away?  Can we not live by cops, stuff like that.”

You heart breaks hearing this. “Wow, and this is coming from a child?”

He nods, resting his chin on his forearm.  “It’s part my fault.  I’m always looking at the news and if he sitting at the table eating breakfast or whatever, he’s gonna see it.  I cut it off when they show bodycam footage though cuz that is nothing but toxic.”

“I can’t count how many times I had to see them replay that man dying in the street.  And in front of people watching, they don’t care who is watching cuz what can you do?  You can’t interfere or that’s a charge on you but he could’ve lived.”

Trevante looks spaced out for a second hearing this.  “I know, and that’s why it’s hard explaining to Nemour what everything is about.  I give him the basics though:  Do what the officer says, don’t argue, and don’t get into shit that’s gonna get the cops called  on you either.  But it sounds played out to even say.  What did everybody else do that’s dead now?”

“Nothing.  Sleep in their bed, going to the store, jogging.  Not a damn thing that warranted a bullet.”

Trevante gives a small shrug, looking sad like he is staring at his reflection in a pond.  “Yeah, so he been grappling with that and that’s a lot for a kid his age.  That’s why I want him to be your student still too cuz you’re one of the only Black teachers there and I honestly think he is uncomfortable with white people right now.  We went to the store the other day and he calls himself protecting me saying if the man getting bread bothers me, he put on his little Timbs so he can stomp him for me.”

You gasp at the thought, giving a weak smile.  “I mean, that would go viral for some child to curb stomp a big old white dude.”

Tre smiled some too.  “I think Nemour was this close to saying ‘Don’t worry bout it sweetheart.’  I can’t let him look at no internet again.”

You put your foot up and say, “He finna give him that SPLAHH!”

Trevante laughs heartily, wiping his eyes, “You more hip than I thought too.”

“I had some wine earlier, so that might’ve helped.”  You put a finger to your mouth and pull up the glass from the nightstand.  

“Oh shit!  So this is Turnt Teacher!  Go head then, don’t let me stop you”

You wave him off.  “You aren’t stopping anything.  If nothing else, you keeping me going.  All this house shit is working my last nerve, it’s nice to see a familiar face every once in a while.”

“I think so too.  You’ve been a great addition to some weeknights this summer.”

You put a thumbs up as you sip your wine.  “Are we still doing a movie tonight?  I think it’s my turn to pick.”

Trevante curls up a lip.  “Nah, I don’t think so.”

Your heart sank a little, already having queued up a selection to watch.  “That’s ok, it is late.”

“Yeah, but really I wanna see you in person.”

Your body tensed at the invitation.  Thinking over the last few months of chatting, he has warmed up to you as an individual, but you aren’t sure if that feeling can translate outside of a screen.  Behind the camera it’s safe, you can be cute and mysterious but vulnerable and clumsy and it all comes up roses for him.  In person, cute and mysterious can seem pretentious and vulnerable and clumsy could just be a weirdo geek to him.

“Well,” you start, “I would but...you know this...pandemic is just…”

“I know,” he says.

“...awful, right?  So I just don’t think I can comfortably do that...now?”

Trevante thinks for a second.  “We can stay within the parameters of the guidelines though right?  Six feet, masks, no crowded space.  If you want, we can do that.  I just…” he sighs heavily, looking tired as he rubs his eyes, “...I have been getting stir crazy and you are the main one I have been keeping contact with outside of family, yet I only spent time in person on Valentine’s Day that one meeting we had.  And you had a date later!”

You laugh at him, remembering their first meeting that could’ve been an email no doubt.

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

“Do you wanna go out with me?  Be honest!”

“Tre, I told you-”

“See?  You even call me Tre now.  We familiar right?  I don’t usually have to beg like this but ma’am, you almost got me on bended knee!”

“Uh…”  you start to feel bad but your mouth stops working under pressure.

“Six feet,” he reminds you.  If nothing else, that makes you less inclined to want to go because what can you do?  No kissing that’s for sure.

“I don’t want to confuse Nemour,”  you rebuttal.

“He will be watched by a guardian, trust me.  He won’t be cramping out grown folks business.”

You feel a flutter in your stomach that fuels your excitement.  A plan to go out, with a man no less!  This could turn the summer around or be a disaster on the horizon.

“Don’t overthink it.  You’re a smart woman, but I don’t want you to overcalculate this.  You wanna see me, I wanna see you.  We’ll play it safe, and finally see each other in some natural light.”

You nod slowly, a smile creeps across your face as his argument finally sways you.  “Ok, I’m in.  Pick the time and place.”

Tag you!

@chaneajoyyy​

#shakafic #trevante rhodes fic #pta

[exosmuttytalk]

Just Dance

Characters: Chanyeol, female OC

Genre: Fluff, hurt and comfort (kinda?)

Word count: ~2400

Summary: Following a round of her favorite videogame, Chanyeol makes the best effort to prop his girl up.

A/N: Originally, this was going to go a different route with a different main character, but then I thought about my friend @blogmariasan​ and wanted to write something for her ~

How cute does he look in that gif tho

The rapid beating of your heart in your ears and the loud music coming out of the speakers were strong enough for you to miss the noise the front door made when it turned on its hinges. Or the rummaging at the hall as he left the keys at the usual spot on top of the dresser and hung his coat on the hanger.

“Oh, so that’s what you do when I’m not at home, hmm?” his voice came from the doorstep to the living room, where you had moved the coffee table out of the way to make enough space for your workout, standing in front of the TV. “Fraternizing with our enemies.”

The high amount of energy your body stored at the moment combined with his voice startling you sent you practically flying across the room and into the sofa that had been pushed backwards. Sweat dripped down your back and you could feel blood rushing to your already flushed face.

The subject of dance came up fairly often in conversations with Chanyeol, who would sometimes need reassurance when he compared his own dancing with some other of his band mates, but who you’d never let watch you dance. Not on purpose, of course.

Dance is one of those things that do not matter to normal people. Everyone’s been to a club or a party at least once, has made a complete fool of themselves and then has gone home, hopefully having had fun. Not you.

When you were a kid, almost all your female classmates had enrolled in some sort of dance classes: ballet, regional dances, hip-hop, you name it. You knew many people who were part of an amateur band that learnt and performed their favorite artists’ dances. You weren’t one of them. At those end of year performances at your primary school, you’d always be left at the back, fulfilling the inconspicuous roles of trees, random animals, or the time when you had gotten quite a share of the spotlight as a door knob in a musical version of Alice in Wonderland. Coordination was just not your forte.

Everybody who knew you knew that as well. Including your boyfriend, who had found out about your slight incompetence when it came to being a protagonist and to moving your body in a graceful manner quite early in the relationship, when he had taken you as his companion to a family wedding. As enthused as always, he dragged you across the room to the dance floor, and knowing many of his family members were scrutinizing your every move, you had no option but to dance with him. Thankfully, one of his uncles was a nurse and was able to examine your ankle and determined you had only sprained it. As soon as he heard that, all the worry he had been sporting on his face since he saw you trip and hit the ground, disappeared. It was instead replaced by a slight mocking expression that only grew bigger when his grandma patted him in the back and told him you were nice but he needed to teach you to keep a bit of balance. What a beautiful family introduction.

Wasn’t that funny though? You wouldn’t trade your life for anything in the world, but you would have preferred if dance wasn’t such an important aspect in your partner’s life. Being energetic as he is, Chanyeol would usually blast music while at home, didn’t matter to him whether it was his own music or someone else’s, and dance around while doing chores. He’d do it in the car as well.

“Dancing is very fun, baby, you still haven’t found the perfect song for you.”

Just watching him prance around the house made you unbelievably happy, but you never let yourself get into it. As much as you watched and enjoyed every single one of his performances, and for many of them, you’d learnt the whole choreography, you didn’t allow yourself to get carried away beyond a gentle sway.

The thing is you loved dancing. You actually loved to the point it was your main form of exercise. Who doesn’t love getting carried away with their favorite music? You just were aware of the quality of the movements you produced, so you refused to do it in front of other people.

“I wasn’t doing anything with your enemies! And they’re not your enemies, you’re just petty!”

You stood back up and forcefully pulled the sofa back to its original place. Then, you turned off the game console without even worrying to save your progress and left the controller on top of the table a bit more harshly than necessary and left the room in a huff.

When Chanyeol asked you to move in with him, you knew you wouldn’t have as much privacy as you used to do living in your tiny one bedroom apartment, but you didn’t particularly mind it. By that point, you had already spent plenty of time at each other’s homes and he was an easy going person, so you felt at home. Besides, his busy schedule kept him out of the house most of the day; so you felt at ease. Even more so when you discovered, in a party with his band mates where he pulled it out as an entertainment safe bet, that he had unlimited access to one of your favorite videogames. So now, whenever he was out and you wanted to exercise, you’d turn it on and dance on your own, enjoyed yourself and bumped into enough stuff around the house Chanyeol would always enquire about the bruises on your legs.

His brows furrowed when he heard your snappy tone and you made your way out of the living room.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” He followed you into the bathroom where you struggled to get out of your sweaty workout clothes while at the same time avoiding his gaze from scanning your flushed face. “You’ve already been living here for long enough, you can use anything here whenever you can, you know that?”

“It’s not that!” You responded, annoyed and in the verge of tears.

He waited for you to come out of your t-shirt to grab your hand and pull you back into the bedroom, where he sat in the middle of the bed, cross legged and making a space big enough between your legs for you to fit in comfortably. You flinched when his fingers started sliding down your still damp back in soothing movements, but couldn’t help but dive into his comforting hug.

“So now you’re gonna tell me what’s got you all up in arms today, hmm?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Yeah, but you know keeping bad things in will get you nowhere. Why are you angry? You seemed so happy when I came in.”

“I am not angry…” you said in a low tone while you tried to hide your face against Chanyeol’s chest.

“So what is it?” He cupped your face in his hand and raised your head to look at you. As soon as his eyes fixed on yours, you felt another wave of heat hit your cheeks. “Are you blushing?” You could almost hear the gears grinding in his brain as he connected the dots. “Is it because I caught you dancing?”

You let out an undefined sound that served as an affirmation and took your eyes away from him.

“I remember how embarrassing it was for you at Hee’s wedding, but there’s no one else but me here. You can enjoy yourself without a problem!”

“It’s not that… I can’t dance in front of you.”

“But why not, baby? I will do it with you, it’s fun!”

“I just…” you hesitated, but the expression on his face as he waited was enough. “I am a bad dancer, okay? I know that.”

He nodded with caution, not wanting to make you feel worse with his acknowledgement.

“Is there a problem with that?”

“Of course there is a problem! You dance for a living”

“Well, I do other stuff too, but it’s a pretty big part. What does that have to do with this?”

“I love you, okay? I really like seeing you perform and I know you love what you do. But sometimes I wonder if I’m good enough for you,” you finally confessed.

“What?” his voice was higher pitched than usual to express his confusion. “Where is this all coming from?”

“I sometimes think…maybe if you see how bad I am at this, you will compare me to your other friends who also dance and think you can do better than me.”

“Are you really telling me you’re scared of me leaving you for someone who dances better than you?” his voice kept raising in disbelief.

“Well, if you put it that way! Just listen to me! You are always around people who are more talented, better looking and who have more interesting lives than me. I have none of that. How am I supposed to feel!?”

Chanyeol leaned back into the mattress and pulled your body along with his, so in the end, he was lying across the bed on his back with you on top of him, resting you face against his t-shirt. You rose up your gaze at him and saw him staring at the ceiling with a blank expression, while his fingers never stopped drawing random patterns against your bare skin.

“You know, when I first got into this I was an awful dancer.”

“What?”

“Yeah, in comparison with Jongin or Sehun, there’s nothing I can do in terms of dancing even now. They were so much better than I was, and not just because of their natural talent. I’m a terrible dancer. My legs and arms feel too long to be controlled and collected as they are when they dance. All that you see now is the result of years of practice.”

“I have never been too self conscious about it because I trusted myself enough, but I remember there was this girl at the training centre who always made comments about my dancing. She was a bit older than I was and she used to tease me about it all the time. She wasn’t very nice.”

“Is she still mean?”

“Oh, maybe she is. I haven’t seen her in years, I ended up debuting with the guys but she never got to that point, despite the fact she had been training for years at that point.”

“That’ll serve her right,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, well. I try not to think a lot about it, because I can still hear her snickering while I performed.”

“I’m so sorry about that,” you hugged him softly from your position and his arms returned the favor around you.

“It’s okay. The thing about this is that I know how you feel. I know how hard it can be to face the world, expose what you have and to be confident enough that it’ll be good enough. But some people around us are more than willing to tear us down over our smallest mistakes, so it’s quite unfair that we do that to ourselves too. That’s what helped me get over it.”

“Yeah, but now you are a quite good dancer and get paid to do so! Why would I show something I know I am bad at?”

“Because you actually enjoy it! Allowing yourself to enjoy things is part of being kind to yourself, and that’s something you need to work on.”

You let out only a soft sigh as a response.

“You know you’re the most beautiful thing that’s ever been in my life, right?”

You propped your head up by resting your chin against his chest, looking him on, silently. His hand caressed your hair.

“Sometimes I have bad days too. Sometimes I’m sad or angry. Or frustrated, because I am not getting where I want to be. But then, I come home and see you around. Maybe you’re in the kitchen, or you’re working on your laptop, or playing with the dog. Doing whatever. Just by being there, you make my day brighter. You make me smile and laugh. You support me when I need to. You get me in ways barely no one else does and I get inspired by you daily.”

His confession left you speechless for a while. Of course, you knew you were in with Chanyeol for the long run. You’d gone through terrible enough times together when your relationship was made public, so now you weren’t going to give up and neither was him.

“You’re so beautiful and so good I don’t even care about other people anymore. Yeah, I have many beautiful friends and coworker. But they have nothing against you, doesn’t matter how much prettier you think they are. Besides, my grandma loves you very much despite your stellar introduction to the family; that can hardly be beat.”

A small tear managed to slide its way down your cheek when you closed your eyes and laughed wholeheartedly to the mention of his grandma, but he didn’t notice. Just seconds after he’d finished his speech, he’d sat up on the bed, kissed your forehead and started rummaging through the closet.

“Here, wear this one!”

He tossed you one of his older t-shirts, with the name of his group written on the back, worn out and soft, before stripping off his own work clothes and searching for more comfortable stuff.

