#and i know it sounds dramatic but being home with my parents is actively exhausting esp since they keep screaming at each other every day

[szczylpierdolony]

also i havent had a legitimately free day (no school and no one but me home) for like a month and i thought maybe id get one tomorrow but my mom will be home so probably in two weeks. maybe. ill get to have one and its making me go crazy

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 4

 [Master List]

Mrs. Bianchi hadn’t been lying when she’d said he would see an influx in children. Within a week of visiting her, he had seven more kids, a total of thirteen. He definitely needed to hire some help- he couldn’t keep duplicating without exhausting his powers and despite Ember’s help, they wouldn’t be able to handle thirteen kids on their own. He could afford to hire help with all the money the Ghost King apparently had.

            “Danny!” A happy little shriek sounded from across the room, quickly growing closer. A small body crashed into his leg and a little ‘oomph’ came from the child who fell to the floor. “Danny! Look! Look, look!” Maru, an unusually energetic four-year-old, shoved a picture she’d drawn towards his face.

            The picture was of two stick figures, the smaller one was crying, and the bigger one was… comforting her? “Wow, Maru! It’s really creative!” He nodded sincerely. “Who’s that?” He pointed to the bigger stick person, assuming the smaller one was her.

            She sighed dramatically. “That’s you silly! Cause I was sad being left home alone all day but now I don’t have to cause mommy said you’re good!”

            He masked the frown that threatened to overtake his face when she mentioned being left alone all day. She didn’t want him to be sad, she wanted him to appreciate her art and reassure her that he’d be around for a while, so she didn’t have to be alone. So that’s what he did. “I like having you around too, Maru!” Her story was just like Marco’s. How many other parents left their children home alone all day just so they could afford to put food on the table?

            A little bell rang alerting him to someone standing in the entrance. He glanced at his watch (which he’d connected to the very thorough security system) and saw a couple of parents waiting to pick their kids up.

            “Allegra! Tommy! Your parents are here!” The two kids groaned, both totally immersed in their activities and not wanting to be dragged away. “Five minutes okay?” He smiled, opening the door for Mrs. Reik and Mia. “They’re finishing up what they’re doing, I’ll grab their bags.”

            They’d fallen into a routine, he, and the parents. They would show up, give their children a few minutes to finish what they were doing, and he’d grab their bags (which he often slipped a book, toy, or snack into without their knowing). Tommy’s bag was a little worn down and he made a mental note of the brand and color so he could replace it.

            When he made his way back to the two women they were each holding a child. “Danny are you still looking for help?” Mia asked, shifting Allegra on her hip.

            He nodded brightly. “Yeah, I haven’t had much time to look, and I don’t know many people yet, so it’s been difficult. If you’re interested or know someone who is, let me know!”

            Mrs. Reik thanked him, grabbed her son’s bag, and was on her way, but Mia lingered.

            “Do you have applications or…?” She trailed off, embarrassment clinging to her frame.

            He nodded, considering the tired look on her face. “I do. It’s mostly a formality,” he moved towards his filing cabinet and pulled out some papers. “and so I can run a background check and such. Do you have experience with kids?”

            She shifted Allegra pointedly. “Mama and- and papa were always working. I raised this one and Georgie too. Now that papa is… anyway, mama needs a little help with money and my schooling’s all online, so I was going to start working anyway.”

            “Well, fill this out, I’ll run the check, and we should be able to get you working real soon.” The bell rang alerting him to another parent. “You have my number if you have any questions.”

            After Mia left most of the parents arrived with the exception of only a few who worked much later. Danny’s daycare was open from seven thirty to six -which was, admittedly, a very long time. But he wanted to be as available as he could for families in need. With Mia’s help he wouldn’t feel so worn down at the end of his eleven-hour day. 

            And worn down he was. When he got back to his apartment he didn’t even realize it had been infiltrated. Usually he would notice something like that immediately, but Ancients he was tired. So tired he didn’t even react when his eyes finally landed on the vigilantes in his living room. He added two more to his list of people who’d managed to sneak up on him and also a mental note to brush up on his observational skills.

            “Oh. Hey.” He nodded slightly, dropping his bag on the ground and crouching to pet the cats, noting Curiosity’s energy. Good, the medicine was working. “Give me a second,” The vigilantes squinted, looking between each other in confusion. “I need coffee.” One of them nodded in understanding, the other sighed dramatically. “You guys want anything?”

            “Coffee sounds great.” The red one responded. Red Robin, his subconscious provided.

            “Agent A banned you from coffee, Red. “The purple one -Spoiler- groaned.

            Red shrugged. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him- or me. Besides, he offered, it’d be rude to turn him down!”

            Deciding this argument had nothing to do with him, Danny began brewing a fresh pot, poured two mugs, and grabbed a water bottle. Returning to the living room he found Red examining his pictures of him and his Fraid, and Purple collapsed into his couch. “You didn’t ask for anything, so I got you water. It’s still sealed.”

            She looked touched, grabbing the bottle, unsealing it, and taking a tentative sip. Red didn’t hesitate when grabbing the coffee and taking a large gulp, not even wincing at how hot it was.

            “So. What can I do for you guys?” He collapsed into the armchair across from Purple and began sipping on the coffee. Gross, he should have added sugar.

            Red squinted. “You don’t seem terribly shocked about our presence.”

            Danny shrugged, tiredly. “Hey man, it’s Gotham. I would have been annoyed that you guys broke my four-month streak of not running into any vigilantes or rogues except Nightwing ruined that streak a few nights ago so…”

            “You ran into Nightwing?” Red asked.

            Before Danny could answer, Spoiler spoke up. “What the hell’s going on with your pants?”

            He glanced down, considering the right leg of his jeans which, he now noticed, was covered in doodles, and sighing. “I should know better than to wear my nicer jeans to work, huh? Allegra probably did that while I wasn’t paying attention. Anyway, as fun as this is, I’m sure you didn’t come here for refreshments and conversation?”

            “Actually, that’s exactly why we’re here.” Red Robin placed his now empty mug on the coffee table (seriously, how did he drink it that fast? It’s literally a thousand degrees!) and sat beside Spoiler. “Just wanted to get to know the new guy in the Bowery.”

            Danny snorted, taking another sip before closing his eyes and tilting his face towards the ceiling. “More like, you wanted to get to know the guy who is doing a good thing for seemingly nothing in return and wondering if it’s a front or if he’s a rogue in the making. Am I right?” He slid one eye open and took in their surprised faces. “I’m not an idiot, I know what I’m doing is going to raise some questions. It took forever to get anyone in the community to trust me.”

            “So-”

            “Who’s your mystery donor?” Spoiler asked, cutting Red Robin off.

            He smirked. “You’re looking at him.”

            Tucker had added an egregiously wealthy relative to Danny’s backstory when recreating him. He’d forged a death certificate, a will, bank transfer’s, a charge for cremation and an urn, everything one could need to convince the world that his money was earned in a normal way and not through combat for a ghost throne. He even displayed the urn on a bookshelf in his living room.

            The two vigilantes stared, glancing at the run-down apartment, and back to him. “No really, who is it?” Red asked.

            Danny rolled his eyes. “I have a pretty big inheritance, just using it for something good. No one would trust me if I told them it was me though, definitely makes me seem like a rogue out to traffic their kids or something. Which,” He looked at them pointedly. “is not the case. I’m just doing what I can as a favor for a friend.”

            “Pretty big favor.” Purple whistled.

            “Yeah, and I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t have free time. But after finishing my bachelor’s and not needing to work, I was getting bored.” Technically, that was only partially true. Danny still spent more than his fair share of time working in the Infinite Realms as their king. But they didn’t need to know that.

            The vigilantes looked at each other skeptically before Red spoke again. “You decided to open up an entirely free daycare, paying for everything out of pocket, as a favor to someone because you were bored?”

            He shrugged.

            “No matter how much money you have that’s not sustainable!” Red threw his hands up in the air.

Danny considered this for a moment, taking another drink. “You know Bruce Wayne?” The two froze only for a moment, so short that it would be hard to catch unless you had experience reading people’s micro expressions. Which he did. “The amount of money I have makes Bruce Wayne look impoverished by comparison. That’s not a brag, it’s disgusting, and I’m trying to get rid of it. So. There. I can keep this daycare running for the rest of my life without putting a dent in my inheritance.”

            “How the hell do you have that much money!?” Purple shouted.

            “Listen, Purple, can I call you purple? I’ve been calling you Purple in my head this whole time, you didn’t exactly introduce yourselves.” Sure, he knew her name was Spoiler, but she didn’t need to know that. “Anyway, Purple, I inherited the money, don’t ask me how I have so much, ask the guy who gave it to me- well, you can’t, I guess, cause he’s dead, but that’s not the point.” He paused, realizing he’d been going several sentences without breathing which was definitely suspicious. “I have a shit ton of money; my friend raised me better than to be a rich capitalist scumbag so I’m doing my best to make her not hate me for my wealth.”

            Maybe that would be enough breadcrumbs to keep them busy for a while and off his back. He was rich, he inherited it from someone who was dead, he had a friend who hated the rich, he might as well give them his social security number and childhood home address while he was at it! Tucker could find someone more mysterious with less.

            He heard the distinct voice of a woman coming from their ears (probably a comm?). “You two done with RR’s weird obsession? We have actual crime to deal with.” It was an amused but stern voice, and it reminded him of Jazz the few times she’d joined Tucker on his comms.

            Red was grumbling something, but Purple seemed amused. “Well… I’m Spoiler, but Purple is fine too I suppose. Aaaaaand while this has been -fun- and all, we should probably get going. Thank you for answering our questions and for the drinks. Sorry for breaking into your apartment.”

            He grunted in response, the exhaustion of the day seeping into his weary bones. The sound of his window sliding open and shut signaled their departure and while he had intended to take a shower and eat dinner, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. This daycare thing was a lot more exhausting than he’d thought it would be.

            The thought he’d been having on and off since opening the place up reappeared. How long was he planning to keep this up? He’d done it all on a whim and by the time he realized what he was doing, it was done. He was now the (maybe proud?) owner of a free daycare in the middle of the Bowery and also the king of the infinite realms and how long was he going to be able to do both?

            Hiring Mia would help (would he be able to explain Lunch Lady and Ember?) but he had had so many ideas on how to help Gotham, he wanted to do it all. While he wasn’t a true Gothamite, hadn’t grown up here, had barely been here a few months, he’d grown to like the rough city, this wasn’t simply a favor to Lady Gotham anymore. It was something he really wanted to do. The people here needed help; he could provide it.

            Teaching some classes at Gotham U could be interesting but he hadn’t decided if he wanted to or not. He already had so much on his plate, could he really add something as big as teaching college level classes? And if he did want to teach, would his teaching be better off at Gotham U or maybe a younger level? If he could hire enough trustworthy people to watch over the daycare and run it themselves, he could work on some of this other plans for Gotham.

            Their education was extremely lacking anywhere that wasn’t Gotham Academy (for rich snobs) and he’d double majored in Engineering and Biochemistry, surely his knowledge would be useful to teenagers?

            Great. If he followed his usual pattern of following through on whatever whims he had, he was likely to build a whole Ancients damned school in the Narrows next. Although…. It would help with the exorbitant wealth thing….

~~~

            Danny had definitely prepared for messes. He’d stocked his cabinets with different cleaning supplies and tools for all kinds of spills. He’d expected food, drinks, and bodily fluids, but he didn’t have a cleaning product to get melted crayon out of carpets- he didn’t even know how Allegra had managed to melt the crayon!

            It hadn’t been that big of a deal, honestly, but the carpets were new, and Danny liked when the place looked organized (the same could not be said for his apartment or bedroom) and the large dark red stain on the light blue path of the carpet looked suspiciously like blood which was not a good look for the daycare.

            That was how Danny found himself searching the convenience store down the street for some kind of cleaning product for melted crayons. It was only after he’d gone to three convenience/grocery stores in the area that he decided he would make the trip across the river to the Upper East Side and search one of the ‘nicer’ stores.

            Despite his desire to get rid of his wealth, he didn’t like shopping at the fancier stores in the area, for the same reason he didn’t live in a penthouse in the Diamond District. He couldn’t help Gotham without putting himself in the shoes of her people. And while he wasn’t truly in their shoes (being an incredibly wealthy king meant he’d never truly understand their suffering) he also refused to live lavishly.

            But he really wanted to get the red crayon out of his carpets. There were… so many cleaning products. Staring at the shelves, Danny began mentally crossing out each one he knew wouldn’t work before picking up individual bottles and checking what they were meant for. It took a long time. He was only halfway through the search when he felt someone approaching.

            An older man in a suit of some sort (who goes grocery shopping in a suit?) stopped a few steps away, picking up a couple of cleaning products and placing them in his cart. He began to move away before stopping once more.

           “I noticed you seem unsure about the cleaning products. Perhaps I could be of assistance?” His tone was polite, but Danny felt a blush spread across his cheeks anyways. He was supposed to be a responsible adult, but he couldn’t even find a cleaning product correctly.

           Nodding appreciatively, Danny faced the man. “I need to get melted crayon out of a carpet and apparently my closet of cleaning supplies wasn’t prepared for that.”

          The man nodded. “That sounds like quite the mess.” He plucked a bottle from the shelf that Danny had yet to look at. “This will do the trick. Pour a generous amount onto the affected area, let it sit for fifteen minutes, then scrub it out, repeat, and rinse.”

          Danny grinned. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’m Danny.” He offered the man a hand.

          “Alfred Pennyworth, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

          They shook hands before Danny stepped away. “Well this is all I needed and I’ve gotta get back to take care of this as soon as possible. I really appreciate your help Mr. Pennyworth.”

          “I’m glad I could help you. Have an enjoyable evening, Mr. Danny.”

          And an enjoyable evening he had. Once he’d gotten back to the daycare, Danny managed to scrub out the stain (Thank you Mr. Pennyworth) until the carpet looked almost good as new and definitely not like blood had been spilled on it. Afterwards he made his way home with a bit more energy in his step than he was used to.

           Jazz had insisted on Danny having one of those large family calendars due to his crazy schedule and tonight being a Thursday night meant it was time to plan out the following weekend and week after. Things were generally the same every week- Daycare from seven thirty to six, Monday through Friday, the evenings were spent recharging, Saturdays he slept in and went to the Infinite Realms from eleven to eleven, Sunday mornings he got brunch with Jazz, Sunday nights was the group call with Tucker, Sam, Val, and Jazz, and then it repeated.

           But he hadn’t made it to the soup kitchen in a while and he had really enjoyed volunteering there while the daycare was under construction so tomorrow he was going to get up early, go to the Realms from six to six and make it back in time to help with the dinner crowd. He hadn’t seen the two brothers in a few weeks but there were few days he didn’t think about them.

~~~

            Mia was an incredibly helpful addition to the daycare and Danny thanked the Ancients she was so reliable. Although he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her entirely alone at any point throughout the day, he did get to take a few hours in the afternoon to get paperwork done in his office while she watched over the kids. On busier days he wouldn’t even do that. They had eight kids every day, guaranteed, but there were many families with less regular schedules that would drop their kids off once or twice a week and on those days, Danny wouldn’t leave Mia alone for even a moment.

            The best part about her was that she didn’t ask questions. She’d taken one look at Lunch Lady, paused, looked at the menu, nodded, and didn’t say a word. When Ember introduced herself Mia acted as though it were a completely normal situation, completely ignoring the green/gray skin and getting to work.

            She didn’t work the entire day, he couldn’t (and wouldn’t) ask her to stay for an almost twelve-hour shift. She came in around nine in the morning and left around three, taking Allegra with her. When he told her how much he’d be paying her she nearly had a heart attack, but working with children was a difficult and demanding job and he refused to underpay her for her work.

            “Hey boss, you looking for more help around here?” She asked in the middle of cleaning up for naptime on an unusually busy Friday afternoon.

            He dumped his armful of toys into the bin and pushed his hair out of his face. He really needed a haircut. “Yeah. Your help has been great, but I’m hoping to eventually have enough people here that I don’t have to actually be here all day every day anymore, you know?” She nodded thoughtfully. “You have someone in mind?”

            She wiped down the tables still covered in crumbs from snack time and took a moment before responding. “I have a friend who mentioned an interest. He doesn’t live around here but he’s a friend. I’ve known him a long time, he’s good people.”

            He shrugged. “Give him an application and I’ll look it over. And if you’ve got more friends like that, feel free to give them applications too. Like I said, I’m looking to hire quite a few people. Although, I’d like to hire people slowly, make sure everyone gets trained well and gets along before hiring another person.”

            She hummed in agreement and at the end of her shift took three application packets, stuffing them into Allegra’s backpack before picking the girl up and toting her away. Mrs. Reik was the last person to pick her son up that day and she ended up staying a bit to chat.

            “I can’t tell you how helpful your daycare has been for our family.” She started, a sentiment that many of the parents had conveyed to him many times. “I was wondering if you’d like to come by for dinner sometime, so we can properly thank you?” Her offer was shy, slightly guarded, but definitely genuine.

            He smiled, hoping to put her at ease. He’d been told that his smiles could be unnerving (too many teeth) so he channeled all the appreciation he could into this one while still keeping it small. “I would love to, Mrs. Reik.”

            “Oh please, call me Diane. Would next Friday work? My husband will be home all day with Tommy, and he makes a mean lasagna.”

            As long as his food didn’t come back to life, he wasn’t too picky about it. “That sounds great. The daycare is open until six, is seven all right?”

            “That’s perfect. Thank you again, Mr. Nightingale.”

            “Please, if I’m going to call you Diane, you can call me Danny.”

            Apparently, Jazz was right, making friends wasn’t so difficult. The formula was as easy as opening a free daycare, putting yourself out there, befriending every person you meet so they spread the word about you and your business, and working twelve hours a day five days a week chasing after energetic demons. Easy.

~~~

            The good part about being able to open portals to the Infinite Realms was that he didn’t need to wake up extra early to get to work. He rolled out of bed (which he’d actually made it to before taking one of his power naps, thank Ancients) at 6:02 in the morning, ripped open a portal, transformed, and BAM! He was at work.

            Stepping directly into his office (seriously he needed to get rid of a few offices how did he have so many?), he settled in for a few hours of paperwork before taking a break. He had quite a few requests to schedule a time to spar which he scheduled first- putting those off only meant his rogues would come find him and he didn’t want to explain to Gotham why he was fighting ghosts- before moving onto other matters.

            The Observants knew not to bother Danny in his office after an incident where Danny had refused to do work for a day for every disturbance he received. It was a three weeklong strike that finally ended in them leaving him alone and Danny eventually catching up on his paperwork.

            Three hours later he experienced a moment he thought he’d never see. There wasn’t any paperwork on his desk. He was free! Free! Standing up in the hopes to leave the Infinite Realms early, a pile of paperwork materialized in front of him.

            “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

            Collapsing back into his chair, Danny regretted every moment of his miserable life. He just had to stop Pariah from destroying the world, didn’t he? But guess what, Danny? No world, no paperwork! He could be nonexistent right now, oblivion, dead, but instead, he was half dead and one hundred percent responsible for copious amounts of paperwork.

            There would be no rest for the dead it seemed.

Prev. Next

[taz-skylar]

hi roh!

hope this week has been kind to you 😌 (despite all your finals) as a working adult (?) fumbling through the world, sometimes (most times) I really miss my school days hah

asdfghj I confess to not watching op *sweats* I briefly considered bingeing it to make your gift but when I googled the episode count, this was me: *insert homer simpson backing into bush meme*

I'm enjoying both of them! sxf was kinda slow the first few episodes, but I really enjoyed the tennis tournament ones. blue lock is absolutely amazing so far! I went into it knowing only that it was about football/ soccer so the first episode had me going ?????? omg is it that dramatic? 🤣 the additional time really had me laughing though, especially the recent one with kunigami crying ���� tbh I don't remember much of link click but I remember it keeping me on the edge of my seat, and whenever the first few notes of the ending song started playing I would go "ah yes here comes the cliffhanger ending"

your answers were so fun to read, especially the characters you relate to! if anyone ever asked me that question I would probably struggle to answer, but you have so many and that's so cool! you and moh sound like a chaos duo asdfgh but it's such a nice dynamic! my brother and I aren't that distant but we don't share similar interests and don't spend much time together, so we don't have a lot of things in common to talk about. increasingly the only time we interact is when we go on family trips which are becoming shorter and rare as the years go by 😔 you and moh sound close and I'm really envious about that!

and here's this week's questions: do you have any plans for the end of the year? do you have anything new you're looking forward to or want to try next year? could be an activity, a hobby, a place to go to, ...

- your animanga secret santa 🦖

finally finished all my exams so i’m just exhausted and finally got back home on monday night so i’m just catching up with my family and friends and on tv shows/movies that i missed while school was going on.

flkadfja i’m honoured that you even considered bingeing op for me 🤣 that’s hilarious and amazing !!! yeah, op is definitely the longest animanga series out there but i will say that it’s definitely worth the read/watch! and if you ever do, lmk and we can scream about it together bc i definitely feel like you’d enjoy it :D

yes, sxf was pretty slow in the beginning but i’m glad it’s picking up now ! the tennis tournament was absolutely wild and my sister and i had to keep pausing and rewatching certain scenes bc we couldn’t stop laughing (like when loid started dodging the bullets by swinging all over the place fjaldkfa). my favourite thing about blue lock is that, while all other sports animanga are like ‘there’s no i in team’ and everything, blue lock’s like fuck friendships, i’m winning this shit flkfjad the additional time bits are such a cute little add on, i love them all!! since i got super busy with school, i wasn’t able to get back into link clink but now that i’m home, i’m hoping i finally can (especially since i stopped on a two parter)!

faldfj i wanna know who you find yourself relating to now that you posed that challenge 🧐 that question was super fun, and initially i definitely struggled and had to go through my anime list bc i suddenly forgot every single character that i’ve ever seen fjaldkfja (also why i asked moh what she thinks which was a mistake, clearly)

yeah, moh and i are very chaotic. i think everyone who knows us can attest to that, our parents like to say that when we fight, we’re like cats so that’s fun 🤣 aww i honestly can’t imagine not being close to my twin sister or my brother. is there anything that you and your brother do enjoy doing together?? do you guys live close to one another? maybe starting with something small can bring you closer than you are?

answer for this week’s question: my plans for the end of the year consist of me being home with my family and friends for a bunch of parties since i haven’t seen them all for 4 months and eating all the homemade food my mom and dad can make bc i missed it so much 💙 i really want to explore the city i’m living in next year so hopefully school will calm down a bit and let me do that bc i’m only there for one year and i don’t want to just be sitting doing nothing but studying 😭

thanks for the ask!! love hearing from you, bud! 💙

[rhysismydaddy]

Prisoner's Game Pt. 2 (Rowaelin)

Part 1

~Rowan~

Rowan didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

The only time that even came close was when he lost his first and only court case, but over the years he'd come to live with that.

This though?

This immature, childish, irritatingly clever woman... he had a feeling he'd carry the rage he felt against her until the day he finally died of it.

Although, if he was honest, his returning move had been a little childish, too.

He'd ordered one of the guards to strip her cell of everything except the chess set. Her mattress, the makeshift knife he shuddered to think she'd had in the same room as him, her pillow.

If she wanted to steal his shit, he'd steal hers, too.

He'd also had the guard move one of his pawns forward on the board.

Not the most creative, but he didn't have many options.

What did you take from a woman who had nothing? How did you punish someone who was already serving the longest punishment available?

The bank had seized her assets when she'd been locked up, and the lease on her apartment had long since run out. She didn't have any personal items with her, didn't seem to even care about anything besides making his life hell.

Case in point, when he got home that night, exhausted from dealing with Aelin and spending a long day at the office, he'd discovered her retaliation.

She'd stolen his bed.

The whole goddamn thing, frame and all.

How she'd managed to get it out of a penthouse condo with security not realizing a thing, he had no idea. He knew from experience it wouldn't even fit through the door.

It'd seemed if she was going to be uncomfortable, so was he.

Steaming with anger, he'd showered and flopped on the couch like an idiot, not even able to sleep thanks to the rage she'd worked him into.

She was completely kicking his ass. From the inside of a jail cell.

He hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep before giving up on even trying. At six, he'd dressed and driven to Whitehorn and Salvaterre, the law firm he was a partner at.

If he couldn't sleep, he'd at least figure out how the hell she was pulling this shit off.

Looking through her folder, he went through her daily schedule, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Eight am wake-up, breakfast, shower, lunch, yard time, dinner, lights out at nine. Between activities, she worked out in her cell or read a book from the run-down prison library.

In the eight years she'd been in prison, she hadn't had a single visitor. Her cousin Aedion--a playboy Rowan couldn't be paid to associate with--delivered a care package on the first of every month.

Strange, considering nothing of the sort had been in her cell.

She'd been in solitary confinement ever since randomly attacking her cellmate a little over a month ago. She was still allowed yard time and meals with the other prisoners, but she was chained at all times.

Also strange, considering Aelin wasn't the type to do anything randomly.

Rowan watched the security tapes he'd strong armed the guards into giving him, going through the past few days to see how she'd gotten out of her cell to rob him.

He watched as she was escorted to the yard, watched as she ate breakfast and lunch and dinner alone, watched as she put herself through vigorous training in her cell.

Days of footage, and he didn't find anything.

Feeling like a bit of a creep, he watched the nighttime footage of her sleeping, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

She didn't move too much or too little--both of which would indicate it wasn't really her under that thin blanket. There were no attempts to pick the locks in between her wrists and ankles, no digging into the wall behind her toilet.

Nothing.

Which meant someone was helping her.

He could go through the official channels and ask the police for her known connections, but he hadn't reported either of the robberies yet.

Partly because he wanted to deal with her himself, partly because he felt a bit stupid getting robbed from a woman in the most secure prison in the city.

Which means he'd have to go about it a different way.

Grabbing his keys from his desk, he debated how else he could make her miserable, unfortunately finding nothing else he could do to her, no revenge he could get from robbing her tiny little cell.

No, he'd have to try something new.

Maybe he could bribe her into confessing. She didn't have anything right now, but maybe he could give her something to lose.

He'd bring her lunch, force himself to apologize for yelling at her, and just politely ask who her accomplice was.

He thought on it as he rode down the elevator to the garage. It probably wouldn't work, but he didn't know what else to do.

And besides, he knew from experience Aelin didn't respond well to his anger.

Checking his email to make sure he wasn't missing any important meetings, he pressed the button on his car fob, expecting to hear the resounding beep from his designated parking spot.

Except the beep never came.

Slowly looking up, Rowan had to amend his earlier statement.

Now he didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

He stormed over to the security booth, hardly refraining from grabbing the man inside and throwing him to the ground.

"Where's my car, Rolland?"

"In your spot, boss," the stout little man replied instantly and surely, snapping his gum and looking at him in confusion. "Haven't seen you drive out yet."

"Yes, exactly. Which is why it's a mystery why it's no longer in it's spot."

Rolland caught up slowly. "You mean... it was stolen? From here? From you?"

Jaw so tight his molars were practically fused together, Rowan growled, "Just let me see the security tapes from this morning."

The guard nodded quickly, eyes nervous as he typed something into the desktop in front of him.

"That's weird," he muttered a moment later, typing faster and sending Rowan a nervous glance.

"What?" he asked, trying to calm himself down with a few of the breathing techniques he'd learned over the years.

"The tapes are gone, but there's... this."

Rolland turned the screen so Rowan could see it, and all the breathing in the world couldn't keep him from slamming a fist into the side of the security shack.

The footage was gone, and on the blank black screen read: Bishop to J7.

He was going to fucking kill her.

~Aelin~

"Enjoy your taxi ride here?" she asked sweetly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.

Rowan scowled at her as he crossed the small room inmates could use to talk to their lawyers. He yanked the chair across from her out, then threw himself into it. "You are such a pain in my ass."

She just shrugged.

He sat across from her, angry and broody, and for a long time, he just stared at her.

Finally he asked, "Why are you doing this, Aelin?"

"I told you. You locked me up for something I didn't do. I want you to be as miserable as I am. It's simple, petty revenge."

Nothing about it was simple, but that was besides the point.

He was quiet for another moment. "Why now?"

She sighed, but she wasn't upset. Truthfully, she'd been waiting for him to ask that question.

"I want to tell you a story."

He stood up suddenly, face exasperated. "I'm not fucking joking around. And I'm not going to let you waste any more of my time."

He made his way to the door, and his dismissal of her pissed her off enough to say, "Sit down, or your car's going off Whigsby Bridge."

He smiled like he'd won their little game. "So you admit you have it."

"Sure," she said casually, honestly not giving a shit about the car.

His brow furrowed. "You're giving up? Just like that?"

"You're a fucking idiot if you think this is about your car, Rowan. But sure, I admit I know exactly where it, and your bed, and your little dagger are being hidden."

He narrowed his eyes. "This conversation is being recorded, and you just admitted to being an accessory to robbery, so-"

"You aren't going to press charges," she cut him off, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it.

Nasty little prison habit she'd developed, smoking.

Or maybe she just did it because she knew he hated the smell.

"Oh, really?" he asked incredulously, eyeing the cigarette with disdain.

She grinned. "Once you sit and hear my story and realize I'm telling the truth, you're going to feel so guilty you won't even care about the car. Now sit down. I'd hate to see a classic get totaled because you're being stubborn again."

He glared at her, but came back to the table and sat down again.

Then reached over and snatched the cigarette from her lips, putting it out against the steel table top.

She just pulled out another, lighting it with one of her last matches. The irritation on his face made it worth the loss.

He waved a hand as if to say Get on with it.

She'd debated how to tell him this story for a long time. It was long, and messy and not particularly pleasant for her. But she wanted him to know the full thing, so she'd decided to start at the very beginning.

"My parents died when I was four," she began, ignoring his dramatic sigh. "I went into foster care, and as you can imagine, I was a particularly unruly child."

She smiled at the few memories she had. "I stole from the nuns, snuck out of my room at night and ran through the house, set all the clocks back an hour so we could sleep in. Small stuff. But it irritated them, because they couldn't prove it was me."

"Sounds familiar," he grouched, making her grin.

"I was adopted by Arobynn Hamel a year later."

As she'd predicted, his mouth fell open at that.

Arobynn was the known king of the underworld in Rifthold. He had a hand in every aspect of crime, yet no one could do anything about it because he never committed the crime himself.

His name was revered, so much so no one ever dared to cross him.

"But your record says-"

"That I stayed in foster care until I turned eighteen, I know."

Arobynn hated public records and had a deal with someone in the system that he'd take some of the kids off their hands if they kept quiet about it. Illegal as hell, but he wasn't someone you refused without suffering serious consequences.

It was the perfect crime. No one would miss unwanted kids, and it gave the system one less mouth to feed.

"I didn't know it, but he'd been watching me for a while. He... I don't know, saw something in me. Natural, innocent talent he could work with and turn into something different. He adopted me on my fifth birthday. And then he started training me."

"To do what?" Rowan asked, shoulders tensing.

"Everything," she answered with a shaky laugh, taking a long drag from her cigarette. "Stuff I wanted to learn, like how to pick a lock or walk without making sound. But as I got older, he taught me other stuff. Stuff I didn't want to know."

"How to kill," he finished, picking up on her tone.

She nodded, finishing her cigarette and flicking the butt on the floor.

"I was good," she told him quietly, looking down at the table. "By the time I was fifteen, he said I was the best he'd ever had. None of his other... children could beat me in a fight, not even the older ones who had a hundred pounds on me. And I could steal anything and not leave a trace."

His eyes didn't show an ounce of doubt, and she didn't know how to feel about it. But she kept going anyway.

"I was his favorite. I was his best asset, and I didn't care about anything that would compromise me. I lost my parents, and despite how much he wanted me to, I never loved him. I had no weaknesses. Except Sam."

"Another of his students?" Rowan asked, and it wasn't lost on her he said students instead of children.

She nodded. "We were adopted around the same time, grew up together. He was a year older, and whenever I had a problem, he was the one I'd turn to. He was good to me, and by the time I was seventeen, not a small part of me loved him."

Aelin broke off and took a deep breath, wishing she had another cigarette and trying to figure out how to put into words how much he'd meant to her.

"Was?" Rowan asked, so softly and quietly and understandingly that she was reminded of the man he'd once been, the one she'd loved.

Shaking her head to clear it, she said, "He made a mistake. He went on a job; he was supposed to break into one of the underground casino's owned by Arobynn's competitor and memorize the ledger, but he got caught. It was messy and horrible and stupid, and the owner wanted blood. Arobynn promised he'd kill Sam as retribution."

Rowan's eyes widened, almost like he hadn't realized how brutally she'd been raised until that moment.

"I begged him not to. Sam had saved me and helped me so many times that I couldn't not do the same for him. I told him I'd do anything."

She studied her hands, regret and guilt thick on her skin. "Arobynn said if I took ten of the jobs Sam was supposed to do, he wouldn't kill him. I thought they'd be similar to the one he'd messed up on, small break-ins or robberies. So I accepted."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she batted it away as she continued, "The second I shook his hand, Tern--another of Arobynn's--shot Sam in the head."

Rowan's face blanched so quickly, she thought he might pass out.

He started to say something, but she spoke faster. "I... snapped. I killed Tern, tried to kill Arobynn. You called me a murderer, and that's true. I am, and I don't regret it. Tern was a sadistic bastard, and I'm glad he's dead. And one day, I'll kill Arobynn for what he did."

Rowan shook his head, confusion and shock and something similar to pity in his eyes. "Why didn't you leave, run away?"

She leveled a look at him. "I didn't exactly have a choice, Rowan. My punishment for Tern lasted for over a year."

There was a long pause.

"Punishment?" he asked in a breathless voice that made something in her chest hurt.

She looked at the table again, skin pebbling at the memory of that year. "He locked me in a cell in the basement, in the dark. Once a month he'd come in to ask if I knew someone named Sam. It took me ten months to get confused, another three to say no."

Still not meeting his eyes, she looked at his hands, noticing they were clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. And a part of her, buried under all the rage and resentment and sadness, warmed at the thought that he was... he was angry for her.

"It took me a long time after to figure out what was real and what wasn't. But Arobynn never let me forget our deal. And right before I met you, he told me the first job."

"What were the jobs?"

Aelin looked back up at that, the air thick between them as she said, "You already know."

"The murders."

She nodded, somehow managing to keep her spine straight despite the feeling of a hundred pound weight being lifted from her shoulders.

He at least knows why now, she thought to herself.

It was one of the things that had bothered her over the years. That he didn't know why she'd done what he thought she'd done. That he thought she'd.. wanted to do it.

He was silent for a long time, just watching her with a carefully emotionless face. "Thank you for telling me that," he said eventually. "I never could understand why."

Then he stood and walked to the door again, and it was only when his hand was on the handle she spoke again. "You asked why I'm doing this, and why I'm doing it now."

He opened the door but paused. Waited.

"It's because I tried to tell you this all those years ago, and you didn't care. You just assumed I was guilty because the evidence looked like it."

She spoke around the lump in her throat. "I told you I didn't kill those people, Rowan, and you didn't even care."

He spun around, slamming the door so hard it rattled, and in a split second, he was in front of her. A hand on the table, the other on her chair, he leaned down and got in her face.

He was so angry, so unbelievably enraged she couldn't believe it. He was angry?

"I didn't care? I didn't fucking care, that's what you think? Watching you get dragged away in cuffs was the worst moment of my life, and you think I didn't fucking care?"

Shock hit her like a bucket of ice water.

That moment was crystal clear in her mind, and she couldn't put what he was saying with what she knew.

He'd watched her with that same expressionless face, with cold eyes that had haunted her ever since.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he wasn't done.

"I fucked loved you! I thought you were the love of my life, Aelin. I begged you to tell me something that would help, tell me anything. But you didn't! You just kept saying you were innocent; you didn't give me anything to actually work with."

"I-"

"I found that stupid fucking list five days before I reported it, did you know that?"

She shook her head, because she hadn't.

"Exactly. You don't know what the hell you're talking about," he growled, eyes flashing. "I spent five days investigating it myself, trying to make sense of why you'd know those names. After your arrest, I spent two weeks trying to find anything, a single piece of evidence, that said it wasn't you. And after the trial, I spent another two months trying to poke holes in my own goddamn case."

He slammed a hand into the table. "I did everything I fucking could! I was desperate for it not to be you. I argued my case so your lawyer could plead circumstantial evidence. I put you on the stand so you could say anything you wanted. I went for life sentences instead of the death penalty to give you time to actually tell me what the hell was going on!"

She was breathing heavily, heart breaking and reforming over and over again at what he was saying, what he was implying.

"I didn't assume shit," he said in a low voice, so close they shared air. "You didn't tell me anything."

Aelin's voice trembled as she croaked, "I tried."

He shook his head, letting out a breath of amusement. "No, you didn't. If this past week has proven anything, it's that you don't try to do anything, you do it. You didn't tell me anything, Aelin. You're still not telling me anything."

"I'm telling you to look again! I'm telling you you didn't look hard enough, because I left breadcrumbs only you could find, breadcrumbs that explain everything."

"Stop playing games with me!" he shouted, eyes flashing with a fresh wave of anger. "It's been eight years! Stop holding onto whatever secret you're holding onto and just tell me!"

Gods, she wanted to.

He was the one person she couldn't trust with this secret, this stupid, most important secret, and yet he was the also the one person she wanted to tell it to.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but what came out was, "I didn't kill them, Rowan. I promise I didn't kill them. I can't... I can't tell you anything else."

"Jesus, Aelin," he spat, pushing off the table and turning to leave.

"Just look into it," she called after him, fingers digging into the table to resist the urge to try and follow him. "I promise you can figure everything out, and you'll understand everything. Please."

She knew why, after all this time, it was so important for him to know the truth when that hadn't been her original plan.

It was because she'd spent eight years believing he hadn't tried, believing she hadn't been a good enough person for him to even look into the possibility it wasn't her.

And maybe it was because he was once again leaving her, or maybe it was because she felt like she was in that courtroom again, begging him to believe her, or maybe it was because of something she didn't even understand yet.

Regardless of the reason, she found herself saying, "I loved you, too, you know."

He looked at her with sad eyes that she was sure mirrored her own and shook his head. "Not enough, apparently."

"You don't believe that," she argued, shaking her head and trying to keep the building emotions down.

"If you'd loved me, you would've told me. You would've given me the proof, whatever breadcrumbs you're talking about. You wouldn't have let me watch them take you away."

"Rowan-"

"You wouldn't have thought, for a second, that I didn't try to fight for you. And you sure as hell wouldn't have waited eight years to do whatever it is you're trying to do."

"I had to," she whispered, even as she knew it wouldn't be enough.

She shook with the effort to not tell him everything, but even after all he'd told her and how everything had changed, she just couldn't. Not yet.

He stood at the door, watching her with those eyes she'd once thought looked like the most beautiful emeralds. "Sometimes I think about it, you know. What life would be like if I hadn't tried to fix your sink in the middle of the night."

She smiled sadly. "Me too."

Rowan shook his head, gaze taking in her face like he thought he'd never see her again.

He thought it was over now, she realized. He thought that now she knew he hadn't given up on her immediately, now that she'd told him the story she'd wanted to tell him, that it was over and she'd give up.

"Look again," she whispered. "You know I didn't do it. It's why you're here, why you kept looking after the trial ended. You know I wouldn't."

"Goodbye, Aelin," he said instead, not telling her any of the things she really wanted to hear.

It wasn't until the door shut behind him she finally let herself cry.

She'd told herself that it didn't matter; that in a month the truth would come out and everything would be normal again.

She'd told herself she was only messing with Rowan for revenge, not because she wanted to see him again or test that he'd find the clues she'd left for him.

She'd told herself this was just a game.

She'd told herself all sorts of things that turned out to be lies.

