#but sometimes the teacher would pick him to answer and like I’d just die a little LOL 😭

[kavehater]

GUYS WTH DOES A MID ATLANTIC ACCENT SOUND LIKE ?!?!!

[intrepidacious]

time after time [1]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 6.0k

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, accidentally starting a time loop, banter, pretty angsty to start us off with ngl, reminder to read the fic premise. please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: happy groundhog day and welcome to the first instalment of the series i’ve been sitting on since july. i’ve always loved time loop storylines, so i thought, why not indulge myself and put my own twist on it?

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

one: turn back the clock

Your mother used to call it a gift, but for most of your life, your powers had felt more like a curse.

It began when you were a toddler; small hops backwards through time barely noticeable to anyone but yourself, or an afternoon lost to everything speeding up around you. Sometimes, the world would just stop spinning for an hour or two and you would wander between the frozen people, crying and confused, until things finally picked up speed again and your parents would shout your name because you’d simply disappeared before their very eyes.

When you got older, you found out that this little quirk of yours could be useful every now and then. If a teacher asked a question you didn’t know the answer to, you learned to will yourself back just enough to keep up your participation score. It didn’t particularly feel right, but it was one of the few benefits your strange powers provided, then.

For the most part, you couldn’t control it, though. For the most part, it meant having to relive painful moments and rush through the good ones. It meant screaming into people’s unmoving faces until your voice got hoarse because you couldn’t figure out how to get time to move again.

You assumed what you were going through was what everyone was talking about when they spoke of déjà-vu, until you mentioned it to your mother one day and she sighed deeply and said, “oh honey, I thought it had stopped.”

Maybe your family had more secrets than you’d given them credit for.

“You’re such a special girl,” they would tell you later. Such a special, clever girl. This is a great thing, you know. It’s your talent to make things right, make them the way they should be.

It was your own mistake that you started to believe their lies.

*****

“Something is very, very wrong here,” you say quietly.

“You always say that,” Sam says, securing the room ahead and then nodding for you to follow him.

“Yeah, and I’m usually right.” Your fingers are itching for you to flick them and speed up this terrible silence so that you can at least know what’s going on. You ignore the urge, but keep one hand held out in front of you, your thumb and first two fingers pointing upwards. The other hand grips tightly around your automatic.

The hallway doesn’t stretch out very far, but what little of the low sunlight makes it in through the dirty windows gives it a strange, eerie atmosphere. Maybe that’s what you’re picking up on, you try to tell yourself. The air is thick with a stench you can’t identify.

“Lovely interior design,” Sam mumbles. You follow his gaze to a pile of bones that lie scattered in one of the rudimentary holding cells you’re walking past. A spider runs from his flashlight and you grimace.

“Sam,” you say, focusing on the half-extended wings on his back again. “Did you invent this mission to get us to go to a haunted house with you?”

He snorts lightly as he pulls the cloth off the crates that are stacked alongside the wall. There’s a single red handprint near the bottom right of each of them. You almost sigh.

“Do you think I’d pass up the opportunity to hear the two of you scream in terror when the vampire puppets creep up on you?”

“Gotta disappoint you, cap,” you grin and wait for him to check the map. “I only scream when there’s good reason.”

“I don’t wanna interrupt,” Bucky interrupts over the intercom, “but they’re heading your way now, so get a move on.”

“You’re no fun, Bucky.” Still, your eyes flick to your rings. Almost all of them have turned a deep black, with specks of emerald few and far between. Useless. “I probably only have one reset left. Two, if we’re lucky and you two aren’t being stupid again.”

“I prefer heroic,” Sam says and turns back to you, a concerned look on his face. “You alright?”

You nod. “Just haven’t gotten a lot of sleep since London.” Between Sam’s snoring on the plane ride back and the early mornings, you are currently running mostly on strong coffee and lots of sugar. “It’s gonna be fine. Just try not to get killed.”

“Good old-fashioned survival. Reminds me of old times.” Sam’s voice might be light, but you know him well enough by now to tell he’s still worried. Your stomach twists with it.

“Can’t say that, bud,” Bucky says. “Twenty seconds.”

“You need to repair Redwing,” you tell Sam. “Being the lookout makes Barnes cranky.”

“You forget that he’s always cranky.”

While you’re still bantering, you place the explosives you’ve brought next to the wall Sam has pointed out. It’s not the most elegant way, but there hasn’t been time to research key codes or break in quietly, so you’re going in with a bang.

Sam and you take cover behind the shield. The little timer starts counting down from ten.

“Any time, Buck,” Sam says. “Five. Four.”

Two shots find their marks outside. You turn your head to see one of the people in white fall through the far entrance of the hallway, holding their knee in pain.

“One.”

You shut your eyes just in time before the door gets blasted off its hidden hinges. A cloud of dust hits your face and you start coughing violently.

“Everyone alright?” Bucky shouts and you grimace at the volume of his voice in your ear.

“Yeah,” Sam answers. “Our wrinkle in time here just decided to inhale some metal.” He claps you on the back a few times until the grime has finally cleared from your lungs. “You good?”

“All good,” you rasp, roughly drying your eyes with your sleeve.

It’s times like this, you think, that your powers are truly the most useless. There’s no way for you to go back and unclog your lungs of whatever atrocities you just inhaled. You’re cursed to always stay exactly as you are.

“Are you guys waiting for a formal invite?” Bucky asks, walking past you without a single glance in your direction.

“Any more comin’?” Sam looks down the now opened entryway. Just like you expected, the lab on the other side seems empty.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Bucky answers, “but I’d rather not stick around to find out.”

You take a look over your shoulder back down the hall at where the white jacket is still lying, unconscious. In the gloomy light, there are strange reflections moving across their goggles, and you can’t help but frown as the uneasy feeling sinks deeper into your bones. Like a tingle that claws its way down your spine to settle in your fingertips. You pull your gun out of the holster.

“Don’t you feel like this is way too easy?” you say quietly, reassuming your position between the two of them.

“Yup,” Sam says, shield still held up in front of him. He keeps moving forward.

The lab is smaller than you expected, crammed with tables that are overflowing with strangely colored concoctions and stacks upon stacks of papers. You take a step closer, trying to make sense of the strange chemical formulas scribbled next to a bunch of tables and graphs. It’s not exactly your strong subject, though, and you can’t really concentrate with someone else breathing down your neck.

“You’re hovering again, Barnes,” you say without looking up, and feel his gaze move away from you. Even after all this time, he still doesn’t trust you one bit.

“This isn’t it,” Sam says, closing the last of the filing cabinets with a bang. “They must’ve cleared out before we got—here. Alright.”

Bucky makes him take a step to the side before hooking his metal arm into the cabinet and pulling. With a screech of protest, the entire thing slowly moves open to reveal a broad winding staircase leading downwards. Another wave of the horrid smell hits you, even stronger now, like something metallic that’s being set on fire.

“Show-off,” you mumble as you slip past Bucky and his smugly raised eyebrow.

The stairs go down deeper and deeper for a lot longer than you'd expected, lit by motion detector lights that turn your shadows into overly large figures on the opposite wall. It doesn’t ease your premonition in the slightest. Finally, everything opens up and you look down into a large, almost cave-like room. It extends pretty far backwards before it splits into several tunnels that remind you of the one you spotted when you got out of the quinjet earlier.

But despite the stone walls and your being several feet underground, it is surprisingly warm down here, probably due to the several giant containers placed along one of the walls that seem to be the source of the atrocious smell. They are also faintly glowing.

“Are we gonna get radiation poisoning?” you ask. “Because you definitely don’t pay me enough for that.”

“I doubt they’d send their own people ‘round the perimeter with nothing more than a face mask if those things were radioactive,” Sam says. “And you’re here voluntarily.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” you mumble, but you follow him anyway.

Unlike the lab upstairs, everything here looks orderly, almost pristine. Not a single sheet of paper is unfiled, the metal tables are empty and wiped clean. There’s a gentle whirring sound that leads your gaze to several monitors, some of which are showing different maps and security camera footage while others seem to be tracking the progress of some sort of test.

“Look at that,” Sam says, stepping closer to the containers. “What is that?”

A dark blue liquid is slowly dropping out of a hole near the bottom of one of the containers. Bucky kneels down next to it.

“Don’t touch that!” you say quickly and he rolls his eyes.

“I wasn’t going to.” Sam hands him a little glass vial and Bucky carefully scoops up some of the liquid with his left hand.

“Maybe we can send that to Banner, have him take a look.” Sam walks over to the computers and plugs in a drive. “We’ll make a copy of that for Torres and then get out of here.”

“What do you think that is?” you wonder, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Once again, this mission has you feeling unbelievably superfluous.

“Not the serum. Wrong color,” Bucky answers as if he could read your thoughts. He pockets the vial in his jacket and stands up. “You’re hovering again, Y/L/N.”

You’d roll your eyes, too, if you didn’t know that’d only make that stupid smirk reappear. “Can we leave before I do something he’ll regret?” you shout at Sam.

“That’s sweet,” Bucky smirks anyway.

“I think we have another problem right now,” Sam says, looking up from the monitors. “We’re getting company.”

Only a moment later there’s a thunderous crash and the table to your far left bursts into flames. You stumble backwards. Right overhead, there’s a large round hole where the floor of the small lab on the first floor used to be.

All of a sudden, dozens of people descend upon you from all directions, swarming the lab and surrounding you within seconds. They’re all dressed exactly the same, white jackets over their black overalls, identical white face masks and goggles, and matching black berets.

“Oh, this is like a nightmare flash mob,” you shout as you avoid the first kick to your face. “They must’ve sounded a silent alarm!”

“D’you think?” Bucky huffs, punching another white jacket in the jaw.

You aim your gun just as Sam flings his wings out, swishing your target off their feet. Behind them, another group closes in. You fire without a second thought, and three of them drop to the ground.

Just as you try to reload your weapon, someone rips it out of your hand and hits you across the face with it. You stumble, eyes welling up, as they grab you around the neck, dragging you backwards with such strength you are forced to the tips of your toes. Your heart is thundering with panic, unbidden mental images threatening to come back to the surface as you try to pry their hands loose to no avail. Black dots are starting to dance across your vision.

Then, there’s a sickening cracking noise, and the pressure is gone from your throat. You stumble forwards, coughing, before you’re pulled back to your feet, fast but not roughly. Blue eyes find yours, a look almost like concern in them.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you gasp. “Thanks.”

“You tryin’ to suffocate today?” He hands you your gun back and you shrug, pressing the memories all the way back down again.

“Sam might give me a day off if I faint.”

Another explosion has both of you turn your heads up. A shower of glass splinters and burning pieces of paper rains down through the hole on the first floor, taking bits of the ceiling down with it.

“We better get moving,” Sam shouts. “If you take care of the drive and these idiots, I’ll clear the tunnels for a way out of here!”

Wordlessly, Bucky holds up his arm. Sam throws the shield, hitting two more white jackets in the face before Bucky catches it with ease. You kick another one of them in the groin, wrangling the weapon out of their grasp.

“Who the fuck brings a knife to a fight like this?” you shout.

“And what’s that thing on your thigh, you planning a picnic?” Bucky replies, holding up the shield to protect both of you from hailing gunshots.

“Well—it’s—tradition!” Each of your words is punctuated by a punch. “And why are you looking at my thigh, Bucky?”

Before he can answer, there’s a string of curses and the sound of breaking metal directly in your ear. You let go of your weapon as your hands move up, and it stops its fall in mid air as time screeches to a stop.

The sudden silence in the middle of everything that’s been going on would be disconcerting if you weren’t so used to it by now. Everyone is frozen around you as you turn and take a step from behind the shield to see what’s happening on the other side of the room.

Sam is still up in the air, and even from a distance you can see the grimace on his face and the splotches of red on his stomach. One of his wings is at a strange angle, and you look around quickly to find the white jacket still aiming the blaster that must’ve hit him.

You take a deep breath and reach backwards until you feel the old familiar tingling between your fingers. It’s fickle, like it always is, and all the more unpredictable because you’re tired. Still, you force it to wind back, if only a little.

Time resets with a start.

“—on your thigh, you planning a picnic?”

“Two o’clock,” you gasp.

Bucky reacts almost on instinct, taking out the shooter before they can do any harm while you punch your opponent in the face again. It takes you two more blows than last time to take them down. When you look at your hands, they’re shaking. There’s nothing but the slightest wisp of green left swimming in the black of your rings.

“I’m really gonna need you to not be stupid from now on,” you shout as soon as you catch your breath again.

Bucky curses. “Sam, we’re coming now. There’s too many of ‘em to wait ‘round for this stupid thing to copy.”

“Do you need me to come get you?”

“No.” He bashes a white jacket on the head with the shield and throws it against the last one that’s still standing. It doesn’t fly quite in the same elegant way as when Sam does it, toppling over itself and landing on the ground next to the unconscious guard. “Just get the jet started. Can you walk?” he asks you.

“‘Course I can walk,” you say, slightly annoyed, but your eyes are fixed on the monitors on the far side of the room. “I think it’s done.”

“Just get out of there,” Sam says through the comms. “I can see at least another dozen heading in up here.”

You look at Bucky and his eyes narrow at the resolute look on your face. It’s your fault you’re even here in the first place, though. You might as well fix it. It’s only going to take a second, anyway.

“No—” Time glitches. “—thing—” Time stumbles over itself. “—stupid, damnit!” Time moves at an unsteady pace and then moves again as you almost trip over your own feet, pulling the drive out of the computer and holding it up triumphantly just as Bucky reaches you.

“See?” you grin. “All good.”

And then the computer explodes.

You’re thrown against Bucky, who catches your fall somewhat, rolling both of you over and out of harm’s way. Your ears are ringing, and you can tell by the buzzing that your intercom is probably broken. Surprisingly, you both seem unharmed apart from that.

Bucky stares at you, face only a few inches from yours and fury still blazing in his eyes. It almost makes you want to laugh. In fact, it’s exhilarating.

“Do you wanna get out of here or what?”

He looks like he’s going to kill you himself. “Geez, I hate you.”

You get to your feet with a low snort, the adrenaline making you strangely giddy as you catch up with Bucky, who is already stomping back in the direction of the tunnels. “I think this was a great success,” you say lightly, stepping over another body. “If Sam hurries up, we might even make it in time for the fireworks—”

He catches you by the elbows and shoves you to the side in one fluid motion the same moment another shot sounds.

Your head whips around and you throw your knife without hesitation. The assailant slumps backwards. There’s still steam coming out of the blaster that never hit Sam, but you barely notice it. You fall to your knees next to Bucky, frantically pressing your hands on the wound in his chest. There’s so much blood. How is there so much blood?

“No, no no no, this isn’t happening. Bucky!” Your head is empty of coherent thought. There’s just panic. “Sam!”

“Ther—half a—”

You tear the broken intercom out of your ear. “Buck, you have to stay with me. We’re, we’re going to get you home, okay?”

His blue eyes find yours. They’re impossibly wide. “So—so stupid,” he pants and his face distorts in pain.

You feel sick to your stomach. “I know. I know, I’m so—I’m so sorry, I’m gonna fix this.”

You flick your fingers, again and again, but there’s nothing. There’s absolutely nothing. You don’t feel the pull, not even the tiniest bit of a quiver. You’re just grasping at air, your powers betraying you once again. A curse.

Bucky starts blurring in front of you and you blink the tears away, refusing to let him out of focus. “Please.”

With concerted effort, he raises his hand to lie on top of yours. “S’okay, doll,” he gets out, his mouth contorting a little. “Y/N. S’okay.”

And then his eyes glaze over.

You scream.

You scream because nothing is okay, because you’re useless, because none of this should have happened and it’s all your fault, and you’re clutching Bucky’s hand in yours because maybe if you hold onto him tightly enough, he’ll come back and all of this will seem like a bad dream. Maybe if you try again, and again, and again, you can make this go away, make it actually okay again, because you don’t know how you’re going to live with yourself if you can’t do the one fucking thing you were supposed to do.

Useless.

You don’t let go of his hand as you press your eyes shut and try to grasp at the edges of your power, try to feel the ridges and flickers in the fabric of everything, reaching out for something, anything, any point in time or space that they can connect to and drag you out of here.

And then they do.

It’s tiny at first, a miniscule spec of something, and you cry out again as you reach out. You feel like your soul is being stripped bare by the effort alone.

Then, it crashes over you like a tidal wave, knocking you forward into Bucky once again. You feel yourself covering his head, cradling it as if that would make a difference. It’s an almost automatic reaction.

Your self seems to expand further and further and shrink at the same time, way worse than it ever has when you’re using your powers, and you feel almost seasick. You press your forehead against Bucky’s.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper. “It’s going to be okay.”

There is an explosion of green light all around you that lifts you up into the air, and then nothing but darkness as you fade out of consciousness.

***

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.

For a moment, you’re completely disoriented, staring at your surroundings in confusion. You’re in your own bedroom back at the Tower, your feet tangled in the sheets and eyes still bleary. You almost let yourself believe that it was all just a nightmare, another horrible dream conjured up by some subconscious remnants of the past, although even the worst of your dreams haven’t felt as real as what you just went through.

The idea is short-lived, anyway.

Your hands are still shaking when you lift them to your face. There’s blood all over your palms and stuck under your fingernails, leaving crimson stains on your bedding. Bucky’s blood.

You swallow down the bile that rises in your stomach and carefully twist your rings around on your fingers, one after the other. All of them are completely pitch black, darker than you’ve ever seen them.

Then again, you’ve never tried anything like this.

You clear your throat and take a deep breath. “FRIDAY?” you say cautiously. The music quietens as the A.I. comes to attention with a gentle tinkle. “What day is it?”

“Today is Friday, July 4th,” FRIDAY tells you.

You huff incredulously, your heart still pounding wildly. Somehow, you did it. It’s yesterday morning again. You actually did it.

Stumbling, you reach your tiny bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. There’s a tiny nick on your left cheek from where the white jacket hit you with your gun last night, but you couldn’t care less because you’re back. It worked.

You scrub your hands under the hot water until it runs clear again, still stunned. You can’t remember ever jumping backwards that far, not without feeling completely exhausted anyway, but right now, you’re strangely alright, even though the adrenaline is still rushing through your veins.

The mix of emotions running through your head is so confusing that you don’t notice the band around your wrist until you’re drying off your hands.

It’s so close to your skin it almost looks like a tattoo, partially translucent and glowing dimly emerald. Instinctively, you try to rub at it, but your fingers go straight through it and you feel a tiny spark of electricity. When you hold out your hand at the right angle, you can see it’s made up of tiny symbols forming geometric shapes, moving around your arm in a slow, seamless circle. The longer you stare at it, the more hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

There’s a pounding at your door, followed immediately by Sam’s voice. “Rise and shine, McFly! Time to get your ass kicked!”

You look at the clock on your bedroom wall. It’s shortly before 8 a.m., which gives you almost the entire day before you’re called on that mission. More than enough time to recuperate your powers and figure out a plan to make sure everything goes smoothly this time.

Until then, you just have to act normally.

“Not gonna happen, birdbrain!” you shout back, just like you did yesterday, and go through the pile of semi-clean gym clothes by the foot of your bed. As you get changed, you take another second to look at the strange emerald band around your wrist. Then, you pull a sweatband over it to camouflage it. You’ll deal with this later. For now, it’s training with Sam, a shower and breakfast.

And discreetly checking up on Bucky in a normal, non I Just Watched You Die kind of way. You can totally manage that.

“Don’t ever wake me up like that again!” you call out to Sam, closing the door to your room behind you.

He pushes away from the wall and falls into step next to you, grinning. “Sweet white teenage angst not your style?”

“You’re the worst.” The song is stuck in your head now, too, just like yesterday, but unlike then, you can’t find it in you to be mad about that fact. You did it.

“You’re in a good mood,” Sam remarks as you’re climbing up the stairs and you look at him in surprise. This is new.

Yester-today you didn’t talk at all on your way to the gym, what with you being both tired and annoyed at him. You’re usually wary about changing details during your redos, because the tiniest things can make the outcome of a situation unpredictable.

Still, you’ve never gone this far back. And isn’t this about making today a better day, really?

So you smile. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“Not bad,” Sam says, eyebrow still raised. “Suspicious, maybe. Are you gonna salt someone’s coffee again?”

“I did that one time.” You roll your eyes as you push open the door to the gym. It’s a lot smaller than the one at the Compound was, and you particularly miss the swimming pool, but the view from the Tower is without compare. Midtown looks magnificent in the early sunlight.

You drop your rings into the little metal bowl you keep next to the window and climb into the boxing ring after Sam, stretching your back.

“Let’s get this over with, then.”

Before Sam and Bucky found you, you hadn’t sparred for months and not exactly missed it. Training with soldiers and former assassins who held back every single punch and still managed to drop you on the mat with infuriating ease had never been very fun for you, and what with the universe saved and all, you hadn’t really seen the point in keeping up the practice once the dust blew over. Now that you’re regularly going on missions again, though, you have to stay in shape.

And although you hate to admit it even to yourself, there is something calming about being back in a routine like this. It keeps your head from getting stuck in the fuzzy grayness of it all. Damn those dopamines your therapist keeps telling you about.

Today, though, this today, your eyes are continually drawn to the door while you’re dodging and blocking Sam. It makes you sloppy even by your standards, which are mediocre at best thanks to your impatience. Of course it doesn’t escape his notice.