“I’m a bit rusty lately, so it’s a good thing you were already working out, we can help each other.” You were still sitting on your bed, t-shirt in hand but in your underwear, not sure what to do. His head popped up behind one of the doors when he noticed you hadn’t moved and his eyes scanned up and down your poorly covered figure, with a cocky eyebrow raised and a smirk. “Or we could head into the shower and I could teach you some of the moves we do under artificial rain… but only if you want, of course…”

_________________________

A/N: It probably wasn’t made clear enough, but the song OC was dancing at the beginning would’ve been a BTS one, if those were included in the game, which I’m not sure of. BTS and Exo are not enemies and they probably even get on fairly well with each other, so take it just as a joke

Other Chanyeol shenanigans 

Holidays   (OC/One Shot/Fluff-Smut)

Experimentation    (Chanbaek/One shot/Fluff-soft smut)

MASTERLIST!?

#exo #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo angst #exo smut #exo fluff #chanyeol #Park Chanyeol #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol fanfictio #chanyeol angst #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol smut #kpop fanfiction #exo preference

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, outtoshatter!

Dear @outtoshatter​. You requested fluff, getting together, alternate first meetings, and something!Stiles. This was so much fun to write, and I’m thrilled to have the chance to create something for you. I hope you have the loveliest of holidays!! <3

Read On AO3

*****

Derek is a romantic. He dreams of finding his mate, of connecting with that special someone who will make his heart swoon.

"How did you know Dad was the one?" Derek asks his mom as he digs out a pink, glittery bear from beneath the pile of loose-limbed plushies. "Were there fireworks when you first met, or—?"

His cheeks flame. He can't tell his mom that the spun-sugar scent of Jenna's hair makes his heart race, or that the smell of Mark's baseball jersey gives him a boner. In fact, Derek's embarrassment is so thick she probably scents it despite being surrounded by a bunch of seven-year-olds with sugar highs from birthday cake and soda.

"The first time you meet your mate will always be significant,” Talia says as she hands the bear over to one of Cora's classmates. “It might be passionate and explosive, or it could spark a bond that builds and grows. It's influenced by who you are and where you are in your lives. But deep inside, you'll know. Your wolf, especially, will know."

"But what if my mate isn't a wolf? What if they can't sense the connection?"

"Humans cherish the notion of 'true love' as much as we do. And I bet your mate is someone who's sensitive and wise." She leans down and ruffles Derek's hair.

Derek wriggles out of his mom's touch. He's thirteen, not three.

"You think?" he asks. Maybe it is Jenna or Mark, although he was hoping his mate would be someone more… well, special.

"You'll see." Talia's smile disappears as she studies the line where Cora and her friends are waiting at the stuffing station. She counts their numbers under her breath and shakes her head. "Someone's missing. Will you help me find them, Der?"

Derek sighs. It might be Cora's birthday, but he's missing practice to babysit a bunch of second-graders at a Build-A-Bear. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I know this seems like an unbearable chore, but it means a lot to your sister that you're here. And to me, as well." His mom runs a hand along the back of Derek's neck and gives him a gentle squeeze.

Perhaps it's because it's close to a full moon, but Derek feels restless and edgy. Guilt washes through him at his snappishness, and he apologizes to his mom, giving her a quick hug before starting his walk-through.

There are bins of bears and cats and dogs and dragons in every color imaginable, their limp bodies waiting to be plumped up with poly-fill. He’s surprised Cora wanted a party here; her interests run more along the line of laser tag than dolls or stuffed animals. Although there's a backstory, he's sure; Cora had mumbled something about wanting to invite her whole class 'unlike that Lydia Martin', whereupon Mom's fangs dropped and her eyes flashed red. The next thing Derek knew, they had made a reservation for all twenty children.

It's not until Derek passes the displays of the Marvel and Star Wars bears that he finds the errant partygoer. Unlike the other boys in the class who dress in athletic wear stamped with Nike and Under Armor logos, he's wearing a faded t-shirt and a plaid overshirt, topped off by a pair of worn trainers.

Derek looks down at the limp plushie in the boy's hand. "Hey. Are you here for Cora's birthday party?" he asks softly.

The boy raises his eyes. They're ridiculously large for his face, amber orbs framed by long lashes and a buzzed haircut that make them look even bigger. Suddenly, they narrow as he looks Derek up and down.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Derek frowns, the defiance taking him by surprise. "Maybe I work here."

Any shyness the boy may have seems forgotten as he takes a step closer.

"No, you don't," he says, his tone raised in challenge. "You don't have a nametag and you're not wearing a vest."

The kid's smart. Derek is filled with the weird urge to push his buttons and protect him at the same time.

"You got me," Derek says, holding up his hands. "I'm Cora's brother, Derek." He points to the animal in the boy's hand. "Don't you want to wait in line with the others and get your bear stuffed?"

The boy straightens out his arm. "It's not a bear," he says. There's a slight hesitation, then he's turning the animal over. Derek sees that it has a long muzzle, pointed ears, and plastic blue eyes. "It's Can… um, Canis…”

"Canis Lupus. A wolf," Derek says, surprised.

The boy nods vigorously. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I didn't know if I was allowed to get something that wasn't a bear." The boy hangs his head, his fingers digging into the wolf's ample fur. "I've never been to one of these parties before."

Ah. Another reject from Lydia Martin's party list. The news makes Derek inexplicably angry.

"If I was getting one, I'd get a wolf, too," Derek says.

The boy looks up, his earlier disapproval of Derek apparently forgotten. "Yeah?"

"Totally." Derek crouches down and strokes the wolf's fur. "It's pretty skinny though," he says as his hand lingers on the nape of its neck. "We'd better go and fatten it up. Maybe get it some clothes?"

The boy shakes his head. "Wolves don't wear clothes," he says, his exasperation plain. "Duh."

Derek snorts. "Well, how about one of those scent things?" The discs seem to be popular; most of the other kids have one in hand.

The boy lifts the wolf to his face and buries his nose in its fur. "Nah. He smells good the way he is. But he needs a heart."

"Okay. Let's get one, uh—"

"Stiles," the boy answers. "Stiles," he repeats with a small scowl as Derek stares, bemused. "That's my name."

"Oh. Okay, Stiles." Derek stands up and holds out his hand. "Let's go. We've got a wolf to build."

Stiles places his hand in Derek's. It's small and a bit clammy, but Derek doesn't mind, surprisingly. They head towards the front of the store where Stiles takes his time in choosing a red heart out of the bin of hundreds. There's another display close by filled with a selection of noisemakers.

"Do you want one?" Derek asks as Stiles stares. There's a lot to choose from. "They have some songs and animals noises, and—"

"They don't have any wolf ones, though," Stiles says, seemingly put out. He pushes one of the buttons, rolling his eyes as a dinosaur's roar breaks through the tiny speaker. He chooses the dog button next.

God, no, Derek thinks.

Thankfully, Stiles passes on that one, too.

"What about this one?" Derek asks, pointing to number eleven. When Stiles presses the button, they hear the lub dub of a human heart, steady and true.

Stiles' face breaks into a huge grin. "That's perfect."

Derek opens the drawer, takes out the sound chip and hands it to Stiles, who curls his fingers around its edges and holds on tightly. By the time they make it to the stuffing station, Stiles is bouncing on his feet, a bundle of barely contained energy. He's also staring with a horrified expression at a boy who's twirling in a circle while rubbing his bear's poly-filled heart across his chest and down to his belly.

"Uh, Derek? Do I have to do that?" Stiles whispers as a Build-A-Bear employee eggs the boy on.

Maybe it's the vulnerability in Stiles' face, or the wobble in his voice, but Derek wants nothing more in that moment than to soothe Stiles' worry. He leans over and whispers, "You mean, act like something's crawling up your butt?"

Stiles lets out a half-gasp, half-laugh. "I can't move like that! What if I do it wrong and his heart won't work?"

"Listen to me, Stiles. I'm thirteen and I know a lot about wolves. Rubbing your wolf's heart on your pants or doing ten jumping jacks isn't going to make him come to life. What he needs is for you to care for him. To love him, and believe in him with all your might. Okay?"

"Okay." Stiles gives Derek a grateful smile, his face radiating his happiness.

Derek stands a bit straighter and catches his mother's eye. He's sure it's his alpha's approval and nothing else that makes him feel warm and tingly inside.

~*~

Derek used to be a romantic. He once dreamed of finding his true love, of meeting that special person whom he could care for and be cared for in return. But a series of bad relationships with people who either wanted different things in life (sorry, Braeden), or were only interested in him for his family's powerful connections (thanks, Jennifer), or who were, to put it bluntly, vindictive, psychotic stalkers (hello, Kate) has left Derek realizing not everyone is destined to have a mate. Of course, that also means one of the great Hale legacies has come to an end, although he's not sure why the Fates decided to pin that dubious distinction on him.

He doesn't want to end up like his Uncle Peter who, after losing his mate, creeps around with people half his age, filled with snark and cynicism. So Derek tries to settle, without success. His friends and family blame his inability to have a meaningful relationship on 'being too choosy', or 'not trying', or his 'emotional constipation'. He supposes it's a damning statement when even his best friends have given up their matchmaking attempts and relegated him to babysitting duty.

Derek's trying to decide whether he has time for a quick run before he goes grocery shopping, or whether he has enough milk and butter to postpone the errand altogether, when an EMT kit lands by his feet.

"Any plans for tonight?" Erica asks. Her smile is a bit too bright, her tone a shade too innocent.

Derek frowns and gives his co-worker the side-eye as he tries to figure out her angle. He can't believe there was a time where he thought he and Erica could be anything more than friends. She's gorgeous, of course, but she's also too perceptive and blunt as hell, and she calls Derek out on his bullshit more than anyone else aside from his own sisters. She feels like safety—like pack—but his wolf knows there's nothing more. Besides, she's snagged herself a handsome and brilliant ED doctor in Boyd—along with a ring, a two-bedroom Murray Hill apartment, and a five-year old daughter.

"Catching up on the second season of The Mandalorian?" Derek grins, baring a toothy smile of his own.

"Are you thirty-five or sixty-five, Derek? Because seriously, I can't tell. And since you phrased your answer in the form of a question and this isn't Jeopardy, I'm assuming those plans aren't set in stone."

Fuck. Erica had promised after the last disastrous blind date that she wouldn't try to set him up again. "I'm really not in the mood for company—"

"Even if it's a little girl who loves her godfather more than anyone else in the world?"

Derek sits up straighter. "You need me to watch Hailey?" He couldn't love Erica and Boyd's daughter any more than if she were his own.

"If you're up to it," Erica says, actually looking contrite. "I know it's your first day off in almost two weeks and I normally wouldn't ask, except… Well, the New York Public Library's doing this Children's Authors series, and her favorite writer's going to be reading today."

"The Fox and the Spark? I'm somewhat familiar," Derek says drily. He's read the story so many times he could recite it in his sleep.

"Yeah." Erica lets out a small laugh. "So, there's a second book that's coming out and the author's signing copies. Boyd was supposed to take her, but he has to cover for someone who called out with a family emergency. Greenberg won't let me change my shift, and I know you just finished yours, but—"

Derek puts a hand on Erica's shoulder. Next to Laura, Erica's his closest friend, and it's not like he really had plans.

"Don't give it another thought. Of course I'll take her."

A wave of relief sweeps over Erica's face. "I owe you one, Hale."

Derek lets out a small huff. He's pretty sure that if they were keeping tabs, he's going to come out on the short end when it comes to Erica and Boyd. Besides, an afternoon out with Hailey is bound to be better than his last several dates, even if he has to put up with a bunch of screaming kids.

~*~

As it turns out, there are a bunch of kids, but none of them are screaming because the man in front of them's woven some kind of crazy magic and has them in his thrall. He has thick brown hair that's the epitome of hipster chic, a wide mouth that pulls into an easy grin, and is wearing a heather grey t-shirt paired with khakis and a red hoodie. He looks young—young enough that Derek thought he worked for the library at first, a notion that's dispelled once Mrs. Purcell, the head librarian, gathers everyone together. His smile is bright and engaging, although it falters a bit when Mrs. Purcell stumbles over his name.

"Mieczyslaw," the man says with a self-deprecating grin. "Like 'mischief'. But I'll tell you a secret. No one calls me that, not even my family. You can just call me 'M'."

The news seems to delight the kids, who shout "Hi, M" in a loud chorus. M shows his appreciation by running across the front of the room and handing out high-fives.

"Is that really him?" Hailey wriggles in Derek's arms and cranes her neck, trying to get a better look. The construction-paper fox ears that they super-glued to her headband earlier that afternoon gets pushed aside at a precarious angle.

"That's really him," Derek affirms, which earns him an excited squeal.

"Put me down, D!" Hailey says with all the imperiousness of her mother, and it's all Derek can do, even with his superhuman strength, to keep her from toppling over.

"You can find a spot up close. No pushing or shoving, and if you can't see, ask politely. I'll be back here, okay?" He leans in and nuzzles her cheek to let her know she's safe and protected.

"Okay!" Hailey gives him a quick squeeze back before making her way up front. Derek is glad to see one of the other girls make room for her as Hailey sits down in the second row and clutches her book happily.

Derek straightens and runs a hand through his hair. He feels someone watching, and when he looks up, he suddenly locks eyes with M.

M rubs the back of his neck as a light flush spreads over his cheeks. It doesn't help to diminish his already-youthful appearance; in fact, it makes him look vulnerable—like prey—and the thought causes something to flare hot in Derek's belly. It's only when someone nudges him impatiently that he realizes that he's gawking in the middle of the room, surrounded by a restless audience that comes up to his knees. Derek mutters his apologies, then takes his six-foot frame to the back of the room where he watches from behind a row of brightly colored, miniature plastic chairs.

M starts off by saying that his best friend Scott is a veterinarian who works at a wolf sanctuary, and that M always thought wolves were the coolest. The tidbit makes Derek straighten to his full height and he puffs out his chest, inordinately pleased.

Most of the children already own copies of M's latest but choose to watch as M holds up a giant book that's nearly a foot-and-a-half tall. The pages are filled with illustrations—courtesy, M says, of his friend Isaac. The pictures are warm and soft, and detailed in a way that appeals to both a young and older audience. But even though they're beautiful, Derek finds his attention drifting elsewhere. He's mesmerized by the way M's fingers dance across the pages as he reads, how his eyes grow bright and animated when he hears the children laugh at his vocal impressions, and the way M's mouth—god, his mouth—turns down at the corners when he reaches a poignant scene. His voice defies categorization: it's raspy yet young, melodious but slightly off-pitch, and serious yet mischievous, as if an old soul had somehow merged with an adolescent’s energy.

The truth is that Derek's too distracted by M to pay close attention to the story. But after his brain momentarily shorts out from watching M lick his thumb to turn the page, it manages to reboot and catch the his next words:

"You need to care for him," the fairy said as Milo hugged his wolf. "You need to love him and believe in him with all your might."