~~~

Part 3

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[pochiperpe90]

[L’Officiel Hommes] Luca Marinelli, rising star of Italian cinema

To win his first film role, Luca Marinelli agreed to put on sixteen kilos. For the second, he had to shave his whole body and learn to walk in heels more than eight inches high.

"If I believe in the part, there is nothing I'm not willing to do," says the twenty-six-year-old protagonist of ‘The Solitude of Prime Numbers’, the film by Saverio Costanzo presented at last year's edition of the Venice Film Festival.

To play the role of a boy devoured by guilt due to an accident that happened to his sister, Marinelli did not hesitate to ruin his athletic physique by gorging himself on fats and carbohydrates, and giving up any activity for three months. As soon as he could, he started running again to lose the extra pounds. Between football and swimming he has always been used to playing sports. But the forced immobility had atrophied his muscles, and at the end of the first runs he ended up vomiting his soul from the effort. After a month of intense exercise, however, he had already lost the extra pounds.

"Changing your body makes you feel more vulnerable and you become prey to irrational fears: when I was fat I was afraid of dying every time I took the stairs, when I was hairless I was afraid that my eyebrows would never grow back," says the actor while he eats a salad sitting at the bar of the Palazzo della Triennale in Milan. "But it's always a very interesting experience", he continues, absently stroking the hairs on his forearm, still growing since the end of the shooting of “L’ultimo terrestre”, a film that will be released next year by Gipi, an Italian illustrator making his debut behind the movie camera. It’s a love story set against the backdrop of an invasion of extraterrestrials, in which Marinelli plays the role of a transvestite friend of the protagonist. To prepare for the part, the actor watched dozens of crossdresser and transgender footage and had to practice for hours walking with extravagant stilts instead of shoes.

“I was told that, as a woman, I move well and I'm quite beautiful. In short, the experience gave me a certain satisfaction”, he jokes, winking with gray-blue eyes.

Compared to the film debut of ‘Solitude of Prime Numbers’, this new film offers him a smaller role and visibility. But Marinelli is not concerned about this. He knows he was very lucky to end on the red carpet of one of the most important festivals in the world with the first film. And he would almost feel calmer if his career were to continue more gradually.

"It was so lightning fast that I was not prepared. Venice was a wonderful experience but I was in panic. In the evening I came home with a terrible headache, I felt like I had two tight screws in my skull. I almost felt at fault to start out so great. And now I'm happy to start again slowly”.

Marinelli finished high school in 2006 and three years later graduated from the Silvio D'Amico Academy of Dramatic Art in Rome. Before being chosen by Costanzo for the feature film that gave him notoriety with the public, he had already played several roles in the theater with directors such as Carlo Cecchi and Michele Monetta. His father, actor and film voice actor, tried to introduce him to the world of entertainment as a child, without achieving great results. He had made him voice the voices of Tip and Tap, the grandchildren of Mickey Mouse from the cartoons, and had offered him some amateur roles. Despite being fascinated by the profession, however, the son didn’t feel cut out to be an actor.

“As a child I was shy. I liked being the center of attention, but only with people I had a lot of confidence with. More than being observed, I was interested in observing the lives of others. Not the present ones, but the past ones”.

After high school, Marinelli enrolled in the faculty of archeology in Rome. But after two months in which he attended only lessons that had nothing to do with his course, he realized that the university wasn’t for him and threw himself into acting, overcoming the fears he carried within him since he was a child. Even today, however, it retains some of that shyness. To the point that, whenever he is about to go on stage, he has to resort to small exorcising rites to reduce tension and cancel thoughts. And when we ask him how it feels to tell a complete stranger about himself, he confesses to being a little nervous.

"This is my second interview. From the first, I came out as some kind of psycho. I hope this time it goes better”, he jokes.

He has pain in his neck from a fall that occurred a few days earlier and moves his torso in a slightly stiffly way. He jumped on the ball and crashed to the ground during a game of "calciotto", the eight-a-side football that is popular in Rome, the city where he was born and raised. Every time he turns his head he makes a grimace of pain. Apart from that, Marinelli seems to be quite at ease, and does not resort to clichés. Nor does he try to hide behind sophisticated characters: he wears a blue shirt, military green trousers and brown jacket, in a style that he simply defines "for men", made up of garments unearthed among vintage shops and thrift stalls rather than in the boutiques of the big names. He loves to run around with his bike, although he admits that the longest trip he has done was from Rome to Fregene with a friend. And as soon as he has a free moment he takes his dog Nonò, a foundling dachshund who also follows him on tour, and takes him around the capital for long walks in the company of Sandy, the dog who lives in his parents' house.

Even though he’s aware of the difficulties and uncertainties he risks facing in his profession, he speaks of his dreams with passion and without anguish. He would like to pursue a project as a director and is enthusiastic about the collaboration with Cecchi in “Sogno di una notte di mezza estate”, a piece with which he will tour Italy between November and February.

"I know that being an actor is a job with a very high risk of failure and depression, but for the moment I try to live this lucky moment to the fullest."

Marinelli is not religious, but he’s particularly fascinated by the figure of Christ. He loves reading books and watching films that tell the Nazarene in his human dimension (from the Gospel according to Matthew by Pasolini to Scorsese's Last Temptation of Christ), because when he sees a miracle he feels the "smell of burning" and is immediately distracted.

"The story of Jesus, understood as a simple person, is a proof of the wonderful things that man is capable of. And studying it helps to understand how far we live from the example that has been given to us".

Among the dreams in the drawer, remains to work with Eimuntas Nekrošius, the Lithuanian theater director who recently staged Albert Camus' Caligula in Rome. And with Pedro Almodovar, the master of Spanish cinema whose language he knows well. In fact, Marinelli's father spent his childhood in Argentina and passed on to his son his love for Spanish, which Luca speaks with a slight South American inflection.

Of course, the situation in Italy for novice actors is not reassuring. Most of his fellow academics are still looking for work. The lucky ones earn a few euros by acting in the theater or making fiction which is exhausting for the body and demoralizing for the spirit. The others are making a living with alternative uses waiting to be discovered.

“I'm working, but not because I'm the best of those who came out of my class. Luck matters a lot. In Italy the environment is closed and there is little money. Abroad, however, it seems that this art is much more accessible".

His response is interrupted by a strange sigh that sounds like a whale song. It’s the ringtone of his cell phone, a reconstruction of the original music used in the Greek tragedy. Marinelli doesn’t respond, but begins to show signs of unease. He noted that the Palazzo della Triennale hosts an exhibition of Pasolini's portraits that he would like to see. He has little time left, but he adores the poet and insists on entering.

Inside the exhibition, observe the black and white photos taken by Dino Pedriali in 1975 which show the artist reading in his villa in Chia, writing on an Olivetti 22 and walking on a bridge in Sabaudia with his hair down from the wind. Then he stops in front of a photo of Pasolini naked, portrayed in his bedroom.

"What a fascinating man, in this image he reminds me of the bad lieutenant in Abel Ferrara's film," he says as he heads towards the exit. Then, unexpectedly, he turns to his interviewer and asks him with the relieved tone of someone who knows he has completed a business: "Prof, how did the exam go?".

“I'd give you a nice twenty-eight”, we reply according to the game.

"Okay, I accept it".

L’Officiel Hommes

Just wanted to translate this old interview for the non-italian’s fans ^^ (sorry for my English)  

[artaefact]

bakery 1995.

—wordcount: 14.7k+

—genre: angst, fluff, romance, baker!jimin, bakery cafe au, childhood friends-to-lovers au

—pairing: park jimin x f reader ft. bestfriend!jungkook

—rating: pg-15

—warnings: age gap (jimin is 4-5 years older), brief mention of physical assault, memory loss, overprotective parents, some intended grammatical mistakes, swearings, y/n is dragged into jungkook’s shenanigans

—summary: After returning from college for summer break, you got yourself a part time job to keep yourself busy. However, things go way too unexpectedly and you find yourself unraveling your forgotten past.

author’s note: this is for @btswritingcafe promptly yours event !! i tweaked the prompt a bit, so hopefully no one would get confused! happy reading ♡

Prompt: “Person A once had a major childhood crush on Person B. Fast forward to college where Person A is convinced it was nothing but temporary, that is until they return home for summer break to find Person B back after being gone for several years. Turns out, they weren’t such temporary feelings.”

© artaefact/eunoiabliss 2020. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is NOT permitted.

It’s nice to know that no matter how judgemental the world can be, pigeons would never judge you. Despite the clear contrast between yourself and the asphalt pathway, they would not hesitate to excrete waste on either of them and can’t even be bothered by the possible consequences.

Staring at the dropping on your jacket sleeve, you exhale loudly while rummaging your pocket for a kleenex.

��Out of all the places where their shit could have landed on, it had to be MY jacket,’ you grumble to yourself.

Reaching towards the bakery in the area, you hope they still have some cinnamon rolls you have been craving for. You can already imagine yourself humming in delight as the sweetness spreads across your taste buds and—

“You have got to be kidding me.”

The cashier attendee bows apologetically at you. “We’re so sorry, all the cinnamon rolls are sold out for today.”

Today must be the worst day to date in your entire years of existence. How on earth can a bakery run out of cinnamon rolls?

Groaning internally, you trudge out of the, now, third bakery that has sold out their cinnamon rolls.

Bad luck seems to follow you throughout the day. Is it because you went out of the house while your parents were in the middle of nagging you? For the last few days after you came back home for summer break, they have been constantly nagging you and you would kill to have an hour of peace and quiet.

Mindlessly, you whip up your phone and search up on Google while you walk to the nearby bus station, typing in the search bar — is it bad luck if a bird pooped on you?

Biting your lower lip, you press on the first link that appears on the screen.

Bird poop may be a sign of hope in disguise, you read. Snorting in incredulity, you scroll through the webpage.

It can’t be good luck.

You are not the type to believe in superstitions, however, besides getting pooped on, you dropped your phone on the pavement of the sidewalk just before you reached the first bakery, an hour ago. This resulted in the annoying crack of the screen right in the middle of it. Not only that, the sole of your right tennis shoes came off halfway which hindered you from walking properly and made you look like someone who hurt their leg.

Having had enough for today, you decide to go back home. Until a pastel pink store, right across the street, catches your attention with its aesthetic-looking door.

What’s this? A new—

A dramatic gasp escapes your lips after reading the name of the store, earning confused stares from nearby people. But you couldn’t care less.

Maybe Lady Luck does still care about you.

As soon as the pedestrian light turns green, you excitedly run, no, shuffle through the zebra-cross, reaching the newly-opened bakery.

My last hope is here. Please, let there be—

The interior of the bakery exudes a welcoming vibe, with the color of pale pink being the dominant over the whole place. Basically, it's a place where those Instagram models would kill to take their pictures at. However, it’s not the interior itself that your focus locks on. When the smell of freshly baked goods wafts into your nose, your eyes zero themselves on the various types of pastries that line the display counter, covered in glass domes. And there it is.

“Yes!” You squeal, grabbing the bakery tray to fill it as much as you’d like.

When you place the filled tray in the cash register counter, the cashier comments, “Woah, that’s a lot.”

If it is a normal day, you would have waved it off. However, unfortunately for the guy, it isn’t a normal day for you, after the constant annoying incidents that happened to you earlier. The comment snaps the last thread of patience you have for the day and sadly, targets the person in front of you. “I think you should mind your own—”

You take your thoughts back. Lady Luck is not on your side nor is the universe. They must be having fun, playing pranks on you so much today.

Your words cease immediately at his sheepish yet attractive smile.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “Just having a really bad day and I—”

“No! That’s okay.” The guy grins at you, eyes turning into crescent moons. “I’m the one who should be sorry, I just said the first thing that came up in my mind.”

“Ah...”

“I suck at starting conversations,” he says, sheepishly. “It’s a skill I’m planning to improve.”

Blinking twice, you manage to smile back at him, most probably just a cringed expression. “Well, um, good luck with that.”

As soon as he hands you the paper bag, you dash out of the bakery, not once looking back.

Your cheeks feel hot during the whole trip back home, every time you remember what happened, you would mentally kick yourself.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Eating the warm cinnamon rolls is a blessing and a curse.

You have never tasted such heavenly flavour before, all your worries and exhaustion seem to fade away. This brings you to freeze in the realisation that you’ll want, no, need to go back to that bakery to buy those delicious rolls again. Meaning, you’ll see that cute guy whom you snapped at earlier, again.

His friendly eye-smile burns deep in your mind. But you can’t shrug off the sense of familiarity of his face and his voice…

Have I met him before?

Once you reach home, body aching and tired, you take a quick shower before digging into the rolls. Clicking your tongue, you continue to munch on the rolls in your room while your thoughts pull you in deep.

The sudden knock on your door, however, brings you back to the present. Groaning loudly, you stand up from your padded window seat.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Jungkook.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Your mouth agape at the sudden visit from your best friend. “Didn’t you say you won’t see me at all until break is over?”

“I might have changed my mind. I was very bored at home.” He enters your room, plopping on your beanbag. “So, now I am bored as hell and— Did you buy food without telling me?”

You met him during freshman year and you both hit it off quite quickly, you might add. After constantly pairing up together in projects, college project meetups gradually turned into hangouts.

“Says the one who claims to see my face every day makes him sick.” You roll your eyes at his dramatic ass, you go back to the window seat, crossing your legs. “It wasn’t planned, okay? I just got back home like thirty minutes ago.”

“But still you nearly finished everything without leaving me much!” He bit your last half-finished roll, letting out a noise of approval. “Which bakery did you buy it from?”

“It’s a new one. I never saw it before we went to college.”

“You should bring me there soon.”

“Nu-uh,” you refuse. “You can go yourself. I am not stepping a foot inside that place any longer.”

“What? Why not?”

“I may have embarrassed myself in front of the worker there.” Then you tell him what happened earlier.

Jungkook shakes his head in pity. “My poor Y/N, how do you always embarrass yourself when I’m not around? How would you survive in this world without me?”

Snorting at his words, you lean against the pillows on your back. “You’re the lucky one to have someone like me as his best friend. Anyways, how about that job I’m looking for?”

“Oh!” Jungkook’s eyes lit up. “Right, I was about to tell you! My friend is looking for a part-timer for his cafe.”

“Hmm, that sounds…”

Jungkook answers, “Boring? I know you’re looking for something much more exciting and—”

Narrowing your stare at Jungkook’s obvious judgmental face, you cut him off. “It sounds perfect, actually.”

Sighing, Jungkook whips up his phone. “You better bring me leftovers every time you get off work. I’ll bring you to his cafe tomorrow.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“What? Why?”

“You little shit—” You smack his arm.

“Ow! Stop that, woman! I thought you said—”

“This is a fucking bakery, dumbass!” You hiss at him.

Jungkook gapes at you. “It’s a bakery cafe, what’s the difference?”

“It’s different! I can’t go back in there!” You whine in embarrassment.

“Wait— So this is the bakery where you embarrassed yourself?”

Nodding wordlessly, you exhale before catching Jungkook failing to stifle his laughter. “Shouldn’t be too big of a problem. He’s nice, Y/N.”

“But—”

“And I told him you were coming…” Jungkook scratches the back of his head.

After contemplating for a while, you decided to gather your courage and enter the sweet-smelling bakery with Jungkook.

Too late to go back now. It was either this or staying bored at home for the rest of the summer break, facing your parents’ look of disapproval at your lack of daily activities, or to be more exact productivity.

The cute guy just finished placing cakes inside the glass displays on the counter, then his gaze shifts to where you and Jungkook are standing.

“Jungkook!” The cute guy’s brown hair is slicked back as he takes off his baker’s hat, approaching your best friend.

“It’s been so long, Hyung!” Jungkook greets back with a hug, smiling from ear to ear. “And wow—” His eyes skim through the pastel-themed cafe. “You finally opened your own cafe.”

Watching them interacting is a foreign sight to you. It’s a rare right to see Jungkook, the usually shy one, so friendly and comfortable around the cute guy.

If you’re lucky enough, maybe the cute guy won’t remember you and—

“Ah! Miss Cinnamon Rolls!”

Scratch that. Of course, he still remembers you.

“I didn’t know you were looking for a job.” His eye smile lands on you finally and your throat dries up.

Jungkook fails to hold back his laughter. “Miss Cinnamon Rolls? Just how much did you buy last time?”

After sending a brief glare at your best friend, you introduce yourself to the cute guy, “Y/N.”

As soon as your name slips past your lips, the cute guy freezes momentarily, eyes widening a fraction. “Y/N?”

You nod slowly.

“Uh,” He fumbles. “Jimin. Park Jimin.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“So, this is the kitchen area. We need to get the place ready by 8:30. Can you come by at 6 the latest?”

You nod at his question.

“We have a different menu each day. It will take some time for you to learn everything. But don’t worry I’ll teach everything you need to know.” He shoots you a smile, sending your heart to slightly flutter as you fiddle with your fingers.

Thank goodness Jungkook has left. Or else you’d never hear the end of his teasing or knowing smirk.

“I’m starting with bread and cakes these past few days before I open up the cafe section.”

For the rest of the day, Jimin spends his time letting you know everything about how the bakery runs whenever there are no customers. Even gracing you with two pieces of freshly-baked cinnamon rolls which made your cheeks burn in embarrassment at the memory of your first encounter.

“Go ahead, enjoy it,” Jimin shoots you a knowing grin.

Muttering a quiet ‘okay’, you take the first bite — holding a delighted groan at the sweetness that bursts through your tastebuds.

Propping his chin on his hand, he stares at you in amusement. “You must really like cinnamon rolls, huh?”

“They’re my comfort food,” you admit after swallowing down a piece. “My late grandmother used to make a lot of rolls at home.”

“I see… Well, have you ever baked before, Y/N?”

“The basic stuff like chocolate chip cookies…”

“Oh, that’s great—”

You added quickly, “But I nearly burned down Jungkook’s kitchen, though. He banned me from the kitchen ever since.”

A surprised laugh escapes the man’s lips which you don’t mind hearing more often, especially if you are the one behind it.

“At least the cookies still turned out great. It was a bit on the burnt side but still good… Crispy and crunchy.” You nervously chuckle. “But I swear, I’m not that bad if you provide a clear recipe!”

Still giggling, Jimin leans forward on his seat. “I can teach you everything you need to know. The basic stuff on baking and then there would be clear recipes I can provide you.”

Your eyes lighten up at that. “Yes! I’ll try my best.”

Arriving at the bakery at 6 am sharp, the next day — your official first day at work — Jimin can be seen moving back and forth from the small window opening connecting the kitchen and the bakery itself, already busy in the kitchen.

The smell of his work wafts through the entire bakery, indicating that he has been there for quite some time. Once you enter the kitchen, your mouth waters instinctively at the smell and sight of freshly-baked breads on the counter.

“How can I help?” From observing the finished baked goods, your eyes shift curiously at some ingredients — eggs, chocolate chips, sugar, flour — on the kitchen counter while you tighten the knot of your apron.

“You’re going to bake some chocolate chip cookies.” Jimin places a tray full of another different set of bread near the first one through the window. “So, go ahead, preheat the oven first.”

Following his instruction, you move towards one of the ovens. “Um…”

The corner of his lips quirks up at your obvious confusion before he chimes on how hot the oven should be set on.

With a brief nod, you turn on the oven. “Is this a test to see how far my baking skills go?” When you take a glimpse of the honey-haired man, he returns it with an amused grin of his own.

“Bingo.” Jimin’s smile is boyish and carefree and his eyes become crescent moons.

In other words, it made your heart race. However, you dismiss such unprofessional thoughts quickly before blood rises to your cheeks.

Clearing your throat, you move to the counter and start mixing the necessary ingredients altogether and set the dough on the baking tray. When the oven is preheated, you bring the tray towards it only to realise your mistake too late: not opening the oven first.

“Let me help,” Jimin says softly, opening the oven deftly.

“T-Thanks...” you mumble, concentrating on the task at hand.

Time passes quickly, before you know it, the oven makes a soft ‘ting’ sound. Opening it, the sweet smell wafts through the kitchen.

“I did it!” you say, excitedly placing the hot tray on the marble counter.

“But the final test is how the cookies taste.”

You watch in nervous anticipation as Jimin pops one of the cookies into his mouth. Not a moment later, he lets out a surprised sound.

“This is really good, Y/N. You do have the talent to bake.”

You beam at his words.

“Since that’s all set, I believe we still have other kinds of pastries to prepare for the day. I have all the recipes prepared for you here.” He motions to the notebook on the counter — you flip through it, astonished at all the recipes.

“Are these your own personalised recipes?”

Nodding, Jimin shoots you a grin. “I’ve always loved baking and there are some ways to make things with their own unique taste.”

The rest of the upcoming hour, you and Jimin were busy baking with Jimin instructing and giving you pointers. At some point, you even talked about anything and everything, as if you both have known each other all your life while you both work.

You have to admit, you find it really enjoyable. When the bakery closes, you sit quietly on one of the empty tables near the cashier after Jimin tells you to wait.

Mindlessly flipping through his recipe notebook, your attention soon shifts to Jimin himself with a steaming cup in his hold.

“Here.” He sets the cup in front of you.

You look at him quizzically before he motions for you to try.

“I’m opening the cafe part next week,” Jimin says. “Thought you can be the first to judge my caramel macchiato.”

“That’s a lot of caramel in one drink…” For a few moments, you observe the steaming coffee, froth decorates the top of it with drizzles of caramel in patterns of criss-cross nearly covering most of the foam itself. “Why caramel macchiato, though?”

“I thought you’d—” He clears his throat. “So many people really love caramel macchiato. So, I thought I’d go with this one for you to try first.”

Bringing the cup carefully to your lips, you take a sip of the beverage. The texture of the coffee is so smooth and the slight bitterness spreads through your taste buds and down your throat. Then you taste the caramel, letting out a delighted surprise when you find caramel bits inside the beverage.

Jimin keeps his stare on you, one hand supporting his chin and his eyes unreadable.

“What is it?” You ask, after downing the drink.

He blinks as if he was lost in his own thoughts. “Uh, how is it?”

“It’s very good.”

“Do you like coffee?” He asks.

Nodding, you tell him you loved to steal your mom’s coffee when you were younger. “There used to be a cafe near my place. I used to go there frequently during my high school years.”

Jimin briefly stills at yours words. “Do you... Still go there?”

You shake your head. “It was closed two years ago unfortunately.”

“Hmm, that’s a shame. I would’ve wanted to try the coffee there.”

Chuckling at his words, your mind takes you back to your high school days. “It was really good.”

Humming to yourself, you continue to flip through the pages of Jimin’s recipe notebook. “What’s this?” You stop at one page, pointing at a child’s drawing on his recipe notebook. “Did you draw it when you were younger?”

“It’s a shooting star.” Jimin answers. “And, no. I didn’t.”