“What is up with you today?” he asks when he helps you get back to your feet for the third time this morning.

You dab the sweat off your face, hissing when you accidentally rub the cut on your cheek. At least Sam hasn’t said anything about that. “Slept weird,” you say evasively.

“Nightmare?” he offers with a compassionate look.

“Sort of,” you answer. “Feels a little … déjà-vu-y.”

“I know the type,” Sam says. “Wanna talk about it?”

You do. But the time stuff is your problem to deal with, and so you shake your head.

“Alright,” he says, rolling his shoulders back and raising an eyebrow. “Come on, then. You gotta get one kick in, at least, and hurry up, because I’m starving.”

“You could stop moving, then we’re done faster,” you grin. Your stomach is growling, too.

“Nice try, McFly.”

“You used that one earlier,” you say, shaking your head in faux disappointment. “Are you running out of nicknames, Sammy?”

“I’m not gonna be creative for someone who can’t kick above their waistline.”

“How dare you!”

You lose that round, too, but Sam deems you motivated enough to call it a day. He throws his towel over his shoulder and heads to the showers while you lay your head down on the mat and close your eyes for a moment. Waiting.

Yester-today, you didn’t hear Bucky come in, either. He was just sitting next to the ring when you looked to your side, hair sticking to his forehead and shirt clinging to his muscles, still a little damp after his shower. Then, you felt a slight rush of embarrassment at how much of a sweaty mess you were.

Now, you couldn’t care less.

“You look like shit.”

You turn your head and there he is. Living, breathing proof that you actually did do it. And for the first time in a long while, you feel nothing but gratitude for your powers.

Oh, fuck you, Barnes. If you’re sticking to the rules you’ve set for yourself long ago, that’s what you’re supposed to say, because that’s what you said the first time. Change as little as possible.

But even if you hadn’t broken them earlier, you couldn’t do it now. Not when you’re feeling this happy to see Bucky alive again. Alive and well, and slightly grumpy as ever.

So what falls out of your mouth instead is, “You’re looking good.”

Bucky squints at you and you smile at the way his cheeks are still slightly pink from his morning run, proof of his heart still beating. “Did Sam hit you in the head?”

You laugh. “Why, can’t I say that you look good and mean it?”

Bucky tilts his head slightly, but then shakes it. “Nah. You’re messin’ with me.”

“No, I’m not,” you tell him earnestly, sitting up to look at him properly. At his chest, solid and whole and moving calmly. “I’m just … glad you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he frowns.

“I don’t know,” you say, tugging at your sweatband. “It’s been a weird couple of days.”

“Yeah.” He looks at you for another beat, then he shakes his head again and gets up. “Take the towel on the right, I already used the other one.”

“Thanks, Bucky.” You smile at him again, but he averts his eyes.

***

“I probably only have one reset left,” you say, trying to ignore the chill that goes down your spine. “Two, if we’re lucky and you two aren’t being stupid again.”

“I prefer heroic. You alright?”

And for a moment, you hesitate. Because even though the rest of the day has passed pretty much exactly the same as it did the first time up until this point, you’ve felt the doubts creeping in ever since you laid down for a nap in the early afternoon, tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, only to find your rings hadn’t regained even the slightest speck of green.

You’re terrified of the moment you’re going to have to use your powers, because what if with this large jump, you overdid it? What if this time, there won’t be any redos?

No. You’re made of stronger stuff than your doubts, you know that. Things are going to be okay.

You nod with newfound determination. “‘Course I am. It’s gonna be fine.” You flex your fingers to reassure yourself. “Just try not to get killed.”

It’s a plea more than anything else, but of course Bucky doesn’t respond, not to you. Not to it.

“Can’t say that, bud,” he says instead. “Twenty seconds.”

But who’s counting? You close your eyes and hold your breath, balling your hands into fists so tightly it hurts.

“I don’t wanna complain,” Sam says as the dust settles. “But I did expect this to be more difficult.”

“Don’t jinx it, Sam,” you say wrily.

“You’re such a pessimist.” He still raises his shield a bit higher. “Any more comin’, Bucky?”

“Doesn’t look like it.” Your heart twinges slightly, but you bite your lip. Your job is to make sure the mission gets done and everyone stays alive. Both of those things, not just one. “I’m right behind you.”

The lab looks exactly the same as it did the first time, small and crammed and somehow even gloomier today, though that’s probably just your imagination. Now that you know to look for it, you can tell the file cabinet on the far side of the wall doesn’t quite touch the floor, something that Bucky must’ve picked up on immediately.

You feign interest in the papers on the table again, shuffling them to keep your hands occupied. “You’re hovering again, Barnes.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

You turn, surprised at the question, to find Bucky’s gaze lingering on your hands. Not for the first time, you silently curse his perceptiveness. “Yeah,” you say, crossing your arms.

His jaw sets, but he doesn’t comment on your dismissiveness. He just moves to open the cabinet. You don’t find it in you to say anything, and so he doesn’t look quite as happy with himself. It doesn’t give you any pleasure.

When the downstairs lab fills with white jackets, your stomach is still threatening to drop, but you grit your teeth. This is exactly the kind of situation you’ve trained for; the most important thing now is remembering the order of things. Like a dance recital.

Duck to the side. Bucky steps right. Wait for Sam’s move. Shoot. You take another step back before the white jacket can drag you away by the throat again and kick them in the stomach until they stay on the ground, which is a way kinder fate than yesterday’d brought them. You shudder slightly as you turn to look at the hole in the ceiling. Three. Two. One.

The second explosion goes off at the same time as someone shouts your name, and you whip your head around only to be roughly shoved to the side and fall the ground. A large piece of ceiling lands right where you’d just been standing. Which is obviously a different place than yesterday because you knocked that white jacket unconscious. Wow, you’re an idiot.

Bucky seems to agree. “Whatever’s happening right now, you gotta snap out of it.” There’s something about the look on his face that makes your blood boil.

“What’s happening is that I’m trying to fix this,” you say sharply.

“By getting yourself killed?!”

“We need to get moving,” Sam’s voice says on the intercom before you have time to reply. “If you take care of the drive and these idiots, I’ll clear the tunnels for a way out of here!”

Bucky stares at you for another second as if he’s trying to decide on the thing that’s most wrong with you right now. You shove him off you.

He rolls his eyes and gets back on his feet, holding up his arm for Sam to throw the shield his way. By the time you see the white jacket aiming their gun, they’re already pulling the trigger. You throw up your hands.

A surge of emptiness goes through you, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Time seems to still for just the blink of an eye as Bucky’s head is thrown forwards.

And then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume. The room seems to wobble in front of you as you scramble to your hands and knees in bed, trying to get a proper breath of air.

“FRIDAY.” You almost flinch at the panic in your own voice. “FRIDAY, what day is it?”

“Today is Friday, July 4th.”

chapter two

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[dingdongitsbees]

“Gojo has a girlfriend!?” | Gojo x Reader Oneshot (Fluff)

Synopsis:  Yuuji has just overheard a phone call with Gojo and this seemingly mysterious woman who's coming to visit. He brings the news to the other students, adamant that their teacher has a girlfriend much to the disbelief of Maki, especially when the possibility of the girlfriend being you arises.

Ao3 Link

WC: 2.6k TW: mentions of death/murder Just send an ask to be added to Gojo the taglist! (specify if you don’t want angst etc)

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Guys, guys! Gojo has a girlfriend!” Yuuji announced, slamming the door open to the classroom.

“I refuse to believe that,” Nobara said rolling her eyes. “He couldn’t get a girlfriend even if he had the most romantic script in front of him.”

“I second that,” Maki said, not even looking up from her phone.

“Tuna, tuna,” Toge agreed.

“He’s not that bad-” Yuuji started.

“He’s an egotistical, immature man child who thinks dick jokes are the height of humour, what women would be attracted to that?” Maki glared.

“Then explain to me why I heard him call someone babe over the phone just now! And why I heard a girl’s laugh!”

“You say that like he doesn’t do that to everyone,” Nobara sighed.

“He said they were coming today anyway!” Yuuji insisted. “And he said “I love you” before he hung up!”

Now that raised eyebrows in the room.

“He… he really said that?” Maki said slowly for Yuuji just to nod enthusiastically in reply. “Then who the hell did he brainwash to be his girlfriend?!”

The group moved out of the classroom to outside as they argued leaving Megumi alone to slurp his noodles who was happy to be forgotten in the conversation since he already knew the answer. Watching the two adults yearn obviously after each other for years still scarred him, but he was happy you were coming today, even if you had the worst taste in men.

“Seriously who the hell is it!” Nobara yelled. “There’s no way its Utahime right?” The group was stood at the top of the stone stairs that led into the school, waiting for the mysterious visitor.

“She’d rather die,” Maki deadpanned.

“Mei Mei?”

“She’d go for someone richer.”

“Yuki?”

“She’s too busy for relationships, let alone with Gojo.”

“Shoko?”

“We would have noticed that by now.”

“A civilian?” Yuuji suggested.

“Like there’s any way he could explain the jujutsu world to a civilian without making it look like he was insane.”

Panda hummed from behind them. “(y/n)?”

Maki went still. “How dare you taint her name like that.”

Yuuji and Nobara looked to each other. “(y/n)?” they said in sync.

“She’s one of the only other special grade sorcerers,” Panda explained. “She was in Shoko and Gojo’s grade in school. She’s Gojo’s best friend.”

Yuuji and Nobara’s eyes widened.

“He has friends?” Nobara asked with a bit too much genuine shock.

“Somehow,” Maki spoke solemnly, pushing up her glasses. “But (y/n) is too cool to ever do that!” She looked to the sky with her outstretched hand dramatically. “I would never idolise and want to follow in the footsteps of someone if they were that foolish!”

“Bonito flakes!”

Nobara mouthed a ‘woah’ at Maki’s intensity, never seeing her look up to someone with so much passion.

A Megumi scratching his neck joined them from behind, now full enough of food to deal with what would soon happen.

“Who do you think it is?” Yuuji asked him.

Megumi sighed. “It’s-”

Panda whipped his head up, ears twitching, everyone falling silent. They strained their human ears and soon heard footsteps on the gravel coming towards them. Without warning a stick came hurtling at Maki’s head with deadly accuracy who froze before quickly cutting it in half, the pieces gliding past her head before the others could even blink.

“You’ve certainly improved Maki!” A happy voice spoke. Soon they saw a small woman with hands in pockets walking up the stone steps with a grin. “Yo yo yo,” you greeted.

“(y/n)!” Nobara and Yuuji gulped at Maki with, wondering how she would react to the attack. “How was my form? Was it alright?”

“Pretty good, pretty good,” you laughed, “I personally would have just side stepped to dodge it to retain some energy. But if you’re going to counter, I’d suggest putting your front leg a little more forward to help with your balance, but I’m sure you already knew that.” Offering Maki a knowing grin. “You reacted much faster than you did last time though that’s for sure. You’ll definitely have the Zenins kissing your ass in no time.”

Maki nodded sharply with the compliment and Nobara couldn’t help but notice the smile she was trying to keep down to remain in her collected self.

You looked over to Megumi who begrudgingly stepped forward to say hello, but the twitching corners of his mouth said otherwise. You gave him the ritual hair ruffle which he leant down into, knowing you had missed being able to reach down to tiny child Megumi to bother him whenever you wanted, but he still indulged in your methods of affection.

“You keep getting taller what a pain,” you whined.

“It is what happens when children reach puberty,” Megumi deadpanned.

“Beside the point,” you replied with the dismissive wave of a hand. “It’s of personal offense to me.”

You looked over to the other two first years blankly, taking them in, analysing their builds and posture. They gulped nervously under your critical stare. “Ah you two must be nail girl and Sakuna’s vessel, Nobara and Yuuji, right?” You smiled, disarming their defensive walls, nodding. “Nice to meet you! I’ll be coming up here a bit more to help teach now and then so I’ll get to know you two well soon.”

They beamed and you couldn’t help but feel your heart warm at the positivity that still remained in young sorcerers. Too many let their immaturity and childlike wonder, and frankly the happy and fun side of themselves, behind as soon as they realised how the world really was for shamans, you included, but the younger generation always gave you a kick in the gut to force you to remember. An unintended gesture that was greatly appreciated.

“But anyway,” you said, dropping you smile and sighing melodramatically. “Where’s the dipshit?”

“Who-?” Nobara and Yuuji started.

“Over by the track field,” Maki said, the other second years and Megumi pointing with her.

“Coolio,” you acknowledged and stuck your hands back in your pockets and started to walk towards the field before you heard Maki speak.

“Speaking of… Gojo,” she began, “Is it true he has a girlfriend?”

You would have laughed at the question had it not been so shocking to you that the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious. You glanced over to Megumi who had obviously not told them yet, who just looked at you with so much resentment for having indirectly causing what must have been a very long conversation before you arrived.

You looked back to Maki. “He does yeah… why do you ask?”

“Well, we’ve been wondering who it is, is she a sorcerer?”

You nodded.

“Someone we know?”

You nodded again, trying not to let the slowly rising smile read on your face.

“Well…” Maki huffed, “Who is it?”

You raised your fingers to your lips and feigned zipping them closed. “I’ve been sworn to upmost secrecy,” which was just entirely untrue but kept it much more fun.

“But you’re smart I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Maki nodded, absolutely defeated as you waved goodbye and headed to the track.

It didn’t take long to find him, his overwhelming aura hit you before his slender hands covered your eyes from behind. “Guess who!”

“I couldn’t even begin to guess, maybe my ex I still have feelings for, I would probably break up with my boyfriend for him, he’s very annoying.”

“You ass,” he replied taking his hands off which you just laughed at. “Your ex is a fucking asshole.”

“That fact is written across the universe in holy star dust.”

You finally took a good look at him, his stature towering over you as always, but always bringing the feeling of being safe like under a shelter in the rain instead of any kind of looming threat height can give you. You made eye contact through his black blindfold and couldn’t help but wish it was the old days where he wore his glasses so you could see his eyes more clearly, but then again, the old days didn’t only offer happy memories, it was why you were here in the first place.

The gang peered at you two from behind the bushes, watching every excruciating detail they could pick up from the interactions.

“Nothing too out of the normal yet,” Maki breathed, “That’s just ordinary friend things yeah? Yeah?” she questioned Nobara who nodded enthusiastically. Though the younger girl couldn’t help but notice the affection in your look at him, or the way her teacher’s body seemed to soften and let his usually unnoticeable guard down.

You sat down on the large concrete steps together, close enough to feel each other’s warmth. You two looked to the sky and watched as birds passed in a group of four, gliding through the air with no need to need flap their wings.

“How are you?” You asked.

“Straight to the point huh?”

You couldn’t help but smile a little but stayed silent for him to answer.

“I mean, it’s the same as every year isn’t it?”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

The events of last year still haunted you, and Satoru too, even though he was much better at hiding it. The two of you walking up to Suguru’s dying self, his hand clutched on his bleeding stomach as the two of you were just standing in shock, staring at the man that used to be your guys’ best friend. Satoru being the one to do the finishing blow because you were too much of a mess to do it. Gojo Satoru is good at hiding things, but those who knew him well enough knew sometimes the cracks were visible in his perfect façade.

He sighed. “You need to stop being right all the time, it gets frustrating.”

You chuckled and bumped your shoulder into his, internally grinning at his infinity being turned off for you even though it was nothing new. You took the opportunity to rest you head on his shoulder as the two of you looked up into the sky again in silence. Just taking in the slow heartbeat you could hear.

It was a few minutes before it was broken again.

“It feels weird to still feel like celebrating the birthday of a person I don’t know anymore, let alone of a person I killed,” he said honestly. “Like how is the engrained feeling of an arbitrary date that I properly celebrated only three times only mean more to me than it did back then when there’s no way to repeat the happiness of unaware teenagers.”

You hummed quietly, indulging him in his thoughts that you too felt. “I’m sorry I-”

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry I made you do it,” I said, “He was your best friend.”

“And he was yours too, I wasn’t going to make you put a childhood friend down like a dog.”

You nodded into his shoulder, going quiet. He looked down at you and you couldn’t help yourself but reach up to touch his blindfold. He didn’t resist and sat quietly as you raised it so you could see his eyes. Little, almost microscopic droplets, detailed his under eyelashes. You gave him a small smile which he returned with his own as you brushed his eyes gently. He grabbed your hand delicately and kissed the fingers tips one at a time while you watched with total calm and comfort taking over your body, snuggling closer into the crook of his neck.

The group watched in tight tension as they spied on the scene before them. Maki looked like she was going to rip out the bush, roots and all, with the way she was gripping onto the small branches like a lifeline.

“It was probably just something very personal, and because they are good friends they feel comfortable doing that, yes that’s it. And the “I love you” over the phone must have been a joke or said in a platonic way. Yeah, that’s it.” Maki said, springing off all the close enough to realistic conspiracy theories in her head.

No one had the heart to tell her what was plainly obvious, nor the bones strong enough to deal with her disagreement.

You didn’t need to say it, he already knew, but you said it anyway. “I missed you,” you said quietly, “Going abroad sucks.”

“You really need to look at the sweet shops there and pick up some souvenirs.”

“Sweets don’t numb things for everyone,” you laughed, “Sometimes food can’t replace people.” You grabbed onto his hand and laced it in yours, his huge hand enveloping yours like a little protector.

“Did you get hurt?” he whispered; he knew you were fully capable to come from most missions entirely unscathed, but it didn’t stop the worry. People he cared about going to missions alone had left many scars in varying forms.

“I’m alright, just a few bruises here and there mainly by my own hand, no biggie.”

He nodded, happy with the answer.

He stroked his thumb over the back of your hand, leaning his head onto yours. “I love you,” he whispered, barely loud enough to hear over the subtle wind.

You squeezed his hand. You’d never been good at words, stumbling over what you’re really trying to say without saying it outright, even if you already knew what you were meant to say, especially when it came time for vulnerable things, but Satoru knew that better than anyone. So, you felt his face widen into a smile.

He squeezed your hand back.

He looked down at you again, taking his blindfold off so you could admire the now rarer sight of his eyes. There was no other way to describe his eyes than beautiful. Their blues captivated you like a ship barely staying afloat in a storming ocean, barely surviving, only at the sea’s mercy. Many were terrified of them, they were whispered about among shamans young and old, and to be fair they held power. Power unattainable except for those lucky few that inherited it. But to you it had always felt like it was the eyes that inherited Gojo Satoru. It was Gojo Satoru that really made them powerful along with infinity, no one had ever come close, and it was doubtful anyone ever will, even if he thought he was raising students that he wanted to be better than him. At the very least it was definitely a high bar to beat. But when it was you, and just him, just Satoru, together, it was not the power you yielded to. It was the fact that it was Satoru, the boy and now man you had fallen in love with and who had allowed himself to fall down to fall in love with you. When you looked into the sea of blue that seemed forever changing, the only word you could use to actually describe them was Satoru.

You rose your head to meet with his lips softly, giving him a sweet kiss that made his mouth upturn into a smile. And to be fair half of it was definitely because of the group of students that were losing their minds behind a bush right now, but the other half you happily knew was because of you.

Gojo Satoru may be an egotistical, immature man child who thinks dick jokes are the height of humour sometimes, okay maybe a bit more than sometimes. But he was Gojo Satoru, the most imperfect perfect person you’d ever met, and you would stay by his side until you parted from the world, but you were sure it wouldn’t take long to find him in the next.

.

.

.

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[marvelyningreen]

Andante

[Peter Maximoff x reader (X-Men: Apocalypse)

Summary: When an injury brings Peter’s superhuman speed to a screeching halt, you figure he could use some company and cheering up.

Warnings: mild language

Notes: could be interpreted as romantic or platonic, if that’s more your speed]

           You hurry in from the rain, pausing just long enough to shake off your umbrella on the doorstep before closing the door behind you. You take a moment to wipe your shoes on the mat in an attempt to keep them from squeaking in the tiled halls of the mansion.

           The floorplan of this rebuilt version is practically identical to the original. The design and decor are much the same, too. Still… You feel a bit like a stranger, or maybe the mansion itself does.

           With everything else that’d happened, you hadn’t really had a chance to process your own experience that day. One second, you were trimming the hedges by the mansion’s front steps. The next, you were a hundred yards away, surrounded by the students and staff, and the mansion was exploding, and suddenly there in your midst was your childhood best friend – Peter Maximoff, all grown up.

           It’s funny how someone you knew for such a short time could’ve made such an impact on you. Really, you and Peter only knew each other for two years. It baffled the teachers how a quiet goody-two-shoes like you could be thick as thieves with resident mischief-maker Peter Maximoff, but you were practically inseparable. Perhaps it was partly due to some truth in the old saying about opposites attracting. But there was more to it than that. You and Peter shared a secret.

           Your sporadic telekinesis had nothing on Peter’s incredible speed, but he never seemed to mind. You were both just so happy to finally have someone who understood, who you didn’t have to hide from. Those two years were some of the best of your life.

           And years passed, and you grew up. You kept your abilities hidden, but you kept the memory of Peter with you. You’d think of him often, hoping that he was doing well, wherever he was. You never expected to see him again.

           Lost in thought, Hank hurries around a corner and nearly bowls you over. You both apologize to each other, laughing, and continue on your respective ways.