Derek listens in a daze as M tells the group how Milo's wish for his wolf to come to life comes true. His own wolf perks up, and against the stench of the colognes and soaps and sweat of the crowd, he can pick out the welcome scent of citrus and cottonwood from back home. It's intoxicating, yet soothing and breathtakingly familiar, and in that moment the thread of hope that Derek's long thought cut manages to wriggle into his heart and take hold.

~*~

Derek absolutely does not push his way towards the front of the line. He just has longer legs.

His heart is in his throat and he's holding tight to Hailey, who's clutching her copy of Build A Wolf close to her chest. Derek doesn't understand how he could have missed the signs: the smattering of moles that grace M's cheek, the adorable tilt of his nose, or the warm intelligence of his eyes.

"Hi," Derek says when they reach the table where M's seated, his voice catching.

The Sharpie that M's twirling lazily between his fingers falls with a clatter. M stares at Derek, seemingly lost for words. A beautiful pink flush highlights his cheeks that Derek wants to trace with his thumb.

"You're a bit older than my usual fan. Bigger, too," M croaks. His face turns even brighter, and Derek can smell his surprise and the faint spice of his arousal.

"Stiles?" Derek blurts out. Upon seeing M's shocked expression, Derek tries to backtrack. "I'm sorry, it's just… well, you remind me of someone I knew from back home." When M doesn't deny the assumption, Derek continues, "I'm Derek Hale. Cora Hale's brother?"

M scrubs his face. "Wow, dude… wow, yeah, I am." He looks around and lowers his voice. "I'm surprised you recognized me. Or that you even remember who I am." When he smiles it's small and embarrassed, but Derek can also detect the happiness that colors his scent.

"I know you're probably busy, seeing as you're on a book tour and all, but do you want to grab a bite after you're done?" Derek feels breathless, and it's totally unlike him to be so forward, especially in the midst of an increasingly antsy crowd, but he feels like he's been waiting for this moment forever. "I mean, it can be something low key," he adds hastily, in case he's laying it on too strong. "I haven't been home in a while and it would be nice to catch up, and—"

There's a strong tug on his shirt sleeve. "Hi, Mr. M," Hailey pipes up. She's wearing a sweet smile but her eyes are impatient and determined. "Can you sign my book for me?"

"Sure, I'd love to." Stiles gives Derek an apologetic look. He greets Hailey with a complicated fist bump after commenting on her fox ears, uncaps his Sharpie, and opens the book to the front page. "Who should I make it out to?"

"To Mommy and Daddy and Hailey," Hailey decides. She tugs on Derek's sleeve more forcefully. "Do you think Mommy will like that?" she asks in a loud whisper.

Derek bends down and kisses her forehead. "I think she's going to love it," he says, nuzzling her neck. When he stands back up, Stiles has finished signing, but his smile seems a bit forced. "So, about dinner..." Stiles doesn't answer immediately; Derek falters as he takes back the book, his hopes sinking with each passing second.

Stiles' eyes lower, his once-happy scent souring. "Sorry," he says, his expression unreadable. "I'm on a tight schedule."

Both the human and wolf sides of Derek are confused by Stiles' sudden rejection. "Maybe a drink?" he tries again, desperate. He may have been a terrible judge of character in his previous relationships, but he can't be wrong, not about this.

Stiles shakes his head. Before Derek can press his case, there's a cough as the father and son behind Derek fix him with matching glares. Derek and Hailey get shuffled towards the door, and by the time Derek regains his bearings and looks back he discovers that Stiles is posing for a selfie with the kid, his scent now off, his smile a bit too forced.

~*~

There are several truths about the holidays—and the end of the year in particular—which are that the crowds are larger, the stress is higher, and people tend to avoid hospitals as much as possible. It also means that Derek's unit is flooded with calls, from decorating mishaps and drunken shenanigans to medical emergencies that are so far gone they can no longer be handled by an urgent care. He hasn't hung out with both Boyd and Erica in nearly a month, and even though it's for a quick bite in the hospital's cafeteria, he'll take it.

"Seriously, Hale. You'd better have a smile on your face after your PTO."

Derek looks up from his burrito, his brows furrowed.

"I don't know why you think I have PTO, Erica, but I don't," he says, grimacing as a glob of beef and avocado drop onto the wax-paper wrap. He's never requested a holiday week since he started with the FDNY eleven years ago. His family's all on the West coast, and he'd rather leave the prime vacation weeks to his co-workers. It's not like he has someone special to share the holidays with, after all.

He ignores the ache in his chest as he thinks of Stiles.

"Yeah, well the thing is, now you do. The week between Christmas and New Year's," Erica clarifies as she takes a bite of her burger. "You never exercise the perks that go with your seniority, and don't think it's gone unnoticed. It's the department's gift to you. "

Derek stares, flummoxed. "Greenberg will never go for it."

"Are you kidding me? He was the first to say 'yes'. Said he's tired of seeing your grumpy mug whenever he rings in the New Year."

Boyd grins at Derek's obvious discomfort. Derek gives him the middle finger, which makes Boyd chuckle out loud.

"I don't even know if my family's around," Derek protests. Laura often spends the holidays with her husband's family in Sun Valley, and Cora's hard to pin down any time of year.

Erica and Body give him twin looks of guilt. "They are," Boyd says as he takes something out of his coat pocket and hands it to Derek. "We already spoke to Laura. She can't wait to see you."

"Ho, ho, ho." Erica grins.

"What's this?" Derek asks as he stares at the envelope in Boyd's hand.

Boyd shrugs but Derek's not fooled by his casual stance. "A first-class plane ticket. An early Christmas present from us to you." His usually placid expression grows sheepish. "Look man, we don't want to put you in a bad spot. If you really don't want to go, use the credit for another trip. But we knew that if it were up to you, you'd be spending Christmas alone, eating leftovers and watching It's a Wonderful Life for the hundredth time."

"Who says I need to be in a relationship to be happy?" Derek asks, his hackles rising. Besides, Boyd has it all wrong. Derek has Die Hard on his Christmas queue.

Yippee ki yay.

Boyd holds up both hands. "Not me. If you want to be a bachelor forever, I'm not one to judge."

"But I am," Erica says. "You don't date anymore, Der. Hell, when's the last time you even got laid? Which would also be fine, except it's not, because you're miserable and it's obvious that's not what you really want."

Sometimes Derek has a hard time following Erica's logic. Unfortunately, this is not one of those moments.

"It doesn't matter," he says, digging the excess rice out from his wrap. "I'm better off alone."

Erica and Boyd share a look. Derek feels a pang of envy at the way they so easily read each other's thoughts and their mutual love and support. He'd always fancied himself a romantic, but to finally find his mate only to be rejected flat out hurts worse than anything Kate had put him through. Which… well, it says a lot.

Boyd nudges the envelope towards the remains of Derek's burrito. "Do what's right to you." And just like that, he changes the subject as they argue over whether Brees or Brady will end the season with the most touchdown passes and have the better chance of securing a berth in the Super Bowl.

~*~

Minutes after Derek sets foot inside JFK, he remembers why he hates flying. It's the noise and the stress, the smell of impatience and sweat, and the lack of personal space as he waits to clear security. He jams his beanie down to cover his ears, and the glower he's wearing doesn't help the dubious looks being cast his way. By the time he reaches the concourse, he has to duck into a coffee shop to catch a break from all the commotion.

He's standing in line, trying to decide whether he'd rather have a green or carrot smoothie, when someone's suitcase catches his heel.

"Shit! Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" The stranger pulls back the offending piece of luggage, and Derek suddenly catches a whiff of a familiar scent amongst the flurry of clothing and limbs. "Are you okay?  I'm not exactly graceful on most days, but I'm working on like two hours of sleep and… " The man's voice trails off as he meets Derek's gaze, his whiskey-colored eyes widening further. "Derek?" he squeaks.

"Stiles," Derek answers, his voice equally strangled.

Stiles blows out a deep breath. "Oh, wow. What are the chances?" he mutters. His face turns blotchy.

Derek's wolf is pawing at his chest, begging Derek to not waste this second chance. "Uh… seeing as we're both here, I'm going to repeat my offer. For the drink. And a meal, if you'd like. Although I guess it's more like a grab and go." He's stumbling over his words and he feels the tips of his ears heat.

Stiles glances at the breakfast wraps and fruit bowls displayed behind the plexiglass counter. He pastes on a grin, although it seems strained at the edges. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, man; that'd be great." He orders an OJ and an egg wrap, while Derek finally decides on the green smoothie.

"Is that all you're getting?" Stiles asks after an awkward moment of silence.

Derek shrugs. "I ate before I got here. But you can order something else. I'm in a generous mood."

"Haha, big spender. I mean… " Stiles ducks his head and bites his lower lip. Derek watches helplessly as it reddens and swells. "Doesn't your daughter or wife want something, too?"

"I don't have a daughter or a wife," Derek says, his brow furrowing. "Or a girlfriend or a boyfriend, for that matter."

Stiles' mouth drops. "But who was the girl you were with at the book signing?"

Everything starts to slot together. Derek lets out a small chuckle of relief. "Hailey? She's the love of my life. She also happens to be the daughter of my best friends, Erica and Boyd, and my goddaughter. They couldn't make it to your signing because of a scheduling conflict, and I jumped in as a favor." He hands over a twenty to the cashier and deposits the remaining change in the tip jar, his shoulders suddenly lighter.

"Ohhh." Stiles wheels his bag around as they head out towards the gates. He stays close to Derek and his scent grows brighter and sweeter. "I totally jumped to the wrong conclusion," he confesses with a rueful grin. "And I don't want to make the same mistake twice, so I'm going to ask you straight out: are you heading back to Beacon Hills? Because if you are, I'd like to take you to a real dinner. If you're interested, of course," he hastens. "If not, that's cool, too—"

Derek stops and places his hand on Stiles' arm. "I happen to be going back to Beacon Hills. And I'm definitely interested."

A quick check of their tickets shows they're on the same flight into Sacramento International. When they reach the gate, Derek marches up to the counter and trades in his first-class ticket for a business-class seat next to Stiles. He hurries back to the waiting area, flashing a 'thumbs up' sign and grinning like a loon. The look of pure joy that lights up Stiles' face makes Derek's wolf howl with glee.

"So I was curious... why did you choose Mieczyslaw as your nom de plume?" Derek asks as he sits, resting his bag on the floor between them.

Stiles huffs out a laugh. "Mieczyslaw is my name—at least, it's the one I was born with. But it was too complicated to say, so my best friend Scott nicknamed me 'Stiles' when we were younger." He shrugs, as if to say, the rest is history. "Anyway, I wrote The Fox and the Spark for Scott and Allison's son and they finally convinced me to submit it to a publisher. I really didn't think it would go anywhere, and it seemed like it would be less of a rejection if I sent it as 'Mieczyslaw' instead of 'Stiles'."

"And then you ended up with a best-seller," Derek finishes with a grin. He stares at the label on his cup, rubbing an edge that's grown worn from condensation. "Hailey's favorite book is The Fox and the Spark. But I think I'm partial to your latest. The one where a boy builds a wolf out of snow and wishes he'd come to life."

Stiles sucks in a deep breath. "It's based on one of my greatest memories."

"The memory of a wolf? Or someone else?"

Stiles' cheeks stain a beautiful pink. "Uh, a little bit of both? I've always been drawn to wolves, but I've also never forgotten how nice you were to me at Cora's party. I mean, you're Derek Hale—Cora's cool, older brother. I kind of built you up after that, turned our meeting into some kind of mythos, but even then I hadn't been prepared for you to be so…" He gestures with his long, graceful fingers up and down Derek's torso. "I mean, look at you. You're ridiculously hot, plus you were so amazing with your goddaughter. You probably work saving kittens or puppies or endangered wildlife or something—"

Derek coughs. "People. I'm an EMT."

"See! I mean, your fucking perfect. It's a good thing I didn't know all these things before, because otherwise, like, mind blown." Stiles mimes an explosion with his hands.

"I'm hardly special. Although I do have a book written about me. How many people can say that?" Derek teases.

"Yeah." Stiles' grin fades slightly, his hands falling to his sides. "About that. I know it must seem weird, but I'm not some obsessed fan, I promise."

Derek shakes his head. It's too early to tell Stiles about werewolves and their mates, but he wants Stiles to know that the feeling is mutual. That Stiles' story is the same one Derek's been living in since they first met.

"It's okay, Stiles. I feel the same way, too." Emboldened, he takes Stiles' hand in his, his eyes dropping to Stiles' mouth as his mate licks his lips.

"Dude," Stiles whispers, awed.

~*~

By the time they touch down in Sacramento, Derek's learned all about Stiles' closest friends. He learns that Scott is a werewolf as well, though bitten and not born, and that Stiles is considered part of Scott's pack. He's surprised to know that the infamous Lydia Martin is now one of Stiles' closest confidants, and that they'd briefly dated before deciding they were better off as friends. He also discovers that the Sheriff who busted Derek and his friends on Senior Prank Day (and let them off with a warning) is none other than Stiles' dad.

Derek and Stiles eventually connect the dots and realize that Stiles' friend Isaac went to the same college as, and remains friendly with, Erica and Boyd. He's happy to know that Stiles also lives in New York, on the Upper West Side near Riverside Park, which happens to be one of Derek's favorite places to jog. And he discovers other things about Stiles—like how Stiles is ticklish along his sides (just below the curve of his lowest rib), and how his lips are just as soft as they look, and how Stiles goes absolutely crazy when Derek scents and mouths his neck.

In fact, by the time they disembark, their mutual attraction is pretty much apparent to everybody—including the Sheriff, who pointedly avoids looking at Stiles' neck, and Laura, who just laughs.

Stiles lifts the hem of his scarf to hide the evidence, his cheeks flaming. Derek's just glad that neither the Sheriff or his sister can see the other places Derek's marked.

"Looks like you've finally found a flight you enjoyed, baby bro," Laura says as she wraps her arm around his shoulders and squeezes. "I'm so glad you're home."

Derek closes his eyes and breathes Laura in, his wolf settling at the smell of her shampoo, the warmth of his skin, and the feeling of home. "Me too."

Laura nuzzles the crook of his neck. "You smell different," she says as she leans back, her gaze sharp and assessing.

Derek glances at Stiles, who looks over to Derek at exactly the same time and waves at him with a blinding grin. "Um, yeah. About that..."

"I don't mean in that way," Laura says, wrinkling her nose. "Although he is a cutie. What I mean is that you smell... happy."

"I am," Derek says, realizing he means it. He can't wait to introduce Stiles to the rest of his family and begin formally courting his mate. But for now, he and Stiles know they have something special. They've entered the next chapter of their lives, one that already has a great beginning.

And the romantic in Derek knows this story will have a happy ending.

