#anyway it's been a hot minute since this got updated so whoops here we are

[dearophelia]

gonna set your flag on fire - chapter 9

chapter 09: the house don’t fall when the bones are good

operational security [read on AO3]

it’s been a hot minute with this one, whoops. eternal and forever thanks to @tarysande and @nightingaleseeking for their cheerleading through this.

“Olivia?” Garrus calls. The audible panic in his subvocals makes him wince.

“Bedroom!” comes the answer.

Garrus takes a moment to breathe. The Normandy won’t be here for hours yet and packing won’t take long. He can spend these thirty seconds to breathe now, before walking upstairs and seeing Olivia. He might not have them later.

Good air in, bad air out.

He allows himself to take a full minute in the silence of their home for a moment of calm and quiet. The hour since Olivia called him has been pure chaos: reschedule his week, call the Primarch, don’t forget the dinner party tonight for the new quarian economic delegation or tomorrow's breakfast with the forensic auditors from Irune Galactic, find suitably-important people to replace him at both events (and everything else this week), have someone pick up his gear, avoid looking panicked while doing any of this.

The silence is overwhelming and welcome. He closes his eyes and takes another breath before going upstairs.

He finds Olivia kneeling on the floor of their bedroom, packing.

Thirty years ago, chasing Saren across the galaxy, he’d watched in awe as his commanding officer stood firm and stoic in the face of utter mayhem. Nothing rattled her, nothing shook her steady posture. He’d never had a CO before who was that calm.

He knows her better now. The calm is how she gets through things. The calm is how she’s made through to the other side of trauma and crisis in one piece over and over again. Her voice doesn’t shake and neither does her resolve, but there’s a certain fragile steel in her spine that betrays the façade.

She may look calm to anyone else, but Garrus knows that Olivia is fucking terrified.

She’s thrown a sheet on the floor and laid her armor out on top of it. Shiny black and purple, with a scratch she never bothered to buff out on the left thigh. Her Black Widow and Avenger lay next to it.

“Vega’s letting you on the ground team?” It’s not the first thing he anticipated saying to her. He’d planned to say something idiotic, like are you okay. Of course she isn’t. He’s so far from okay that it doesn’t sound like a real word. Olivia can’t be closer.

She pauses, hand on her visor. “I’d like to see him try to stop me,” she says, slow and low and even.

Garrus would too, but Vega’s not that stupid. Olivia may not have seen any action outside the Arena in twenty years, but she has standing platinum matches three times a week; if he’s available or any of their friends are on the station and willing, she’ll pull them into it – otherwise, she goes solo. Last he checked, her stats were 7:1 extracting.

His are 6:1 and his assistant picked up his armor this afternoon.  “He’ll have to go through both of us.”

She finally looks up at him.

He swallows. The expression on her face is identical to the one she wore while staring down a reaper. “I’m going.” Olivia isn't the only unstoppable force in their family. There are a million reasons he shouldn’t even be on the ship, let alone groundside, but not one of them stands up against Cerberus having control of his daughter. This mission is too important to leave solely in the hands of other people.

Olivia sits back on her heels and sighs. “Wasn’t gonna stop you, Garrus,” she says softly. “Vega's meeting us at Soyuz-Janiri tomorrow with whatever resources he can scrounge up.”

Garrus steps around her, letting his hand briefly brush against her shoulder. He ducks into the closet to change out of his robes. “Good.” That was the last part of the plan, the only piece she didn't have locked into stone when she called. He exchanges his council robes for a pair of comfortable loose pants and a tunic. “When does the Normandy arrive?” he asks, stepping out of the closet. She told him the rest of the specifics this afternoon, but everything is a dull roar after Cerberus has Nora, Garrus: they activated the chip. Some part of him thinks he should be upset that she waited to tell him last. Another part of him knows that he'd call her last, too.

“4:45 in the morning.” She closes and locks her armor trunk and then stands, gathering the sheet. She balls it up and drops it in their laundry basket. “So we have,” she checks the clock, “ten hours to kill.”

Garrus takes a step forward and draws Olivia close into the hug he’s needed to give her – and needed to get from her – since she called. He wraps his arms tight around her, flattening his hands across her back as she tucks herself against him. He feels her breath shake and her arms circle around him just as tight.

After a few moments, he bows his head and kisses the top of her head. “We’ll get her back,” he whispers into her hair. They have to. They’ll rescue Nora and her team from that facility. And then they’ll turn the chip off again, this time for good. There is no alternative.

“I know,” she says quietly.

Tugging her closer, Garrus hums softly, a low, gentle, calming rumble he knows she likes. He ghosts his hands over her, slowly rubbing her back in soothing circles.

After a few moments, Olivia briefly tightens her hug and then takes half a step back. Garrus looks at his wife, keeping his arms still loosely wrapped around her. His heart twists in his chest. The lines on Olivia’s face, earned from decades of smiles and laughter, now look hollow and haunted.

He remembers the night in their quarters after Thessia, when the light hit just right and he thought for the briefest of moments that she was becoming a ghost before his eyes. She’d shattered in his arms, wild and feral and desperate, in a way he’s so grateful he hasn’t seen since. But as Olivia looks up at him tonight, twenty-five years of motherhood in her spine, Garrus knows that the night after Thessia fell will pale in comparison to how both of them will shatter if this doesn’t work.

So it's going to work.

Leaning down to bump his forehead against hers, he lets his subvocals shift a little deeper into a tone that will settle them both. “Let’s get some food.” Ten hours is a long time to have nothing to do. Neither of them will spend any of it sleeping.

As if on cue, her stomach growls. She laughs softly at herself and steps away.

“Have you eaten since breakfast?” Garrus asks as they walk downstairs to the kitchen. Food is the first thing Olivia always forgets during a crisis, followed very quickly by sleep. He can’t change that about her, but he can encourage her to get both.

“I had coffee?” she says, half a question, as if the whipped cream on her afternoon frozen coffee might qualify as food.

“Coffee hasn’t counted as food in the thirty years I’ve known you, Liv,” he gently chides. “It’s not suddenly going to start counting now.”

Olivia ignores him and opens the refrigerator, only to stare blankly at the levo side. "Takeout," she decides. Neither of them are in the right headspace to make anything. She sits down on the middle stool at the counter and opens the delivery app on her omnitool. He sits beside her and does the same.

“Oh,” she says after a moment. “You should order for two.”

Garrus raises a brow plate.

“Nico’s coming.”

The plate rises higher. Nico’s been working at the bakery for the past eight years. He officially took over from Hannah two years ago when she and Zaeed moved to Earth. Out of their two sons, he is not who Garrus would guess if asked who was coming on this mission.

She sends her order off. “We need a decryption specialist and he’s the best one I know.”

Garrus can’t fault that logic; Nico’s knee kept him from an active combat position and his entire deployment was spent in intelligence programs so classified Garrus didn’t even know they existed until he became councilor. He quickly orders for himself and his youngest son and then looks back at Olivia. “He’s staying on the ship though, right?” While their other two children took to combat like it was in their blood, Nico counted down the days until basic was over and he could get away from gunfire.

Olivia nods with a smile. “That’s the first thing he asked me, too. Yes.”

“Good.” Worrying about one kid is enough; he’d rather not have to worry about two. Or three. He wonders if Quentus has somehow found out and is currently badgering Solana to divert their current mission to Zorya.

***

James blinks as the airlock door opens to reveal not only Liara, Miranda, and Wrex, but also Deck and her entire team. “Thought you were on the other side of the galaxy,” he says, stepping aside to let everyone past him.

“I cashed in a favor,” Deck says. “Incidentally, the Blue Suns have some pretty wicked experimental quantum drives.”

He holds up his hand before she can continue. “I don’t want to know,” he says. “Find a bunk downstairs. Briefing’s in thirty. We’ll debrief on your thing once this is over.”

“Roger,” she says and gestures for the other three to follow her through the CIC to the elevator.

Wrex nods as he passes, revealing Jack and Tali standing in the space behind him. James looks over at his wife. Liara shrugs and gives him a small smile. He’s not sure whether the extra reinforcements are a good thing, but he’ll never turn down help. Tali hugs him, Jack gives a curt nod, and then he’s finally alone with Liara.

“Hi,” he says, drawing her into a hug. He wraps his strong arms around her shoulders and kisses her forehead. Nora’s family to him, but so are the other five trapped in that base. He’s had to mount rescues before, but this keeps getting worse the more he learns about it.

Liara hugs him back, just as tight. “Hello,” she says, giving him a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “I thought you might need the extra backup; I did not realize you’d have Anubis back.”

“Neither did I,” he says, walking side-by-side with her through the CIC to the war room. “The more the merrier.” He nods at the crew they pass. Everyone looks so young. He supposes he’s gotten old.

James feels the Normandy shudder as the docking clamps release, followed by a brief wobbly moment before the inertial dampeners kick in. He gestures for Liara to go through the war room security checkpoint first. Three days. He takes a deep breath. He needs his guys to hang on for three more days.

“You’re the reason I have children,” Wrex is saying when James enters the room. “You think I’m not gonna come help you get your kid back?”

Shepard looks like she’s about to cry.

Jack crosses her arms and shifts her weight; the red holographic display casts angry shadows across her face. “Cerberus doesn’t get to fuck with kids as long as I’m alive.”

“You’re my friend,” Tali says. And then she shrugs. “Plus, I was already on the station.”

At that, Shepard laughs. “I’m glad you’re all here, thank you.” And then her eyes settle on Liara.

James doesn’t know what it is that Liara sees, but she lets out a soft, sad sigh before making her way down the stairs and over to Shepard.

Liara hugs Shepard tightly and doesn’t let go. Everyone talks around them, letting the two of them fade into the background and share their quiet little hug in the corner alone.

Out of the corner of his eye, James sees Garrus step into the room and stand beside him. He turns. Garrus is watching Shepard and Liara in much the same way he was.

“How’s she doing?” James asks. He wishes he could just ask as her friend. But Shepard's on the ground team and he needs to know.

“Not good,” Garrus says.

The understatement in Garrus’ voice is crystal clear and James looks up at him. “How are you doing?”

Garrus slowly turns and looks at him. “Not good,” he repeats, with the same clipped tone.

Exhaling, James nods. If their positions were reversed, not good would be an understatement for him, too.

***

“Why do I always have to be the one to do this?” Rachel asks with a sigh. It’s almost time for them to come collect the empty lunch trays. She’d actually enjoyed lunch today; there was an apple.

“Always?” Micah asks. “You mean this is not the first time you’ve done this?”

She shakes her head.

“It always has to be you because you look the least intimidating,” Jonah says.

“People underestimating me is largely how I've gotten this far,” Rachel says cheerily. The door opens and a single guard enters while another stands at the door. “I hate this part,” she murmurs to herself.

Rachel waits until he’s deactivating her forceshield and then bends over, her hair hiding her face from them. She dry heaves a few times and then makes herself throw up the remnants of lunch. She stands up straight, stumbles a little and pushes her hair back out of her face. “I don’t feel good,” she tells the guard.

“Sorry,” he says.

She gags again, making sure to aim in his direction. She wipes the back of her hand over her mouth when he looks up at her in disgust. “Told you.”

The other guard sighs. “We should take her in to medical. Turner says we need these guys alive for the time being.”

“Fine,” he says, gesturing for her to come out of the cell.

Keeping her hands up, showing that she has no intentions, Rachel follows the guards out.

“Hey!” Carlos shouts after them. “Send someone to clean this up! It’s gonna smell!”

Rachel counts guards and doorways and turns, making a mental map of the immediate area around the cells. They pass a stairway marked roof access, and there’s noise coming from the closet next to the stairs. It’s quiet, but definitely music. She listens as hard as she can without revealing herself.

Love beyond moons, love beyond stars!

They walk past the closet and take another turn to the left, but Rachel bites back a smile as the song fades. She’s found their gear.

***

Her caffeine load inevitably crashes and Olivia stumbles into bed beside Garrus. Though she’s exhausted, and even took a sleeping pill, sleep eludes her. Olivia rolls onto her side, then her stomach, then her back. She waits twenty minutes and then tries the whole cycle again. After three attempts, she gives up and stares at the ceiling while Garrus snores softly beside her. He's always been able to sleep anywhere, anytime, as long as he knows someone's keeping watch.

She could lie here in bed and get increasingly more annoyed about being awake, or she could do something useful. She brushes a kiss to Garrus’ forehead and then noiselessly slips out of bed.

Tugging a blue Alliance-branded sweatshirt over her head, Olivia stuffs her feet into her boots. Her black pajama pants get stuck in the cuffs and she pulls them out, wishing she’d had the foresight to bring sneakers. She really ought to change into BDUs since she’s going to be out of quarters, but she’s a civilian now and it’s the middle of the night.

She and Garrus are in a two-bunk officer’s quarters, sharing only with James and Liara. It’s small, but it isn’t sleeper pods and it isn’t the barracks-like atmosphere downstairs: with fifteen extra passengers, there aren't enough bunks for everyone and they've thrown every spare couch and chair and pillow into the lounges for impromptu sleeping space. Olivia tiptoes around the other bed, noting that James is the only one in it, and grabs her tablet before slipping out.

Yawning, Olivia steps onto the elevator and presses the control panel for Deck Four. If she’s not going to sleep, she’s going to need coffee. They still have two days; she’ll properly crash later. She runs her fingers through her hair and yawns again before the elevator doors open. The Normandy’s nighttime lights are dim and soft, and she’s in the galley with her hand on the coffeemaker before she notices the figure sitting at the table, hunched over a glowing tablet.

She starts a fresh pot and then walks over to him. “What are you still doing up?” she asks quietly, softly rubbing her son’s back.

Nico sighs and looks up at her. “Trying to break this. I think I’m close to the second decryption level.” He blinks. “Didn’t you and Dad go to bed?”

Olivia slides into a chair opposite him. “He did,” she sighs. “I gave up.”

He looks at her, then over at the coffeemaker burbling happily as it drips into a mug. “Going the Nora route of staying up until your body can’t take it anymore?” He lifts a browplate.

She shrugs and curls a little into her sweatshirt; she’s not proud to say Nora didn’t develop that habit in a vacuum. “Works every time." She reaches across the table and clasps his hand. “I’m sorry I pulled you away for this.” Nico chose a non-military life and it was for a reason. Desperately needing his decryption skills doesn’t change that she feels guilty pulling him away from his own life and back into one he left.

He smiles as she stands to get her coffee. “She’s my sister,” he says simply. “I have people who can handle the bakery for a few days and Lucien can feed my fish.”

Smiling, Olivia returns to her seat, steaming mug in hand. She takes a sip; Alliance coffee hasn't gotten much better in the years since she left, but it’s still tolerable. “Have you two found a place yet?”

“We have a few in mind,” Nico says. “But trying to find something that’s close to the bakery and his precinct and in our price range is harder than we thought.”

Olivia nods. “Apartment hunting sucks,” she commiserates. She does not miss it; designing their home from scratch was one of the best decisions she and Garrus ever made. “What are you going to do with the one above the bakery?”

His tablet beeps with a sad noise and he sighs. He types a few thing and then looks up at her. “I’m thinking about keeping it for when my brother needs to drink himself silly again.”

Olivia winces. “How’s he doing?” She’s had a few emails from Quentus since he left the Citadel. He’s excited about his new assignment, but rejection has always stung strong for her eldest.

Nico shrugs and pushes his tablet aside while the program runs. “He’s upset. But the new assignment’s helping. Solana has him leading a ground team and they have some crazy new tech he can’t tell me about.”

“It’s stealth,” Liara says around a wide yawn. She drops into the chair next to Olivia. “The Hierarchy’s working on no-discharge zero-emission stealth drives.” She picks up Olivia’s mug and takes a sip.

“Get your own,” Olivia says, sliding the mug out of Liara’s reach once she’s set it down. “What are you doing up?”

Liara yawns again. “Talking to vorcha.”

Olivia silently slides her mug back toward Liara. She gets up to pour herself another. “Anything useful?”

“Updated topographical maps, a weather report, and a headache.”

Nico’s tablet beeps, happy and successful this time. “Finally.” He looks up to find both his mother and Liara looking at him expectantly. “Updated base schematics, guard rotations, rolling door codes.”

“Nicely done,” Olivia says, leaning against the counter.

"The base is definitely central ops for Project Damocles, but I'm also finding something about a Project Gemini. No assets on base, just some bio metadata in cached email."

Olivia glances at Liara. "What are the chances that's not what I think it is?" Under normal circumstances, hearing about a Cerberus Project Gemini would cause her stomach to drop all the way through the ship and out into space. As it is, she's not sure her stomach has been inside her body since she got the call from Vega.

"Slim," her friend confirms.

Sighing, Olivia shakes her head at Nico's raised browplate. "Way above your clearance level," she tells him. "Forward all of it to Alliance Central Intelligence." Leave it to Cerberus to keep that particular project going. She never thought she'd label her clone a Tomorrow Problem, but a lot of things she never thought would happen have happened in the last 48 hours.

"And me," Liara says.

"And her."

The observation bay door opens, and loud, excitable indistinct conversation filters out before being silenced again as the door closes. Ashley walks into the mess and straight for the coffee. “We’ve officially given up on stealth,” she says, pouring herself some coffee and setting it to brew more. “Just rush the gates.”

“Blowing the door down has always worked well for us,” Olivia muses.

“That’s what I thought,” Ashley says, sitting down beside Liara. “They’re still working on a way past the AA guns that doesn’t involve a two-day hike through the jungle, though.” She looks at the clock and then back in the direction of the observation bay. “Were we ever that young?"

"No," Olivia says.

“Speak for yourselves, please,” Liara says with a grin.

Laughing, Ashley lightly shoves Liara’s shoulder.

“Uh, Captain?” Joker’s voice crackles over the comm.

Ashley sighs with a distinct tone of I don’t want to hear it. "Yeah?"

“We’ve got a ship on intercept course. Unknown configuration.”

“Keep us quiet,” she says. “I’m on my way.” She gestures for Olivia to follow her.

Olivia stands and takes one last sip of coffee. "Keep working on the AA guns," she tells Nico before following Ashley.

“What’s the likelihood this is just a coincidence?” Ashley asks once they’re both in the elevator and rising.

There’s math she could do to figure out the exact probability, but Olivia knows a rhetorical question when she hears it. “First time for everything,” she says.

“They’re hailing us,” Joker says when they walk into the cockpit. “Unknown frequency.” He turns in his seat and looks at Ashley. “What do you want me to do?”

"They shouldn't even be able to see us," Ashley says.

"And yet." Joker gestures to the communication panel and its blinking light.

Ashley waits a moment, shares a long look with Olivia, and then shrugs. “Here’s hoping no one’s dumb enough to fire on us,” she says. “And here’s hoping today isn’t the day that logic runs out. Answer it.”

The viewscreen flickers on. Olivia smiles.

“Heard you were on a rescue mission,” Solana says, Quentus standing behind her. “Anything we can do to help?”

[quirklessidiot]

title : cigarettes and parfaits [3] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, slice of life, josei, angst, comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right?

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT) i keep forgeting to add that this isnt beta-rread..all of my stories arent so yeah shshs Notes: ah, i feel like this story will be lengthen more than 8-10 chapters shshshs i wanted to add a little spice anyways thanks for all the comments uwu ily all!

Masterlist || taglist || [prev ; next] [updates; every saturday!]

“Y/N-chan!!!”

You cringe in embarrassment as soon as you hear that awfully familiar and cheerful voice, you could barely remember this man and the events that transpired the night before but here he was, acting like your new best friend. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to go here but you needed clarity. Surely you didn’t just legally marry a man at an Izakaya out of all places last night?

“Oh, you actually did marry him.” Gojo Satoru proclaims as soon as you take a seat across him, he gestures around his face, “I could tell by your whole, ‘I hope this guy is messing with me’ face. You have it, signed and sealed. Even got the cute matchy rings that I had one of my assistants delivered.”

You pale at the thought of his assistant coming in with a silver ring. Wasn’t he sober? How could he not have stopped you two from doing something as reckless and stupid as this? Weren’t older men supposed to be more responsible than this?

“Why the hell didn’t you stop us?” You groaned, burying your face in your hands, embarrassment painted all over your features.

“I was just as drunk as you two.” He confessed, scratching his head, “probably even more drunk but anyways back to the topic in hand, I only remembered it when the same assistant came in and congratulated me about it. It’s good I had your number on my phone before you two bailed.”

“So you don’t really remember?”

“Bits and pieces.” Gojo grinned, this guy was a maniac, how did the serious man you met just this morning have friends like this? You probably wouldn’t even last long, “I did call Nanami-”

He’s cut off by the rough sound of someone pulling a chair out, you immediately jump on your seat when you realize it’s Nanami Kento, the guy from this morning. The man you had recklessly married!

“This better be some prank you’re pulling, Satoru.” His voice was anything but kind that you almost wanted to hide behind Gojo’s back.

“Hey, hey.” Gojo raises his hands, “Don’t look at me. I didn’t force you into anything and stop scaring your poor little partner.”

Nanami snaps his gaze towards you and you notice how his eyes soften just a bit when he sees your red ears and your eyes looking away from him, “You better call Geto and fucking fix this, I refuse to bother this young-”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off, still shy and red, “It’s...fine...I just…Please don’t think I’m burdened by it. It was technically my fault for even agreeing immediately.”

Nanami clenches his jaw and turns away, “Nevertheless. L/N-san’s young. I hope to not be such an uncouth man like you.” he retorts, voice sharp as he eyes the white-haired businessman up and down. Gojo, seemingly used to it, rolls his eyes behind his dark shades.

“Maybe you guys should try it out.”

The blonde man looks like he’s about to smite the white-haired man out of existence yet Satoru remains oblivious to his friend’s gaze, “Don’t ya think so? It will take a while for those divorce papers to settle in so why don’t you two go out and get to know each other? Who knows…” he sing-songs the last part and Nanami is so close to chunking his briefcase towards the tall businessman, not even caring 

“Ah, he’s not exactly wrong, Nanami-san.” you try to calm him down, placing a small hand on his broad shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually listening to this idiot’s idea.” Nanami replied, gaze narrowing.

“Not really but you have some problems I can help you out on and I have problems that you can help me out on...Of course, the last say is on you...”

“Told you I actually had a brain.” Satoru piped in.

“Shut up, Satoru.” he quips, then turns to you, “I’m thirteen years older than you, L/N-san. I have two high school kids that could pass off as your siblings, and-”

“Well, I technically did marry you.”

“You were drunk.”

“Doesn’t exactly really excuse it.” You laugh nervously, “The whole divorce process usually lasts up to a few months, some even takes a whole year. I could help you out with the boys and I can use you to ward my family off from moving back home.”

Nanami is quiet for a moment, actually thinking about it. Weighing the pros and the cons, not only would you be able to help him out but you’d also be able to get Gojo and blind-dating out of his back.

There really wasn’t anything he could loose, really.

“Or you two might fall in love.” Satoru teases, making Nanami throw him another side-eye, as if saying ‘I dare you to say another word.’

It’s a Thursday today and Sukuna absolutely loathed Thursdays     apparently because it reminded him of Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. They all were far from the weekend     Everyone seems to be happier than usual though. Maybe it was because you were there teaching some basic shit at the board or something.

“...and if we transfer this here and change the positive to a negative, you’ll end up having five as your answer.” You smile, placing your chalk down, “Does anyone have any questions?”

Echoes of no’s resonated throughout the room.

“Alright then, let’s end the lesson here so you guys can have an early lunch. I don’t think an assignment is in order since many of you were able to get a perfect score in the activity awhile ago.” You winked. A couple of whoops resonated throughout the whole class right after. 

As the kids shuffle out of the room of the class, Sukuna remains behind. The ojisan had cooked them something delicious this morning and he wanted to eat it in peace without that pesky Nobara grabbing a share from his bento and Yuuji’s annoying babbles about horror movies with his best friend Junpei (the only one who was really bearable was Megumi, really)

“Sukuna-kun?” you called out, snapping him out of his small trance,  “Are you alright?”

He notices a glint of worry in your eyes, he had to admit since his transfer here last Monday, you were the least annoying teacher in the academy     the blue-haired professor in Japanese literature was absolute shit since he loved to tease him a lot and that bald-headed teacher in science who looked a lot like Mike Wazowski was an annoying twerp who loved dawdling in him and Yuuji’s business     and you were kind of good at your job. Not only did his idiot of a brother stop coming to him and their ojisan for help in math but he could actually do the worksheets right and get an actual decent grade at it.

“Yeah.” he roughly replies.

“That’s good.” You smiled, he watched as you bind their worksheets together and clip them in utmost delicacy, “You should head to the cafeteria now, I heard they’re serving milk bread today.”

Without saying anything more, you left the room, leaving him there in the silence.

Well, the Christmas tree idiot was right.

You kind of had a motherly aura on you and it didn’t even look forced.

No wonder, everyone in this room was whipped for you despite your subject being a pain in the ass.

“You look like an idiot.” You mumbled as you slapped Mahito’s hand away in annoyance, your workmate wiggling his eyebrows like the little shit he is.

You completely forgot you did have someone like Gojo Satoru in your life and it was one of your co-workers, Mahito, a Japanese literature teacher who was too nosy for his own good.

“You’ve got a ring on your ring finger and a mailman comes in and gives you an invite for Zen’in Toji’s fortieth birthday.” he whistles, “Even Jogo-sensei gossiped by the water cooler awhile ago, saying that you had eloped with the man. Not that I’m judging you or anything...”