“Oh? Sister? Brother?”

“I don’t have a sister and my brother just does not have the artistic skill to draw that,” he laughs. “It was someone from my past. Someone who is precious to me.”

“Oh…” Noticing his faraway gaze on the notebook, you sense it is a sensitive topic. “Why a shooting star though?”

“It represents hopes and wishes, according to her.” His smile turns nostalgic. “I was having a hard time back then. But this girl,” he chuckles as if in disbelief. “— just straight up grabbed my notebook and drew a shooting star on it, saying I should wish on this star since seeing a shooting star is not that common here.”

There’s something sad but warm in Jimin’s tone as he talks about this girl. You can only assume that this girl is not in his life anymore. Or even in this world.

“I see…”

“As ridiculous as it sounds, I actually did it. Very frequently in all honesty. Whenever I’m having a hard time, I’d wish upon that star.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

A week passes quickly and just like a normal day, you arrive back home just a quarter past eight. Tugging off your shoes near the doorway, you hear your dad calling from the living room.

“Yes?” Mindlessly, you step into the living room only to meet the stern glare from him.

“Where were you?” Your dad asks. “Do you have any idea what time it is now?”

“It’s around eight...”

“And your curfew?”

Furrowing your brows, you gape, “I thought that was back in high school.”

“That still applies until now. I expect you to come back before seven.” Then he repeats his question, “Where were you?”

“From my new part-time place.” You answer. “I thought I told you about it.”

“If you want a job, you can intern in the company for the summer,” your dad sighs. “There’s no need for part-time jobs.”

You should have known it would last just three days before you are missing your university life, or to be more specific living alone. With the constant nagging from your parents, you crave for silence for a period of time. One thing you have been missing quite badly you have to admit, which is why you took the job in the bakery. Away from the scrutinising stares of your parents.

Here it goes again.

“I don’t think I’m ready to start there, Dad,” you exhale. “I want to do other things while I can.”

The same topic, the same debate you’d try to avoid as much as possible ever since you arrived back home for the summer. That was why you’d try to find something else to do. You always wanted to try a new hobby over the holidays. Now, with the excess amount of time in your hands, you are able to try.

That is why you opt for the part time job Jungkook found — working in the bakery.

“This isn’t going to work if you get home after your curfew, Y/N. You know how dangerous it is if you come home late.”

“I’m an adult now,” you reply, exasperatedly. “I can take care—”

“Things can get unpredictable, Y/N. It’s better that you’re safe than sorry.”

“Dad, when will you stop reminding me of that?” You groan in annoyance. “I don’t even remember how the accident happened.”

“The more reason for you to be cautious!”

Exasperated, you storm up to your room and carelessly throw your bag on the side of your bed. Laying on your back, you stare at the ceiling as your thoughts muddle when you try to think of what happened.

All you remember back then is that you woke up in the hospital, met with the worried gaze of your parents as soon as you got your consciousness back. However, they never tell or fill you in on what happened.

Gradually, your eyelids grow heavier — exhausted from the day and the burst of negative emotions over the argument you had earlier. Thus, you succumb to sleep. However, your mind takes you elsewhere.

Everything is dark.

With your own ragged breathing, you struggle to keep yourself as quiet as possible, biting down a hiss from the sting of your scraped knees. Tears pool in your eyes as you wait, hidden behind one of the playground’s slides and out of sight of any possible passerby.

There are no memories of what happened beforehand. All you know is to stay there and wait.

“Y/N?”

Peeking out of your hiding place, the figure draws closer calling your name in another hushed whisper.

But you knew this voice. So, you whispered back, “Here...” As soon as you get out of your hiding place, a warm embrace envelops your small frame.

“We’re okay, everything’s okay. I’ve lost them. We’re safe now,” he whispers, stroking your head softly while your fists clench on his shirt.

Not a moment later, your tears start to fall and you sob into his shirt. He tightens his hold on you, one hand on the back of your head as he repeatedly whispers, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“I’m here...” His voice then seems to echo and your surrounding becomes a blur.

When you open your eyes, you realise you’re back in your room yet there are stray tears in your eyes. Sitting up on your bed, you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

Was that a memory…?

“Have a good day.” You bid the last customer of the day farewell and once they leave, your cheeks droop into a frown. With a sigh, you walk out of the cashier register place towards the front door, turning the ‘Open’ plate to ‘Close’.

The dream you had last night still felt so vivid that you considered it was a flashback of your memory loss. You wanted to ask your parents about it. However, yesterday’s conflict was still fresh. You were sure they would dismiss it.

After cleaning up the counters of the bakery café and mopping the floors, you trudge into the break room, sitting down on one of its chairs as you wait for Jimin’s return from his “errand”.

Your mind takes you back to the dream where someone was hugging you tight.

Who was it? you wonder. In the back of your mind, somehow you never felt his warmth among your high school friends. The guy who was holding you is just different.

You are so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t realise Jimin entering until he brings something right in front of your face. “What—”

“Hot chocolate,” he answers, softly. “You seem distracted today, I thought this might cheer you up.”

Taking the steaming cup from him, you mutter your thanks before breathing in the sweet smell, blowing softly on the beverage. “That was fast.”

“Hmm?”

“Wait, did you go out to buy this?” You lift the warm cup of hot chocolate.

Jimin lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “I wanted to make you one. Until I realised that the ingredients are finished. So, I had to run out.”

“You didn’t have to, you know…”

“I know. But I wanted to anyway.”

Your eyes look down, can’t help feeling touched by his sweet gesture as you fight back to keep yourself from blushing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He must have noticed the change of your expression before he says quickly, “Only if you’re comfortable, of course! I just thought talking about what’s on your mind can ease you. At least a bit.”

Blinking your eyes twice, a chuckle escapes your lips. “I guess so.”

“That’s your first smile today.”

You raise a brow at him.

“Your first real smile, I mean. Your cheekbones do not have much tension if you’re genuinely happy whereas if you fake a smile, it seems more like you’re cringing. Like our first encounter.” He chuckles, meaningfully.

“I’m sorry...” you mumble, eyes glancing down at the steaming hot chocolate on your lap.

“That’s fine,” he says easily. “Everyone has their bad days.”

You smile slightly at his words. “Had a fight with my parents last night.”

Jimin stays quiet, still listening to you.

“They are always so protective when it comes to me. Maybe a bit too much at times. I’m a grown adult for fuck’s sake.” Another sigh escapes your lips before taking a sip of the hot chocolate. “My dad especially. He made it sound like a big deal when I came home around eight. I’m just frustrated at this.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

You nod in response.

“Was there something that made your dad feel that way?”

“I...” You blink. “I guess it’s because that one time I ended up in the hospital?”

“You did?”

You nod. “A few years ago, I had an accident.”

Jimin stiffens at your words. “Oh?”

“But it was nothing. I didn’t even remember what happened in all honesty.”

He stutters, “W-What?”

“I lost my memories. I had no recall of the accident at all.” Eyes training blankly on your front, focusing on nothing as you dive back into your memories. “My parents told me there is nothing to worry about and my memories would come back gradually. They never filled me in on what happened too.”

The corner of his lips soon quirks up slightly, his expression wistful. “Maybe they wouldn’t want you to be traumatised by what happened. It’s already fortunate enough for you to be able to recover from your head injury.”

“Yeah... I guess so,” you mumble.

However, since that incident you can’t deny the feeling of something missing since a chunk of your life has been cut off. No memories of the accident have returned even after years. Recovering from the head injury—

“Wait—” Head snapping to face Jimin. “How did you know I had a head injury?”

Jimin blinks repeatedly, as if your words just sink in. “Ah! I mean isn’t it a head injury? You lost your memories after all.” An awkward laugh escapes his lips. “Usually, people who lost their memories have head injuries, right?”

“Well, yeah...”

“Anyways, finish the hot chocolate and you should head home before your parents—”

Suddenly, a wave of deja vu washes over you. Snapping your gaze from the hot chocolate in your hands, you look at Jimin as your brain starts to grow fuzzy at the familiarity of Jimin’s words.

“Jimin...” you begin.

“Huh?”

“Have we ever met before I started working here?”

“You mean the first time you came into this bakery?”

You shake your head. “No, even before that. Did we know each other?”

A surprised glint appears in his eyes before it dissipates as quick as it appears. “I don’t think so…?”

Oh.

“Maybe we’ve just ran into each other at some point in town. But I don’t think we ever knew each other.”

“I see...” Disappointment floods through you at his words.

Right, you thought to yourself. If he was a close friend he would have recognised you instantly when you came to his bakery.

“Oh, look at the time.” Jimin stands up. “You need to be home before dark, right?”

“It’s not a big deal—”

He shakes his head. “It’s alright. You’ve finished cleaning today. I just need to close up and check the supplies.”

“But—” Your words die in your throat when Jimin pats your head.

“You’ve worked hard today,” he grins at you.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“I’m home,” you call out to no one in particular before you hear your mother from the kitchen.

Once you reach the kitchen, your mother turns her head to see you. “Help me set the table, dinner’s almost ready.”

Nodding, you follow suit. “Where’s Dad?”

“Your father is still caught in a meeting. He’ll be home late.”

“I see,” you mutter, placing the silverwares on the table.

“How’s work?” your mother asks. “You’re home earlier than usual.”

“It’s great,” you answer. “The boss lets me off early.”

And you continue to talk about your day. From helping Jimin bake cakes and bread early in the morning, serving customers coffee and desserts, cleaning up the whole place, and enjoying the hot chocolate Jimin bought you earlier.

“He sounds like a nice guy,” your mom muses when you both sit at the dinner table.

“He is.” A smile appears on your face, remembering his sweet gesture and warm presence. Then your mind shifts to the conversation you had earlier, and what has been bothering you lately. “Mom?”

“Hmm…?”

“Five years ago, how did I end up in the hospital?”

Your mother noticeably stiffens at your question, ceases digging through her plate of food.

“You and Dad never filled me in. You both kept on saying that my memories will return eventually… Until now actually.” You let out a breath. “I think I’m old enough to know what really happened.”

Letting out a deep breath herself, your mother puts down her fork. “What do you remember?”

“I was at a playground and hiding… Then there’s someone who came to find me.” Met with silence from your mother, you continue, “Was it one of my friends?”

Shaking her head, your mother answers, “It wasn’t any of your high school friends.”

“Then who…?”

“You never mentioned his name. But you’d always talk about him back then.” Your mother sighs. “Go through the attic when you’re having a day off. You’ll find some of your old stuff I hid there. Make sure your father is not home.”

Standing up, you want to go there at once. However, your mother stops you. “Y/N, listen to me. Whatever you find there, if you… If anything hurts or feels just too much, I want you to stop, alright? You’re a grown adult and I trust you’ll prioritise your own health.”

Nodding wordlessly, you finish the remaining food on your plate.

[ when you were fifteen years old: after the incident ]

When the dismissal bell rings, some students instantly scramble from their desks, some stretch lazily on their seats and have conversations with others.

“Hey, Y/N.” One of your classmates calls you, a smile etched on her face. “So glad to have you back.”

“Yeah! This sem has been a pain in the ass. You’ll get through it in a breeze!” Another classmate adds.

You respond with a grateful smile of your own before packing up your things.

It hasn’t been that long since you were released from the hospital. You have persistently insisted your parents to let you go back to school and they finally relented after you promised them that you’ll go straight back home and to not strain yourself after dismissing your parents’ idea of hiring a driver.

Today is your first day back. Your friends greeted you excitedly when you stepped into the classroom. Even those who you recall never talked much with you greeted you with a ‘Hi’.

Walking mindlessly through the streets of your neighbourhood, your legs take you to a cafe as you recognise the familiar scent of coffee.

Tilting your head in confusion, you stare at the cafe building in shades of black and brown.

What exactly are you doing here?

There were no planned meetups with your friends, yet, your body seems to find its way here. Fishing out your phone, you scan through the past messages to double check any planned hangouts.

It’s a Wednesday.

But…

With the curiosity nagging inside you, you search for Beomgyu’s contact.

[ 4:05 PM ] You: beomie, do you know the cafe near my place?

[ 4:05 PM ] Beomgyu: i guess?? Every wednesday you'd always go there for no apparent reason at all. When i wanted to tag along you’d always give me the devil eye :(

[ 4:05 PM ] You: oh… that’s… well, sorry lol. Do u wanna come here?

[ 4:06 PM ] Beomgyu: wait, r u srs ???

[ 4:06 PM ] You: i mean if u’re not busy and i think getting coffee and hanging in the cafe would be good.

[ 4:07 PM ] Beomgyu: i'd never thought this day would come :’) i’ll be there in 10.

Chuckling at your friend’s response, you place your phone back into your pocket. Exhaling, you enter the cafe and make your way towards the cashier register.

“Welcome, what would you like for today?” The person smiles at you.

“Caramel macchiato, please.”

She nods, typing in your order. “That will be four dollars.”

After exchanging your payment with a receipt, you wait at an empty table for two near the window. Something about this familiar place, however, feels off. Like there is something missing that you can’t seem to put your finger on.

Your thoughts are cut off when someone takes the seat across from you. “Why are you so deep in thought?”

Beomgyu stares at you quizzically as you blink in realisation. “Uh…”

He narrows his stare at you suspiciously before shifting his gaze around the cafe. “So, what is it that kept you going here?”

You shake your head in response. “I have no idea either. Honestly, I have this gut feeling to come here when I passed by earlier.”

“Hmm, maybe the coffee?” Beomgyu watches one of the waitresses bringing your orders, placing it on your table.

Sighing, you stare at the steaming cup with caramel drizzles on the foam for a few moments. Then you bring the cup to your lips to take a sip.

“Argh, why is this bitter?” Scrunching your nose, you motion towards the waitress for extra caramel.

“Did… Your taste buds change too? You said the caramel macchiato here is perfect.”

A snort escapes you as you drizzle more caramel into the coffee. “I got hit in the damn head, Beomie. It doesn’t change my taste buds.”

He shrugs. “Well, who knows. I never knew you like caramel that much.”

You freeze momentarily.

“Y/N? You okay?” Beomgyu waves a hand in front of your face.

“Y-yeah, I just…”

“You just…?”

Shaking your head once more, you whisper, “It’s nothing…” But your eyes scan through the busy workers in the cafe.

Deep inside, you had an inkling that the coffee here isn’t your sole reason for coming here.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Turns out you were right.

Once when you came into the cafe on another Wednesday, you sat at your usual place after ordering your usual drink.

“Oh, my dear, you’re finally back,” someone says.

Blinking, your gaze snaps to the elder woman — maybe around her mid fifties — and you give her a small smile before asking, “Do I know you...?”

It was her turn to look confused at your words.

“I’m really sorry for not recognising!” You grow flustered at your words. “I lost my memory in an accident a few months ago...”

“Oh, that’s awful!” The lady — a regular customer, you assume — gasps. “So that’s why you don’t frequent this cafe anymore. The young man looked so heartbroken before he quit his job—”

“Young man?”

“The barista, dear,” the lady replies. “You used to come here and meet him. I had to shush the both of you every time to not disturb the other customers.”

“I... Was he from my school?”

The lady shakes her head. “I don’t think so. He never wore a uniform like yours.”

“Do you know his name?”

The lady shakes her head once more. “His name was Park. Probably that’s his last name. At least that’s what is written on his name tag.”

And you internally groan. There are thousands of people with that last name.

“Do you know where he’s gone?”

“I’m afraid no, my dear. I heard he quit the job suddenly.”

Sighing, you thanked the lady before heading out of the cafe with your shoulders dropping in defeat.

The trapdoor makes a loud creaking sound when you lift it up, indicating that it hasn’t been used for a very long time. Slipping the key back to your back pocket, you step up further on the ladder with the trap door laying on another side as you go through it while the floorboards creak underneath your weight.

It didn’t take you long to locate your old things. Scanning through the boxes, you find one doodled in various flowers and rainbows with your name written on it as well.

With a grunt, you lift up the dusty box, bringing it down to the floor with a thud which causes you to cough at the flying dust. In an attempt to swat the dust away, you wave your hand in front of you. Still coughing uncontrollably with your eyes watering. After your cough ceases, you crouch and open the box. A few notebooks can be found inside along with some old dolls from your childhood.

You vaguely remember the locked diary you liked to write in about your day and its pale pink cover which was covered in sparkling stickers you used to be obsessed with.

Digging further through the books, you finally found it — the possible answer to your lost memories — with a small key dangling on the lock.

Climbing down from the attic, you made your way to your room while fumbling with the lock and key of your old diary. After successfully unlocking it, you take a seat on your padded window sill, flipping through the yellowing pages.

The first page was clearly written by you. Your old handwriting and your name. The first entry you wrote dates back to a decade ago.

Your fingers twitch at how cringe-y most of the entries are. Yet, at the same time you find it endearing how you used to write about your day. The good, the bad, and the normal things — appreciating just to be able to experience and get through them.

The last of your entries date back to months before the incident when you were fifteen. Probably because you decided that you were too old to write diaries any longer.

Recalling how you’d always visit the cafe every Wednesday, you skim through Wednesday entries. However one particular name seems to stand out in those entries.

“Mochi?” You flip from one entry to another. Who the hell is that?

Deciding to get to the bottom of this, you search for the earliest entry that you can find — nine years ago.

I met the hot choco guy again, today. I’m feeling so happy!!! He is so nice. why can’t any of the boys in my school be like him????

Hot... Choco? Furrowing your brows, you skip to the next Wednesday entry.

i am feeling so happy that mama brought me to the cafe last last week!!! she do not let me drink the coffee drink, so Mochi give me hot choco! i think it’s the best BEST drink EVER!!!

“How the hell did hot choco guy turn into Mochi?” you mumble to yourself, flipping through your diary to the next Wednesday entry.

Mochi teached me how to do math!!! It was so fun! But when Teacher Lee teaches me, it’s always boring. How did Mochi make math fun??? I wish he go to my school instead and teach me math :(

You internally cringe at your younger self. Exhaling, you press your temple in disbelief.

This whole diary of your younger self is basically gushing over this hot-choco-turned-Mochi guy as you flip through other pages. However, you stop at a certain entry.

Today… Is a very bad day. But Mochi suddenly makes it better.

Glancing at the date — it was the day your grandmother passed away.

He promises to make me cinnamon rolls whenever i tell him to! Just like Grannie… I’m sorry, Diary. I don’t think i can write more today. I just hope tomorrow will be a better day.

“Mochi…” you mumble repeatedly with furrowing brows and the name seems to trigger your brain to relive some memories.

“I’m calling you Mochi!” You hear your own twelve-year old voice. Yelping, your diary lands on the floor with a small thud.

“No!” Another voice rings in your head — familiar and warm. “That’s a really uncool nickname.”

“But you look like a mochi! And it’s not uncool! I think it’s really cute!”

Blinking, your mind brings you back to reality. Reaching down for your diary, you freeze momentarily before clutching your head. For a moment, your heart stops when your gaze lands on your diary’s open page — a drawing of a familiar shooting star.

Mochi is… Jimin?

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

[ when you were twelve ]

When another sigh escaped his lips, you glanced up from your math workbook — his face can only be described as perturbed. With no hesitance, you quietly pushed the last cookie on your plate to him, earning his glassy stare as it shifted from his notebook that’s lying open on the table.

He blinked a few times before clearing his throat. “Why didn’t you finish that? Do you want to bring it home?”

You shook your head, heat tinging your cheeks. “It’s for you. You look like you need it.”

“It’s caramel cookies.”

Nodding, you mumbled, “You said eating it can comfort people.”

The boy stared at you for a moment longer — recalling the time when you had a bad day and he gave you that, then he chuckled. “I guess I did.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded again. “I can order hot chocolate for you too.”

He reached for the last cookie, finally a small smile you have awaited appearing on his face. “This is enough, Y/N. I really appreciate it. Thanks.”

You beamed at his words, then you extended one hand to take his notebook and draw a shooting star on the page it was opened on.

“We can’t really see shooting stars in here,” you explain, pushing his notebook back to him. “So, whenever you’re having a hard time, wish on this shooting star! It represents hopes and wishes!”

“What that’s—” He stopped himself. Letting out a sigh, he found himself nodding despite how ridiculously endearing the idea was. “Alright. I will.”

The blare of your alarm jolts you awake. Groaning, you grab your phone, turning off the alarm when you realise you have to go to work. You can’t find it in yourself to see Jimin today. Not after finding out that he was, is, part of your missing childhood memories.

Your gaze lands on the diary, laying open on your window sill. As you read more and more of your diary entries, Mochi being Jimin just makes sense. You remember how he went out of his way just to buy you hot chocolate when you were having a bad day — just like in the past.

After all this time, Jimin is actually part of, no, in most of your childhood life.

And he denied it.

Why?

You continuously drift back to that one question. Why did he deny it when you asked him? Don’t people usually love to get reacquainted with their childhood friends?

Sighing, you message Jimin listlessly, telling him you aren’t feeling well before you turn off your phone completely. You don’t think you can handle interacting more with him.

Hours passed, when someone barges in your room. “Y/N!”

Peeking out from your blanket, you glare at your best friend. “What the fuck, Kook?”

“Jimin told me you aren’t feeling well. So, I came to check up on you.”

“Okay, you did. Now, go back home.”

Without responding, he opens the curtain in your room, letting in the piercing sunlight and you let out an annoyed ‘tsk’.

Should have known your best friend isn’t going to let this go easily.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been off the whole weekend. You may be able to trick Jimin but you can’t trick me.”

Still burying yourself under your blanket, the bed dips on your friend’s weight as he waits for your response. But you keep your silence, trying your best to even your breathing. You’ve cried enough after all.

“Hmm?” Jungkook stands up. “What’s this? Your diary?”

Abruptly, you fling yourself off the bed and grab your diary from his clutches.

“Go home, Jungkook. I’m not in the mood to deal with this.”

“You know I won’t until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m just...” Your shoulders droop in defeat. “Why?”

“Why what?”

You hate crying in front of anyone. But it’s as if a dam broke, your tears do not stop falling while you babble, “Why did he pretend to not know me? Why did he deny? Why—”

Jungkook blinks repeatedly at your sudden change. “W-wait! Why are you crying? I don’t under—”

“Park Jimin!” Your sudden outburst flusters him further. “The guy who you’re friends with and who you recommended for me to work with! That’s who!”

“But—”

“He‘s Mochi.”

Jungkook looks dumbfounded for a moment before your words register inside his head. “M-Mochi?”

Like a petulant child, you climb on your bed once more and hide your diary beneath your pillow. “Leave me alone, Kook.”

With a defeated sigh, Jungkook trudges out of your room, leaving you once again drowning in your thoughts.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Jimin has always loved mornings, especially when he is able to quietly bake on what most people would call ungodly hours. There is something enjoyable about being fully awake during this time when no sounds of passing vehicles can distract him, making him feel at ease.

He had started appreciating the little things in life when you — who once stared up at him with curious eyes, expression lightening up when he made a cup of hot chocolate for you — taught him to.

Chuckling to himself, his mind drifts back to the time you first entered his bakery. Gods, he should have known it was you. But you were so different, he could hardly comprehend how much you had grown.

Gone was your happy-go-lucky self. He was stunned when you suddenly snapped at him. Your younger self would probably respond with a smile and drone on about how much you love cinnamon rolls. For a second, his heart had hoped. Maybe you remembered him after all these years?

Yet that hope dissipated in an instant when you merely apologised and ran out. Moreover, you didn’t return to his bakery after buying the cinnamon rolls, he thought he had screwed things up by attempting to start a conversation with you. Or maybe that person wasn’t really you. Just someone who looks a lot like you. He still had his suspicions after all.

However, his suspicions were gone the moment you introduced yourself, leaving him speechless. Jimin would be lying if he said he didn’t hope — at least for a bit — that you would remember him when he mentioned his name.

That was why the moment you appeared once more to work as a part-timer, he was ecstatic. No words can explain it.

He started to look forward to work every day — coming to his own bakery to see you even when you didn’t remember him, but he would still gladly take whatever he can to be around you.

Once he sets the tray of unbaked cinnamon rolls into the oven, his phone buzzes. As soon as he reads the text, his heart drops a little.

[ 7:08 AM ] You: Sorry, I cant come to work today. Not feeling well.

He types, ‘That’s okay. get well soon, y/n :)’

But it left undelivered. Did your phone die? He wonders.

Jimin can’t help shake the weird feeling bubbling inside. So, he messages Jungkook.

[ 7:15 AM ] Jimin: y/n isn’t feeling well today. do u mind checking up on her ???

But of course, Jungkook didn’t read the message until a few hours later. That boy enjoys gaming all night.

[ 12:03 PM ] Jungkook: what?

[ 12:03 PM ] Jungkook: for real ?? since when does she get sick? that girl has a fucking high immunity. she never even once got a cold during the semester

Jimin furrowed his brows at that.

[ 12:04 PM ] Jimin: still, go check up on her pls. she’s ur friend too

[ 12:04 PM ] Jungkook: yeah, omw

It hasn’t even been an hour later when Jungkook rushes into the bakery — earning surprised and curious glances from the customers who were chattering among themselves. “Hyung—“ he catches his breath as he stands in front of the counter. “I think you need to fix—“ Huff. “—I mean go to Y/N’s house yourself.

Jimin blinks in confusion.

“You... You’re Mochi, aren’t you?”

At the mention of that name, blood drains from Jimin’s face instantly.

She remembers...?

“How did you—”

“What matters is, you need to fix it, hyung. You’re the only one who can. She’s not herself, right now. I've known her for a few years and it takes a lot for her to react like this. So, please, you should talk about it.”

“Okay,” Jimin breathes out. “Do you mind closing the cafe once the customers are all done?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, just go to her, hyung. I’ll handle everything here.”

[ when you were fifteen: before the accident ]

“I wish you can teach me math all the time, Mochi,” you giggle, leaning back on the cafe chair. “Everything is easier when you explain it.”

Jimin chuckles at that. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one not paying attention in class.”

Shaking your head rapidly, you deny, “Of course I paid attention! It’s just... I don’t know… It was really boring when my teacher was teaching. He just drones on and on without stopping.”

With an amused hum, Jimin stands up. “I’ll get ready to leave. I’ll walk you home.”

After a few minutes, you head out of the cafe with Jimin behind you. Shivering against the cool night air, you draw closer to the boy. Instinctively, Jimin offers you his open hand which you accepted with no hesitance.

Little did he know, every time he does this, it makes your heart beat a little faster at the way your hand fits well in his. And you savour it.

The build up of feelings has been going on for a while now. Maybe a few months. You’ve developed a crush on him. Like, how can you not? Jimin possesses charming qualities that no one else has. Not to mention how kind and warm of a person he is.

Meetings in the cafe had you wishing they were dates instead. And you had to let him know.

And tell him you did.

He blinks at first, words sinking into him. Mochi, I think I like you. Like, really, really like you.

His cheeks are pink, you weren’t sure if it's from the cold or his embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.”

Of course. What were you expecting? He only sees you as a little sister.

“No, that’s okay,” you reply quickly, but your heart drops. “It’s just… You know, I wanted to tell you know because you’re really cool, Mochi.”

“Y/N… Listen, this is not a good time—” Abruptly, he stops, catching your wrist on his. “I want you to hide in the playground.”

“What?”

“Hide, please. I will explain everything later.”

You want to run away from him. But the pleading look on his face makes you listen.

“There he is!” You hear an unfamiliar shout.

Cursing under his breath, Jimin quickly pushes you under the slide. “Wait here.”

With your own ragged breathing, you struggle to keep yourself as quiet as possible, biting down a hiss from the sting of your scraped knees. Tears pool in your eyes as you wait, hidden behind one of the playground’s slides and out of sight of any possible passerby.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

[ Present time ]

Jimin reaches your house, his heart beating fast against his chest with a box of cinnamon rolls in hand.

You are home alone and Jungkook has left the door unlocked.

Letting himself in, Jimin glances around. Everything still looks the same as back then. He went to your house once to tutor you. And he still can remember that day clearly.

Climbing up the stairs, he reaches your room. With shaking hands, he knocks on the door.

Silence.

A moment or two passes then your door opens. Jimin braces for the anger you’d throw at him.

But nothing comes.

You merely stand there, eyes glassy as they lock on his.

“Y/N...” He mutters, torn between to reach out or not. But you leave the door open as you sit on your bed. Jimin enters your familiar room, still surprised at how it still looks the same. And his eyes fall on a notebook — the notebook you never let him read — on the table.

“Why are you here?” you ask, voice trembling.

“I wanted to check up on you—”

“Why?”

Jimin knows at once what you are asking.

He approaches you sitting on the edge of the bed. He kneels down, peering up with those chocolate eyes of his to meet your downcast stare — like those times when he wants to talk to you and you refuse to look at him.

“Do… Do you still remember me?” Your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

“Y/N…” The lack of surprise in his voice answers it. He still remembers you as you recall the once shocked expression on his face when you first introduce yourself. Now, it all made sense.

“W-Why didn’t you tell me?” A sob escapes your lips. “Do you not want me to remember—”

He shakes his head, denying it quickly. “No! Of course not. I just… I was ecstatic actually when it was you who came to work for me.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?” Voice cracking. “You knew me—”

Clearly in conflict, he sighs, “I don’t want you to remember your traumatic memories… Remembering me might cause you more pain.”

“But it didn’t. Those memories, from what I can remember there’s nothing—”

“That’s what your parents told me, Y/N.”

Eyes widening, you gape at him as tears cascade down your face.

“You were seriously injured back then. The doctor said it will be best for you to let your own memories come to you in their own time. And I had to leave this place... I came by after your operation and... I wanted to say goodbye but I was told it was best to not see you any longer to prevent anymore distress—”

“But you are important to me!” You cut him off. Then turning quieter, “You are important to me…”  You say between sobs.

Covering your eyes with your hand, you whimper when Jimin engulfs you in a hug. “I’m sorry…” He murmurs, caressing your head. “I’m so sorry…”

His heart breaks at your current state, tightening his hold on you, who’s crying into his chest. Years of buried regret and longing resurface. He had envisioned many times on how you would remember him. But he fails to realise how much it can hurt you when your memories return. If only he can turn back time, he will take that chance to save you from the misery of your memory loss.

Yet, all he can do now is to hold you close, begging you for forgiveness and hope that you’d let him stay by your side.

“So, let me get this straight, you—” Jungkook points his straw at you. “—and Jimin hyung were childhood friends—” He pierces the plastic cover of his milk tea. “—and he used to tutor you in a cafe.”

Nodding, you purse your lips and enjoy your own drink.

You had taken a few days off after the reconciliation to collect your thoughts and confront your parents about what had happened. They have come into terms with their protectiveness of you staying out very late. And you have managed to convince them to let you stay out late as long as you let them know.

You were planning to stay in bed all day if it wasn’t for Jungkook who barged into your room like he owns the place, after he claimed that Jimin lets him off from work early — which you doubt honestly, it’s more of Jungkook escaping from work — and decided to drag you to the nearest milk tea shop.

“Is something weird?” you blurt out.

“Did you by any chance, I don’t know...” Jungkook mutters. “Have feelings for each other?”

You nearly choke on your tapioca pearl and rapidly you shake your head. “No! That’s—”

Jungkook narrows his stare at you, sipping his drink as you continue to blabber, “I mean, I knew him since I was like, what? Twelve? He never sees me that way.”