#outtoshatter #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

[redwoodrroad]

5, 14, 29, and 33 for Arkus and Eridunis :3c

hey! thank you so much for asking!! <3

5. Do they have any nicknames or pet names or other aliases?

For Arkus, he uses terms like "my dear," "my love," "darling," etc, but he'll also use things that are somehow even more romantic..... like.... "dummy"..... lol

Eridunis is very basic but also a romantic, so he uses "babe," "sweetheart," "handsome," "beautiful," etc

They don't really use aliases unless it's like.... their professional titles. So in a public setting they'll almost always use "The Commander" or "The Magister," respectively, almost without fail. Sometimes they'll refer to each other by name, maybe if it's just one of them hanging out with one or two members of Dragon's Watch, but even then it's rare; they both have worked very hard under their titles, and they want others to respect the positions as much as they do for each other!

14. Are they a simple person to please or difficult?

check it and the rest out under the cut :D

Arkus can be very wishy-washy; he's sometimes easy to please when he doesn't have a lot of other things going on, but if things start piling up, he's honestly more likely to become a micromanager. He doesn't want things to go wrong if it's something important. If it's something not as important, though, he's very realistic about it and takes a step back, and then he becomes more amenable.

As for Eridunis, he's become a very skeptical person, and he's lost a lot of people from just telling someone to go to a dangerous location and perform xyz task, so that sort of burned him and made him more uncertain about any course of action that hasn't been thoroughly planned out. But again, if it's things that aren't as important and not conceivably deadly, he's more chill, and he'll always be impressed by his friends when they're successful at doing something.

29. Are they an organized person? Or more laissez-faire?

Arkus tends to be very organized anywhere that isn't his own office space lol you take one look at his field offices and you say "wow, he's so put-together, and his process is probably so efficient," but you look at his office in the Priory...... hoo boy..... he's got.... papers in his drawers, pens everywhere, a filing cabinet filled with binders and reports that he keeps forgetting to go through, a map of Tyria on the wall with like post-it notes and that red string connecting shit that you'd have no idea what the purpose was for..... he finds it very comfortable lol

Eridunis is.... okay with organization..... he doesn't really have an office space or a whole lot of belongings, and Arkus likes taking care of paperwork stuff anyway, so he doesn't have to hold onto a lot of official things given that they're a team and always working together for any guild-related thing. When he's traveling, he's very organized because he typically has only the essentials on him. At home, he does a lot of chores around the house and tries to keep it as clean and organized as possible between the cats and gardening and visitors coming by, and Arkus tries his best to keep his little home office space clean as well (although, Eridunis tells him he does not care if his office at home is a mess because it's his office, and Eridunis will never go in there with the intention to like move shit around because that would be rude!)

33. How do they act around people they don't know? Are they shy around strangers or dismissive of them?

For things like official events and parties, normally Arkus and Eridunis are attending together (unless he's like super busy at the Priory, which does happen from time to time), and because they're together, normally Eridunis will introduce him and do most of the talking. Arkus isn't shy, he's just.... sort of haughty at parties, idk, something in his brain flips on, and he's like "i need to be the sexiest succulent at this soiree so help me god" and like. he's sort of always like that, and he's not rude about it either, he just likes being sort of mysterious and almost demure at these things. Normally when they're out doing shit, it's like adventuring and field work, and he's always running around and investigating things, but like at parties he can sort of let himself be quiet and pretty and all dolled up and know that everyone in the room is looking at him and Eridunis and thinking "damn they look good." Similarly, when it's meeting new officials out in the field, Eridunis will still do most of the talking since he's the Commander, and Arkus will cut in when he feels he needs to. Plus, he can trust that Eridunis will defer to his judgement no matter what it is they're discussing. Again, he's not shy, he just sees meeting people in the field as a process that has its steps, and he'll only dismiss someone or be critical of them if they don't take him seriously.

As for Eridunis, he's always been very boisterous and never very shy when meeting new people. He's actually mellowed out quite a lot, so where he used to be very excited to meet new people and work with them, these days he's sort of become accustomed to constantly cycling new officials into his like mental rolodex so to speak. Like I said for the Arkus portion of this, he does most of the introductory stuff and sort of navigates small talk--he's way better now than he was at the beginning of his career--and he'll always introduce Arkus as an equally important part of his deal as the Commander. Any plans that come to him go to Arkus as well, not in any preferential order, they deal with things together. I think Eridunis is typically very easy to work with, and he doesn't put up any additional wall between himself and a new ally unless it's at a party. Where Arkus is totally into the party world, Eridunis is just not into it. Too stuffy! Too vulnerable to party crashers! Meeting new people at parties has Eridunis putting up a whole wall of professionality; he does the handshakes and the introductions for himself and Arkus, and he'll do as much small talk as he needs to until he can just get to the point of the conversation or move along lol. That said, he's still like good at it, he's good at talking to people and making them laugh, he just doesn't like being there at all, especially when it's a rich person party for humans--like, the season 2 party chapter is a perfect example of Eridunis being sort of good at parties but ultimately hating every part of it. That said, he'll be very nice to most people he would like to be dismissive about lol and you can catch him and Arkus gossiping all the way home from any party

thank you again for asking! i always love gushing about them, and these were especially fun hehe

#foxholemonster #redwoods words #arkus tag #eridunis tag #gw2

[zims-left-shoe]

Agent Mothman (Dib x Male Reader)

Like most of my other fics, characters are aged up to high school. Plus, a friendly reminder that my request box is open!!

The silence was overwhelming. The pressure of everyone's collective held breath was almost palpable, your chest reactively tightening for no good reason. As you looked around you, eyes were wide, jaws were set and clenched in preparation to cringe. The only two who stuck out from the crowd were Zim and Dib, when did they not? Zim looked lost in thought, mind seemingly several thousand galaxies away, hands folded together neatly in front of his face, his chin resting on them. Dib, on the other hand, appeared to be over the whole ordeal. His posture was slouched as he stared ahead at the board through half-lidded eyes. As the quiet persisted, an anxious energy settled over your classmates (besides the two previously mentioned, of course). Eyes twitched, fingernails scraped the tables, feet began to tap restlessly on the floor.

"Y/n." The teacher finally spoke, bringing the whole class to sigh in relief, the building pressure suddenly released all at once. Many students leaned back in their chairs, high fiving each other. "Y/n, you will be partnered with Dib." You shrugged your shoulders as many looked to you in pity, some even whispering their sympathies. You had never aligned yourself with any group in particular throughout your school year. Granted, you were only a few months in, but you had switched schools so much you had learned to play the field. You avoided Dib considering his stigma, enabling you to be tolerated by the majority, however you were never mean to him. In fact, you rather liked him. You only chose to silently observe him rather than act upon your curiosity. 

"But wait, who's going to be paired with Zim?" You heard a student groan, everyone's breath being held once more. You let your gaze drift over to your partner. He seemed relieved, a slight smile settling on his lips. This was probably the best case scenario for everyone. No one else had to work with Dib, and you were the only one who never picked on him for being just a bit different. 

Once your teacher had finished reading names, you were all asked to sit with your partners. Without an ounce of reluctance, you sauntered over to Dib's otherwise empty table, taking one of the many available seats surrounding him. You needed to figure out a plan quickly, considering you only had one night to do the project. The project wasn't super taxing, in fact it seemed almost like busy work that would promote socialization at the same time, but it wasn't like your time frame was ideal. 

"Dib, right?" You held up your hand in a slight wave. "I don't think I've officially introduced myself. I'm Y/n."

"I know. The new kid who has no real friends yet is somehow still deemed acceptable by the popular kids? An anomaly for sure." Red painted his face, his eyes widening as he realized how his words may have came off as. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. Or creepy. You know what? I'll just stop talking." An awkward chuckle escaped your lips as his eyes fell to his sneakers. After a slight pause, Dib spoke again, his tone much more reserved than before. "I can just do the whole project and you can put your name on it if you want. It's not that hard." He was giving you an out, not wanting to piss you off. Reaching an arm out, you slugged his shoulder lightly.

"Nah, come on. I don't roll that way. Besides, I want to hang out with you a little."

"You...want to hang out...with me?" Dib pointed a finger to himself, eyes wide behind his large glasses. An incredulous expression was etched into every single feature of his face, as if he couldn't believe those words left your mouth. 

"Yeah." After that syllable, the bell rang, dismissing you from school. You stood up, gathering your things. "Anyway, I'll be at your place after dinner. Just text me your address or whatever." You quickly scribbled your digits down on a scrap piece of paper that was laying around, passing it to him. "See ya!" You dashed away, sneaking one last glance back to see Dib still sitting in his chair, as still as a statue, not believing that this was even happening. 

Your stomach felt as if it was full of butterflies, and you couldn't shake the grin that had spread across your face as you began your walk home. 

God...he was even cuter than I thought... You were embarrassed by your own thoughts, pinching yourself on the arm. Truth was, you may or may not have been stalking him a little. He lived in your neighborhood, and you just couldn't help it. You had always been a hopeless romantic of sorts, and all it took was one look at him in class giving a presentation on the gremlin in his backyard and you were in love. You didn't even need his address, you knew where he lived, but you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable, so you asked for it anyway. Plus, it was a way to sneak him your number. And it wasn't as if you were actively trying to find out where he lived. It was pretty much impossible to ignore him and Zim screaming at each other as they ran back and forth between their houses all day. 

"This is going to be a long night." You sighed out, foot striking out to kick a rock, the satisfying skittering sounds it made calming your nerves a small amount. 

-

You drew in a deep breath as you brought your fist to the door, rapping on it a few times. Rocking back on your heels, you clutched your notebook and other supplies tightly to your chest, internally cringing at yourself. Everyone at school thought you were incredibly cool, but on the inside, you were just a lovesick gay who was overflowing with big dumb energy. The door swung open, bringing you to jump and be pulled from your motivational speech that was being given inside your head. 

"Come on in. I'm surprised you showed up." Dib stepped aside to let you in, gesturing past the living room to the kitchen where a purple-haired girl sat at a table, picking at the remaining food on her plate. A floating monitor hovered near the table as well. "We're just finishing dinner, but you can follow me if you want." Nodding, you padded behind the social outcast wordlessly, taking a seat next to him at the table. "Gaz, this is Y/n, my partner for my project. Y/n, this is my sister Gaz."

"Hey." You waved to the girl. Her expression remained squinty as she continued to pick at her food, eyes dancing between her plate and a Game Slave which was charging on the counter. 

"Whatever." She grumbled, never even directly acknowledging your existence once. You began to wonder if Dib was actually the most normal out of his entire family, which was saying something. Dib awkwardly cleared his throat as he pointed to the floating monitor, which displayed a man in a lab coat and goggles furiously working on something. 

"Oh, and this is my dad. He's at work right now, like usual. When he can't be with us for dinner, he either videocalls us from his lab or plays a pre-recorded video reminding us of chores and dinner instructions." Despite how sad the things he had just said sounded, not an ounce of bitterness was up for display on his face. Instead, his eyes shone with pride, happy to have a dad who was making a difference in the world, even if he could never really be a conventional father. "Anyway, just let me clean up and then we can get to work." Dib stood up, bringing his own plate over to the sink and running it under water, placing it in in its respective place in the dishwasher afterwards. Waving for you to follow him, he led you down the hall to a room that was clearly his. The door was covered in posters and stickers of aliens and other supernatural creatures, a good sized "Keep Out" sign the centerpiece. You wondered what would be inside, becoming excited. You figured you were the first person besides his own family to be seeing his room. He twisted the knob, casually pushing the door open, allowing you to step inside. 

"Wow..." You trailed off as you glanced around. There was so much to look at. Your eyes darted from one thing to the next, barely able to take it all in. There were several computer monitors surrounding a desk that was littered in papers and catalogues for supernatural hunting items, a few prototypes of possibly his dad's inventions scattered there as well. His room was lined with posters of aliens and other entities, an important looking briefcase thrown haphazardly onto his bed. The one thing that held your gaze the longest was a ginormous cork board. Several photos, drawings, diagrams, and hurried scribbles of notes were tacked up there, filling it to the max. Each paper was connected with color coded strings, things circled in colored pen seemingly at random, although you knew better. It was the definition of organized chaos. In large, bold, red letters, one word was scrawled on a paper at the top of the board: ZIM.

"I'm sorry, I tried to clean it as best I could. It's still kind of a mess." Dib hurriedly stacked papers together on his desk, trying to make it look presentable. 

"It's fine, don't worry about it. You should see my room. Half of my shit isn't even out of boxes yet, and we moved in months ago." You laughed, sitting down on his floor. "So, alien invasion, huh? Isn't Zim that kid with the skin condition?" You asked, gesturing to his cork board. His shoulders tensed as he unplugged his computer and brought it down to the ground, taking a seat beside you.

"Could we just get to work? Please?" He seemed to want to sweep that subject under the rug, and you decided that you would let him.

"Okay...so anyway, this research poster. You got a topic in mind?" Your prompt drew him out of his unsociable shell, albeit hesitantly. 

"Personally, I was thinking Area 51, but if you wanted to do something else..." He genuinely appeared to not want to upset you, despite usually not caring about how he came off to others. 

"That sounds great, Dib. Interesting too. You think they're really hiding aliens there?" Laying down on your stomach, you rested your face in the palms of your hands, gearing up for a long talk. A smile crept onto your face as immediately his eyes lit up.

"I'm glad you asked."

-

"I think we have the essentials. Now we just need to get them onto the poster, which is probably the most time consuming part." Dib stretched his arms towards the ceiling while you yawned and cracked your back. You didn't know how long you had been sitting on the floor for, but a glance to the clock by his bed told you it was 8:01 pm. The two of you had spent the last couple of hours researching, organizing notes, and mainly just talking about yourselves. You had no idea why everyone constantly was ragging on him. You found him to be incredibly interesting and entertaining, hanging onto every single word he spoke. You weren't really sure if you believed in all of these supernatural creatures, but you also didn't think that they couldn't exist. 

"I think so too. You ready to start on the poster now?" Reaching out, you gathered the posterboard and construction paper Dib had brought in from his garage together.

"Yeah, in a minute. I have to use the bathroom and then see what Gaz is up to, I'll be back in a few." You hummed a response, Dib standing up and exiting, closing the door softly behind him. Deciding to take a closer look at the Zim conspiracy board, you pushed yourself to your feet, leaning close to try and decipher the grainy images. One in particular caught your eye. It wasn't in color, and everything seemed fairly blurry. Zim, or what was supposedly Zim, was hunched over something that looked to be a robot. Except, as you looked even closer, Zim seemed to have these buggish eyes and long, skinny antennae in place of his hair. Rubbing your eyes, you flopped down onto Dib's bed.