You choke on your saliva, clearly thrown off by the backhanded comment. That darn bald-headed fool that looked like the green eyed monster from the DreamWorks cartoon, he sure needed to lay off the gossip and actually focus on his job as the head of the science department, “You’re not denying it.” Mahito stated, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, “Why aren’t you denying it?”

“I’m not dating Megumi-kun’s father.” You grumbled, finishing up your paperwork, “That man is off limits.”

“Right,” he drawls on sarcastically, “...because you have a strict rule against dating hot older men with money.”

“I also teach his kids and his cousin…” You deadpan.

“We don’t even have a rule against that.” He retorts, rolling his eyes, “If we did, Hanami-sensei would’ve been fired a long time ago.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re so secretive. If it isn’t Toji Zen’in, who’d ask you out?”

“Hey, I do have a man.” You huffed, “and he’s very kind and considerate...”

The image of the tall and lean man sleeping next to you slowly wormed its way back from your memory and you feel your cheeks start to flush. Good god, what were you? twelve? How embarrassing.

You needed to get that image off of your head, it wasn’t right.

It was all temporary, anyways and he doesn’t even see you in that sort of way-

“Yes, I’m Sukuna and Yuuji Itadori’s guardian…” a very familiar stoic voice could be heard from the nearby table, cutting your thoughts short. Wait, were you so head over heels for the man that you started imagining him here? Yuuji and Sukuna’s guardian? Wait a minute.

All color drained from your face as you snap your head behind you to find the same man you were imagining.

Oh no.

Oh no, indeed.

There stood Nanami Kento in all his glory;  crisp suit, stoic face, and eyes laced with mild worry.

“...L/N-sensei is Sukuna-kun’s adviser, by the way. It would be best to discuss this with them.” Akari somberly informed the man, turning to your direction. You don’t miss the shift of expressions when he sees you standing there.

Your mouth parts and you know you look like gawking fish trapped in a small aquarium.

“Akari-sensei’s looking at you with the new hot daddy.” Mahito mumbles next to you, eyeing him up and down, “Definitely wonder where all these old men come from these days.”

You were only half-listening to your co-worker because your head was all over the place, just what were the odds that he was the guardian of the new transferee’s? Just how awkward would everything be? Why did it even have to be at this school out of all places?

Never ending questions pop out of your head as you approached them, “Good afternoon, Nanami-san.” Your smile comes out very stiff and awkward while you hold your hand out for him to shake, clearly there was no memo on how you were suppose to act around your sort-of-fake-husband-whos-kids-you-actually-taught.

Nanami reverts back to his stoic expression as he clears his throat, “Yes, good afternoon to you too, L/N-sensei.” he greets, maintaining a straight-laced tone.

“Akari-sensei says that Sukuna has been quite...rude...in class…” you try to rack your brains up to describe his kid.

“Your son literally pointed out that the history lesson I was teaching was fake and that I should study again so he could get his tuition’s worth.” Akari looks clearly perplexed and ready to throttle the boy if it was legal. You had to admit, Sukuna went overboard with that insult.

You knew how passionate Nitta was about her job and what Sukuna just said to her was like a big ‘fuck you, you suck.’ to her.

“I’ll be sure to talk to him about this,” he sighs, bowing down, “I’d like to ask for forgiveness for that, the boy is a good and smart student-”

“Nanami-san, the school not only cares about grades but character as well.” Akari Nitta sighed, cutting him off, “I’ll let this slide once, if he does that again, it goes on the record.”

You internally bit your cheek, still trying to process everything that was going on.

“I understand. Thank you for that.”

“I’ll walk him out, sensei.” You immediately say soon after, wanting to have some alone time with him, “Let’s go, Nanami-san.”

You walk right next to him silently, some students peerlessly glancing at the tall blonde next to you but you were too immersed in thought to notice the stares, “Nanami-san?” you ask softly as soon as you reach the exit.

Nanami Kento looks at you, his eyes still laced with a bit of worry, “It’s okay.” you silently comforted him, “Just talk to him calmly.”

“That’s not the problem.” he sighed, “I just didn’t expect that the person I married would be the boy’s teacher.”

You sweat drop, “Aren’t you worried about talking to Sukuna? I mean, he literally just disrespected a teacher and you said that he and you weren’t in good-”

“It’s easier to talk to him about that rather than…” he paused, showing his ring, “this.”

You blinked.

Seemed like Nanami knew what to say about the little attitude problem his son had, “So you must be used to this?” you asked, “Him disrespecting the teacher?”

You notice the shift of expressions on his face, you had only known this man for a few days so far but he was starting to get easier to read. His eyes shed more emotion than his face, no wonder he likes wearing those funny sunglasses a lot.

“It’s something I’ve scolded him over a couple of times,” he gruffed, trying to dance around the subject, it seemed like he had such a soft spot to the point where he had a problem with disciplining them, “At times I believe it’s just because he’s way too smart for his age. The boy has read history books for fun when he was a kid and solved quadratic equations to prove that he’s better than me when he was ten.”

“It still doesn’t give him the free pass to say things like that to a teacher”

“I know,” he acknowledged, “I’ll be sure to give him a better scolding-”

“No, you see. This is why he thinks he can get away with it. He isn’t afraid of you. You’ll only probably tell him that you can’t do that.” you frown, crossing your arms, “You do know that not all sensei’s are as nice as Akari-sensei and he could get in trouble for that even more in the future, right?”

Silence lingered between you two for a moment and suddenly you realize that you must’ve said something way off the rails.

“I..” you turn red, embarrassed by the sudden outburst, “That was too much, wasn’t it?”

You look at him directly in the eye, the worry-filled ones are now replaced with a softer gaze. God, he really needed to stop looking at you like a kid. It would only make this set-up more awkward!

“No,” he mumbles, “It...It wasn't too much…”

“Oh.” you cleared your throat, flustered and looking away from his face, “Well, okay then goodbye then Nanami-sa-”

You needed to get out of this conversation quick.

“Kento.”

Your gaze snaps directly towards him, clearly taken aback by the correction.

“What?”

“We’re technically married now, right?” he softly corrected, “Call me Kento.”

“Oh,” You uttered again, this time softly. You looked down on your shoes, it seemed like the floor looked really interesting now, “Then bye-bye, Kento.”

“Bye Y/N.”

He leaves you standing there, cursing yourself because of your erratic heartbeat at the way he says your name in that voice. First name basis? okay, totally normal for sort-of lovers, right?

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[ve1vetyoongi]

Operation: Love Letters | 02

💌 CHAPTER INDEX 💌

♡ ⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader.

♡ ⇢ chapter word count: 7k

♡ ⇢ genre: mystery, college!au, romance, fluff, eventual smut.

♡ ⇢ warnings: none.

♡ ⇢ summary: When every student on campus is going crazy about a survey that claims to make true love bloom, your best friend manages to convince you to join in on the fun — except you’re disappointed to find out that your results just seem to be lost causes. That is until a love letter from a mysterious secret admirer turns up and you find yourself on a mission to find the person behind the pen — but you quickly realise it’s going to be a lot harder than you initially thought when you have 7 possible bachelors to investigate, right? Operation: Love Letters a-go!

♡ ⇢ schedule: updated every day at 5pm GMT in the run up to Valentine’s Day 2020!

"So what's the plan?" You ask Jimin, who has his leg propped up beside you on the barricade separating the bleachers from the campus football field. It's later that same evening and you're buzzing with adrenaline at the thought of the mission you're about to embark on in pursuit of your secret admirer — renowned football player and campus 'it' boy Jung Hoseok.

"Well," Jimin eases his leg down and drops into a deep stretch before his head pops back up over the barricade and he shakes his cheer pom poms with a grin. "As you know, tonight is the pep rally!"

Jimin points excitedly to the red and white cheer uniform he dons with PARK written on the back. He's been a part of the cheer squad since high school, and although his preppy school spirit usually wears thin, you are silently glad that posing as his supportive best friend offers you the perfect excuse to bump into your potential footballer bachelor.

"Don't tell me you've dragged me all the way here just to watch you and the cheer team perform?" You groan, flopping back into your seat unamused and wrinkling your nose at the small stadium you find yourself reluctantly sat in. The rally doesn’t start for 45 minutes but the air is already alive with a buzz of excitement, the scent of hot dogs and burgers floating from nearby carts that are stuffed with students brandishing red foam fingers and mascot hats and and a sickening amount of school spirit that makes your eyes roll.

Jimin shoots you a stern look as he rubs a crick out of his neck "What? Not even an ounce of support for your best friend?" It's his turn to roll his eyes now, but he brushes your betrayal off quickly, far too excited by the mission at hand. "No, I dragged you here because of course Hoseok is gonna come tonight! He's team captain after all."

As if on cue, a busted up truck squeals into the lot, and from your seat in the bleachers you have the perfect view as the door swings open and a hoard of football players come tumbling out, laughing and hooting like they drank one too many redbull's on the way here.The rally crowd parts like the red sea, allowing the team to run out onto the pitch in a playful brawl.

The last guy to swing himself out of the back of the truck is taller and lankier than the rest, yet somehow broad beneath his college varsity jacket that unlike his teammates simple red and white ensembles is made from black studded leather with a red 28 emblazoned in the back. You notice the beginnings of black inkings that curve up his arms where they poke out from the bottom of his sleeve, winding all the way up to where they end at the base of his neck.

His wavy auburn hair parts perfectly down the middle, barely ruffled by the early spring breeze, and you know instantly when his face lights up into a swoon worthy smirk that this is the guy you're looking for.

This is Jung Hoseok. The bad boy football player that every girl on campus has a crush on and every guy secretly wishes they could be. And, allegedly, your very own secret admirer

.He joins his teammates who welcome him with thumps on the back, but not before he cups his forehead and squints up towards the bleachers as if he's looking for someone. His eyes pause when they get to you, a smile appearing on his face as he offers a small wave in your direction before he's being dragged away by a hoard of cheerleaders and you're left with your heart thumping in your chest like a drum.

"That's the guy who sent me the love letter?" You gawk, pulling Jimin up to talk a short distance away from the prying eyes of the rest of the cheer squad.

"Did you see that?" Jimin grips your arm excitedly. "He totally just tried to flirt with you! It has to be him."

"So?” You say skeptically. "This whole thing seems too good to be true."

"So all we have to do is get you two alone and bad-a bing bad-a boom! You've got yourself a valentine!"

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "How do you suppose I get him alone when he's gonna be surrounded by the football team all night?

Jimin plants his hands on his hips with a smug smile and leans on the barricade to rest his chin in his palms innocently. "I might just have the perfect way."

A nervous sigh leaves your chest, voice heightening in pitch. "Jimin? What did you do?"

He throws his hands up in defence. "What makes you think I did something bad? I just did whatever I had to so you can get your man." He throws an arm around your shoulders, like he's doing you a favour, and points out at the pitch where the football team are jumping around playfully. "Think about it. What you need is some one on one time with Hoseok, so you can ask him about the letter without seeming suspicious right? And who else has a better disguise than this guy?” With a shit eating grin, he holds up the head of your school's mascot, a permanently giddy lion with matted golden fur. You go to protest but Jimin throws a matching fursuit towards your open mouthed expression before you can.

"Tell me you didn't!" You groan.

"Oh. But I did." Jimin snorts, but before you can grab him by the collar and flick him in the forehead he's already starting to jog across the pitch as a whistle sounds behind him and the rest of the cheer team beckon for him to join them. "Better hurry up and get changed, tiger!"

You scuff your shoes in the dirt, unimpressed. "It's a goddamn lion." Is grumbled under your breath as you head towards the locker rooms to change into the abomination you cradle in your arms.

In the name of Operation Love letters, you tell yourself. In the name of Operation Love Letters.

“This Jung Hoseok dude better be worth it.” You mumble to yourself as you run a lap around the field for the nth time, clutching your side. “Goddamn, I’m out of shape.”

It’s a few hours later, and your patience is running thin. You’ve been dancing around the pitch all night like a maniac in your stupid mascot suit, desperately trying to get Hoseok’s attention, but so far failing. Every time you try to approach him, you get dragged away by a hoard of cheerleaders who are determined to do the school pride cheer again, and the one time you got as close as a few inches away from him, you were hit in the face by a flying football, left to writhe in the mud while Hoseok got swallowed by the football team again much to your dismay.

Finally, you admit defeat. Your toes hurt, you’re out of breath and this goddamn mascot head smells like feet. All you want to do is splash some cold water on your face and forget this night ever happened.

Before you can think better of it, you’re ducking behind a nearby car out of view from the rumbling crowd, sidling around the back of the building with your back pressed to the wall. You feel around for the bathroom door, squinting desperately...except you can’t see a single thing through the tiny eye holes of this stupid lion mask. 

“Dang it!” This night is really against you huh? You are gonna kill Park Jimin for this!

Grumbling under your breath, your hand finally closes around a metal handle, and you push open the door with your back, wrestling with the mask sat heavy on your shoulders, and before you know it, you’re tripping over your own feet and falling head first into the arms of a stranger.

A pair of helpful hands wrangle away the mask, your hair falling free around your shoulders, and you can’t help but gasp when you look up and find yourself staring into a pair of concerned eyes you’ve been searching for all night. “Shoot I’m sorry.. wait, Hoseok?”

Yup. It’s definitely him. The leather jacket and the lip ring confirm it. He pulls you to your feet gently, letting go when he’s sure you’ve found your balance.

"Y/N, right?" Hoseok is eye level with you now, a smile tugging at his lips as he brushes the dirt from the mascot head and hands it to you with one of his signature smiles and you find yourself unable to look away.

"Uh, yeah..." You say, sliding the head beneath your elbow with a small nod in thanks. "That's me."

"Jung Hoseok." He stretches out a hand for you to shake and his palm is warm when it squeezes your own tightly. Hoseok tilts his head to the side, tongue between his teeth playfully, and you can't help but notice how much prettier he is up close. "Although it seems like you already know that."

A flush burns in your cheeks and you have to avert your gaze, the teasing glint in his eyes as he runs a hand through his perfectly gelled hair far too intimidating to face head on. "Uh..."

"What are you doing back here, anyway?" Hoseok continues to prod with arms crossed across his chest. "Not following me, are you? I haven’t seen you around here before."

Damn it. He's on to you already?

"No!" You squeak, defensive, but when you see the subtle turn up of Hoseok's lips and you realise he's joking you let your shoulders relax and join in with his laughter sheepishly as you grapple for an excuse that isn't I think you wrote me a love letter and I'm here to grill you until you admit it.

"Okay, maybe I was." You admit finally. "I just...wanted to get out of this stupid costume and then I saw you coming back here and I guess I got curious."

Whoops. Was that too direct?

Hoseok's eyes light up in understanding and you let out the breath you were holding when you decide you've safely got him off your trail. At least for now, anyway.

"I think the costume looks cute." He smiles, and your cheeks heat up as he holds open the door for you to slip out into the cool night, his black boots scuffing across the parking lot while you scurry after him in tow. "Why were you curious? You looking to get...lucky?"

Eyes widening, you rush forward to stop him in his tracks. “N-no! It’s not like that--”

A velvety chuckle leaves his lips. “Not that kind of lucky. I mean, literal luck.” He slings his hands into the pocket of his leather jacket. “You see, everyone always asks about the secret behind my winning streak, and truth is, I have a sort of...pre-game ritual.”

You nod. Hoseok is known around campus for never losing a football game as long as he’s on the team. You bite your lip, hand curling around the love letter in your pocket that burns against your thigh. "I guess you could say that I need some luck."

Hoseok smirks. "Well who would I be to deny you when I have all the luck you need right here." He pats his pocket knowingly, and a nasty thought suddenly strikes you. 

"It's not drugs is it?" You grimace.

Hoseok comes to a sudden stop beside a scuffed up truck that’s parked in the furthermost space in the lot and you almost walk right into him.

"Judging a book by its cover, don't you think?" He chuckles with a velvet tone when he gestures to his bad boy appearance, and you instantly feel bad for assuming. "Nope. Try again. Look around and you'll find it."

You can't help but feel like you're missing something as even when you spin around and glance over the whole lot you can't see a single thing out of the ordinary that might serve as a good luck charm to the smug jock before you.

You blink at him, confused. "Well...what is it?"

"You really want to know?" He braces an elbow on the side of his truck, hand shooting out to twirl a piece of your hair around his finger.

Nervous butterflies erupt in your tummy and the alarm in your mind says abort! but your feet stay planted in your spot anyway. "I guess.”

"Can you keep a secret?" He blinks, tone suddenly deep and ever serious, pinky finger held out for you to take in yours.

You don't know what possesses you to do it, to give this near stranger your word — is it the burning desire to find out the author of your love letter or Hoseok's charmingly sweet dimples? You can't tell — but you wrap your finger round his and seal the promise with a press of your thumb. "S-sure."

His hand slides into his pocket and, to your surprise, his palm opens to reveal a set of car keys. With a grin Hoseok swings himself into the bed of his truck, landing on his feet and turning back to reach out a hand so he can pull you in after him.

"Then you'd better come on up!"

With a deep breath you take his hand and let him pull you into the truck. The floor is littered with soft throw cushions and you land with a plush thump. Hoseok must notice the way you rub your arms over the stupid lion costume you still don because his head disappears into the back seat of his truck before he emerges with two cosy blankets.

"Take one of these. It can get cold this time of year, huh?"

"Thanks." You stammer, and just as he bends down to wrap the fabric around your shoulders, the sleeve of his jacket slips back to reveal the beginnings of the delicate inked artwork that litters his skin.

"Cool tattoo's." You breathe, eyes zoning in on the smallest expanse of black ink that sits at the base of his wrist. II.X.MMXX. A date, perhaps?

"Oh this?" He notices you staring and runs a thumb over the spot fondly, like the small addition to his sleeve has more meaning than some of the bigger pieces. He shakes his head. "It's nothing."

"What does it mean?" You prod eagerly, and he laughs at your curiosity.

"It's the date we won nationals. The whole team got the same one." He grins at you now, leaning on his elbow against the back of the truck so that he's close enough to make you shiver. "Speaking of winning, I saw you in the bleachers tonight. Didn't think you were the football type."

"Yeah, guess I wanted to try something new..." You chuckle nervously, internally cringing at the awkwardness in your voice, but Hoseok just raises an amused eyebrow. "Never too late to start a new hobby right?"

"Well if you ever wanted someone to coach you..." Hoseok leans in a little closer, his breath ghosting across your cheek, and you feel your legs go weak when he just pulls back with a coy smile. "You know where I am."

"O-oh okay." You breathe, face flushing a deep shade of red when you realise how easily he managed to charm you. Damn you Jung Hoseok and your deep, brown eyes...snap out of it, Y/N! You’re here for a reason!

"So you wanna know my lucky secret, huh?"

Yeah. The secret admirer kind of secret.

Hoseok scoots over so he's laying on his back with his palms behind his head in a makeshift pillow, before he turns to you with a grin. "Look up."

You gasp when you follow his instructions and lay eyes on an opening in the trees surrounding the lot, a view of the clear starry night sky and the perfect curve of a half moon visible through the branches dancing lazily in the night time breeze ruffling your hair. Out here in the back of Hoseok’s truck, the roar from the pep rally is barely audible, and it's like you're alone with the stars, not a single cloud in sight, and you're almost speechless at the breathtaking sight that was above you all along — you just failed to notice it.

Hoseok didn't, though. He fiddles with the stretcher in his ear, like he's nervously eager to gauge your reaction. "Cool huh?"

"Woah." You manage to gasp, eyes never leaving the blanket of navy blue night above you as you lay down beside him with your head propped on a pillow in wonder. "This is where you disappear to before games?"

Hoseok folds his hands across his stomach, letting out a deep, relaxed sigh. "Yeah. I like it here, alone in the peace and quiet. Its kinda my place. To think you know? Calm my nerves before the game."

"Why don't you tell people about this? It's so beautiful."

"Because that would kinda kill the mysterious thing I have going on don't you think?" He rolls into his elbow to throw you a wink "And besides, I've never brought anyone back here before. At least...until now."

You push him playfully. "So I'm the first to know the secret behind Jung Hoseok's lucky pre-game ritual huh?"

"Well it's more of an excuse to get out of the shitty pep rally than a ritual really, but I guess you are. I can't play a single game without, y'know..."

You shake your head. "What?"

Hoseok lifts his eyes, pointing towards a flash of silver light that darts across the sky so fast you almost miss it. "Without making a wish."

Instinctively you close your eyes, hands clasped together as you clear your mind of any thoughts apart from the single wish that weighs on your heart. Please show me the identity of my secret admirer.

"Did you make one?" Hoseok's voice jolts you back to reality, and he's smirking at you now.

You scramble into a sitting position, cheeks hot like he could somehow read your mind and chuckle at your silly schoolgirl wish. "Did you?"

"Yeah. But it won't come true if I tell you." Hoseok places a hand on your cheek and your stomach does a somersault. Dang, I should wish on stars more often if they work this quickly. "But I have a feeling it might just come true if I..."

He leans in towards you, and your eyes flutter shut instinctively as your purse your lips and then —

"JUNG HOSEOK! GET YOUR ASS BACK ON THE PITCH AND STAT, DUDE."

You jump apart like you touched a live wire, and Hoseok flashes you a sympathetic look as he throws off his blanket and begins to hop out of the truck.

"Dang it, I think the guys are looking for me. We'd better get back out there." He chuckles.

He can't leave yet! Not before you've asked him about the letter!

"Wait! Can I ask you something first—"

"Hold up." Hoseok bends to his knees when he sees something fluttering in the wind, caught beneath the wheel of his truck. "Did you drop something?"

"Oh no..." Panic courses through your veins when you slide a hand into your pocket, and your worst fear is confirmed: the love letter is not where you left it.

But it's too late, and before you can stop him Hoseok is already stamping on the piece of paper and dropping to his knees to scoop up it up with a gracious smile; but it falters at the edges when he scans the messy scrawl littering the crumpled letter with wide eyes, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he gets to the end.

"Is this..."

"A love letter?" You butt in, wringing your hands anxiously. "Yeah. I received it yesterday."

Hoseok looks between you and the letter curiously, almost panicked. "Do you know who sent it to you?"

You shake your head. "Uh, that's actually why I came here. To ask you."

There's a brief pause and Hoseok swallows hard before he points at the scribbled note between his fingertips. His voice sounds strained, and he seems almost pained when he shakes his head in confusion. "You think I sent this to you?"

"I...I guess so?" Embarrassment blooms in your cheeks when you hear the lack of amusement in Hoseok's voice, how his signature charming smile has disappeared from his face only to be replaced with a tight frown. Was the idea of him having a crush on you so unthinkable he was actually mad at your assumption? "Would that be so bad?"

"Well you have the wrong guy." Hoseok folds up the note, something close to annoyance crossing his features as he presses the paper into your chest with a shrug of his shoulders. You stagger back open mouthed as he swings his gym bag over his shoulder and barges past you in the direction of the pep rally. "I have to go."

"Hey, wait!" Hoseok's stride falters and he turns to look at you one last time. "You really don't know anything about it? Like who could have sent it or something?"

He pulls his lip between his teeth, as if he's thinking. There's a brief moment where you think he's going to spill something, but then Hoseok trains his eyes to the ground and pushes forward with a sigh. "Nope. Nothing. See you around, I guess."

And with that, you watch, clutching the love letter, as Hoseok disappears into the dark parking lot, no closer to finding out who your admirer is than when you started.

"And then he just stormed out!" You exclaim, crossing your arms over your chest with a renewed frustration after recounting your encounter with Hoseok to Yoongi, who listens diligently with a gaping mouth from where he is snuggled under the blanket you share at the opposite side of the couch.  He found you moping about once he got back from class, and he wouldn't let it go until you finally fessed up about Hoseok's blatant rejection.

"That asshole." Yoongi's fists clench, jaw tightening when he notices how you use the hem of the blanket to rub away any remaining evidence of the mascara tracks on your cheeks. "I should go give him a piece of my mind—"

"Don't bother," You sigh, picking at a loose thread on the throw cushion you cradle in your lap with a pout. "He'd probably just think I'm even more of an idiot."

You both jump when a tinny voice rings out through the apartment from your phone speaker. "But that doesn't explain why his cologne was on the love letter. Or why he got so weird when you brought it up."

"Dude, have you been here this whole time?" Yoongi exclaims, shooting you a look when he picks up your phone from the back of the couch and see's Jimin's face staring back at him through a video call, hair messy from his mid-afternoon nap.

"Duh." Comes Jimin's high pitched response. "How could I miss this juicy development in the mystery?"

With a roll of your eyes you snatch back your phone and flick Yoongi in the forehead, ignoring his ow! of protest by addressing Jimin instead.

"You're right. He's hiding something, I'm sure of it."

Jimin purses his lips thoughtfully. "Totally. So we only have one option left. If he won't talk then we have to make him."

Yoongi crosses his arms with a snort, flopping back against the couch. "How? He's literally twice your size, man."

Jimin just rolls his eyes. "Every football player has a weakness. And there's one place they think nobody will ever find it."

You cock your head. "Where?"

"The locker rooms."

You throw the blanket off your lap much to Yoongi's disgruntled surprise and jump to your feet.

"Where are you going? Is this another one of your Operation bag-a-boyfriend things?" He groans.