“Maybe he didn’t back then.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean both of you are adults now. Aren’t things different?”

You snort at his words. “He always sees the little girl in me, Jungkook. So, please, don’t make things weird, alright? I can literally see your head gearing.”

Jungkook lets out a sigh. “Alright, if you say so. But how about you?”

Sipping your drink, you lift a brow at him.

“Do you like him?”

“Of course, I do.”

“I meant like, like him.”

“Kookie, what are you? Five?”

He snorts at your response. “Five heads taller than you—” Your glare shuts him up. “Okay, but do you see him as someone special?”

An exasperated sigh escapes your lips. “Why are we discussing this? We’re just friends. Who coincidentally are childhood friends as well.”

“You sure?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh once more. “What are you expecting me to say?”

“What do you think of him?”

Almost at once, the words flow easily out of your mouth. “He’s a caring person and he knows how to comfort someone when they’re having a bad day.”

“You mean, he knows how to comfort you when you’re having a bad day yourself,” Jungkook chuckles.

You blink at that.

“Look, I’m not implying anything but he was worried as hell when I told him about you the other day. Even nearly left his bakery without supervision. That’s when yours truly—” He points at himself. “—came in.”

And the question that swims in the back of your mind disappears. “So, it is you, you overgrown rabbit. You told him about me—”

“Well, you can’t blame me. You should be thanking me instead. It’s because of me you both finally reconciled. Admit it, you’re happy — happier, in fact.”

And you can’t deny it. Jungkook has been one of those people who’d look out for you. Yes, even when he can be a pain in the ass sometimes, or just loves to hear the “piping hot” tea of what’s happening in your life.

Sighing in defeat, you murmur, “Even if I do like him...” You shake your head. “No, it shouldn’t even matter in the first place.”

Noticing your shuttering expression, Jungkook thankfully does not press the subject further. Nor does he question why. And you are grateful for him.

“Interesting. So, you do like him.”

Scratch that, your best friend is still a pain in the ass.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Standing in front of the bakery cafe, you released a deep breath.

Through the glass door, Jungkook is helping out at the cashier counter, serving beverages and desserts to dine-in customers. However, Jimin is nowhere in sight.

Releasing a deep breath, the bell of the door rings which signals your entrance. Jungkook notices you at once before he points to the kitchen.

You rush inside — stopping abruptly a few steps away from him — now, regarding the man differently. He was the boy who has been your comfort for so many occasions after all.

Jimin is icing cupcakes, his eyes focusing on his task and you can’t help but smile at the sight.

With your memories — of kindness, warmth, and friendship — now fully returned, you remember how you were always enamoured watching Jimin work. You’d watch him make drinks in the cafe when you had no homework to do. You’d sit at the bar, munching on cookies-of-the-day as your eyes followed Jimin’s movements.

A few moments pass, Jimin’s gaze shifts to you briefly and double-takes. He curses under his breath, cupcake slipping from his grip — icing spilling on the marble counter. “Hey, you’re back—” He quickly grabs a cloth and wipes off the cream before he turns to face you properly, grinning from ear-to-ear. “—you didn’t tell me you’re coming in today.”

He opens his arms and your legs move of its own accord, following your instinct as you close the distance between you and him — wrapping your arms around his waist.

You weren’t surprised at how your younger self used to have a big fat crush on him. He was and always will still be your Mochi. The guy who treated you to your favourite sweets, who knows how you like your caramel macchiato the best, and who never fails to put butterflies in your stomach.

Breathing his sweet scent, you remember the time you’d ask him for hugs whenever you were down and your younger self had even claimed once that his hugs were magical as it was written in your diary. To quote it, “Mochi gives the BEST BEST hugs in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD”.

“Your hugs…” you mumble, eyes closed. “They’re still the best…”

Jimin merely tightens his hold on you. That is until a force — appearing in the form of Jeon Jungkook — shatters the serene atmosphere, bringing you back to reality. “Hyung! Oh—”

Abruptly, you both pull away from each other. Jungkook stands awkwardly, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“What is it?” Jimin breaks the silence, composed as ever.

“Uh, need more cupcakes. The ones on the display are finished…”

“Right,” Jimin turns to you. “Y/N, can you help me ice the rest of the cupcakes?”

Nodding, you turn to the employee’s room, putting your things in the locker and grabbing an apron.

Hugging Jimin seems so natural that you fail to consider how weird it looks to the people around you. Jungkook’s awkward silence proves that.

Your thoughts are swimming in confusion. And once again those butterflies appear in your stomach. Fanning your heated cheeks with your hands, you take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

Your childhood crush is gone. You’re just happy to have Mochi back in your life. That’s all. That should be all.

One afternoon, you mindlessly clean up the kitchen. Due to the public holiday, the bakery is closing earlier, and your thoughts have drifted back to the past.

You remember the night of the incident when Jimin walked you home after he had lost those men who chased after him. He stopped you for a moment, breaking the silence. “You okay?” Warm concern lacing his tone.

Jaw clenching, you mumbled. “Just a scratch.” Reluctant to give him any longer response.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have shoved you harshly before.” He crouched, inspecting your knees before he peered up to meet your stare.

“It’s fine.”

When you were just a few blocks away from home, Jimin broke the silence. “Listen Y/N—” His footsteps faltered as he reached to touch your shoulder. “—about earlier, I think you shouldn’t have feelings for me, I—”

Abruptly, you pulled your hand away from his, hurt consuming you. “I shouldn’t have feelings for you?”

You wished Jimin had forgotten your spontaneous confession as he nodded, hesitantly.

“Well, I can’t control my feelings. So, just let it be. It’ll be fine.” You glanced at him before walking faster.

The rest of the trip home was tense, full of unanswered questions. Who were those men? Why did they chase after Jimin? Is it really that bad to have feelings for him? Who gave him the right to dictate your feelings?

You felt so childish back then. Recalling the memories makes you cringe at your younger self for overreacting. But you suppose it’s normal for a fifteen year-old girl. And you were able to sense that Jimin wanted to ease the tense atmosphere. But you were too hurt to even give him a chance. You needed time to process what happened that day.

However, one minute Jimin had stopped you again, desperate to appease you. And the next minute, someone ran towards him with a bat in hand. It’s as if time slowed down, you moved before a harsh impact landed on you.

Your mind brings you back to reality, and instinctively you touch the part where your head was struck with your free hand.

“Y/N? Are you done cleaning up?”

Jimin’s voice startles you and you nearly drop the mop’s handle from your grasp.

“Yes,” you manage to say. And somehow you can’t look at him in the eye.

“What’s wrong?” Out of instinct, he cups your face to look at you in the eye. And hell, your heartbeat gradually increases as you can smell the sweet scent of bread from him along with a tinge of his cinnamon scent.

Mind blanking out at the close proximity, the only intelligible response you can say is, uhhh. Your grip on the mop handle tightens as your palm grows clammy.

He’s gorgeous. That’s one thing for sure.

“Hey, why are you blushing?”

Blinking rapidly, you watch his eyes turn into those crescent moons and a giggle escapes his lips as he pulls away, grabbing the mop from your hold.

“I’ll put this back. You nearly snapped it in half, you know.”

“Yeah,” you nod, mind whirling and you blabber the first thing in your mind. “I have a pet fish.”

“Huh?”

Realising how random you sounded, you clear your throat. “I just remember I had to come home early today, since Mr. Goldy is waiting for me.”

“Ooh, that’s—”

But you’ve run for the lockers, quickly changing out of your work attire.

“Thanks for today, Mochi. See you tomorrow!” You say and run out of the bakery without sparing him another glance.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“What are you exactly doing here?”

Unflinching, you answer your best friend monotonously, “Buying a fish.”

“You don’t have a tank at home.”

“Exactly, that’s why I’m looking for one now.”

“But why?”

“Why not?”

Jungkook lets out a sigh. “You’ve been acting weird all week, Y/N.”

You ignore his words, eyes scanning through the fishes of different colours and kinds.

“Oh! These ones are pretty.” Jungkook comments, earning your attention.

“Excuse me?” You call one of the workers there. “I was wondering if this fish is suitable for beginners.”

The worker nods, smiling. “Yes, these are what we call the Betta fish. Their scales are beautiful and they are also easy to take care of. Would you like to purchase them?”

You respond with a brief ‘yes’.

“Now, all you need is a tank,” Jungkook says.

“We provide delivery services for the tank. I’d recommend buying this one.” The worker points at one of the tanks. “In the meantime, you can purchase the fishbowl for now.”

And with that you have a new pet fish and a brand new fish bowl in hand — specifically Jungkook’s, because you gotta put those muscles into good use — and you head back home. On the way back, Jungkook suddenly clears his throat. “So… What’s up with you?”

“What?”

“Let me summarise what just happened,” he says. “I had the day off today, and suddenly you called me to meet you in a fish store, and you have been acting all weird and somehow out of all the nice shades of blue fishes in the tank, you chose the ugly yellow—”

You kick his shin in retaliation. “It’s not yellow, it’s gold, dumbass. How dare you say that in front of Lady Goldilocks.”

“Oh, wow, now it even has a name.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I seriously can’t believe you chose this one out of all the other colours. It reminds me of Jimin hyung—” And he gapes at you. “No way. Is it because he likes this colour?”

You blink in realisation. Jimin does like this colour.

“Okay, ‘fess up. What’s up with you?”

You let out a defeated sigh. “I like him.”

Jungkook looks unamused.

“I mean like, like him. And I need to get over him.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Why would Hyung want that?””

“I shouldn’t like him, Kook. He told me once and, I don’t know, I just can’t control my feelings. I don’t want to lose him again and I’m scared that he’ll be gone if he knows—”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Jungkook grasps your shoulder with his free hand. “—I can understand what you’re feeling, Y/N. How about let me prove to you that Jimin won’t be gone even when you have feelings for him?”

“I swear, Jeon Jungkook, if you utter a single word about this conversation—”

“No!” He denies repeatedly. “I won’t. Promise. I can prove it to you another way. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, then. How?”

“I have a plan. To take the title as your number one best friend once and for all—”

“Who says you are even at the top?”

“Aren’t I? You told me once.” Jungkook fishes his phone out of his jacket, taps a few times on his screen before he shows you a video of your drunk self a few months ago after exam week.

“Kookieee, I think you’re my number one best friend! So proud to have someone like you in my life—”

You try to reach for his phone, cheeks burning in embarrassment, as you shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster. However, Jungkook being Jungkook merely cackles at that. Your voice from the video still continues, “—you’re like Mochi—” Your present self tenses at that.

“Who’s Mochi?” Jungkook asked curiously in the video.

“Shhhhh… We don’t speak of that name here, m’kay? Mochi is gone. So you are best friend number one!”

Jungkook stops the video, tucking his phone back to his pocket. “I asked you once who Mochi was when you were sober. But you didn’t remember back then. So I never asked again until you mentioned the name ‘Mochi’ once more a few days ago.”

Gaping, you stop walking as the stunned silence falls over you.

“I think your subconscious had always known about him. And it shows how special he is to you.” When you’re about to deny that, Jungkook shushes you. “Don’t try to deny, Y/N. Even before you knew he was Mochi you already liked him.”

“I hate that you’re starting to look like a rooster. Were you always this cocky?”

Your best friend merely shrugs. “So, here’s the plan. As I was saying, with my ‘number one best friend’ title under threat, we’re going to demote Jimin as your boyfriend! It’s a win-win situation!”

“What? I never even asked for him to be my boyfriend but wait— Don’t you mean promote?”

“Y/N, as much as I love your dumb ass, you tend to be quite demanding with people. Hopefully, he knows how to handle your present self.”

“Jeon Jungkook, please don’t make me regret this.”

A few days after the conversation with Jungkook, the boy gets to work as fast as possible, and by work, it means work to get on Jimin’s nerves instead of actually being helpful in the cafe.

Jungkook has become noticeably clingy, or overall, just more touchy with you. It’s not like it’s anything new in all honesty. Throughout college, the relationship between the both of you is purely platonic. Your other college friends knew this and seeing the both of you cuddle wouldn’t be a strange sight. Jimin, however, isn’t one of your college friends and Jungkook seems to have taken advantage of this. Thus, he begins to work in the bakery almost every day, claiming just to see you.

At first Jimin showed no reaction since Jungkook is a good friend of his. But he has grown visibly irritated lately while Jungkook revels in pressing the older one’s buttons further.

“Jungkook…”

“Hmm?”

“Can you please stop invading my personal space?”

“But it’s not going to work if I don’t— Oof!” You shove him away before going back to your task — placing the cupcakes on the display tray — annoyance building up at Jungkook’s disruptions.

“I’m going to file a restraining order on you at this rate.”

He huffs, moving towards you once more. “Don’t you want to prove that Jimin is going to be pissed if he sees me being affectionate to you?”

You shake your head. “I just want to work in peace.”

“Hmph. You’re no fun.”

“Cuz you’re the one not working.”

“Hey, I’m helping here voluntarily.”

You ignore his words, focusing on your task while Jungkook starts whining for you to give him attention. “Kook, I fucking swear if you don’t get your hands off—”

Jimin’s voice rings “Y/N, are the cupcakes...” He trails as soon as he enters the kitchen, freezing at the sight of Jungkook wrapping his arms around your waist, snuggling his dumb head on the crook of your neck.

“He’s going to rage,” Jungkook whispers, laughing softly.

“Uh, Jungkook can I talk to you?” Jimin asks, eyes noticeably narrowing as his tone tenses.

“Finally,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, before he lets go of you and faces Jimin. “Sure, Hyung.”

You take that cue to leave, bringing the freshly iced cupcakes to the display counter, leaving Jungkook and Jimin alone in the kitchen.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“What’s been going on with you lately? You come here to work everyday but all I can see is you busy flirting with Y/N.” Jimin throws the younger one an unamused glare.

Jungkook answers easily, “I do my job, Hyung. And so what if I do flirt with Y/N?”

“You can’t,” Jimin blurts out, earning a questioning look from Jungkook. “You just can’t.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Do you like Y/N?”

“Of course, she’s my best friend.”

Jimin shoots Jungkook another unamused look at his answer.

“I’m going to tell her how I feel in three days,” Jungkook continues.

Jimin’s stomach drops at that statement. However, at the same time the urge to let you know how he truly feels increases. But the thought of the impending rejection after hurting you and causing your memory loss makes him think twice.

Maybe Jungkook deserves you more than him — he can protect and support you while Jimin has failed.

With a shaky breath, Jimin mutters, “Take care of her, alright?”

Obviously, his response catches Jungkook off guard. “What?”

“Take good care of Y/N, JK. I’m seriously counting on you.”

“Wait—“ Jungkook looks downright flustered at the unexpected response. “Hyung, wait.”

“What?” Now it’s Jimin’s turn to be confused.

Jungkook clears his throat. “Just give me an honest answer, hyung. No lies.”

A pause.

“Do you like Y/N? As in more than friends?”

Jimin nods without hesitance.

Jungkook mumbles something under his breath that Jimin is sure it sounds like, freaking idiots.

“Go tell her how you feel, Hyung. And tell her as soon as possible.”

“But you—”

“It’s to push you to confess to her. I don’t see Y/N that way.” Jungkook sighs. “Honestly, what would the both of you be without me?”

Jimin stands in the kitchen, speechless, as Jungkook continues to ramble how significant his role is in between your relationship and how you and Jimin owe him so much.

“So, yes, go tell her how you feel, hyung. She’ll listen to whatever you’ll say.”

With a newfound resolve, hope sparks in Jimin’s heart. “I will.”

To say that Jimin is nervous would be an understatement. He had barely slept a wink last night, thinking of all the words and how he would explain why he had left so suddenly and confess his feelings to you. Jungkook has been a supportive friend, even if he does push Jimin’s buttons along the way. However, Jimin knows that it was his own way of showing encouragement.

You are cleaning the rest of the tables of the cafe and Jimin can’t take his eyes off you, staring at you through the small window opening between the kitchen and the counter area.

“Are we done for today, Mochi?” Your voice snaps him out of his daydream.

“Yeah!” Jimin continues to wipe the kitchen counter quickly, replying almost too enthusiastically before he clears his throat. “Do you have plans tonight, Y/N?”

You enter the kitchen and once again Jimin’s heartbeat rises. “Nope. I’m going straight back home after this. Lady Goldilocks is waiting for me.”

Lady Goldilocks. Jimin chuckles at the mention of your fish’s name. He wonders if one day he’s able to see the pet fish for himself. He had asked what happened to Mr Goldy and you had become flustered at that since you didn’t know the fish was female. So, now, you have changed the fish’s name. Yet, somehow Jimin got an inkling that there is more to the story. He had asked Jungkook — to which the boy had valiantly refused to utter a word about it and had babbled, “Huh? Fish? What fish? Is that for dinner?”

Once the both of you finished closing up the bakery cafe, Jimin taps on your shoulder before you had the chance to go back home.

“May I walk you home?”

You blink, processing his words then nodding rapidly. “S-Sure.”

Jimin smiles warmly at you. It’s easy in fact. Just being in your presence always brings happiness into his heart. You had grown into an amazing person and even more attractive.

Something about you had always captivated Jimin since the first time you met him in the cafe where he used to do his part time work. Your curious eyes were always following him as he took the customers’ orders and honestly, it was very endearing.

Comfortable silence falls upon you both, walking through the asphalt pathway and naturally, Jimin opens his palms, extending it towards you.

You stare at that for a moment and clasp his hand with yours. Jimin weaves your fingers together, bringing you closer to him as you continue to walk back home.

“Do you mind if we take a little detour?”

You nod at his words.

Once Jimin reaches the destination, he can sense your eyes glance curiously at the empty hill. He pulls you up onto the top of the hill, sitting down on the grass while he pats the space next to him and you follow suit.

“Look up,” Jimin whispers, and you did.

A quiet gasp escapes your lips at the sight of twinkling stars that scatters across the dark sky.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Jimin voices out. “Someone made me realise how beautiful the stars are…” He falters. “A-And she had never left my mind all those years. One of my deepest regrets is that I wasn’t able to say goodbye when I had to leave.”

You hear his words, yet you stay silent — an encouragement for him to continue to speak what’s on his mind.

“My family was in a difficult financial position back then and my dad had done things I wasn’t proud of…” Jimin’s eyes turn glassy and faraway, even when he sets his gaze up. “And one of them is that he had made a deal with loan sharks without the guarantee of paying them back… And of course, they were angry.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath.

“I once thought that probably I could still stay here back then. Even more so when I met you. But I was wrong. Those men started to chase after me and because of that, you—” He shudders. “—got injured. And that night my parents had made plans to leave without me and my brother knowing.”

He turns to look at you. “I never got to apologise to you for causing that. I should be the one to protect you but… I failed. For that, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Jimin…” You say softly. “It’s not your fault. I was the one who jumped in front of you when the man came after you. It’s my own choice because you are special to me.”

“But I could have—”

You shush him with a pointer finger in front of his lips for a few moments. “You don’t have to be sorry anymore, Mochi. It’s not your fault. And what matters now is to focus on the present and look to the future, right?”

He nods, emotions swimming inside his chocolate eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I thought—”

“For telling you that you shouldn’t have feelings for me.”

And you lapse into silence. He remembers…?

“I hate that that has hurt you. I shouldn’t have said that. But I was happy but desperate too since my family—”

“Jimin.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“What do you see me as, now?”

He blinks. All the practiced words on how he would tell you his feelings dissipate from his mind as he blankly stares at you. “I… I like you.” His voice grows quieter. “More than friends…”

“And if I said you shouldn’t have feelings for me?”

A flash of hurt crosses his eyes briefly. But he answers, nonetheless, “I would do what you want.”

“So, you reciprocate my feelings now?”

“H-huh?”

“I like you too. More than friends. In fact, I think my feelings have grown for you ever since I found out you’re Mochi.”

It takes a few moments for Jimin to process your words. He gapes, mouth opening and closing.

“You are resembling Lady Goldilocks right now.”

“What?”

Your cheeks flush. “Lady Goldilocks is a Betta fish. She was the golden one in a tank full of her blue siblings. Jungkook tried persuading me to choose the blue ones since they were more attractive to look at. But all I could see is the gold one since it reminded me of you.”

“I like golden colours…” Jimin mumbles in realisation.

“Exactly,” you let out a sheepish laugh, eyes turning to look back up into the sky. Before Jimin can respond, your eyes brighten up. “Look! A shooting star!”

Jimin snaps his gaze up as well.

“Hurry, make a wish!” You then close your eyes, smiling from ear-to-ear. Jimin follows suit, making his own wish.

As soon as you both finish making your wishes, you turn to face him once more.

“Are you still sorry for saying that to me?”

Jimin nods, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. Hell, he thinks he would always regret hurting you that time.

“I know how you can make it up to me then.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

“W-What?” He splutters.

“Unless you don’t want—“ Yet, your words die on your throat as Jimin moves closer to you, eliminating the distance between you both as he cups your face just like that time in the bakery.

Without another word, he leans down, pressing his lips on yours softly while you place your hands on top of his before he presses further, brows furrowing as he kisses you fervently. For the time being, all that matters is just you and him. He caresses your cheeks and you run your hands down to wrap around his waist until you can feel his heart beating against his chest.

After pulling away — both of you catching your breaths — Jimin presses his forehead against yours, running his thumb over your lips while you were unable to open your eyes for a few moments at the burst of emotions that is coursing through you.

“I’ve imagined this moment so many times,” he admits. “My wish finally came true.” And you smile at that.

“My wish also came true because of you, Mochi...”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Sitting on one of the tables, your eyes can’t take themselves off Jimin as he serves customers. Today is your day off and you decided to pay him a visit in the bakery.

“You’re drooling.”

Your gaze snaps up to your best friend who sits across you after placing a cinnamon roll on the table for you. Jungkook continues, “I swear I’m going to vomit one of these days if I see you or Jimin hyung throwing each other— what was that called? It’s an old term— Oh! Goo-goo eyes one more time.”

“Shut up, Jeon. I’m not.” You reach for the roll, taking a bite.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah right, you basically either stare at him like he placed stars in the sky or like you want to tear off his clothes—”

You choke on the roll, quickly reaching for your glass of water before you throw your napkin at his face. Jungkook cackles at that before he resumes his act, sighing. “This is a mistake. I shouldn’t have intervened. I didn’t know you’d be like this. My best friend is so uncool now.”

“Y/N is what?” You perk up at Jimin’s voice.

“Whipped,” Jungkook mutters before he takes his cue to leave. He stands up, passing by Jimin after shooting the older one a teasing glance.

Jimin sits across from you, and he instinctively reaches for your hand on the table. “How was your day?” And you swear you can hear Jungkook making a gagging sound amidst the chatter of the customers.

“Good. I finished my chores at home earlier today. So, I thought I would come visit.”

Minutes pass by quickly as you chatter with Jimin. He had almost forgotten to go back to work until Jungkook reminded him. When it is time to close up the bakery, you watch him wash the remaining mixing bowls while perching on one of the cleaned counters of the kitchen.

“You know, I could use some help,” Jimin teases, drying his hands on his apron.

A smile curls up on the corner of your lips, eyes following his movements — drawing closer to where you are. “Well, I think you got it all handled, Mochi.”

Once he reaches you, he pulls you to wrap your legs around his waist while your arms rest on his shoulders — encircling around his neck. You both stare at each other and he pushes a strand of stray hair away from your face, tucking it behind an ear while his other hand settles on your waist.

“Sometimes, I still can’t believe that you’re really here with me,” You admit. “Just like a sweet dream.”

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not, Y/N...” He leans to give you a chaste kiss. “... we’ll make up for the lost time we didn’t spend together.”

“Promise?”

He softly smiles at you. “Promise.”

author’s note: this was originally intended to be posted on jimin’s birthday but well i decided to add more stuff in it. thus, i am late alskflsdda so yes, i hope you guys enjoy this fic and feedbacks are always appreciated !! thank you for reading ♡

[tanoraqui]

tanoraqui

Still thinking about an au in which for some reason WWX and the Wens are left to just live peacefully on the creepy death mountain - some detente wherein they don’t leave the mountain ever and in exchange no one tries to visit ever. Borders patrolled by corpses and sect disciples. So A-Yuan grows up raised kind of collectively but mostly by WWX and Wen Qing (the one most likely to tell WWX that he’s doing it wrong), and learns healing-focused spiritual cultivation AND demonic cultivation, and then at some point starts sneaking out to be the terrifying force of righteous kindness he was always going to be

tanoraqui

Righteous kindness but also, like, having picked up WWX’s cavalier confidence (or at least some of the ability to fake it) and Wen Qing’s general attitude of Do No Harm But Take No Shit

Like IMAGINE

tanoraqui

In this au, despite the strict border-by-mutual-agreement that’s the only reason somehow no ones tried to attack, LWJ sneaks in like one a year so he and WWX can make eyes at one another but not actually say anything ever, and Wen Qing and LXC are both EXHAUSTED bc both their dumb little brothers (WWX is a sibling by adoption now don’t @ me) mope for like a week after EVERY SINGLE TIME THIS HAPPENS, and it’s been /over ten years/.

tanoraqui

Meanwhile Jiang YanLi and JZX are FINE, and JYL somehow keeps up some sort of correspondence with WWX - or at least, he’s faithfully managed to send a birthday present for Jin Ling every single year, and every time, JYL makes her son write a thank-you note and bribes some series of people to get it smuggled back to Yiling

tanoraqui

...which means, honestly, that Jin Ling is probably wildly curious about his uncle the evil demonic cultivator kept trapped within the terrible ghost mountain by the forces of Good and Right, and WILL sneak out one day to try to visit. Optimally, obviously, at the same time Wen Yuan is sneaking out to see the non-mountain world

tanoraqui

The optimal plot is that Wen Yuan ropes Jin Ling into helping him set up WWX and LWJ, because he, too, is exasperated at this point, and Jin Ling ropes Wen Yuan into arranging like a parent trap reunion for the Jiang siblings, and obviously there are monsters and undead to complicate it all

tanoraqui

They kind of acquire Lan Jingyi somewhere, somehow. He’s having a blast

There is a 100% chance that the first Adult(TM) to find them is Wen Ning and they just kind of rope him into whatever the hell is going on at the time

...you know what, I think this is just a good au where JGY fucking died at some point

tanoraqui

Maybe someone threw him down the stairs again and he just broke his fucking neck. WWX is still vilified but between Jiang Cheng not really wanting to attack and Jiang (Jin?) Yanli being AGGRESSIVELY against it, and dragging JZX along with her, they’re left in peace.

tanoraqui

Oh man and Jin Ling has YOUNGER SIBLINGS in this...

Hey for u: Jiang Cheng/Wen Qing can accidentally happen while the Teens are trying to get everyone else to meet

Today at 8:42 AM

@professorsparklepants

I love this it's so goddamn wacky

tanoraqui

I just want teenager-based shenanigans ft. surprisingly competent teenagers and all the adults running around like chickens with their heads chopped off

professorsparklepants

Jingyi: why are you two more calm about this than the literal adults

Wen Yuan: have you met my dad?

tanoraqui

Also to be clear it is not at all hard to convince Wen Ning to join Team: Teenage Shenanigans, bc literally ANYONE in the Burial Mountain village would probably be down if you were like, “we’re engaged in a conspiracy to make Wei Wuxian fucking admit that he’s in love with that Lan guy who visits a couple times a year”

professorsparklepants

"This is my father, and this is his sugar daddy."

tanoraqui

I kinda wanna say he goes by “Wen Yuan” more often bc he’s 100% the baby of the entire remaining Wen clan there, but his adult name or w/e it’s called IS Wen Sizhui, because WWX asked LWJ if he had any suggestions and LWJ said this while maintaining eye contact

professorsparklepants

OH MY GOOOOOOD

tanoraqui

They meet LXC and he figures out what’s going on in like 4 minutes, despite the teens’ best attempts at obfuscation, and instead of calling anyone’s parents is like, “okay, I’m in”

professorsparklepants

#1 wingman...

tanoraqui

Jin Ling and Wen Yuan are definitely both traveling under false names, too? Wen Yuan obviously can’t admit to being a Wen and Jin Ling is making a privileged but slightly helicoptered teen’s rebellious bid for freedom

professorsparklepants

His dad is panicking at home and Yanli is like "boys need their freedom :)"

I saw a post forever ago about how Yanli would be the most hands off parent & Zixuan is an only child who would panic every time his kid fell down

tanoraqui

With a side order of “my mother is the only one who’ll say nice things about the Yiling Patriarch and she always looks sad when she does so I’m going to sneak into the Burial Mountain and either drag him out to see her or force my parents to come get me”

professorsparklepants

"I'm gonna beat up the Yiling Patriarch" "why" "he made my mom sad" "okay proceed"

tanoraqui

^ actual real conversation with WenYuan

professorsparklepants

A-Yuan then repeats the same thing to Wen Qing and she has the exact same answer, verbatim

tanoraqui

Side note: Wen Yuan has never been scared of the undead in his entire life, and probably this will lead to getting into severely life-threatening situations when he doesn’t have more backup than 2 other teenagers

professorsparklepants

Oh absolutely

professorsparklepants

He's so used to tuning out the sound of sentry corpses that one jumps on him and almost punches his lungs out

tanoraqui

Also what if he took WWX’s sword, so he looks like a proper normal cultivator - honestly, what if WWX gave him the sword when he turned 12, or whenever one customarily gives a child a sword in this world. He also has a flute stashed in his robe somewhere but he does know how to use both

tanoraqui

But also, while obviously it’s very important that this is the sword he inherited from his father, it’s never OCCURRED to him to, like, strongly associate it with WWX, in terms of “this would be a recognizable weapon”? Chenqing the flute, obviously, but WWX just left the sword on a shelf all the time

professorsparklepants

He's very good at fooling people into thinking he's a normal rogue cultivator until he busts out the flute

LOL YES

tanoraqui

So the first time someone looks at him and is like, “That is WWX’s sword” he achieves, like, “Who’s Morales? [NOT THAT DUMB]” levels of blank-brained

professorsparklepants

It like, doesn't even occur to him that this stick named whatever will be recognizable to people until it actually happens

"this is the Yiling Patriarch's sword!" "... I've never heard of him"

tanoraqui

“What sword?”

professorsparklepants

KDJAKSNJS

tanoraqui

“Oh, THIS sword? I...found it. In a stream.”

tanoraqui

Also...at some point...once the teens have admitted their identities to one another...and possibly gotten into a couple other increasingly public shenanigans...they run into a bunch of concerned people searching from the Jin or even Jiang sect - JC being there would be PERFECT - and Jin Ling is like, “aaahh, no, I don’t want to be dragged home... kidnap me.”

WY: what?