           It feels strange being back here after… Well, after everything. Everyone is doing their best to settle back into a routine, but it isn’t quite working yet. Maybe it won’t ever feel the same.

           The students either converse too loudly or are oddly subdued, with very little in between. Scott Summers’ group of close friends is never far from his side, and the faculty likewise seem to hover around the professor. It’s difficult not to dwell on how bad things had gotten, and how much worse everything could’ve been.

           And if it’s difficult for you, you can only imagine how it must be for the person you’re here to see. You pause to knock politely at his door, and the voice that answers sounds oddly terse.

           “You can come in.”

           You slip into the room to find Peter scowling morosely out the window. He’s still laid up in bed, his broken leg in a cast and propped up on a pillow. He’s got a wicked case of bedhead, and there are dark rings under his eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so tired.

           There’s an odd sound you can’t quite place – like the low hum of a fan or the purring of a cat – and you realize that it’s just Peter drumming his fingers restlessly on his nightstand at impossible speeds. He turns his head, and when he sees that it’s you walking through the door, his expression shifts into one of relief.

           “Oh, thank God,” he says, “I thought it was somebody coming to make sure I’m still “resting.” C’mere! Have a seat!”

           You grab a nearby chair and drag it closer to his bedside. You hate to see Peter cooped up and frustrated like this, but it’s good to see him, period. You don’t like to think about what could’ve happened to him in Cairo.

           When you look back up at Peter, his hair is smoothed down neatly. You snort involuntarily. If he's feeling well enough to be vain, it must be a good sign.

           “How are you holding up?” you ask.

           Peter slumps against his stack of pillows and groans dramatically, letting his head fall back.

           “I’m bored out of my mind. Do you know that they’re not letting me walk for a week? A whole week! Something about a risk of my leg not healing right if I move too fast on it. I said I’d walk like a normal person, but they apparently don’t trust me. Can you believe that? Don’t answer that. So I asked them just to drug me, knock me out for the rest of the week so I can get it over with, but they won’t do that either. This blows.”

           It’s hard not to smile, but it’s just so good to hear his voice. And, damn, people say you talk too fast. You’d forgotten that Peter was the true motor-mouth. Maybe he’s where you picked it up from. Though he still looks annoyed, Peter seems a little more relaxed after all that. Apparently he needed someone to vent to.

           He rolls his head to one side to look at you, and his brows furrow. “Hey, are you okay? You look tired.”

           “I look tired?” you say, “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

           “I haven’t, actually, because the mirror’s all the way over there, and I’m stuck in bed. You wouldn’t guess that having to sit alone with your own thoughts would wear you out, but apparently it does.”

           You’d had a feeling that the broken leg isn’t all that’s weighing on his mind. There’s still the whole Magneto business.

           You almost ask him about it, but you think better of it. Peter’s got a lot to mull over on that front. If he wants to talk about it, you’ll be there to listen, but you don’t want to bring it up when he doesn’t have any way to exit the conversation if he needed to. You decide to change the topic slightly.

           “Listen,” you say, “I never got a chance to thank you. You saved my life. You saved so many people. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t turned up at the mansion when you did.”

           Peter ducks his head a bit as he smiles, probably pleased to get a little recognition. There hadn’t been much time for gratitude in the moment. There hadn’t been much time for anything, really. And there certainly hadn’t been time to reconnect.

          You’d chased after Scott and his friends into the wreckage, trying to make sure none of them got hurt, and then things went from bad to worse. Suddenly, you found yourself tagging along with these immensely powerful teenagers on a fly-by-night rescue mission. It’s a good thing you did, too. Who else was gonna fly that getaway plane?

           Your own mutant abilities had never been particularly strong, not in a combat sense. You’d learned to be a pilot in an effort to make yourself useful. You just hadn’t expected it to pay off in a situation like that.

           “What can I say? Right time, right place… Right speed.” Peter’s grin turns rueful as he glances down at his busted leg. “I mean, by all rights, I should be thanking you, too.”

           You’d been trying not to dwell on that whole experience. It makes you feel a little sick to remember seeing that familiar silver streak darting around while Apocalypse was tossed in the air like a ragdoll, and then feeling the hope choked out of you as you heard Peter scream in pain.

           You don’t know how you managed to scramble down out of that second story ruin after Hank and Scott without hurting yourself any worse, but you did. You tried to shake it from your mind – the feeling of shrapnel and energy battering the telekinetic field you’d struggled to maintain around Peter and Mystique.

           You clear your throat, as though that’ll somehow clear out the memory as well. “Yeah… I guess sometimes you don’t know what you’re capable of until it’s literally do-or-die.”

           “I don’t just mean Cairo.” Peter shakes his head. “Well, that, too. But I don’t just mean that. I mean when we were kids. You always had my back.”

           Just before middle school, Peter’s family had moved away. You weren’t quite sure why, but it seemed like something had happened and Peter wouldn’t talk about it. He spent his entire last week in town with you, and on the very last day he hugged you tightly and promised that he’d come back and visit if he could.

           You never heard from him again.

           It was only years later that you’d put the pieces together – the Maximoffs’ sudden move, the well-dressed men turning up at the school and asking strange questions. Peter must’ve gotten caught using his powers, and his mother packed up the whole family and fled to protect him.

          “For weeks, months after we moved away, Mom was so scared. She wouldn’t let me out of the house. She thought that, any second, somebody was gonna show up and… I dunno, take me away, I guess. But I wasn’t worried. I was a cocky little shit, y’know?”

           You snort. “‘Was?’ Pretty sure that part of your personality hasn’t changed.”

           Peter laughs, but it fades quickly.

           “I heard that people came to our old school looking for me. And, hey, they never found me and Mom, so I figured you must’ve covered for me.”

           If there was one thing you were grateful to your younger self for, it was your instinctive distrust of these suspicious strangers.

           “I didn’t tell them anything,” you say, and Peter nods.

           “I knew you wouldn’t. But this one day, something hit me. What if they found out that you were a mutant, too?” Peter shakes his head, biting his lip. “I was terrified. I thought they were gonna find you, and… and I don’t know what I thought they’d do to you.”

           You feel cold all of a sudden. That thought hadn’t occurred to you. You’d been so focused on trying to keep Peter safe that you never once considered that you might be in danger, yourself. All those news articles about what Bolivar Trask had been up to ten years ago come flooding into your mind. You brush them aside and focus on what Peter’s saying now.

           “I wanted to run back there, make sure you were alright; maybe – I don’t know – take you with me and run away so we’d both be safe. I actually bought one of those AM radios, if you can believe it. Every night, I’d use the skip to listen to the news back there. I never heard anything about you, so I had to make myself believe it meant that you were okay. Otherwise I would’ve gone crazy, y’know?”

           He laughs again, but it sounds a little shaky.

           “Yeah, I know,” you say quietly. The air in the room feels sorta heavy now. Damn it, you’d come here to cheer Peter up, and it’s about time you get to it. You change topics with all the grace of a sledgehammer. “Speaking of none of this, I brought you something.”

           Peter immediately perks up. You rummage in your backpack and pull out a box of Nutty Buddy bars.

           “I remember these where your favorite when we were kids. I didn’t know if you still liked them, so I brought some Star Crunch, too. But you don’t have to-”

           Peter seems to blur for a moment, and suddenly both boxes are torn open and several wrappers are arcing their way into the trash can. Peter lets out a satisfied sigh. You might’ve remembered his favorites, but you’d forgotten his habit of absolutely inhaling them.

           “Okay, I guess I shouldn’t have worried,” you say.

           “What else you got in that bag?” Peter asks. “It can’t all be snack cakes. Unless it is…?”

           He’s joking, but you can tell he wouldn’t be disappointed if the answer was yes. You heft your heavily-loaded backpack onto the edge of the bed.

           “I figured you’d be bored, so I brought some books over in case you… What?”

           Peter never had a great poker face. You can tell that he’s definitely trying to smile, but that expression is a pained grimace. He laughs ruefully.

           “I might not be able to walk, but my hands still work. And my eyes. Did you know I can read a whole bookshelf in two hours?”

           “Oh…”

           You hadn’t thought of that. You look down, crestfallen. Of course, if something can be done at speed, that’s how Peter will do it. So that rules out all the other usual time-killers – crosswords or jigsaw puzzles or craft projects.

           But you remember Peter enjoying some things that can’t be sped through – live music being the main one. You start to wonder about the logistics of sneaking Peter out to take him to a concert or a play or something, but that’d be difficult to pull off without the professor catching you. Hmm…

           Peter’s brow furrows for a second, and then his expression brightens.

           “Hey, why don’t you read them to me?”

           You blink in surprise. “What, me?”

           “Yeah, you. Who else?”

           At this prospect, you’re suddenly rethinking everything. For all Peter might call himself a loser, you’d always seen him as infinitely cooler than yourself.

           “I don’t know. These are some of my own books, and I don’t know if you’ll actually like any of them.” You can feel yourself blushing preemptively, certain he’ll judge your taste in literature. “Maybe if I run to the library instead-”

           “No, don’t go!” Peter interrupts. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there, and I’m sick of being alone. Come on, read me your nerd books. Please?”

           He turns those big, pretty, puppy-dog eyes on you, and it’d be almost impossible to say no, even if you wanted to. Which you don’t. You sigh, smiling at him.

           “Alright, you win,” you say, “But you have to at least pick which one.”

           His face brightens into a full thousand-watt grin. “Done!”

           Peter blurs once more as he shuffles through your selection of books. Then suddenly he’s still again, tilting his head as he studies a stout little paperback.

           “Hey, didn’t they make a movie out of this?”

           He tosses it to you and settles back against the pillows, watching you expectantly. You pull up your legs to sit cross-legged on the chair and take a deep breath. Here goes.

           “‘Carl Conrad Coreander – Old Books.’ This inscription could be seen on the glass door of a small shop…”

           You read on, interrupted only by the odd quip or question from Peter. You hardly mind his commentary. You’re just happy that the story seems to be entertaining him. He’s a far cry from the agitated ball of nerves he’d been when you walked in.

           You glance over at the clock and see that two hours have gone by. You wonder if Peter would mind you taking a quick intermission to give your voice a break. But as you turn to ask him, you fall silent.

           Peter’s head is lolled back on the pillows, his eyes closed, his lips parted slightly. His chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths – sound asleep.

           You smile fondly at him. Poor guy. He really must’ve been exhausted.

Telekinetically, you switch off the lamp. The atmosphere in the room softens to the grey light filtering in from the rainy day outside. There. That’s more conducive to sleeping.

           You make note of the page you’d left off on and close the book, picking up your copy of Howl’s Moving Castle instead. Moving as carefully and quietly as you can to keep from waking Peter, you make your way over to a more comfortable spot on the window seat.

           You’d hate for Peter to think you’d run out on him after he fell asleep. You’ll stick around. And if he needs anything when he wakes up, you’ll be here. That’s what old friends are for.

[kareofbears]

margin of error

Sophia knows a lot, but that does not mean she understands much of anything at all.

Or, Sophia struggles to grasp why Akira and Ryuji don't follow her predictive algorithm.

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

Sophia knows a lot.

She can tell you almost anything in the known world in an instant. Calculate the radius of the sun. Who won Best Picture three years ago. The outfit to wear when you need to 'dress to impress.' Just yesterday, she was able to find them a bath, a takoyaki restaurant, and an overnight camping site within 0.3 milliseconds. That’s not very many seconds.

Sophia knows a lot, but that does not mean she understands much of anything at all.

She’s quiet while she’s propped on the phone stand, watching the rest of them lounge in the RV. There’s a shape to the interior that wasn’t there before—where it had been pristine when they had first gotten it, now it’s littered with crumbs and instant-food packaging despite Makoto’s half-hearted attempts at scolding them for it. Empty surfaces are filled with knick-knacks, stuffies and a plastic ramen bowl rattling gently along with the RV.

There’s a rare lull amongst them, a moment of quiet. Most of them were napping away the road, gently snoring and bodies jostling whenever a pothole hits, oblivious to the scenery that passes by. Only the soft tunes of pop music from the front and the hum of the engine broke the quiet.

Other than Makoto, there were only two people awake: Akira, scribbling in his journal, and Ryuji, watching him do it. They sat across from each other in the booth, with Ryuji’s chin propped against his hand.

Probability and pinpoint accuracy is what she excels at, and being able to apply them to her friends excites her. Not to mention, she hasn’t been wrong yet.

Idly, she runs the numbers—according to the data she’s collected from spending time with them, the silence will be broken by Ryuji within approximately two minutes. Pulling up a time from within Akira’s phone, she waits eagerly.

A minute passes, and then another. And another. Akira is still scribbling in his neat penmanship and Ryuji is still watching him doing it, unspeaking.

Frowning, she double-checks her calculations. No errors that she can see. It seems that he simply does not want to speak. This is surprising, and very unlike him. He is not usually this quiet. In the Metaverse, he is by far the loudest of them; calling on his Persona’s name can often leave her own ears ringing.

The real world does not stray from that data. His voice is clear in crowded areas, helpful in guiding their big group throughout bustling cities. He is often shushed by the girls when they are trying to sleep at night—Futaba even goes as far as to kick the ceiling from her bunk bed.

The data is strong and sure. There should not be a reason that she should be wrong in this assumption unless there’s a confounding variable that she had missed.

Akira looks up and catches his eye. “Am I boring you?” he asks quietly.

Ryuji shakes his head, grinning. “Couldn’t be happier,” he whispers back.

Sophia’s about to ask when Makoto cuts her off.

“Wake up everyone. We’re here.”

—

“Okay,” Akira calls. His voice isn’t raised, despite the crowded street of downtown Sendai, but they all straighten up. “We’re probably not going to spend too much time here, especially once we take over the Jail. Grab what you need now—snacks for the trip. Shopping. Souvenirs. Frozen pineapple. Any questions?” Yusuke raises his hand. “Yes, I’ll pay for you.” The hand falls back down, relieved.

“Cool. How about we meet back here…” he squints at the large clock hanging on the wall, hand blocking out the blaring sun. “In an hour?”

A chorus of agreements rolls through them as they rush out, excited to explore a new city. “Good speech,” Sophia pipes up from his hand. “Do you do them often?”

“I try not to,” he yawns. His thick black hair is even more unruly than usual, glasses barely hiding the light blue that’s beginning to form underneath his eyes. “Most of the time, they can handle themselves fine. All they need is a schedule and some rules to work with.”

When she doesn’t answer, Akira brings his phone up. “What? Did I say something?”

“It’s because she’s worried about you, you moron,” a disgruntled voice says.

Akira’s gaze flickers towards it. “You’re still here?”

“Of course I am,” Ryuji says. “You really think I’d leave without saying goodbye? Glad I didn’t either, cause you look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Still pretty, though. No worries about that part.” He shoves his hand deep in his pocket, stray yen clinking against each other as he rummages. After a moment, he throws something at Akira. “Catch.”

He plucks it out from the air with ease. “Car keys?” he asks, surprised.

“Grabbed them from Makoto before she ran off for stationery shopping.” Ryuji reaches forward, gently turning Akira’s head this way and that, frowning. “I told you to quit staying up so late. You’re exhausted.”

“I am not.”

“He is,” Sophia refutes. “Last night, he had approximately four hours of sleep, with only four minutes of that being REM sleep.”

“I told you. She’s even bringing up computer stuff now.”

“I think you are thinking about RAM, Ryuji.”

“Whatever,” he shakes his head. “Look, just head to the RV, get some shut-eye. You can finally sleep in a proper bed that isn’t an overheating tent with three sweaty dudes and a cat. Oh, and trade phones with me.”

He hands it over without hesitation, sliding Ryuji’s phone into his own pocket. “Why?”

“You have the grocery list in here, yeah? Not to mention, I don’t want Sophia getting bored while you nap it up.” He looks down at her. “Hi, by the way.”

“Hi!”

Akira still doesn’t seem convinced. “But I promised Yusuke—”

“Who’s with Ann now, shopping like they’d die if they didn’t get the perfect skirt to fit her next shoot,” he says, uncompromising. “Chill. It’s fine. We’ll survive an hour without Joker keeping an eye on us.”

They stare each other down for a long moment with Sophia watching. She does not need to run the numbers on this one; Akira will not allow himself to go back to the RV.

To her surprise, he relents. “Twenty minutes.”

Ryuji scoffs. “We’ll see about that. You suck at waking up.”

“Shut up.” And then, quieter, “Thank you.”

“You know I got your back.”

He yawns once more, slowly walking back to their car. “Sophia, please make sure that when he gets the Pocky to get the strawberry one. Futaba won’t eat anything else. And also that Haru wanted doilies to make the place look nicer. White, if you can find them.”

“Roger that,” she replies, distracted. How is she wrong again? This is troubling.

“My hoodie’s in my bag if you get cold!” Ryuji calls out. Akira throws him a thumbs up without looking back. “Jeez, that guy. He’s gonna run himself to the ground before he’s thirty, I swear. Like some geezer with a bad back but with really good hairline or something.”

An old man with a thick head of hair shoots him a glare as he passes by them. Ryuji laughs, high-pitched. “Yikes, that was awkward. Let’s get out of here, we need to hit up the grocery store before they run out of carrots.”

Sophia doesn’t answer, too deep in her thoughts and running endless calculations.

—

It’s impossible for her to get a headache, but her code is trying its best to give her one.

Two mistakes now. That isn’t allowed to happen. She’s lucky that they were both relatively small errors, but it can easily become a bigger problem. What can she do?

Luckily, that had a very simple answer.

“Ryuji?”

“Hmm?” He peels his eyes away from scrutinizing the oranges in his hands, the wires from his earphones swaying when he does. After one too many strange looks when he talks to nothing, it was just better to act like he was on a phone call. “Yeah?”

“I have a question.”

“What am I, a teacher?” he snorts. “If you got a question, go ahead. Friends can do that.”

That’s right. They’re friends, and friends have trust in one another. Sophia jotted that down as lesson number forty-eight, thirteen days ago.

“Okay,” she says. Questions float around her, and she picks the one that’s giving her the most stress. “If I was not as useful as you think I am, would we still remain friends?”

The orange tumbles out of his grip, and he rushes to catch it before it hits the ground. “Wha—!” he stutters out. “Duh! Obviously! What the—where the hell did that come from? Did we do something to think that we’d just ditch you like that?” he lifts the phone so that she was eye-level with him. “Be honest,” he says seriously, quickly. “Did I say something to hurt your feelings? I do that sometimes, and I’m working on it, and I know that’s no excuse—”

“You did not say anything to hurt my feelings,” she says before he spirals even further. “In fact, I do not have feelings for you to hurt.”

Relief blooms on his expression, and he sags his body against the fruit display. “Okay, good. Good. Thought I was gonna get a heart attack. I’d be pissed at myself if I did, and I just know Akira would give me so much shit.” He sighs, ridding himself of panic before giving him her full attention. “So what’s up?

“Sir…” an employee shuffles towards them, hands shaking knees knocking against each other. He is afraid, she notes, but of what? “I’m sorry, but it’s against store policy to lean on the product. Please try to understand.”

“Oh, shoot!” Ryuji exclaims, straightening up. “Sorry, man. I didn’t even realize. I think I squished an orange, but I’ll buy it so your boss doesn’t give you hell for that one.”

The employee blinks. “You would?” he says, shocked. “That would be great, actually. Thank you so much!”

“Don’t sweat it,” he waves it off. Tugging the shopping cart, he places Sophia where they’d normally put babies. “Hope he doesn’t get in trouble. I feel kinda bad.”

She thinks for a moment. “Ryuji, why was that man afraid?”

Swiftly, red rushes to his cheeks. “That obvious? Aw, man.”

“I don’t know if it was obvious, but all the signs were there,” she says, watching as he ducks his head, embarrassed. “What is happening? I do not understand.”

“It’s just—” his eyes shift sideways, meeting the eye of a young girl. Immediately, she directs her gaze downwards. “I look really scary to people.”

“You do?” It isn’t in her program to doubt, but she is rather skeptical. During the entire trip, he has been nothing but kind to her. Yes, there are times when he has arguments with others in the group, but more often than not it’s him that’s being teased rather than the other way around. “Why? You aren’t even that tall.”

“Ouch?”

“I’m just saying that you are not scary to me, so I don’t really understand why other people would be.”

He sighs, picking up a box of miso unseeingly. “It’s a combination of a lot of things. My hair’s bleached, and people usually see that as like, punk or whatever. My posture sucks and my voice is loud.” Shrugging, he throws it in the cart. “It doesn’t really bug me though. At least that means strangers usually don’t bother the group, cause they think I’ll kick their ass.”

“And would you?” Sophia crosses off miso. Only bandages are left on the list, but the cart is filled with snacks, sodas, and a small cactus. “‘Kick their ass?’”

“No way. If I did, my mom would kick my ass, and I can’t pull that shit twice in a lifetime.” Pushing the cart, they slowly meander through the aisles, occasionally looking at what’s on sale. Ryuji tosses in rainbow marshmallows, and after a moment, reluctantly puts it back.

“But you know,” he says eventually. “If someone was bothering the group, it’s not as if I’d just let it happen.”

She considers his answer. “You are tough,” she concludes. “But not scary.”

“Uh, yes,” he says, unsure. And then, with more conviction, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Got it. ‘Ryuji is tough, but other people are terrified of him.’ I will make a note of that.” He looks like he wants to say something, but she keeps going. “Synonyms for ‘tough��: robust, stalwart, and strong. Would you say that’s accurate?”