"Operation Love Letters," You correct with a click of your tongue as you head towards the door. "You're a genius, Park Jimin! Meet you outside my place in ten?"

"Already one step ahead of you." Jimin confirms, jangling his car keys in front of the camera before he ends the call with a monotone beep.

You're half way to the door when a dark thought strikes you, and you turn, biting your lip. "Hey Yoongi, can I ask you something?"

He lets out a groan but motions for you to talk when he sees how you wring your hands nervously. "What now?"

"Am I really that gross that someone like Hoseok wouldn't want to date me?" Your voice sounds smaller than you intend for it to and you're instantly ashamed as soon as the words leave your lips, especially when Yoongi's eyes widen to the size of saucers in disbelief.

"Why are you asking me this?" He asks with genuine confusion.

"I don't know, 'cause you're a guy?"

He lets out a sigh, before his voice softens and he looks at you directly with a shrug of his shoulders. "Then no. Any guy would be lucky to date you, Y/N." He furrows his eyebrows, clicking his tongue when he sees a grateful smile tug at your lips. "But you should work on being less annoying because your moping is starting to piss me off."

"I can't tell if that was a compliment or not but it made me feel better, so thank you."

"Don't think this means I've gone soft on you." He calls as you slip on your shoes and head out of the front door.

"Would never dream of it, Min Yoongi!"

"3...2...1...hold your nose!" Jimin mumbles from beneath the collar of the shirt he holds over the lower half of his face as he pushes into the men's locker room.

"Holy moly!" You stagger as you cross the threshold, fingers splayed across your eyes to preserve your innocence from any stray dangly parts that might be on display, the putrid smell of sweat and wet boy violating your nose. "What is that?"

"Sports." Jimin gags at the word that tastes sour on his tongue, eyes distant and glassy as he hops over a pile of musty football gear. "This is why I'm an exercise atheist."

You reluctantly remove your hands and glance around. The room is empty apart from the standard wooden locker room benches, a couple half emptied gym bags and a wall comprised of red lockers, each bolted with shiny silver padlocks.

"Where is everyone?" You ask, kicking a stray sock out of your path with a grimace. You had been expecting a commotion when you entered, screams along the lines of "there's a girl!" or "get her out!" but to your relief you're met with only the sound of pipes creaking and showers running nearby.

"If my calculations are correct, the team are cleaning up after practice so if we start looking now we should have exactly..." Jimin glances at his watch with a satisfied grin. "Five minutes to find some dirt on Hoseok."

"God I've never been so glad to have a stalker for a best friend before. Right. Where do we look first?"

"You hit the lockers and I'll start with these..." Jimin wrinkles his nose as he nods towards the gym bags lined up against the wall. He unzips his backpack and retrieves a pair of sunshine yellow rubber gloves and rolls up the sleeves of his expensive cashmere sweater before plunging his hands into the closest one with his eyes wrinkled shut in disgust. “Remember. We’re looking for his cologne or any other clues that he’s the one!”

You approach the lockers and find yourself momentarily stumped. Each one looks exactly the same, the only difference that they are labelled with an individual number in black paint. How on earth are you supposed to know which one belongs to Hoseok?

You squint at the wall of lockers carefully, rubbing your temples and willing a clue to reveal itself before your eyes flit across the locker labelled with a 28. Where have you seen that number before?

Wait...bingo! 28 is the number that Hoseok was wearing on the back of his jacket the other night, right? This has to be the one!

"Well that was easy." You call, a triumphant smile plastered to your face as you tug on the handle, only to be met with the tinny jingle jangle sound from the shiny silver padlock fastened to it. The colour drains from your face. Darn it! Of course he remembered to lock it today of all days.But why? Could that mean be really is hiding something?

"Uh, Jimin..." You call over your shoulder. "You got any idea what his combination might be?"

"Try his birthday!" Jimin's head pokes up from behind a rack of footballs. "One-eight-zero-two."

"Not gonna ask how you know that..." You murmur as you fiddle with the padlock, biting your lip when you punch in the numbers to no avail, the lock remaining firmly closed no matter how hard you tug on it. "Nope! Not budging."

"Are you sure you're doing it right?" Jimin emerges behind you, tongue between his teeth as he fiddles with the combination himself, only to be met with disappointment. "Huh."

You squeeze your eyes shut and wrack your brain for any clues you might have picked up from your brief talk with Hoseok. Nothing...nothing...wait!

Your thoughts flit back to the tattoo on Hoseok's wrist. IX.XI.MMXIX. "It's the date we won the football championships."

"Scoot, lemme try something." You brush Jimin out of the way and manhandle the lock, typing in the Roman numerals inked on Hoseok's arm from memory into a internet search and thumbing in the digits that pop up on screen carefully.

To your unabashed delight the padlock clicks open and you're able to wrangle it out of the locker, letting it drop to the tile in a crunch of metal. "No freaking way! I'm in!"

"Holy shit. Way to go, Nancy Drew!" Jimin rips off one of his gloves to smack you on the back triumphantly, but the smile fades from his face when he sees how you practically vibrate with nerves. Is it because you're about to break every rule in the college handbook or because you're about to find out whether goddamn Jung Hoseok has an all consuming crush on your boring ass? Even you can't quite tell.

Jimin's hand closes over yours, squeezing your fingers tightly around the locker handle. "Together, okay?"

You nod. It's now or never. The answer to who sent you the love letter could be right behind this locker door. All you have to do is open it to find out. "On the count of three?"

Jimin sucks in a breath of preparation. "One..."

"Two..."

"Three!"

The red metal door creaks as it swings open, and you suck in a shaky breath, eyes squeezed shut as you prepare yourself for what you might find inside — more love notes? god forbid a shrine in your honour — when you finally open them, only for the big reveal to be...absolutely nothing.

"Oh."

Just an empty protein shake, a pair of dirty sneakers and a borrowed calculus book are shoved into the bottom shelf of the otherwise empty locker. Huh.

"Maybe this isn't his locker after all..." Jimin starts, before he is interrupted by a throaty cough. He practically jumps into the air, gripping your arm as you freeze and both turn in dreaded unison to face it's owner.

"That's my locker you're snooping through. Care to explain?"

"Oh my god."

Your jaw practically drops to the tile. Stood before you is none other than Hoseok himself, wet and glistening in all his bare-chested-fresh-from-the-shower glory, wearing nothing but a white gym towel slung low round his hips. He has his inked arms crossed over his chest, biceps defined as he taps his foot impatiently and flicks the strands of effortlessly messy damp hair out of his eyes, sending droplets of water drizzling down his sharp jawline, past his impossibly hard abs and all the way to the mouth watering V poking out from beneath his towel...

Oh shit. Were you staring? You totally were! Damn it, you are starting to see why everyone on campus has a crush on this guy...

"U-um..." You stutter. "I..we can explain!"

"So, explain? I'm waiting. Why in the hell are you going through my locker. And what are you even doing in the guy's locker room, Y/N?"

You glance at Jimin for moral support, but judging by the dazed look on his face you figure he's too busy lusting over Hoseok's god-like body to provide any adequate back up, so you suck in a deep breath, fiddle in your pocket for the crumpled note and decide to confront him head on.

"We're here because we know you wrote this letter." You let out in one breath, stumbling over your words as you thrust it towards Hoseok's confused face. "We know you wrote it. It has your cologne on it! So we came to..."

"Prove it?" Hoseok's finishes as he carefully takes the note, wet hands dampening the edges of the paper as his eyes scan the handwritten scrawl with quick, unblinking eyes. "I already told you. It's not mine."

All you can do is stand there uncomfortably while he brushes past you to his locker where he rummages around for a deodorant stick, suddenly aware of how naked he is just a couple inches away from you, Jimin still gripping your elbow with a dreamy open mouthed expression.

"So you're really not even going to say anything?" You ask, stunned as Hoseok just rolls his eyes when he turns and finds you still standing there.

"Nope. But happy secret admirer hunting, or whatever."

Your fist shakes as it tightens around the note, a sudden confidence gripping you despite the hot flush of embarrassment caressing your cheeks.

"Hey! Do you always have to be such an ass?" You spit. Hoseok stiffens with his deodorant stick pressed to his underarm. "You know what? Forget it. This is all the proof I need that you aren't the guy who wrote this letter after all."

"Don't you have anything better to do than look for the guy who sent you that stupid letter?" Hoseok suddenly exclaims. "You could have anyone and you choose the idiot who can't even confess to your face?"

You stand there, unblinking and surprised, as Hoseok breathes heavily and slams his locker shut. The person who wrote the letter sounds tender, gentle. Everything that Hoseok evidently is not. Forget finding clues. It's obvious now that you had been following a dead trail the whole time coming here.

"I'm glad you aren't my admirer." You spit. "Thanks for nothing, Jung Hoseok."

Hoseok freezes, falling silent, like any harsh words on his tongue dissipated to nothingness. His expression cracks, and you furrow your brow. Is he...hurt?

"Come on." Jimin hisses in your ear, bringing you back down from your outburst. The rest of the football team has started to filter in now, awkwardly edging around you and Hoseok who are still locked in a stare down. You feel Jimin tugging on your arm, pulling you towards the exit. "We got what we came for. Let's just go—"

"Wait!" Hoseok suddenly exclaims, lurching forward to grab your wrist and pin you in place. His bare skin feels, droplets of water from his wet torso splashing onto your sweater. "Just wait a second. Can we talk?"

"What is your problem, dude?" You hiss, ripping your arm from his grip once he manages to tug you, with Jimin faithfully in tow, behind a shower stall where you can find some privacy.

"I just...look I'm sorry okay. I didn't want to be an ass it's just..." He looks at you straight on as he produces a crumpled piece of paper, a feeble smile finding his lips as he hands it to you with a shrug, words spilling out in one breath. "I got your name in the Love Calculator."

You choke when, sure enough, you rip the page from his grasp and read your own name right at the top of the page. "W-what?"

"But I'm not the guy who wrote the letter!" He adds quickly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I was too late. He already wrote to you before I could..."

"Before you could send me a love letter?"

“I’m sorry for taking it out on you.” Hoseok smiles feebly. "I guess I'm just not used to losing, huh?"

Oh.

You bite your lip, cheeks suddenly hot under his gaze, Hoseok wringing his hands like he's waiting for you to say something. This would be a lot less awkward if he wasn't half naked and you weren't eye level with his freaking nipples right now.

"Why didn't you just tell me in the first place?"

"Because my pride was hurt and I could tell you already have your heart set on the person who wrote you this letter, but I thought that if I deterred you, you'd forget about him." He shrugs his shoulders. "Flawed logic I know."

A smile grows on your face. So Hoseok didn’t hate you after all. He just didn’t know how to express his emotions.

You punch his shoulder playfully, and he seems relieved that you aren't mad anymore, even pretending to rub the spot like it hurt. "Dude, you made me come into the guy's locker room to tell me this?"

"Hey, I said I'm sorry!" Hoseok chuckles. "But I have a way I could make it up to you."

"How?"

"I guess...I guess I lied when I said I didn't know who could have written the letter." Hoseok scratches the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. He takes the note from your grip and points to the red and blue emblem printed in the corner of the paper. "This. It's the Kappa Tau logo. You know, the college fraternity?"

You nod eagerly. "So? What does that mean?"

"Whoever wrote this letter is clearly a member, right? So you should talk to the president, Kim Seokjin. He might be able to tell you who wrote it."

Eyes widening, you snap your fingers when the next puzzle piece falls into place. Kim Seokjin! He matched with you in the Love Calculator survey, right? This has to be a lead!

Jimin seems to be thinking the same thing. He grabs you by the elbow, dragging you across the locker room excitedly. "We need to come up with a new plan and stat."

You nod, but not before you catch how Hoseok's shoulder's slump forward as he runs a sorrowful hand through his damp hair. Jimin notices too, nodding as he takes the hint and goes to wait for you in the car while you finish up things here.

"Hey, thanks a lot, Hoseok." You say softly as you grip his forearm and he looks up at you in surprise. "You really helped a ton."

He puffs out his chest with a shrug, flexing his tattooed arms. "It's the least I could do." His voice turns soft though when he looks at you with a small smile, holding a hand out for you to shake. "Friends?"

You slide your palm into his with a nod. "Friends."

"Good luck admirer hunting, forreal this time!" He calls as you cross the locker room, and you flash him a grateful smile, but not before the door is flying open and you're walking straight into a damp bare chest.

"Hey Hoseok, thanks for letting me borrow your— Y/N?" A familiar voice grumbles, and when you look up to scold the person who just carelessly gave you a concussion with their pecks, you're met with none other than the confused face of your roommate looking down at you. "What are you doing in here?" Yoongi deadpans. "Let me guess. It's for Operation eros epistle?"

"I'm just leaving," You say with an eye roll as he sprays a fragrance on his neck and wrists with an innocent expression. "And it's Operation Love Letters, dude. How many times?"

Hoseok chuckles from across the room, taking the bottle from Yoongi and spraying some for himself. "I've been looking for this cologne everywhere, thanks man!"

"You're welcome." Yoongi says, but his eyes are still on you as he watches you head out into the parking lot and hop into Jimin's purring car.

[fencesandfrogs]

cloudtail’s daughter: jayfeather

alright, strap in, it's time for jayfeather. i've been holding it in on him for what feels like forever now; he's ya boy's favorite character

also, aside from dove and ivy, he's the character with the highest volume of changes to canon. even above cloudtail and brightheart, because they continue their lives, it's not a big deal. and lion and cinder go to the tribe, but like, that's it. (i'm figuring out if jay goes with them over the course of this essay. i think i said he did in holly? but he literally hasn't been mentioned once in that arc because there's a lot going on.) anyway lion and cinder don't get up to anything. but jay's priorities shift and we see that in his books. i'm really excited to write him but i need to finish arc 1 lmao.

but first, same deal as always. this is part of my cloudtail's daughter au, where dovekit and ivykit are born to cloudtail and brightheart. i don't know how well this will read preemptively, but i suspect it will be rather dependent on the others. cloudtail's daughter: dovewing and/or the long post that explains it are both good places to start, see the cloudtail's daughter tag on my blog.

[2.5k words, 14 minute read, one of the last warriors essays on this blog. i'm going to finish out with my character essays and then everything will be on new sideblog. so check out @mallowstep for more.]

section one: the leafpool business

at the beginning of this series, leafpool and jayfeather are on bad terms. they will stay on bad terms for basically the entirity of the book series. while one of my main complaints with po3/oots is the lack of acknowledgement of adoption, jayfeather has been lied to by his mother and his mentor, something neither hollyleaf or lionblaze have to contend with, and then his sister kills herself over it. obviously she doesn't, but from his perspective. so he blames leafpool because he was really close to hollyleaf and now she's gone, and it's his first real loss, and there's so much going on.

and so he's a grouch and he's unhappy and he's just trying to function when his whole support system has been dismantled over the course of what, like, a quarter moon? yeah so dovekit and ivykit are like "wow what a grouch he sucks" the same way they don't realize prey is dying of thirst & etc.

for the most part he's j chilling and then hollyleaf comes back and man is it some family drama. unfortunately it's postponed til book 4 because hollyleaf and jayfeather have journeys but anyway i'm getting ahead of myself, because this section should end and unlike the hollyleaf essay i want to actually have decent organization.

section two: hollyleaf is away (but jayfeather doesn't get to play)

holly, cinder, and dove go to deal with beavers. we only get jayfeather through lionblaze in the books, but jayfeather is...conflicted. he got his sister back and lost her again and oh i should say. i think jayfeather and hollyleaf are the closer pair of the siblings. not that they don't love lionblaze the same, but you know how cats pair bond? like, it's usually a trauma thing, but even in feral cats, you see very close friendships. anyway yeah so for other au's i've been sorting siblings n denmates into pairs for this purpose (mostly jaywing au because there's a lot re. dovepaw and jaypaw and remember they are reincarnated siblings they've got a close bond going.) and it's kind of...i don't know my point is jayfeather misses his sister because she's like, his best friend too. or she was. and then she died and now she's back and she left again, and lionblaze is more concerned about cinderheart, so jayfeather just comes off as grouchy all the time. but really he's lonely and sad.

so yeah, jayfeather is kind of moping around camp and then the tree falls and whoops now briarpaw/light is parapalegic.

and uhh this goes more or less as in canon but we don't get pov which is fine bc u can sub in canon. but jayfeather? he's still a sad boy but now he's a sad boy with purpose and that makes all the difference

yeah he's close with her. they're sweet. it's sweet. he's pressured by brambleclaw to take an apprentice. he's bristly and angry and "you're not my real father" you know?

beaver crew gets back. jayfeather, who had missed holly, is back to being angry for...angst and plot purpose, really.

but you know, when you love & miss someone and they leave and they come back and somehow that's worse because now they can leave you again? and you can't tell them you want them to stay because you're angry and hurt but you want them to stay? god i'm excited to write these chapters i love emotional turmoil.

he's protective of briarlight, he's trying to keep dovepaw from being a medicine cat, hollyleaf is apologizing but he's not ready to hear it and lionblaze and hollyleaf are beginning to reconnect and it feels like betrayal. so when cinderheart and lionblaze go to the tribe, he tags along. everyone, uh, strongly encourages he go. he is the big grouch.

section three: time travelling times

okay so the timeline for these books is...messy. if you track the chronology of my writing, it's messy. which is to say, i was thinking i could put forgotten warrior and distant whispers over the same time span, but that actually doesn't work, as i review my notes for FW because a big part of it is ivy and holly's relationship. so. fake news. whoops. that sucks.

or maybe it doesn't? idk i don't usually tell linear stories. i like messing with emotional impact of events. so writing 600k of very linear story telling is very not easy for me. but i'm trying.

right so basically the official order of events until i change my mind again is as follows (names abbreviated as DIHLJC because they're all unique): DCH returns from beavers, DILCJ go to tribe with some other random warrior undecided, J + rando return, JH start awkwardness (beginning of TFW, middle of DW), DILC return (end of DW), time travel stuff (middle to end of TFW). hopefully that was intelligble, but it is admittedly 85% for my own benefit.

alright so we've covered during beavers, now jayfeather and hmmmm let's say, uhhhh, let's say they go with, literally any interesting background character, uh, bumblestripe! he doesn't do anything in this au bumblestripe goes with them. also since his name starts w b i can still write DIHLJCB and have things be unambigious. and it means there are fewer bs in thunderclan and trust me you don't know how frustrating the existence of like 6 b characters is.

alright so we really have 3 sets of two pairs of cats here. maybe i won't go w bumblestripe, bc he doesn't have an existing relationship w jayfeather. i dunno. i'm a big fan of jay & briar, whether as a ship or just besties, but that's just out, and hollyleaf can't come a) because i said so and b) honestly maybe she can? actually wait hold on that solves my problems. hot damn so 6/6 of the pov cats go to the tribe and this will be one of the only times all six characters are plot relevant at the same time. but i'm going george r r martin on it and seperating the books not by time but into DICL + JH because they're two completely separate character arcs that happen to take place at the same time. (don't worry i'm going to resolve the fallen leaves thing. in this essay ig bc i've already covered hollyleaf.)

okay so yeah hollyleaf is sent bc jayfeather isn't planning on staying w tribe for long time. just short time. and he's all "firestar why"

"well jayfeather," firestar says, "you don't talk to your family."

"i talk to dovewing," jayfeather says

"you're not related to her," firestar says

"there's a whole prophecy about how i'm related to her," jayfeather says

"you know about that?" firestar says

and that's how the cat gets out of the bag.

so anyway. jayfeather and hollyleaf are sent because...hold on, spinning the wheel of reasons for a character to go on a field trip...because...because...because...because...jayfeather had one of those dreams. i don't know. rock or something. now he's going.

they get there, and this is where the books get a lil time wonky, bc jayfeather and hollyleaf stay for like a moon, during which jayfeather goes back in time. i think.

i haven't worked out the details and probably won't until i do an updated au synopsis because it's hard to keep track and i'm more concerned about character through lines. like, jayfeather does this and he feels sad, and hollyleaf is sad about her ghost boyfriend, and they're travelling back together, and hollyleaf is his sister and she doesn't make him feel like he needs protection and lionblaze is bad at that, and they start to talk again.

and yeah, they bond. again. it's kind of, on top of their old bond? like they don't repair anything, they bond like strangers. but it's not nothing, and that matters.

so jayfeather gets back, and we're moving into book five, and i don't remember when the last time i made a section break was or what number we're on, so...sorry.

section ???: old man yells at cloud

alright it's finally jayfeather's moment. you know, he's one of my favorite characters, and he only gets a book and a half. "but mateo," i hear you saying, "doesn't every character get a book and a half? and more importantly, 6x1.5 is 9, so how does every character get a book and a half?" well, yes, every character does, but dovewing and ivypool are relevant in books 1-3 and 6, cinderheart in 1-3 and 5, lionblaze in 1-3, and hollyleaf in 2-5 (and has a critical role in 1 and 6, just no character development), while jayfeather is just really essential to books 4-5, and has a background role in 3. that means he's about equal to lionblaze. he's equal to lionblaze. as far as the numbers go, i cannot tell you. it's a mystery.

right so the reason for this is because (a) jayfeather doesn't do that much in oots. i love him, but he's not, like, super important, and (b) he's going to work better in these books if he's concentrated. because his big theme is his relationship with hollyleaf and the past. they're both kind of stuck in it but in different ways. and that prevents them from ever properly healing. so jay never has a full arc in this. i mean he has a full arc, it's just not a satisfying one. and that means he's sort of got to be put in the containment units.

so anyway, he gets his real big moments in the fifth book, when he's reuniting starclan. i think this is one of the riskier decisions on my part: we'll see whether or not i can deliver on him the way i plan to. but i think i can pull it off so that his arc is more meaningful condensed as such.

right. so. jayfeather is decided. he is going to fix starclan. because dead cats need to get thier shit together and he dgaf.

he spends a decent amount of time arguing with yellowfang and bluestar, because basically no important cats have died. at least we're in omen of the stars so it still makes sense? i have no idea why yellow/blue are still so important. please kill more important cats. it makes us feel things.

but feathertail is also probably going to be involved, i don't know. i haven't read these books (specifically, books 4 and 5 of oots) in forever so i don't really remember what happens. but he's kind of, super done with everything. i think he'll probably try to get the support of mothwing and kestrelflight (which is canon i believe?) and try to work as a team. i feel like there's weirdness w shadowclan too i should sort out.

so yeah, there's some medicine cat bonding, everything is OK, sol is happening? but cinderheart is dealing with that. jayfeather is naturally very upset about disconnects with sol but like he's also dealing with stuff i...i really need to reread outcast and sign of the moon. well, they're on my list after "all of these fucking riverclan novels like why they don't show up in the main series but i still have to read a bunch to be able to write them that's not fair."

alright, well, with that very vague description of what happens, moving on, the prophecy gets revealed to the clans at a whole in like...the ending eighth of this book. trying to maximise the amount of exposure to other clans without messing with the pacing.

so jayfeather and undecided warrior B (definitively not hollyleaf) go to windclan. jayfeather is...very unhappy about this. he does not want to leave. thunderclan is his home, and he's blind, and it's really hard to adapt to a new space and he thinks everyone is going to treeat him badly.

and well, if you've read my culture posts, windclan is....very pro-medicine cats and pro-prophecy cats. funerals. mourning. prayer. is probably the best place to start, but to get to the meat of it, start with general clan culture. to summarize, windclan: religious. but kind of like catholics, they don't believe in an individual connection with starclan. only leaders, and medicine cats, and very rarely members of prophecies have a connection. so. jayfeather. he's twice over. that's very cool to windclan.

so cats are kind of falling over themselves to help him, and like. i mean jayfeather is a grouch and he hates that he needs someone to help him through the territory, but at least they don't treat it like a chore, or like he's pitiable. this is a desirable task. apprentices want to know about his powers. and kestrelflight is a respected part of the clan, arguably more important than onestar, and jayfeather has never really gotten over being shoved in the healer hole as a child like it was lesser or easier to be a medicine cat, and so it's a big change.

and yeah. so i mean. an unobservant reader might say jayfeather has sufficient ego. he does not need stroking. they, of course, would be wrong.

jayfeather has a complex, but it's not an ego issue. he's...he's been denied everything he's wanted, and he's jaded, and weary, and he's never really believed that his clan views him as able and equal. in canon, at present, he's lost almost every cat he's every cared about. alderheart is his strongest remaining tie, and his fear at losing him, but willingness to let him leave, is very telling.

so yeah, jayfeather enjoys being accepted. anyone would. he doesn't really have confidence issues, but....argh. i know why this is good i swear it'll come out in the writing.

anyway, that's...that's pretty much it. jayfeather? done.

[imaginaryelle]

If you're still taking asks, maybe a modern wangxian au where LWJ finds out WWX never learned to ride a bike so he decides to teach him? Or in line with those LWJ does something uncharacteristic but only for WWX's eyes (like winking at him) and WWX is so shocked and tries to convince anyone else that it happened but no one believes him. Just some general fluffiness 🤗

Anon, I hope you don’t mind that I threw A-Yuan in here too,because I had a brainwave halfway through writing this and “fluff”plus “Lan Wangji acting in ways other people won’t believe”came up with an answer of “A-Yuan.” (Also I re-watched relevantscenes and realized A-Yuan calls Wei Wuxian “Xian-gege” and Icould not resist.) This fic is ~2.7k and can also be read on AO3.