JL: pull out the flute, summon a couple corpses, shout that you’re the dread son of the Yiling Patriarch, and pretend to kidnap me

WY: ...yeah okay

AND THEN THEY DO THAT

professorsparklepants

The dumbass energy...... off the CHARTS

tanoraqui

They’re 15 and neither of them has ever faced consequences but in...actually not too different ways

They’re 15 and neither of them as ever faced consequences nor most of the real world

Oh my god is Lan Jingyi the most sensible person here

They’re going to DIE

professorsparklepants

JXHAKAJAKKQHSJA

JC and Yanli immediately see through this probably

"dumbass kid just doesn't want to go home. I'll break his legs."

tanoraqui

I think Yanli does but I have minimal faith in JC’s ability to think logically at any time

He’s still angry at WWX for leaving

professorsparklepants

Stomps to Yiling to demand his nephew back & wwx's like "lol, A-Yuan left two months ago"

Okay my shift is starting later

tanoraqui

/snort

Though, bold of you to assume that WWX isn’t also running around anxiously somewhere like “oh god, oh no, my son is missing; I must find him”

professorsparklepants

Sizhui is a responsible boy, I don't think he would leave without telling at least ONE person where he was going

tanoraqui

Ok but it was Wen Qing who thinks it’s good for WWX’s health to stop brooding and go run around like a headless chicken instead, optimally if he runs into his totally-not-a-boyfriend-Hahahaha-why-would-you-say-that

Alternately it was, like, Granny, which, ditto

No one on this mountain is going to stop WWX from going out to cause trouble and hopefully get laid, is my point

tanoraqui

Also, the cultivation world has been basically at peace for 13 years and the reason is that this is an ideal AU where JGY is dead and whenever trouble starts to stir politically, NHS and JYL meet eyes across the room and mentally Rock Paper Scissors over who has to manipulate everyone into calming the fuck down

Neither of them actually wants this job; they’re just good at it and recognize both those aspects in each other

professorsparklepants

LOLOLOL

That is.... so goddamn in character

tanoraqui

concept: JYL and NHS are friends and no one else understands it, or attributes it to JYL just being that nice, bc NHS still generally acts useless

professorsparklepants

Nhs actively wants to be useless and life is conspiring to make sure he can't

tanoraqui

a little less dramatically useless, but why ruin a good thing when you're having fun and it's useful

professorsparklepants

Lol

tanoraqui

but JYL fucking identified him as Actually Competent one time when he couldn't hide it, so now sometimes they get tea together and bitch about politics and stupid people

professorsparklepants

He's the only person who can correctly identify when she's talking shit about people, because it's VERY subtle and her brothers & husband are too busy thinking she hung the moon to notice

tanoraqui

JYL striding into Nie sect HQ (whatever it's called) and tossing her coat over a chair. "You would not BELIEVE what my brothers are doing now."

NHS: *probably knows, because he's found that the minor investment of effort in maintaining a very good spy network pays major dividends in helping him avoid greater work* *immediately sits up and pours her a cup of very expensive tea* Oh, girl, dish.

professorsparklepants

Question: are they also friends with lwj...

tanoraqui

yes but he's obviously not invited to hte political gossip sessions

professorsparklepants

I'm trying to imagine lwj making eye contact with them at some meeting his brother dragged him to and both of them struggling not to break into hysterics

tanoraqui

but they both know that he sneaks into Yiling to visit WWX a few times a year, and every single time, JYL sits him down within a couple weeks and aggressively debriefs him as to her brother's condition

professorsparklepants

I'm sure she tried to get him to take treats in

tanoraqui

for sure

it's hopeless, though, bc there's no really predicting WHEN he'll go? It's basically just "every 4-6 months when LWJ's resolve breaks"

professorsparklepants

Too bad she's not a stress quilter instead of a stress baker

tanoraqui

she gets him to go at an actual arranged time, bearing pork soup, like once, for WWX's 30th birthday or something

professorsparklepants

:)

tanoraqui

omg lit brain: LWJ of course is hte WORST for getting gossip, but JYL has pieced together a reasonable amount about the people her idiot baby brother (#2) is now living with. And she's mildly despairing as to idiot baby brother #1's ongoing refusal to get married and have an heir or three. So she, if not actively connives, then certainly siezes the first available opportunity to set Jiang Cheng up with Wen Qing

tanoraqui

basically, this au is PEAK romcom

tanoraqui

...also, for max happiness, i'd like to think that WWX made some strategic raids to rescue additional Wen refugees and bring them back, so there's a properly populated village and they didn't all just die

professorsparklepants

!!!

Good... Good thoughts

Good because 1. more people die and 2. The Yiling Patriarch will attack your village and steal your people away!

tanoraqui

(romcom being exclusively adults-focussed; the teens initiate it all but Jin Ling and Wen Yuan are both so delighted to have an Additional (But Cooler) Family Member that they comfortably cousinzone each other instantly)

professorsparklepants

*nice*

tanoraqui

...i feel like i keep characterizing Jin Ling as an only child, when really he ought to have a small horde of siblings

maybe they just...couldn't conceive more. shit happens. pregnancy is hard.

professorsparklepants

That happens sometimes

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: something sad (Resentment)

Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him.  A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ aka Izuku dies.

Characters:  Katsuki Bakugo

Fandom: My Hero Academia

WARNINGS! Major Character death, swearing, heavy angst, graphic descriptions of violence

Other parts in this AU: (Something Sad),  (Anger), (Grief) 

This is the direct sequel to (Implosion)

......

“Not many people get hit with a concussive blast of this strength and walk away will so few injuries.” Is what the paramedic that looks Katsuki over says, hand glowing a faint blue as he uses some sort of diagnostic quirk.

“It looks like you have a few cuts, bruising, strained muscles and sprained wrist from what I can see. I’d recommend getting a proper examination at the hospital but there’s nothing life-threatening here.” The medic continues.

The emergency doctor at the hospital confirms the diagnosis and shakes his head in disapproval, adding, “…bruising on your ribs and a fractured finger. No concussion, thankfully, but you’ll have a nasty bump on the back of your head. If your quirk didn’t make you naturally resistant to these sorts of shock-based blasts, you would be dead..”

…

After that, everyone is practically falling over each other to lecture him on how irresponsible and reckless he is.

..

His mum arrives and there is a lot of shouting which just pisses him off.

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO REACT WHEN I GET WOKEN UP AT ONE IN THE MORNING BY POLICE TELLING ME THAT MY IDIOT SON, WHO SHOULD BE ASLEEP, IS IN HOSPITAL!!”

 “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!

Then there is the quiet disappointment he gets from his father when his mum is done yelling which only fuels his resentment.  

“I don’t understand why you did it son. Did you want to get into that fight? Or was it a mistake? Please. We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Eventually, he finally snaps, “I fucking felt like it! That’s why I did it! And you know what, I’d do it again.”

It wasn’t like he could or even wanted to explain that he’d jumped out his window to wander the streets at midnight because he had had a bad dream and his All Might poster had looked at him funny. That the rage and anger were preferable to that sinking empty feeling that had turned his every waking moment into a pointless repeat of everyday routines and useless interactions.  That every time he let himself pause and reflect, Deku’s stupid smiling face was mocking him from the afterlife.

Next, he spends an hour with Senior Officer Watanabe recounting every possible detail from his stroll through the streets to his climactic fight with Lanky, Tiny and Grease-Hair.

“Well, you definitely don’t do things in half measures kid. So far we have private and public property damage, unlicensed quirk usage, quirk usage with the intent to harm, vigilantly activity, assault...”

“Assault! Why the hell is that on the list. Those bastards started it.”

“You can’t go around beating people up no matter how good your intentions are!”

“So, you wanted me to just watch!”

“Yes!” A long breath, “I know it can be hard but you need to wait for the pros. You got lucky this time but what if things had been different? You had misread the situation. What if you had been badly injured? What if you had accidentally injured the victim or killed someone? There is a reason we make people get a license for Hero work. Seison Masuyama is a B-rank villain.”

“B rank? He wasn’t that strong.”

 “His quirk, Kinetic-Force, collects kinetic energy and releases it in one overpowered attack. It’s deadly to most people. You were lucky he had already used it once that day and that you were resilient enough to withstand it."

After multiple repeats of the ‘you’re lucky you’re not dead,’ with a side order of ‘it’s a good thing you’re still a minor because you could go to jail for this,’ he gets to go home.

It is three in the morning by the time he arrives back at the apartment, two exhausted parents in tow, having been issued an ‘official warning,’ an order to complete 100 hours of community service and instructions to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. He has never felt angrier or more resentful.

A days later and he is back at school, wasting his time watching clocks and avoiding classmates. 

Nothing had changed.

…

…

…

The car screeches to a stop at the school gates, throwing Katsuki forward in his seat. His mum turns to fix him with a stern glare, eyes narrow.

“If you’re not waiting right here by the gate when I come to pick you up or so help me I’ll be escorting you to and from your classroom from the rest of your school life,” she threatens.

“Lay off you old bat,” Katsuki snaps as was becoming routine since his mum had started driving him the short distance to school, “I got it the first million times.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”  A finger is pointed at his nose, waving in an almost menacing fashion. “Remember. Here. School Gates. 4:00pm. Don’t you dare think about ditching again.”

 Katsuki sneers and kicks open the car door, turning to slams it shut with as much force as possible in retaliation. He stalks through the gates, shouldering his way through a group of loitering students.  They all scatter when they recognise him. In some ways, he prefers dealing with the anger and yelling of his mum than his father’s quiet disappointment. That doesn’t stop it from being annoying as hell.

A spike of pain runs through his hand from where he must have used a little too much force on the door. Maybe he should take his father up on those kickboxing classes. Sure, he had practised punching after reading a bunch of online guides, but reading and solo practice were completely different when compared with real actual fighting.  That was assuming he was going to be getting into more real fights.  He opens and closes his bandaged fist, feeling a slight sting in his wrist and fingers. He glares. Four days on and he can still feel the echo of adrenalin.  The thrill of righteous anger had been so much more satisfying than the directionless rage he was accustomed to. It had rekindled some of that fire that drove him to be the best, to win, chasing away the sickening emptiness which had been dogging his every waking step.

He wants to feel that again…He wants to do something other than listlessly go through the same daily motions as he drifts towards his now uncertain future. 

“Hey Bakugō!” 

He keeps walking, ignoring whatever loser classmates wanted to talk to him.

“HEY!”

A hand lands on his shoulder and Katsuki twitches, a hairs breath away from spinning and firing a blast point-blank into the pest’s face. Instead, he stops and deliberately turns to glower at the pathetic piece of trash behind him. Murata Taheiji from his homeroom is standing there, one hand on his hip, flanked by two other boys he doesn’t know the names of. Two more appear to stand in front of him, blocking his way. They are all puffed up like they think they’re hot shit. Katsuki scoffs. Are these failures really trying to bully him? HIM!? 

“How about you get the fuck out of my way and go find a first year to pick on. You know, someone more on your level.”

That gets him an irritated scowl that transforms into a patronising grin, “You were always such a stuck up prick Bakago…Acting so high and mighty all the time. Not anymore, I know the truth. You’re just like the rest of us.”

“Huh?” he drawls, dragging out the sound, turning so he is facing the boy, “What the fuck are you on about.”

“My dad works for Musutafu police dispatch and he told me something real interesting yesterday.” A dramatic pause, “He said that you got arrested a few nights ago.” There is a laugh that is echoed by the four surrounding him. By now the confrontation has garnered the attention of several onlookers, who are slowly drifting closer.

“All that shit about being a Hero and you got arrested. What’d you do? Steal some candy from a convenience store? We all know you don’t have money.”

Around them, the growing audience is eyeing him with varying levels of eager anticipation like they think he’ll break down and start crying because of some dumb-ass insults. Damn, if that doesn’t just piss him off. How dare these losers think him that weak.

“Don’t compare me to your loser selves,” he dismisses aggressively, making to turn and forcefully elbow his way past. He is stopped by Murata’s hand which is still on this shoulder.

“You know what I think. I think you’re all talk.”

Katsuki stills, letting the words sink and curdle in his stomach. In one short move, he turns and steps in close to Murata so they are almost nose to nose.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he warns.  The other boy tenses, looking like he wants to say something else equally stupid. If he remembers correctly Murata has some sort of muscle-enhancer, reflex quirk. One of the only worthwhile quirks in the school.

Katsuki jerks his elbow up and around in a quick jab. It smacks into the loser’s face. Crack. Guess having fast reflexes didn’t make a difference when you never saw the blow coming.

There is a cry of surprised pain and shouts of alarm from the peanut gallery. The other boy falls back, tripping over his own feet. It is ridiculously simple to lift a leg and deliver a kick to the stomach, not even a strong kick, so his failed bully thuds onto the ground, tossing up a small puff of sand. Unlike the fight in the ally, there is no rush of excitement, no spike of anger or adrenaline. No exhilaration. He is just irritated and maybe a bit disappointed. That’s what he gets for expecting anything out of the pathetic losers that went Aldera Middle School. They were more annoying than anything else.  

Murata rolls around in the dirt, wheezing, trying to draw breath. He can almost imagine Deku running up to complain about his violent tendencies or sprout some shit about Hero’s needing to protect people like Murata didn’t ask for it when he decided to try his luck bullying someone obviously stronger than him.

The reminder of Deku sours his already shitty mood.

“Ah…you broke my nose. YOU BOKE IT…ah…it hurts. Do something!” The idiot calls to his equally idiotic friends as he tries to stop blood from pouring down his face.

Katsuki gazes coolly at the boy before directing his attention at the four other ‘bullies’ standing frozen around him.

“You extras got something else to add to that?” With Murata out of the game, the rest of the pathetic group shuffles about uncertainly.

“Ah…we’re good,” The tallest one says nervously, “Sorry about that Bakugō. No hard feelings right?”

He scoffs.

One of the boys moves forward to pull Murata upright, kneeling and pulling out a tissue to help stem the flow of blood. “Crap. I…I think Murata needs to go to the nurse. This looks serious.” There are a few more apprehensive glances in his direction like the other boys think he’ll insist on continuing the ‘fight’-ha! like this has been anything near a fight- until they are all bloody messes on the ground. Kaksuki rolls his eyes. As if he has the patience to deal with any more of these losers.

“Cowards,” he mutters, shoving past. The crowd of students who had gathered to watch the failed confrontation, scramble to get out of his way. A strong breeze rushes through the school’s courtyard, drawing attention to how quiet it has suddenly gotten. Barely audible whispers follow in his wake and he can feel many sets of eyes on his back, watching.

“He always did have a bad attitude.” They murmur.

“Guess he’s a real delinquent now.”

“…did you hear what Murata said. Do you think Bakugō actually got arrested?”

“That’s got to be fake right? Murata is full of hot air.”

“No way. I believe it. You don’t have to share a class with him, I’m telling you, Bakugō’s gone nuts.”

“Kind of scary when you think about it. With a quirk like that...”

He doesn’t know why they’re all so shocked. This isn’t the first fight he has gotten into on school grounds. Okay, so maybe he’d held off doing any real harm before now, well aware that U.A. would probably check his school record. It had never mattered to him because there was no point in beating up weaklings when he was obviously superior. Except for Deku…the only person he had ever really hurt, the only person he could get away with hurting without repercussions. And now he feels like extra shit. God, what a huge farce it had all been. Kaksuki clenches his fist and growls, wondering if it isn’t too late to ditch and go find somewhere secluded to blow off steam. Anything to escape this feeling of frustration.

 He doesn’t have time to make a proper decision because news of his ‘fight’ had obviously spread to the staffroom. One of the second year homeroom teachers comes barrelling out of the school’s front entrance, eyes immediately landing on him.

“What happened!” Their eyes move past him to the bloody Murata, “Go wait in the principles office. Now.”

Well, he didn’t want to deal with his annoying classmates anyway. He stalks away, the sounds of the teacher fussing over Murata growing fainter behind him. When he arrives, the principal’s office is empty and he flings himself down into one of the comfy couches, irritated. The bell for homeroom goes off and Kaksuki remains sprawled across the couch, arm across his face to block out the light and his view of the clock slowly ticking away.  

Just as he begins to contemplate leaving, Principle Fukuhara comes strolling into the room. 

“ Bakugō,” the man lets out an exasperated sigh, “Sit up please.”

Katsuki moves his arm to peek out and glare at the man, deliberately ignoring the instruction.

“I just finished talking to Ms Yuki and the school’s nurse.  You broke Murata Taheiji’s nose. I hope you realise how serious this situation is and that there will be major consequences. Aldera Middle School does not tolerate this sort of violence on its grounds.”

Silence. That was a fucking lie. Slowly, Katsuki pulls himself upright, meeting the man’s hard stare with his own. 

“Well, do you have anything to say for yourself and your disgraceful behaviour..”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, “The idiot was asking for it.”

Obviously, it's the wrong response going by how the skin tightens around the man’s eyes, “I see...I’m sorry you feel that way. Up until now, our school has been more than lenient. We have overlooked your shameful behaviour these last few weeks because we wanted to give you time to settle after going through such as tragic incident. However, I am afraid that this time you have gone too far. Your parents will be notified. You’ll see the school councillor. You will be staying back for after school detention. Since this is your first major incident we…”

“First?” He cuts the man off. He is sick of hearing the moron’s voice. “Hahaha and people say you don’t have a sense of humour.” He laughs an unpleasant laugh which increases in volume until he is almost shouting.

 “What sort of shit hole are you running? Three years I’ve been beating up the dumb idiots that come here and now you decide to care. Why is that huh? Is it because I’m no longer going to put this shitty place on the map and become a famous hero! HA!”

He lets his voice quieten, sneering “I’ll never be a hero so you’re shit out of luck.” Finally saying it out loud is like throwing a bucket of water over the embers of an already struggling fire. It hurts deep in his chest. The expression of shocked disbelief is almost worth it.

“Thanks for proving what a worthless profession it is,” he finishes with another hash laugh, rage simmering under his skin. When he tries to stand and leave a hand lands on his shoulder, pushing him back down.

The principal, who still looks somewhat stunned at his sudden outburst, orders, “Sit back down Bakugō! I am far from finished.”

Why do people always feel the need to grab him. He is so fucking sick of everyone pulling and tugging on him, trying to control him and hold him down. Katsuki turns slowly, that simmering rage pulsing, running down his limbs. Pop pop pop go his hands. He feels as explosive fire gathering in behind his eyes and in his shadowy stare. It is not the dramatic, adrenaline-induced anger he had felt when preparing for the ally fight. No, this is a dark burning rage, fuelled by his growing resentment.

“Touch me again,” he growls, low and intimidating, “and I’ll kill you.”

The principal snatches his hand back like he has just been burnt. A poignant silence follows in the wake of his threat.

“Suspension,” the man says, swallowing,  “You’re suspended. I’m calling your parents right now.” And is it just him or does he look genuinely worried? There is even a hint of fear in his wrinkled face. Katsuki takes vindictive joy in the achievement. Finally…finally the worthless morons are seeing him, truly seeing him and not whatever Bakugō -delusion they’d all cooked up in their heads.

[the-young-and-forgotten]

A Glimpse Through The Years - First Year

| Masterlist |

1st of September 1991 - 1st Year:

You fall through the magic barrier, your heavy trunk thunking onto the floor. You lay beside it, physically exhausted from dragging it 200 metres. “I’m only eleven, god knows why they have to make it so goddamn heavy.” You grumble under your breath. 

A figure pops into your view, extending a hand to help you up. “It’s called Slave Labour love, my parents use it all the time.” You slowly realise who it is and laugh. The sun behind him lights up his platinum blond hair, making you squint to see. “Put your hair away Malfoy, before you permanently blind me.” 

He scowls at you but helps you up off the ground. “It only took me an hour to get it like this!” 

As you walk by with your trunk, you lift a hand and mess up his hair as best you could. “An hour wasted, i’d say.” 

He shakes his head before running after you, a stupid grin on his face. 

On the train, You scope it out for the best compartment you can find. After a few minutes, you pick one. Inside, there are two brutish boys already sitting in there. They give you the side-eye as you and Draco shuffle around on the seat opposite them. 

Once settled, Draco is quick to introduce himself. “My names Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.” He uses that ponce, arrogant voice that always makes you roll your eyes. You mutter your name when they inquire and give theirs in return. Not that you cared. You are not hanging around with two idiots who activate Dracos arrogant demeanour. 

All of a sudden, Dracos droning voice falls silent. You follow his gaze towards a boy with unruly hair walking by with a couple of red-heads. 

Draco's eyes narrow and he speaks with such contempt that even you are shocked.

“Potter.” He spits out the word, like it was something disgusting. 

“Potter who? Isn’t that the guy who you saw in Madam Malkin’s?”

“Yeah.” 

Suddenly he stands and gestures to the boys sitting across from you. “Let’s go introduce ourselves to them eh? Y/n you coming?” 

You sigh. “I’m fine here thanks. I’d rather be reading my book.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

After a little bit, he comes back, extremely agitated. He plops down beside you, facing the window. His arms are crossed and his legs are drawn in.

“I guess it went horribly?” He nods.

You sigh. “Maybe if you hid your hideous face, you guys would be friends.” You think you detect a flicker of a smile before you turn back to your book.

You stumble off the train, your whole body aching from sitting for so long. Draco actually falls but picks himself up quickly, looking around to check if anyone had seen.

You make your way towards the boats, trying to grab one with Draco. But the crowd pulls you two apart and you get stuck with two jabbering bimbos.

You learn that these two bimbos are called Blaise and Theo and they aren't actually jabbering bimbos. The two boys make you laugh numerous times, especially when Theo falls into the lake (you may or may not have pushed him). 

When you step off the boat you are all acting a bit crazy. You say goodbye to Blaise and Theo as you look for Draco. You finally find him, picking a fight with the Potter boy. You go to break it up, but you’re beaten to it by Professor McGonagall. 

McGonagall pulls them apart then proceeds to announce all the rules (which you zone out of) and before you know it, the rest of the first years are surging forward. You pull Draco back, meaning to talk. Crabbe and Goyle fall back too, loyally sticking to his side. “Can you tell those two to buzz off?” You mutter to Draco. He rolled his eyes but complied. 

“Whatcha want?” He asks. “You can’t start fights with Potter!” You say “I just asked him to be my friend!” “Oh yeah sure. That’s why you literally said that he shouldn’t hang out with that Weasley boy.” 

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, maybe that was a bit mean.” 

This time, you roll your eyes. “Let’s just get to the Sorting Ceremony.” 

Both you and Draco get sorted into Slytherin. You grin at each other and sit down at your house table. Dumbledore gets up to give his speech you internally groan, your parents always complained about these. Halfway through the speech, Draco turns back to you and makes his hand do the talking movement as he mouths ‘blah blah blah’ over and over again. You snort into your hand, shaking with suppressed laughter. 

When Dumbledore finally shuts up, you dig into your food. The food was delicious, tasting 10 times better than it ever did in the muggle world. You can’t help but stuff your face. Draco notices this and mocks you. It’s his own fault that chick mysteriously ended up in his hair. 

When the feast is finally over, your Prefect brings you down to the dungeons. Along the way, you marvel at the whole interior of the castle. Draco nudges you and shows you the painting of a knight struggling to get on his donkey. You grin at each other and make fun of each and every portrait you come across. 

Down in the Slytherin dorms, the Prefect keeps droning on about house pride. “He sounds a little like you when you’re being arrogant.” you whisper to Draco. He turns to you, his expression practically screaming hurt and mock rage. “I do NOT sound like that!!!” His face morphs into a slightly nervous one “Do I?” You just shake your head and head up to your dorm, eager for sleep. 

You are woken up by the chattering of your roommates. You slam a spare pillow over your head, groaning about how early it was. 

“Get up L/n.” said one of the girls. “Malfoy wants to see you.” 

You roll your eyes at Dracos dramatics but hurry to get dressed and meet him.

When you get into the Common Room, Dracos is there waiting impatiently. “Finally!” He groans “It only took you forever!” You roll your eyes and muss up his slicked-back hair. “The hair Draco! That's it! That’s why Potter won’t be friends with you!”

He looks at you incredulously. “Seriously? The hair now?” You nod solemnly, before breaking into laughter. “You are never gonna let this go are you?” you shake your head, still giggling. 

“Ugh let’s just get to class.” He sighs. That immediately dampens your mood. You physically deflate, complaining. “We just had such a long ride yesterday and now school? Uggghhh.” 

He grabs your hand and pulls you towards the Great Hall. “Complain when the day is actually done.”

The first half of the year passed in a blur. Crabbe and Goyle were really starting to annoy you. Acting like Dracos bodyguards. Not that he hated it, quite the opposite really. They stuck around so much that it was near impossible to spend time with Draco. 

It was one of those few times you managed to steal him away for a few hours. You were silently fuming. You had been his best friend for years and now just to talk to him was like booking a doctors appointment! 

Draco picks up on your mood but doesn’t say anything. A few minutes pass and he can’t help himself. “Are you okay Y/n?” “Peachy.” you answer in the most monotone voice you can muster. 

“You don’t sound peachy.” “Only took you 2 hours to finally figure that out.” “Well, I’m sorry for inquiring on how you are!” He stops in his tracks and turns to face you, speaking softly now. “What’s wrong?” 

You stop too, extremely mad. “Have you ever thought that maybe I am feeling a bit left out whenever you go off with those trolls you call friends?” “they’re not trolls!” you cross your arms, your stance spitting sass. “Their grades beg to differ.” 

He throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. “SERIOUSLY! What is wrong?” “I practically just told you! Now, work the rest out for yourself!” you push past him, storming down the corridor. A couple seconds later, you sneak a look behind you. Draco is clenching at his hair and staring up at the ceiling like it would give him the answer. 

You turn back around shaking your head. ‘Maybe if I- no, don’t think about it.’ you force yourself to keep walking no matter how much you wanted to go back. 

The christmas break was quite boring. Draco went home whilst you and Theo were stuck at Hogwarts. You might’ve fought with Draco before he left, but you did miss him. A lot. More than you wanted to admit. 

It was only a few days after everyone left and you were already bored out of your mind. You and Theo were sitting next to each other in awkward silence. The months you had spent not talking and hanging around in different friendship groups had made things extremely awkward between the two of you. 

“So, why are you stuck at Hogwarts.” he asks, trying to start a conversation. “My parents kept me here because they want me to refine my chess skills.” you wink at him and he grins. “Well I miss L/n, happen to be a master chess player so you’ve come to the right place.” the two of you scooch over to the chessboard and play game after game, after game after game. 

By the end of the holidays, you were quite sick of Chess. You sat there, dying of boredom, playing yet another game. “Theo, when this game is over I will NEVER look at chess right again!” He laughs and looks at something behind you. “Well, I think I found something that’ll cheer you up.” Extremely curious, you turn around. “DRACO!” you scream running to give him a hug (you had apparently completely forgotten about your fight). “Please save me, Theo’s chess games are extremely boring!” “HEY!” Theo shouts indignantly as you and Draco start laughing. 

It had been a few weeks after Draco had come back. He was hanging out with you considerably more, just not as often as he used to. But you’d settle for this. You two were enjoying each other’s company and laughing like the old times. 

Suddenly, he pulls you behind a corner and peeks out. You peek too and notice Harry, Ron and Hermione walking towards Hagrid's Hut. You roll your eyes. Not this. “Draco they’re just-” “Ssshhh! Somethings… up.” he narrows his eyes suspiciously. 

You knew right before he did what he was just about to do. You put a hand on his shoulder to stop him “Draco, please!” He shoves your hand off his shoulder “Wait here, I’ll be back soon.” 

But you don’t wait. As soon as he walks away, so do you. Back to the dorms. You’re not waiting around for him to get in trouble for snooping. 

Hours pass and you grow extremely worried. Where is he? What happened? Is he okay? Blaise and Theo try to help to take your worries off your mind, but nothing works. “Something bad has happened to him guys, he’s never gone this long!” “Y/n, it’s okay! He’s probably caught in some stupid situation with Potter he can’t get out of!” Theo tries to reassure you. It just stresses you out even more. “Like that’s gonna help” Blaise mumbles. “Oh yea! Well you try then!” 

Blaise and Theo glare at each other before Blaise looks at you. “Read a book on the couch and wait for him to come back, it won’t be long, I promise.” 

The two of them head up to their dorm, leaving you alone to wait for Draco. 

He finally comes back in. Bursting through the door, soaked and looking extremely traumatised. You sit up quickly. “Draco! Where were you? What happened?” 

He plops down beside you on the couch. He sighs reluctantly “I should’ve listened to you. All I got was trouble. I’m so sorry Y/n, I wasn’t thinking.” You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell you the whole story but he just leans into you. “Never ever go into that forest okay? It’s…” he shivers, eyes clouding “Disgustingly terrifying.” 

You give him a big hug “And this is why we are NEVER getting into trouble again are we?” He chuckles “It’s not a promise but I’ll try.”

It’s finally nearing the end of the year. The rivalry between Draco and Harry has calmed down a bit since the adventure Harry and his friends took just a few days ago. All assignments were handed in, all spells learnt, all potions completed. 

I mean sure, you still had quite a few run-ins with Potter and his friends but at least they weren’t whipping out their wands and practically shooting ‘avada kedavra’ at each other.  

By the time the End of Year Feast rolled around, you were growing more and more reluctant to go. Hogwarts had become your second home. But you had your family waiting for you and you missed them more than ever. 

At the Feast, Draco sits beside you absolutely glowing with excitement. “Slytherins totally gonna win this year! I mean, look how many points we have!” He raises his voice slightly and stands so everyone can hear. “Suck on that Potter!” You roll your eyes and pull him back into his seat, amused by his antics. “Seems like you’re still the petty, competitive boy I made friends with seven years ago.” 

He scoffs a little. “Like that's ever gonna change.” ‘I hope not’ you think, looking back at the staff table. 

Dumbledore stands up, making his way to the podium. “Here we go..” you hear Draco whisper. Your mouth twitches into a little smirk. 

As usual, his speech was boring as hell. Slytherin banners turn into big red lions as Draco groans and slams his head onto the table. It was exactly like you had expected. 

The whole Slytherin table is in a bad mood throughout the Feast. You never knew people could care so much about points. To you, it was just a dumb way to get kids to do their homework.

You and Draco walk back to the dungeons together. “I still can’t believe Gryffindor won..” He groans for about the millionth time that evening. “it was quite obvious.” You say. He perks up. “How?” “THINK Draco! The idiots went into a highly dangerous area, survived and saved the Wizarding World from evil. Again.” You think about it for a second, stopping in your tracks. “Granted, they probably should’ve been expelled but thats beside the point.” 

You continue down into the dungeons, Draco running behind you, trying to catch up. “Maybe we can get the student body to sign a petition and get them expelled!” “Dray, thats stupid.” “Oh yeah, I forgot. Everybody likes Potter.” he spits out the name, like it was a nasty curse. 

“Well, everybody except us.” 

You consider this and decide to push his buttons a little. “Well, I don’t know. I think I’m really starting to fancy Potter.” He stares at you in disgust “You have just been officially unfriended. Get lost.” 

Your laughter echoes down the corridor, several portraits reprimanding you. 

You wake up once again to the obnoxious yelling of your roommates. Luckily you had packed your trunk last night, so you take it out and run downstairs. 

Draco was waiting for you, ready to go home. 

You arrive at Hogsmeade Station. You hurry onto the train, snagging the same compartment you had used at the start of this year. Draco settles down beside you. “So, going home huh.” 

“Yeah!” you exclaim. “I’m so excited to see my parents again! I really miss them.” 

“At least one of us does.” you give him a quick hug. “They’ll be proud of you Dray, who wouldn’t?” He smiles weakly and quickly changes the subject. 

At last, the train pulls into Kings Cross Station. You unwillingly step off the train, knowing full well that you weren’t gonna see Hogwarts and Draco for at least 3 months. 