"God, I must be seeing things." You had managed to convince yourself that you had been staring at computer screens and papers for far too long, and that your eyes were playing tricks on you, showing you what Dib wanted you to see. Closing your eyes for a minute, the rise and fall of your chest turned slow and steady, and you could feel your grip on reality loosening. 

A ringtone of sorts snapped you back from your almost-doze, and at first you thought it was your phone, but after waking up a bit more, you realized it was coming from one of Dib's monitors. It appeared he was getting a call. The monitor showed nothing besides a logo of some sort of eye, as well as an option to accept the call or decline. Filled with curiosity, your feet took you to his desk where his monitor sat. You barely felt in control of your body as your finger swiped at the screen in the direction to accept the call.

"Agent Mothman-" The voice coming through the monitor was distorted, but you got the impression that it was on purpose. The image displayed was a dark silhouette of what seemed to be a man. "You're not Mothman."

"You mean that cryptid from West Virginia? No. I'm not." You took a seat in Dib's desk chair, which was very comfy. You assumed he spent a lot of time in it when he wasn't hanging out with Zim. 

"Who are you and what do you know?" The voice was menacing, and you vaguely wondered if Dib was involved in something more serious than you thought. Quirking an eyebrow, you tried to not let any miniscule amount of fear you were feeling show.

"I'm, we'll just say Agent, uh...Nessie." Feeling uncreative, your mind drifted to the Loch Ness Monster. 

"You're not Nessie either." 

"You got one of those too? Ugh, fine. What about Agent Chupacabra?"

"Well, no, but...you're not any agent we know of."

"But I could be! Agent Chupacabra reporting for duty!" You brought your hand up to your head stiffly in a mock salute.

"But you're not a member of the Swollen Eyeball! What are you doing on Mothman's computer?" 

"The Swollen what now?" You were smiling stupidly, only because you couldn't really grasp what the current situation was. 

"Hey, sorry, Gaz decided to hound me over drinking the last soda, so I took a little longer than I thought-" Dib opened the door to reveal you sitting in his desk chair, trying to look all spooky for the guy in the monitor. You thought he'd laugh at your stupidity, but he was not in the least bit amused. "OH MY GOD AGENT DARK BOOTY!" Slamming his room door, he darted over to where you were sitting, almost tripping and falling on his face. He made a strangled noise as he noticed the disappointed expression that rested on the silhouette's face.

"Who is your little friend, Agent Mothman?" The distorted voice was cold, and you could feel Dib almost shrink next to you.

"Listen, I can explain-"

"I thought we stressed secrecy, and the fact that you are not allowed to have outsiders sit in on our important meetings."

"Meeting?" All of a sudden, several of the other monitors sparked to life, various other silhouettes coming into view. Just in one glance, you could see that Dib wanted nothing more than to fade away into a cloud of space dust in that moment. You stayed silent, knowing that Dib was in some serious trouble because of you.

"We had a meeting at 8:30 pm sharp, Mothman. You knew this. And you had a friend over?" Dib's face, already pale, turned even more so. Any lighter, and you thought for sure he'd become a ghost on the spot. 

"I am so sorry, I had a school project, and he's my partner, I lost track of time." He looked absolutely helpless, and without a word, you stood up and gathered the poster supplies. Snapping back to his senses, he turned to you and began shoving you out of his room and herding you to the front door.

"Dib, I-"

"You really need to go!" There were no other words said between the two of you as he quite literally slammed the door in your face. A sigh slipped past your lips as you clutched your project items in your arms, dragging your feet across the pavement on your walk home. You lazily stumbled through your front door, mumbling a greeting to your parent(s) as you headed to your room, gearing yourself up to finish the project before morning. 

-

"Thank you to Y/n and Dib for their, erm, informative...presentation on Area 51. That was your last one, so enjoy your last five or so minutes of class." Your teacher went back to their desk as you and Dib retreated to your own table. You hadn't talked much since the incident last night, and quite frankly, you were tired from spending hours of your night creating the visual portion of your project. Dib's lips were tightly pressed together in a thin line, and you guessed there was something he wanted to get off his chest. 

"Look, Dib. If there's something you want to say to me, just do it. I'm sorry for answering your call, that was not a good move on my part, and I also apologize for getting you in trouble with your, uh...society." Running a hand through his dark hair, Dib shook his head.

"No, that was my bad. I forgot I had a meeting. I'm also really sorry for kicking you out and then forcing you to finish the project on your own." Your expression softened, unable to resist forgiving him.

"Yeah, that was kind of a dick move." You elbowed him jokingly, hoping he would loosen up now that bygones were bygones.

"No, seriously. How can I make it up to you?" He looked as if he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. He had gotten a taste of what having someone who genuinely enjoyed being around him was like, and he wasn't willing to let that go. A sly grin tugged at your lips, and almost immediately an idea came to mind.

"Consider yourself forgiven if you take me ghost hunting, or whatever it is you do." His shoulders tensed, but relaxed when he realized you weren't making fun of him. 

"Well, you're in luck. I just received a case file investigation last night on a bigfoot lead. I'll pick you up at eight, if that works?" His words were cautious, almost as if he still believed you were phishing.

"It's a date!" You cheered happily, already excited about getting to spend more time with him. A faint blush dusted his cheeks at your wordage.

"Of-Of course." He stammered out, grateful for the bell that rang not even a second after. 

"See you tonight, Dib!" You waved as you made your way home, wanting eight to come as fast as possible.

"He knows the project is over, right?" Torque Smacky raised an eyebrow, questioning Dib and wondering why someone as cool as you would be hanging around with a guy like Dib by choice. 

-

The doorbell rang, and you sprang up from where you sat on the couch, overjoyed to head out. Practically throwing open the door revealed Dib in all of his trench coat glory, albeit a bit nervous looking and sweaty. 

"Alright Mr. Mothman, where are we going?" You grabbed onto his arm, eventually linking it with your own. He cringed at the nickname, but resisted nothing else. 

"To the park. Apparently, some woman saw bigfoot there the other night. Also, fun fact, I saw bigfoot in my garage one time. He was using the belt sander." Your eyes widened, and you immediately realized why everyone called him crazy. You took it upon yourself to believe him. He obviously believed in himself, so why shouldn't you?

"Interesting. You see any other spooks in your time here?" He shrugged as you walked.

"I mean, I think a few ghosts and, well, aliens of course, but we've been over that. Also, I have vague memories of being abducted by aliens as a kid. I think they were trying to experiment on me to create some sort of genius super baby or something." You couldn't help the laughter that tumbled from your mouth. It wasn't necessarily laughing at him, more so that you weren't sure how else to respond. You didn't want to put him down, but at the same time, his story was very out there. And although you weren't 100% on board with the whole supernatural thing, you believed in him and his words. If that was his truth, you would stand by it. "You ever see anything supernatural?" You pointed a finger to yourself, as if to ask, 'me?'. 

"Well, I mean...I did live in West Virginia for a while when I was younger...a lot younger. And then we moved around a lot." Your eyes instinctively narrowed as you tried to recall those times with you and your neighborhood friends. "And, you know, Mothman was like the local legend. He's basically a celebrity down there."

"No way! Did you actually, like, see him?" If you didn't already have it, you sure had his full attention now. 

"No. I believed in him for a while, but we never saw him, and as I got older and distanced myself from there, I just kind of figured it was bullshit. My friends and I, we would go out at night trying to hunt for him with flashlights and stuff. Sometimes we'd bring lamps onto the porch and plug them in, building little 'Welcome, Mothman' forts to sleep in." You chuckled, remembering how much you had believed in all the spookies and specters as a child. 

"That's adorable." Dib's lips were parted in a smile as he continued to lead you deeper into the park. You weren't sure when you had actually gotten there, but you weren't really paying much attention.

"Well, maybe we could do that together some time. I know Mothman isn't really big in this part of the country, but who knows. Maybe he'll come." Softly bumping Dib in the side, you were pleased to see his smile only grow. 

"I'd like that." The nice moment was interrupted by rustling of the trees, and Dib turned on his flashlight, pointing it to the treetops. "There!"

"I thought bigfoot was more on the ground!" You called as you raced after him. You both came to a grinding halt, your feet skidding in the grass to try and avoid ramming straight into Dib's back. The boy you were with aggressively pointed his flashlight into the tree, resulting in a loud hiss from whatever was up there. "Maybe it's just a cat, Dib!" You tried to pull him away, not really liking how riled up he was at the moment.

"Zim! What are you doing here?! What evil things are you planning?" 

"Zim?" You looked upwards, following the beam of the flashlight. Sure enough, there was a green body hunched in a tree branch, a robot of some sort next to him. 

"None of your business, Dib-stink!" Zim spat, turning to face your friend. It was then you got a good look at his face. It wasn't the slightly abnormal one you were used to seeing every day. His eyes were red and buglike, sleek, black antennae sprouting from his head. 

"Holy shit, Dib. You're not crazy." You flicked your flashlight on as well, aiming it at who you thought was your classmate. "He really is an alien!" A strangled cry came from the alien sitting atop the tree branch.

"GIR! Do something!"

"Yes, master!" The once cheerful-looking robot suddenly turned much more serious, dropping down from the branch to where the two of you were standing. You yelped, unsure of what this thing was capable of.

"Relax, his robot is pretty much usele-" Dib began, but his sentence came to an abrupt end when several missals and other weapons emerged from his head. 

"How do you like GIR's new adjustments, Dib? I finally got his behavioral chip fixed to where he's responsive, but not too serious." Zim smirked, and with the point of one of his clawed fingers, his robot was on the two of you. 

Simultaneously, both of you let out a scream, reaching desperately for each other's hands as you ran for your lives back to Dib's place. Your feet pounded the pavement, lungs feeling as if someone was raking knives down your throat and organs, yet despite all that, you both refused to look back. Only when you were on his porch did you feel comfortable sneaking a glace behind you, only to find an empty street lit up by streetlights. Breathing heavily, the two of you leaned on each other for support. Dib looked very worse for wear. He didn't seem to be too athletically inclined. 

"I think...we lost him..." You spoke between gasps for air, grinning all the while. He nodded vigorously, still wheezing. After the two of you had regained your breath, you both managed to catch each other's gaze. You felt every portion of your brain that was in charge of thinking shut down as you leaned in closer to him. You were barely even aware of what you were doing as you pressed your lips to his. His eyes looked as if they were about to burst from his skull, but after a moment, they eased shut as he relaxed into the kiss. You pulled away, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, almost as if your face was on fire. Your stomach was tied in too many knots to even look at Dib, but if you had, you would have seen that he wasn't fairing much better. In fact, he was probably in worse condition. "Thanks for the night of fun, Agent Mothman."

"Uh-huh." He mumbled out, and his brain looked miles away. You decided just to go home before you did or said anything else that could be classified as stupid. As you power-walked away, Dib's hand found its way to his lips, where the feeling and warmth of your own still lingered.

#invader zim #fanfic #fanfiction #dib membrane #dib x reader #invader zim x reader #invader zim fic #invader zim fanfiction #oneshot #one shot #invader zim oneshot #invader zim one shot

[saiilorstars]

Rise Up

Ch.11: Black Orchid

Previous Story: It Had To Be You || Current Masterlist

Pairings: Barry Allen x OFC

Chapter Summary: Following a tip from a time travelling friend, Belén starts the endeavor to find a way into the Green: a world for all botanist metahumans. She goes in search of a potential ally from another botanist metahuman, Black Orchid, who seems like she would rather work alone.

Pronunciation of OC: Bell-en. The last syllable has an emphasis so it’s not pronounced like ‘Helen’ would be.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother​ @anotherunreadblog​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​ @stareyedplanet​ @perfectlystiles​ [If you’d like to be part of this OC’s taglist, let me know!]

"So...Mom knows about you?" Maritza watched her sister's uncomfortable form on the other side of the glass. Belén gave a silent nod of her head. She'd told Maritza about her mother finding out, in the worst way possible, she was the Azalea. "Gosh, Belén...she didn't take it well, did she?"

Belén shook her head. "Nope. She's moved on from the 'I'm ignoring you' phase and she's onto full fledged anger."

"I think the word 'metahuman' is just tarnished for her after everything that's happened," Maritza said, though in no way did she mean to give their mother a pass on her behavior. "I'm sorry."

"No, this one's not on you. It's on me," Belén sighed. "I thought that maybe after telling her my secret, things between us might start getting better again, but…"

"I'm sorry," Maritza felt the need to say again. After everything Belén had told her, going from their mother's challenging personality to the metahumans hunting them down...Maritza could only say 'sorry'. She wished, wished, that she could do something to help Belén but her past choices have prohibited her from. "I really wish I could help you out there."

Belén found it in her to smile. She didn't know how, or when, but coming to see Maritza had stopped being a chore and more like...a way to relieve stress. She could tell Maritza everything that was going on and not be judged. She hadn't quite forgiven Maritza for everything she did last year, but...Belén could say she was getting there.

Feeling her phone buzz inside her pocket, Belén gave it a quick check and found a text from Iris. She had to say goodbye to Maritza in order to meet back at STAR Labs.

~ 0 ~

Iris had done her job as best as she could and when she wanted to, she could almost be like a spy the way she found information on people. She had pulled up a profile of a woman dressed in a black and magenta suit with an over-sized jacket. Soon as Cisco saw the picture he let out a wolf whistle, along with questions about her specific clothing choice.

"This is why I do the suits, just saying," he raised his hands to show he was just making a statement...a true statement.

"Who are we looking at, Iris?" Belén asked, brown eyes already scanning the woman's picture till it burned in her mind.

"She calls herself Black Orchid," Iris began. She rose from her seat and zoomed in on the picture of woman. "As far as anyone knows, she's a meta with - take a guess - plant-based powers who usually appears in the lower parts of the city."

"The slummy parts?" Barry figured that would be the best place to lay low and still make a name for themselves.

"She's not known for always appearing when needed, but she's still known enough to have search engine results," Iris scrolled through some of her pictures, stopping at a familiar tab. "This is actually from my old blog. People still send me stuff and take a look at the date for this post."

Belén walked up to the screen to find the date stamp. The picture was of Black Orchid holding up one, no doubt, petty thief in her arms in front of a crowd of people. "That's last month." She turned sideways, one finger pointed behind her at the picture. "She's an active meta, then."

"It's been weeks since her last appearance but do you know what's interesting about that too? It's right around the time Datura and you fought for the first time."

"Could it be that's she's scared of Datura, then?" Caitlin's theory made sense since pretty much everyone in the room feared the siphoner.

"It also means she's keeping up with the news and thus still very much in the city," Barry crossed his arms.