*

When Wei Wuxiansteps off the bus with A-Yuan balanced carefully against his hip, hefinds Yiling park is less crowded than expected for a sunny autumn day.  That may be due to the exhibition downtown, or to the coolbreeze snaking over the grounds and blowing hair into people’sfaces no matter how carefully they’d tied their ponytail. He swipeshis hair back irritably and checks that A-Yuan’s coat is stillbuttoned up. It hadn’t been this cool back at his apartment, butafter a few months of babysitting Wei Wuxian has learned at least afew things, and one of thosethings is that Wen Qing will absolutely pummel him if he takes thekid out without a jacket.

“This is usually areally nice place,” he tells A-Yuan as they walk hand-in-tiny-handtoward the pedestrian boulevard.  “When I was in school, fourdifferent classmates of mine got engaged here, over by the river, andthere’s a playground further in, and sometimes there arefireworks.”

The grounds haven’tchanged much since those days, which were, admittedly, only a yearago so he’s not sure what he was expecting. The walking paths arestill lined with trees and flower bushes for every season, and theelectric lanterns overhead creak as they swing in the breeze. It’sjust not really the sort of place he ever imagined Lan Wangjifrequenting. Full of couples and families with children, or usuallyfull anyway. Lan Wangji likes solitude and quiet. At least, he usedto.

Maybe something’schanged in the last few months. Something that would make himactually respond to one of Wei Wuxian’s messages for once. Andinvite him somewhere. On a not-date, because Wei Wuxian is verycertain that Lan Wangji doesn’t… date. And he definitely doesn’tdate university dropouts, no matter the state of their previousfriendship, or what sorts of daydreams and hopes Wei Wuxian stillguiltily harbors.

Not that theknowledge stops Wei Wuxian’ heart speeding up as he finally catchessight of a figure in a long white overcoat, standing quiet andself-contained next to one of the bubbling fountains spreadthroughout the park. Not that reminding himself of it keeps his palmsfrom sweating as they draw nearer.

“Lan Zhan,” hecalls when he can’t bear to wait any longer, and it’s gratifying,how quickly Lan Wangji turns.

“Wei Ying,” hesays, and there might even be a hint of a smile there before his eyeslock on A-Yuan and a frown etches itself between his brows. “Thisis …?”

“Oh!” Wei Wuxianrealizes, quite suddenly, that he never actually… sent that updatetext about his situation. Oops. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologies.“This is A-Yuan. I don’t usually watch him on Saturdays, but hisfamily had a—a thing today.” He waves his free hand, as if it canencompass the Wen family’s various complications and commitments.

Lan Wangji staresdown at A-Yuan without responding.

“Is—is thatokay?” Wei Wuxian bites his lip. “If it’s not I think I’mfree next week—”

“It’s fine,”Lan Wangji says. And then, with some concern, “Is he cold?”

Wei Wuxian looksdown to find A-Yuan has turned his face into Wei Wuxian’s leg, likehe’s hiding from the wind. But he’s not shivering, or clinging.It’s more like his occasional behavior at the supermarket, whenit’s overcrowded.

“Ah, no, I thinkhe’s just shy.” He pets A-Yuan’s hair. “A-Yuan,” he coaxes,“This is Lan Zhan, Xian-gege’s friend from school. He’s the onewho invited us out to play today.” A-Yuan shakes his head and staysstubbornly turned into him. Wei Wuxian can barely bite back his smileas he says, “Lan Zhan, your face is too severe, he thinks you’reangry.”

Lan Wangji managesto look even more concerned at this, and Wei Wuxian laughs. “It’sfine, it’s fine, he really is shy. It took him two days to warm upto me when I was first watching him.” He slings off his backpackand nudges A-Yuan closer to the fountain. “He’ll do better for abit of a distraction.”

The backpack isoverstuffed with things he or A-Yuan might need, but it’s easyenough to find the butterfly and the dragon he likes best.

“A-Yuan,” hesays, holding them out, “Do you want to show Lan Zhan your toys?”

A-Yuan bites hislip, his little hands clenching tight as he reaches out and thenpulls back.

“A-Yuan ishungry,” he declares, and Wei Wuxian sighs.

“We ate lunch anhour ago. I told you already, we can get noodles in a little while.All I have for you right now is shrimp crackers and dried plums.”

A-Yuan pouts. Shrimpcrackers and dried plums are tied for his least favorite snack, butbetween his anticipation of this outing with Lan Wangji and theunexpected chaos his morning had turned into Wei Wuxian hasn’trefreshed his supplies yet this week. He sets the toys on the wideedge of the fountain and turns with a grimace. “Sorry, Lan Zhan,”he says. “Sometimes he—”

“Will these work?”Lan Wangji produces a brightly colored bag of Lotus chips and holdsthem out to A-Yuan, who nods eagerly.

“Lan Zhan...”Wei Wuxian watches him open the snacks and pick out a careful pile ofchips that he presents on a paper napkin. Watches A-Yuan smile widelyat him and offer up his most polite and heartfelt ‘thank you.’There’s another, immediately recognizable snack bag peeking out ofLan Wangji’s bike pannier—the spicy version of the same brand oflotus snacks, which Wei Wuxian had eaten almost every day while theywere in classes together and which he knows for a fact Lan Wangjipersonally abhors.

For a moment he’sso overcome with nostalgia and inexplicable gratitude that he can’teven see what’s directly in front of him until Lan Wangji call hisname.

“What?” heblinks hard and clears his throat before meeting Lan Wangji’s gaze.“Sorry, Lan Zhan, what-ah. What did you even want to do today,anyway?”

Lan Wangji looks athim for a moment, and then at A-Yuan happily eating and playing, andthen nods to himself. He goes back to his bike panniers and rummagesfor a moment, reappearing with a bike helmet, which he pushes intoWei Wuxian’s unresisting hands.

“What’s thisfor?” he asks, staring at it. It looks suspiciously like LanWangji’s own bike helmetwith the white and the blue detailing tomatch his fancy road bike,but he supposes it’s possible there’sa second one. Lan Wangji had to buy it somewhere, right?

“Riding,”Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian sighs and passes the helmet back.

“LanZhan, wherever you want to go I’m sure we can walk. Or catch a bus!Get a taxi. It’s too—too windy to bike, and there’s no seat forA-Yuan on a rental.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and huncheshis shoulders like he’s warding of chills. Hot noodles are soundingmore and more appealing. 

“Youshould learn,” Lan Wangji says, and Wei Wuxian goes still. Noteven remotely adate then. Definitely nota date. No, instead LanWangji has found yet another weakness to poke his long, beautifulfingers into. Damn him.

“Whotold you?”

LanWangji is impassive, as ever. “You were at the skate park. With WenQionglin.”

WeiWuxian frowns. He spends a few evenings a week at the skate park withWen Ning, but none of that time is really related to—oh. Oh.The trick bike, two weeks ago. Which means Lan Wangji saw him crashinto a bench and nearly break his wrist. Whoops.

“LanZhan, that was a one-time thing,” he promises. “Don’t worry,I’m not going to be trying that again.” Even if riding a bikewould be worlds more convenient than walking next time he misses thebus to work.“I’m fine, really. Thereare plenty of ways to get around the city.” Heturns on his heel and scrunches up his face in the direction of ahappy couple on the walkingpaths. This is reallynot—wait. “Wait.” He spinsback around. “Did you mean—youwant to teach me?”

LanWangji is looking down at the helmet in his hands, not meeting WeiWuxian’s eyes.

“Mn,”he says, low enough that Wei Wuxian can hardly hear it over the rushof the fountain. He leans closer.

“Isthere a special reason?” he asks with renewed hope.

“WeiYing should learn,” Lan Wangji repeats.

Somuch for that then. Wei Wuxian pouts. But maybe he can turn this tohis advantage. Bike riding lessons could take hours. Maybe days. Itcould take multiple meetings, with and without A-Yuan in tow. Atminimum, it means more time spent with Lan Wangji, more opportunitiesto figure out if this is friendship rekindled or—or something else.

“Okay.”He plucks the helmet from Lan Wangji’s hands and smiles at the hintof surprise on his face. “Let’s do it.”

Ofcourse, as with anything involving Lan Wangji, there arecomplications. It’s not enough to just get on a bike and point itdown a clear patch of pavement, no, there are steps.The first of which is wearing a helmet, which takes a few minutesto get settled properly; WeiWuxian has no idea how Lan Wangji manages to wear it and still havesuch perfectly neat hair all the time.Wei Wuxian does not have thatgift. His ponytail gets inthe way, and Lan Wangjimeets the suggestion that they could just move on without the helmetwith an icy stare. So Wei Wuxian takes down his hair and puts it upagain three separate times, and stops to tease A-Yuan and let himselfbe laughed at, and then the straps have to be adjusted again, andagain.

Thatpart at least is mostly pleasant. Lan Wangji stands close enough thatWei Wuxian can count his eyelashes as he frowns and messes withplastic clips and slips his fingers carefully between Wei Wuxian’sskin and the buckle. It takes two tries before he’s satisfied thatthe helmet isn’t going to slip off and leave Wei Wuxian to rattlehis brain against the concrete, and by the time he steps back WeiWuxian has very nearly convinced himself that a kiss would be aharmless, innocuous thing and not at all a risk that makes hisinsides tie themselves into knots. Very, very nearly, but notquite well enough to close that last bit of distance between them.

Adjustingthe bike’s seat is significantly more frustrating.

“It’sfine,” Wei Wuxian insists, impatient after getting on and off thebike four times for what seem to be extremely minor adjustments.

“It’ssafer if your feet can touch the ground while you’re learning,”Lan Wangji says, unhooking the latch again.

“Theytouch!” Wei Wuxian fumes. “I’m not that much shorterthan you, I’ll knock myself out with my own knees if that seat goesany lower.” Not that any of his protests seem to matter in the faceof Lan Wangji’s conviction.

Finally,finally, after the seat is adjusted and Lan Wangji hasstubbornly held the whole bike still so that Wei Wuxian can tryputting his feet on the pedals without falling over, they can reallyget underway. Wei Wuxian moves A-Yuan to a slightly safer distancefrom both bicycle and fountain, tells him to stay put so he doesn’tget hurt, and straddles the bike one last time. Lan Wangji holds ontothe rack in an effort to keep the bike steady without being directlyin the way, but it’s still a wobbly effort. Wei Wuxian looks downthe stretched out downhill slope of pavement before him and seesnothing but a hard surface to fall on. For a moment he considers themerits of calling the whole thing of and insisting on an early dinnerafter all. His wrist twinges with remembered pain.

ButLan Wangji has gone to so much effort, and this is the first timehe’s reached out for anything in months. If Wei Wuxian backsout now he might not get another chance to see him for even longer.

“Okay.”The handlebars wobble and he tightens his grip with a grimace; LanWangji’s biek is the lightest, most responsive bicycle he’s everso much as touched. “Okay,” he repeats. “What next, Lan Zhan?”

“Pedalslowly, and remember the breaks,” Lan Wangji says at his shoulder,and then they’re moving, Lan Wangji’s footsteps at his side asthe tires roll and the pavement speeds by, faster and faster, andthen he realizes he can’t hear Lan Wangji’s footsteps anymore andhe’s gliding along on his own. Coasting down the hill. Speedingup.

Thespeed is exhilarating. Like jumping off a diving board or taking thehalf-pipe a little too fast. He lets out a whoop and leans into itand tries to pedal faster, and then the bike leaps suddenly sideways,and there’s a moment of trying to pedal backwards and trying toreach the brake levers at the same time, and then the whole bikeshudders underneath him and the horizon slips sideways and he hitsthe ground and slides.

Fora few seconds he just lies on his side doing a mental inventory ofhis parts. Ow. His left ankle and upper arm hurt. There’s gravelunder his face. He has no idea where the bike is. He thinks A-Yuanmight be crying in the distance.

“WeiYing!” Lan Wangji’s voice draws nearer. “Wei Ying,” rightoverhead. A hand grabs at his shoulder, another pressing to his face.

“Xian-gege!”A-Yuan yells, almost directly into his ear, still crying, and WeiWuxian reaches a hand up for him.

“I’mokay,” he says as soothingly as he can, patting blindly at A-Yuan’shead.“Shhhh, Xian-gege is okay, A-Yuan.”

“WeiYing,” Lan Wangji repeats, like he thinks Wei Wuxian can’t hearhim.

“LanZhan.” Wei Wuxian struggles to sit up, a process made moredifficult by both A-Yuan andLan Wangji’s hoveringpresence so close to his face. “Did I scratch up your bike?” Helooks around for clues to its whereabouts, but Lan Wangji makes adismissive noise and grabs at his hand.

“Areyou hurt?” he asks.

“No,”Wei Wuxian lies. Bruises don’t count, especially not with LanWangji holding his hand. “Lan Zhan, I’m fine, I promise,” heinsists when Lan Wangji looks unconvinced. More than unconvinced, LanWangji looks almost regretful. “Hey, hey, no,” Wei Wuxiansqueezes his hand. Dares to tug him a little closer. “I’m fine.Nothing an ice pack won’t cure.”

“Xian-gege.”A-Yuan chooses that moment to crawl from Lan Wangji’s lap to hisand press tiny toddler hands into his face. “Xian-gege is hurt,”he says, pushing at Wei Wuxian’s cheeks in a way that does,admittedly, make him wince.

“Everything’sokay, A-Yuan.” Wei Wuxian sighs and lets of of Lan Wangji’s handto wipe at the tears on A-Yuan’s cheeks. “I’m not hurt. I justmessed up. Do you remember what we do when we mess up?”

A-Yuannods seriously. “Try again,” he says dutifully, and Wei Wuxiangrins and bops his nose gently.

“That’sright! We try again. So that’s what we’re going to do, and thenwe’re going to go get noodles. Deal?”

“Mn!”A-Yuan nods eagerly.

“Deal,Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks, still grinning even though his cheekhurts with it, and even though his whole body is probably going toache tomorrow morning, especially if he falls again. “Let merepay you for the lesson with dinner?”

LanWangji gives him a long, slow look, but there’s a hint of a smilethere. Just enough to send Wei Wuxian’s heart soaring all overagain.

“Mn,”he agrees.

[yoshichao]

the Smashers and their Host Ch13 Preview

Series: Super Smash Bros.

Characters: Reader, Literally Everyone In Super Smash Bros Ultimate

Summary:  You're an inter-dimensional being that owns a huge estate situated on the cusp of spacetime. You've been asked to rent out your mansion for the upcoming Super Smash Bros. tournament. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Reader-Insert, Romantic & Platonic Harem, Comedy, Fluff, No Smut

Read the fic here!

[So after a year, I finally finished chapter 11... During my writer’s block, I actually started on what was then going to be chapter 12, but I’ve seen then squeezed another chapter between them in the plans. So, if all goes according to plan, this will be May’s update. Anyways, I feel like posting it so!! It’s not as meaty as the chapter 11 preview - this one is only about 2k words instead of a whopping 13k - but I hope you enjoy regardless!]

You can’t help but stare as the roller coaster above slowly reaches its peak before plummeting downwards, accompanied by a chorus of screams. Just watching the cars zip through loops and corkscrews makes your head spin, and you find yourself grateful that you aren’t on that particular ride. You don’t know if your heart could take it.

The repairs at the mansion finished with accompanying fanfare (well, in your head, at least) and you thought you’d be able to sit back and relax for a bit. Your new life had other plans, of course, and the Smashers were absolutely insatiable, so you had been invited to join them to an amusement park. Honestly, you should have declined - you wanted to! - but…

“Pleaaaaase?” Roy had been the one to ask you to join them, giving you puppy dog eyes as he held the brochure out. The park was in a place called Nimbasa City - recently expanded! grand re-opening! - which you recognized as a place in the Pokemon universe. 

“You know you can go without me, right?” you tried, still feeling worn out from all the Social Activities and babysitting you’ve been doing lately. The other day, you found DK using Pac-man as a bowling ball to “prank” anyone wandering the halls. Then the following day, you’re pretty sure Villager and Toon Link had a slingshot competition with the mansions’ windows. And then the day after that, Leaf helped you play detective to find out who was stealing all the speakers throughout the mansion, just to find Diddy Kong using them to create a “gaming set-up fit for a king”. 

Why.

Completely oblivious to your weariness, Roy’s expression remained enthusiastic, even when he gave you a mock-frown. “Sure, but, you said we would hang out together next time everyone was doing something!”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you did!”

Oh right, you did. You did say that after he wasn’t invited to the sleepover. Curse you and your desire to keep everyone happy! Now you have to go!

And so, after someone consulted Master Hand about building a temporary transporter directly to Nimbasa City, here you are.

“Whoa, it’s even cooler than in the pictures!” Roy, determined to take you up on your offer to spend time together, arrived via teleporter alongside you. While the mansion has been abuzz over another multiverse outing, you have no idea who actually intended on going. It’s already midday, so there are probably plenty of Smashers already here…

Pulling your gaze away from the roller coaster, you notice that your redheaded companion was also staring intently at the Rayquaza-themed deathtrap. His expression is strained, leading you to believe the both of you are thinking the same thing.

“Why don’t we start with getting something to eat?” you suggest, thinking of the safest option possible. Oh, but if you end up going on rides with a full stomach… Hm, maybe that’s not as safe as you thought. But Roy eagerly takes your suggestion and you have no choice but to follow him to the food court.

“That’s a great idea! I’m dying to see what kind of food this world has!”

You can’t help but agree, but his words have curiosity bubbling within you. “Have you never visited the Pokemon world before?”

“Only once, during Melee!” His grin is almost infectious, though it mellows out as he continues talking. “We never came out here during the last tournament season! ...Or at least, not while I was around.” Roy frowns a moment before putting on another smile, though this one seems a bit more forced. “Melee’s whole thing though was that we were travelling to a new universe for each round of the tournament. For the Pokemon world though, we took a blimp to the stadium, so we didn’t really get to explore…”

That’s right - you forgot Roy was technically only invited to one full tournament, so he wouldn’t have had as much time to relax and travel around with the others. It was only by popular demand that he was invited for the “extra” tournaments, appearing alongside Ryu as a secret opponent for the champions of the mini doubles tournament. They’d both go on to appear in the remaining tournaments and random matchups of the season. While that would have given him a few months to participate in fun activities with the others, you have to imagine a lot of that slows down during tournament season.

“But, a few Smashers and I snuck out between matches to check out the local town.” Roy continues his story sheepishly, smiling fondly at the memory. “And then we uh, went a bit too far… got lost in a cave… We made it back just in time for our next match, but Master Hand really gave us an earful…” He laughs awkwardly, and you find yourself snickering at the idea of Master Hand panicking when he discovered some of his hotshot superstars have gone missing. 

“Who all went with you?”

He counts them off on his fingers as he lists everyone. “Me, Pichu, Young Link, Popo, Nana... oh, and Ness. Pikachu ended up being the one who found us lost in the cave.”

You can just imagine the six of them running in circles trying to find the exit, just to have Pikachu show up and use its familiarity of the region to lead them out in mere minutes. 

...Huh. Funny, most of those six are Smashers that didn’t get invited back every year afterwards. And you remember there had once been rumours that Ness wasn’t going to be invited back to Brawl…

...Eh, probably just a coincidence. Master Hand wouldn’t exclude someone over an incident like that.

“I’m surprised Pikachu didn’t try to get you even more lost on purpose,” you say offhandedly. Roy’s expression is surprisingly contemplative.

“Nah, Pikachu used to be cool back then. Like, sure he liked to hype up the crowd, but outside of matches he was really chill.” He pauses. “I was surprised to find out he kind of became a jerk. Apparently he’s just been that way since the start of Brawl.”

“Really?” And here you thought the first tournament had been the catalyst to its inflated ego, where the electric rodent had won both the singles and the doubles tournaments that season. Pikachu’s record during Melee was pretty average… maybe something else happened between that and Brawl? An event none of the Smashers would have known about? 

Roy shrugs - he’s just in the dark about it as you are - and you notice you’ve arrived at the food court, signalling the end of the conversation. You spot a Pansage, a Panpour, and a Pansear behind a long counter. Pansage takes orders and hands them to the other two monkeys, who then proceed to rush around unnecessarily chaotically to put the order together. This seems like the type of environment where mistakes are easily made, but a lot of people seem to be eating food from here, so apparently they know what they’re doing…?

You end up ordering a Rawst Burger and a lemonade, while Roy gets a corn dog and a soda pop. On your way to finding somewhere to sit, you spot Falco getting his hot dog stolen by the Duck Hunt Dog. You’re glad he’s too far to notice you laughing.

“Look, there’s space at that table!” Your attention is brought back to Roy, who is pointing at a table with only one other person sitting at it. Coincidentally, the spiky blond haired dude there is someone you recognize as part of the Smash crew. Roy takes longer to recognize him - it’s not until you’ve both rounded the table to sit across from the swordsman that he addresses him.

“Oh hey, you’re that guy… uh, Rain, was it?”

When the blond looks up and you see his face, an involuntary snort arises from your throat as you try to hold back laughter.

“It’s Cloud. Cloud Strife.” Apparently they offer facepainting somewhere at the park, because Cloud’s face is covered in ink that resembles a bunny. When combined with his completely serious expression, you have to hide a smile behind your hand as you sit down. 

“Right, that’s it. I knew that.” Roy sits next to you, raising an eyebrow at the swordsman across from you two. “What’s on your face?”

“It’s a rabbit.”

“I guess someone is offering facepainting somewhere?” you clarify helpfully, and Roy’s face lights up in recognition.

“Oh! That sounds fun.” He looks to you with enthusiasm. “Hey, what animal do you think I should get? Heh, probably something fierce, like a lion, or--”

“A puppy,” you reply without hesitation, interrupting his own ideas. Roy looked shocked at your suggestion - almost even offended. Whoops. 

“A-A puppy? Not like… a bigger dog? A wolf, maybe…?”

“I think a puppy would suit you as well,” Cloud agrees. Roy’s jaw drops as he’s left struggling for an objection, but Cloud moves the conversation before he can say anything. “They also do portraits - look.”

He hands you a large rolled up piece of canvas paper that you’ve been curious about for awhile now before returning to picking at his funnel cake (mm, you gotta get one of those later). Roy leans into your personal space to take a look as you unroll it.

Oh my. That is certainly a caricature. 

Roy almost immediately lets out a laugh. “Wo-ow! That would explain your face.”

The canvas blocks your vision so you can’t see Cloud’s face, but you can hear him exhale deeply. Rolling the portrait back up, you place it down on the table.

“I like the style! The art is very clean.” You’ve seen a lot of skill levels in the art found in your mansion, so it’s pretty easy to think outside of “bad” and “good”. Then of course, there’s your own art to consider… yeesh. “I think the artist really captured your character.”

“That’s what I thought,” Cloud responds with a nod, relaxing in the seat. Roy snorts beside you, and you refrain from elbowing him quiet in favour of shooting him a wry look.

“What, you think you could do better?”

Your challenge seems to actually take him off guard, and he fumbles to regain his confidence. “Uh… pfft. Of course. Anyone could do that.” He tries to laugh confidently, but there’s a clear nervous edge to it. Refusing to show him mercy, you play along by feigning amazement.

“Really? Wow, I’d love to see that. Maybe we should have an art show back at the mansion! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“O-Ooh, I mean… You really think people would be interested in that…?”

Cloud recognizes the game you are playing and chimes in with an immediate “I would”. You do a gesture as if to say “see??”, smiling bright and devious until his resolve finally breaks.

“F-Fine! I’ll do it! But don’t say I didn’t warn you, cuz I’m… really good!!” His voice shakes with anxiety at the end, and it takes all you have not to burst out laughing. This is good. This is so good. You’ll have to file this “art show” idea away for down the road, so you can spring it on him again unexpectedly. Although, torture and humiliation aside, you actually suddenly are curious if any of the Smashers are secretly artists. 

“Yes! I’m looking forward to it!” With a grin, you end the conversation by finally picking up your burger and taking a bite into it. Huh, it tastes… fruity. Bitter. Wait, that must be because there are Rawst Berries used in it. Guess you should have seen this coming. You don’t hate it, but the taste has definitely taken you off-guard and you’re not sure you like the mix of meat and berry. 

You must have been making a face because Cloud slides his funnel cake plate halfway across the table. “Here. I probably won’t finish it anyways.”

Forgetting about his previous worries, Roy smiles and reaches for the plate. “Ooh, don’t mind if I do--” To his dismay, Cloud hits his hand away.

“I didn’t offer it to you.”

Roy looks torn. You’d feel bad for him if it wasn’t so funny. Likewise, you usually try to politely decline gifts so as to not seem greedy, but you are enjoying having fun at Roy’s expense. “Thanks!” You put down the burger and reach for a piece of the doughy, sugary treat. Ripping it off, you pop it in your mouth and audibly hum in delight. Hehe, you’re a real devil!! If you wanted to be really mean, you could mention how sad it is that Roy can’t know how good this is, but you are not that cruel. Not right now, at least.

Between stealing chunks of funnel cake and continuing to try finishing the burger (nnnnnope, still tastes weird!), you let your mind wander to thoughts regarding the swordsman across from you. Back in the day, Cloud was a popular request to join the tournament despite existing extremely far away from the bubble of universes Master Hand typically picked from. When he was announced as a surprise participant in the final Super Smash Bros. 4 season tournament, fans exploded with excitement. You were honestly surprised to see him on the list for the Ultimate roster - you hear that Cloud Strife is a tough guy to work with and that’s why he doesn’t make many multiverse appearances despite his popularity. Not even the heads of the more local Playstation All-Stars tournament could get him. Master Hand must have really pulled some strings to get him to participate in Smash not once, but twice.