He laughs, disbelieving. “No idea what the first two meant, but the third one isn’t right.”

“Why not? You can fight Shadows. Your muscle ratio is high. One time, when Futaba couldn’t unscrew her water bottle, you did it with no problem.”

“Because, Sophia,” Ryuji picks up gummy worms, and turns to her with pleading eyes. When she shakes her head, he puts it back on the shelf with a grimace. “Strength isn’t always about muscles and who can kill what. It’s more than that.”

It seems as though he doesn’t want to speak about this anymore, but the topic is too interesting to stop here. “Explain, please.”

“It’s...it’s like mental strength,” he says begrudgingly. “Like if someone failed an exam they studied real hard for, mental strength would help them get through a tough situation like that. Like Akira.”

“Akira has high mental strength?”

“Oh, the highest out of all of us without a doubt. The world could explode and he’d be all—” Ryuji lowers his voice by an octave. “‘Here’s what we can do,’ and then fix it somehow. That’s just the kind of guy he is. All plans and no fear.”

All plans and no fear is a good way of describing Joker. “And you aren’t like that?”

“No way. Have you ever seen me have a plan in my life? I’m more of an ‘act before I can talk myself out of it’ person. Usually works out fine in the end. Besides, he does it enough for the both of us.” His eyes light up. “Do you think if I get the panda bandages, it would work better in the Metaverse? Cause of the brain stuff?”

“I think so, as long as it makes people think it works better.”

“Great.” Ryuji tosses it in with the rest. “And I think we got everything! Let’s head out. If we’re lucky, we can grab some ice cream before we meet up with the rest of them.”

“Good job! But you may want to consider removing the orange soda. Makoto is already unhappy with how much junk food you are always eating.”

“Fine. I’m keeping the cactus though.”

It was only when they’re all sleeping back in the RV when she realizes that she never got to ask him her actual question. Actually, she ended up with even more questions than when she began.

Maybe she’ll have better luck asking Akira instead.

—

They, or rather Akira, have their knees buried in a patch of grass in the middle of Sapporo with a small pile of four-leaf clovers by his ankles when she decides it would be appropriate to ask him.

“Akira, can I ask—” she pauses, and tries again. “I have a question.”

His face is so close to the ground that even the dirt would realize that his glasses don’t have prescription, and people are shooting him worried looks that he completely ignores. “Shoot.”

“Actually, I have many questions, and I’m hoping you’ll answer all of them as honestly as you can in order to have the most accurate data possible.”

“Research?”

More often than not, Akira has been giving her information about the world that she does not have access to. Slang terms that Futaba yells out in frustration, Ann’s tendency to jump from one topic to the next with little regard to who she’s talking to. It’s all confusing to Sophia, so she makes sure to memorize all of these instances and bring it to him for clarification.

“Sort of,” she says. “Some of my predictions have been off lately, and I am trying to figure out why.”

“Sure. Oh, another one.” Gently, he plucks it from the soil and gently places it with the others. “For Haru. Apparently, she’s really struggling with economics, so hopefully this helps her out next semester.”

“How many more?”

“Four,” he replies. “Yusuke, Sojiro, Akane, and Ryuji.”

She frowns. “Ryuji already has one.”

“He’s going to need more than one.” Akira turns to her, distressed. “Entrance exams are coming up.”

“Oh.”

“Yup,” he turns back to his task. “Anyway, you had a question?”

“Right,” she says, clearing her throat: a sign of taking a more serious tone. “Why are you scared of Ryuji?”

Akira freezes. Sophia waits patiently. But after a moment, then two, then five, there is still no reaction from him. And then slowly, he faces her with a blank expression.

She has not known Kurusu Akira for very long—only a few weeks in fact. But in that time, she feels that she has come to learn a lot about him. For instance, he does not like pears. He also finds grocery shopping relaxing, and he would die for his friends. Another thing she has learned from him is that he is very quiet; even in the Metaverse, amidst the explosions and gunshots, he does not yell. It is not as if he has nothing to say, but rather he would rather express himself through gestures and the odd comment here and there. He is much happier to let the people around him carry the conversation for him.

Shock racks through her as he bursts out laughing. His shoulders move up and down as laughs pour out of him uncontrollably. “What—?” he tries, pushing his glasses atop his head. It’s almost hidden amongst his thick, black locks. “Did you seriously ask if I was afraid of Ryuji? Sakamoto Ryuji? Blond guy, helps out in the Metaverse? My best friend?”

“Um.” This was not what she was expecting, despite having no expectations to begin with. “Yes.”

He sighs, content. “I really have to thank you, Sophia.” Akira brings his glasses back to his nose, the corners of his mouth quirked up. “That was really good. Haven’t laughed that hard since Yusuke thought Italy was near Mexico.”

She tilts her head sideways. “I was not joking.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He sits up, crossing his legs over each other, giving her his full attention. “Tell me why you thought I was scared of him.” Even as he’s sobered up, he can’t quite finish the sentence without smiling.

“My predictions have been off lately,” she says, a wrinkle between her brows. “This is normal—predictions by their nature cannot always be right. However, I’ve noticed that they’re incorrect more often lately. I ran the data, and these errors are related to two things:” Sophia brings her hand to the screen so that he can see properly. “You and him, as a unit. Individually, there doesn’t seem to be any errors. It is specifically when you are being measured together that creates mistakes. My prognosis on everyone else in the group creates more stable and accurate results.”

Sophia twists her hair in her hands. “The only reason it would be wrong is because of a confounding variable. Maybe there’s something between the two of you that others do not have. So I thought that answer—”

“Was fear,” he finishes. There’s an odd tone in his voice that she doesn’t comprehend. His gray eyes, sharp but never unkind. “I see where you’re coming from. But, and I can swear on this fact—it isn’t fear. I am not, nor will I ever be, afraid of him.”

She deflates. Wrong again. “And he’s not afraid of you?” she asks, out of desperation than anything.

Akira thinks for a moment. “Do you remember when I was cooking, and Ryuji went in to smell the broth, and knocked the whole thing over and onto my suitcase?” She nods. She had taken many pictures of that moment. “He felt really guilty, but he wasn’t scared of my reaction. He was more scared that he had ruined my stuff. You know what I mean?”

“I think I do.”

He bops the top of his phone a few times, an odd resemblance of patting her head. “Cool.”

Sophia stares at the road past their garden of clovers. Cars speed forward, too quick for her to focus on what the driver looks like. It’s hot today, but she doesn’t feel it. She runs her data one more time. “Akira, do you love Ryuji?”

His hands do not pause. “I love all my friends,” he answers simply.

—

At the end of the day, it does not matter if her attempts at predicting the future are fruitless. If she is in fact humanity’s companion, her code makes sure of one thing above all else: to help humanity with any of their endeavors.

That’s a tall order, especially when there are 7,874,965,825 humans within that humanity at this moment. Sophia is only one being, and realism is etched into her. To make things simple, she gave herself a domain of discourse. A sample size. Narrowing what she can do, and who she can help. The entirety of humanity then, at least in Sophia’s mind, falls under the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.

Sapporo is freezing. Frosty. Crisp. Chilly.

“Fucking cold!” Ryuji shivers, jogging around them in an effort to get warm. “I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.”

“Even with the space heaters on, it seems that the winter isn’t interested in going anywhere,” Makoto says. She’s standing uncomfortably close to Ann, trying to leech off of her inherent heat. Actually, she wasn’t the only one—Haru is also inching her way to her. “It should probably get better once we start moving. Good thing we won’t be here long.”

Yusuke nods, unperturbed. “Yes, this should be a quick run. We’re just here to collect a desire gone astray, yes?” It seems that the ice does little to bother him. “Oracle, can you find its location?” No response. “Oracle?”

He glances to the ground, sighing when he finds her on the ground, eyes closed and breathing deeply. “Wake up,” he says, nudging her with his boot. When she doesn’t move, Yusuke throws an exasperated look at Akira.

Reluctantly, he nods. “Yeah, yeah, I got her,” he says, summoning Queen Mab. Instantly, the temperature seems to rise, just a little bit. Scooping her up, Akira shakes her roughly like a particularly malicious sack of flour. “Wake up, your space heater’s here.”

“This may be a quick run,” Haru says. “But it doesn’t mean we should take this any less seriously. Someone’s desire got lost on its way back, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, that sounds—Mona, get off my leg—about right.” Ann squints her eyes along the horizon. “It’s far, right? If we start moving now, we can probably work off the frost on our skin.”

“Yeah, it’s about…” Futaba yawns as Akira sets her on her feet. “Twenty-minute walk? Ten-minute run, but unless you want me slipping and turning the ice red, we’re gonna want to slow down.”

Akira touches his mask. “Agi.” A wave of heat rushes over them, and she sighs, grateful for the respite. “Hopefully that helped a little. But it won’t last long, and we shouldn’t waste energy warming up. Quick recap—someone lost their desire, we’re here to make sure it gets back. Our top priority is getting that desire back as quick as possible. Questions?”

Sophia raises her hand.

“Yup?”

“Did you say top priority?”

“Yes, I did say top priority.”

“Understood!” she chirps, making a note in her head. It was hard to concentrate when she felt like her insides were freezing up.

Another hand shoots up.

“Noir?”

“I don’t have a question. I just think you’re doing a wonderful job.”

“Thank you, Noir. Always a pleasure.” He looks around, nodding. “Alright. If that’s it, then let’s do this thing.”

They all move ahead, wary of their footing. Sophia frowns as she scuttles forward, scared of being left behind. There is no room for error here. If she feels that she is not useful in the real world, then she can at least utilize her talents here. And the first step to doing that is to make sure she is doing two things:

1) Not slow

2) Won’t trip

After a while, she looks up and feels her eyes bulge. How did they get so far already? Sophia can hardly see them anymore, especially with the slight fog that’s beginning to emerge. She has to get there faster.

Failed step number one already. For once, she’s glad she wasn’t hardcoded with emotions, or else humiliation would be overwhelming. Quickening her pace, she’s determined to do this correctly. One foot, then the next. One foot, then the next. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left—

She slips.

With a gasp, she moves to twist her body so that it wasn’t her head that would take the impact, and closes her eyes shut.

Just before she slams into the ice, arms grab her torso, swinging her forward. “Whoa there, shorty!”

Ryuji uses the momentum to swing her onto his back, and she latches around her neck, bewildered. “You okay? Almost got knocked out before any Shadow got to us.”

“Yes,” she replies, breathless. “Thank you for saving me. That would have been bad.”

“No prob!” he marches onward as if he wasn’t carrying an entire human being on his back while treading through sleet.

“...You can settle me down if you’d like.”

“I would not like.” He grins, boots finding matte ice with ease. “I kinda love carrying you like this. Not like I can do this in the real world, can I? ‘Sides, Futaba would chew my head off if I tried it with her.”

“Have you?”

“Maybe.”

She laughs as they finally reconvene with the rest of them. When Akira turns to them, his expression softens with relief. “All good?”

“All good,” Ryuji says. “Nothing Sophie and I can’t handle.” He raises his fist at her, and she bumps it enthusiastically. Lesson twenty-three: never refuse a fist-bump. It’s one of her favorites.

“Stop, stop, stop, stop!” Futaba calls out from beside Ann, arms were linked as if they were strolling through a park, and not a Shadow-infested land. “I said stop!”

“We heard you the first time!” Morgana yowls. “Are we here?”

“We’re close. Kinda weird though.” She smacks the side of her goggles a few times impatiently. “Nothing’s showing up.”

“Lucky!” Ann whoops. “Let’s get this over with and get some gelato!”

Rounding the corner of an empty street, Yusuke points forward to a glowing heart, beating in time to its pulsing light. “That’s it, I take it?”

“I can get it.” Sophia pats Ryuji’s shoulder, and he lets her down. “That way, we can finish this as soon as possible.”

She runs forward, eager.

“Wait—!” Futaba cries out from behind her. “We’re getting ambushed!”

As she says it, footsteps surround them, the clanging of weapons and the grunts of Shadows appearing out of nowhere. She starts to run faster, terrified of slipping but pushes on anyway. She can do this.

“Shit,” Akira hisses. “Sophie, come back here!”

Sophia ignores him, the Desire almost in her reach when she feels it. A cold breeze, impossibly colder than the temperature before, almost seems to pierce through her skin. She did not need to turn around to know what it was—every cell in her body is screaming it for her.

A curse. A strong one that would have no problem wiping her out like fly on the RV’s windshield wiper.

Would she at least be able to save the Desire? Even if she ceases to exist? Would it be worth it then? It should be, since this is what she was made for.

Something solid shoves her from behind, and she gives out a yell before hitting the ground, hard.

“What…?” she mutters, disoriented. Somehow, she isn’t dead, or even near death. Shaking her head, she grasps for the Desire in front of her before turning around.

Instantly, her heart stops. The Desire in her hand continues to pulse steadily as she stares down at Ryuji, collapsed on the ground.

“Skull?” she whispers. Leaning down, she can still hear his breathing, though it’s faint. Her hand reaches out, before she remembers. Top priority. The Desire needs to get to Joker first.

The ground begins to rumble, and Sophia looks up in time to see an arch of glowing white explode. Every Shadow is eviscerated, their ashes scattering violently at the aftershock of wind that follows from the impact. Concrete cracks, snow blows away. Without a doubt, it’s an attack from a Persona user, but she has no idea who it came from.

As the dust settles, stray bits of ice falling from the sky like hail, Akira shoots out from the fog. He’s moving faster than she’s ever seen him, and there’s a desperation to his movements that throws her off-guard. Maybe he didn’t see yet? Sophia steps forward.

“Joker!” she calls out when he gets closer, thrusting her hand forward. “I got the Desire!”

He rushes past her without a blink.

Akira skids to his knees. “Ryuji!” When there’s no answer, he pulls Ryuji to his knees, resting his head on his lap. Akira presses his fingers against the pulse on his neck, concentrating intensely. Then he grits his teeth. “I can work with this.”

More footsteps. Familiar ones. “Dammit, Joker!” Morgana says. “You can’t just throw around attacks like that, especially with such weak enemies. You know how draining that spell is.”

He ignores him. Akira removes Ryuji’s mask with great care, setting it aside, before touching his own. “Aid me, Sarasvati.”

“Joker?” she tries.

A floating woman donned in green with a delicate instrument in her long fingertips appeared from the fibers of his mask, her expression kind and tender.

“Joker.”

Healing power flows through his hands, so potent that it glows green. Sweat pours from his brow, and his wrist begins to tremble with effort.

“Joker!”

“What, Sophie?” he rounds on her, gray eyes intense.

“I got the Desire!” she announces triumphantly.

A beat passes. And then another. It was as if there was never even a deafening battle not one minute prior.

When Akira finally speaks, his voice is low. “Panther, take Sophie away please.”

Her breathing stops. She could not inhale the air even if it was demanded of her. Akira turns back to Ryuji, but Sophia’s eyes stuck to him—like she was hypnotized, cemented to the back of his head, unable to look away. Every inch of her body is numb, but none of it has anything to do with the cold.

Ann gently takes her hand, hot as iron against hers, and takes the Desire in the other. “Come on, Soph. Let’s go for a walk, huh?”

She lets herself be led away, blank and unseeing, a part of her staying wishing to stay behind to...what? She didn’t know. There’s so much she doesn’t know.

They keep walking, rounding street corners, quietly passing underneath frozen lamp posts. Sophia wasn’t sure where they were going, but she didn’t bother to ask. Eventually, they duck underneath a railing, Ann covering her head to make sure she doesn’t accidentally bang her skull against the metal. When they straight up, she blinks.

“A heater?”

“Yeah,” Ann sighs, flopping down on a toppled column as if it were a sofa. “I figured if we were going to talk, you might as well stop shivering during that time.” At her words, Sophia realizes how hard she was shaking. Ann pats the spot beside her. “Sit. Nothing a little girl talk can’t fix.” She does.

At her silence, Ann hums. “Cold, isn’t it? You guys haven’t stopped complaining since we got here. I’m super lucky that Carmen’s here to help me. Warms me up even better than this heater, if you can imagine that. Completely different from the real world, where we feel like we’re going to burst into flames any second.” She yawns. “But god, there’s no one in all of Japan that can run his mouth about the weather like Ryuji.” Sophia clenches her fist, but she keeps going, speaking almost wistfully. “I mean, he’s just so loud, you know? Like, how many times have we driven by cows on this trip, and he’d literally wake us all up just to show us? Not to mention, he eats up all the food and snores like crazy. God, one time I invited everyone over at my place, and he just slept in my bed when he got tired! Who does that?”

Ann sighs. “But man, I’ve never met someone more devoted to his friends than him. Sometimes, he’d even give ‘Kira a run for his money, the way he’d just drop everything and run to where trouble is. Day or night, that idiot would show up on your doorstep the minute you shoot him a text, wearing the most ridiculous pajamas you’ve ever seen,” she scoffs. “He started the Thieves with Akira, you know? All gung ho about justice and stuff, you should’ve seen it. And he had the spine to back it up, too.” She smiles, just a little. “Don’t tell him, but I think he’s really, really cool.”

A drop of water hits Sophia’s wrist. And another. And another, until her vision blurs and her chest is heaving. “I just—” she sobs without restraint. “I was just trying to help. I just want to be useful and do what I was made to do, and Akira said from before that this—this was the top priority, and I even made sure, so I asked, but when I finally got the Desire and I was so sure that I’d finally done something right...” the image of Akira’s cold gaze makes her flinch, hard. “He’s just so mad at me, Ann. And Ryuji—” she chokes on his name like a curse, her tongue tumbling over it as if it were getting caught in a lie. “He protected me from before, but he said he was tough, so I thought it was okay since the Desire was the top priority but he got hurt because of me.”

“I don’t even know what I’m feeling, or why I’m crying, or why you’re being so nice to me even though I know I did something bad! I just—” Sophia buries her face in her hands, muffling her scream. “I just don’t understand anything!”

Warm hands rub her back. “I know,” Ann says quietly. “You’re trying your best. We all get that, and we all think you’re doing an A-plus job.” She pauses. “Sophia, Ryuji didn’t take the hit for you because he was thinking about the Desire. He did it because he didn’t want to see you hurt.”

That makes Sophia peek up. “But that was the top priority, wasn’t it?”

“Uh-huh, but that wasn’t his heart’s top priority.” Ann pokes her temple. “That whole logic and calculation thing you have going on is good and stuff, but the thing about the human heart is that you can’t always choose why you do things, or how you react in certain situations. I bet you anything that he totally forgot that we were even looking for this thing when he pushed you,” she waves the beating heart in her hand, still glowing. “And that’s also why Akira got a little mad at you from before.”

She deflates. “He hates me,” she mumbles, feeling her insides churn uncomfortably.

“That boy doesn’t have the time in his schedule to hate anyone,” Ann reassures her. “He’s just...really, really terrified.”

“But why?” Sophia’s starting to despise that word. “He already knew that he was okay. Why would he still be worried?”

Ann looks up, thinking. “You really love and care about Ryuji, right?”

Love was still a foreign concept to her, but for once the answer came forth with ease. “Yes.”

“Take that feeling, that dense, little ball of love and adoration in your tiny body, and multiply that by about eighteen million. That’s probably about the range of what Akira feels about him.”

She quickly runs the numbers. “Whoa.”

“Yeah. Kinda scary, huh?”

It is scary. With numbers this high, she can only begin to imagine what it felt like for Akira to think that he might be seriously hurt, or even worse, dead. All because of Sophia.

“Hey now, I know that look!” Ann flicks her forehead. “I don’t want you to get all mopey about this. You said it yourself—he’s a tough guy. The toughest there is, but don’t tell him that. It’ll go straight to his empty head.”

She stands with exuberance, stretching. “Alright, I think we’re about done here. How we feeling? You ready to go back?”

No. Her heart speeds up at the thought of going back, her shoulders tensing in on itself, but somehow it would be worse to stay here. “I’m ready.”

“That’s what we like to hear!” Ann cheers. “No chickening out now, okay? You can do this.”

“I can do this.” Sophia repeats, and then, louder: “I can do this!

“Yay! And Sophie?” she looks up in time to see Ann giving her a warm look. “Just because you don’t understand something, doesn’t mean we love you any less. You are allowed to be confused and make mistakes. Do you understand that?”

Sophia smiles wide. “I understand.”

—

They were a block away from the rest of the group when Akira emerged from the fog. With his black attire and dark hair, he could have looked like a picturesque horror movie figure, but somehow his expression ruined that facade the moment she saw it.

“I’m going on ahead,” Ann says when Sophia stops in front of him. “Someone has to make sure Futaba doesn’t sleep on us again.”

“Thanks,” he answers. Then, to Sophia, “Hi.”

“Hi, Joker.” She’s been practicing her speech the entire way back, her points all lined up in her mind, all leading up to the big apology. “I—”

“Pause,” he cuts in, and she shrinks. Is he still mad? She can’t read his expression. He kneels in front of her, squinting, and it suddenly shifts to horror. “Did...did you cry? Did I make you cry?”

“No,” she says quickly, but he doesn’t believe her for even a minute. “Yes. Sorry.”