"So, why exactly are we looking for this girl?" Cisco made the question he'd been dying to ask ever since Iris made them gather in the cortex.

Belén walked back to the main desk and put her arms over them, nervous for some reason. It wasn't like her friends would call her crazy for what she wanted to do, after all. "Graciela mentioned a place to me - the Green - that I could use to contact other metahumans that are like me. It's a place like the Speedforce, if you will, where I could train and...meet metas like me. Meta who could help me get better so that I can fight Datura and actually stand a chance."

"And you think Black Orchid will be that meta?" Cisco languidly pointed at the picture on the screen.

"With any luck, she's got a better handle on her powers," Belén shrugged. "And I can pretty much use any help I can get."

"It's worth a shot," Barry agreed with her. "We just have to find her and bring her in."

"Like...here?" Caitlin blinked. She hadn't made that connection until now. "Do we think that'd be a good idea? Revealing where the Azalea and the Flash work?"

"She's obviously taking on crime already," Iris gestured to the pictures she'd collected. "She could be a good addition to the team."

"Black Orchid was a villain on my Earth before she disappeared," Harry startled the group from behind. He'd come in as quiet as usual and strode down the room with purpose. He came to a stop in front of the pictures on the screen and gazed at them for a few seconds. "You should be careful. She's as toxic as you, Belén."

"But she's not a villain here, clearly," Belén said. "And I actually need her to be toxic, okay?"

Harry turned sideways, giving them all a look that said 'you're all idiots and are going to get killed'. "Bringing in more metahumans into this is only going to blow up in your face. You want to take Datura down? You kill her already."

"Easier said than done," Belén folded her arms. "And I'm not exactly looking to kill her."

"She is with you."

"Okay," Barry cut in before Harry's imprudence got worse. "Thank you, Harry, for your input but this is something Belén wants to do. I support her and so does everyone else."

Harry scoffed lightly. "Course you do. Cos you're all idiots."

"Do you have a better idea?" Cisco called from behind. "No?" he let a few more seconds of silence pass by before saying, "Then hush!"

"Thanks guys," Belén sent her friends a warm smile. "And thanks Iris for searching. My head's been all over the place, so…"

Iris nodded at her. "Any time. I can keep looking if you want."

"I say we focus on Black Orchid right now," Belén glanced at the screen. "We need to find her, so...yeah. Let's focus on where she appears most."

As the group made plans to continue searching for Black Orchid, eventually dispersing from the room, Harry inched closer to the super suits left on display. He looked over his shoulder to make sure he was alone in the room then yanked off Belén's suit tracker. He then gingerly planted a decoy in its place. For Jessie.

~ 0 ~

Datura swiftly caught Belén's suit tracker with both her hands and squealed with genuine delight. "Finally!" She held the small device between her fingers and clicked her tongue. "Now the game can finally start!"

Harry stood across her in the alley, his face blank of any expression. "My daughter is safe, right?"

Datura lowered her hand and offered one sneaky smile. "Sure. I do remember to feed her once in a while." She waited for his reaction but he stood frigid. "Don't like my joke? Fine. So-" she tucked the suit tracker into her pocket, "-what's my dear Belén up to now?"

Harry stayed quiet for a few minutes. He hated this so much. A snitch. That's what he was reduced to by some 25 year old in a leather suit. Not just that but a thief and a traitor.

"Wells?" Datura's voice darkened, as did the part of her face Harry could see with her mask. "I need to know what Belén is up to. I might just forget to give Jesse some dinner today."

The mention of his daughter made the man finally move from his stance. "She's looking for the metahuman, Black Orchid."

Datura snorted. "Killed her off a while ago," she mumbled. Her dark eyes met his surprised gaze and caused another sneaky smile to spread across her face. "What? You didn't know that one? Offed her months ago."

"Why?" Harry asked wearily. He would love to finally know what she was planning, what Zoom was planning...but learning that would mean he'd die seconds later.

"She was in my way and I thought she would be the one," Datura's cryptic answer was almost like she hadn't answered at all. All Harry got from that was it just another fight between criminals. "Anyways," she played with one of her long curls, "Let Belén find the doppelganger. No matter how hard she trains she'll never be better than me. It's just impossible." She turned to leave but stopped to give Harry one more warning, "By the way, Zoom might be requiring something from you soon."

At that, Harry gulped.

~ 0 ~

"I think we got a pretty good location, don't you think?" Iris glanced back at Belén to see the woman staring down at the kitchen table that held all of their information on Black Orchid.

They were in Belén's apartment, scouring through every last detail they could find of their meta. Together, they'd found more pictures of Black Orchid, some even when she was in the middle of some pretty gruesome fights.

"She's pretty much all over the slummy streets but, if I counted right, she's appeared at this intersection more than the others," Belén picked up a picture of an intersection that happened to hold a pretty cruddy-looking bar. "I bet you that bar is where we'll find out more about her."

"You want to go there?" Iris made a face at the picture. It was only a picture and it already scared her.

"It's okay, I can go by myself," Belén's reassurance didn't exactly help Iris because she didn't want Belén going there by herself either.

But someone knocked on the door, preventing Iris from voicing these opinions out loud. Belén let the picture back on the table and went to go open the door.

"Mom?" she blinked in surprise to see Veronica. Of course, when the surprise faded she was pretty relieved - and perhaps partly excited - to see her. "Come in!"

Veronica, in her part, still looked pretty unsure of herself. She walked in and gave a brief, small smile at Iris. "You're busy…"

"Yeah, but, don't worry. You wanted to talk?" Belén's excitement did not go unnoticed by Veronica.

With a sigh, Veronica shrugged. "I would like to, but...I don't know if it'll change things." She walked towards the kitchen and noticed all the papers sprawled across the table. "Were you two working?"

Iris didn't know what to respond with. She looked to Belén for some help, or clues, as to what to say. Would Belén want to disclose what they were actually doing or keep it away from Veronica?

"Yeah, we're looking for someone," Belén came to stand beside her mother, looking pretty unsure herself.

"A meta?" the distaste in Veronica's tone was clear for anyone to pick up on. She picked up a photograph of Black Orchid and frowned. "So you're really deep into this metahuman world."

"I have to be, Mom. I'm one of them," Belén said quietly and with eyes boring onto her mother's face for a reaction.

"Don't…" Veronica seemed to shiver at the reminder of Belén's metahuman side. "I wish you wouldn't say that so openly."

"Why not? It's the truth."

"Yes, but…" Veronica stopped and glanced at Iris. Just as the reporter was about to announce her departure, Veronica caught her off guard with a question. "How do you let her do this? How can you just let Belén go into this dangerous world and be okay with it?"

"Mom!" Belén exclaimed disapprovingly, but Iris was good with quick responses thanks to her line of work.

"Because it's her choice and, to be honest, she's a perfect fit for the job," Iris crossed her arms. "She and Barry are the perfect people to protect us. And people like us-" she pointed at herself then Veronica, "-have a duty to help them wherever we can. That includes being supportive."

Veronica's face was indescribable. On some part, she seemed impressed with the response...but then another part was angry Iris wasn't taking her side. "Well...you would say that," she said in the end in a low mumble, "Barry's your brother...does Joe know about this?" Iris didn't have to say or do anything for Veronica to know. "Course he does because he's your father."

"Mom, I thought we were going to talk…" Belén inwardly sighed. She should've known that Veronica would not get over this so quickly. At least there was no shouting this time.

"Belén, I just don't understand why you are so fixated on this...this world!"

"Because it's my world, mom. And I can't abandon it when there's so many people that could get hurt if I do."

Veronica shook her head. "I-I think we need to continue this another day because…"

Belén didn't want to keep pausing this argument because every time they did, it just dragged on the feelings more. But she also feared that if they kept going in one go, they really would just end up shouting at each other like the other times. At least this case seemed to be so grave for Veronica that she wasn't shouting. She was thinking. She may be thinking the wrong things but at least she was thinking…

"I'm here...whenever you want to pick up on things…" she said quietly.

Iris sympathized for her friend while Veronica walked out. "Bells, I'm so sorry."

"No," Belén sniffed and turned back for the table, eyes flickering from one picture to the other. "I need to focus on this."

"Yeah, but-"

"-Iris, I have to focus on this first. Maybe my mom just needs some more days to process this." Belén wanted to believe this so badly.

~ 0 ~

The pictures of Central City's slum parts did no justice to its reality. There was a lot more graffiti on the walls, a lot more trash on the streets. A lot of people were ruder and definitely looking for something to pick-pocket. Belén kept her arms crossed over her chest as she walked down the street. She found the bar from the picture she and Iris were looking at and went directly inside.

There was a foul odor at the entrance that she wished she could forget.

"Take a seat with me sweetheart," she heard a man say as she walked in.

"Screw off," she spat without sparing him a glance. She came up to the bar counter, which was pretty empty save for two more customers at the end. She pulled her phone out and left it on the counter in front of her, just in case she needed to snap pictures or look at one of the ones she already have.

A tall Asian woman with long, dark hair came by a couple minutes later. "What can I get you?"

"Um…" Belén wasn't that big of a drinker, and much less during the day so she just asked for a mimosa. While she waited, she began to look around the bar with more searching eyes. She didn't see anyone that would necessarily stand out. Everyone seemed to be doing their own things, whether it was legal or not.

"Here you go," the bar tender returned with the bright orange drink in her hand. As she put the glass down, her eyes lingered on Belén for a few seconds. "You looking for someone?" her tough voice startled Belén. When the woman nearly fell off her stool, the bartender smiled. "You're not from around here."

"That easy to tell?" Belén bit her lower lip.

"Yeah. Don't walk alone in these parts."

"Is it really that bad here?"

The bartender nodded her head. She popped a bubble from her bubble gum and smirked. "Not if you know how to take care of yourself."

Belén saw some odd marks on the side of the woman's neck. She was sure there were some stitches poking up from her blouse. "Are you okay?" she pointed at the injuries, startling the bartender for a moment.

"Yeah. Just got into it with someone, no big deal." The bartender seemed to shift from friendly to brief. "My name's Shivhan if you want to leave a tip," she said before walking away.

Belén picked up her mimosa and had a couple sips from it. As she was putting it down, she heard a familiar voice behind her that nearly made her spill the glass.

"You are beautiful but crazy," Barry stood behind her and not too pleased.

Belén turned her stool sideways so she could see him. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Iris told me you were coming here! Belén!" he whisper-hissed as he sat down next to her. "This is a shady place to be at on your own, Bells. How could you come here alone?"

"Um, because I'm a big girl who can take care of herself?"

Barry deadpanned her. That's not what he meant and she knew it. "It never hurts to have backup. Besides, do you even know what you'd say to Black Orchid if you found her?"

"No, but...I'm a reporter. I'd wing it," Belén picked up her mimosa again and smiled.

Barry shook his head at her. "Alright, so what do have? Any clues?"

"Not really. I was just kind of scoping the area out," Belén shrugged and briefly looked back at the room. "But there's barely any people here and those who are, are definitely not Black Orchid."

Barry could agree with that since almost every customer in the building were men. "Maybe we should try later."

"I'm hoping something will happen that would make Black Orchid appear."

"Bit cynical," remarked Barry.

"Desperate." Belén sighed and forgot about her glass as she turned her stool to face the room. "I don't know, maybe we could speed things up or something."

"Like how?"

"Well...Black Orchid seems to appear whenever there's trouble, so…"

Barry was giving her a strange look. "You want us to stage a fight?"

"Something like that."

"I don't know about that Belén...I think we need to come up with a good plan and then-"

Belén was about to cut him off with the fact they didn't - or rather she didn't - have time to sit down and plan, when they heard a loud crash from outside. At once Belén jumped off her stool and tried to peer out into the street from her spot.

"Fight! Fight!" a crowd sitting near the door started to chant, prompting some delirious laughter from the room. It was only a matter of seconds before they rushed out into the streets.

"Creeps," Shivhan, the bartender, spat while she continued to wipe down the counter.

Barry got up as well and sprinted up to the window to see what was going on. Belén soon followed and saw with him that there were a couple of masked thieves making out of a shop with some valuables. Two of them had guns.

"We gotta do something," Barry rushed out the door but just as he was about to leave the sidewalk, Belén yanked him to her side.

"This is our chance!"

"Belén, someone could get hurt!"

"They won't because you'll intervene if she's not here in 1 minute," Belén promised then faced the street.

The thieves were trying to make an escape but there were being confronted with another group intending on taking the stolen valuables. Just as they were about to fire, something purple swooped down and punched the two gunmen from the first thief band.

"I told you…" Belén sounded breathless as she gazed at none other than Black Orchid. Barry had to hand it to her and her precise thinking.

Black Orchid was a feared presence by most of the people outside, judging how they stepped back. From what they could see, the meta had long, dark hair and dark eyes hidden behind a black mask that covered half her face. She wore a one-suit in the colors of black and violet. It was the same one Iris had shown them earlier.

Black tendrils sprouted from the woman's back and captured three of the men. She threw them halfway down the street without regards of where they hit or how hard they hit. She then ducked to avoid being hit by one of the men behind her. She jumped back up and kicked a leg up to knock the man down. As bullets fired towards her, she used her vines to create a shield where the bullets embedded themselves. Once she disbanded the shield, she sent the bullets right back and injured two more men. The last two remaining were from each of band and they both looked equally terrified.

"Drop it and go," she ordered in a rough voice.

The two instantly dropped their stolen things and made a run for it. Black Orchid raised three fingers and when she'd pulled them down, her arm did a boomerang action and released two different black masses that attached themselves to the men.

"Barry, we gotta get her alone," Belén spoke quietly to the speedster next to her.

"But how?" Barry looked around and saw that while the thieves had been taken down - killed, really - the crowd around them was still watching Black Orchid like hawks.

"I brought something with me," Belén admitted. Barry looked down at her and saw her reaching into her purse. She showed him the tip of a syringe. His eyes widened at it but before he could say something she said, "It's a sedative."

"Belén, we can't really do-"

"-I need her, Barry," she told him like this was already decided with or without him. "Datura is going to kill me if I don't up my game. Black Orchid can help me do that."

There was some questionable tactics Barry saw Black Orchid far too comfortable with, but he knew that he could stand there and argue with Belén without making a difference. "Fine." He took the syringe from her and disappeared. A minute later, so did Black Orchid.

When Belén felt a set of arms pull her as well, she smiled. She found herself in an alley where Black Orchid was already down with sedation. "Thank you," she said to the speedster.

Barry gazed down at the unconscious metahuman. "I don't think she'll be thanking us for this."

~0~

Team STAR Labs was never one for kidnapping. So when Barry and Belén brought in a guest, kidnapped and unconscious, they had much to say over the matter.