[...and that is unfortunately all I have. See you next month for chapter 12!]

[merrrcurius]

some step-papashi for you hoes

i’ve written several scenes for myself and i’m having a lot of fun with this au, but i’m not sure if i should add to my growing pile of wip’s on ao3 lol... lotta pressure, but i’m down if y’all are?

the gist: kakashi is a fine-ass soccer coach who cares. the following circumstances bring our two fav people together.

Fingers thrumming against the steering wheel in rhythm to the rock song playing on the radio, Kakashi drove down the winding exit of the park debating the pros and cons of cooking dinner or picking up takeout. The barbeque colored street lights illuminating the road made him crave some type of meat, but that would take too long to cook and he was feeling particularly lazy tonight.

Dealing with his latest team of brats tend to put him in the mood to sloth out for an indeterminate amount of time. Tonight had been rough. It was only the third week of practice with his new team and already he wanted to strangle these kids. They were a bunch of little shits that needed an ass-whooping, especially Tenzo’s team. Unfortunately, he could only dole out so many laps and exercises as punishment before the kids began complaining to their parents and then the parents started complaining to them…

Kakashi had to remind himself that he actually enjoyed coaching.

Whatever his food choice, or lack thereof, a hot shower and some smutty fanfiction on the back porch would conclude his day. Forget answering emails, cleaning his cleats, or managing the gym’s finances. All of that could be saved for tomorrow. He'd rather starve than waste any precious time relaxing, especially since The-Toad-Master's new chapter should have updated during practice if the last author’s note was anything to go by. Kakashi glanced at the clock on his dash and shift impatiently in his seat. Oh yeah, I'm way late.

Slowing down for the stoplight at the end of the drive, the man looked both ways out of habit despite the empty highway only to do a double-take at the sight of one of his U-10 soccer players sitting on a bus bench. Yanking up the mask he'd left hanging around his neck to hide his “degeneracy”, Kakashi rolled down the passenger window and called out to her. “Yo." 

She was either really smart or really stupid for ignoring him. Kakashi cleared his throat as he turned the knob down on the radio and said a bit louder, “Sarada.”

“Coach!” The little brunette startled, fumbling her flip phone like a football before turning to gape at him. “Ah - hi! It’s you!” She squeaked and tucked her phone away. “W-What're you still doing here?"

“Aa?” Kakashi cocked an eyebrow and withheld the amused chuckle bubbling in his throat. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Oh, um, this…" She gestured to the bench nervously and stuttered out, "I… I was just… er, you know… waiting."

“By the highway?” Kakashi asked and set his forearm on the steering wheel, giving a discreet glance around to emphasize that this was not acceptable. He cocked a brow. “What happened to the ride picking you up at the pavilion?”

Sarada pursed her lips angrily for a moment and tugged on the sleeves of her red jacket as if she were uncomfortable. Then muttered. “Er, s-something came up…”

“Okay…” Kakashi trailed off with a frown pulling at his mouth. Narrowing his eyes, Kakashi wiggled his fingers against the gearshift. Who the fuck leaves their - “But, wouldn’t it be safer to wait back at the field?”

“I’m fine, Coach! Really!” 

“Maa," Kakashi sat back with sigh and ruffled his hair as he thought about what to do in this kind of situation. He wasn’t fit to be a parent - or a coach really - hell, this whole gig had only started out to log hours for community service. Considering that, did he have any right to judge another parent for something like this? He cast an uneasy eye at the kid. Yes. Yes, he did. Consternation coloring his tone, he said, “I dunno if I can let this slide. Come on, I’ll drive you back. We can practice drills while we wait for your ride.”

Sarada scrambled for the laminated square hanging on her backpack as she tried to explain her situation and said, “You don’t have to, Coach! I take the bus all the-”

Perhaps he had been to open handed with his instructions. Kids these days.

“That wasn’t a question.” Kakashi interrupted firmly and stared at her. The girl crossed her arms and attempt to hold a glare, refusing to move despite the nervous bounce to her leg. Kakashi raised an eyebrow at her attitude and stated grimly, “If you make me step out of this car, you won’t be playing in next week’s game, Sarada. Get in.”

Sarada attempt to hold her ground a few more seconds until she heard his car door open and the overhead light came on. With a yelp, she ran to the passenger side door and yanked it open. Moving some binders for their stats and strategies out of the way, Kakashi eyed the large overnight bag she situated on his floorboard wondering if she was homeless but quickly dismissed that ridiculous thought. She was ten years old. And she had a mom. Although, that had never deterred him as a child...

Sighing inaudibly to mourn the chunk this would take out of his reading for the night, Kakashi twist in his seat to look for any cars behind him before pulling a u-turn in the entrance of the park. The ride back to the soccer field was quiet and tense; Kakashi pondering whether he had been too harsh on a child that wasn't even his about something not even sport related and Sarada embarrassed, worrying if opening the car door count towards her suspension.

Parked once more near the fields they'd claimed earlier in the evening, Kakashi reached under the seat to pull the lever and scoot his seat back for extra space to put his cleats back on. They were wet and muggy. He sighed.

“So, that’s what that smell was…”

Kakashi shot Sarada a look and retort. “More like your upper lip.”

Sarada blew a scoff through her lips to hide her laugh and turned away, crossing her arms defiantly. She muttered to the window, “What a lame comeback.”

“You’re just mad you don’t have anything to comeback with,” Kakashi mocked sassily, bobbing his head as he bent his leg for a better angle. Once his socks were snug in wet ass cleats again, he grabbed a ball from the backseat and stepped out. 

Sarada didn’t budge from her spot. 

Glancing back, Kakashi shrugged and decided to juggle while they wait. He couldn’t care less if she sat in the car and ignored him. After removing the doubts of his behavior, he'd decided it would simply be irresponsible of him to leave her by the highway and there was no way around that fact, even if Sarada chose to be stubborn about it. Perhaps, if she’d been smart and waited inside the pavilion like she’d originally said she would do... they wouldn’t be here. To think he had thought everyone was picked up. How had she managed to walk all the way to the exit without him noticing, anyways?

It didn’t take long for Sarada to get bored. She climbed out of his 4runner and stomped across the sidewalk to join him, a scowl maring her face. When he didn’t acknowledge her, she called out for him to pass. Looking all the world as if he were blatantly ignoring her, Kakashi turned away to take in the field with his hands on his hips. It was another cold night in January, a fine mist settling on some of the fields. He was glad the city park kept the lights on after dark, otherwise they would be in a pickle.

When asking didn’t work, she huffed and puffed before charging to take it by force. Kakashi smiled and adjust his mask as he await her approach. Her pigtails were whipping around her shoulders. Poor form. He needed to teach these kids how to run properly otherwise this season was going to suck. When she was close enough, he kicked the ball through the open stride between her feet at the last minute and walked around her.

Spinning to face him, Sarada growled impatiently, “Why won’t you pass? You said we would practice!” 

“Why should I?" Kakashi teased as he dribbled circles around her. "It’s no fun passing to a grump.”

“I’m not a grump! You’re a grump, old man!”

“Old man, eh?” A chuckle huffed through his mask as he backpedaled away from her, dragging the ball with him as he taunt her. “At least, I can keep the ball.”

“I’ll show you!” Sarada yelled and dove in, leaving her stance wide open when she ran up. 

He nutmegged her a second time and kept running toward the goal in case she tried to kick him like a savage brat. These kids were vicious. He called over his shoulder, "Maa, what was that, Sarada-chan?"

Now, normally, he’d feel bad for showing up a little kid, but not tonight. Sarada and Boruto had argued all two hours of practice about something completely unrelated to soccer. She deserved it for giving everyone a headache. Everyone being him and Tenzo. The kids thought it was hilarious.

“What a coward! You can’t run away!”

Stopping short with one foot on the ball and one hand rubbing his masked chin, Kakashi looked to the sky and said, "What were you showing me again? I can’t remember.”

Sarada bellowed a funny little shannaro he'd learned the girl favored over the last few weeks before he heard her running at him again.

Kakashi tucked his hands in his sweats as he waited patiently and listened to her cleats tearing into the ground. He had to admit, for a nine-year-old with poor form, what Sarada lacked in defense, she made up for in speed when she got going. Glancing behind him to confirm her position, he wait three more seconds and rolled the ball behind him, effectively nutmegging her again with his back turned. She squeaked and ran straight into him since he didn’t move. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Hmm… how should I put this? You suck, Sarada-chan."

“O-m-g, whatever! I’m done!” Sarada yelled and kicked the grass angrily. “I should have caught the bus. This is stupid!”

“You’d be waiting till six in the morning for that.” Kakashi said, idly dragging the soccer ball back and forth under his foot as he watched her throw a fit.

Sarada stopped suddenly and looked up at him. “What? Why?”

“The bus doesn’t run this late, goofball.” Kakashi crumpled his brow and said incredulously, “Maa, you weren’t kidding when you said you were new in town.”

“Seriously?” Sarada cried and threw her hands in the air as she fell back on her butt. “Why is this place like this! What am I supposed to do now? Mom will have to drive all the way across town just to pick me up now. This is terrible!”

Kakashi hummed quietly, allowing his judgemental confusion to bubble for a moment as he swayed back and forth with his hands in his pockets. Then, he asked, “Doesn’t she usually?”

“Yes sir, but not this time.” She mumbled and crossed her arms angrily. 

“Well…” Damn, now he had to know. Sarada’s mom was pretty exotic and hella feisty. She punched one of the dad’s in the head at open tryouts for saying something or another. He’d never seen anything like it. It was one of the only times Kakashi wished he indulged in gossip with the parents. After a moment of deliberation, Kakashi adjust his mask nervously, afraid of overstepping boundaries and asked, “What about your dad?”

“Um… He’s not...” Tiny fingers pulled at the grass beneath her, ripping patches out until she found words. She looked across the fields and said quietly, “Around… very often.”

“Aa, I see...” Kakashi said, gaze flickering between her face and her angry sundering of the grass. He hadn’t known Sakura was a single mother, although he shouldn’t have been surprised. Both parents usually showed up for Opening Day, took turns picking their kids up, or showed up to watch the first game at the very least, but he hadn’t seen any male that fit the description. “And you don’t have anyone else to pick you up? Maybe a grandmother?”

“We don’t have family here. My mom was offered a better job at the hospital, so… we moved.” Sarada shook her head at the ground, too busy cleaving grass in two to notice his awkward inner dialogue. She ducked her head and sniffled. “I’m really sorry, Coach. I didn’t mean to… for this...”

Mild panic shot through his system realizing this little girl was about to cry. Fuck. Why? It wasn’t that big of a deal. Things like this happened. It couldn’t be helped. Kakashi sucked in a breath of air as he crouched in front of her and plucked a few grass strands of his own. He wasn’t good at small-talk or emotions, he knew this and that was fine. Coaching was easy in a way that allowed him to be a hardass, strict and precise without all the extra stuff, but this… He really should work on his people-skills if he wanted to continue working with kids. 

What could he say? What exactly should he do? The girl claimed she rode the bus often, she even had a laminated bus pass, although it was for a different city, but leaving her unsupervised was just… not his forte. Children weren’t supposed to be left alone so young. It was strange that her mother would allow this and yet it seemed she actually wasn’t, somehow. “Sarada... next time your mom has to work late, just hang out at the field. Alright? It’s no big deal, I’ll wait until-” 

“No! It’s not her fault this time! Please don’t kick me off the team!” Sarada cried out suddenly, big watery eyes gazing up at him imploringly. “Dad was supposed to be here, to-to pick me up f-for dinner - but... but something came up-” Sarada snapped her jaw shut and looked away, face twisted with all the fury of a child betrayed. Tears steadily dripped down her chin despite how fast she was attempting to wipe them away.

Kakashi rotate his jaw as he bowed his head to give her a moment of privacy, and if he also happened to be avoiding her emotional display, well, he never said he was a good coach. Her words weighed heavily on his chest, uncomfortably close to his own childhood wounds and he didn’t want to think about it. He pressed his thumbnail into a blade of grass and watched it split.

“It’s just… It’s so embarrassing! I don’t want everyone to know and I didn’t want them to think I was getting extra p-practice like my last team. They started a whole crap ton of drama and Boruto w-would only make fun of me and call m-me a loser if he knew.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that butthead.” Kakashi said as he tossed his grass blades at her, jumping on the chance to turn this conversation elsewhere. “If they thought you were getting special training, they’d probably ask me for extra on the sly, too. You’d be a trendsetter.”

Sarada’s face lit up with a small giggle, but it died out quickly. She wiped her nose and looked up at him nervously. “S-Still, wouldn’t you have to wait here the whole time? I mean, my last coach got… he got really mad when I had to stay late and eventually told my mom to stop bringing me... I-I don’t wanna h-hic-old you up…”

Kakashi frowned at the thought of a nine year old taking the bus in a city as big as Konoha and wondered what in the fuck was wrong with whoever she’d had last year. Coaches had a duty to the kids while they were in their care, they owed that to the parents. To abuse or neglect those unspoken vows was just... wrong. Kakashi suddenly felt lucky to have had the kind of coaches he did growing up. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for his next words. If she had no one else to tell her what was wrong with this situation, then he would have to. That’s something he had loved about Minato-sensei. The man never let bullshit fly. 

He picked at the bottom of his mask nervously, wishing he didn’t feel so constricted, wishing he felt more confident. Failure wasn’t an option, though. Lessons like this were imperative to learn at a young age, no matter how uncomfortable. Leveling a finger at her, Kakashi said perhaps too blunty, “Screw that guy. And your dad. It isn’t safe to sit by yourself next to the highway of all places, especially at this time of night… Do you understand what I’m trying to say, Sarada?”

Sarada looked down at her twisted hands and nodded meekly, eventually managing to croak out a weak ‘yes sir’ as another trail of tears dripped down her cheeks. Kakashi felt his insides twist painfully at the wobble in her lip. He hadn’t meant to make her feel worse or feel like it was her fault because it damn sure wasn’t. Maybe he should have worded it differently? 

Running an anxious hand through his hair, he tugged at the ends as he bowed his head and tried to think of what to say to make her feel better, at the very least, turn this conversation to something easier so as not to end on a bad note. How would this look for her mom to drive up and see her daughter crying? There would be hell to pay, for sure. She may even take her daughter off the team and Kakashi couldn’t afford that. They only had two substitutes this year… He didn’t have kids, but he considered his soccer team to be pretty close to what it would feel like to have some and he didn’t want her to quit the team because of this or have hard feelings towards him and he hated to think of what she might be going through at home.

“Listen,” He began, dropping to his ass to mirror her as he took on a more gentle tone so it wouldn’t sound as if he were attacking her. “You don’t even have to say anything next time, okay? Just kick the ball around and if you haven’t left by the time everyone else has, I’ll understand what’s up. And I promise - Hey, look at me,” Kakashi wiggled a cleat in her line of sight and ducked his head to catch her watery eyes past the glare of her glasses. “I promise I won’t be mad. Or kick you off the team. That’s stupid.”

“Really?” Tears welled up in her eyes again as her face screwed up with emotion. Then she held out her pinky and wheezed out. “Pinky promise?”

“Aa,” A quiet, uncomfortable chuckle escaped him as he looked down. “My big toe’s stronger. How about that?”

“Ew, no! I’m not touching your big toe!” Sarada giggled a bit hysterically and scrubbed under her glasses to wipe her eyes. 

“Are you sure?” Kakashi asked quickly and wrangled off a cleat to wiggle a sweaty sock at her. “Perfect timing. Big toe soup right here.”

Sarada shrieked and jumped up to run around him. He couldn’t help snickering as he pulled his shoe back on. Good. Things were… better. Okay, at least.

They passed the ball around a bit and he attempted to explain how to time a nutmeg until her mom arrived.

===

now that i’ve put this out, i’m debating whether or not to add their meeting when Sakura picks her up... i dunno yet. lemme know whatcha think peeps!

[hystericalrogertaylor]

Reconnecting (Chapter Seventeen)

Pairing: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor X Reader

Word count: 1693

Summary: (Y/n) and Roger have been friends since the cradle. When they’re suddenly pulled apart and reconnected years later, they both can tell that the relationship has evolved. They lead very different lifestyles now. Can they continue what they had, or go for something more, with this gap between them?

Warnings: Talking about anxiety/anxiety attacks, mentions of sex, cussing

A/N: Pffffff I’m way off of my updating schedule. I’m updating this from a hospital bed lmao. Nothing bad, just having a minor operation tomorrow morning. I’ll make a post about this, but I probably won’t be that active tomorrow, and that’s why. Enjoy this chapter!