“Oh god, no, please don’t apologize. Shit,” he rubs the back of his neck, sighing. It’s guilt, she realizes with a shock. “I’m such an asshole. I can’t believe I let myself lash out like that. A thousand apologies won’t even be enough. I was scared out of my mind, but that doesn’t mean I can just treat you like that. I even sent you away, like you’re some sort of kid,” he winces. “I’m really sorry. Can you forgive me?”

She stares at him. “I was supposed to say that stuff.”

He looks taken aback by her words. “No? How could you have known that we would have been ambushed? Ugh, I’m so dumb. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.” Akira sends her a pointed look. “Though, you really shouldn’t split off from the group next time. Top priority means important, but above all else is your safety. Put that in your code.”

“I will,” she promises.

“Good. And the second priority is—” he reaches forward and engulfs her in a tight hug. “Is that you won’t ever, ever think that I’d hate you.”

She frowns. “How did you know?”

“A hunch.” Beat. “Also, Ann gave me a look.” He pulls back. “Are we still friends?”

Relief washes into her, crashing like a wave. “Of course,” she says, before hesitating. “Is…?”

“Yeah, he is.” Akira rolls his eyes, but there is no hiding the grin that takes over him. “A little too good, actually. He hasn’t stopped running around since I poured some energy back into him. I kind of think I overdid it, actually. Oh, and he’s excited to see you again.”

“He is?” she asks, hopeful.

“Absolutely. Asked about you the minute he came to.” Akira gets to his feet. “Shall we say hi?”

“Please.”

As they walk back, an epiphany takes over her. “Oh!” she exclaims, making Akira jump. “I get it now.”

“What’s up?”

“You love Ryuji.”

“That’s right,” he raises a brow.

She shakes her head. “You love Ryuji,” she insists. Even accounting for a margin of error, there’s simply no mistaking her results.

Akira stares at her for a long moment, before huffing out a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he says softly.

The moment Ryuji sees her, she sprints, throwing caution to the wind as she leaps into his arms. He catches her without hesitation. “Glad to see you’re safe, shorty.”

Sophia knows a lot of things, but there’s also a lot she doesn’t understand. But that’s fine. She’ll get there, and her friends will be waiting for her when she does.

[headboyweasley]

to my beloved // h.p

pairing : harry potter x reader

summary : when harry learns you’ve gone missing, he hits rock bottom. no one can reach out to him until a peculiar letter ends up in his possession. 

warnings : ANGST (happy ending???), swearing, post-war, alcohol/implied alcohol abuse, violence (against inanimate objects), missing person/presumed dead, mentions of food

word count : 1.3k

author’s note : hi!! this is my very first fic posted on tumblr, so i hope you enjoy. i’m actually really proud of this one, as it was inspired by my favorite song “play this when i’m gone” by machine gun kelly. also, thank you for the support on my masterlist! it means the literal world. also my favorite writers followed me and i am freaking out. sorry for the this long note,,, i tend to ramble. enjoy!

( disclaimer : gif is not mine! )

It had been months since the war had ended. While the wizarding world was still healing, the future for it had become hopeful. The threat of war had hung over the heads of the community, so once it had been taken away, everything was reborn. Bustling crowds and children’s laughter had filled Diagon Alley once more; the boarded up shops had now opened up, gleaming with pride. Many felt grateful for this new age.

The last person people expect to be so devastated was Harry Potter. Afterall, he was the one that killed Voldemort. Good things don’t happen to heroes, as someone had once told him. He gave everyone that hope, but he couldn’t find it in himself. Why, you may ask? Well, my friend, he found out you were among the missing people in the aftermath of the war. The love of his life, his sunshine, his darling had been snatched from him.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but sometimes he wishes that he hadn’t gone to the forest to face Voldemort. Sometimes he wishes he had hid away in Shell Cottage with you and grown old together. When he decided that was selfish, he tried to find other ways he could have won that war with you by his side. 

He knew he couldn’t. What happened was the only true ending. 

A sigh fell from his lips as the bottle was barely held by the tip of his fingers. The bedroom reeked of firewhiskey, which wasn’t a surprise since there was a surplus of them scattered across the floor. He took a final sip before letting this bottle join the rest. 

Of course, Ron and Hermione had attempted to help. They had kept it up for a couple months through staying at his home and making meals for him. Hermione tried reading to him, while Ron kept his friend updated with Quidditch and the Weasley family. This had come to an abrupt halt, though, after a particularly angry outburst from Harry. They had given him one last look of sympathy before apparating.

That had been months ago, and since then, Harry had been trapped inside his mind and flat. 

“You never do anything fucking right. First, you lose the love of your life. Next, you ruin the relationship between you and your best friends. You’re fucking alone, and you’re going to die that way.” He seethed with anger just looking at himself in the small mirror. He continued to glare at himself for a few more minutes before grabbing the mini dresser and slamming it into the floor. 

Glass shattered, while his old Hogwarts uniform and merchandise tumbled out. Violence was an often thing for the items in his home. Usually after a bottle and self-degrading speech, he’d destroy something to let the anger fizzle. The aftermath of this, though, was a bit of a coping mechanism, as he would fix things by hand instead of using magic. It let his mind breathe; focus on anything but his self-hatred. 

He crouched down to pick up his Gryffindor scarf, wrapping it around himself and relishing in its warmth with shut eyes. It reminded him of the freezing wind that nipped at his skin whenever he went out to visit Hagrid, or the times his roommates were challenging who could put on the most layers. These memories let him be at ease. They always transported him from the harsh reality to the happier days. 

Once he allowed himself to come back, his eyes scanned for something that would ground him to the real world. He expected to find a bottle to do so, but instead laid eyes on an unfamiliar envelope at his feet. It couldn’t have been his Hogwarts letter, as this one did not bear the mark to close it. However, there was a date written at the top in an all too familiar handwriting. Then, it clicked.

Your handwriting.

Harry scrambled to grab the paper. It was sliding all over the hardwood floor when he kept grabbing at it recklessly. After a struggle that felt like forever, he held the envelope in his shaking hands. Yes, that was definitely your handwriting within the date that read “31 July 1997.” He flipped it over to find “To My Beloved” written across the front. 

It felt as time had stopped, as he carefully pulled the flap from its seal. To him, it was like he was touching a part of you. Granted it was written over a year ago, but the small spark of hope held onto it anyways. Slowly, he pulled out the folded up paper inside. Deep breaths, he thought. He did quite the opposite, though, as his breath hitched when he read it.

Hi there, Harry. I hope you’re doing well.

If you find this, there’s a good chance something happened to me.

Already, tears pricked his eyes. He continued, despite his semi-blurry vision.

Please don’t fret though. Things happen for a reason, remember? If you hadn’t stayed in the hospital wing after your bone disappeared, you wouldn’t have met me and my major clumsiness. I’d like to think that’s another reason Lockhart’s git self had ended up as teacher; for our chance to meet. 

It’s ok to cry, but please don’t think that it’s your fault. I am so in love with you, Harry James Potter. I dedicated my life to you. I promised you I’d follow you until the end, and I followed through. 

Since I filled my promise, please promise that you’ll live; that you’ll find that happiness in your life again. You’re the best damn seeker I know, so don’t go telling me that you can’t. I mean, I’m sure you killed Voldemort and brought light into the dark world. You deserve to be in that light. Don’t dwell on the past, my love. Focus on the future. All I want is for you to be happy.

I know we never got married, but I knew you were mine from the beginning. The box with this letter; I thought I’d give it now before it was too late. In marriage, you want the best for your partner. That’s exactly what I want. When you wear this, please remember to do whatever you can to be happy. If not for you, then for me.

I love you, Harry Potter. I am so proud of you.

Yours, Y/N

The letter would be covered in wet spots if his glasses hadn’t taken the fall. He let out a choked sob as he clutched the letter to his chest. His eyes scanned the area for the aforementioned box, and found it between a few bottles. One hand darted out and snatched it up, while the other kept a tight grip on the now wrinkling letter. Slowly, he flicked open the lid with his thumb.

A wedding band glistened against the little light peeking through the blinds. Upon seeing it, he hesitantly let the letter fall onto his lap and went to take the jewelry instead. His hands shook as he grabbed it and slipped it into his finger. A perfect fit, of course.

Maybe, just maybe, the ring was magic. It must be, as there was a strange feeling bubbling in his chest. Happiness? Love? Hope? He sifted through a few emotions before landing on a feeling of content. This letter was the closure he had been subconsciously grasping for. Now that he had it, he felt reconciliation with his mind. 

Harry pushed himself up to stand, and with shaky legs, he made his way to his home phone. He made sure one hand held the paper that brought him much peace, while the other dialed the number. It rang a few times before a familiar voice answered. A final deep breath before he responded.

“Hermione? I think.. I think I’m ready to change.”

-

!taglist!  @/empty :(

[acciomalfoy]

fool’s gold (cedric diggory x reader)

summary: you’ve been best friends forever, and valentines hasn’t meant much until now

a/n: GO FOLLOW @fromashescomephoenixes THIS IS YET ANOTHER COLLAB WITH HER!!!!! FOLLOW NOW AND CHECK OUT HER FICS!!!

-

“I’m still not happy with you,” I said, and Cedric only laughed. “Stop laughing!” I scowled, and he swung an arm around me.

“The tournament is well and truly over, Y/n, and you never have to go in the Black Lake again.” He grinned at me, and I only scowled.

“You could’ve gotten killed, or worse, lost the tournament!” As a member of Slytherin, winning is absolutely everything. Maybe Ced dying was a tad worse.

“But I won.” His shit-eating grin said it all, and I whacked his shoulder. 

“Get off of your high horse.” I shook my head, and he stood up. For some reason he had taken to sitting at the Slytherin table during meals, not that I was about to complain. 

“Look’s like Sprout’s about to charge me, I’ll see you in potions?” He asked, and I nodded. Potions was definitely my favourite class, and it had nothing to do with a greasy haired git, but everything to do with the golden boy I sat next to.

“See you then.” Not a second after he left Eleanor Flint clutched my shoulder.

“You’re totally dating! When did he ask you out? Was it right after Chang dumped him, or did he wait a while? Waiting is totally more classy, but I can see Diggory not wanting to wait.” Eleanor babbled, and I stared at her.

“We aren’t dating, and nor does he want to.” I said, but as soon as the words left my mouth I knew I had made a mistake.

“But you want to.” El screeched, and I quickly covered her mouth with my hand.

“No! Cedric still likes Cho, I’m certain of it.” I said, and El pushed away my hand.

“Rumour has it she broke up with Diggory because you were in the lake and not her. If Diggory liked her more than you she would have been in the lake.” El was batshit crazy, I was positive.

“I was in the lake because I’ve been best friends with Ced since first year. I’m not listening to this, El.” I stood up quickly, and before she could continue arguing with me I speed walked my way out of the Great Hall. Good thing too, since I realised that I had left my advanced potions textbook in my dorm. 

The dungeons weren’t too far from the Great Hall, and I made it there in what I would consider record-timing. My textbook was on my desk, and it wasn’t until I was leaving did I see the note on my bed. 

I gingerly picked up the note, all too aware of how the Weasley twins had it out for the Slytherin house, and froze.

I’m like a crow on a wire, you’re the shining distraction that makes me fly.

I spun around the room, as if the writer of the notes would be standing in front of me, but the room was still, void of life aside Eleanor’s plant that was bordering death anyway.

I shook my head and stuffed the note in one of my robe pockets. I really didn’t have time to contemplate shit like this. With my potions book in my bag, I turned and left the dorm, soon entering the common room and eventually the hallways of the dungeons. I didn’t have to go far, since the potions room was only a couple corridors over. I slid into my seat seconds before Snape swept into the room, and I looked at Cedric who was already staring at me.

“What?” I whispered, and he looked at Snape before replying.

“Where were you?” He asked, and I pulled out my quill, ink pot, and finally some parchment.

My dorm, why?

You left the hall in a rush. Why’d you go to your dorm?

I forgot my potions book. Besides, El was killing me and I had to get out of there.

He nodded thoughtfully, and I decided to listen to Snape for once in my life. Anything to keep my mind occupied.

Later that afternoon, we were sat in the dark, stuffy tower for divination. The scent of lavender and peppermint was already overcoming my senses to cloud my mind and make me feel extremely sleepy. According to Trelawny peppermint was meant to sharpen seeing abilities, however I’m not sure anything can sharpen the non-existent...

Luckily, this was another class with Cedric. Merlin knows why we chose to continue it after OWLs, but I suppose that’s the Slytherin in me again: proving I can do it, and do it best.

Right as I’m preparing to drift into my sleepy daze, Ced nudges me. 

“Trelawny. Five o’clock,” he mouths, nodding his head in the direction of my left shoulder.

“Hello dears!” She springs up, slightly like a jack in a box. I entertain the thought of telling her so, but she cuts me off as I open my mouth.

“Have you seen anything in your teacups yet?” She questions, staring at us in a way that is a touch too dramatic for my taste. 

“Erm, yes.” I respond, trying to save Cedric’s skin since he just saved mine. Grabbing his emerald green tea cup, I grasp the golden yellow handle, and twist it three times. I’m not sure why... it just seemed right.

I glance at my book, but decide to wing it. 

“I see a knight- or er. Perhaps a hero?” Trelawny nods, her eyelids fluttering as she rests them close and furrows her brow. 

“No, it’s a knight in shining armour.” I nod, settling on this seeing. Cedric glances up slightly at the word ‘shining’ but shrugs it off quickly. He smirks at me,

“Oh, and what does that symbolise y/n?” His eyes flash slightly with mischief.

“It means you should keep your big mouth shut!” I glare at him, but can’t help cracking into a smile after a moment in his laughing gaze.

“Well dears,” Trelawny chirps at us, grabbing for the cup. “Indeed! I see...”

She gasps as I lazily flick my wand to float the cup off of the ground. I still wish I had remembered this trick when we were working with crystal balls...

“Oh Professor!” I groan miserably, despite the traces of thick sarcasm. “Please don’t say I’m due to die,” I throw myself back in my chair while Cedric tries to hold in a snort.

“I’m afraid you are my dear, in a most unfortunate incident involving a revolving door and a popsicle...”

—

“Charms is the worst.” Cedric groaned from beside me, and I nodded. Charms was fucking boring is what it was.

“Flitwick said it was a practical today.” I remembered, and Cedric brightened up considerably.

“About connecting minds?” He asked, and I nodded.

“I think so, partners?” I answered and asked, but I already knew what Cedric was going to say.

“Howdy.” He tipped an imaginary hat at me, and I sniggered.

“Attention seventh years! I’d like you all to get into pairs, and I will form the mind connecting spell. It will last for just one minute, and there may be minor discomfort as the minute comes to a close. Jordan and Berg, you’re first up.” Flitwick began the charm on the first Hufflepuff and Slytherin duo, and they laughed excitedly as the charm went into effect.

“Diggory and L/n, let’s get to it. Face one another and stare into each other’s eyes.” Flitwick instructed, and Ced beamed at me as we stared at each other.

“Now hold each other’s hands, please.” I felt myself growing sweaty at the thought, but Cedric took my hands with ease, and without breaking eye contact.

His grey eyes were more startling than ever, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell the pretty boy was thinking.

“Ut copulare,” Flitwick began murmuring until out of the corner of my eye I watched a flying wand hit the professor. “Oh!” Flitwick let out a startled cry, and Cedric and I nodded simultaneously as we broke eye contact to stare at him.

“Uh oh.” He tittered nervously, and I swallowed. The last time I heard a professor say uh oh was when Slughorn brewed a de-aging potion and it exploded on one of my classmates, rendering them to infancy for a good three weeks. Rumour had it she still used the pacifier from time to time.

“Do you feel okay?” Flitwick asked, and I nodded.

“I feel fine, Professor. In fact, I’ve never felt better.” This was a lie. I had woken up with a knot the size of a rats nest in my hair this morning, as well as having forgotten to do the potions homework last night. However, my teacher looked relieved, so I smiled at him.

“Same here.” Cedric added, and Flitwick sighed.

“Just in case the spell worked, I won’t be able to perform another one on you until at least a week from now.” Flitwick said, and with that he moved to another pair.

“Well I’d say that went well.” Cedric said, and I snickered.

“About as well as your date with Cho.” I was talking about his final date with Cho, which ended in her pouring a milkshake on his head. 

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and I stuck my tongue out. 

—

“Salazar, what’s the reasoning for all these decorations?” I asked as we left charms. Pink and red decorations hung from ceiling to floor, and it was then that I realised it was Valentines next week.

“Every year the house elves go overboard. We should talk to them about it sometime.” Cedric wrinkled his nose, and I nodded. This was just too much.

“What’s going on over there?” I pointed to a circle that had formed, and it looked like two people were in the centre of it.

“Only one way to find out.” Cedric said, and we slowly approached it. Adrian, a fellow Slytherin, nodded at me.

“What’s going on?” I asked him, and he gestured to the pair inside the circle.

“They’re trapped until they kiss, because a rose fell from the ceiling right in front of them. It’s magically binding, so we could be here a while.” Adrian explained, and I tugged on Cedric’s arm.

“Did you hear that? It’s like mistletoe, they can’t leave til they kiss. It only happens when two people are in love.” I repeated, and Cedric nodded as we walked away from the circle.

“I barely survived the mistletoe.” Cedric said with a shiver, and I laughed as I remembered the girls that had chased Cedric down while waving mistletoe. It had been a sight for sore eyes.

“It’s okay, Ceddie. Time for lunch!”

—

“Could we maybe eat by the lake?” He asked, already having dodged three eager third years. The Great Hall was as busy as ever, and I noticed I myself was subject to several glares.

“I suppose.” I dramatically consented, grabbing two pumpkin pasties and some carrots with hummus from the nearest table. “Let’s go,” I led the charge. 

A particularly determined looking Goyle stood directly in my path, stationed by a suspicious rose. I debated how best to get around, when I felt my feet lift off of the floor altogether.

“Cedric!” I shouted as I was levitated a good ten feet across the hall towards the door. I could only hear Cedric’s laughter as he ran below me, and I ducked as I saw the doorway coming straight for my head.

“Mr. Diggory!” McGonagall was heard shouting across the hall, however we were already halfway to the lake.

Dissolving in a fit of laughter, we sank onto the bank of the lake. 

“Ah, back where it all began.” Cedric grinned towards me. I could think of a great deal of memories surrounding this lake, but I wasn’t entirely sure of any that had marked the beginning of something.

“What began?” I nudged him with my elbow and took a rather ‘unladylike’ bite of my pumpkin pasty.

Cerdric shrugged, and responded by taking a large mouthful of his own. He then grinned with a pumpkin paste covering his teeth.

“Ugh, you’re disgusting!” I threw a pebble at him gently. He simply transformed it into a golden finch. And so, another calm, sunny day was passed by the lake.

••••

After lunch, I took a quick trip to the dorms while Cedric was in quidditch practise. I needed to finish this potions essay, and only one person could save me.

“Come on, Y/n! You’re so slow.” Pansy teased as she speed-walked to the dorm, and I only huffed.

“These legs weren’t made for walking!” I shouted as she entered the portrait, and the only response was the faint echo of her laughter.

By the time I stepped through the portrait, the common-room was empty aside a few stray kids from the years below. I walked through the short hallway to our dorm, and Pansy was staring directly at me as I came in, a note in her hand. 

“I’m the first to admit that I’m reckless, I get lost in your beauty and I can’t see two feet in front of me.” Pansy read it aloud, and I froze.

“What the fuck is this?” She asked, and I shrugged.

“I don’t know. I got another one yesterday, I kinda forgot about it.” I explained, and Pansy raised an eyebrow.

“That’s sus, but whatever. Come on, let’s get to the library!”

—

“Holy Hippogriff!” I jumped as I felt a hard impact in my lower back. 

“You okay y/n?” Pansy frowned as I rubbed my back. I frowned back, puzzled by this unexplained pain.

“I think so? Something just hit me in the back,” I explained, glancing around for the remnants of a prank of some sort. None appeared. Pansy shrugged and returned to her potions work. I gathered my stuff, and debated where to head next. 

It was the end of the day, and I had completed all of my homework. So I was blessed with some nice free time. In a last second decision I veered towards the Quidditch pitch to meet Cedric after his practice. 

“Hey y/n!”  A sweet voice called out as I was about to duck out of the entrance hall.

“Hello Holly!” I spun on my heel. Holly was always quite nice to me, even though most of the Gryffindors avoided me. “How are you?” 

“Swell thanks,” she nodded. “Just wanted to say congrats to you and Diggory! You two are so cute together!” I blushed all the way up to my ears.

“No I-“ she was already speeding down the hall back towards the tower. I sighed and continued towards the pitch.

••••

“Y/n!” Cedric waved across the field towards me. I noticed him limping slightly, but didn’t think anything of it. 

“How was practice Ced?” I asked, and he only shrugged.

“Managed to take a bludger to the back, but it wasn’t too bad.” He said as he approached me. 

“Doesn’t look good if you’re limping. Want to go to Pomfrey’s?” I gestured towards the various windowsills side by side that was the infirmary, and Cedric shook his head.

“I’m fine, Hooch said it would be worn off by tomorrow. Did you get all your homework done?” He asked, and I saw his face flinch.

“That’s it. We’re going to the infirmary. Give me your arm. Besides, my back has been aching since the library. Maybe I can get it checked out.” He held his arm out curiously, and I wrapped it around my shoulder so I could help him put less pressure on his leg.