You turn to face each other and smile. You pull him into a big hug, squeezing him extra tight. 

“See you next year?”

“Yeah”

“And please Draco, take care of your hair! Maybe your face too”

He laughs before heading towards his parents. They look at you with loathing before turning around and stalking off, noses in the air. 

Draco looks back one more time and gives you a little wave, you wave back, smiling a little. You find you parents and walk out through the magical barrier, back into the muggle world.

Taglist? @just-a-belgian-girl​ @loonyvee​ @kashishwrites​ 

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[elsanna-shenanigans]

April Contest Submission #4: Stupid For You

Words: ca. 6,100 Setting: Modern AU Lemon: No CW: None

Anna adjusts her car visor to block out as much of the sun as possible. Just because the weather feels nice enough to keep her windows down, doesn’t mean she’ll allow the sun cook her through the windshield.

It’s 2:25 PM on a Friday. Back in college, she would have been powering through her final class of the week, racing back to her dorm on her longboard, changing into her pajamas, and replaying the entire Mass Effect trilogy for the fifth time. Now, she spends it idling in the parking lot of West Arendelle Elementary, breathing in exhaust fumes from other idling cars, and pitifully swiping through a dating app.

And to be honest, she might like this routine a little more.

But only because, in a couple of minutes the bell will ring and her favorite ten-year-old will burst through the front doors, skip down to her car, and tap on the passenger windows with both hands.

Not that…she knows any other ten-year-olds, she only knows this one. She doesn’t have like a top ten list of favorite children.

Anyway yeah.

Anna presses against the corner of a parking sticker peeling off at the bottom of her windshield, knowing she’ll have to get a new one soon. The sound of her phone buzzing grabs her attention, and a little bit of hope rises in her as she checks the notification. Unfortunately, it’s just a text from her mother saying not to park behind her when she gets back home.

Anna grumbles, “I swear there’s like zero lesbians in this entire freaking city.”

She’s saved from her petty lamenting by the forementioned bell, and suddenly the barren entrance of the elementary school is buzzing with activity as children pour out of the doors in droves. Some are running, some are walking slowly with their group of friends, but only one of them is skipping.

Or at least Anna could only see one skipping since she wasn’t focusing on any other kid.

Gleefully making her way to Anna’s car is a little girl in a bright-blue skirt, a clean white polo, and a messy braid. Her hands are clutching the straps of her glittery backpack and her lunch box is hanging on for dear life around her neck.

Serah Langford, the self-proclaimed “cooliest” ten year-old in Arendelle.

Serah predictably taps her knuckles against the passenger window and Anna rolls it down. “What’s the password?” she asks.

“Fart Sniffer,” Serah says confidently.

Anna shakes her head, “That was last week’s password. What’s this week’s?”

Serah looks off in the distance and purses her lips. A second later, she says, “Alright I said it!”

“Say it out loud.”

Serah rolls her eyes and says in a dramatically bored voice, “Anna de Milo is the greatest, prettiest, most wonderful babysitter in the world and deserves a million dollars.”

Anna unlocks the door and grins, “That’s the one!”

The embarrassed fourth-grader shuffles into the car, placing her bag by her feet, her lunch box in her lap, and her phone plugged into the AUX cord. Anna would be offended if they didn’t have the exact same taste in music.

A babysitting job wasn’t at the top of her list after she graduated, but when months passed and she exhausted all the search results for “Writer” on Indeed, she was starting to get desperate. Her mother advised her to look for any job so at the very least she could have a steady source of income while she continued to look for writing gigs.

That’s when she found Bizzybee.

Bizzybee is a company that prides itself on being “Tinder for babysitters”, which is a horrible vision statement but she kept from mentioning that during her interview. After a surprisingly long assessment process, Anna was placed into their system and she was free to take on any babysitting/housesitting job she wanted based on the profile of the parent and their needs. Everyone started with the same hourly rate, but with enough good reviews she would be eligible for raises.

The first five families she worked for weren’t a good fit for different reasons (one of the fathers actually tried to make a move on her, which is an entirely different, creepier story). She was beginning to lose hope until she stumbled on the profile of a recently divorced mother named Elsa Langford.

From the very first interview with Elsa, Anna knew she’d finally found the right babysitting job for her. She and Serah hit it off right away, and they worked out a Monday-Friday schedule which allowed Anna to continue searching for jobs while still getting great hours.

Six months later and, despite a couple of job offers, Anna decided to stay on as Serah’s babysitter. It was risky and not at all the path she set out for herself after college, but she found herself enjoying babysitting much more than she thought she would. And because of that, she stayed.

Well…that, and another reason.

Anna snuck a peek inside the lunch box at a red light and frowned at the unopened bag of cookies inside. “Seriously?! I thought you liked Chips Ahoy!”

“Only the chewy ones,” Serah argued.

“They can get chewy if you dip them in milk.” Anna waved the bag obnoxiously close to the little girl’s face. “These things are expensive, you know.”

“They’re $20 on Amazon if you buy them in bulk.”

“$20 is still a lot of money.” The light’s turned green, so Anna has to open the bag with her teeth. When she does so successfully, she pours a couple of the cookies right into her mouth. Chewing with righteous indignation, she says, “You know what you can buy with $20?”

“Dinner with my mom?”

Anna almost chokes on the cookies.

She hears Serah giggling up a storm while handing her a water bottle to keep from dying. After downing half the bottle, Anna takes a deep breath and gets back into the center of her lane to ensure neither of them is going to die. “Serah! What did I tell you about saying that kinda stuff while I’m driving?!”

Serah bounces proudly in her seat, “Well maaaaybe if you didn’t have a crush on my mom, I wouldn’t have to bring it up.”

“It’s not…I’m not…” Anna slumps in her chair, wondering why she even bothers denying it. “Whatever.”

Yes, she has a big, stupid gay crush on the mom of the kid she’s babysitting. But have you seen Elsa Langford? She’s gorgeous. Pale skin, light blonde hair always in a neat, tight ponytail, eyes like calm pools of water, and a killer body she worked tirelessly on after giving birth to Serah. Anna had to drink three glasses of water just to get through the interview with her.

But there’s nothing to it, and nothing’s gonna happen anyway. It’s just a crush.

A stupid, dumb, big, stupid, fleeting, doesn’t-mean-anything, stupid crush on a stupid, sexy mom.

It’s stupid.

[Line Break]

Anna pulls right into the driveway of the Langford’s small, one-story house. It’s in the middle of a long suburbian row of houses that look nearly identical in their mundanity, but this one always stands out to Anna. Not because she’s been to this house countless times, but also because it’s got a vibrant feel to it; like you can feel two main characters live here. Serah skips over to her front door with Anna close behind. She notices the grass is getting a little tall and wonders if Elsa might need some help mowing it this weekend.

She unlocks the front door and Serah immediately takes off her shoes by the front door, places her lunch box on the kitchen table, and hums to herself while she walks to her room. The schedule used to be on the fridge, but by this point Anna’s memorized it.

Make a light snack for Serah, help her with her homework before dinner’s done, clean around the house (that’s not a requirement, Anna just does it), make sure she doesn’t watch the next episode of Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix yet, and then kick back until Elsa gets home. In between this time, Serah continues to tease her about her crush.

It’s been like that for weeks now, ever since Serah stole her phone one day and read the text Kristoff sent to her about Elsa. The subsequent conversation about what a “MILF” was didn’t exactly help things either.

This time, however, is different. Around 7 PM, while they’re watching an episode of American Ninja Warrior, Serah says something that doesn’t sound like a joke.

“She’d say yes, you know.”

“What are you talking about?” Anna asks cautiously.

“If you asked my mom out, she’d say yes.”

Unsure of how she’s supposed to react, Anna goes with an uncomfortable snort/laugh, “Wh- stop it. Stop kidding around, that’s…that’s silly.”

Serah shrugs like she didn’t say something crazy, and then she proceeds to say something even crazier, “She talks about you all the time.”

“Well yeah, I mean duh. I’m the babysitter,” Anna says like that’s supposed to be her superhero identity.

“No, she doesn’t talk about babysitting stuff.”

Finally, unable to help her curiosity, Anna asks, “What does she talk about then?”

Of course, she doesn’t get a chance to hear the answer. The front door unlocks and the woman they were just talking about arrives from work. Serah rushes to greet her mom and Anna stays sitting to let them spend their mother-daughter time together. And also because, like usual, she’s trying to figure out how to greet Elsa.

She decides on a cheerful “Hi!” followed by asking how work went; it’s casual and unassuming, but shows she cares about her. With that game plan prepared, she takes a quick breath, stands up, and walks over to the happy, little family.

“Hi!” she says with a practiced wave of her hand, though her voice is a little higher pitched than she’d like it to be.

Elsa’s clearly tired by the look of her, but when she smiles at Anna it feels like she’s genuinely happy to see her. Which of course makes Anna’s stomach do backflips, especially when Elsa walks over to her and gives her a hug. Even after taking off her heels, the exhausted banker still has a couple of inches on her.

“How are you?” she asks with her sweet, caring voice.

Anna tries to ignore the faint, flowery scent of perfume on Elsa’s neck, and the intrusive thought of wanting to hold her until all of Elsa’s troubles melt away. “Doing good,” she finally answers with her voice still an octave too high.

Elsa pulls away far too soon, keeping Anna at arm’s length while the younger woman is trying her best to pretend she doesn’t want to know how those lips would feel against hers. “Well let me write you a check and you can head out.”

What? No! Thinking fast, she replies, “No, you look exhausted. You can just rest, you don’t need to pay me right away.” Which is a lie, she has bills due next week.

“No I’d feel terrible if I let you go empty-handed. Trust me, it’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Ms. Langford, it’s okay. I’m in no rush tonight. Give yourself a minute to breathe, at least.”

Elsa frowns, but whatever she’s about to say gets interrupted by a long yawn. “Okay fine, if you can give me half an hour, I’ll have your check ready by then.”

“Sounds perfect!” Anna squeaks.

“And again, you don't have to call me Ms. Langford. Elsa’s fine.”

Elsa pats her on the shoulder and walks over to her room, Anna gets a glimpse of it before the door shuts and she can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be in Elsa’s room one day. Her shameful thought is interrupted by someone bumping her hip.

She looks down and sees Serah with a smug grin on her face.

“Oh hush,” Anna says.

[Line Break]

Anna hates taking breaks, and she especially hates days off. Not just because that’s one less day she gets to see Elsa, but also because that’s who she is as a person. Days she isn’t working provide zero structure, and she forgets how to be a human being without a structure.

The weekends, then, are a tumultuous time for her. If she doesn’t have pre-made plans with her friends, she’ll spend the days thinking about doing everything, inevitably end up doing nothing, and then dragging herself out of the house to do something.

This particular Saturday, that “something” happens to be grocery shopping. With a list that only has “Eggs?” on it, she ventures through every single aisle, wondering if she could get herself hungry enough to buy whatever she’s currently looking at.

So far, aside from the eggs, there’s only one other thing in her cart. And it’s not even for her.

“Pop-Tarts…I don’t know, they might sound good later.” She reaches to grab a box of the frosted strawberry ones but waves it off at the last second. Maybe the next aisle will have something she thinks absentmindedly as her cart almost hits the person in front of her.

Who somehow happens to be Elsa.

“Hi! Hey! Wow hi!” Anna says while Elsa looks at her like she’s genuinely startled. “H-hey there, Ms. Langford.”

After registering that the person yelling at her isn’t a threat, Elsa smiles. “Anna! It’s so wonderful to see you.” She looks as if she’s going to take a step towards Anna, but changes her mind at the last second.

Unfortunately, Anna took that as a cue to also step forward and didn’t move back fast enough. So now, she’s just standing between both carts like she’s commandeering both. “I-I didn’t know you went grocery shopping. Here, I mean. I’m sure you shop, but like…I live near here. Like five minutes away actually.”

Elsa chuckles, and honestly it sounds like honey-dipped guitar strings. But less sticky, and more sexy. “Well I was in the area dropping Serah off to her karate lesson, so I figured I might as well do some shopping while I wait.”

Right, Serah started her lessons last week. She told Anna that she was super excited about “getting to punch bricks and stuff”. Still unsure if she should move yet, Anna adds, “Well I like this place a lot. It’s like one of my top ten places to be- to go. Maybe top five.”

“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind,” Elsa grins like she really is happy to have run into her. She shifts her gaze down and remarks, “Oh, that’s a really nice chopping board.”

Oh. Right. The chopping board’s…still in her cart. Anna lifts it up and holds it like she’s showing off the finest new features in chopping board technology. “Yeah thanks, it’s on sale actually.”

“That’s good news, I’m looking to replace the one we have. I’m tired of scraping plastic off my chicken when I’m cutting it.” Anna knows this, of course, because Elsa’s muttered it to herself every time she’s in the kitchen. “Which aisle did you find that in?”

Forgetting why she has the chopping board in the first place, Anna holds it out and says, “Oh it’s okay, you can just have this one?”

“Are you sure? Don’t you need it?”

Now remembering why she has it, Anna shamefully pulls it away, “Yes. I mean no. No I don’t, I don’t need it. It’s in my cart, but I don’t need it.”

Elsa’s eyes narrow, “I-I’m sorry, I’m confused.”

Well this is happening. And it’ll be even more awkward to explain things if she shows up with the chopping board on Monday. She sighs, finally admitting defeat, “I…I heard you mention you needed a new chopping board, so I wanted to get one for you. This one, actually. This is the one I was going to buy. And then give it to you on Monday.”

Elsa goes from confused to flattered in a second, and much like all of her expressions there’s an inarguable authenticity to it. There’s no exaggerated gasp or a drawn-out “Awww”, instead there’s a smile that could melt a million hearts and a casual touching of Anna’s upper arm.

“I knew I picked a good one,” Elsa says, oblivious to the screaming and fireworks occurring in Anna’s head.

“Ah, i-it’s nothing really. I’m using my paycheck, so in a way you’re buying it yourself haha,” Anna tries to laugh but she squeaks like someone’s just pumped her full of helium.

“Nonetheless, you’ve helped lift so much stress off your shoulders and I want to show how much I appreciate you.” Elsa straightens up a little and looks at the frazzled redhead curiously, “What do you think about coffee?”

“You mean like a coupon?” Anna shakes her head. “I mean a gift card?”

Elsa opens her mouth to respond, but another thought seemingly goes through her head and she purses her lips. A second later, she smiles again, “Yes. Like a gift card. Young people still drink Starbucks, right?”

Anna scoffs, “Ms. Langford, you’re only nine years older than me.”

“And yet you still insist on calling me ‘Ms. Langford’, which always makes me feel much older than I actually am.”

A ton of bricks falls on Anna as she realizes her grave mistake. “Oh my goodness, Ms. La- ah I mean I uh…I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I mean that wasn’t my intention. You’re young, a-and beautiful, and still in your prime. No you haven’t even reached your prime yet! If I made you feel like you weren’t, I’m-”

She’s silenced by the feel of Elsa’s hand coming to rest on…her shoulder? Well that’s new. And exciting. Anna focuses half of her mind on calming down and the other half on what Elsa’s saying.

“Relax Anna, it was just a joke. You can call me whatever you want.” Though Elsa’s voice is reassuring, her smile has a glint of proud mischief from catching her off-guard. “I’m not about to police my favorite babysitter on what words she can use.”

Anna tries to speak but finds her throat too dry. She clears it and tries again, “Really? I’m your favorite babysitter? You’re not just saying that?”

“I went through far too many babysitters before I found you,” Elsa lets out a breathy laugh, eyes glancing to the side as if she’s remembering back to the years she’d had to find the right fit to take care of Serah. Anna wonders what makes her so different from the others, but thinks that’s too invasive to ask. “You’re the best.”

The casual yet loaded compliments and the feel of Elsa’s fingers so close to her bare skin combine to create a dangerous, stomach-churning reaction in Anna. One that sets all her impulses alight, screaming at her to kiss Elsa.

Before she even has the chance to compose herself, Elsa’s already pulled away and is back by the safety of the handrails on her cart. “Well I think I’ve used up enough of your time this weekend. And besides, I need to find something for dinner tonight. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

Anna blinks, still trying to register things that happened five minutes ago. “Uh yeah, no problem. Sounds great,” she replies without knowing what she’s saying.

Elsa smiles at her and turns the corner, disappearing from direct sight. After an eternity of standing at the end of the aisle like an idiot, Anna groans and covers her face with her hands.

“Stupid,” she mumbles to herself.

[Line Break]

“The evil scientist shouted, ‘This ain’t over, Super Gal! One day-”

Anna presses the buzzer she bought at a dollar store. “There’s no such thing as the word 'ain’t’,” she corrects.

Serah groans, “You’re the worst.”

“You asked a girl with an English degree for help with your story. What did you expect would happen?” Anna taps against the table like an evil villain.

’“I didn’t expect you to not go easy on-”

Anna presses the buzzer again. “Double negative!”

“I’m not even writing!” Serah protests.

“My buzzer, my rules.”

The sound of the front door opening interrupts them bickering like long-lost sisters. Instead of running over to greet Elsa by the door, Serah shouts with exasperation, “Moooom! Anna’s being a jerk!”

“Well that’s what happens when you ask an English major to look over your story, honey,” Elsa replies.

Anna gives Serah a smug grin, the little girl sticks her tongue out in response. Elsa joins them at the dinner table, the tiredness on her face is less concerning tonight but Anna catches her wince when she sits down.

“You okay?” she asks.

Elsa smiles, “Fell off a ladder at work.”

“Oh my gosh, how bad does it hurt? I could-” Anna has to take a pause to let the unhelpful thought of massaging Elsa’s back go away. “-get you some ibuprofen or an ice pack.”

“Thank you, Anna, but I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning once I sleep it off. After all, I’m not even in my prime yet.” Elsa winks at her, and Anna has to pretend her insides haven’t turned to jelly.

“Is this like that time you fell in the bathroom while trying to pull your pants up?” Serah asks.

“Serah!” Elsa hides her face in her hands, though it’s still possible to tell the remorse she feels through her voice. “Why did I even tell you that story?”

Serah feigns innocence and shrugs, “Because I’m your daughter and you like telling me things?”

Elsa sticks her tongue out in response and it’s much cuter than it has any right to be. Unable to help herself, Anna asks, “Are you sure I can’t do anything for you? I mean like with your back…or whatever.”

Elsa rests her head against one of her hands and doesn’t try to hold back the tiredness in her smile this time. “You’re very sweet, Anna, but I’ll be okay. Just need some rest.” She mumbles afterward, “And a vacation…”

Anna lets her mind wander for a second, thinking of what it would feel like to take Elsa somewhere she could unwind. Like to a spa, or a lake. Elsa feels like the kind of person who finds solitude near water. In her mind, she sees Elsa in a baby blue sundress and a wide brim hat, looking out at the crystal clear waters from a creaky, wooden dock. She sees herself walking down the same dock and Elsa turning to her with a smile, holding a hand out and beckoning her to come over.

“What do you think, Anna?”

The wishful thought dissipates, and Anna’s pulled back into reality by a question she’s not ready for. “Sorry, I was uh…thinking of a story idea. What were you guys talking about?”

Thankfully not asking where Anna’s mind was really at, Elsa repeats herself, “Serah was wondering if you wanted to go to her play tomorrow.”

“I’m playing a tree!” Serah says proudly.

This invitation comes as a wonderful surprise. Serah’s been hyping this play up for forever, but Anna always assumed she would want Elsa to be there. “Oh, I…did something happen? Can you not make it?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare miss seeing my little girl play the part of Tree #2. But I really-”

Serah clears her throat obnoxiously loud.

“Right. We would really love it if you came. Tickets are free, but they’ll be selling popcorn and soda for $2.”

“You can sit next to my mom!” Serah adds, and her failed blink shows she knows exactly what she’s implying. It feels odd having a ten-year-old be her wing woman, but Anna’s learning to roll with it.

“No pressure, though,” Elsa says while wringing her hands together. “It’s on a Friday night, and I know you might already have plans.”

“I don’t,” Anna responds far too fast.

Elsa’s eyes widen in surprise, “Oh. Then do you want to go?”

The chance to sit next to Elsa for an hour in a dark auditorium? Anna would be an idiot to pass that opportunity up. And it isn’t lost on her that it felt like Elsa was about to say she would personally love it if she went.

“Sure, I’d love to go.”

[Line Break]

Far too many questions are still punching Anna in the brain as she pulls into West Arendelle Elementary’s parking lot and walks towards the auditorium. Should she have eaten something beforehand? Is she overdressed? Is she underdressed? Should she have texted Elsa to coordinate outfits? What if this is all some elaborate prank to make fun of her for her stupid mom crush? Did she sweat through her shirt? Is it noticeable?

Her crazy thoughts are interrupted by her phone buzzing. She pulls it out of the back pocket of her jeans and sees it’s a text from Elsa. She’s waiting by the door so they can find some seats together.

Well, that eases her worry about trying to find Elsa in a crowded auditorium. Though crowded might be an understatement. It’s a fourth-grade play, not an opera at The Met.

Once inside, Anna takes a second to admire the impressive renovations of what used to be a musty, old gymnasium (they even put in carpets and sound dampeners). But she’s not here to appraise this place, she’s here to root for her favorite fourth grader/tree and keep the ogling of Elsa to a minimum-

Holy baloney, Elsa’s wearing a dress.

It’s got blue-and-white stripes, short sleeves, and a similar colored waist sash. And instead of her hair being in a tight ponytail, the nearly silver locks fall across her shoulders and down her back.

It’s casual, it’s cute, it’s gorgeous, it’s beautiful, and it’s a stark reminder of how absolutely smitten Anna is.

“I was getting worried you might not show up,” Elsa says with a smile akin to the one she showed off at the grocery store.

Up close, Anna also notices a thin, snowflake necklace around Elsa’s slender neck and she’s already failed in keeping her ogling to a minimum. “You can always trust me to keep my promises, Ms. Langford,” she says with a goofy grin meant to reflect something called confidence.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Elsa responds.

Feeling like she has to mention it, and also because her brain’s still currently fried from seeing an angel, Anna adds, “You look beautifuller. I-I mean not like fuller, I just mean you look more beautiful than usual. Oh gosh, not that you usually look bad because you don’t. You never look bad, you’re-”

Elsa lays a hand on Anna’s shoulder again, which might as well be her reset button. “Anna, do me a favor and take a breath.”

Anna takes a breath.

“Good job. Now let’s go find some seats, okay?”

Anna follows her, too caught up on the feeling of being told she did a good job.

They find a spot at the end of an aisle and close enough to the stage that Serah will be able to find them without looking too hard. Elsa takes the seat on the left, Anna takes the seat on the right. They don’t start talking again right away, not until the conversations all across the auditorium become a blanket of white noise.

And then Elsa lets out a breath, “This feels nice.”

Anna turns to her and notices her eyes are closed, but she still commits to perfect posture so it looks like she’s meditating. “What do you mean?” Anna asks.

“Being…present. Not having to rush to make dinner or beat traffic or anything like that. It feels nice to have a break and just be.”

Anna finds it hard to understand what constitutes this as a break, but then again she isn’t a mother. And she doesn’t know much about what it means to take a break anyway.

Elsa tilts her head like she’s about to rest it on Anna’s shoulder, but instead, she turns to look at her. “Thank you again.”

“For the chopping board?”

“For the chopping board, for taking care of Serah, for being someone I can trust…for everything. It’s hard to- I mean you know it hasn’t been easy for me relationship-wise.”

Anna nods. Learning about Elsa’s divorce and her subsequent failed relationships was a part of why she took this job in the first place. She sympathized with the single mother and knew even then that Elsa could really use someone to have her back too.

“So thank you, for being my…the person I needed through all this. My knight in shining armor.”

The lights haven’t dimmed yet, so she needs to hope the blush on her cheeks isn’t too noticeable. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too wide, and then says, “Well, outstanding service is the Bizzybee guarantee.” It’s supposed to be a playful joke, but Elsa doesn’t seem to take it as such.

She frowns, “Do you really only see this as a job?”

This is different, but it doesn’t feel like a good different. Elsa doesn’t usually look like she’s staring into her soul, and she hasn’t asked anything this personal since the initial interview. To Anna, the answer is obvious, but she’s also caught up on wondering what answer Elsa wants to hear. If she says the wrong thing, will she lose her job? What’s the right thing to say? When did it get so warm? And is that citrus she smells in Elsa’s hair? Gosh, why is she so weird?

Shrinking further underneath Elsa’s stone-cold curiosity, Anna finally decides to approach this with honesty. “No,” she starts far too softly. “No, I think I would probably do anything for you…r family. You mean a lot to me. Y-you and Serah, I mean.”

She really hopes that doesn’t sound like a confession. The last thing she wants to do is get fired and have to run out of an elementary school auditorium in tears.

A soft, warmth presses against her hand that’s been resting on her seat. Anna looks down and sees Elsa’s hand on top of where hers should be. If this is a dream, then she never wants to wake up.

“Thank you for saying that,” Elsa replies just as softly.

Finally, the lights dim and the principal is on the stage talking about how hard the fourth-graders have worked on this rendition of The Giving Tree. And maybe it means nothing, but Elsa still hasn’t pulled away. Anna pushes away the thought of her own hand being too sweaty, and the notion that this could be a fulfillment of her craziest wish. Right now, she just tries to enjoy the feeling.

Serah turned out to be an excellent Tree #2.

[Line Break]

Next Monday, everything falls apart.

Or at least that’s what it feels like is going to happen when Elsa gets back from work and immediately asks Serah to go to her room so they can talk alone.

Anna’s never seen her this distraught before. Her ponytail is poorly put together, she’s not wearing any makeup, and there’s a coffee stain below her collar. When she asks if she can do anything to help, Elsa’s response is a quick but harsh, “No.”

She stiffens up. “Oh. O-okay, I’m sorry.”

Elsa shakes her head, places her hand on top of one of the kitchen chairs, but then pulls back like it’s hot to the touch. “Could we maybe sit on the couch?”

Right now, Elsa could tell her to cut off her hand and Anna would do it. She nearly trips walking the five feet from the kitchen to the living room couch, and tries to take up the least amount of space as possible when she sits down. Elsa sits on the far side, clutching a pillow to her chest with her mind probably anywhere else but here.

It’s not a good sight, and Anna’s not only worried about the safety of her job, but Elsa’s condition. She purses her lips to keep from saying anything stupid, and hopes this isn’t the horrible nightmare she’s expecting it to be.

Elsa closes her eyes tight, “I’m afraid I have to let you go, Anna.”

Anna completely deflates. Had she not been expecting this, it would have come as a greater shock to her. But when she pushed her luck at the play by trying to hold Elsa’s hand…she knew her days as a babysitter were numbered. “I understand,” she says sadly.

“I don’t think you do,” Elsa replies, quickly turning to look at Anna. Her eyes look like they’re pleading with her, like she doesn’t want to do this. “You were amazing, and I will give you the best endorsement for any job you apply for. But after the play-”

“I know. I was out of line.”

There’s a tense, awkward second of silence where the two women are looking at each other with equal levels of guilt and remorse. Though their reasons are vastly different. Elsa sighs and places the final nail in the coffin, “No, you weren’t.”

…what?

“Anna, I wanted you to hold my hand.”

What?

“You did?” Anna asks, trying her best to curb her optimism. This can’t possibly be going the way she thinks it is.

Elsa nods, “I’m not- well okay, first of all, I don't want to fire you. Serah, she thinks of you as her big sister, and the thought of separating you two tears me up. But this needs to happen because I…having you around…I feel something for you.”

“Feel something?” Maybe someday she’ll be able to say more than two sentences again.

Again, Elsa closes her eyes. A sternness falls on her face which Anna can tell she’s had to use a lot “Say it out loud,” Elsa mutters.

“What’s wrong?”

One agonizing moment later, Elsa reopens her eyes, and the guilt in them has worsened. “I-I’m attracted to you, Anna, and it’s getting to me. Really bad. I can’t sleep without thinking of you, I got a ticket for speeding a couple of weeks ago because I couldn’t wait to get home to you and Serah, and when you held my hand? Gosh, I felt something I never felt with anyone I’ve ever been with. I have feelings for you, and I have to let you go before I do something I might regret.”

She’s not dreaming, Anna knows that for sure because there’s no weird fog around her and Elsa doesn’t have a horse head. Yet she still can’t wrap her mind around the fact that this is happening.

Elsa Langford, the most beautiful mom- hell, the most beautiful woman- she’s ever known has just confessed she has feelings for her.

But she has to know for certain, so she finally musters up the lucidity to ask more than two words. “Do you really mean that?”

Elsa laughs. But it’s not a “gotcha” laugh, it’s a deeply embarrassed, caught-in-the-act laugh Anna’s far too familiar with. “Yes. I like you a lot.”

That’s all the confirmation she needs. With all the social grace of a bowling ball tumbling down the stairs, Anna responds. “I like you a lot too. Like attractively, I-I mean romantically.”

Elsa’s eyes widen, “Really?”

Anna shows off her expertly crafted awkward laugh. “Of course! You’re sweet, caring, and you’re so beautiful I bet a potato sack would look good on you. When I look at you or even think of you, I just see like rainbows and flutes and warm stuff like blankets or bedrooms- I uh, I mean like…soup. It was just a stupid crush at first, but honestly I don’t think I’ve ever felt this strongly for anyone before. Elsa, you’re a dream come true.”

Elsa’s pale complexion makes the redness that appears on her cheeks much brighter and more beautiful than Anna could ever imagine. This magical moment…it’s something she’ll always cherish and will never forget.

“I love the way you say my name,” Elsa says quietly.

“It’s a very pretty name,” Anna adds.

“Gosh, just kiss each other already!” Serah shouts from the hallway.

They talk for another hour. Despite the looming threat of being fired disappearing, Anna still agrees it’s best she stops working for Elsa. There’s now a conflict of interest, and the last thing they want is for either of them to get in trouble. Which means it’s back to job hunting. On the bright side, however, Anna can now come over whenever she wants so Serah will still have her “big sister”.

As for her and Elsa, they both agree to take things slow to make sure they won’t drive each other crazy. In a bad way, obviously. They both have big, stupid crushes on each other, but with Elsa’s track record for relationships and Anna’s overall social awkwardness, it’s clear that attraction will only get them so far. They have to work for this, if this was something to work for. Nonetheless, they remain optimistic and their first date is set for next week.

Elsa just needs to find a babysitter first.

[cruzrogue]

Broken

Ch1 (an olicity AU story.)

It’s a cloudy miserable noon with a chance of rain. So far today nothing has gone her way.  Finding herself grabbing another coffee because the first one was full of grinds. The only perk of her job is endless bagels and mediocre coffee.

Her sigh remnants through the small breakroom. Mumbling to herself, “You’d think a multi-billion-dollar company could afford better coffee.”

The only other occupant in the room snorts, “They wouldn’t make so much money if they gave their slaves… I mean employees premium coffee.”

“I Guess.” Placing enough sugar and cream in her cup. She deserves this. Especially being free from a call she finished up where a Queen Consolidated employee who seemed to be locked out of their computer had such a terrible attitude.

She had dreams. Aspirations. They all vanished when her boyfriend was lost somewhere in the Northern China Sea.

“It looks like it is going to rain hard soon.”