My masterlist with all my other stories and the previous parts of this story can be found there! Reblog this with feedback if you liked it! Or if you didn’t like it and want to vent about how shitty it is, reblog it anyway! 

~~~

Three months after first laying in bed with Roger as a couple, you were squeezed into his bunk on the bus as the vehicle rumbled down the road, away from Market Square Arena in Indianapolis. He had his shirt off, with the curtain drawn to give you two some privacy. He was sweaty, but you didn’t care as you lay on top of him, kissing him passionately. He had his hands up your shirt, his fingers almost tickling you as they gently ran up and down your sides.

You broke the kiss, panting heavily as you buried your face in his neck. “You looked really good tonight.”

He let out a low chuckle, reaching a hand down to squeeze your ass. “I always do better when you’re watching.” You tried to make it to every show, but sometimes Reid needed help with some manager stuff, or sometimes you were in pain and wanted to lie down. The wound had healed really well and you rarely needed to take it easy anymore, but there was the odd day when you had to sit out of the day’s festivities.

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss onto his jaw. “No, I mean you looked really hot. I just couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

He smirked, slowly rolling over until he was on top of you. “Well, to be fair, I’m always thinking about kissing you.”

You blushed, turning your face to the side. “Stopppp.”

He used a finger to tilt your face back towards his, pressing a short kiss on your lips. He sighed, twirling a piece of your hair. “God, you’re beautiful.”

You bit your lip, bringing his face back down to yours a few seconds later. He moaned quietly into the kiss, putting his hand on the wall of the bunk above your head.

“Ugh, guys, there are other people trying to sleep here,” Brian grumbled, rustling around in his much-too-small bunk. “I was gonna let it slide, but you guys sounds like you’re dying to fuck each other. Not cool.”

Roger broke away, rolling his eyes. “I’m well aware that these bunks are too small to fuck in. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

You sighed. “Rog, I’m right here.”

“Oops, sorry.” He grimaced, remembering you don’t like hearing about his past hookups, which was reasonable. “Brian, I’m allowed to kiss my girlfriend.”

“Until it wakes us up,” Freddie chimed in. “I love that my favorite couple are happy, but I’m exhausted. So please, speak quietly.”

You chuckled. “Goodnight, Freddie.”

“Goodnight darling, use a condom.”

“FREDDIE!” Roger shouted, eliciting a loud shushing noise from Brian. John continued to sleep soundly.

---

A couple weeks later came a series of three concerts in Santa Monica. Reid decided it would be best for the band to stay in a hotel for that time period. Freddie researched the most lavish hotels in the area, and found one similar to the hotel in Liverpool. He purposely got four rooms so you and Roger could share. Not that you minded; it would mean less cramped sleeping than on the bus, and you still got to be with your boyfriend.

The concept of having Roger Taylor as your boyfriend still baffled you sometimes. James had made you feel worthless in the final months of your relationship, and now someone as amazing as Roger was willing to publicly admit to being in a relationship with you. The thought made your heart swell.

And Roger couldn’t understand how he managed to end up with you, either. He was a notorious womanizer of the rock world, which made long-term relationships very difficult; look at his relationship with Gayle. All they did was shag and fight. Now, he was able to do normal relationship things, like staying up late and giggling, kissing whenever, talking about deep topics, and cuddling. You were a serial cuddler, and Roger loved it. He loved holding your body against his and feeling the warmth radiating off of you. It was the time spent with you, in those intimate moments, that made Roger happier than he’d ever been.

“I have an idea,” Roger said, sitting down next to you on the couch in your room.

You pulled your knees to your chest, setting your book down on the table next to you. “Well, do tell.”

He cleared his throat. “So you know how the pier is only a few minutes’ walk away, right?” You nodded. “Well, what if I took you there tomorrow, after the show, as our first official date as a couple?”

You’d been talking to Roger about a date, but he’d been so busy during the whole tour that he hadn’t been able to put anything together. You were okay with it, you just wished it could’ve been different. Now, you were smiling as wide as you could. “I would love that,” you said.

Roger returned your smile, tackling you into a hug. You both fell off the couch, lying on the floor next to each other. You began to laugh, while Roger pushed his hair out of his face, staring up at the ceiling.

“Whoops,” he breathed, chuckling. “Sorry.”

You grimaced, trying to ignore the pain in your stomach; the scar didn’t like aggravation like that. “It’s fine.”

He rolled over, hovering over you with his elbow on the floor. “Did it hurt the scar?”

“A little, but it’ll be fine tomorrow morning.” You tried to sit up, but before you could, Roger brought his lips down to yours. You put your head back down on the floor, pulling him on top of you. He put his forearms on either side of your head, holding himself up. Your hands explored his chest over his shirt, feeling the muscles bulging after the exercise he got by playing the drums at the concert. He broke away, moving his lips down to your neck. You groaned, digging your fingers into his hair.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Roger murmured into your skin.

You nodded. “My scar hurts.”

He placed a kiss on your forehead before standing up, holding his hand down to help you up. You pulled yourself up and walked over to one of the beds, gently laying down on your side. Roger lay down next to you, pulling you into his body. You sighed in contentment, drawing circles on his chest with your finger.

“Goodnight, love,” Roger whispered.

“Goodnight, Rog.”

---

The pier was scaring you, if you were being honest.

For some reason, you were worried you’d turn around at any moment, and he would be there, a knife in hand, ready to end you. You knew it was irrational, he was in prison on a different continent. But your anxiety was flaring up, and all the people around you didn’t make it better.

“What’s wrong?” Roger asked as you nudged the hot dog he’d bought you, not even taking a bite.

“I’m anxious,” you answered honestly. You didn’t see any point in hiding your worries from him.

He sighed. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?”

You shook your head. “I love being here with you, I just don’t like being around all these people.” You took a shaky breath. “I’m too worried he could be in these crowds.” Roger’s sad eyes made you wish you hadn’t said anything. You didn’t want to be a burden to him. “Forget it, let’s just--”

“Wait.” He grabbed your hand, squeezing it. “You know how we can get out of these crowds?” You frowned. “Let’s go on the Ferris wheel.”

You smiled. “That sounds fun,” you whispered.

Roger held you close as you made your way through the throngs of people towards the giant wheel. You stared at your feet, not looking up at anything until you were in line for the ride. Roger had his arm around your waist, trying his hardest to make sure no one bumped into you.

Once it was your turn, Roger paid a small fee and guided you towards the compartment that would be yours. You sat down next to him, placing your head on his shoulder as the machine began to move.

“Thank you,” you said, looking into his eyes. “I feel like I would’ve had an actual anxiety attack if I’d stayed down there longer.”

“No problem.” He wrapped an arm around your waist. “Your fears are not irrational. But just know I’m here to help you and keep you safe. No one’s gonna touch you.”

You sniffled, a few tears running down your face. “You’re amazing.”

He smiled. “Only for you.”

The ferris wheel stopped, and you noticed you were at the very top. “They must be letting someone else on,” you reasoned.

Roger looked over the side of the car. “Wow,” he said. “You’ve gotta check this out.”

You peered over the same side, gasping at what you saw. All the lights, the skyline, and the ocean at your back all worked together to create the most beautiful scene you’d ever seen. It was breathtaking. The world had never seemed so beautiful.

“Roger, this is…” You looked over at him, finding him staring at you. “What?”

His eyes flicked down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “You are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

You hid your face in your hands. “Ahh, I’m blushing.”

He grabbed your wrists and pulled your hands away gently. “Can I kiss you?” he asked slowly. You nodded, and he slowly placed his lips on yours.

It was something else. The cold breeze gave you goosebumps, causing you to shiver and move closer to Roger. He wrapped both arms around you, almost pulling you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tilting your head to the side.

“(Y/n)?” he asked, pulling away and placing his forehead on yours. His lips still brushed against yours, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.

“Yeah?” you responded.

“I…” He trailed off, moving his eyes to look at the ocean before looking back at you. “I’m having a great time.”

You nodded. “I am too.”

He reconnected his lips to yours just as the wheel began to spin.

Taglist:

@thessxoxo @roger-bang-the-drum @slavsher @sabbrrriinnaa @i-ship-it-ironically @blissfully-queen @oyoke@borhapqueen92@girlpluto @secretsweetscollectionblog@bentaylorrogerhardy@16wiishes @emmieliabedelia @onevisionliz@mr-stank-i-dont-feel-so-dank@rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @cosmicsskies@thewinchesterchronicles @florenceivy @benhardyseyes@letmelivetaylor @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @holding-onto-cas

[angelgrotesque]

Songs for Soulmates *Plance* Twelve|Lance

Wow the last time I updated this was like,,, Thanksgiving break rip. I need to update this more often lmao| anyway, part two of the fluffy road trip series! 

Lance woke up hugging something tightly close to his chest. He wondered briefly and embarrassingly if he’d brought his pillow with him and he was hugging his pillow, but when he opened his eyes slightly, he saw that it was Pidge, who was, admittedly, around the same size as his pillow. Whoops. It took a while for it to finally register in his brain that Lance was actually sleeping next to his soulmate, who, for a while, he thought he’d never meet. But here she was, snuggled into him, her arms wrapped around him. Lance felt his face flush a bright red and he let out a quiet squeak. Pidge made a soft noise and buried her face closer into Lance’s sleep shirt, if that was even possible. The moment was ruined when a click resonated a lot louder than it should have throughout the RV. Lance’s half open eyes snapped all the way open quickly, and he shot up and glared at the source of the noise. Keith stood, next to Hunk and Romelle, with his phone held gently in his right hand and shit eating grin all too apparent on his face. His hair was messy from sleeping, and all three of them were still in pajamas, Romelle in her pink and blue stripes and Hunk, in his  yellow corgi PJs, who still hadn’t tied his signature orange bandana around his forehead.

“Hey!” Lance protested. Romelle giggled and Hunk smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry man, we’re all just so happy for you that you found your soulmate! Sleeping next to each other is a huge milestone, and you reached it in, like, two weeks. That’s crazy!” Hunk said, excited.

“Besides, you guys look so cute together!” Romelle clapped her hands together happily. Her hair was down, and reached almost down to her knees when it wasn’t tied up. She almost looked like a different person, even if she did still have the odd birthmarks on her cheeks. According to Coran, those ran in the family without fail. Allura had them too.

“I just wanted blackmail material,” Keith admitted, and shook his phone in front of Lance’s face, “and what do you know? Looks like I got it.”

“Stop making fun of me just because it took you a month to get used to having a soulmate.” Lance shot back. Keith frowned and shot him a look.

“...Lance?” Pidge grumbled, sleepily sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Her hair was messy and without her glasses, she looked completely different. And adorable. So adorable.

“Morning,” Lance greeted, already forgetting all about Keith’s photo. He smiled reached over Pidge to get her round glasses off her nightstand. He handed them to her, and Pidge put them on, immediately being able to see the three figures standing at the foot of their bed. “Wait... what are you doing?”

“Keith took blackmail photos. But Hunk and Romelle say we’re cute together!” Lance explained excitedly.

“I... uh, thanks?” Pidge yawned. “Sorry, I’m not a morning person.”

“That’s okay. I am, so I can get up in the morning and make you pancakes and then we can have breakfast in bed!” Lance said. His grin was nearly stretched from ear to ear by now. Keith snorted.

“I like pancakes,” Pidge hummed.

“Well, you’re in luck! EVERYONE! I MADE PANCAKES AND WAFFLES!” Hunk announced. 

“PANCAKES!” Matt sat bolt upright in his hammock at the news, then promptly fell out of it.

“Oh. Is it breakfast time already? Allura asked. She yawned and jumped out of her hammock and landed gracefully on her feet. Sometimes Lance wished he’s also taken dance lessons so he wouldn’t be so clumsy all the time.

Shiro pulled over to the side of the road; Lance hadn’t even noticed they were moving. Shiro must’ve gotten up really early.

“You better have packed some jam, Hunk.” He said, and yawned. “I’ve been up since 3AM and I need sugar.”

“What? Jam?” Lance asked, appalled, “Do you like... not like syrup on your pancakes?”

“I don’t like pancakes either. I like apple cinnamon jam on my waffles.”

Pidge giggled. “Weefles.”

“Woofles.” Lance laughed.

“Waffles.” Keith deadpanned.

“Waflees.” Pidge countered.

“Whuffles.” Lance added.

“Wahfles.”

“Whehfles.”

“Awwww, you guys were made for each other!” Hunk crooned, and reached into his hammock for his bandana.

“Don’t be so sappy, Hunk.” Keith quipped, a rare crack of a smile barely appearing.

“Keith! Was that a pun I heard?” Lance asked.

“No.” Keith was frowning again.

“Suuuuuuure.” Lance grinned and Pidge grinned back.

“Punch bug!” Pidge called, and threw a pillow across the RV at Romelle. It flew wildly off course and hit Hunk in the head.

“No fair!” Hunk threw it at Lance, who caught it and yeeted it at Keith. “Hot potato!” Keith blinked surprisedly, and threw it at Allura, who caught expertly and then launched it across the RV at Shiro. It hit the back of his head and the RV swerved wildly for a moment before Shiro regained his composure.

“Enough!” He ordered.

“Yeah guys,” Keith said with a completely straight face, “Pillow safety. Jeez.”

“I’ll have three chicken nugget happy meals,” Shiro said to the person behind the drive thru, “two quarter pounders with cheese, and three cheeseburger happy meals.”

“Don’t forget the chocolate milk!” Hunk yelled.

“Or the fries! Five orders!” Pidge added.

“I want my milkshake!” Keith reminded him.

“I thought you were lactose intolerant?” Allura asked, confused.

“Worth it.”

“And I’ll also have a chocolate milk, five orders of fries, and a milkshake for my lactose intolerant child who apparently wants to die.” Shiro added. The person behind the counter looked at him sympathetically.

“Your food will be ready in a few minutes, sir. Enjoy your meal.”

“Thanks, you too.” Shiro replied, and drove over to the next window.

Five hours left, Lance reminded himself. Just five hours.

Wow, I guess that was kind of short. I hope I satisfied your fluffy hearts and gave you some quality tired dad™ Shiro because honestly that’s what he is lol. On a separate note, talk to me! Is there anything in particular (like a particular headcannon?) that you have that you want me to include? There’s still plenty of time during the fic for me to include that stuff!

[umbureraakademi]

Introductory Note About the AU & Other Chapters

-a/n start-

[Potential spoilers for anyone who hasn’t seen or finished TUA Netflix series but seriously how could you stop yourself from watching such a captivating show.]

Word Count: 1549

Chapters have been updated with Face Claims like these nao 👀

-a/n end-

The Hargreeves Case

Chapter 3

Confused whether Monica looked genuinely shocked hearing Diego’s last name or if he was just imagining things, he gave her a curious look and said, “Yeah, Hargreeves. Is there something wrong?”

“Uhh…” Monica started before clearing her throat and trying to gain back her composure. “It’s just that… wow! Hargreeves… so you were one of those Umbrella kids, right?” she said as she gave a nervous laugh. “I was… a fan…” at this her tone sounded pained but she had hoped to convince Diego that was all there is to her shocked reaction.

Raising a disbelieving eyebrow, Diego responded with, “Really?”

“Yeah! Definitely, I watched you guys on the news all the time.” Monica continued rapidly. “Explains why you have all those knives on you. Guns were never your thing, huh?” she said in an attempt to change the topic.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I’m just suuper starstruck right now finding out you’re Diego Hargreeves - Hargreeves!” Monica knew her nerves were getting the better of her and she needed a way out of this situation fast, maybe if she didn’t repeat that last name so much she’d be less suspicious. “So Diego… Mexican name! El Chupacabra… you’re Mexican!” she mouthed off randomly, cursing herself for being shit under pressure.

Diego scoffed before saying, “I was raised here in New York for as long as I can remember and I don’t even know who the hell my birth mother is… I might be by birth but I wasn’t exactly raised by Mexican parents to know the language and culture so it won’t feel right calling myself one. Stop trying to change the subject by being stupid and weird.” 

“I’m changing the subject?! You’re changing the subject!” was Monica’s defensive response. “Plus, your name’s Diego and you’re brown-skinned… tanned… whatever is politically correct, so that makes you Mexican. Your birth mother is probably Mexican. Your whole birth family could be Mexican.” Monica said with finality. “I’m saying ‘Mexican’ too much it’s starting to sound racist…” she said under her breath before she noticed the coffee maker thankfully finished brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

“Oh, look! Coffee’s ready, gotta get some to the Captain quick before he chews me off again!” she said rushedly as she quickly filled up the Captain’s mug and left the pantry before Diego could call after her with a reminder.

“You forgot the milk!” he yelled but she was already gone, shrugging he proceeded to pour his own coffee when he noticed Monica racing back into the pantry. Like a gazelle running away from a cheetah she swiftly opened the refrigerator, took out the Captain’s milk and raced back out.

“Thanks for the reminder, mi amigo! Don’t get confused we’re not actually friends that’s just one of the very few Mexican terms I know!” she said rapidly as she rushed out.

Staring the the doorway in disbelief as she left, Diego shook his head. “Nope. Still not Mexican.”

After Work - Monica’s Apartment

Dragging her feet along the hallway to her apartment, Monica lamented on how ridiculously mundane it was to be the Commanding Officer’s assistant. She got the Captain coffee, took calls with people she could care less about but had to even for just a bit, sorted boring police files, did errands for the Captain… needless to say she hated her job.

The part she hated the most was that she was surrounded with the type of people she hated the most - cops. The fact that she discovered she was working in the same precinct as Diego Hargreeves only made it worse.

“Ugh! Fuck this shit!” she yelled to herself as she reached her apartment door. Heaving a heavy sigh she searched her bag for her keys but ended up not needing them as the door opened.

Standing before her may just be an angel, an angel with golden hair - still wet from taking a shower, captivating green eyes, a beautifully crafted face you’d think he came straight out of a fancy painting, and rock solid abs. The fact he only had a towel around his waist only made him even more tempting to jump at.

“Hard day at work?” he said with his smooth British accent and a sweet smile.

“Jesus Christ.” Monica muttered as she pushed her way inside, the angelic manmeat stepping aside to let her in. “Jessica! Your boyfriend’s parading around with just a towel on again! We talked about this!” she yelled to her best friend and roommate who was in the kitchen preparing a meal.

“Enjoy the view, darling!” she yelled back amusedly.

The hunky piece of man chuckled as he closed the door and made his way to the woman in the kitchen. Placing his hands on her waist and giving her a kiss on the cheek he said, “I’ll go get dressed, love. Don’t want to upset Maica even more than she already is.”

“Oh Ben, honey, Maica’s perfectly fine with it.” Jessica responded, batting her eyelashes at her man.

“No I’m not and you better be thankful I’m such a loyal best friend.” Monica said, overhearing their conversation as she plopped herself down on the couch and put her feet up on the coffee table.

Ben gave another chuckle as he planted another kiss on his girlfriend. “Be back in a bit.” he said before he walked off to the room he shared with Jessica. Passing by Monica on the couch he ruffled her hair and said, “Keep your feet off the coffee table, would you, darling?” he took his hand off quick enough to avoid being swatted by an annoyed Monica and made a run for the room.

“Seriously, you guys treat me like I’m your kid.” Monica complained, taking her feet off the table anyway as she stood up. “I’m gonna go change into something more comfy, when’s dinner ready?” she asked.

“And who’s acting like one, asking when dinner is ready and whatnot?” Jessica responded, giving her best friend a look. “5 minutes, go get changed first.” she said.

“Thanks, mom.” Monica responded with a laugh as she disappeared into her room.

Dinner

“The precinct is so full of shit!” Monica exclaimed over their dinner of Jessica’s specialty, spaghetti and meatballs.

“Whoa, language.” Jessica responded.

“But it’s true! Jessie, you should see it yourself. All the cops, shitty desk and computer, my uncle, stupid phone calls, stupid paperwork… cops!”

“You said ‘cops’ twice.”

“Because you know how much I hate them! I mean Uncle Gwilym being the Commanding Officer only makes it worse since he already told me off on the first day - now I actually have to ‘dress up’ for work.” Monica complained as she aggressively twirled some spaghetti on her fork.

“Hmm. Sounds tough.” Ben said, though not really interested as he slurped up some spaghetti.

“Ben.” Jessica said with a warning tone.

Swallowing down the spaghetti and patting some sauce hanging from his lip he held Jessie’s hand apologetically and said, “Sorry, love. You know your spaghetti’s my fave.” he said and winked.

“And there goes my panties.” was Jessica’s response.

“Umm… hello? Can you two stop being gross this one second and let me complain?” Monica interrupted.

“Sorry, Maica. Continue.” Jessica said after clearing her throat. Ben went back to eating his spaghetti.

“Anyway -- so yeah my uncle was being an ass and it didn’t help that Detective Dickhead saw everything.” Monica said before finally taking a bite off her dish, not noticing Jessica’s raised eyebrow.

“Detective who?” she asked.

“Detective Dickhead. I’m not supposed to call him that anymore but ugh, don’t get me started with him. He’s some douche with anger management issues, going around slamming doors and waking people up from their power naps. Sure he helped me with the coffee maker but he’s still some entitled dick who thinks he’s better than anyone just because he’s a fucking detective. Big whoop I solve cases and shit. Doesn’t mean you know everything.” Monica rambled while chowing down, though the not-so-pleasant yet excessive description of Detective Dickhead was enough for Jessica and Ben to exchange looks.

“Sounds like you hate the guy.” Ben said subtly.

“Is he hot? Single? Are you into him?” Jessica said more straightforwardly making Ben shake his head.

“And there goes being subtle…”

“What, why would I care?! Ew Jessie I literally said he was a dick.” Monica said disgustedly.

“Oh c’mon, Maica. Men in uniform are super appealing -- no offense to you, babe, you’re a total hottie.” Jessica said.

“None taken.” Ben responded.

“And… you could use a little dating after that last relationship you have. You know how hating each other at first gets you all worked up with all this inhibited sexual tension.” Jessica said dynamically, making faces as she went.

“Ew, okay you are getting way ahead of yourself, Jessie. I’d say I lost my appetite but that’s impossible with the way you cook.” Monica said with a grimace.

“Thank you, darling.” was Jessica’s proud response.

“But… he’s not the kind of guy I’d want to date… or be involved with for that matter.” Monica said, suddenly solemn as she poked at one of her meatballs.

“Why’s that?” Jessica said curiously.

Monica swallowed as she looked her best friend dead in the eye and said, “He’s a Hargreeves.”

[dunamanticarchivist]

The Munchkin Nein - Mollymawk Tealeaf

Explaining this series

A Mollymawk is a genus of albatross...i honestly have no idea what that means, I am not a taxonomist, I just know it’s something birdy. And I can read wikipedia to get a feel for what they are culturally. Something something sailors and mariners (maybe that explains why he rooms with Fjordy our resident shady sailor)

Anyway, we’re here for the crunch. And admittedly, this character is one of the reasons I got into thinking about this series to begin with, since there has been discussion about how ...well, unimpactful Mollymauk has been in fights. Going to lay out a couple of my thoughts before we actually get into the mechanics.

[Also, edited one day after the post, before M. Mercer decided to whoop dee doo, it’s time to put an end to the naysayers and give the poor Ghostslayer some buffs. And here I was defending Molly as he was; oh well, gonna update the crunch]

First off, if you’re going to compare each character’s output with one another, there can only be one eventual winner and that’s no damn good for anyone. If you compare the options taken as compared to those available, then you’re going to be critiquing on choices and once again, De gustibus non est disputandum, so I’m not gonna go there.

So let’s take a step back and see what Molly has thus far presented himself as and is, from what we can see. I think first and foremost, Mollymauk Tealeaf is a carnie, possibly influenced a great deal by Taliesin Jaffe our pyramidal fey lord and saviour ‘s extensive carnival experience. I will admit, I have never met a carnie, or know what they actually do or are. But from my internet gleaning and perusing (and Talks Machina thank you Brian Cabbage head), I’ve come to think of them as style over substance, highly extroverted and verbose individuals. Competence is optional. Laughter is not. Which really makes for an interesting character, in D&D or real life, I would love to meet a carnie and talk about the meaning of life with them while being as drunk as a sailor on shore leave.

Anyway, back to Mollymauk, there is actually a very recent post on reddit on his actual performance in combat that paints him in a better light, and the usual reddit discussion shenanigans. The one part of that that shifted my view decisively, is the realization that dual wielding is an aesthetic. Molly isn’t a fighter; he isn’t a master swordsman whose blades are an extension of himself nor does he have an instinctive feel for moving his blades in a fashion to cause harm. His scimitars are made out of cheap carnival glass for god’s sake; it's a miracle they haven’t shattered yet. I get a sense that those blades were mostly for show, until they had to be more than that. Still, that isn’t the comfort zone of Molly, who would rather talk and charm his way out of a situation. Which is reflected in his repeated use of Charm Person, Enthrall, and the infamous Vicious Mockery.

So in my opinion, the combat style of Mollymauk reflects his partially revealed backstory. He wants nothing to do with his potentially violent past and is all in on his solely carnival memories. If he could choose, I think he would be a pacifist.

Nonetheless, this is D&D where unless you are an Oath of Redemption paladin, pacifism is not going to be all that attractive since there are so many things that want your hide. So violence it's going to be. With that in mind, that doesn’t always mean you leave behind what you are, going into combat. I can write a whole other series on the human behind the soldier, but that’s for another time, so I’ll just leave this quote from LotR here

“I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”                                                                                   -Faramir, The Two Towers

Right so, proper crunch time. Level 5 Tiefling (Devil Tongue Variant), Blood Hunter Order of the Ghostslayer.

Armaments: 2 Scimitars that do 1d6 + 3 (DEX mod) apiece, due to the Two-Weapon fighting style. Two attacks with the main weapon, and using a bonus action, can attack with the second scimitar, giving three strikes tops.

As a bloodhunter, one of the ways to increase your damage output is crimson rites to imbue your weapons with magical damage. In Molly’s case, he has Rite of Dawn and Frozen, to add d4 radiant or cold damage respectively. He will gain an additional option at Level 6, that’s just more versatility, but more importantly the damage die increases to d6 (which on average is worth 1 point more). Having 3 damage types is not really versatile, but not completely one dimensional either. Each rite comes at the cost of 1d4 HP deducted from the maximum that only recovers when the rite is deactivated (he isnt healed by that  d4 when max HP returns)

At the moment however, this makes his scimitars 1d6 +1d4 + 3 if activated. As many have pointed out, it takes 1 bonus action to activate each scimitar and Molly only has 1 bonus action each turn. Also, striking with the second scimitar takes a bonus action. It doesn’t help that many of the blood curse options, one of which we do not yet know when Molly leveled to 5, takes up a bonus action as well.

Speaking of blood curses, the one we do know Molly has used is Blood Curse of the Eyeless, which has saved the asses of many of the Nein by inflicting disadvantage on one or two of the incoming attacks. Being a reaction with 60 feet range has contributed greatly to its usability.

Molly’s archetype of Ghostslayer is a situational benefit that contributes a WIS mod to damage undead creatures (+3), at level 11 this will affect all creatures, but for now, only undead creatures will feel this dual wielding sword swinger’s wrath.

[7/6/18 11pm GMT+1 update: Crimson Rite die is now d6 at level 5 bloodhunter, instead of the d4 mentioned above. Also, the Ghostslayer archetype halves the damage suffered when activating Rite of the Dawn. Considering the damage taken also increased, this is a welcome change (though compared to previously, on average, Molly suffers .75 damage less (rounded up to 1) per activation of Rite of the Dawn, though 1 damage more when using Rite of the Frozen. This downside would have happened anyway at Level 6, but now there’s at least a slight improvement. 

Also, as part of the update, Molly would have the option to switch out Blood Curse of the Eyeless. I suspect he would, based on more metagaming logic of a greater variety of playtesting. So might bring us up to 2 unknown blood curses. There are many many other fascinating options, and we might see them within 4 hours of this update]