“Thanks, Y/n.” He said sheepishly, and I smiled at him.

“I got all my homework done, by the way. Pansy even helped me with the last part of the potions essay that we struggled to do, so I’ll explain it tonight or tomorrow.” I said, and Cedric nodded.

“Sounds good, let’s go.” 

—

“For some reason you’ve both bruised the exact same area in your lower back. Do you two have anything you’d like to share with me?” Pomfrey stared at us, and Cedric laughed.

“It's a complete coincidence!” He said, and I nodded, but I was mentally frowning.

There’s no such thing as coincidences.

—

“One day you’re going to spill the boiling water all over yourself.” I said as I watched Cedric in a feeble attempt to pour the water from 15 inches above into his teacup.

“I’m not the quidditch captain for nothing-ow!” Cedric yelped at the same time I hissed, and I quickly inspected my wrist.

“Some of it just landed on me!” I glared at him, and he stared blankly back.

“It landed on me, Y/n. You’re across the table it couldn’t have splashed you.” Cedric said slowly, and I realised my wrist was bone-dry.

“I swear to Godric I felt it hit me.” I said earnestly, and Cedric nodded.

“I don’t doubt it. Shall we go back to Pomfrey?” Cedric asked, and I shook my head.

“It’s probably nothing. Lighten up, Ced, we’re fine. We’ve got the lovely class of charms next, followed by Sprout’s endless herbology lectures.” I nudged Cedric with my elbow, but he still seemed upset.

“Hey, what’s up?” I leaned closer and murmured, and he leant his head on mine.

“What if it’s not nothing? What if we’ve been cursed somehow?” I wished I could erase the worry from his face.

“I highly doubt that. Hogwarts is one of the safest places ever, and if someone was going around cursing people we would definitely know about it.” I tried my best to reassure him, and he sighed.

“Okay, dipshit. I guess I trust you.”

— 

“Odds on you asking Sprout what the word sex means?” I asked, and Cedric laughed.

“Ten.” I looked at him in surprise. 

“You sure? That’s pretty low.” He nodded.

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” He asked, and I snickered.

“No reason. Three, two, one!”

“Eight!” We both shouted, and I screeched with laughter. Ced was done for.

“No! Rematch!” He said desperately, and I tried to control my laughter.

“Nope! Go ask!” I put my hand over my mouth in an attempt to control my laughter again, and Cedric reluctantly raised his hand.

“Professor? I have a question.” Cedric called out, and Sprout turned around to face us.

“Yes dear?” She smiled at him, and I nudged Cedric’s leg.

“What’s sex?” The entirety of the Hufflepuff-Slytherin class erupted into screams, and Sprout gasped.

“Mr Diggory!” She exclaimed, and I genuinely thought I was going to piss myself.

“Well, as my head of house, I thought you would be the best teacher to ask.” He said, and I noticed his cheeks were bright red. He shot a glare at me before smiling innocently at Sprout. 

“If you stay after class I might be able to explain, however, we are currently in a herbology lesson!” She looked like she was about to cry, and I slapped Cedric’s arm as I laughed.

“You’re insane!” I said, and the smile he gave me made my breath get caught in my throat.

-

The next day I ran into Cedric just before potions. He was about to trip right over his own two feet, when I caught his hand. 

"Morning, clumsy!" I smirked slightly as he brushed off the imaginary dust he had acquired during his slip. 

"Morning, y/n," he mumbled, lacking his regular enthusiasm. After chatting for a minute or two he started to back away slowly. 

"Hey, I just have to run to the bathroom. I'll be back in time for class though!" He yelled over his shoulder now. He started to run down the stony corridor, however I realised after a moment that he was heading the wrong way. 

"Wait! Ced, you're heading towards the common rooms!" I tried to yell after him, but figured he'd learn it in a moment anyway. It's not like he hadn't learned this before either. He came to the Slytherin common room almost as much as I went to the Hufflepuff one. 

I followed his footsteps, figuring I would be able to talk to him on his way back. What I didn't expect was to see a single slip of parchment fluttering to the floor, and Cedric nowhere in sight. 

I bent down quickly to pick it up, crinkling the hard corners with my anxious movements. 

I’m like a boat on the water, you’re the raise on the waves that calm my mind.

It was in the same, scrawling writing as the other notes I had received, and the paper was exactly the same to all of the other's I had received. 

Was it Cedric? I flipped the paper over and looked at the blank back. He couldn't possibly love me. Could he? 

I smiled at the message, remembering when we met up over break once. We had taken his father’s boat sailing, and had somehow managed to capsize on three different occasions. I heard footsteps coming down the corridor, and I shoved the message in my pocket.

"Hey!" Cedric called out as he came near.

“Hi, Ced. Or should I say boat on the water?” I twirled the piece of paper around my fingers as he approached, and I watched as his face fell.

“That’s not mine.” He said quickly, and I raised my eyebrows.

“Hmm. If that’s true, then I better go search for my secret admirer.” I grinned as he took the bait and grabbed my hand, tugging me closer to him.

“How long have you known?” Ced asked, and I shrugged.

“I had my suspicions on Finch-Fletchley, but you proved me wrong with this note,” I laughed at Cedric’s reaction. “I’m joking of course, Ceddie. I had no idea who it was, but I’m glad it’s you.”

“Wait, really?” He seriously was the cutest. The way he was looking at me right now made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world; then again, I just might be.

“Of course I am. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been trying to drop hints for four years.” Cedric laughed at my confession, and I elbowed him.

“Oi! I was only laughing because I’ve been dropping hints for five. I figured in our last year at school I may as well confess that I’m in love with you.” My breath caught in my throat, and he raised his hand to my face only to brush a piece of hair out of my eyes.

“You’re in love with me?” I asked, and he nodded.

“It’s practically impossible not to be. Now that you know it’s me, I was wondering if you wanted to be my valentine?” Cedric asked, and a rustling from above made us look up.

A red rose had just bloomed.

-

It was valentine's day. Of course, just about everywhere was packed with starry eyed couples. We had opted to stay at Hogwarts, and have a sweet picnic together. Cedric had taken care of the setting, and I had found all of the food. 

It wasn't a bad effort. In my opinion he went slightly overboard with the pink, but I did appreciate the various hints of green he had added with the plates and napkins. Plus, I had brought plenty of food from the kitchens (which Cedric had shown me in my fourth year) 

We settled down on the edge of the lake, and I took a moment to appreciate the sunny day, and the time I could finally spend with Cedric not just as friends, but as a couple. I laid down, and gently rested my head of Cedric's lap.

"We should have done this a lot sooner," I joked, but I meant it as well. Knowing I could have been dating Cedric for months before now was a little bittersweet. I tried to remember that at least we were here now together. 

I wasn't exactly sure if I believed in soulmates, but I knew that if I had a soulmate, it would be Cedric. 

"Thank goodness you found the note I was going to hide the other day," Cedric smiled.

"That's true, you're no Gryffindor," I teased. "Thank goodness!" I stuck my tongue out in mock disgust. 

And that's when things took a turn. I watched as Cho came up to us, with a nasty frown on her face. Her frown darkened our picnic almost instantly.

“Fuck.” I breathed under my voice. What in Merlin’s name could she possibly want with me and Cedric? Obviously we were about to find out.

“Ceddie, honey!” She sang sweetly as she came closer to us. Cedric shot me a look and quickly set a reassuring, soft kiss on my lips before getting up.

“Cho. What are you doing here?” He asked, sounding incredibly confused. He rubbed his hand through his hair, anxious about her mission

“I came to rescue you!” She grinned innocently. As she reached for her hand I couldn’t help myself.

“Hey! Back off!” She shot me a burning glare, and sent a stinging spell at my wrist.

“Shit,” Cedric and I spoke in unison as we both grabbed our wrists. I muttered a healing spell or two as I glared towards Cho.

“Look, Cho, go away. Okay?” Cedric tried to kindly shoo her away. “I’m perfectly happy with y/n!” I smiled softly, glad to here Cedric say that.

“It’s okay Ceddie! I realised exactly why it was her in that lake and not me!” Cho chirrped. She sounded quite proud of herself, and I was curious what on earth she had come up with.

“Yeah, it’s because I love her!” Cedric explained. Cho let out a shrill laugh, and patted his arm.

“No silly!” She smiled sweetly, as if explaining to a young child. “You THINK you love her!” She shot another laser like look towards me.

“I’m pretty sure I know who I love Cho!” Cedric’s face began to harden as he realised this wasn’t going to be easy to brush off.

“She used a love potion on you!” Cho screeched, grabbing hold of Cedric.

“I said let go of him!” I got up off the blanket and walked over.

“She’s best in our potions class, she’s loved you since we were 13, and she’s a fucking Slytherin!” Cho explained desperately! She had small, glistening tears in her eyes now. I almost felt pity for her, but I couldn’t.

I walked over slowly, deciding exactly what I should say.

“Being a Slytherin doesn’t make me evil Cho, just like you being a Ravenclaw doesn’t make you smart!” I frowned. I hated how much the stereotypes of our houses defined us. “People aren’t able to be perfectly categorised between four groups!” Cho glared and jabbed her wand at me.

Before I realised what was happening, Cedric jumped between me and the flash of white light, but it couldn't stop the spell for some reason. I doubled over in excruciating pain that hit right around my belly button. It was as if my stomach had turned inside out and began to burn the surrounding flesh. I glanced over, and Cedric was in obvious pain as well. 

I couldn’t contain the whimper that escaped from my mouth, and Cedric met my eyes.

“How the hell did you hit Y/n with that?” He spat out, while Cho only stared at us in shock and what looked like panic. After Cedric let out what sounded like a painful groan, Cho waved her wand and relief flooded me.

“Tell me! How did you do it?” Now that he was able to stand up without pain, Cedric got incredibly close to her, towering over her. 

“I-I don’t know! You jumped in front, she must have been faking it!” I watched as Cedric lowered the manicured finger she had pointed at me, and whispered something in her ear. The effect in had on her was instantaneous; she slowly stepped away before turning tail and bolting away.

“We need to go to Pomfrey.” Cedric spoke without looking at me, though when I clasped his hand he squeezed mine tightly.

-

“I don’t know what to tell the pair of you. Have you been hit by an unknown spell in the past month or so?” Pomfrey looked tired, I noticed.

I wondered how often she slept.

“Not that I can think of.” Cedric said, and I nodded. 

“Unless someone’s hit us without us noticing, then no.” I added, and Pomfrey sighed.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with the two of you. I’ve only heard of cases like these, never seen one myself. I think there’s only been four or five documented.” She explained, causing Ced and I to exchange glances.

“Well, what happened to those people?” I asked the obvious question, since my lovely boyfriend clearly wasn’t going to. Pomfrey shifted slightly.

“One person in each pair died before a full analysis and case study could be completed.” I almost laughed at the look on Cedric’s face until I realised that one of us was totally going to die soon.

“Well, my darling, it was lovely knowing you.” I patted him on the back, and he wrapped his arms around me, encasing me with love.

“What can we do?” Cedric asked, and Pomfrey shook her head.

“Not a whole lot. Try and remember if the pair of you have been struck by a spell in the past though.” 

-

It took fourteen seconds after we left the infirmary to Cedric to slap his forehead.

“I think we’re stupid.” He said, and I raised an eyebrow.

“Speak for yourself. Personally, I’m the smartest person I know.” He snickered, and I frowned. Where was the joke?

“Flitwick hit us with that spell, remember? And the spell was interrupted halfway through, which created a new spell entirely.” Cedric explained, and I sighed.

“I think we’re stupid too.”

-

We'd spent another lovely 10 years being stupid together. Sure we'd had our ups and downs, but we always knew that we were soulmates.

 Since we had found out about the spell, we've helped Flitwick research whatever charm had put us in the situation of feeling each others pain. It was actually quite strange when I was pregnant with our son, Cedric had noticed the contractions first. 

 After spending a couple of years with Flitwick researching the spell, we'd moved to Scotland and gotten married. Life had been quite pleasant. We owned a small farm where we raised cows and hippogriffs alike. Our son was now 6 years old, and had already decided that he wanted to be in Slytherin 'Just like mummy!'  

Currently we were sitting in our favorite wizarding restaurant. I gazed over towards Cedric's kind face as he helped our son go through the maze on the children's menu. I grinned over at my two lovely boys, and nudged Cedric with my foot under the table.

"Hm?" He looked up, and our son copied him. I smiled towards them both, and silently thanked Merlin that I had these two lovely boys in my life.

"What do you want to eat?" I held up the menu, and raised my eyebrows. Cedric and our son looked at each other and then looked back towards be in sync. 

"PIZZA!" They said together. I giggled and they quickly joined in. 

Just as we share pain, Cedric and I share the multitude of joys that have bloomed in our lives. And that made the joy all the better.

[silver-renjun]

Cafe 7 Dream: Jaemin

Word Count: 2, 443

Warnings: violence, mentions of death, stabbing 

Read the prologue before reading this!  

You headed into you 8 am class late as usual. After pulling out your notebook from your bag, you threw yourself down on the desk.

“Busy night, y/n?” Jaemin asked. You and Jaemin didn’t really talk that much at all. At the cafe, Jaemin was always in his own world, and in class he just stared at the board, though you doubted he actually remembered anything from the lectures. It was strange that Jaemin started a conversation with you, but it was also strange that you were resting on the desk. No matter how exhausted you were, you took notes, albeit sloppy. 

“I had 3 essays to write. Two of which I didn’t even know existed until Haechan texted me for my work,” you replied.

“You should be more responsible, y/n. I need someone reliable to cheat off of,” Haechan said. You rolled your eyes at his reply and groaned. You didn’t have the energy to argue with him. 

“You should just rest, y/n. I’ll take notes for you and we can review them after class today,” Jaemin said. He smiled at you, but you were fast asleep.

After class, Jaemin shaked your shoulder to wake you up.

“y/n! y/n! Everyone already left the class. It’s time to go,” Jaemin whispered in your ear.

“Where are the other guys?” you asked with a breathy voice.

“They’re at the cafe already. I’m sure they’ll be fine without us. Let’s go to the library.”

Jaemin helped you up your seat and packed your books in you bag. He even offered to carry it for you, but you declined. Jaemin held your hand as the two of you walked over to the library. He was still worried about how tired you were and didn’t want you to fall.

The library was filled with students trying to study. Jaemin led you to a secluded corner in the back. 

You dropped your bag down and asked, “are you sure they’ll manage without us in the cafe?”

“You’re the one who should be drinking an americano, not the one making it.”  Jaemin smiled at you and reached out for your hand. “Don’t worry about the cafe right now.” 

Jaemin lectured the content of the class to you. He was a natural at explaining everything. Even when you had a question about the topic, Jaemin was able to answer them with ease. As you copied down your notes, you were surprised to find yourself understanding the content better when Jaemin was teaching you.

At the end of the session you said, “You take such good notes! And remember everything from class too! I’m impressed. We should totally do this more often.”

“Well I still have to work at the cafe to pay my tuition, but I’ll definitely help you out, y/n.” 

“Yeah, working at the cafe is my destresser. I wouldn’t want to give that up,” you chuckled. “Maybe you could come over to my place after work and we can study then.”

The next day, you were late to class once again. You rushed over to your seat, but this time you didn’t pull out your books. You knew Jaemin had you covered, so you plopped your head down on the desk for some rest. 

“y/n, I need you to start taking this class seriously,” Haechan said. “I need to pass, you know.” 

You knew that replying to Haechan was just provoke him into arguing with you, so let his comment slide. 

“You’re super late this time, y/n. I was almost certain that Renjun’s vision about your death had finally happened,” Jisung said.

Jisung’s remark was just too strange to ignore. Your head shot up and you gave Jisung a raised eyebrow.

“What the hell does that mean?” 

A look of realization took over Jisung’s face before he looked down at the floor. “Sorry about that guys,” he whispered. 

The other boys all exchanged uncomfortable glances as if they were trying to figure out who would explain what had been said about you. Finally, Jaemin broke the silence.

“We can talk at the cafe.” The boys had slightly less uncomfortable looks on their faces, but they still appeared to be worried about something. You decided to not stress over it. Your priority was catching up on your sleep. 

After class, you and the dreamies headed out to the cafe and started preparing before customers arrived.

You were wiping down tables when you asked, “so is anyone going to explain to me what happened this morning?” You knew you were going to be working with Jaemin, and that boy was like a rock when got to work.  This was your only opportunity to get answers.

“Look, you’re not going to believe us at all,” Mark started.

“We’ve got magic powers,” Haechan said. 

“You see y/n, Jisung’s a wizard. He makes love potions so people will fall in love with our cafe,” Jaemin explained. While he was talking, Jisung pulled out a pink liquid from under the counter and waved it at you. You had no energy to question them so you just let Jaemin continue.

“And Jeno, he’s a water spirit. Do a little trick for us Jeno,” Jaemin said. Jeno formed a ball of water in his hand and shifted it into different shapes.

“What the-” was all you could muster up. “That water just came out of thin air! And you’re controlling it!”

“Like I was saying, y/n, it’s all magic.” Jaemin smiled at the look of wonder on your face. “Next up we have Renjun. Care to explain yourself Renjun?”

Renjun groaned before saying, “I’m an oracle. I see the future. And your future has an attack in it. I didn’t see you die like Jisung said, but since you’re a human, you’re probably going to-”

“Alright that’s enough,” Jaemin said, cutting Renjun off before he could tell you more about your fate. You were so amazed by Jeno’s abilites that you weren’t even fazed by what Renjun had said.

“What about you Jaemin?” you said with a smile.

“I’m human and so is Mark. We know our way around magic pretty well though,” Jaemin said with a self-satisfied grin.

“And Chenle and Haechan?” you asked, eager to learn more.

“None of your business,” Chenle replied harshly. Chenle’s tone snapped you out of your amazement and made you serious about your work again. Jaemin, like usual, didn’t talk much during his shift, so you would have to wait until the cafe was closed to get more answers.

“Hey Jaemin,” you said as you were heading out the cafe. “Does tonight work for you?”

The boys all looked at each other with wide eyes. They had no idea about your study plans with Jaemin.

“Any night works for me,” Jaemin replied as he followed you out the cafe. You could hear the giggles of the boys even when you were standing outside. Jaemin looked at you with an embarrassed smile before holding your hand and following you home.  

At your apartment, Jaemin got to lecturing you once again. He made sure you understood every topic covered in class in full detail. You were still amazed by how good of a teacher Jaemin turned out to be. 

After he finished talked Jaemin said, “well that’s everything we learned today. Got any questions, y/n?”

“About the coursework, no. About magic, yes.”

“Magic happens to be my strong suit, so ask away,” he replied with a smile. 

“Well Chenle and Haechan didn’t really explain their powers. Do you know what they are?”

“Nope,” Jaemin said, shaking his head. “Chenle’s family is pretty influential in the magic world, so revealing their powers is kind of a security risk for them. Whatever Chenle does, I bet he’s pretty strong at it though.” Jaemin paused for a second. “As for Haechan, he hasn’t really gotten his powers yet. He’s kind of touchy about it since most people get their powers by this age.”

You nodded your head in agreement, though you had no idea how it all worked.

“So what about you Jaemin?” you said in playful tone as you poked his shoulder.

“What about me?” Jaemin replied, mimicking your voice and poking you back.

“What’s your relation with magic?” you said with a smile.

Jaemin’s face became serious. He took a minute to think before replying to you.

“It’s a family thing,” was all he said. You decided to not press him any further about magic. 

“You know, Jaemin, it’s really not that late. If you’re down, you could stay and watch some Netflix. I’ve got some leftover pizza in the fridge too.”

“That’s a great idea! I know so many good dramas that are on Netflix!”

You microwaved a few slices of pizza while Jaemin picked out a show to watch on Netflix. It turned out, alongside having a coffee obsession, Jaemin was also obsessed with period dramas. He talked nonstop about the characters and kept on playing episode after episode. It wasn’t until you two had finished the first season at 1 am did Jaemin say, “it might be getting a little late now.”

He looked over to you for a response, but you had already passed out on the sofa. Jaemin stared at your sleeping figure and admired your beauty.

“Since you’re sleeping I might as well tell you this now. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the confidence to tell you this when you’re awake. I really like you, y/n. I think you’re the most amazing person in the world. I’d give anything to be with you.”

Jaemin sighed and went to sleep on your floor. Unknown to him, you had actually been listening the entire time. 

It became a habit for you and Jaemin to study at your place after work. Jaemin would lecture you for a while, and then you would order delivery food to thank him for helping you. After watching Netflix, Jaemin would sometimes even sleep over at your place. 

One night, you and Jaemin were cuddling on the sofa while watching a drama. Jaemin looked over a you and said, “There’s some things I should tell you, y/n.”

You smiled, expecting Jaemin to confess to you. What you heard was not a confession of love.

“You wanted to know about my connection with magic, so here it is. My mom used to sell plants, mushrooms, stuff you would use in potions. I would go foraging with her in the forest so we could find things to sell. Our customers were kind to us, they would even give us part of the potions they made. One day, this fire demon came into the store and gave my mother a potion to drink. She collapsed on the floor. The fire demon killed her and used her blood for a sacrifice.”

Jaemin began to cry as he thought about what had happened to his mother. You pulled him into a tight hug and rubbed his head.  You felt sorry for Jaemin, who had to live his life in so much pain. 

After a few more study sessions, Jaemin finally pulled himself together and asked you out.