"This is not legal," Caitlin was the first to say, or scold, at the two metas. Barry and Belén stood in the middle of the cortex, listening to everyone having their go at them. "You kidnapped someone!"

"Well, if I asked she wouldn't have come," Belén argued. "You guys didn't see her out there. She's tough."

"And you think you need to be the same?" Cisco's doubtful stare made her roll her eyes.

"I need to change something and she can help me figure out what."

"Least she's taking initiative," Harry inputted his own opinion, surprising Belén that he was actually siding with her since he originally didn't agree with the plan of finding Black Orchid. "You can't always be soft. Especially when someone's trying to kill you."

"Uh, thanks Harry," she offered the man a small smile before looking at Caitlin and Cisco. "I'm not hurting her. I just needed to get her here so I could talk to her."

"And if she doesn't want to help?" asked Cisco.

"Let's hope she does."

"Well…" Caitlin has looked up from a computer, "... now's your chance. She just woke up."

~0~

Black Orchid was a woman who could be scary. Her balled fists repeatedly pounded against the pipeline pod. "LET ME OUT!" She screamed and screamed the same thing.

Cisco honestly thought the pod wouldn't last if this kept going.

Black Orchid only stopped when she saw someone coming into the pipeline. She straightened up and raised her head to judge if this person was going to help or not. "Who are you?" She didn't have to wait for a verbal answer since she saw clear as day who was on the other side. "The Azalea? Hm. That's a shocker. Would you let me go? I didn't do nothing wrong."

"You did kill people…" Belén reminded, though not as a way to punish her.

"They're thugs! It's kill or be killed!"

"Look, I'm not here to talk about who you killed or how many you killed. I need your help."

Black Orchid dropped her arms to her sides. Her chin raised again and though she had a mask on, Belén swore she was being judged. "Why would the Azalea need my help?"

"Because Datura is a dangerous metahuman that I cannot stop if you don't teach me how to get into the Green."

Black Orchid lowered her head. "Excuse me? The Green? You know about that?" Belén nodded her head. "But you don't know how to get in?"

"Have you ever seen me in there?" Belén made a good point.

Black Orchid crossed her arms and looked around the pod she was trapped in. "And you thought the best way to get me to help you was to lock me up?"

"Not my best idea but I really needed to have a minute with you."

"Here's the thing, I don't trust you. And, let's be honest, you don't trust me." Black Orchid inched closer to the glass wall. "I'm not training anyone. In this world, it's all about yourself. I need to look out for myself."

"Well, that's a pretty way of looking at life," Belén remarked. "But look, I really need your help. Datura is coming back-"

"-then you fight her off. She's your fight, not mine. Why do you think I've hidden for a month now? I'm not looking to get killed."

"But if you don't help me a lot of people are going to die!"

"Better them than me," Black Orchid said so plainly, so flatly, that Belén's mouth almost fell to the floor.

"How could you...how could you say that?"

"Because it's the truth. Self preservation."

Belén was flabbergasted to hear such a thing.

~0~

"I cannot believe she said that!" Belén stormed into the cortex, looking ready to kill someone herself. "How rude! How...selfish!"

"Sorry it didn't work out, Bells," Cisco meant as a true apology but she scoffed at him.

"Are you, though? You weren't even on board with the idea in the first place!"

Cisco made a face but, knowing she was just upset, he kept his mouth shut. He, did, however, give a look at Barry and Caitlin. Someone else needed to step in.

"Belén, maybe we just need to give her some time," Barry's suggestion was also responded with a scoff.

"I don't have time!" She groaned and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Caitlin called after her.

"Out! Don't follow!"

"She's m-a-d mad," Cisco whistled then quickly looked back to see if Belén had heard.

"She's upset, and with good reason," Barry rubbed his forehead. "Let's just keep an eye on her. She took the suit so-"

"-she's really mad," Cisco blurted and received a disapproving look from Caitlin. Barry just sighed.

"She turned off the tracker in her suit," Caitlin informed a few minutes later.

"Not surprising," Barry mumbled and moved over to see the screen himself. "She couldn't have gotten far. I'll go get her. See if I can talk to her."

He zipped out of the cortex with his suit, intending on finding Belén and bringing her back. However, it turned out Belén was very good at hiding. It'd been at least an hour of him scouring through the city before he gave up and asked for some additional help. Caitlin and Cisco were monitoring as usual, but, like Barry, they didn't have a clue where Belén went. It was like she disappeared.

"I've gone through all the places she usually goes to, I'm starting to get worried," Barry admitted. He stood at the top of a rooftop overlooking the busy streets of the city. It was fine that Belén wanted to have some time alone but two hours of no contact felt wrong.

"Uh, we got something, Barry!" Cisco exclaimed.

"Did you find her?" Barry quickly asked, ready to go as soon as they gave him a place.

"Yeah, um…looks like some warehouse off on Third and Carson street."

"That's weird," remarked Caitlin. "That whole block is for warehouses. What could Belén be doing there?"

"Don't know but we're going to find out," Barry said before speeding down the building he was on. He followed the instructions from the two and didn't bother coming in cautiously. He skidded to a stop and looked around the empty warehouse. "Belén?" he called out and received no answer. "Belén!"

"What's going on, Barry?" Cisco asked after the third failed call for Belén.

"She's not here," Barry ripped the cowl off his head and started walking down the left. There was something making a light noise coming from that direction. "But I...I don't think this warehouse is empty…"

"Belén's tracker says she's there, dude," Cisco insisted, though he was going through the tracker's ping just to make sure.

"Well, I don't see her," Barry kept walking forwards, now spotting something silvery round the corner. "Belén?"

"Barry, be careful," Caitlin warned. She was beginning to think there was something wrong with this entire situation. As if the world was reading her mind, she got a different type of alert on her computer screen.

Barry reeled back when a redhead swung from the side. "Hi there pretty boy," Poison Ivy showed off a smug smirk before firing at the speedster with a high-tech gun.

"Barry!" Cisco shouted as the computer stopped getting readings from Barry's vitals, his entire suit's actually. "Everything's gone offline." Cisco leaned back against his chair and heaved a heavy breath.

"Caitlin!" they both heard Belén's voice shriek from the other end of the line.

The two in the cortex did a quick double-take at each other before calling out their friend's name.

"Where are you!?" Caitlin demanded while she worked to figure out how the meta alert was coming from one part while Belén's tracker was pinging from another.

"Downtown! And I'm -" Belén shrieked again.

As it turned out, she was nowhere near close Barry's location. She didn't know how it happened, to be honest. She'd been sulking on her own for a while when she started to see some familiar red energy from a distance. Trained or not, she was not planning on giving Datura a pass. She chased after the energy until it led her downtown…

Datura had sucker-punched her from behind. She seemed to be on a different plan because even though she had a clear, open path to hurt Belén again, she walked past the woman on the ground and moved towards a street pole. Her eyes glowed an orange before shooting lasers at the street pole.

As Belén turned on her stomach, she saw the bottom of the street pole begin to steam as the acid from the lasers melted it away.

"Better, run, run, run!" Datura sing-sang to the people around when the street pole started creaking and leaning on its side.

"Oh, dammit," Belén muttered and scrambled to her feet. She started throwing vines to pull away the people in danger of getting squashed.

Datura boredly rolled her eyes as if saving people was a waste of time, and to her it was. When Belén pulled the last person out of the way, Datura rubbed her hands together and created a sword from her red energy.

"Uh oh," Belén had the good sense to back away. "Caitlin!" she started to call but for some reason, no one answered her. "Caitlin!"

"Where are you!?" Caitlin demanded so suddenly that, if Belén had been more focused, she would've picked up on the fact something was wrong.

"Downtown! And I'm -" Belén shrieked and ducked when Datura threw her sword at her. "It's Datura! She's back!"

"And ready to win," Datura said with a proud smile. Her eyes glowed silver, as did her hands. She radiated in Lunar energy, something Belén hadn't quite seen before and was therefore a little scared. "The power of Eclipsa-" Datura's smile widened, but Belén once again noticed there was a different voice speaking with Datura's, -is mine. Here's a little taste of what I can do!" She drew her hands back and started firing consecutively with lunar bolts.

Belén whipped her hands in front of her and tried doing what she saw Black Orchid doing earlier. She created a makeshift shield in front of her but Datura was going nonstop. "Caitlin, I really need Barry right now!"

"I - we thought he was with you!" Cisco exclaimed. "We lost contact with him!"

That made Belén automatically drop her shield in shock. "What!?" A series of lunar bolts hit her square in the chest, knocking her back on the ground. She shook her head in an attempt to rid her ears of the warped sounds. "Caitlin...where's...Barry?"

"We're working on it!"

"Oooh, are you looking for your partner?" Datura started walking towards Belén who was sitting up. "Yay-high?" She made a gesture of Barry's height over her head, "Red suit? Admittedly good looking?" Belén openly glared at her, making the woman laugh. "Don't be jealous. But, I do know where your Flash is."

Belén paused and gave Datura a look. "What?" She quickly got up and, to Datura's surprise, she swung a vine to throw the Earth 2 meta into a bus stop bench. "If you hurt him-"

Datura raised a hand and delivered a shock of electricity Belén's way. The brunette screamed as her body convulsed with the electric shocks.

Datura slowly got up and felt something over her lip. She took a drip of blood off her skin and scowled at herself. "Great." She walked towards Belén, admittedly feeling wobbly on her feet. "Listen up Azalea, here's the deal. I've got your Flash all nice and unconscious thanks to a speed gun I swept from Earth 2-" she bent down in front of Belén, smirking at the weariness in the woman's face from being attacked, "-and if you want to see him again...you're gonna have to drop this. Poison Ivy doesn't do patience."

Belén blinked rapidly from the electricity still lingering in her body. "I...want to...see him."

Datura smirked. "Thought you would." She raised a hand, making it seem like she was going to wave goodbye when instead she fired one last energy beam to knock Belén out.

~ 0 ~

In the cortex gathered at the cortex after realizing their two leading metas had been taken right under their noses.

"It was a trap," Cisco said quietly, and defeatedly, at his chair. He had his hands put together to the bridge of his nose. "It was a trap and we didn't see it."

"But it doesn't make sense how Datura got Belén's suit tracker in the first place," Caitlin hated the fact she couldn't figure that mystery out. "We didn't even realize it was gone."

From the corner of the cortex stood Harry, still and silent. His jaw was clenched with guilt but he still could not say anything.

"We know where they are," Iris reminded them. She looked at the screen on the wall, displaying the last known whereabouts of Barry. "Let's just go get them."

"First of all, we don't even know if they're still going to be there," Cisco pointed out, dropping his hand to his lap. "Second of all, even if they are still there...what the hell are we supposed to do?" he made a quick gesture at their members. "They'd kill us."

Caitlin set a hand on Cisco's shoulder and gave a smile at the rest. "I think what Cisco's trying to say is that we do not have the...meta-skills to take on Datura and Poison Ivy at the same time."

"Well, we have to do something," Iris walked up to the desk and set her arms over the top. "Can we call in Nina?"

"Even then, taking on these two metas…" Caitlin gave a shake of her head. "She'll need back up."

"Where do we get that from?" Iris looked at the trio expectantly.

Cisco looked up at Caitlin, both apparently thinking of the same thing.

"Wait here," he pushed himself up from his chair. He exchanged a nod with Caitlin before the two walked out of the cortex.

~ 0 ~

After hours of screaming to be released, Black Orchid resigned herself to the fact she may never be getting out of the pipeline. She picked herself up as soon as she heard the pipeline door opening.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded when she was face to face with Caitlin and Cisco.

"Manners," Cisco pointed at her. "We have a proposition for you."

"And why the hell would I care?"

"Because it involves your freedom, smartass," Cisco snapped. Caitlin inwardly sighed. This would definitely infuriate Belén but right now what mattered was bringing her and Barry back.

Black Orchid leaned on her hip. "I'm listening."

"The Azalea and the Flash have been kidnapped by Datura. We need you to help our friend, the Tempest, get them back."

Black Orchid unceremoniously snorted. "You want me to go up against the siphoner this entire city is talking about? She's the reason I stopped showing my face."

"What do you mean?" Caitlin's eyebrows knitted together.

Black Orchid didn't like the fact she'd unintentionally admitted that. "It's clear that this Datura wants to kill anyone in her path. I've seen what she's done to the Azalea. Imagine what she'd do if she found another botanist metahuman? No way!"

Cisco wasn't in a particular mood to remind the woman she was a human being. So, like Belén, he did first and would apologize later. "Fine, then I guess you'll stay here forever. Or at least until you die."

"You wouldn't let me die," scoffed the meta.

"Have you seen any other prisoners here?" Cisco's question made the metahuman pause. "Yeah. What do you think happened to the others in here?"

"You can't do that!"

"Then please help us," Caitlin pleaded. "C'mon. You're afraid and we get that, but if you don't do anything then Datura will kill the Azalea. And, if there's no one left to fight Datura...you're not going to be safe anywhere."

"If I go up against her I'll die right there and then," Black Orchid countered with.

"You said you were hiding from Datura so you didn't show your face," Caitlin reminded. "But the Azalea said you showed your face today after a store got robbed. That doesn't sound like self preservation to me."

"...that was my favorite store," Black Orchid rolled her eyes, attempting to make it all casual.

"Cut the crap, girl!" Cisco exclaimed. "Your freedom's on the table and you're gonna seriously waste it?"

"We can help you," Caitlin added. "We can make sure you're well prepared. We could even help you heal from your past fights." Black Orchid visibly stiffened. "The Azalea told us about some of the stitches she saw on you. And like my friend said, your freedom is on the table."

Black Orchid's dark eyes flickered from one scientist to the next. She knew what her position was and how far she could actually get. It wasn't good. "Fine," she huffed and reached a hand to the back of her head where her mask's tie was. "But I need some stitches to be re-done. So, who's the medical doctor here?" she tore the mask off to reveal a familiar face, though not familiar to Caitlin or Cisco.

Bartender Shivhan Jang stared at the scientists.

Author's Note:

So, first of all, this is a disclaimer for the fact that while I am writing in the character of Black Orchid, I am doing a different VERSION of the character. Black Orchid belongs to the DC world.

Now, the reason I decided to write this character in was because I felt it genuinely wrong she was written and barely got recognition. I never heard of Black Orchid until I started doing research on botanical metahumans for this precise arc. It amazed me she was such a complex character that I just had to write my version of hers.

And a visual reference of Black Orchid, aka Shivhan, would be the Korean singer Sunmi.