A couple of things grant Molly some durability in combat. He took the Feat “Tough” which gives more HP when levelling, so at Level 5, he already has the highest HP total of the Nein. Also, his AC is listed as 15 which implies either studded leather or chain shirt. That’s probably on the lower end for the Nein, but sufficient for combat (i guess? depends on how hot Matt’s dice are). Finally, he purchased the Periapt of Wound Closure, which stabilizes him if he goes down. Also, when he rolls dice to regain HP, the results are doubled. (I’m unsure if it applies to healing done to him, or just healing he does on himself; if its the former I can already see the disaster tiefling combo come to life). 

Edit: I’ve asked around and it appears to be specific to interactions involving self healing with hit dice (d10s for Molly) such as healer’s kit and short rests. Still the point stands. 

Regardless, it allows Molly to function like a glass cannon, just like his swords. Yes he’d take hits, but he’ll return the favour, and the difference is that he won’t break, while the monster will eventually be shredded.

And we move onto the Tiefling part of Molly, which mechanically, has 3 spells. Vicious Mockery, Charm Person and Enthrall. All of them involve the target making a WIS save against Molly’s DC 11 [ 8 + 3 (proficiency) + 0(CHA mod)] and if succeeded, the spell does nothing (which has fuelled the perception that Molly hasn’t done much)

The first is a cantrip, while the latter 2 are level 2 spells that can only be cast once per long rest.

For vicious mockery, failing the WIS save causes the target to suffer 2d4 psychic DMG and suffer DISAD on its next attack roll, functioning as a second blood curse of the eyeless. Of note, this and Enthrall, are the only abilities of Molly at >30 to 60 feet ranges, unless he chooses to pick up a rock and throw it. Not very effective, but definitely worth a laugh.

For Charm Person, up to 2 humanoids can be affected. The WIS save is made with advantage if Molly or the Nein are fighting it (debatable if they are being attacked and not fighting back would negate this). Failing the WIS save imposes the “charmed” condition for one hour, unless the spell ends prematurely or they start harming the target. The charmed condition gives advantage to social interactions checks, which with Molly’s CHA mod of 0, would probably be very helpful. Also, for 1 hour, the target cannot attack Molly with weapons or harmful spells

Finally, Enthrall targets visible creatures of choice. The WIS save is made at advantage if in combat. Failing it gives the target disadvantage to WIS (perception) checks on any creature other than Molly for up to a minute. Once again, probably not a combat spell. But Taliesin did use it successfully against the alligators to distract them temporarily from Kiri, so who am I to judge?

The only thing I could think of for these two spells, is possibly to use them together. So while Molly, this colourful spray of bright clothes, tattoos and energy of a tiefling, charms and enthralls a high value target, the rest of the Nein slaughter their guards and entourage.

So there it is, Mollymauk Tealeaf, performer extraordinaire and occasional sword swinger! I personally think that if this is what Molly is, there could be advantages in going full carnie. Make use of that acrobatics proficiency to climb the head of a giant, wield a scimitar in your tail with that sleight of hand +6, hell juggle swords in combat to look threatening and maybe force a WIS save or two to take the heat off of others. The options are endless outside of the book rules and it is up to Taliesin Jaffe to play out this disaster of a tiefling. Hopefully, Matt is kind in these rulings, to reward good RP which is what everyone is here for.

Fortunately, Taliesin is a very experienced D&D player as demonstrated by his extensive knowledge of other character’s abilities (I think he, Matt and Liam together could probably recite half the rulebook and write out the other half by instinct). If I had to make one mechanical optimization choice, for the next ASI, take a +1 to DEX and +1 to CHA to round that score up and get that bonus. It’s also an upgrade without drastically altering the RP choices that can be made.

Thank you everyone who’s reading and liking this series! It’s almost thursday and I’m pretty excited about the next episode like I always am. Maybe even more so now I’ve got a blog. Might liveblog it idk it’s at like 3am in UK when it goes live so depends on my sloppy schedule.

[kellyinboston]

WHAT Wednesday

Well look who it is. It’s me. Kelly in Boston. I’m back…maybe. If I have time…

I wrote a long “post-baby” post…but I don’t think I saved it so whoops. It was a bit dated anyways so I will do an updated one don’t you worry.

I am back at work, started back in the office on Monday…it was definitely hard to leave Dominic, I may have shed some tears but he is in good hands. If I am being honest I was excited to go back to work. Not because I don’t love Dominic and I think of him ALL day, but I like my job and coworkers so back off!

Anywho…I am back in the swing of things, full steam ahead and busy per usual!

I thought I would ease my way back into blogging with my favorite – a WHAT Wednesday post and go from there.

WHAT have I been reading?

Remember when I said I think I can do 3 books a month once Dominic was born? Ha. That was wishful thinking. I am not sure of the last book I mentioned I was reading. But I have read 3 books since Dominic’s birth and if you can do 1st grade math that means one book a month. I have read two by Ann Patchett. A couple years ago I read Bel Canto by her and absolutely loved it so I wanted to read more of her work. So I read Commonwealth and State of Wonder. Definitely liked State of Wonder better (although the ending was a bit rough), Commonwealth I didn’t like as much (or not really at all…cannot remember). But Bel Canto was by far the best book of the three. I also read Everyone Brave is Forgiven by Chris Cleave. This took place during WWII, there are 3 main characters, two childhood friends, one goes to war and one doesn’t and then a girl who gets a job at a school during the war to teach “undesirable” kids. That was not a good way to describe it at all. But whatever. It was good. Not earth shattering or anything, but enjoyable enough. There are better WWII fiction books out there. I am now reading East of Eden by John Steinbeck. This type of book (classic) is not something I usually read but I have heard great things and it has been on my “to-read” list for a while so I decided why not! I am about 200 pages in (it is maybe 600 pages) and I am really enjoying it. I don’t think I will finish it by the end of the month so my hot streak of 1 book per month may end this month!

WHAT are we watching?

Well during my maternity leave I would watch Good Morning America and Live with Kelly and Ryan and then sometimes The Chew (funny cooking show). As for shows on Netflix and Amazon Prime…let’s see here:

·         I watch maybe 4 seasons of Suits (13 episodes a season…I liked it but then it got kinda old so I stopped)

·         The first season of Riverdale and some of the 2nd season, but 2nd season was silly so stopped watching it

·         Finished watching Breaking Bad (for like the 4th time)

·         Season 3 of Better Call Saul – watch this with Neil, we really like the show

·         The 2nd to last season of The Americans (good)

·         The Good Wife (I have watched it before, more just background noise, but I like it)

·         Riding in Cars with Comedians getting Coffee (not sure if that is the right name…but it’s with Jerry Seinfeld, watch maybe a dozen episodes, they are 15/20 minutes long, pretty funny)

·         Sons of Anarchy (the whole series, we have 2 episodes left, it is super violent and I have missed a decent amount of episodes, Neil will watch it and I will when I am around…too violent honestly)

Phew. I may be missing some! I know it seems like a lot of TV, but the last three or four weeks I haven’t watch much of anything because Dominic is paying attention to the TV now…so no more TV while he is awake.

WHAT is going on with the family?

Well this is a post by itself!! But a quick and dirty rundown. Family is good, Dominic is good (growing and becoming cuter by the day), Snoop is good (loves her little brother), I am good. I will give you a more detailed update in another post, but my little family is good! We sleep up in the loft space with Dominic’s pack and play and it makes my heart happy when Snoop comes up and sleeps at the top of the stairs because all of my family is together. She usually sleeps downstairs on the hardwood floor because it is cooler but she will come up occasionally and I love it!

WHAT else is going on?

Well a whole lot to be honest. The next few months are going to be busy, a lot of changes going on that I want to share with you…at another time!

My sister and Andy got another dog! A girl puppy named Lucia. So stinking cute!

Neil’s last day of work is this Friday...but next week the real work begins – stay at home dad!

I am tired all the time…I wake up tired. Ha. But is a functional tired, well at least I think I am functioning

I “pump and shop” – this has become a problem. So I downloaded the Tetris app on my phone so now I play Tetris and only shop a little. I swear we get at least one amazon box a day.

Thanks for reading! 

[crepeycrepeyspacewizard]

#15 "I made your favourite." Authors choice of AU

[I wrote this a while ago but didn’t post it, so here it is for Father’s Day. Trigger warnings in the tags if you don’t want be surprised.] 

“I made your favourite!”

The way he’d said it over the phone Hux had been expecting to come home to some culinary extravaganza, or more likely a kitchen-based disaster, but Kylo had in fact made his favourite.

If anyone had ever asked Hux his favourite food he would probably have said some fancy multi-stage curry or a sticky indulgent pudding, but that would have been a lie. He’d have said anything to save face rather admit his love for such a plain meal as this. But it was his favourite.

Cheap white bread, lashing of margarine (not butter), horseradish, roast beef, and more horseradish. There was something about the texture between his teeth- the soft bread, the slick spread, the crunch of the meat. He could eat it forever. Which seemed to be Kylo’s intention since he’d made four rounds and had a bowl of his own unpleasant protein salad in front of himself. How he expected Hux to eat so much he didn’t say. Strange.

Hux honestly didn’t remember ever telling Kylo about his inordinate love for this particular sandwich but apparently the man knew him well enough to realise it. That made Hux’ heart warm. Or perhaps that was just the heartburn that had been plaguing him all week.

“Thank you.”

Kylo hummed but made no response, he just watched Hux closely over his spoon as he shovelled boiled egg and chicken into his face. 

It was an effort of will not to sneer at his husband’s tastes but Hux managed to keep his face neutral- Kylo did deserve a reward for his kind efforts after all. Even if he had been stingy on the horseradish. Still, he’d left the pot out on the table, so surely he wouldn’t object to Hux fixing the sandwich by adding more?

There must have been something wrong with the horseradish. Perhaps the jar was passed it’s date, or it had sat in the fridge too long. The sauce really wasn’t hot enough. It took four reapplications to produce a sandwich that was precisely to his liking, and the thing looked abominable- more sauce than anything else.

Kylo just watched him trying to eat it, smiling slightly as Hux awkwardly licked sauce off fingers, palms and even his wrist once while it repeatedly fell apart. The second sandwich he ‘fixed’ by alternating between bites of sandwich and spoonfuls of sauce. It was a little embarrassing but the combination tasted so good that by the third sandwich Hux had forgotten to blush and was eating with a quick and easy gusto. He didn’t even notice when he picked up the fourth and so he found himself reaching for an empty plate. 

“Oh.”

“Hungry?”

“I didn’t think so but apparently, yeah.” Hux laughed. “I’ve had hardly any appetite this month, I guess I needed to catch up!”

Kylo grinned at him. “Nausea?”

“What?” What a strange question to be asking out of nowhere. “No. I’ve just not felt like it. Bit of heartburn I guess. I think it’s just the changing weather.”

Across the table Kylo made a weird face, a mix of amused and disbelieving, but he didn’t say anything else on the subject.

“Why don’t you get a bath while I load the dishwasher?” He asked instead. “Then movie night?”

Hux didn’t entirely trust that face. He hoped Kylo wasn’t up to something, like the first time they’d planned a quiet movie night and Hux had come out of the bathroom in a towel to find the living room full of people.

“Okay… But just us, yeah?”

Kylo laughed and offered a pinky finger to seal the deal.

Closing the bathroom door Hux wriggled out of his binder with a groan. He should have taken it off as soon as he got in the house. He usually did but he’d been ridiculously overwhelmed by the food on offer.

Urgh. He really did need a bath now. He never used to get this sweaty during the day, but then his figure had taken a strange turn recently. He’d always been lucky to have an almost nonexistent chest, so the binder was more for a smooth line under his suit, but it was getting uncomfortably tight.

Hux had always been content with his body. He preferred a masculine presentation but he’d never really considered making any changes beyond his outward appearance. He was tall, his frame was too thin but pleasantly angular, he was blessed with a deep enough voice that he’d passed as a boy long before he realised it was an option. Now he was Armitage Hux, happily married engineer, and only he and his husband needed to know he was nonbinary. He wasn’t in the closet about it, it just wasn’t anyone else’s business.

Kylo loved him the way he was. He loved his body and the way it fitted together with Kylo’s. They were fantastic together, even if Hux’ chest was getting a bit fat from too many long days in the office and not enough exercise.

Something niggled at his thoughts then, like the uncomfortable idea that he’d forgotten an important appointment, but he dismissed it.

The water was cool and wonderfully soothing on his sore shoulders as he sank down into the bath. Thank fuck they’d bought a house with a six foot tub. It was like a swimming pool but it made washing his hair easier.

His head was submerged when he heard his phone bleep. He didn’t recognise the tone. Water streamed off his hair when he sat up to poke the screen as carefully as he could without getting it wet.

It was his period tracker bitching that he hadn’t updated it in three months. Which was bullshit. His last period hadn’t been that long ago. It had almost ruined Kylo’s birthday weekend, which had been…

Well, shit.

Three months ago.

Hux lay back in the bath and stared at the ceiling. It felt like there was a flashing neon sign above his head that read ‘idiot’.

His chest was swollen and aching.

He had near constant heartburn.

He’d just eaten the best part of a jar of horseradish.

He hadn’t had a period in three months.

Kylo had asked if he was nauseous, and he wasn’t but that had been the symptom he’d always been told to expect, if he was…

The word wouldn’t form in his mind.

 They’d talked about it. Hell, they’d more than talked about it, they deliberately ditched the condoms to try to get…

Nope, the word still refused to form in his brain. 

There were tests under the sink. Kylo had bought them after they’d first talked about it. Hux had never used one. He’d never had unprotected sex with anyone else. He’d seen plenty of movies though. People peed on sticks then sat around worrying for two minutes. It didn’t seem hard.

Hux felt ridiculous, sitting on the loo, still dripping bath water, but now that he suspected he just had to know immediately.

He read the booklet because the best engineers always do, but there really wasn’t any way to make ‘piss on stick, wait, look at window’ any clearer. It did warn that a morning test would be more accurate, but he didn’t think he could survive waiting that long.

It turned out the ‘wait’ part was unnecessary. The instructions advised to watch the liquid soak into the stick so Hux saw as the two lines appeared instantly. No ambiguous result there. Just two solid bright red lines. He glanced at the instructions again anyway, just to be certain.

Line C- Not pregnant.

Line T- faulty.

Line C & T- pregnant.

He held the test against the paper, to be doubly, triply, extra certain.

Two lines.

He felt like he was in some kind of dream. He’d even got his boxers half way up his legs before he realised he hadn’t towelled off.

Kylo was laid out on the couch with a beer in each hand when Hux finally got it together enough to leave the bathroom.

While he was dressing he’d debated how to tell Kylo, since it didn’t seem like it was going to be a surprise to him, and there was no real question whether it was something they both wanted. They were trying to get pregnant. But it still felt like a massive thing to get out of his mouth.

But when Kylo raised his feet to let Hux sit down and offered him a beer it was suddenly the easiest thing in the world to say, “thanks, but it’s not good for the baby.”

Kylo grinned, wide and bright as the sun, and showed him the front of the bottle. ‘Alcohol-free’.

“How long have you known?” Hux asked, a little peevishly as he accepted it.

“I got suspicious two weeks ago. You know, when you ate that cream and mango curry without complaining. You hate cream curries and you hate fruit, but you ‘simply had to have it’.” Kylo said, affectionately rubbing Hux’ thigh with his heel. “I thought you knew and you’d tell me when you were ready, I had no idea you didn’t know.”

“I thought I’d get sick. Isn’t that always the narrative? Early morning head in the toilet, whoops, better take a test?”

Kylo shrugged. “Not everyone gets sick, but I bet the people who don’t don’t go bragging about it. Would you wanna tell hormonal people that you’d avoided their misery? It’s like period pains I guess- people think that everyone gets them cos the smug people get punched into silence.”

“I punched you one time!”

“Right in the eye!”

“You should have knocked!”

“You should have locked the door!”

“That lock had been broken for five months and you know it.”

Kylo laughed. “True. But if I hadn’t bought you dinner to make up for walking in on you, and you hadn’t bought me dinner to make up for brutally punching me in the head…”

“Hey!”

“Then we wouldn’t be sitting here right now, would we? You and me, and our baby.” His voice cracked on the last word, but Kylo manfully covered it with a gulp of beer.

Hux smiled to himself. It was a nice thought. “I dunno, I’d been planning to ask you out for a while, I just didn���t know how you’d react to, well, me.”

“A valid concern, but you really didn’t have to flash me and then PUNCH ME IN THE…” Kylo was silenced by a pillow to the face followed by an irritated kiss.

“Shut up. Arguing isn’t good for the baby. And I did not flash you.”

“You always have to have the last word don’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

100 Ways To Say I Love You Prompts

[7fics]

Markson friendship jackjae Romance. Jackson doesn't really know YJ but he knows he's kinda weird but still kinda cute and he sits next to Jackson in science so Jackson texts Mark and says "the Youngjae kid is cute tbh" and Mark being a dick takes a screenshot of their messages and sends it to Youngjae, who is still sitting next to Jackson.

Warnings: mark pov lol

Word Count: 2.5k ish

Author: Chewy’s back! and graduating high school oh my god

managed to sneak some markbum in there lol whoops hope ya enjojojoiiiii

grades: JB: senior Jinyoung: senior (skipped a grade) Jackson: junior Mark: junior (redoing a grade) Youngjae: sophomore Yugyeom/bambam: freshmen

“Bro, you hype? First day of school jitters? Whatchu gonna eat for breakfast?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jackson, why are you calling me at 6 in the morning,” Mark groans. It’s too early for this shit. It’s always too early for Jackson’s shit, but “That’s just the impact of the Wang” or so “the Wang” says.

“It’s the first day of school! You should be up and getting ready, don’t you want to start off the school year refreshed and excited?” Mark can practically hear Jackson jumping up and down through the phone. Oh, wait, is that the sound of springs squeaking? Then never mind, Mark can legitimately hear Jackson jumping up and down.

“More like dead tired. School doesn’t start until nine.”

“Whatever. Have you looked at your schedule yet? Did you see what classes you had? Do we share any classes?” Jackson’s talking non-stop, and from the sound of it he’s also trying to chew his breakfast at the same time. Mark’s not really into that ASMR shit.

“I already sent you a screenshot last night, keep up,” he responds, groaning as he finally crawls out of bed. With Jackson this hyped up, he knows there’s no chance of falling back asleep so he might as well get ready. “We have a few classes together, I think. Check again?”

“Oh, right!” there’s a pause as Jackson scrambles to his laptop, and Mark thanks the gods above for the short moment of blessed silence. “We have the same lunch period! And Humanities and Numbers for Nerds, thank goodness. You’re going to need to tutor me again.”

“No.” Not until you stop calling “math” “Numbers for Nerds,” Mark thinks. It’s too early to voice opinions, though, so he keeps that to himself.

“And Euro, yass, this is nearly fully booked Markson, get pumped! But wait, aw man, no science together. Why would you ever take Physics? And it’s first in the morning, too!” Jackson continues.

“God bless,” Mark’s not sure if he would have been able to handle Jackson so early every morning. Especially not after the copper incident last year. “Now I’m hanging up, gotta shower. See you at school.”

“Bye~~~ Markie pooh,” Jackson calls, but by then, Mark’s already ended the call.

—

“Jaebum, please,” Mark says the minute he enters the Physics classroom that morning. “Save me.”

“Babe, what’s wrong? It’s only the first day of school,” Jaebum grumbles, barely lifting his head from his desk to greet Mark.

“Exactly. However,” Mark says, handing his phone over to Jaebum. “Some asshole thinks that I should care about his choice in sock color today.” There are somewhere around, oh, just about hundreds of new text messages, voicemails and snapchats from Jackson, updating Mark on the every second of his first day of school prep. And that’s just the preparation; the school day hasn’t even started damn it.

“Aw, yikes. I got a picture of a flowchart of first day of school possibilities from Jinyoung last night. And then earlier this morning he sent me a selfie of himself setting the same flowchart on fire, so I’m not sure what that means.”

“Seriously? It’s only the first day of school why is he stressing like it’s finals week again,” Mark groans as he lays his head on the desk. Jaebum only pats him on the back and gives a shrug in response, and Mark is eternally grateful. He decides that now is a great moment (and the only moment) to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet before the madness called “High School” and “Being Wang Jackson’s One and Only BFFL For Life” (“Jackson you repeated for life” “Shhhh”) begins.

Moments later, the beautiful calm is shattered by the sound of Kara blasting through the air. “The fuck Jackson, we’re in class,” Mark says, opting to hit decline. Jackson apparently doesn’t get the message, however, and Mark’s phone spends the rest of class buzzing violently in his backpack.

Mark of course dutifully ignores everything. (At one point, a girl in front of him freaks out because she’s sure there’s a swarm of bees in the classroom. It’s just Jackson, though.)

—

“Hey.” Mark takes his lunch tray, which is literally piled to the sky with only french fries, and slides into the bench between Jackson and Jaebum. He looks down the table and nods at the kid at the end of the table. “‘Sup?” They’re not friends, but the kid sells some fine “herbs” if you know what I’m saying. Imported. From Thailand.

Mark doesn’t drink coffee. He drinks tea. And he’s ready to beat anyone (meaning Jinyoung) who mocks him for it. It’s not like he fucking reads books like some nerds (meaning Jinyoung).

“Hey, Mork, what’s up?”

“Can you not.”

“Nope! Those are a lot of fries buddy, I’m really kind of worried about your health, you know?” Jackson says, reaching over to grab a handful.

“I hope you choke.”

Jackson doesn’t choke, but he does snort and get some caught in his nostril. While Jackson is whining and screaming for help, Mark turns to Jaebum, “Hey.”

“Hey babe,” Jaebum responds. He also takes a french fry, but actually manages to look pretty sexy eating it, so Mark will opt to forgive him this one time.

“Do you think you can get senioritis when you’re a Junior?” Mark asks, shoving the plate of fries to the side so that he can lay his head on the table. And then push the fries directly into his mouth without actually lifting anything.

“Dude. It’s been three days since we got back from summer break,” Jaebum gives him a look, although really, he has no right to judge.

“I didn’t do any of my summer Humanities assignments, so I already have a zero.” Ok, so maybe Jaebum does have some right to judge. But only a little.

“Holy fuck YOU GUYS!” Jackson screams, and then immediately makes a shushing noise, “Shhh! I can’t let him notice me!”

“Jackson. You are the loudest one in this group right now.”

“Ah, sorry, I forgot. But look!” Jackson whisper shouts, vaguely gesturing toward some corner of the cafeteria. “Look at that!”

Mark squints, but isn’t really sure what Jackson’s freaking out over. He doesn’t see any signs for free pizza, or anything remotely worth getting hyped up over.

“That kid! Over there!” Jackson’s voice is steadily rising, but they’re in the middle of a public school cafeteria so Mark decides to not give any fucks for now. “The one that looks absolutely beautiful and basically is probably the Sun on the Teletubbies but all grown up! He’s in my Bio class and I swear you guys, I am in love.”

“Oh hey, that’s Youngjae,” Jaebum remarks.

Hmmm, Youngjae. Mark’s sure he’s heard that name somewhere.

“Remember? He’s the really loud tenor in my choir class. Tried to bring his dog to school last year.”

“Oh yeah. Coco. He’s my neighbor.”

“You know him?” Jackson gasps. He crawls over Mark and grabs Jaebum by the collars. “Please. Tell me more. I must know.”

And so the rest of lunch continues just like any other day, with Mark trying to ignore Jackson and continue eating french fries. It’s a hard task, but nothing that Mark can’t handle.

—

Another week of dozing through classes has passed in a blissful blur, and Mark settles into Physics, pulling out his notebook. He’s just trying to decide whether he should use the book as a pillow or what it’s actually meant for when his phone goes berserk again.

from: wangster

holy sheet mark

do u remember that incredibly cute ball of sunshine underclassman I was talking about

the one that probably farts pixie dust

and is CuTE as bALLS???

YOUNGJAEEEEE god kill me now even his name is lovely

he just got assigned to the same lab group as me

ME

the fuq is this, a fucking rom com??? i M SO READY to NOT embarrass myself infant of this kid

**in front ha fuck u 2 autocorrect

“What is that?” Jinyoung asks, peering over Marks shoulder.

“It’s just Jackson, talking about his new crush. I’m just gonna ignore it,” Mark concludes, setting it on vibrate and then tossing it to the corner of his desk.

“He just texted you again,” Jinyoung says, picking up the phone. “What does he mean by ‘THE THING’?”

“Shit, give me that,” Mark says, suddenly alert and scrambling for the phone.

from: wangster

do you think he’d think i was cool if i did THE THING again?

Mark furiously types.

from: mark

NO!

DO NOT. DRINK. THE COPPER. SOLUTION.

It takes a minute for the reply to come back.

from: wangster

aw cmon man, it wasn’t that bad

and don pretend like u didn’t take a taste too, i’m not the only criminal here

anyway i wasn’t talking about that

like

what if i “accidentally” spilled a chemical on my hot bod

and then i have to rip off my shirt and show off my sexy abs ;)

Mark groans and lays his head upon the desk. “Help. I think I have a migraine coming on.”

“What’s wrong?” Jaebum asks, sliding into his seat with 34 seconds to spare. Mark just holds up his phone in response. Jaebum sighs and formulates a response in Mark’s stead.

from: mark

your abs won’t be sexy anymore with a god damn acid burn on them. don’t do that shit. —JB

Before Jaebum can hand the phone back to Mark, Jinyoung snags it out of his hands. “Oh boy,” he giggles. “This is gold. Do you mind if I screenshot this and airdrop it to myself? Just for when I’m sad, I promise.”

“Go ahead,” Mark waves him on. At this point, he doesn’t think Jackson has any dignity left to muster up. “Just don’t accidentally send it to Youngjae or anything.”

There is a beat of silence, as three pairs of eyes meet. Then they all break, chuckling to themselves. Mark wheezes a little. “Nah, I wouldn’t. I’m not that kind of friend.”

There’s another moment of silence, as Jinyoung takes one long look at the messages, and then back up at Mark, then Jaebum, then back at Mark. “Aren’t you?”

“I mean, we’re best friends, come on,” Mark says. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly sweating in this freezing air conditioned classroom. “Right. Best friends. Who forgive each other no matter what,” Jaebum muses, half to himself. They meet eyes, and then break. Nervous laughter fills the air around them.

“Nah, nah, nah. We’re cool,” Mark says, taking back the phone and going to delete the screenshots. But, Jinyoung is right. This is kind of gold. “Maybe I’ll just start a message to Youngjae, but not actually send it, just to freak Jackson out.”

“Oh yeah!” Jinyoung agrees, aggressively nodding. “Take a screenshot of you you pretending to send those to Youngjae. Jackson would die. And it’s good revenge for him stealing my last twizzler.”

“Alright, I’m doing it,” Mark says. They’re all three cackling at the message, Mark’s hand hovering over the phone, when the teacher walks in and slams the door shut. Hard.

All three students jump in their chairs simultaneously. “Put you phone away!” he demands, and Mark sheepishly pulls his phone off his desk, but not before seeing what’s on the screen.

“Oh shit,” he looks up at Jaebum, wide-eyed.

“You hit send, didn’t you?”

—

Three hours later, Mark finds himself on the floor of the cafeteria, groveling at Jackson’s feet. “It was an accident, I swear, you know I would never do that to you. I would never even think of doing that to you!”

“How. The fuck. Do you accidentally send screenshots of my text messages to the guy who just happens to be the subject of my messages?” Jackson asks. His eyebrows are halfway up his face at this point.

“Ok, fine,” Mark concedes, “Maybe I did think of doing that to you. But I swear I only thought! I never actually meant to hit send. Tell him, Jinyoung!”

Jackson’s menacing eyebrows swivel to face Jinyoung, who currently has his nose buried in a book, with only his ears peeking out. No matter how much of a bookworm everybody says he is, no books are that interesting. “Well?” Jackson asks, leg shaking the table.

“Uhh… It was Mark’s idea!” then he slams his book shut and bolts.

Mark gasps, “That bastard.”

Jackson grabs at Mark’s collar, and as Mark flails, he looks over to Jaebum in an attempt at one last plea for help. Jaebum just raises his eyebrows, and scoots his tray further away down the table.