“I really like you, y/n. I think you’re the most amazing person in the world. I’d give anything to be with you.”

“That’s the same thing you said when I was sleeping. You’re so cute,” you said, kissing him on the forehead. 

Jaemin stared at you with wide eyes and said, “wait you heard that? You knew I liked you and you didn’t even say anything?” 

You laughed at Jaemin before turning on his favorite show and cuddling with him. 

The next day at the cafe, you were supposed to be working with Jisung, but he had gotten sick. You and Haechan were taking over for him. 

“Hey y/n, you’ve never seen the potions room before, right?” Haechan said. You nodded in reply. “It’s crazy in there. You totally have to check it out.”

You followed Haechan into the back of the cafe where all the potions were. You were amazed at the amount of potions there was in the back room. Haechan grabbed a vial off a rack and handed it to you. 

“You should try this one y/n! It’ll make you feel so energized!” Haechan said.

You opened the vial and drunk all of the strange liquid inside. Unlike what Haechan had said, you began to feel sleepy and collapsed on the floor. When you looked at Haechan for help, you noticed that he had a knife in his hand. 

“Be good for me and don’t make any noise, okay?” Haechan said before slashing your skin with the knife. You couldn’t help but cry with all the pain you were feeling. You slowly became more tired until you passed out. 

When you woke up, you found yourself in a hospital bed. Jaemin was standing beside you and held onto your hand.

“Oh my gosh! y/n, baby, you’re alive!” Jaemin said before tearing up.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Haechan poisoned you. He cut you for your blood. He used it for a ritual to summon his powers. He had already transformed before we could even help you. Haechan’s a fire demon.”

You wanted to say something, but you had no idea what to do. The whole situation was just like what had happened to his mother. You and Jaemin were both thinking the same thing, but neither of you wanted to say it. 

A few days later, you were discharged from the hospital. Although you felt fine after your rest, Jaemin was the one who was truly hurting. Jaemin stopped going to class and the cafe because of Haechan. He just stayed at your apartment. 

“Jaemin, you need to forgive him. I’m not hurt. I’m completely fine!” you argued. 

“I can’t forgive him! That bastard nearly killed you!” Jaemin yelled at you. 

“Whether you like it or not, you’ve got to start living like a normal person again! You can’t just run away from your problems!”

Jaemin began to laugh.

“You’re right, y/n. I’m going to make that scumbag pay for what he did.”

Select another route

[deobienthusiast]

young, dumb, and rich

• pairing: kim sunwoo (the boyz) x reader ft. eric sohn

• word count: 2,426 words

• genre: bad boy!sunwoo, rich boy!sunwoo, rich!reader, popular!reader, fluff, tiny bit of angst

• warnings: suggestive at times, snobbish sunwoo

• notes: i liked this request a lot. if sunwoo had the chance to act out a character like this, i think he’d do really well (also this is coming out after i found out i hit 300 followers! thanks so much for that🤩☺️🥳)

• requested: yes | no by anon

There was always a stigma around being the rich kid. Everyone had their own opinions about being rich. Some thought it would be a blessing to be rich, while others believe that being rich makes you a snob. You didn’t want to be known as the snobby rich kid. Your parents raised you better than that, so you made sure to live up to how they raised you. You got along with everyone, and you had a lot of friends.

You also had a tinge of a thing for the risky side. You had perhaps the biggest crush on your school’s biggest personality, Kim Sunwoo. Sunwoo wasn’t the most likeable kid on the block. Like you, he was born into a wealthy family. Unlike you, he liked to use that to his advantage. He loved to show off and use his wealth to make friends, but it made him more enemies than anything. Not that Sunwoo minded, but he would always hope that it never ran you off. Unbeknownst to you, he felt just as strongly for you as you did for him.

“Stop staring at him!” You heard someone say as everyone got settled into their seats before class.

You turned to the voice and came face to face with your best friend and, of course, Sunwoo’s best friend, Eric Sohn.

“Why are you bothering me, Eric?” You asked the boy, eyeing him this time.

Eric grinned. “Oh come on, you love me.”

You fought back the small grin appearing on your face as Eric laughed. You rolled your eyes slightly before bringing them back to the dark-haired male sitting on the other side of the room.

“You know, if you just tell him how you feel then this whole little cat and mouse game will go much easier.” Eric whispered.

You shook your head. “Why would I set myself up for that type of embarrassment?”

He snorted. “Is it really embarrassing if he likes you back?”

It was your turn to snort as the teacher walked through the door. Eric gave you a little look before hopping up from the seat he was in and heading to sit with his best friend, preparing to give Sunwoo the same little “peptalk” he had given you.

“Alright students, I have the results of your previous exams. Some of you did very well, others, not so much. These will be representative on your final grades at the end of the year, so I suggest that the ones who didn’t do too well, start being perfect from here on out.” The teacher said as he handed out the scores to everyone.

A quiet scoff was heard from across the room and you smiled to yourself, knowing exactly who it was coming from.

“Is something wrong Mr. Kim?” The teacher asked, calling out Sunwoo.

All the attention turned to the cocky boy sitting by the door as he shook his head with a confident smile. “Not at all. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

The teacher eyed him for a moment before nodding as he continued handing out the test scores. You got your paper as you looked over the typed out black font. The score you saw made you smile, you passed. Looking at the rank on the paper you noticed there was a score above yours. You knew exactly who it was. You looked over at his side of the room, seeing him staring right back at you.

“Good job.” He mouthed.

You smiled. “Thank you.”

He gave you a smile from across the room before feeling a tap on his shoulder. “Dear lord, just tell her how you feel?”

Sunwoo kept his eyes on you as he shook his head. “No way.”

“Why not?” Eric asked the boy.

Sunwoo turned himself around in his chair to look at his best friend. The blonde streaks in Eric’s hair catching Sunwoo’s eyes as he spoke.

“Eric, she doesn’t like me. She just sees me the same way the rest of the school sees me. A snobby rich kid who gets away with everything.” Sunwoo said with a sigh.

He heard Eric snicker as he narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

Eric shrugged. “I mean, isn’t that what you are?”

Sunwoo punched Eric’s arm as he let a smile fall on his face. “As my best friend, you’re not supposed to agree with the crowd.”

The teacher went on and on as he gave the class a lecture about your next assignment. When the bell rang to dismiss class, Sunwoo watched the numerous people that stopped by your desk to congratulate you on your score, or just to stop and talk to you. He admired that about you. He sometimes wished he didn’t have this awful snob attitude, but he knew that he made up that image himself, so he had to deal with it.

You headed towards the door before stopping in front of the two boys.

“So Sunwoo, how much did you pay the teacher so you could pass the exam?” You asked in a teasing tone.

Despite his clear knowledge that you were joking, Sunwoo knew that in the back of everyone else’s minds they were thinking the same statement in a more serious mindset.

“How much do you think?” Sunwoo teased back, causing you to laugh.

You threw your head back to let out that beautiful laugh that Sunwoo had absolutely fallen in love with throughout the years. He just thought it was the most amazing sound in the world.

“Hey, why don’t you join us for lunch?” Eric suddenly asked, making Sunwoo freeze.

Sunwoo turned to Eric, ready to punch him in the face before hearing your voice.

“I’d love to. That is if Sunwoo is okay with it?” You asked softly, feeling your heartbeat out of your chest as you awaited the answer.

The boy tore his gaze off of his best friend as he nodded immediately. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s perfect!”

Eric smirked at both of you as he pushed through the two of you towards the door. “I’ll meet you guys at lunch. I need to find someone first.”

He rushed out of the classroom as you turned to Sunwoo. You went to speak before someone beat you to it.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” You both heard someone say as Sunwoo’s head followed the voice.

A tall boy that was younger than you both said softly.

“Jisung, what’s up?” Sunwoo suddenly asked.

You stepped aside to let the two boys talk before being pulled away by a friend of yours. She walked with you to your locker before looking at you.

“I don’t get why you like him. He’s so rude.” She said.

You smiled to yourself as you laid your books inside the metal walls of your locker. “He’s not, though. Sunwoo is so sweet.”

Your friend sighed. “He paid the teacher so he could pass the exam.”

You shrugged. “To each his own.”

She snorted. “You have a weird taste in guys.

This caused you to laugh as you closed your locker. “You just have to get to know him better, that’s all.”

You both walked to the lunch room as you headed towards the table Eric was already seated at with a plate full of food in front of him. With him was another boy that you didn’t know as you looked around for Sunwoo. Eric waved you over before pulling you down into the seat next to him. This gave you a good look at the boy sitting across from you as he lifted his head, smiling.

“This is Bomin! Bomin this is my friend I was telling you about earlier.” Eric introduced the both of you.

Bomin nodded as he brought his dark eyes back to you, his lips stretching into a big grin.

“I’m Bomin. It’s nice to meet you.” He said in a deep, almost baritone voice as he reached across the table to shake your hand.

You smiled. “It’s nice to meet you too, Bomin.”

Eric took a little more time getting you and Bomin more acquainted as a mischievous smirk bloomed on his face when he saw Sunwoo walk through the door. It didn’t take long for Sunwoo to recognize the boy that was chatting you up as he sat down on the other side of Eric.

“Bomin, how have you been?” Sunwoo asked, rather curtly.

Bomin didn’t seem to notice the way in which his friend greeted him as he put his conversation on hold with you to reply.

“What’s up Sunwoo? Eric invited me for lunch. I wasn't too busy with school work so I thought I’d actually come to lunch for once.” Bomin said, making both Eric and you laugh.

Sunwoo watched the interaction between you two as Eric watched the boy bore holes into Bomin. This was exactly what Eric wanted.

“So, still focusing entirely on school?” Sunwoo asked, rather rudely.

Bomin smiled. “I am. Are you still bullying people to death with your wealth?”

Of course, Bomin was joking. This wasn’t an unusual statement that he would address Sunwoo with, but at this very moment, Sunwoo didn’t exactly appreciate it.

“Old habits die hard, I’m afraid.” Sunwoo whispered out, picking at the food in front of him.

The rest of the lunch was just Sunwoo watching Bomin flirt with you, and much to his heartache, you flirting back. It all came to a boiling point for Sunwoo.

“You know, Bomin, you’re sitting next to a top notch student.” Eric said, gathering everyone’s attention.

Bomin looked at you with a smile. “Really? Well I’m always looking to improve. Perhaps I should get your number?”

A shy smile grew on your face as you nodded before there was a slam on the table. Both you and Bomin jumped as the three of you watched Sunwoo storm off from the table.

You looked at Eric as he watched him. “What’s wrong with Sunwoo?”

Eric shrugged, continuing to eat as you narrowed your eyes at the boy.

“I hope everything is alright.” Bomin said softly.

You excused yourself from the table as you headed down the same path as Sunwoo. Getting to the front entrance of the school, you noticed Sunwoo sitting on the hood of his car. He was talking to himself as you made your way towards him.

“Eric told me you had grown out of that.” You said jokingly.

Sunwoo lifted his head as he eyed you. “No Bomin?”

You scrunched up your nose. “Did you want me to bring him?”

Sunwoo scoffed. “Not a chance.”

“Since when are you so unhappy about being around one of your best friends? To be honest, you didn’t seem all that thrilled that he joined us for lunch.” You pointed out.

Sunwoo shrugged. “Sometimes his presence can get a bit overwhelming.”

You smiled slightly as you could finally feel what Sunwoo was getting at.

“Are you jealous of Bomin?” You asked Sunwoo, taking a step closer to him to close the gap.

The tip of your feet were now about an inch from Sunwoo’s as he shook his head.

“Why would I be jealous of Bomin? I’ve got no reason to be. I’m rich. He isn’t. I’ve got more than he does.” Sunwoo said.

You nodded before hearing him speak again. “Maybe that’s why you like him. Because he isn’t like me.”

Not understanding what he was saying, you spoke up. “What do you mean?”

“You like Bomin. It’s obvious. He’s smart and kind. It makes sense. He’s everything I’m not.” Sunwoo said, picking at his fingers.

You shook your head. “No. Sunwoo, I don’t like Bomin. I’ll admit he’s a sweetheart, but he’s definitely not my type.”

Sunwoo lifted his head to look you in the eyes as he quietly whispered. “Then what is your type.”

This was it. The make or break moment that could change the course of your friendship forever.

“You are. You’re my type.” You breathed out.

“I, I am?” Sunwoo asked, standing up from the hood of his car.

You nodded. “Isn’t it obvious? I’ve liked you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I’m not going to lie, I kind of befriended Eric just to get closer to you. It was just an added bonus that he ended up becoming one of my closest friends.”

This caused Sunwoo to smile. “I thought I was being obvious as well.”

You looked at him confused as he spoke again. “I like you. A lot! Eric had been pushing me for months to tell you how I feel. I always thought you didn’t like me.”

“Eric had been telling me the same thing, but I always thought you didn’t like me.” You replied back.

Sunwoo reached for both of your hands, making your heart swell as he chuckled. “I guess us being rich doesn’t make us too smart, now does it?”

You giggled. “Not if we keep paying off our teachers.”

Sunwoo rolled his eyes at your teasing gesture as he pulled you into him, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“You know I don’t actually pay my teachers off, right?” He asked seriously.

You looked at him. “Sunwoo, you know I don’t think that about you. I just like teasing you.”

Sunwoo pecked your forehead as he smiled. “So I guess we should probably go back in and tell Eric.”

You shook your head. “Not a chance. He’ll use that and hold it over our heads for the rest of our lives. Besides, we can always go back to your place or mine and just spend a bit more time together.”

As if knowing what you were getting at, Sunwoo pulled away from you to open the passenger side door. “Why go to my place when the backseat of my car is big enough.”

You pushed at his chest as you spoke. “Easy there, tiger. A date first would be better.”

Sunwoo snorted as he opened the driver’s side door. “Oh I’m sorry. Weren’t you the one suggesting it first?”

You gave him a shrug. “If you take me on a date now, and it goes well, maybe I’ll reward you. In the backseat of your car.”

Sunwoo smirked. “You got yourself a deal, babe.”

You both hopped into his car, leaving the school parking lot without realizing your shared best friend standing with a triumphant smile on his face. He definitely planned on teasing the two of you about this the next time he saw you.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Company Upgrade Dates (Eng Translation)

🍒This post contains detailed spoilers for dates unreleased in English servers!🍒

I accidentally skipped the first set of Season 2 dates, the “Company Upgrade” Collection, thinking they were just Rumours & Secrets:

These dates are important as a starting point for future S2 dates! They are mostly in bullet-point form, but all plot points and important dialogue are covered ❤️

⚡️ Shaw’s Way Home Date (归路之约) ⚡️

MC arrives at Loveland City airport after a business trip and receives a text from Shaw stating that he’d be picking her up 

(even though she didn’t give him any details of her flight)

He appears, in all his glory, on a skateboard

Shaw picks up her luggage and also shows genuine concern for her work and how tired she looks

MC: I can carry it myself.

As soon as I stretch out my hand, Shaw spins the luggage around in a circle so I can’t reach it.

Shaw: If you carry it yourself, I wouldn’t have any purpose for coming here.

DELICIOUS BANTER

MC: Oh right, why did you think of picking me up?

Shaw: It was along on the way. Or I did it on a whim. Whatever reason you like.

MC: ...

Even after a week of not seeing him, this brat’s words are still as annoying.

MORE DELICIOUS BANTER

MC: Don’t you have class in the afternoon today?

Shaw: There’s class, but I skipped it.

MC: It’s not good to skip classes.

Shaw: It isn’t good, so I informed the teacher beforehand.

MC: Eh? What did you say?

Shaw: I said that I hadn’t seen my girlfriend in a month, so I want to pick her up.

MC: What...!?

Hearing this, my heartbeat goes into a frenzy.

Shaw: You really believed me?

Shaw asks MC to cook him dinner as thanks for travelling the great distance to pick her up

They return home by subway, but it’s incredibly packed

Shaw pulls her to a corner

My back leans against the wall of the train carriage. Standing in front of me, Shaw places a hand on the wall beside me, separate me from the crowd.

MC: What are you doing?

Shaw: Can’t you see?

He lifts his other hand and places it onto the wall of the train carriage, encircling me with this pose, which is reminiscent of a hug. He creates an empty corner in the crowded train. 

She falls asleep, and he holds onto her shoulders so she doesn’t sway

Shaw: Hey. We’re going to miss the stop. If you don’t wake up soon, I’ll have to carry you back.

MC: !!

After they leave the train:

MC: I didn’t think I’d actually fall asleep.

I turn and sneak a glance at Shaw’s side profile. He senses my gaze and meets my eyes.

Shaw: Not only that. You even drooled.  

MC: N-no way...

I hurriedly look at his shoulders, but can’t see any traces of dampness. I let out a huge sigh of relief.

MC: Is it very fun to lie to me?

Shaw: It’s your fault for having such interesting reactions.

At home, Shaw wolfs down her cooking. It turns out he was busy and didn’t have lunch T^T

He even helps tidy and wash the dishes for her

Afterwards, she finds him in the balcony and asks what he has been busy with

Shaw brushes them off as “unimportant things”

MC suddenly says she wants to hear him play the bass

Shaw re-enters the house and brings out an erhu instead (since MC doesn’t have a bass)

Shaw makes the erhu play her name and a “you are stupid”

MC: Why are you scolding me?

I suddenly feel a little gloomy, but he continues playing a few notes. Even though my mind hasn’t figured it out yet, my heart beat speeds up.

Shaw: Do you understand?

Shaw puts down the musical instrument and crosses the handrail over to me.

The dim light from behind the curtains is reflected in his eyes, as though filled with unwavering momentum.

Shaw: You have a really slow reaction.

Accompanying his ridicule, what enters my ears is the rumble of thunder from the clear sky.

Shaw straightens up, and his corners of his mouth hook upwards.

Shaw: It’s going to rain.

-

Shaw’s Call: here

-

🌻 Kiro’s Show Date (戏中之约) 🌻

This date basically shows how MC and Kiro share a very light-hearted relationship, where he likes teasing her

MC is at the scene of Kiro’s filming location, and comments on how realistic the effects are

Kiro is filming a gunfight, and the atmosphere is very tense

The famous Kiro Pointing A Gun At Himself™ scene occurs as part of the filming

Kiro: Since we can only pick between one of us, take my life, and you’ll be safe. It’s nothing worth being surprised over. There’s only one person who I’m willing to exchange my life for. So, tell me your answer.

There is mockery and paranoia in his eyes, but not a trace of fear.

It’s as though he already knows the other party’s choice... even if his bet is wrong, he will continue enjoying this game.

Even if death is what awaits him at the end.

Director: OK, cut!

Kiro’s seamless performance garners applause from the audience

After that, Kiro and MC head to an open air restaurant

Kiro what choice MC would make if she were the protagonist of the show and one of them has to die

MC: I’ll change the script, so the both of us can live.

Kiro keeps teasing her e.g. eating her half-eaten biscuit

She suddenly hears a loud sound, and she grabs Kiro’s hand

There are a series of explosions below as part of the special effects from the filming site

Kiro: Even though almost everything you saw today was artificial, you can remember the me of right now. The me in front of you is the real me.

I turn back to Kiro, who looks at me at the same time. His fingers are on the back of my hand. The temperature and touch are extremely real.

And the memories belonging to us will always remain in this real moment.

-

Kiro’s Call: here

-

🌹 Victor’s Secret Date (隐秘之约) 🌹

MC wakes up and finds herself in an unknown underground facility. From the unknown voices in the beginning, it’s clear she wasn’t the target of the kidnap

Victor is with her too, and they briefly go through what happened beforehand: MC and Victor were on their way to the carpark at around 7pm after going through a report

The doors aren’t locked, and they aren’t tied up

Victor: I’ll give you five minutes to adjust your state of mind.

His sentence, which came out of nowhere, startles me slightly.

Looking at his expressionless face, I suddenly realise something and laugh.

Victor: What are you laughing at?

MC: Are you... concerned about me?

Victor: ...instead of asking unrelated questions, spend your time on something useful. You still have 4 minutes and 8 seconds.

Victor gets her to check the area right outside the door. When she returns, Victor tells her to stay close to him, and grabs on to her

He reveals that he can no longer see

Despite his temporary blindness, he’s very calm

He speculates that the reason why they’re here is to keep Victor away from an auction taking place the day after they got kidnapped (which is the present moment)

Victor hands her his cuffs, which are actually electronic transceivers

MC: Boss, actually... you can give me a direct order to bring you out of here. This place looks like an abandoned experiment site, so...

I leave the remaining speculations in my heart. The people who threw us here... did they do it just to prevent Victor from participating in the auction?

We’re surrounded by darkness. I hold the electronic transceiver to find the exit.

Victor follows behind me, sometimes pointing out the correct direction.

MC: Victor, are you sure you really can’t see? Is this just a test for me...

Victor: ...you’re the one who is testing me. Do you want to get hit and become even more stupid?

He gently pulls me to his side, preventing me from turning around and hitting the wall in front.

Victor: After walking for such a long time, you still don’t know the approximate distance?

MC: Right now, I think you might be able to make it in time for the auction.

Victor: Being optimistic is good, but...

Suddenly, they hear someone walking around and shouting extremely loudly

Victor uses his palms to cover MC’s ears <3

MC musters her courage, stops herself from trembling, and finds a place for them to hide

Right now, there’s no time to figure out who this person is. No matter what, I can’t let Victor get hurt here.