#ocappreciation #arrowverseocs #fd: the flash #the flash #barry allen #barry allen imagines #barry allen fics #the flash fics #the flash imagines #oc: Belén Palayta #oc: the azalea #fic: rise up

[tosikoarts]

SFW Alphabet | Shiraishi Yoshitake

Long live the King! You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Relationship for Shiraishi is more about friendship with intimacy than a long tradition-based order of courtship and conventions. His affection does not manifest in standard gestures like buying flowers or singing serenades, acting all gentlemanly and saving the day pompously like a romantic novel protagonist. If he ever does anything from list above, it is his daydreaming that he doesn’t try to bring to life.

One of Shiraishi’s main goal in the relationship is to keep his partner happy, and the main sign that they are happy is their shrill laughter. It doesn’t matter if they are laughing because stray toothy animal bit his head or because the joke was funny (yay!), mission accomplished and he is satisfied.  Seeing them cry is worse than being hit hundred times with a baton.

Every single soul in the one kilometer radius know whom Shiraishi loves and why he loves them and how amazing, adorable, lovely, cool they are. Sugimoto and Asirpa are making earplugs because Shiraishi can’t shut the hell up. He managed to piss off the men who kidnapped him with bragging about his loved one. Kiroranke puts maximum effort not to bury him in the nearest snowdrift. His admiration doesn’t die down through years.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The best friend to get dumb with. Sing inappropriate songs, prank others, annoy boring elders and all this jazz. His jokes are never offensive because Shiraishi wants to have good time only but they are unpredictable and never repetitive. His instinct of self-preservation goes m.i.a. in the process so it’s literally life-saving to have a reliable person by the side.

If you need a friend to gossip with Shiraishi is you best choice. He got hot tea on everyone, I mean e v e r y o n e, from old man Hijikata to naïve Koito and he needs best friend to spill it. Damn, Shiraishi is definitely that bih with neon acrylics and golden hoops.

Probably the friend that introduce you to people and brings you into new circles. Wide range of characters, social statuses, affiliations gives a chance to meet potential partners. There is one unspoken rule though: you come here as Shiraishi’s bff, you leave this place as Shiraishi’s bff.

Speaking of which, he comes across as possessive friend. Restriction of other’s social circle and constant need in validation aren’t his behavior traits, but Shiraishi is sensitive to subtle changes in communication. Sole possibility of losing the established connection gives him extreme anxiety. To avoid it he can make concessions and sacrifice his own interests for them.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Eeh, indifferent? He doesn’t seem like a big fan of cuddling but will do it on occasions. When lights are down and they are in a private of the room, Shiraishi may spoon them to feel the comfort of another person and a little bit of safety he finds in their touch. He doesn’t have a preferred position as well: whatever his loved one wants he will do without hesitation.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

The closest home equivalent that Shiraishi knows is a dark prison cell and this is how he sees the stability in its best light. Yep, same food every day, funny inadequacies behind the adjacent wall, and a guy in not-so-sexy uniform who checks his asshole now and then. What a paradise. Seriously, he needs time to get used to concept of comfort zone. Maybe, after few years Shiraishi himself will offer to find a cozy place for both of them. Average cook. Doesn’t know how to hold a broom.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Breaking up with Shiraishi is a whole three-ring circus because he is hot and then cold, yes and then no. Get ready to prepare sad clown look for both you and him because it will be a long story: as soon as the idea settles in his head, Shiraishi will turn into giant wreck. Everybody around notices him walking in circles as well as asking Sugimoto how to properly show person that he is not interested. Of course, he ignores rational “just tell them, set a record straight”. Of course, Shiraishi plays dumb and tries to distance himself in all ways possible and impossible. The only way to end this agony is to break the relationship yourself before the mutual sympathy and respect turn into disgust and tension.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Doesn’t experience a burning passion to get married but doesn’t completely discards this possibility either. If person seems to be the only one, the meant one, Shiraishi will pop a question after 3-4 years of stable relationship. Cruel push and pull game, sudden break ups and get backs together kill his will to settle down. He may stay with them but Shiraishi will never bring up thought of marriage, wedding bells, and family.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Even the prison could not knock softness out of Shiraishi: he is utterly gentle with his partner, dreading hurting them or jeopardize their life with the hunt of tattooed skins. Choosing the right words is a little more complicated so translation of an emotional mess in his head does not always convey implied sentiment. That’s the reason why Shiraishi may be unintentionally harsh when it comes to serious conversations: he is torn between being tender and showing firm character.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Somehow, loves hugs but rarely initiate them. He is almost always cold, his skin feels cold and rough like papyrus paper, therefore, his partner frequently serves as a living heater. When they are busy with work or chores, Shiraishi catches their hand and embraces their arm, practically immobilizing it. Hints fly left and right when Shiraishi wants a hug: he really comes to the partner with puppy eyes and  index finger pointing towards one another because no, he won’t go for it himself, he want his loved one to do it.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Mentally, he already did it when they met for first time but it takes at least a month for Shiraishi to say three magic words aloud. Two would be even better. He's not serious enough to wait for the friendly phase of a romantic relationship when people have already got used to each other. The longer the relationship lasts, the more serious Shiraishi gets though. You can hear it in the changing of his voice when his playful “I love you so so much” shifts to calm and earnest confession.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Easily jealoused walking disaster that will follow his partner like a poodle if they give him a reason to doubt their faithfulness. Sometimes Shiraishi overreacts, he even thought Sugimoto was looking at his loved one somehow weirdly but quickly brushed this idea off just for it to come back to him next day. Shiraishi gets extremely needy and tries to show everybody that this is HIS person. He is NOT sharing. They love ME. He gives them extra kisses, hugs, grabs their hand and squeezes it few times, smiles at them as much as he physically can.

If his loved one is the one being overly flirtatious, Shiraishi feels awful. Wave of insecurity knocks him off the feet and he doesn’t know what to do. He is overthinker so without proper explanation Shiraishi comes up with the worst scenarios possible. In this case he distance himself until person reassures him in their relationship.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

In the beginning, Shiraishi seems the worst kisser in the world. He has little experience, almost no experience to be honest: yujo do not have time to teach clients the art of kissing. So, yeah, he is pretty average, goofy, sloppy and eager. Wants to kiss everywhere anyhow.  

After a little bit of training his kisses become more sophisticated, and Shiraishi himself doesn’t try to jump on his partner with smooches. He is still impatient when they put their hands on him and tends to get touchy even in public places. When Shiraishi gets in the mood for kissing session, he is unstoppable.

There is a sweet spot right under the earlobe kissing which send Shiraishi on the cloud nine. One kiss and he surrounds to the will of the partner. Ask whatever you want. Besides that he doesn’t care where to be kissed. Likes to give his partner gentle pecks on the nose and cheeks.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

If you remember chart going around the Tumblr with categories like “wine aunt, great at babysitting, mediocre at babysitting” Shiraishi would fall both in “God is dead, house is on fire” and “Is a baby”. Kids absolutely love him because they are on the same level *cough cough* and he is overall funny guy unlike the most adults around. Shiraishi likes active games and never sits still. For every crying child he got a candy and few tricks in his sleeve. He would love to be a father one day so he has few more minions to annoy grumpy people.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

People who sleep in together stay together. This is the rule of Yoshitake house. No matter what time his partner wakes up Shiraishi wakes up later. Nine in the morning? He is in the bed until noon. Three in the afternoon? He is still sleeping, squeezing his partner tightly in his arms. Even after waking up Shiraishi stays under the blanket. He playfully asks the loved one if they want to keep him company and cuddle too but if they are in hurry, he will lazily crawl out of bed and cook something for them.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Prefers to spend night outside gambling or drinking, skinny-dipping, lying in the grass and telling fables with varying percentage of truth. In the cold season Shiraishi still likes to go downtown but mainly to meet old friends and have dinner with them and his loved one. Rarely he chooses to stay in the comfort of home. Shiraishi teaches his partner different board games, and soon playing turns into a competition. From time to time Shiraishi loses on purpose, gifting sweet victory in shogi/igo/karuta to the most significant person in his life.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

You don’t have to ask anything unless you want to spend next hour listening to Shiraishi’s biography. He will tell you about the relationship with parents, about childhood scar on the knee, about search of Sister Miyazawa, and what a bastards his cellmates were. The list is endless, and every day Shiraishi remembers one more story he forgot to tell. There are only two things that can stop him: firm “no, not now, Shiraishi” from the partner and lack of mutual openness on their part.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It is impossible to piss Shiraishi off. His ability to reduce everything to a joke does not help only in advanced cases where person wanted to break his neck from the beginning. Even when his patience runs out, Shiraishi cannot explode in anger, he just grimaces, stomps, and spits sarcasm. In everyday life, he avoids conflicts as much as possible and does everything to find a convenient compromise so you won’t catch him slipping. He would rather go for a walk and leave another person to cool down than get involved in heated argument.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He doesn’t remember shit if his partner doesn’t indicate that it is important information. Worth remembering. Shiraishi, please, listen. At the same time he notices slight changes in their appearance, from new haircut to ring, and keeps in mind such details like eye color, favorite clothes, maybe, particular qualities like never buttoning shirt up completely or writing notes on the wrist. Anniversaries? Baby, he doesn’t remember what day it is today. Just give up.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first kiss. Not only did it happen completely by accident due to a bet, but it was so awkward and unexpected that Shiraishi forgot how kissing works. Yep, he froze feeling their warm lips on his, only eyebrows slightly raised up in disbelief. After this incident, Shiraishi could not stop thinking about them. God, he is disgrace, to embarrass yourself in front of the person you like. It could not be otherwise. To remedy the situation, Shiraishi pulled himself together, remembered the cheesiest lines in the reserve, and suggested to try again because he was astonished by their daring attitude. He has no idea what happened after that but that spontaneous kiss with a touch of childishness and innocence stayed with him forever.

Oh, one more moment! Meeting them after coming back from Karafuto. Honestly, Shiraishi didn’t believe he will make it out alive. Ogata or Kiroranke could slice his throat, hide the body, and tell Asirpa he left with his tail between his legs. Therefore, it is miracle to see their adorable face again.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Let’s be real, he is the one who needs protection. He also needs some ass-whooping for getting in troubles regularly too but that is not the point. Shiraishi rarely stands up against obviously strong opponents and chooses famous Joestar backup plan – run for his life with loved one under his arm. Another option includes involvement of threatening allies, mostly Sugimoto, to save them both. Sometimes courage overwhelms him, and Shiraishi comes up with risky but bold plan how to save them without outside help but it happens much less often.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Most of the time, Shiraishi hopes that everything will be fine by itself, every event will run like clockwork without excessive effort. Dates are unpretentious: no fancy restaurants, exquisite gifts, long intricate confessions of endless love, etc. To his credit, Shiraishi takes chores more or less seriously and does his best. For the anniversaries he transforms in person you've never seen before: dressed immaculately Shiraishi holds a small bouquet of bright moss phlox and box of sweet sakuramochis, his face glows with happiness and love, however, you can sense a nervousness behind the wide smile. On days so special, he is afraid to ruin the mood with usual tomfoolery.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Canonically, Shiraishi is not the tidiest person around. For some it may be stumbling block because constant battle with desire to throw him in hot springs and scrub ingrained dirt with the hardest sponge can be too tiresome. Also Shiraishi bites his nails until they bleed as well as pulls the hangnails until his fingers start to hurt.

A sense of proportion leaves Shiraishi as soon as a bottle of sake appears on the horizon. Even though he is funny and harmless drinker, he goes overboard with alcohol to end up throwing out behind the nearest pine.

Little lies always slip through the conversation no matter what it is about. When the truth is revealed, it is too late to blame him.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Shiraishi doesn’t care about his appearance but likes to get compliments on it. He knows bunch of tricks how to remove different stains from clothes in the wild and doesn't know how to avoid them. One look is enough for Shiraishi: he could wear his old prison uniform for life time because it is strangely comfortable and universal for any event. Except the pursuit by guards, of course.

Has mixed feelings about his tattoos. Living with them is to sit on a powder keg: you never know when the new man with the gold rush will try to scalp you alive.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Gets very, very attached to the friends and loved ones so break up feels like punch in the gut. Unlike the rest, Shiraishi basically refuses to let go. He gets clingy, keeps acting like nothing happened, like they are still the best friends, just to cover up growing emptiness inside. No matter how hard he ignores it, Shiraishi can feel how part of him fades. Sometimes even abrupt refusal doesn’t work, but it’s simply his way to deal with sadness.  After few weeks, he has an insight that things will never be the same and that when it hits him. Shiraishi tries to distance himself and it takes all of his strength since by this time he becomes easily distracted, irritated, and whiny. He needs months to get over it.

If they died or were killed, Shiraishi puts effort to maintain his clown image. Only closest people can notice small detail that give away his sorrow and melancholy. Doesn't attempt to get revenge. The time to recover increases to year.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Do you think Shiraishi went to jail so often because of negligence? Partially, yes. Besides the fact Shiraishi is being hopeless fool, he finds prison cell a great place to take a break from fleeting life. If you think about it time slows down behind bars. There’s no point to worry what tomorrow will bring, how to survive and make it through another scuffle, and his impressive skills guarantee him easy escape.

Shiraishi has joint hypermobility syndrome which helps him bend joints at unusual angles and even pull bones out of the fossae. Prolonged arthralgia is a side effect that Shiraishi had to deal with from the first conscious days. There are days when the pain becomes so excruciating that he just wants to lie still and stare at the sky for 24 hours.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Continuous scolding when there is a reason and when there is not. Yes, with his behavior it is difficult to resist the urge to say a couple of strong words or raise your voice, and Shiraishi is totally okay with it until rebuke becomes daily tradition.

Shiraishi's thoughts are always in motion, usually Brownian motion, his body twitches even when he tries to sit calmly in one place so stagnation in any form would be the death of him. This includes repetitive thoughts, boring behavior, and general passivity.

Shiraishi is genuinely upset if his partner doesn't like children. This is an inexplicable feeling, he really hurts if they ignore little ones or, worse, openly express dislike for kids.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Prepare yourself to unexpected awakening in the middle of the night, you will have a lot of them. Shiraishi keeps running from guardians of the law even in his sleep: he kicks, turns, throws his arms out to the sides for the most part of the night. Accidental elbow blow to the nose is not uncommon either. Worst of all, he does not wake up after that!

In the morning Shiraishi likes to sneak closer to his loved one and just presses him onto them. Like, completely. He throws his leg over them, hugs them, presses his cheek to their back, and if it feels just right in winter, in summer such cuddle can be a real test.

Abrupt sleep schedule changes do not bother Shiraishi at all. His organism is so adapted to the crazy lifestyle that he stays fresh even after sleepless night, after waking up at 3 a.m. and going to bed at 3 p.m.

#golden kamuy #shiraishi yoshitake #yoshitake shiraishi #golden kamuy headcanon #golden kamuy imagine #tosikowrites