Just as Mark resigns himself to his fate, he is saved by the bell. More specifically, his text alert, which is actually a four second clip of a recording of Jackson screaming for five minutes straight. Everybody in the whole cafeteria looks over at them, including Youngjae (an important detail for Jackson) and the security guards and other adult staff (an important detail for Mark). “Dude get off of me before we get in trouble,” Mark whispers. Jackson only complies because Youngjae is looking and he can bet 99.999% that Youngjae probably hates violence and sings about flowers growing as a past time.

“Ugh, whatever, I’m still mad. You better buy me chocolate milk for the rest of the school year.”

“What are you, Kim Yugyeom?” Mark scoffs, but knows that he probably will, even if only for a few weeks instead of the whole school year. Anything to get his friend back. Even so, he slaps Jackson’s hands away as they drift toward his tray of fries. While battling Jackson over his lunch with his left hand, Mark unlocks his phone with his left (unnecessary AN: this was supposed to say right, but I was totally zoned out when typing this, and, my dudes, it is so wicked funny to imagine Mark with two left hands). “Oh my god, Jackson!”

“What now?” Jackson grumbles, slipping through Mark’s defenses and filching a fry or two or three or twelve.

“Jackson, look,” Mark gasps breathlessly, handing his phone over to Jackson.

“Holy fuck.”

Right there, on the screen (surrounded by way too many emojis and stickers) are the following words:

from: c youngjae

aww, can you tell jackson hyung thank you for the compliments

and also that i don’t want him hurting himself!! i’m sure he looks better shirtless on the basketball courts than in a science lab *winky face blushing emoji*

oh! also mark hyung, my family is going out of town for labor day, can you watch coco? thanks!

Mark grins, looking up at Jackson’s shining face. “Am I the best wingman ever or what?”

“Yes!” Jackson shouts, drawing looks once again. “But you still owe me chocolate milk for the stress that you put me through for this past hour.”

“Yo, lunch period isn’t even an hour long.”

[tarisilmarwen]

Cracks In The Mirror: Endure

(Welp, with the sudden spate of reblogs on Chapter One I just realized I’d forgotten to crosspost Chapter Two and Chapter Three, whoops.  My bad.

There are depictions of torture in this chapter so the squeamish should use caution and discretion.  It’s not explicit, just potentially upsetting.

Once again, also on FFnet here.)

— 

Everything was a haze of pain.

Ezra didn't know how long they'd tortured him. His sense of time was distorted, his mind fogged from the shocks and the myriad drugs and serums they had flooded him with. He was barely conscious of what was happening around him. He would be writhing in pain, then given a brief rest, three times in a regular repeating cycle. Then the pain would stop and voices would ask him questions. He muttered, but he didn't really know what he was saying. Evidently it was never what his tormentors wanted to hear, for the pain would start again, worse and worse each time.

He couldn't tell if they were increasing the intensity of the shocks or if the drugs were just increasing his sensitivity. Every time his head started to clear, every time he felt a little more lucid, they injected him again and plunged him back into the drugged haze.

The only thing that cut through it was the agony.

He'd tried to reach out to the Force, wrap it around him for some measure of relief. But he couldn't focus; the Force slipped away from his grasping fingers. There was no respite for him, no shelter from the blinding, stabbing pain they assaulted him with.

About two cycles ago they'd added something new to the drug cocktail, something that burned his insides even through his rest periods. Ezra whimpered softly as he felt it like slow-moving lava through his veins.

A female voice was speaking. Fingers prodded at him, trying to get his attention.

He didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't have the energy. His vision was just a blur anyways.

The fingers gently brushed his cheek.

Unconsciously, he tilted his head into the gesture.

"He... ra...?" he rasped. His throat was cracked and sore, his voice weak from screaming.

"That's right, dear," the voice cooed, soothingly. "I need your help."

Okay...?

"Where does Fulcrum transmit from? I need you to tell me."

Transmit?

"N... no..."

"His life is in danger. You need to tell me."

Ezra shook his head. "Y're not Hera..." he slurred. Hera wasn't here. Hera would already know, if anyone did.

"Of course I am," the voice reassured him. "Don't you want to help Fulcrum?"

"Not Hera..." Ezra repeated, his head still shaking. "Go 'way."

"Tell me what I want to know."

Ezra tuned the voice out, going still, slackening, trying to sink into oblivion to escape her questions and the constant burning through his limbs. With how drowsy he was from the sedatives already, it was easy to let his mind go blank, let his consciousness slowly fade into—

Something struck him hard across his face. Ezra yelped, startling back into awareness. His lolling eyes fixed on the blur that was Pryce's face, trying to focus.

She didn't look happy.

"You'll sleep when we're finished," she growled. She grabbed his face in her hand, her nails digging into his skin. "You can end all of this," she told him. "Tell me what I want to know, and it all stops."

Force, he was really beginning to hate her.

Ezra hardened his eyes, his fists clenching. "'ll die firs'," he said.

She stared him down a moment, scowling. Then she stepped back with a haughty sniff.

"Very well." She nodded at the technician. "Begin another round."

Ezra held back a moan of despair as the electrodes charged again.

He didn't know how much longer he could hold out.

***

"Something's wrong," Kanan said, fidgeting, tapping the console. "We should have heard something from him by now."

"Take it easy, Kanan," Rex told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Chopper'll update us on the situation as soon as he's able."

The words didn't reassure him. Kanan had been agitated since Chopper had first reported in, and the echoes he could sense in the Force only added to his worry.

He'd had some reservations about the mission from the beginning. A light cruiser was no Imperial Academy, and going in as a prisoner was considerably more risky than going as someone who belonged there. Ezra hadn't liked it much either. But it had been a simple enough plan at first. Get in, extract Kallus, get out. Thrawn showing up was more than a little panic-inducing. This was the second time the man had turned up exactly when and where the Rebels were planning to move and Kanan was beginning to wonder if the tentative trust they'd placed in Kallus had been a mistake.

His ears pricked up at the click that said a transmission was incoming.

"Speak o' the old clanker..." Rex commented. Kanan sensed him shift forward, heard him open the channel. "What's happening, Chopper? Has Kallus got Ezra yet?"

Chopper sounded as anxious as Kanan felt as he relayed his message.

"The brig?" Rex repeated in surprise. "They found him out?"

Kanan felt no satisfaction from knowing he was right to worry.

There was a creak as Rex leaned back again. "Well, that's a problem," he said.

That's an understatement, Kanan thought.

"Now what?"

The Jedi exhaled heavily. "I'm not sure," he said. "Give me a minute."

He closed his eyes—not that it made a difference but old habits died hard—and tuned in to the Force. The echoes at once became clear, the burning ripples of distress from his padawan beaming to him strongly through their bond.

It must have shown on his face, for Rex asked in concern, "Kanan? What is it?"

He inhaled slowly, opening his eyes and coming out of the Force. "Ezra's in pain." Kanan turned toward the dashboard. "Chopper, we need those clearance codes. We're coming to get you."

"WUB WUB-WUB WUUB—"

"I know what Kallus said!" Kanan snapped. "Just get the codes so we can get Ezra out of there!"

"Kanan..." Rex called. He heard the stoic warning in the old Clone Trooper's voice, the quiet defeat. "They'll be expecting us."

Harsh words almost slipped from him, but Kanan bit his lip and clamped them down. He hated to admit it. Rex was right.

"I know," he blurted. "I just..."

Swiveling in the pilot's chair , Kanan stood, feeling his way towards the door. He couldn't just sit still. He needed to feel like he was doing something.

"See if you can contact Ryder," he instructed. "Maybe he can do something from the ground. I need to talk to Hera." He paused at the doorway, one hand on the frame. He sighed, turning back towards the cockpit. "Chopper, you and AP-5 do what you can. But if we don't hear from you in two hours we are going to come get you, and you'd better have those clearance codes when we do." He turned his head toward Rex. "That should give us enough time to come up with something, right?"

"Let's hope so," Rex just replied, flicking buttons on the dash to call up Ryder Azadi.

***

Chopper unplugged from the communications terminal with an aggravated sigh and relayed Kanan's instructions to AP-5.

"Do what we can. That's not very specific," the inventory droid said. "Have you any ideas?"

The astromech rolled back from the wall, chirping out a suggestion.

"Infiltrate the security system?" He mused on the idea a moment. "Yes, that could work. If we could get into the system we could gain access to the security cameras and at least be able to see where they are keeping Bridger and Agent Kallus."

Chopper grunted in enthusiasm, already starting to roll out.

"Hold on a moment, you're not going to be careless about this like you were when you first contacted the retrieval team are you?" AP-5 asked sharply, following behind him. He had already made the C1 unit change terminals twice, and scramble the codes they were using to contact the shuttle. Broadcasting Rebel transmissions from an Imperial starship once was foolish, more than that was ludicrously illogical.

Chopper replied with a surly string of grumbles.

"It was careless, plugging in to the first available port on an unknown vessel could have compromised the entire mission!" AP-5 argued hotly. "You're lucky I am around to guide you."

The astromech huffed. "WUB WUB. WUB WEB WUB."

"It's this way," AP-5 said, pointing. "We must be cautious." The droid glanced around the hallway as if searching for unwanted listeners. "We don't want anyone to know we're here."

For once, Chopper had no grouchy remark to reply back with, only giving an anxious hum to agree.

The droids fell silent, and so became invisible to the crew of the Chimera.

***

Hurt. It all hurt.

Pain. Fog. Burning. Always burning. Cold trickles through his veins. The drugs again. More drugs. Needle pricks. They stabbed him in his neck, his arms, his stomach.

Itching. Why was he itching?

It was hard to breathe. His lungs were struggling.

What were they doing to him?

The voices blended. He couldn't tell one from the other. He thought Pryce might've hit him again a few times but he wasn't sure. It was so hard to think.

He missed Hera. And Kanan and... everyone.

Harsh coughing racked his frame. His chest felt like it was squeezing him.

Sharp pain, prolonged, like hot metal through his limbs. That was the electrodes. The feeling vanished, leaving his limbs twitching.

Nerves on fire. Thin metal cutting him. Scalpels? Maybe.

Wouldn't be surprised if they were trying to bleed the answers out of him.

The voices were yelling again. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? He just wanted to sleep.

So tired... Kanan...

Where was Kanan anyway?

"C'ming for me..." he heard himself mutter.

His heart was still jolting and it hurt. He just wanted to curl up but he was so numb and he couldn't move.

What was Pryce trying to ask him now? Force, he didn't even care. She was making his ears ring. He gathered as much moisture from his dry, parched mouth as he could. From the sharp copper taste it was probably actually mostly blood. Whatever. He spat it out.

An indignant squawk cracked his hearing. Sounded like he'd hit her in the face.

Good.

Hope she choked on it.

Oh but now there were pincers squeezing his face, crushing his jaw in an iron-hard grip, and he regretted everything.

The Force... I need...

His mind reached out, weakly. Don't grab for it too hard, Kanan had taught him. Let it come to you. Let it flow into you. Be at peace.

The edges of his consciousness turned warm.

***

Thrawn stared down through the window, frowning darkly. The technicians were putting away their tools, stacking the empty syringes on the tray. Ezra Bridger had had about as much as he could take for now. He was insensate, and no longer coherent enough to give any reply to their interrogation.

And he had defiantly given up... nothing.

The door hissed and Pryce stepped into the room, wiping off her gloves with a sour look.

"Stubborn little whelp," she grumbled. She scratched furiously at a smear on her cheek.

Stirring, the Grand Admiral turned from the window to face her. "The boy's resistance is... impressive," Thrawn admitted, begrudgingly. He paced towards the opposite wall, distracted, already considering their next course of action. "We will resume our session after the next rotation," he said. They had pushed Bridger to the edge of his endurance. Likely the boy would break after another intensive round. For now, though, continuing would be futile; there were no answers to be gleaned from an unconscious body. "In the meantime," he told Governor Pryce, changing the subject, "we should turn our attentions to the matter of Fulcrum."

"Our rebel spy." Pryce put away her handcloth and clasped her hands behind her. "Do you think Agent Kallus will talk?" she asked.

"ISB would have trained him to resist interrogation," Thrawn dismissed. "Though gratifying, such an attempt would yield few answers." It wasn't an unpleasant thought, having his men take a few rounds against the traitor.

"He seems to have some sentiment for Bridger," Pryce noted. "Could we employ the boy as leverage against him?"

Thrawn smirked faintly. "Amusing, but... no. Agent Kallus is too practical; he will not give up the wider Rebel base just for Bridger's sake."

He started to pace again.

"Now that we know they are connected, however, we can review our intelligence information with fresh eyes." Thrawn touched a hand to his chin in thought, then made a decision. "Speak with Agent Kallus's associates and subordinates," he instructed Pryce. "Let us see if we can get a map of his recent movements. And I want everything we have on him, all records, reports, and files." If there was a pattern, he would spot it easily.

She nodded curtly. "As you wish, Grand Admiral."

She departed swiftly, leaving him to his thoughts. Thrawn glanced through the observation window. Bridger was limp, head lolling on his shoulder. Aside from the gentle rise and fall of his chest, he was completely still.

So. Once again the boy's resilience surprised him. But Thrawn was nothing if not patient. And torturing Bridger was not nearly his only angle.

As he left the observation room he was already bringing to mind his keen recollection of Bridger's file, sifting through the information, analyzing everything and disregarding nothing.

The boy would come to regret his defiance.

—

Chapter notes!  (Copy/pasted from FFnet, shh, I won’t tell if you won’t.)

1. Not as much Kallus this round, I know, but don't worry, he'll be back next chapter.

2. Worried Spacedad is worried. :)

3. Since the Imperials were able to pick up the first coded transmission Chopper sent (as conveyed by Yularen in the episode), it became necessary to explain how they're able to keep talking to Kanan and Rex without continuing to arouse suspicion. So my excuse is basically that Chopper was sloppy and half-assed his job the first time and AP-5 has been riding his butt about it and making him take extra precautions to mask their signal ever since.

Chapter Three will be uploaded shortly and I’m actually working on Chapter Four presently so.  Expect to see that one soon as well. :)

[beebeecee]

Captain Taeil (???)

@alittlebitblockbbias: Can someone anyone make me a fic of Taeil the sea captain of his little boat out on the sea shirtless being cool or cute or hot whatever you want it’s your fic. I just need a story about shirtless Taeil swimming or fishing and just hanging out on a boat. This whole fandom needs this so please be the chosen one!

Your wish is my command ~  I don’t think this needs any particular warnings, but it’s like 2800 words. Whoops.. (This ended up being dialogue heavy because the members tease each other, but it’s OT7 so??)

...

TAEIL!!! We finally have a break in our schedule can we go and take that trip now that you bought your new boat?? :)

Taeil’s phone vibrates beside him, he smiles as Jihoon’s name flashes across the screen.

Great idea! I’ll message the guys and see if they want to come with us 

...

“Minhyuk, are you seriously not packed yet? We’re supposed to be leaving tomorrow.”

“Oh relax, I’ll be ready.”

“You better be. I swear if I have to listen to Jiho complain about it for the next month I’ll just let him leave you on the side of the road somewhere.”

“Oh haha, very funny, Ukwon. Don’t quit your day job, I’m not sure being a comedian will be a good career choice for you,” Minhyuk retorted, smiling before getting promptly punched in the arm for the unwanted commentary. “Ow.. was that necessary?”

“You know I’m damn well funny, I could be a comedian if I wanted,” Ukwon chuckled.

Ukwon planned to crash at Minhyuk’s place overnight so that there were less places to stop in the morning. Jiho was nice enough to offer to drive, so he thought it would be easier to just go to Minhyuk’s since it was closer anyway. It also gave them a chance to practice their dance stage for the showcase next month. Minhyuk’s minimalist style made it easy to move things around for practice space. This was very different from Ukwon’s place that first required they find somewhere to keep the dog, so they would be out of the way.

At the unholy hour of five in the morning, both boys were woken up by the pleasant sounds of birds chirping … which were being entirely drowned out by their members’ antics.

Jihoon and Jiho barged through the front door, blowing an air horn outside of both rooms. “Rise and shine boys, it’s trip time!” Jihoon laughed at Jiho’s screams.

Why did I give them a key again? Minhyuk mumbled to himself.

The two fumbled around in the kitchen giving the guys a few minutes to crawl out of their rooms.

Ukwon was the first to get up, begrudgingly throwing on some cut off jean shorts, an obscure band t-shirt, and his favourite baseball hat on backwards as he shuffled out in search of coffee. Jiho had a cup held out in front of him as Ukwon trudged over to take it and seek refuge on the couch. Unfortunately for Minhyuk, he had yet to emerge.

Jihoon skipped over to his room and yelled at him.

“Are you decent? I’m coming in!”

There was no answer. 

“Minhyuk?” Jihoon pushed again.

“No, go away it’s too early.”

“Why, do you have a lady in there or something?” Jihoon giggled, briefly pausing. What if he did have a lady in there? Jihoon waited for a response.

“No I just need to-“ Minhyuk trailed off.  

“I told you what time we were leaving,” Jiho yelled over as Jihoon was cracking open the door. “It’s not my fault you can’t listen.”

“I told you what time we were leaving” Minhyuk repeated, mocking Jiho.

“Really?” Jihoon giggled, climbing on top of him.

Minhyuk groaned. “Get off of me. No. What are you do – oh my god. That’s disgusting!”

After listening to the drama, Ukwon petered over to Minhyuk’s door to see what was going on. Before he could ask, he started laughing. Jiho quickly ran over to see what Ukwon was laughing at, almost spitting out his own coffee after seeing the boys.

“As if you just put your wet finger in my ear, what the fuck?” Minhyuk groaned, punching Jihoon in the shoulder.

Before the two could get into things any further, Ukwon stepped in to remind them that they had to sit in a car together directly following this.

“You’re right, Ukwon. You can sit shotgun because these two will annoy me.” Jiho laughed.

There was an awkward pause as the boys waited for Minhyuk to crawl out from under his several layers of blankets.

“Okay, why are you still not getting up?” Jiho said, raising his eyebrow.

“Ten bucks says Jihoon just sat on a man that is not wearing any boxers.” Ukwon said, pointing to the blanket Minhyuk was holding against himself.

“Are you seriously not wearing anything?” Jiho questioned.

“Way to expose me, Ukwon.” Minhyuk said, pulling the blanket closer to himself.

“We lived with you, I unfortunately remember you don’t like clothes. If I wanted to expose you, I’d do this!” Ukwon said as he ripped the blanket from Minhyuk’s hand and fled out of the room howling.

“Great, I’m blind.” Jiho turned toward the door, with Jihoon following suit.

…

“Is that all of it?” Ukwon questioned, handing Jiho another bag.

“Shit I hope so or we’ll never get out of here.”

“Can you two idiots hurry up and just get in the car? If we don’t leave soon I’m going back to bed,” said Minhyuk.

“Fine, but I hope if we forget anything, it’s yours” Jiho said, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“I call first dibs on the aux cord” Ukwon chirped, breaking the tension.

“No fucking way. You listen to the weirdest shit,” Minhyuk gestured to Ukwon’s t-shirt.

“Yeah, I have to go with Minhyuk on this one, your music taste is really strange” Jihoon agreed.

“Fine, but I’m not listening to Nickleback so don’t torture me like last time.” Ukwon snapped back.

…

“Are we almost there? I want to see Taeil!” Jihoon whined.

“What about Jaehyo and Kyung?” Minhyuk asked, laughing at how antsy Jihoon had become. He was almost bouncing in his seat, peering out the window.

“I want to see them too, but I haven’t seen Taeil in almost 5 days.” Jihoon said, checking his phone for what had to be the tenth time in the last couple minutes.

The boys were meeting Taeil, Jaehyo and Kyung at the marina where Taeil kept his boat. They pulled up to the entrance, having to use a code to gain access. The matte black gates slowly retracted into the brick wall, and Jiho began to head down the long driveway. All down the sides there were aged willow trees that hung over the path, blocking the view. They did provide a space for a lot of birds to hang out, Jihoon watched as a duck flew along side the car. No wonder Jaehyo loves this place, he thought. 

“Wow, is that the marina?” Ukwon piped up as they came around the last bend.

The marina’s main building spanned several thousand square feet, with giant potted plants placed purposely on either side of the door’s arch. The entire building was situated only meters away from the water, making the boys stop conversation all together to take in the sight. To the left of the monstrous building were the docks where luxury boat after boat were parked next to each other. 

“And you guys think I’m frivolous,” Jiho mumbled under his breath.

“Isn’t that Jaehyo and Kyung?!” Jihoon screamed, trying to open the door before Jiho could even get properly stopped.

He parked just outside of the door, letting the boys get out and meet up with the others.

All of the members hadn’t been together in a couple weeks as they had a break in their schedule, so they were busy catching up. Well, that is besides Taeil and Jihoon. Taeil wouldn’t be able to escape him even if he wanted to.

Jaehyo and Kyung came over to say hi to everyone, but were intercepted by the bouncy Jihoon. Before they went to greet the others, Minhyuk had requested that Ukwon act as his personal photographer so that he could update his SNS. Ukwon laughed, obliging in his self-indulgent need to take pictures in front of anything remotely aesthetic.

“How was the drive?” Jaehyo asked, walking up to the car window.

“Surprisingly not too bad, except I almost had to get the guys to duct tape Jihoon’s mouth shut.” He laughed, pointing to an excited Jihoon who was now after Kyung. “He wouldn’t stop talking about Taeil the entire time, it’s like he’s having withdrawals or something.”

You could hear Kyung screaming in the distance while trying to avoid kisses, “What did you guys feed him?!”

Jaehyo nodded, “something about that doesn’t surprise me”.

“You look like you’re ready to go out already. We should probably get Taeil to show us where to bring everything” Jiho said, pausing. “Where is he anyway?”

“Oh, he’s on the boat getting set up, but said that Jihoonie texted him saying you guys were here so we came out to get you.”

“What’s going on?” Ukwon popped up.

“Hey Kwonnie, how are you?” Jaehyo asked smiling.

“Great! I’m excited to get out and go swimming. Sunhye’s visiting her parents all weekend too so I don’t have to worry.” Ukwon paused, “did you bring your fishing gear?”

“Of course. I got some new lures I’m hoping to test out too. What were you doing with Minhyuk?”

“Oh him? Instagram.” Ukwon sighed.

“Enough said,”Jaehyo laughed, being able to relate to Ukwon’s photography pain.

Before the two were able to catch up any further they were interrupted by Jihoon’s screams as Taeil rounded the corner. A little worried about the commotion, Taeil stepped back a few feet on the walkway, not sure if he was going to be hugged or tackled by the ball of excitement barreling toward him.

“Poor Taeil,” Minhyuk laughed, walking over to the car.

“Poor Taeil? I just spent the last 5 minutes running away from him and none of you did anything to help me.” Kyung whined, joining the circle.

“Is Taeil shirtless?” Ukwon asked, pointing toward the small man being picked up and swung around by Jihoon.

“Yeah, that’s pretty usual for him here actually” Jaehyo replied.

“Something about the boat must give him the confidence, but any time I’ve been out with him on the boat he hasn’t worn one,” Kyung added.

Taeil finally contained Jihoon enough to join the others at Jiho’s window.

“Hey guys, glad you made it. Want to grab your stuff and I’ll show you my new baby?” He chuckled, gesturing to the docks.

The seven of them scrambled to collect everything, Jiho showing off by taking one of the coolers himself, while Minhyuk and Kyung struggled to coordinate on either side of the other.

Taeil led them along the docks, down to the other end where his new boat was sitting. The boat was shining in the sun, with the red stripe down the side reflecting on the calm water. Scrawled across the side was the words “Dime Girl” in thick white lettering.

“You guys are going to love her,” Taeil beamed, “there’s so much seating on the top level and the lower deck has a full kitchen and dining space in the one end and-”

“Gaaahhhh, Taeil is so cool” Jihoon chimed in, then continuing to make a series of inaudible noises.

The guys laughed at Jihoon’s excitement and started to bring their things on board.

…

“We’re about 5 minutes away from the cove,” Taeil yelled out to the boys.

“It’s a really nice spot,” Jaehyo said to the guys who were sat on the bow. “The fishing is great in the morning here too.”

Jaehyo and Kyung got up to go help Taeil anchor the boat, leaving the others to chat among themselves. Excited about being close to their final destination, Ukwon and Jihoon raced down to the lower deck to get changed into swimwear.

Taeil appeared from behind the captain’s chair once the ship was anchored in place; his inked skin glowing in the sunlight. Minhyuk seemed particularly fascinated with what was on his shoulder.

“Taeil, did you get a new tattoo recently?” He asked, snickering to himself.

“Not exactly. Someone thinks he’s hilarious,” he sighed, pointing to the words ‘Kyung was here’ written on the petals of a poorly-drawn flower. “It’s henna.”

Kyung and Jaehyo had just gotten out the water toys and laid them out on the deck of the boat when the others had come over to see what they were up to.

“Taeil, what are you looking at?” Kyung questioned, backing away from him.

“I was just reminded of your little prank,” Taeil said, stalking closer.

“Prank what prank? W-What did I-?” He stammered, trying to backpedal himself out of trouble. Before he was able to finish his sentence, Taeil charged at him full speed knocking Kyung and himself over the edge of the boat and the two splashed into the water. 

Looking over the side of the boat, the boys couldn’t contain themselves. Jiho was almost bent over in tears. “I can’t.. believe.. Taeil.. tackled him.. off of the side of the boat” he managed to say in between bursts of laughter.

A few seconds later, Taeil emerged to the surface laughing. He shook his head before pushing back his slick black hair and wiping the water from his eyes. Droplets collected on his bare shoulders, with little waves lapping at the back of his neck every so often, intermittently exposing his tattoos. From the surface his upper bodies was just a myriad of colours that was contrasted with the bright blue that stretched across much of the horizon.

Meanwhile, when Kyung surfaced he was blinded by his shaggy hair hanging in his face, gasping for air as he was still in shock that Taeil had tackled him to begin with.

Did that really just happen? He thought to himself.

Kyung dipped his head into the water to better manage his hair situation, pushing it back and out of his face.

“I had my phone in my pocket Taeil, you suck” he pouted, paddling over to the back of the boat. Taeil was close behind him.

“You wrote your own name on my shoulder and it’s going to be there for weeks. I have no sympathy” Taeil glared at him.

“Okay, maybe I kind of deserved that” Kyung admitted, grabbing a hold of the ladder and pulling himself out. Kyung’s once loose clothing clung to his body, hugging every curve as the water drained off of him. Grinning, he flicked water toward Jaehyo and Jiho.

“Don’t make me send you back in,” Jiho threatened him.

“Yeah, I’m sure you want to go swimming in your Gucci shirt,” Jaehyo teased.

Taeil soon followed suit and pulled himself out of the water, the droplets glistening on his upper body. The sun reflected off of his skin almost perfectly, making the coloured art appear brighter. Time seemed to stand still as each muscle in his arms protruded when he grabbed the hand rails on either side of the steps. The black swim trunks he was wearing didn’t leave a lot to the imagination, but he was comfortable. Among his members that he’s known for so many years, he was as confident as he would have been if he was out on the water himself as he often ventured. Taeil loved going out on his boat. There is something so freeing about having the sun warm his skin and the wind running through his hair as he palmed the wheel. Taeil smiled as he thought about it. He was finally able to be shirtless with all of his members around without a stylist trying to put him in another oversized sweater.

“Taeil looks like a model” came a giddy, but deep voice. Jihoon bounced over to Taeil grinning, complementing him on how much muscle he had gained from spending so much time in the gym.

The boys were excited to have some time to themselves without all of the staff constantly running around and fidgeting with each particular strand of hair, or putting an extra layer of powder on their face. There was a mutual feeling of contentment as they settled into the first activities of the weekend. Zico and Kyung soon found themselves basking in the sunshine on some loungers on the water talking about girls, while Minhyuk was firm that he would learn how to fish from Jaehyo. It would surely lead to a great Instagram post if nothing else, he thought.

However, perhaps most comical is that Jihoon had somehow recruited both Ukwon and Taeil to play with a beach ball in the water with him. The game continued on for awhile until Taeil’s spike toward Jihoon was a little too aggressive and it hit Jiho square in the face. Nothing could contain Kyung’s laughter as he fell out of his lounger after witnessing the ball bounce off of Jiho’s nose. The event sent Ukwon into hysterics and soon the others too, even the fishing duo were cracking up as they watched what happened from above.

A feeling of calm rushed over Taeil as he realized they were all really getting to spend some quality vacation time together.  [Yes, It’s kind of a cheesy ending, fight me.]