“I hate rain.” Her eyes move from the small tv showing a weather update to the overhead windows. The sky is getting darker by the second.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned it was a rainy night when you and your boyfriend got into a fight. He left and never returned.”

Felicity stares at him. She’s never told anyone the full story.

“Yea, something like that.”

Her life has changed dramatically in the last few years. To be clear. It’s been five years since her heart was ripped out from her chest.

“What a deadbeat.” Her coworker keeps going, “Wasn’t he the father of your three kiddos?”

“I better get back to my cube.” Pointing to her work area, “See you around Cooper.” She doesn’t wait for his own goodbye as she hightails it out of there.

Single moms aren’t his thing. It doesn’t stop Cooper from checking out her nice legs. She’s one of those MILFs he’d wouldn’t mind one night with. No strings attached kind of way. Too bad she’s pegged down with three kids.

As the breakroom is now void of anyone viewing the broadcast. Headlines appear. Oliver Queen has been found. After his five-years of being considered dead. He will be coming home. To reunite with his family.

Moira Queen face appears on screen, “It is a miracle with that of my young daughter’s prayers were answered.” She appears to hold back tears of joy. The camera than pans to the man by her side. Under his picture the viewers are reminded about his amnesia. How his bodyguard pulled him out of the turbulent water to a life raft.

Robert Queen has a few words, “My son is alive. After all these years of mourning. There is nothing worse than waking up not remembering anything that transpired. It has been my greatest failure as a father. I get a second chance. My boy is alive.”

The station airs a few more minutes of a recap of the Queen tragedy before the headline repeats its saying, ‘Oliver Queen has been found… Alive!’

As the hard rain begins to pellet against the building.

Felicity’s glancing at a photo of her three munchkins. Oliver was such a hands-on dad. Their first pregnancy was accidental. Their second was totally planned. Their third, well… she was alone for that one. His voyage with his father resulted in his death.

Life has a funny way of working out.

What does it matter that she was a prodigy child? At fourteen she was admitted to M.I.T. Her brain revered. Still is. It’s just… She doesn’t have passion to continue with her once upon a time active goal.

Losing Oliver was a knife to her zeal to conquer the technical world. Without his support she’s withered away in a gloomy existence. Somehow pushing forward due to motherhood. Seeing a piece of him in each of their children.

All it took was an eighteen-year-old boy to break her full academic resolve. She fell in love at first sight. It took awhile to become lovers because of her age. It didn’t stop them from spending each free moment together. Learning, appreciating, falling deeper, and the respect was always there. That when their bodies shared a special dance that carried them forward to wanting a life to be forever bound.

The most bizarre thing in all this. His parents didn’t approve of his affiliation with a minor back during their college years. They kept their relationship a secret. With the quarrel that led to Oliver giving her some space she felt to guilty to approach his family. They just lost their son.

Even though her babies are a joyful creation. If Oliver’s parents didn’t accept her in the past. She doesn’t ever want an eternal battle of custody. Powerful people have ways to win against dreamers like her.

To many people it is unfathomable that she’d keep the lineage of her children hidden. Maybe one day. When her kids are old enough to understand. For now, it is a secret that she carries.      

It takes her stomach to growl to even leave her post. Maybe a bagel will suffice until quitting time. Moving past some coworkers who seem to be gathered around animatedly gossiping. It takes a name to stop her in her tracks.

“What?”

“You haven’t heard?”

She shakes her head no, “Heard what?”

“The boss man’s son has returned.”

“What?” She shakes her head. Why is this conversation not making any sense to her, “Who?”

A name yet to be supplied but a few coworkers point to the breakroom.

“It’s all over the news.”

Felicity doesn’t wait. Hearing Oliver’s name once was enough to have her in a daze. She makes it to the room and any hunger she had seems to be forgotten. Her eyes scanning the headlines. Her world is spun upside down or is it right side up? It doesn’t take long as her head spins all the new information. Her Oliver is alive.

“He’s alive!” She can’t contain how much hearing this is just so overwhelming, “He’s coming home.” Hearing some voices agree that he is coming back to Starling City. She would find it amusing if the voices didn’t drown away as a dizziness overtakes her. Falling. Falling upon the carpeted floor. Not hearing the same voices sounding panicked.

“Felicity?”

Her name again said out loud. To be answered by a moan.

“Ms. Smoak?”

Felicity doesn’t want to open her eyes. It’s a harsh light waiting for her. Squinting she tries to cooperate with the voice.

“Welcome back. You had us all worried.”

“I’m okay.”

“There is an ambulance on the way.”

“No. No need.” Is mumbled out. “I’ll be okay.”

“Ms. Smoak, it is policy to make sure you are alright. I’ll give you some forms and they’ll need to be filled out before you can return to work.”

“Okay.” Is softly spoken. Felicity feels lightheaded. She just hallucinated that her boyfriend is alive. Maybe it purgatory. Even though she doesn’t believe in purgatory. It is the hellish state to want him back so bad. Their last words said of anger. She’s already exhausted every nightmare trying to make things right.

“Alright then. They’re here. Please remain seated I’m just going to handle their arrival.”

The woman leaves Felicity alone in what seems to be an examination room. Afraid to pass out again she remains seated. This has never happened before. Fainting by wanting something so bad. Crying her eyes out. Crying to the point of exhaustion. Now that is something she knows of well.

How will she explain to the medical professional she passed out thinking the love of her life miraculously came back to her. Just out of the blue she’s so overemotional. Thinking about a man for the longest time. Didn’t believe was gone. How cruel is her mind? That when she finally admits he is never coming back. She’d have an episode.  

 Across the city at Starling General. Oliver Queen is being checked out. His family insistent that he have a medical professional make sure he is truly fine. The media is playing that he has been found and is awaiting extradition out of the US Embassy in China. The truth of the matter is he was found days ago. He silently made it back states side early this morning. He has yet to see his parents. Glad to know his father is alright.

He is anxious.

What he wants... no what he needs is to know of his children. Know how Felicity is? Five years is a long time. The fear that has taken so many dreaded nights. Did he lose her? Their last words to each other harsh.

Is their another raising his children? His parents unaware of their grandchildren. His mind going all over the place. On the trip before that horrifying night. Oliver told his dad about his granddaughters. Of how he felt about another little one on the way. He was ecstatic.

At first, he kept his relationship from his parents because they weren’t keen on him courting a minor. They wouldn’t believe him if he were to say they never consummated their love until she was ready. He understood the ramifications society holds. Yet, age between them was just numbers. It’s not like he was a party boy like his high school self.

Meeting the blued eyed prodigy. He was quickly under her spell.

He regrets that he kept his growing family a secret. His love for Felicity should have never been under wraps. The moment they graduated from their prestigious schools. He should have pushed. Should have fallen on one knee and asked her to be his bride. Should have not listened to her newest reasons that she wanted to succeed without his family’s help.

Understanding that his father and a few of the crew made it out alive. He was pushed out on the wreckage further away. That when the storm calmed, he was already halfway to purgatory. His father’s amnesia keeping both sides of his family from connecting.

His thoughts are on his kids. Two he helped name. One he wonders if he has another sweet daughter or a little boy. Are they healthy? Doing well? His little Maple she’d be about seven of age. Ava would be five. His youngest almost four.

His youngest. Every thought that comes about is agonizing.

Felicity didn’t have him to lean on. Which means she either was alone or another somebody took his place. It guts him to even picture his young children calling someone else daddy.

Five years. Five years in turmoil.

He’s back. He’ll find his family. No matter what. He’ll apologize to Felicity over and over until she knows those angry words were of a silly man being hurt.  

Now he waits. Looking out of a hospital window. Waiting for familiar voices to come and claim their lost child. He needs this as much as they will. To be home. To be among those he loves. He missed so much. So much time lost.

He can feel the yearning come tenfold as a familiar voice is heard behind the hospital door of his room.

[rohad93]

Moonlit Masquerade: 6

The witch just has a gravitational pull on her she can’t explain, even before she acknowledged her feelings, but now more than ever all Luz wants is to be close to her. She knows she is supposed to be keeping her distance somewhat as Willow and Gus had suggested but she can’t help it. She just vibrates with energy at the prospect of spending time with Amity.

Preferably alone. A thought that sends her heart into a thundering pace inside her chest.

She still finds herself actively seeking out Amity before or after class on days they don’t have them together. She’s pretty sure Willow has caught on because she rolls her eyes and shakes her head in fond exasperation whenever she runs off with a lame excuse to seek out the mint haired girl. Despite being in on her little secret, Gus seems completely oblivious to it though.

She knows that she's supposed to be winning Amity over anonymously so the witches' feelings won't be influenced as much by their friendship so that she can see that they could be more, but she just can’t help herself.

It’s Friday and she’s hoping with the incoming weekend that Amity might have some free time for the Boiling Isles resident human today. She still has to spend all of tomorrow running errands for Eda and as much as she’d prefer not to, she really needs to study Sunday, as well as help the Clawthorne sisters train with glyphs.

As soon as the bell lets out its regular scream signaling the end of the day she bolts for the door and dashes down the hallways toward Amity's locker.

“Sorry, ‘scuse me!” she calls around herds of other students as she dodges and weaves around them as they fill Hexside’s halls.

She skids around the corner just as Amity is opening her locker and setting her books inside.

'perfect'M

"Hey, Amity!" she calls as she barrels down the hall, giddy at the sight of the girl. Amity looks up and sees her and gives her that small sheepish smile Luz has come to adore as she waves.

Hi, Luz, how were your healing track classes?" she asks, pushing a loose strand of mint-colored hair behind one of her pointed ears and maybe Luz watches the movement far more closely then she should be.

"Great, "I learned how to make this paste that heals small cuts and bruises…" She grinned.

"Well, that should come in handy for you," Amity teases with a grin.

Luz gives a loud, dramatic gasp, a hand resting on her chest.

"Are you implying something about me, Miss Blight?" she asks with mock indignation that makes Amity giggle behind her hand.

"Not at all, Miss Noceda." Amity replies and the way her surname rolls off Amity's tongue makes Luz's knees go weak.

“I was thinkin’ since it’s Friday, do you wanna maybe go to the library and have book club?” she asks hopefully, but those hopes are immediately dashed by the fallen look on Amity’s face. “If you don’t want to, it's fi-” She doesn't get to finish as Amity cuts her off.

“I do!” she cringes at her volume. “I do, but my parents want me to come home right after school. They’re having some work associates over for dinner tonight…,” she trails off.

‘I have to be there to play dress up for them.’ She keeps that part to herself even as she thinks the bitter thought.

“Oh, it’s okay, another time?” she asks, doing her best to keep the disappointment out of her voice and she thought she had but the dejected look on Amity’s face tells her that she needs practice in concealing her emotions.

Before she can speak though a pair of arms drape over her shoulders, making Luz jump.

“Hi, Luz.” her name sounds in stereo in her ears and she realizes it’s the twins draped over her.

“Hey, guys.” She looks at Edric and Emira as they remove themselves from her to stand next to Amity, who already looks mildly annoyed at her siblings’ appearance.

“Long time no see, cutie.” Emira winks, Edric grins and Amity scowls, face turning red and not in the usual way Luz has become accustomed to, it's definitely an angry red and she seems to be looking at Emira specifically.

“We go to the same school and it seems like we hardly ever see you,” Edric laments with a sigh as he drapes an arm around Amity’s shoulder and drops his cheek to the top of her head.

She wastes no time elbowing him in the gut and he quickly retreats with a pained grin. Luz chuckles.

“Yeah, Mittens has been hogging you.” Emira pouts, crossing her arms.

“Ah, well…,” Luz mumbles, unsure what to say to the tricky duo.

“Can we just go?” Amity growls at her siblings. “I’ll see you later, Luz.” She smiles at the other girl before walking off down the hall without waiting for her siblings.

Edric and Emira look at each other and chuckle before Edric hurries off after their little sister.

“Bye, Luz.” He smiles.

“She can be so cranky, maybe we’ll take her to the Redstone bakery next weekend and get her some of those treats she likes so much.” Emira turned to Luz. “She can never get enough of their Thornberry tarts,” she says

“Thornberry tarts?” Luz questioned with interest.

“Yup, it’s like her favorite treat, Well I better catch up to them, see ya later, Luz.” Emira winked before trotting down the hall after her siblings.

Luz watched as the Blight siblings disappeared before shouldering her bag a little higher and heading out of the school straight for the owl house.

She was disappointed that she wouldn’t get to hang out with Amity, but she had gotten some useful information out of it.

~ ~

By Saturday afternoon Luz was exhausted. She had spent the whole day delivering potions for Eda in return for the money she had leant her to buy the flowers.

“For Amity,” she mumbled to herself as she trotted to and fro across Bonesburough with heavy bags of potions in their glass bottles. Even as her arms burned it was still worth it to have seen that smile on Amity’s face and know that she had been the cause.

“Thank you very much.” The old wrinkled shopkeep nodded as she took her delivery.

“No problem.” Luz smiled.

“For your trouble, child.” She held out a hand and Luz blinked as she held up a hand and a handful of snails dropped into her open palm and her eyes lit up.

“Thank you very much!” Luz grinned before taking off, all her deliveries were done and she now had an unplanned stop to make.

With the handful of snails in her pocket, she heads straight for the bakery that Emira had mentioned. The market was bustling with people all haggling and making deals with the various vendors that line the streets and after living with Eda for the nearly two months she had, she knows to be wary of pickpockets, keeping one hand shoved into the pocket of her shorts, clutched around the money.

She has to stop and ask for directions a couple of times but finally finds the small, unassuming bakery on the corner, it’s front windows are full of both delicious and strange-looking treats that Luz can only guess at.

She pushed open the door and a bell overhead chimes.

The large man behind the counter looks at her as she comes in.

“Welcome to the Redstone bakery!” he calls and Luz grins and trots up to the counter. “What can I do for you?” he asks, leaning over the counter to look at her.

“Thornberry tart?” she asks like she’s not sure and he nods walking over to the case and pulls out a palm-sized treat that looks like any tart from her world with deep red filling. He puts it in a box and tells her total. She hands over the snails happily and leaves the shop with her prize and money still in her pocket. A win in her book.

She takes her time walking back and perusing the stalls while humming a happy tune.

She happens to be passing by a booth when something catches her attention. A small stall selling an array of glittering jewelry and the like. Eda isn’t expecting her back at any given time, so there's no harm to stop and browse. She walks up to inspect the offerings. The four-eyed, scaly merchant behind the stall eyes her warily but says nothing as she keeps her hands in plain sight wrapped around the box her tart is in.

The gems shimmer and shine in the sunlight, nearly blinding her at certain angles.

Then something catches her attention. A small trinket and not half grand as some of the things on display but she can only think of one person as soon as she sees it.

Seeing the sudden gleam in her eyes the merchant finally addresses her.

“See something you like?” his voice is scratchy and low.

“How much for this?” she asks, pointing to the item in question. He glances at it.

“Eighty snails.” Luz’s heart sinks. She has five left and as good as she’s gotten at bargaining by learning from Eda she knows there's no way she could get him to agree to that.

“Ah… thanks…” She smiles downtrodden and starts to turn away.

“Hold on there, tiny.” The merchant calls, a scaled tail swaying behind him. “I got a lot of fine pieces here, what makes that one so special?” and he’s right, next to the many bejeweled pieces that look like they cost more than her, it must seem like an odd choice, so small, with a single tiny gem.

She hesitates.

“Professional curiosity,” he says with a shrug.

“Well, when I saw it, it reminded me of someone,” she explains.

“Someone special?” he asks and his four eyes blink as he regards her curiously from behind the stand. Her face flushes and his question is answered but he waits for her answer anyway.

“Very special…” she nods her head, fiddling with the tart box.

He hums, looking Luz over.

“How much you got?” he finally asks.

“Five…”

He grimaces but seems to be thinking.

“How bout a deal?” he says after a long moment. Luz looks at him, curious but wary. “I got a package I need delivered to another shop on the other side of town, but I've been pretty busy today and don’t wanna leave and miss out on customers. Give me the five and deliver the package and it’s yours.” He offers and Luz is practically vibrating with excitement.

“Deal!” She grins brightly and he grunts but smirks as he reaches beneath the stall and pulls out a wrapped parcel and gives her directions to where it needs to go.

She wastes no time taking it to its destination. It takes her about an hour to get there and back, dropping it off at another shop.

When she gets back, sweaty and tired she hands over the receipt for the package as well as her five remaining snails and he nods, taking the trinket out of its case and slipping it in a small maroon-colored velvet box and handing it over.

“Thank you so much!” she calls as she takes off running back to the owl house with her tart and newest acquisition clutched firmly in hand and a bright grin on her face.

~ ~ ~

Despite just coming off the weekend Amity was tired.

Friday nights dinner had taken a lot out of her.

Honestly? She preferred it when her parents mostly forgot they even had children. It was easier for her and the twins.

With that dark thought, she trudged through the school halls with Emira and Edric following behind her and talking quietly to each other, choosing to let her stew in her foul mood. They had as good a time at the dinner as she had, which was to say none at all.

“I’m almost glad to be back at school.” Edric huffed as they walked up to Amity’s locker. Emira made a sound of agreement.

Amity pulled her book out of her bag as she walked up to her locker but before she could reach out its mouth popped open and its tongue slid out, revealing a small box bearing the Redstone bakeries logo.

Amity blinked, heart, beating a little faster as she picked it up. A folded slip of paper was taped to the lid.

She pulled it free and unfolded it.

‘Amity,

A sweet Monday morning to you, Your secret Admirer’

The same handwriting and little heart over the ‘i’.

“Ohhh~”

Amity froze at the twins' chorus behind her.

“Someone’s after your heart, Mittens.” Edric teased with a wide, toothy grin. Emira hummed knowingly.

Amity growled but ignored them as she opened the lid of the box and stared wide-eyed at the treat sitting inside the box as saliva began to fill her mouth at the sight

A Thornberry tart.

How did this person know?

“Oh, Thornberry tart!” Edric grins. "Can I have some?" He reached for the box, which Amity slaps shut and hisses at her brother warningly, baring her teeth at him.

"Just a bite!"

"No!"

Emira watches them squabble with a knowing smirk.

~

At lunch Amity sits with Willow, Gus, and Luz, and practically inhales the treat, her happiness is apparent In every pleasurable sound she makes with every bite. Her terrible weekend was all but forgotten.

Luz smiles brightly as she watches from the corner of her eye and thinks that she would make deliveries for Eda every Saturday if it meant making Amity that happy.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Tinsel: All Aglow (A Light Fingers Christmas Special 2/2)

Read Chapter 1 here: First Christmas A/N: We go from happy Christmas fluff to angsty sort of plot relevant stuff. But still kind of soft? Word Count: 2314 Content Warnings: discussion of childhood poverty, social workers, implied/referenced child abuse and neglect (past), references to drugs Cross-posted to AO3: here

“Hey, Y/N,” Klaus asked after the others had left, having stuck around to help with clean up the party and have the chance to get to know you better. “You look really familiar. Have we met before?”

“What?” you asked, frowning in confusion, at the same time Diego did with a seemingly affronted tone, one you knew was a cover for his insecurity at being reminded of your colorful acquaintances.

“Yeah. Yeah, I definitely do. I’d recognize that adorable face anywhere. It’s the eyes I think…I just can’t figure out where from…”

You grimaced. You could think of a lot of places a junkie might know you from: pawn shops, back alleys, sketchy clubs, your fence’s house, to name just a few. Luckily Eudora was long gone, so reference to your illegal activities wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if it came up, but honestly you didn’t want to be reminded of them tonight of all nights, not after the evening had gone so well up until now. 

“The mausoleum!” he suddenly shouted with a snap of his fingers.

“What?” Diego asked with real confusion now. 

Klaus turned excitedly to Diego. “Remember, I swore you and Ben to secrecy because Dad would have been so pissed? The girl, the one that glowed and kept me company when Dad locked me up, and helped hold the ghosts at bay?”

“I always thought you were making that up. Or that it was a friendly ghost that made the others back off somehow. I never…You’re telling me it was Y/N?”

He turned back to you for confirmation. You studied Klaus, the pinch of your eyebrows as you concentrated creating that cute little furrow that was of Diego’s favorite quirks of yours. 

“Oh!” you cried suddenly, remembering. 

You had snuck into one of the creepy old buildings in the graveyard near your family’s home to hide from the woman discussing “removal.” You were just making yourself comfortable in one of the cubbies, meant for coffins and just tall enough to sit in, when the doors were thrown wide and a boy about your age had stumbled in. 

“Three hours,” a voice which later haunted your nightmares had barked. “Maybe by then you will have learned that death is to be controlled, not feared.”

The boy was crying. You felt terrible. So you made yourself glow, though it was hard without much to draw from, and poked your head out of your hiding spot. He screamed and started crying more. It took quite a bit to calm him down and explain that you weren’t a ghost or a monster, and then he’d explained that he could see ghosts but they terrified him and his father was unhappy with him because of it. 

“Your dad is a bully, and when he comes back, I’ll kick him,” you offered your new friend. 

While he hadn’t accepted that offer, he had the one to come back again in case he was ever thrown in there again, and to shed a little light while he was there (even though it made you feel sleepy and sick to keep it up for so long. It wasn’t like your new friend needed to know that, and he needed your power more than enough to make it worthwhile). 

It was no surprise, really, that you hadn’t recognized Klaus. He looked extremely different from his childhood self. It wasn’t a bad look by any means, but it certainly wasn’t the round-cheeked, freckle-faced and crying boy you had known. And it had been so long ago, a friendship that had ended when you were about seven, after one incident where you'd nearly been caught and he had been more scared of what his father might do to you than he was of the dark and the ghosts. He had insisted that he never wanted to see you again, and not knowing yet how to fight for the things that mattered, you had let him push you away.  

“Huh,” you finally said, acknowledging the accusation. “Small world.”

“You knew Klaus? Why didn’t you say anything?” Diego asked, unable to keep the hurt from his voice. 

“To be honest, I didn’t realize...I sort of forgot,” you said, hoping to brush the whole thing aside. “I try not to think about...roughly ages four to nine. It wasn’t a good time to be me.”

Diego raised an eyebrow and you knew he wouldn’t let it go, so you sighed.

“Look. It was after Dad died. Mom wasn’t doing well emotionally, and money was tight. Apparently when your kids constantly show up to school with no breakfast in them and no lunch, and their jeans are held together with strips of duct tape because a roll of that is cheaper than trying to get new clothes, it raises questions about parental fitness. There were a lot of social workers in and out of my life, and I spent a lot of time running away. Can we not talk about this on Christmas?” you asked quickly, your voice tight, before turning to Diego’s brother. “Where are you staying tonight Klaus? Our couch is available if you don’t already have a place.”

“I’d love to crash at yours, if my brother doesn’t mind,” Klaus said, offering you a hesitant smile. 

“He doesn’t,” you replied determinedly, and both brothers glanced at each other over your head, a silent conversation about your sudden terseness and the ways they might be able to help. 

~

Later that night, the three of you sat around the apartment, earlier tension forgotten. Your back rested against Diego's shins from your seat on the floor, head falling on his knees as you threw it back in laughter from some story Klaus was telling about when they were children and he and Diego had started some sort of prank war with Ben (secretly supported by Five or Vanya or maybe both, Diego had said he suspected). It made you happy to hear about the good times, that they had still found ways to be children despite their harsh upbringing. 

“The way he stuck to the honey in his mattress was so worth having mine taken away for a month,” Klaus concluded, laughing and oblivious to the horror widening your eyes. 

Diego’s fingers combed unconsciously through your hair, massaging your scalp. You started to feel calmer with each pass, matching your breathing to his movements. The physical contact grounded you, reminding you that, despite everything, you had both made it through and made it here. 

“It couldn’t have all been like that though...right?” you asked hesitantly. “There must have been just average days where you got to be normal kids?”

“We were allowed to have fun on Saturdays,” Diego was quick to assure you.

“For a whole half hour!” Klaus chimed in, still laughing, false cheerfulness radiating a sharp sting of bitterness. “And on special occasions, Mom made chocolate chip pancakes.” He paused, seeming to listen to something. “Yeah. I think Ben’s funeral was the last time we had any.”

“Oh.” 

You sighed, leaning as far into Diego as possible, as if he could give you strength, or you could give him back the peace he had been robbed of pretty much from birth.

“I used to envy you, growing up,” you admitted. “I thought if I had been adopted things would have been better. But really I just wouldn’t have known how bad they were. There really wasn’t a not shitty end of the deal, was there?”

Silence fell over the three of you, uncomfortable and awkward. 

“It’s okay though,” Klaus said eventually, shifting nervously and picking at his nails. “We survived it, figured out to be functioning - semi-functioning - adults. And never have to go back.”

“Right,” Diego said and you felt his body shift as he nodded at his brother. “It’s just a thing in our pasts. Everyone’s got...stuff.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “I guess.”

“Hey is there any of that roast left? I’m starving,” Klaus said, standing to climb over the back of the couch and wander toward the kitchen. 

You stared after him, unsure if he was serious or just trying to lighten the mood. When you shifted your gaze to Diego questioningly, he just shrugged.

“It should be in the container with the blue lid,” he told Klaus, waving vaguely at the fridge.

~

The three of you talked (one might even have dared to call it bonded) long into the night. It was past midnight when Diego finally bowed out, practically asleep on the couch already before he stumbled off to bed. You took his spot, sitting cross-legged and facing Klaus at the other end of the couch, and the pair of you continued to talk for at least another hour.

“Y/N, you should sleep,” Klaus eventually suggested. “You look exhausted, and it’s no surprise, with everything you did today, and putting up with my brother all the time to boot.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you sighed. “I’ll go grab you some stuff to sleep and be right back.”

Quietly you slipped past the screen into the darkened bedroom area and frowned, scolding yourself internally for not doing this before Diego was in bed. He was a light sleeper and got so little of it on a regular basis, and though you could adjust the light to not wake him, it was an imperfect solution. Trying not to disturb your sleeping husband (the word still felt weird and wonderful to wrap your head around and you couldn’t help but smile), you lit your hand with a faint glow and dug through the bins beneath your bed to find your spare bedding. 

“You really don't have to worry about it, Y/N,” Klaus whispered, having followed you to the doorway, trying to wave off your efforts. “The couch alone is better than I've had lately. I can just use my coat as a blanket.”

“Absolutely not,” you hissed back determinedly. “You are a guest in my home. I want you to be comfortable, not just 'good enough.'”

He opened his mouth to protest and you held up a finger warningly. 

“Klaus, be smarter than Diego, and know that you can’t argue with me and win. Especially not over something as simple as me finding the spare bedding.”

His mouth shut with a dramatic popping sound that made you tense as Diego stirred in the bed.

“Go wait in the living room before you wake him up,” you asked, “please? He’s tired enough as it is most days.”

You felt more than saw Klaus’s eyes as he studied you for a moment before nodding and, shockingly, doing as he was told. A few minutes later, you emerged once more, handing Klaus a pile of bedding. 

“Blanket, light sheet, pillow,” you said, patting the pile. “I can grab another blanket if you need, if this won’t be warm enough. I have like a hundred of them.”

“No, this will be fine,” he said sincerely. “I sleep warm anyway. I think it’s the nightmares. Or the drugs.”

“Riiight. Are you sure you’re good? You don’t need anything else? Glass of water? More food? Cup of tea?”

He laughed, reaching out to rest his hands on your shoulders. “Relax, Y/N. I appreciate it, but I’m fine. If I need a drink, I’ll raid the kitchen later. I have everything I need. More than I deserve.”

“That’s not--” he put a finger to your lips dramatically, stopping you short as you squinted in confusion at him, going cross-eyed to try and look at the offending digit.

“Don’t try to argue it. It’s a lifetime of a feeling. But I appreciate you trying. And everything you’ve done, then and now.”

You cocked your head softly. “You know, that offer to kick your father remains on the table.”

He grinned.

“But maybe we should table that discussion for tomorrow, it’s getting late. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Actually, I’ll be gone then,” Klaus said in a tone clearly meant to be reassuring. “Before you wake up, if my brother’s smart enough to take a day off or learn that there’s no reason in general to get up with the crack of dawn. Especially with a beautiful woman in his bed.” He shot you an exaggerated wink.

You rolled your eyes fondly. “You don’t have to, Klaus. You can stay for a while. Days, weeks, whatever.”

“You’re sweet. But you don’t really want me around.”

“Of course I do,” you insisted, frowning at how casually he said such a thing. “We do. You’re family.”

“I don’t think anyone with the last name of Hargreeves really knows what that means.”

“Actually, I took your brother’s name when we got married so…” you shrugged.

Klaus laughed and you smiled. 

“I’m serious though,” you pushed. “Diego will never admit it because he’s stubborn and dumb, but he cares about you, and worries. And I think he misses you.”

Suddenly, Klaus’s long arms were wrapped around you, hugging you fiercely. There were tears in his voice when he next spoke. 

“Thank you, Y/N. That means...a lot. And hey, take care of him, will you? He’s gonna get himself killed otherwise.”

“Of course I will, Klaus,” you said, hugging him back. “I do kinda love him.”

The pair of you pulled away to share a smile, and somewhere deep inside, you felt the stirrings of your ancient friendship awakening from hibernation. After a moment, you shook yourself.

“Anyway, I’ll let you get some sleep. And if you happen to stick around, I’ll make pancakes in the morning. See if I can’t scrounge up some chocolate chips?”

“You drive a hard bargain, Y/N. I’ll think about it.”

You chuckled, before flicking off most (leaving the one above the sink to help ease his fear of the dark) of the lights. “Goodnight, Klaus.”

[boobootheclownfool]

Rough Nights

sawamura daichi x reader warnings: night terrors word count: 2200+ A/N: this is very fluffy and wholesome and makes me extremely happy inside. It gets kinda deep at some points bc I was writing this when I was feeling the exact same way as y/n and got in my feelings ( ˘•̥ _•̥ ˘ ) sadly it didn’t work out the same as this but you know what it is what it iz. I hope you enjoy reading ( ⁎ᵕᴗᵕ⁎ ） Snow cascaded down from the sky at an alarming rate. The wind was blowing through the giant pine trees, and the combination of the two made it impossible to see more than a hundred metres into the distance. I blew into my cup of cocoa, steam blowing back into my face. Even if we weren't able to go outside, I was still content here. Surrounded by those who I hold dear.

Every winter holiday, we would travel with our family friends, the Sawamura's, up to the mountains. We had a house up here, where we could stay and hide away from the rest of the world, even if it was only for a couple of weeks. Due to our lives being so busy this was the only time out of the entire year, except for maybe a couple of dinners, we were able to catch up. I treasured it a lot, seeing as I would consider Daichi Sawamura to be one of my closest friends. Maybe I felt him to be a bit more than that, but I could never tell him. I wouldn't want to ruin the relationship we have built throughout our lives. I could never do that.

When we were children, we spent our time up here outside. The days consisted of snowball fights and snowmen. We'd spend our time covering the backyard with snow angels, each pair doing different activities. At night the fresh layer of snow would cover it up, and we'd spend the next day doing it all over again.

However, as we got older, our time outside slowly got shorter. As the workload of middle school began, then high school, and now college, we barely have time to run around like we used to. Instead, we would move a table to the living room, so we could stay cosy in front of the fire as we worked, and watched our younger siblings do what we used to.

With age, feelings began to grow. Feelings nursed each day as I spent every second with him. Feelings that grew consistently until it was time for us to go home again. It was a painful yet magical cycle, every year they simmered until we would see each other again, and then they boiled until we were separated. Because of this, even at the age of twenty, I had never had the time for anyone else. In my mind, no one could compare.

I think the part that was the most painful was the fact that I was too afraid to talk about it with him. It just seemed impossible. He was like a fantasy that I got to see once a year, someone who could do no wrong. What would happen if I shared my feelings with him? I was scared, scared that if I told him how I truly felt the feelings wouldn't be reciprocated and it would hurt what we already have. I suppose this is how it is when you build a friendship with someone only during good times. How are you able to rock the boat when neither of you knows how the other person reacts under that kind of pressure?

I sipped my cocoa, closing my eyes in pleasure at the creamy taste.

"You alright there?"

Daichi Sawamura was humorously staring at me from across the table. The table scattered with an excessive amount of paperwork. College work.

I groaned. "I would say I'm anything but alright at the moment." I glanced down at the essay I had stopped writing mid-sentence as I got lost in the outside world and my thoughts. Is it wrong that I wanted to set it on fire? I despised this unit.

"Now, now, it can't be that terrible, can it?" Daichi stood up from his chair and moved around to my side of the table. "Let me have a look." Sure enough, the man who wasn't even studying the same course as me was able to understand the content better than I had. Instead of doing his own work, he helped me complete mine until the only light illuminating the room was the glow of the fire and everyone else in the house had made their way to bed.

"I think I'm going to sleep," he had yawned. "I'm exhausted, and I really want to be able to go skiing tomorrow without falling asleep standing up." His arms extended over his head as he leant back in his chair, face scrunched in a tired stretch. The white, long sleeve shirt he wore had lifted just slightly to reveal his lower abdomen, and I watched as his muscle rippled.

Lowering my eyes back down to my now completed paper, I gulped, before looking around in search for any other coursework to do. The thought of going to bed right now flustered me to no end. You're probably wondering why? Well, my younger sister had convinced our parents to allow her boyfriend to come away with us. The only catch? They were not permitted to share a room. Daichi was kind enough to allow him to sleep in his room. Do you see where I am going with this? We don't have any spare rooms in the house. He has to sleep in my room.

Our parents have decided that we're old enough and responsible and that they wouldn't have to worry about anything happening. And whilst they're absolutely right in saying that nothing was going to happen, it didn't mean it wasn't going to slowly kill me inside that Daichi was sleeping in the same bed as me.

Not being able to find any work to start at that moment, I simply nodded my head in agreement. That we did, in fact, need to go to bed if we wanted to be functioning humans tomorrow, and began to pack away all of my loose pieces of paper. I couldn't say anything; I was too nervous.

Daichi, who had already packed up his belongings, stood from the table, and cheerfully smiled at me, "I'll see you in a minute then!" He walked out of the living room, humming.

Realising that I wasn't breathing, I released a big sigh before hitting my forehead against the edge of the table dramatically. "Stupid." I had to get a grip on myself before I made it even more apparent.

I took a ridiculously long amount of time to get ready for bed. Trying to build up as much courage as I could, before I walked into my bedroom. My eyes immediately landed on Daichi, sprawled out over the covers, his phone in his hand. Thankfully, he was fully dressed in black tracksuit pants and an old volleyball tournament shirt. I don't know if I could have handled his typical sleeping attire, and I was glad he'd thought of how comfortable I would be.

Noticing my arrival, he sat up and smiled. "I was waiting for you," Tilting his head to the side, he gestured to the bed. "How do you want to work this?"

I clapped my hands together before walking over to my closet, trying to contain my nerves. "Mum keeps all of the spare pillows in here! I thought we could create a little wall of something?" I reached up toward the top shelf of the closet, trying to grab the pillows which were just slightly too high up for me to grasp. I became very aware of the cold air on the back of my thighs and silently cursed at myself for wearing pyjama shorts that were just a little bit too short.

I turned around to Daichi with a pout, and he laughed at me before making his way over to help.

Eventually, we managed to create a wall of pillows down the centre of the queen-sized bed. I flipped off of the lights, before quickly running back to the bed and jumping underneath the covers with a squeak. One thing that always scared me was the dark.

Daichi chuckled softly, "Goodnight, (y/n)-chan."

I was glad it was dark so he couldn't see how red my face must have been. "Goodnight, Daichi-san." I closed my eyes and breathed slowly, trying to distract my mind from any thoughts that shouldn't be there.

My breath hitched in my throat, and I woke up gasping for air.

I had a reoccurring dream, one that I would only get when we were away on this particular trip. When we were younger, around nine or ten, Daichi and I would often go exploring in the forest that surrounded the holiday house. Except, one time we got lost. It grew dark, and eventually, our parents found us. I've had dreams about it ever since, my imagination running wild with what could have happened to us.

Panicked, I tried to slow my breathing down to a regular pace but to no avail. I felt like I was choking on air.

A hand began to stroke my hair. "Are you alright?" I could feel the vibration of their voice right in front of my face like I was pressed into someone's throat. That was enough to stop air from entering my lungs altogether. I tensed up but immediately relaxed when their fingers made their way to my scalp, slowly beginning to rub.

As I calmed down, I became more physically aware. I noticed that I was indeed wrapped up in Daichi's arms. Legs tangled together, my face pressed into his neck. He had one hand wrapped around my waist, the other softly stroking my head. It was so soothing that I couldn't bring myself to do anything about it. I didn't care about what happened to our pillow wall; I wanted to stay like this forever, bundled up in his warmth, listening to the soft sounds he was making to soothe me. The scent of rosewood intoxicated my mind as I inhaled deeply. I felt him bury his nose into my hair, drawing in a large breath before his chest slowly moved up and down in an even rhythm. My mind relaxed even more, and I drifted into a tranquil sleep just as a pair of lips pressed tenderly against my forehead.

I was woken again, but this time not from a nightmare. A loud rumbling sound ripped through my left ear and I jumped in shock, accidentally bumping Daichi in the process. He let out a loud groan.

"Jesus Christ," I managed to whine out, clutching my ear. "Do you keep a train up there?"

A sleepy laugh sounded from Daichi which made me melt on the spot. He pulled me closer into the warmth of his chest. "Mmm, maybe I do. Sorry about that." He began to press small kisses against my ear and on the top of my head before I felt his breathing start to slow down, and he slowly dozed off again.

This definitely felt like a dream to me, and maybe that's why we were both so okay with it happening. The reality of the night was different from the reality of the day. At night you could get away with anything. There were no boundaries. People were different, more confident in the dark. I nuzzled my face against his neck, gently placing a soft kiss right underneath his ear before I drifted off again.

The feeling of hair being pulled behind my ear roused me from my slumber. I could feel the light shining against my eyelids, making it almost painful as I opened them. Immediately, Daichi pulled his hand back like he'd been caught.

It was a picturesque scene, the curtains had been slightly drawn, and sunlight was peaking through, beaming from behind Daichi like he was an angel. The sight brought a small smile to my face. I'm not sure when, but we had separated ourselves, and he laid on the other side of the bed."Sorry about that. I didn't mean to wake you," he murmured out, scratching behind his ear as though he was embarrassed. His biceps flexed as he did so, and I couldn't help but blush as I remembered those exact arms had wrapped around me so intimately last night. My heart rate sped up.

Neither of us said anything for a while. We just laid there in peaceful silence. Breathing in slowly, I drew in the scent of rosewood. I closed my eyes in ecstasy, and hummed happily. It may have been the most delicious scent I had ever smelled in my life.

I flickered my gaze back to Daichi. I was too nervous about bringing up what had happened last night. So many questions ran through my brain. Did this mean he felt the same way I did? Or was he just trying to comfort me? What does this mean now?

Somehow, I blocked them out. They were ruining the moment. All I wanted to think about and all I was going to think about was how lovely it felt to be wrapped up in his arms.

A realisation came over me. I didn't just want to remember it. I wanted to experience it every night for the rest of my life. A sense of motivation seemed to take over my brain, and I opened my mouth, ready to confess.

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

Here We Are, Born to be Kings - AUgust Day 9

Title: Here We Are, Born to be Kings

Author: Purple_ducky00

Rating: Teen

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Rhodey/Tony

Square Filled: G2 Dramatic Proposal

Link: Read on AO3

Summary:  Prince James is in love with Lord Tony Stark, a childhood friend. However, the Starks have been disgraced due to embezzlement charges. Can they overcome this?

++++++++++

“Your Highness. Lord Stark is here to see you.” Quentin Beck holds up his nose.

 Prince James Rhodes rolls his eyes. It’s not like Beck should judge. He was only hired because his family was in serious debt.  Tony is working out of his.

 Tony walks in a few minutes later, hair askew. “Wow, Rhodey, your servants hate me. I call it an achievement.”

“They just think it’s ok to judge since their scandals happened long ago enough for people to forget. You don’t deserve this.”

 “I probably do.” Tony shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me. Actually, it gives me the chance to ditch my politeness because they already dislike me.”

 “Oh for that luxury,” Rhodey sighs. He hates the protocol he must go through. Maybe that’s why he finds Tony so refreshing.

 They first met at a football match. Tony was on the other team, and he told the young prince, “We’re not playing any easier because you’re the prince. So, be ready for that.”

 Rhodey laughed and started playing. Tony’s team was clearly better, and they defeated Rhodey's team easily. After the game, Tony invited him to grab some lunch. They have been fast friends ever since.

 Now, Rhodey is 22 and Tony is 21. Tony’s father died last year, and Tony inherited his estate. After going over the numbers, Tony’s godfather, Obadiah Stane informed him that Howard had been falsifying records and was basically bankrupt.

 Dazed and reeling from his parents' sudden death, Tony doesn’t know what to do with this information. He reaches out for help, but as Howard had been stealing money from his peers, everyone refuses to help him. Rhodey offers to bail him out completely. Tony won’t let him. He decides he will work to pay off his father's debts.

 Tony was always incredibly smart. His patented inventions were used worldwide. He decides to start his own company, Stark Enterprises, where he builds and sells hi-tech machinery and entertainment devices. As his company quickly grows, he branches out into clean energy and satellites. Not even a full year after starting his company, Tony is very successful. With only Stane and his PA, Pepper Potts, at his right hand, Tony makes sure that he himself takes care of the books. Every entry is painstakingly entered and checked by the big boss himself.

 Rhodey is very proud of his friend, but it seems that his family is the only one in the kingdom that is. King Terrance and Queen Roberta love the young man as a son, but they often wonder if he is taking on too much, causing his sleepless nights and unhealthy eating habits. Tony waves them off saying he had had those problems before his parents had died.

 Prince James’ PR agent tells him that finding someone to date might be a good look for him. Everyone is looking for news of the royal family, and they will only assume the worst if they don’t hear from each member. Queen Roberta’s cooking classes and bingo games are televised. The king does a podcast twice a month. Jeannie plays tennis professionally. James is the only one without a big public profile, and he prefers that. However, there are some people who think that James is being pushed out of the spotlight or being abused in some kind. To quell any quickly rising rumors, Rhodey agrees to attend sports matches and talk to the press for a few minutes each time. When Tony’s not working his ass off, he often accompanies Tony.

 What Rhodey doesn’t tell his PR agent is the reason he doesn’t date. He is hopelessly in love with Tony and admitting that would be bad for a few reasons. 1.) Everyone in the country is against Tony. They would slander his name even more if they thought he had got his “money-grubbing claws” in the prince. 2.) Tony is straight. He had never told Rhodey otherwise, and he has only dated women as far as Rhodey knows. 3.) He doesn’t want any reason to make Tony uncomfortable in the only place he is welcome other than his home. So, he skirts the topic because fake dating is not his idea of fun.

 Now, Tony’s here and Rhodey knows he’s giving Tony heart eyes. “So, you’ve got a day off from me. What’s the plan, Rhodey?”

 “You pick today. I’m up for anything.” Rhodey trusts that Tony won’t do anything Rhodey can’t.

 Tony sits on the chair beside Rhodey. “I need to sit. I don’t think I’ve stopped moving for a week.”

 “So, what you’re saying is you need sleep.” Rhodey retorts.

“No, I need to spend time with my Rhodeybear. We never did that Star Wars marathon after Rise of Skywalker came out, did we?” Tony pokes him. “We can order like tons of pizza and greasy foods and bro it out like the old times.”

 Stuck in a theatre room with only Tony and highly unhealthy food? “Sounds like a great day. Let’s queue up the movies. I’ll have |Miss Cabe order our food. The usual?” Tony nods and heads off to the theater.

 Rhodey pulls out his phone and texts a maid, Bethany Cabe, to place an order for the following: an extra-large bacon pizza, two orders of cheesy curly fries, mozzarella sticks, and onion rings. Rhodey has cases of Tony’s favorite beer, so they did not need to worry about drinks.

 As they settle in to watch the movies, Tony tells him, “Wake me up if I fall asleep. I don’t want to miss Episode Six again.”

 “Come on Tones, Return of the Jedi isn’t the best.” Rhodey smirks.

 Tony glares at him. “It’s my favorite. Leave me alone. Go ahead and like Empire or whatever one you like the best. Geez.”

 “You know mine is Episode Three. The tragedy, the pain, the John Williams’ scores? A masterpiece.”

 “Anakin deserved better.” Tony mumbles as he eats a bite of pizza. Rhodey sighs. He’s heard this rant many times, and he’ll probably hear it again tonight. Tony really gets into these movies.

 Tony falls asleep at the end of A New Hope, his head falling on Rhodey’s shoulder. He looks so exhausted so Rhodey lets him sleep through Empire since Tony thinks it’s overhyped or something. Rhodey likes it. When Return of the Jedi starts, Rhodey nudges Tony awake. “Episode 6? Honeybear, you are an angel.” Tony kisses his cheek.

 By the time The Last Jedi comes on, both of the men are sleeping. Jeannette comes in to check on them and snaps a picture of Tony lying on top of Rhodey, both snoring away.

 Rhodey wakes up a few hours later and freezes. Tony is sleeping peacefully on him, his head on Rhodey’s chest. He doesn’t dare move in fear of waking Tony up. He slowly reaches for his phone and scrolls through Instagram and other social media apps until Tony wakes up.

 Tony wakes up slowly, but when he’s fully awake he jumps up and goes. “I’ve got to get to work!”

  “Hey Tony. It’s Sunday. We were going to spend Saturday and Sunday together, right?”

 “Oh. Oh. Whew. I thought.” Tony slumps. “Probably hallucinating from all that grease.”

 “Maybe we should get a little more sleep in a real bed.” Rhodey suggests. Tony nods, and they walk up to Rhodey’s room. Since they were kids, Tony always slept in Rhodey’s bed with him. They only ever slept and/or cuddled, and Rhodey has a king bed in case either of them needed their own space.

 They go to Jeannie’s tennis match then accompany her to an expensive Italian restaurant for dinner. The next morning, there are pictures splashed across the tabloids. Stark trying to get in with the Royal Family? Read more on page 3! One says. The Apple Doesn’t Fall far from the Tree – Another Gold-Digging Stark! Rhodey shakes his head. He was afraid this would happen. He calls his PR agent, Maria Hill.

She answers with a “Now do you see why having a partner would be good?”

 “Yes. Do you have any candidates who would be willing to date with no sex and/or strings attached? For public only?”

 “You don’t know how many celebrities only hope for that. Let me see which ones I can get. I’ll send you over a packet when I get them.”

 When he gets the packet, Rhodey isn’t surprised to find that 75% of them are women. Skipping through them, he tells Maria to reach out to an A-list actress Natasha Romanov. She is a beautiful woman, and they seem to have a lot of the same likes and dislikes. She agrees to meet with Rhodey at a small café near the palace. He introduces himself as Rhodey, then corrects it to “James or Jim” when Romanov gives him an odd look. “I’m sorry. My best friend always calls me Rhodey. It’s just what I expect now. I mean, if you want to call me that in private, it’s fine. Maria thinks it’s better if you call me James or Jim when talking with the press.”

“Tell me about this best friend.” Natasha leans forward. “He sounds like a nice guy.”

 Rhodey launches into a detailed description of Tony: his strengths, his flaws, his quirks, etc.  When he’s done, she asks, “And you’re dating me because you can’t date him?”

 “How did you…?”

 “You’re in love with him. Just look at your face. It’s ok. I won’t tell the press. I have almost the same problem. I’m in a poly relationship with a different celebrity couple. However, since Hollywood, even with its sex scandals, still looks down on poly relationships. I need a beard to keep our activity on the downlow. Is that acceptable for you?”

 Rhodey nods. “Of course. And you’re right. I love Tony, but I need to keep the press out of his life. His father put him through a lot, and he’s trying to make up for Howard’s sins. He doesn’t need the extra press coverage. Also, I don’t know if he likes me like that. I’ve never seen him date a guy.”

 “Well, I’d like to meet him.”

 +++++++ Natasha and Tony eventually meet. Tony is happy to meet her, but Rhodey feels that Tony is wearing one of his many masks. |When they kiss goodnight, Natasha tells him, “Rhodey, he likes you.”

 “Not that I want to doubt you, but I’m highly doubtful on this one here.”

 A few months pass, and Natasha and Prince James are photographed at red carpet events, at sports games, and at galas. Rumors are spreading that Prince James might propose soon. Natasha shows up at the palace for a surprise visit. “Hey, can we talk?” She pulls James from his family dinner.

 She tells him how the couple that she is dating are planning on coming out to the press as poly with her because they know some younger people who are receiving hate for their relationships. They want to be allies for such people. And they want her there when they come out. “Can we say we amicably split? I’d love to keep in contact with you.”

 “That sounds good.” His phone pings. He has a google alert set up for Tony because the press likes to come up to him for hostile interviews at the most inopportune times. James does his best to save him. “Listen Nat, I will talk to my publicist, but I have to go.”

 The press has trapped Tony on the palace driveway. “What do you think of Prince James marrying Ms. Romanov?” One reporter asks.

 “I didn’t know they got engaged, but I think they are an excellent match. Well-suited for each other.” Rhodey can see Tony is keeping his press face on but was not ready for the sudden press conference.

 Another reporter sneers. “We know you were trying to get a piece of the royalty. Will you try for the princess now that the prince is spoken for?”

 “Excuse me?” Tony reels. “What are you talking about?”

 “They’ll never have you. You’re just a charity case to them. What do you think of that? Did you think Prince James really liked you? Especially after what your father did?” Another reporter shoves a microphone in his face.

 Tony loses his mask. “Do I think Rho- Prince James really liked me? I have known the prince since we were young teenagers. I know he likes me… as a friend. But anything more? No. He never did, never will. I know what my father did; I know what I have to do to fix it. My father and Prince James have no correlation. What are you even trying to say here?” Rhodey can see the pain in Tony’s eyes. They flash when he says that Rhodey will never like him as anything more as a friend.

 “Excuse me.” Rhodey steps forward. “Can you step away from him, please?”

 The press apologizes and steps away. “Now, I want to say this once more and hopefully never again. Lord Stark is not his father. Lord Stark is paying his father’s investors back as quickly as he can. He started up his business on his own with his trust fund from his maternal grandmother. Howard never saw or added to a penny of that fund. What is the point of hating a man for the sins of his father? Keep rolling. I am talking to the country as a whole. Leave him alone, please. I want to say one more thing. Tony Stark, you are the love of my life. The reason I have not dated is because the only person I have ever loved was you. Yes, Natasha and I dated, but we did to keep other things hidden. I’m sure she will let you know at some point. It’s not my job. Tony, again, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and perhaps rule with you. I do not have a ring yet because I had not planned to propose to you in front of live TV today, yet here I am. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

 “You’re serious?” Tony gasps.

 “Completely.”

 “Then Rhodey, my Honeybear, my Platypus, my Sourpatch, I will marry you in a heartbeat.” Tony smiles widely, and Rhodey kisses him deeply, in front of the cameras. As they turn to the palace, Tony turns back to the cameras, lifts his middle finger, and says, “Fuck you” whilst smiling sweetly.

 ++++++ The country is so shocked at Prince James’ dramatic proposal. People wonder if Tony is a good fit for the prince due to his blatant disregard for protocol. Princess Jeannie posts the picture she took of them sleeping in the theatre room on Instagram, the caption “I knew it.” She broke the internet with the most likes on an Instagram post.

  Tony goes through his numbers and his father’s numbers again to make sure everyone is paid off. While looking at his father’s records again, he notices some discrepancies from Obadiah’s report. The truth comes out – Howard had not done anything wrong; it was Obadiah. He falsified documents, records, and even bills to give him much more money. Obadiah is fired and imprisoned. Tony’s name is cleared. Anthony Stark marries Prince James Rhodes a happy man.

[gloves94]

To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 18

Rating: PG-13  Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Violence! Blood!

CHAPTER MASTERLIST MY MASTERLIST

"By far the most horrifying thing to happen at the World Cup was Saintday's make over," Pansy scoffed bitterly with a deep frown on her features.

Daphne who had been sitting in the same train compartment as Malfoy, Zabini and Parkinson lightly rolled her eyes. She had been growing sick and tired of Pansy's pessimistic attitude and the fact she seemed to criticize everything and everyone around her. She had no doubt the standards also applied to her behind her back.

"I liked it," Daphne said tossing a strand of hair over her shoulder vainly. "You're awfully picky and even you fancied it, didn't you Blaise?"

"Saintday might actually look decent now, but she's still as wicked as a doxy. You can see it in her eyes.” Zabini said lowering the copy of the Daily Prophet he was reading. The cover of it depicting the Dark Mark that had been casted over the Quidditch World Cup campgrounds. “Not that I mind,” He added slimily the edge of his lip turning up.

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes, he simply kept a disinterested gaze focused on the blurring greens and blues outside of the window. Nel’s eyes, doxy like wouldn’t have been how he described them. Maybe he would’ve used the word intense, usually pregnant with a strong emotion be it rage, sadness, mischief and on rare occasions joy. Like when she took the first bite of a lemon tart or whenever Ireland scored back at the Quidditch World Cup.  

“What do you think Draco?” Pansy who looked beyond irritated tossed the question at him. “Hm?” He asked after a moment suddenly caught off-guard.

“See, he didn’t even notice,” Satisfied by his disinterest in the topic. Pansy rolled her eyes towards her friend. “You know what they say. You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear,” She said nastily. “Snelly Nelly might have a new wardrobe but she’s still a graceless, nameless clod. Even the Lestrange wouldn’t claim her.”

“Stars, Pansy, are you always so unbearable?” Daphne scoffed fully annoyed before standing up and leaving the compartment. Her attitude getting on the last of her nerves.

“What?” Pansy looked at her incredulously a confused look on her pug like face. “Was it something I said?”

Daphne shut the door behind her. Blaise nudged Malfoy who seemed completely out of tune with reality.

“Something on your mind?” The Egyptian boy asked his friend partly concerned but more in a nosey matter.

Xxxxx

‘Mr. Black, I really wish we could have had a more proper conversation when we met. I have a lot of questions and it seems like we have reached a miscommunication, so here I am, writing to you demanding asking for an explanation. Seeking answers to unanswered questions.

You claimed you ‘saved’ me from some very dark people. Who? Why? How did you find me? Why did you take me away from this ‘bad’ place? I don’t mean to preach about my miserable young life, but perhaps things would have been better this way. Maybe then I wouldn’t have grown up in a hellish orphanage where I was locked up in a dark room in isolation and starved for most of my life. Or adopted by a Pureblood fanatic who keeps me tied to a chair in a locked room.

Why did you steal my life?

Why didn’t you kill me?

Why did you take me?”

I hope this letter isn’t an inconvenience, but I really need answers.

E. Saintday.’

The compartment’s door opened and Nel raised her eyes from the parchment she was currently writing as she lay spread across the emerald green seat.

“Hey Daphne!” Tracey greeted with a chirp as their chamber mate slid into the compartment. Theodore seemed to sit up, run a hand through his hair and lower the book he was reading.

“Greengrass,” Nel acknowledged and lowered her feet when the girl took a seat on the same side as her. She didn’t ask why she had bothered to grace them with her presence much too preoccupied in sealing the letter she would give to Harry when she saw him.

“How are you Elowen?” She greeted politely. “I heard you got lost at the Quidditch match,” she said tucking her skirt under her legs as she took a seat. The girl raised her dark eyes and looked at Theo and Tracey who had probably shared his information with the blonde. Then down at the newspaper she was using to support her writing. The cover of the newspaper of course had the horrifying capture of the Death Mark moving in the front. The fanged skull that had a snake crawling and knotting in a silent scream. It was chilling.

“Are we not going to talk about it?” The girl asked sitting up.

An awkward silence filled the compartment at what the orphan was insinuating. Of course, she had heard the rumors before, of course she knew what kind of people most of the parents of her Slytherin peers were. Death Eaters. Loyal followers of You-Know-Who. People who idolized and worshipped the purity of Wizard blood, or so was what she had gathered from living with the Lestranges.  

“All of you knew. Didn’t you?” She accused with a serious expression.

“Nel, I-I didn’t,” Tracey shook her head. “I was with my dad.” She said defensibly bringing a hand to her chest. Her eyes darted to Theodore who let out an exhausted sight. “I knew something was coming, but not- nothing like that,” he said darkly lowering his gaze in shame at the activities his father engaged in.

“Did you?” She analyzed Daphne’s face carefully for any sign of betrayal or evidence she was lying. “No. Dad said he wanted me home early and that’s that.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek processing their words. As far as she knew the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Not that she had ever heard any of them make any vulgar comments or focus on the blood status of other people.

“You don’t understand,” Theodore slammed his book shut quite dramatically and sat up. His nostrils lightly flaring as his expression turned into an angry one at his friend’s judgment. “I am not my father. I don’t subscribe to that agenda and you know that Elowen and I don’t care what you or anybody else thinks. I am not my father!” He snapped furiously his voice raising in the loud sentence.

The girls all looked a little struck by his anger. It seemed like a nerve had been struck.

“Theo,” Tracey reached out and placed a comforting arm on his shoulder. “We know,” She said quietly.

Just like Theodore didn’t know what happened to Elowen behind Wool’s closed doors or in La Maison de Lestrange she didn’t know what happened to him behind closed doors. All she knew was that his mother had tragically passed away when he was young.

“I understand,” Daphne spoke quietly, toying with her thumbs almost as in shame. “I do think things are easier if, well, bloods don’t mix, but things are far much worse with You-Know-Who around. Him coming back… It would be like a storm with no end. Not just for muggleborns, but for all of us.”

A sullen silence filled the room. The Slytherins looked down in shame, unsure how to continue. How to carry on a conversation that was much too painful and made them vulnerable to each other. The room felt suddenly void of any air. It was almost unbearable. Tracey eyed the small window of the compartment praying that the trolley lady would interrupt and just break the tension between the four.

“In other news-“ Nel butted thankfully and Daphne looked at her confused as she stood on the seat and waved her arms comically as she tried to find her balance. “I’ve got a secret,” She teased mischievously wiggling her eyebrows.

“What is it?” Tracey inquired suddenly sharing her mood for mischief. Relived that somebody had changed the gloomy topic.

“You have to guess,” She teased.

“It could literally be anything,” Theodore protested. “Don’t tell me you’re somehow related to Potter, Weazelbee or some painful sort of story like that.”

Nel smiled wickedly before opening her trunk and pulling out a piece of paper which she now kept hidden under her shirt. “Normally I wouldn’t do this,” She said shrugging casually. “But it’ll give us something else to dissect.”

It was true.

“I met a boy,” she said bringing a hand to her mouth to hide her growing smile.

“Pretty boy Diggory?” Theodore scoffed. “What!” Tracey exclaimed excitedly leaning on the edge of her seat. Daphne looked surprised at her revelation.

“Under love’s heavy burden do I sink,” She struck her chest dramatically as she quoted Shakespeare before collapsing on top of Daphne who lightly shrieked at the impact. She figured none of them would catch that reference. “Let’s keep this in the compartment shall we Daph?” She said directly to the blonde still with a smile on her face.

“Who?” All three leaned forward intrigued sounding more like a chorus of owls than their usual selves.

Nel sat up straight removing herself from Daphne’s lap and pulled out the animated photograph she had been hiding inside of her shirt. Both Tracey and Theodore squinted their eyes taking the picture in their hands looking at the square faced, thin stranger, with dreamy eyes and curly dark waves. They were about to ask who it was when Daphne beat them to it.

“Ellar Lestrange?” She gawped eyes wide at the reveal, being familiar with the older teen.

“Lestrange?” Tracey’s expression twisted to one of pure confusion.

“Isn’t he…” Theo tip toed around the subject. “Your adoptive brother?” A smile cracked on his face before her two friends began laughing obnoxiously. “He’s not my brother!” She snapped flustered before snatching the picture back into her safe keeping. He really wasn’t. She hoped that Cloelia wouldn’t notice she had swiped it from one of her frames.

“You’re in love with your brother!” Theodore laughed the loudest even clutching his stomach as he tossed his head back. “Merlin, that’s revolting Nel!” Tracey added also laughing.

“We are not related,” She stuck her tongue out.

It was true. Her an Ellar were not related by blood as far as she knew. The two looked nothing alike. They didn’t even share the same last name and Cloelia was far from being a motherly figure to her.

“Also, I’m not in love with him,” She rolled her eyes. She really just fancied the boy.

“Sure, you just happen to be carrying a picture of him.”

The three were laughing while Daphne remained extremely quiet. Of course, she was familiar with the young man’s name and infamous reputation.

“Does he fancy you back?” Daphne asked combing her hair in almost a nervous manner. “Well...” Saintday looked up appearing lost in thought for a moment.

Ellar was… odd. He was complicated. He was older. Maybe it was something that came with age. Somedays he’d be terribly rude, other’s he’d join her in the private study and tell her stories about his days in Beauxbaton and the two would sip some wine behind his mother’s back. He had kissed her hand that one time, he told her he liked her dresses. Sometimes she would catch him starring at her from across the table. However, in the last week- the last time she had seen him was at the Quidditch World Cup. She didn’t know if he had returned home or not. If he had, he hadn’t bothered with seeing or even setting her free from the binds that kept her tied up to the chair in her room for that hellish week.

“I don’t know,” She sighed suddenly sounding tired. “He’s a student at Beauxbaton so he’s going to be at Hogwarts for the year! Maybe, we’ll see,” She said coyly.

Daphne couldn’t sit idly by any longer. She had to say something. “Oh,” The blonde broke her silence. “You do not want a guy like Ellar Lestrange to like you,” she warned shaking her head slightly. “I have a cousin that worked with him at the French Ministry of Magic, she says he’s, well, unwell.”

All three turned to look at Daphne with a confused expression. What did that even mean.

“What I’m trying to say is he’s not the best company to keep around.”

Tracey and Theo looked at their crushing friend somewhat concerned. Nel on the other hand raspberried at Daphne’s warning.  

“Please,” She half scoffed in a dismissive tone. “I live with the bloke. He’s not half bad.”

“Right,” Theo added biting his lower lip. “Because he’s your brother!” Tracey laughed loudly.

Elowen crossed her hands over her chest and sank into her seat casting her friends an irritated look. “Not my brother,” She grumbled under her breath.

Again, he really wasn’t.