I promised him once before.

The sound of the footsteps eventually disappear

MC: You weren’t worried that I’d accidentally bring us to that insane person?

Pulling Victor into a dark corner, I do my best to adjust my breathing, and force my voice not to tremble.

Victor: Since I said that I’d trust you, I wouldn’t doubt you.

Victor guesses that the people who brought them here aren’t out for their lives, or they wouldn’t be allowed to roam freely

MC then wonders why they had to blind Victor, and points out that the man just now seemed deranged. She guesses that it’s a result of simply being in the underground facility. Someone wanted him to know about the existence of the facility, but not give further details

MC: I have a question, but I’m not sure if I should bring it up.

Victor: There will be Arab merchants bringing new reagents to the auction. They contain certain special elements.

MC: I haven’t even asked.

Victor: Was my answer wrong?

I smile secretly, lowering my eyes to look at our overlapping hands.

MC: You answered wrongly. I wanted to say that even the dignified CEO of LFG can get kidnapped in such a confusing manner, and even get his eyes hurt.

Victor: If you want to obtain a precious prey, you need to prepare a cherished bait.

MC: Could it be...

Victor: That auction is also a bait.

At 7pm, there’s a signal from the electronic transceiver, and they leave the underground facility

Security reaches the scene, and Goldman comes rushing over

Victor sends a few men to the facility to investigate

Victor asks MC to follow him, and it’s clear that he doesn’t want anyone to know of his temporary blindness

MC watches as Victor successfully clips on his seatbelt:

Victor: I’m able to feel it.

MC: ...I wasn’t looking at you!

MC wonders where they’re heading to since they’re late for the auction. Victor tells her that they’re going to a winery

When she looks at the rearview mirror, she sees that the place they were at has caught on fire

MC: Did you already sense that something was amiss with the auction?

Victor: Mm. That Arab merchant is just a guise. Behind him is a private arms organisation. They used the Arab merchant just to gauge the interest level for their reagent.

MC: Didn’t you say it was an auction you needed to attend?

Victor: They just wanted to ensure good faith.

MC: And there’s no need now?

Victor: Now, there is a different way to show my sincerity.

Once they reach the winery, Victor hands MC a gun

Victor: Can I continue trusting you?

MC: You have no other choice.

In the winery, the merchant tries to push the reagent to Victor

Merchant: Does CEO Victor have doubts regarding the efficacy of the medicine? It has already gone through tests, and it can...

Victor: I need to doubt medicine that causes mental breakdowns when injected?

Merchant: ...

Victor: I’m not interested in your medicine. The thing I want is your newly mined ore field. All of it. I don’t need technical staff.

Merchant: CEO Victor’s transaction seems to be overly greedy.

Victor: I’ve said it before - I’m uninterested in your defective products. Apart from LFG, no other company can meet your capital needs.

Merchant: Aren’t you being too confident? The world is pretty big. Maybe the STF can give us similar support.

Victor: In that case, you better ensure your safety and leave Loveland City before obtaining their support. One thing LFG doesn’t lack is business partners. Meeting you personally is enough to express my sincerity.

The transaction is completed

They head to LFG, and Victor tells her to drive back

BRACE YOURSELF FOR A CUTE SCENE:

MC: Victor, I’ll send you upstairs.

Victor: No need.

MC: Your eyes...

Victor: I’ll handle it, don’t worry. You did very well today. I owe you a favour.

Victor doesn’t give me a chance to respond. He opens the car door and heads towards the main entrance of LFG.

I release a secret sigh and hastily leave the car to walk to his side.

MC: That’s the side entrance. The side entrance of LFG doesn’t open at night.

Victor: ...do you know LFG better than I do?

Switching his direction, he walks confidently towards the railing near the main entrance.

I hurriedly grab onto his sleeve in order to make this brave man stop.

The night has softened his cold edges. His shoulders are straight. Ever since what happened with his eyes, he hasn’t uttered a single word of frustration.

Perhaps he’d never say such words.

Sensing my quietness, Victor lets out a soft sigh. He turns his head slightly, then closes his eyes in resignation.

Victor: Since you want to be responsible, take responsibility till the end. Before my day lights up, don’t think of leaving.

-

Victor’s Call: here

-

🦋 Lucien’s Bondage Date (束缚之约) 🦋

MC receives a call from the newest member of Black Swan. He proudly proclaims that he has caught a “big fish” who has agreed to provide important information only if MC personally goes to the interrogation room

She receives a photo of the “big fish” - it’s Lucien.

And she knows something is amiss because Lucien isn’t someone who would get caught so easily

When she reaches the interrogation room, Lucien is tied up and injured

Even so...

His smile and posture are not those of a caged prisoner. Instead, it’s as though he’s waiting in the dark for his prey to enter a trap...

A successful hunter.

Lucien: What’s wrong? You’re not happy to see me like this? Just now, someone mentioned that... I’m a surprise prepared for you.

I clench my teeth hard, and exert more strength as I grip the iron cage.

MC: ...are you okay?

Lucien: Are you showing concern for me?

MC: I just want to know what exactly you’re planning.

Lucien: I don’t quite understand Miss MC’s meaning. Shouldn’t you tell me what you’re planing to do with me, since you were the one who made me like this?

MC: You...

MC clarifies that she didn’t know Lucien would be brought here

Lucien keeps toying with her so she snaps

MC: Professor Lucien, I think you can clearly see the situation before you. Right now, you are a “guest” invited by Black Swan. If you want to get out, you have to prove your worth. If you don’t give us something of equivalent value, we won’t let you leave.

Lucien: Equivalent value... you make sense. In that case, what do you want then? Perhaps with more specific questions, I can give you more satisfactory answers.

MC: ...I’m not a student who’s asking you questions!

Lucien: My student would never be so fierce towards me. I’m already like this, and you still don’t believe my sincerity? I’ve thought of a piece of secret information you may be interested in. This matter involves Black Swan and core members of the STF, and it’s a secret I’ve been keeping.

MC: Lucien, are you being serious?

Lucien: It would be revealed sooner of later. Knowing it earlier could be of some help to you. If you want to know, come closer to me.

I freeze involuntarily, casting a glance at the single-sided glass separating us from the surveillance room.

Lucien: As a representative of Black Swan, shouldn’t you show me some good faith if you want the information?

She goes closer to him, but he keeps toying with her e.g. telling her that he’s cold so she should come closer to warm him up. Finally, he speaks.

Lucien: Actually, I have an arrangement with someone in Black Swan.

MC: What you mean by “arrangement”? An agent you planted?

Lucien: If you put it that way, I can't deny it. A person I planned on bringing along with me when I left this place. It’s just that back then, the timing wasn’t ripe yet.

MC: After you left, did you remain in contact with the person who kept you informed about the organisation’s internal affairs?

Lucien: Yes.

MC: ...who is it?

I stare at Lucien, my heart beating rapidly. I can’t tell if my emotions can be called anger or something else.

Lucien’s eyes continue to sparkle. He arches the corners of his mouth, as though in a good mood.

That layer of suppressed anger dissipates, and I suddenly realise something.

MC: ...Lucien, don’t speak nonsense.

Lucien: I never lie. You should know that clearly.  

MC: You...

Lucien: That person is a female.

MC knows that every word and action is being watched by the people in the surveillance room

Lucien: We’ve known each other for a long time. After leaving the organisation... she has been the one taking the initiative to look for me most of the time.

MC: Nonsense! You’re just-

Lucien: Of course, I miss her a lot. Perhaps there is a tacit understanding between us. Whenever I miss her, she will appear.

MC: But the relationship between the two of you is simply sharing the benefits of exchanging information, am I right?

Lucien: ...is that so? It sounds like there isn’t a relationship at all. Did you know? Sometimes, feelings are part of a beneficial exchange. Many people simply don’t realise it, and lose out in the process. With this thought in mind, perhaps those people are the ultimate winners.

At this point, the STF barges in. Lucien frees himself from the ropes.

Lucien: I wasn’t speaking nonsense. I do have someone I want to take with me.

I feel a tightening on my wrists and I exclaim in surprise. Both my hands have been gently bound in front of me, bringing with it a silky touch.

Lucien: Now, can I take you away?

MC: ...that’s not possible.

I look him in the eyes. In the darkness, the rotating red lights occasionally flash across his face, looking blurry and dangerous.

MC: I’ve said it before. It’s all right if you choose to walk down another path, because I’ll walk the remaining half of this path on your behalf. I’ll prove to you that the decision we made at the beginning was not wrong.

Lucien ...I got it.

At this moment, I seem to understand the true loneliness in this man’s eyes than ever before. At the same time, I feel as though I’m the person he has lied to the most in the world.

Lucien: In that case, sleep for a while...

Realising what he’s about to do, I try to escape.

Lucien’s palm has already covered my eyes, the warmth reminiscent of a cloud which has been under the sun for a long time.

MC: Lucien... you're lying to me again.

Lucien: What?

MC: You...

His voice trembles in my ear. In my hazy state, I don’t know if I said the words in my heart.

He lied so that I would enter this cold iron cell and warm him up.

But his hands are burning hot, as though the temperature had been stored for a long time, reserving it for the lady who has gotten frozen in order to find him.

MC: Lucien, you don’t... feel cold at all, right?

~

When MC awakes, she’s at home. She feels an itch on her wrist and sees rope marks

She receives a notification on her phone telling her that the underground interrogation room has been sealed by the STF, but there aren’t any traces left of what happened yesterday

The interrogation materials have also been wiped

The doorbell rings, and it’s Lucien

MC: Are you Mr Advisor, or Professor Lucien?

Lucien: Right now, I’m just a neighbour who is inviting you for dinner. Will you do me the honour?

MC: Mm... I happen to be a little hungry.

Lucien smiles. When he takes my hand, his eyes fall on the ribbon tied to my wrist.

Lucien: Is this... a new ornament?

...oh no, I forgot to take it off last night.

Looking at his expression, which clearly shows that he knows what’s going on, I nod and pretend nothing happened.

MC: Even I don’t know where it came from. Come to think of it, could it have been you?

I ask Lucien, lifting my head while changing my shoes at the entrance.

He smiles, his warm fingertips gliding across my wrist. He chuckles lightly while unravelling the delicate knot.

Lucien: Next time, I’ll tie it a little more tightly.

-

Lucien’s Call: here

-

💔 Gavin’s Stray Date (迷途之约) 💔

MC is in a hut on a cliff by the sea looking for someone

She spots a familiar figure 👀

She tries to sneak away because she doesn’t want trouble, but the wind lifts her off the ground and brings her over to Gavin

Gavin: Care to explain?

Gavin lifts his head and arches his brows slightly. Both hands are crossed in front of his chest as he watches me hover in the air.

MC: I... was just preparing for a future photoshoot.

While he tries to catch her in a lie, he uses his Evol to gradually make her hover above the ocean...

MC: You... this is against the rules!

Gavin: I’ve always used my own methods to resolve issues.

MC tries to suppress her trembling, and reaches out to maintain her balance. She then realises that the air currents around her are controlled very well to ensure she doesn’t fall - Gavin is just trying to scare her

She calms down and relaxes her posture, even smiling at him

Gavin: [sighs] You’re not afraid?

He closes his eyes and sighs softly, bringing me closer to the cliff. He still doesn’t put me down.

MC: I said it before - I’m not afraid of you. So, you can’t scare me.

Gavin: What relation do you have with that person?

MC: Does STF’s mission have something to do with that person?

Gavin: This has nothing to do with you.

MC: In that case, my answer also has nothing to do with you.

His fingertips tremble and he looks straight at me. I sit on the air current and clench my fists, staring back at him.

MC: Gavin, I also have things I want to use my own methods to resolve. He has taken something he shouldn’t have. I’m not sure about the rest of it, and I don’t want to know.

The strength of the air current gradually becomes weaker. I try to maintain my balance, but Gavin suddenly holds me gently.

With one hand, he grabs my wrist. With the other, he brushes my back so I can stand on the ground steadily.

He must have stood here for a long time - he smells of the ocean breeze.

Gavin takes half a step back. This wordless hug was so brief that it almost feels like a hallucination.

Gavin: He has always been on the STF’s wanted list. For three years.

~

A few days later, MC uses intelligence from the STF to look for the man

Under the cover of the sprinkler system of the hotel, she looks for the USB drive in the man’s room

Gavin suddenly breaks the window and enters the room

The first thing he does is to scan the room for a fire... and only after he sees there isn’t any, he rushes to MC (does this mean he still has a phobia of fire?? 😭)

Just when you think this isn’t painful enough:

After pressing the off button, he casually wipes off the water droplets from his forehead and fringe. When his hair curls up in the air, it actually looks pretty cute.

That strawberry hairband and resigned expression suddenly flash before my eyes.

A curtain of water clouds my vision. I blink repeatedly, forcing myself to focus on the present.

[Note: It’s a reference to Gavin’s Prank Date]

While they talk, they discover that it was neither STF nor MC who set off the fire alarm. The man had escaped with the help of somebody else

Gavin puts a jacket over MC and carries her out of the window

MC asks if they can work together, but Gavin says:

Gavin: That’s not the way I work. The thing you’re looking for is unrelated to Black Swan, so I won’t look into it. But this doesn’t mean it’d be the same next time.

When he reaches the ground, he holds me in his arms and walks to the ambulance, blocking me from the sight of onlookers.

Gavin: She suffered some injuries just now. Bring her to the hospital.

After speaking, he lifts the jacket that’s covering my face, and leans close to my ear.

Gavin: Don’t involve yourself in this matter again.

~

Later, MC leaves the hospital, hugging Gavin’s jacket. She’s at the port.

A few minutes ago, she received a call telling her that the man plans to leave Loveland City through the port that night

It’s also revealed that the man betrayed Black Swan

Suddenly thinking of something, she calls Gavin, who already knows of the man’s plans to leave Loveland City

MC voices her suspicions that the person helping the man isn’t simply helping him escape out of kindness. From her investigations, the man hasn’t kept in contact with anyone after leaving Black Swan three years ago

Gavin says he’d head to the port, but MC says there isn’t enough time

Gavin: I know what you’re thinking. You don’t have to worry about these things. All you have to do is keep yourself safe, and leave the rest of it to me.

MC persuades him to direct her so she can find him quickly, since STF would need some time to arrive

MC: Gavin, you have to trust me. Trust me, all right?

Gavin: You have to promise.

MC: I promise nothing will happen to me, and that I have my ways of protecting myself. And I also trust that you’d give me the correct judgments.

I’m no longer that person who only knows how to let you stand in front of me. This time, I’ll stand beside you, and will not back down.

MC: Gavin, I’m at the unloading zone.

The lights from the cold machine are reflected in his eyes. Beneath his palm is the entire port.

He forces himself to lean against the chair instead of immediately rushing to the girl’s side.

Gavin: In 50 metres, there are two people at two o'clock. The target is moving towards Area C. There’s no rush. Your speed is faster than him.

MC: That’s a shuttle bus I “borrowed”.

Hearing the girl’s slightly satisfied tone, he can’t help but let out a secret smile.

Gavin: [softly laughs] Turn right.

MC: Did you just laugh...

Gavin: No.

MC: Don’t think you can lie just because I can’t see you.

Gavin: ...

MC: I guessed correctly, right? If it’s you, you’d definitely say something along the lines of “I won’t lie to you”.

Gavin: Didn’t you lie to me in front of the hut?

MC: ...

Gavin: Turn left in front. He’s stopped.

MC: I don’t have a choice sometimes...

The girl sounds as though she’s been wronged. Her voice goes round and round, worming into the tip of his heart, and gently prodding it twice.

Gavin: I...

MC: Gavin! I think I see him!

I hide behind a container secretly, watching as the man looks around furtively, as though waiting for someone.

A red dot appears on his back, and trails upwards.

MC: !!!

I rush forward quickly, throwing two black objects in the direction where the red light came from.

In the dense smoke screen, the man sees that things are amiss, and whips out a detonator from the pocket of his coat.

A massive explosion sounds. I grip the man’s collar tightly, but am held in a warm embrace the very next second.

MC: Gavin?!

Gavin: Did you really think I’d let you come here alone?

~

Gavin: So this is your way of protecting yours-

Comical ribbons fall lightly on the top of Gavin’s head, hanging in front of his left eye. 

His bright amber eyes blink. Gavin turns his head to look at the sky full of coloured ribbons. 

A gigantic inflatable man holds a banner with the word “surprise”, and it sways in the wind. 

The man freezes in place while holding onto the detonator, looking as though he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

MC: I knew early on that there’d be something “special” here. How is it? I said I had my ways. Unexpected, right? 

Gavin lifts his hand, gently removing the ribbon next to my ear. He fails to suppress a smile. 

Gavin: Unexpected. But we’ll talk about this later. 

He stands up, looking coldly at the man cowering in the corner. 

Gavin: MC, turn around. 

MC: Okay...

I listen to Gavin and turn around obediently. The moon hides behind the clouds, as though carrying a sense of pity. 

Soon after, Gavin receives news that the sniper has been brought under control.

After explaining how the sniper was caught, Gavin places something on the top of her head - it’s the USB she’s been searching for

MC: Even though I really didn't do anything bad, you’re just giving it to me directly? You don’t need to check it? 

Gavin: I’m taking it away if you keep asking. 

MC: I won’t ask, I won’t ask. 

However, MC has another question - how did Gavin appear at the scene when he should have been in STF’s command room? 

Gavin doesn’t give her a straightforward answer

Gavin: I was at the control system, but I could also come here. That’s it.

[And then Papergames cuts me deep by playing Gavin’s S1 bgm out of nowhere...]

At this moment, sirens blare in the distance. The special reinforcements have arrived.

I dig into my bag and realise my car keys are missing.

 A bunch of bright keys slide in the air and fall into my palm.

MC: I even thought you’d detain me for an investigation.

Gavin: Aren’t you...

He pauses, and he retracts the words on his lips. After a long time, he speaks slowly.

Gavin: You didn’t do anything bad, right? 

Gavin turns his head to the side. The crescent moon hides his eyes in the night. 

Gavin: Didn't you ask me to trust you? 

His voice is very light. It’s so light that once the words leave his lips, they are immediately swallowed up by the night wind. 

MC: What? 

Gavin: You’re still not leaving? Do you really want me to detain you? 

I purse my lips at him, then grip the car keys as I run in the direction of the car park Gavin told me about. I suddenly think of something, and turn around. 

MC: Isn’t it very convenient to work with me? If you keep rejecting me, you’ll lose out. I suggest you consider it properly next time. 

Gavin: All right, I’ll consider it. The next time you face danger, you don’t need to rush into it alone. It’s quite silly. 

MC: You...

Gavin: You can call my name.

-

Do you know why this hurts so much? Because he’s unintentionally referencing his very first date - the Relieving Date:

-

Gavin’s call: here

-

🌸 MOMENTS 🌸

Gavin’s Post: Another coincidence?

MC: I even feel like I'm staging it.

Gavin: Having your car break down doesn’t count.

[Note: I translated “staging it” from “碰瓷”, which refers to how some drivers manoeuvre unsuspecting motorists into crashes in order to make false insurance claims.]

-

Gavin’s Post: Another coincidence?

MC: I didn’t think my car would break down outside the STF entrance, causing trouble for you again.

Gavin: It’s okay, it’s no effort at all.

-

Gavin’s Post: Another coincidence?

MC: My engine might have its own ideas... but thank you for your wind in helping me move the car.

Gavin: Ahem, it’s just safer that way. 

[sincerelystranger]

Omg! I love your new piece about different types of love!! I’d super interested to see the dynamics in Modern AU where there’s no loss of war, of golden core, no grief of 13 years, how would their love change? Would they be less mature or would they be more wholesome and sweeter?

Hello! Thank you so much ♥️ I think it could go a lot of different ways~ but, of course, I’m a sucker for the sweet version. Some HC’s for modern yunmeng bro’s relationship:

- WWX isn’t officially adopted but everyone knows he’s being taken care of by the Jiangs

- JC gets a lot of “street cred” at school just by being WWX’s “brother”

- A lot of teachers are extra nice to him because they’re just so thankful that he isn’t like WWX

- No senior ever picks on him or even tries to order him around

- Lots of kids in his class ask about WWX (he’s sort of legendary at school)

- JC pretends to be annoyed by it (and sometimes he really is annoyed by it) but internally he actually loves it - its nice to feel superior than everyone just by virtue of being related to someone considered ‘cool’

- WWX is pretty popular at school but he has no actual friends and always wants to hang out with JC

- JC acts annoyed by this but he loves it and it makes him feel more secure (he always feels a little nervous about where he stands with WWX because he knows they’re not really related)

- JC gets irrationally angry once WWX starts hanging out with LWJ. Feels like he’s getting replaced. Fears he will lose WWX

- They fight a lot during this time - real fights. Not the little spats they normally get into. There might be one or two punches thrown. And all of it could be avoided if JC just admitted to being jealous, but JC would rather die than admit to having any other emotion than anger

- It all comes to a head when WWX asks if JC is mad at him because he hates that WWX is dating another man (r u a HOMOPHOBE?!)

- “Wait... you..? Dating? Who??”

- “LAN ZHAN!”

- JC relaxes a lot after this revelation (him and WWX also went through something similar when Yanli started dating peacock)

- JC and WWX start hanging out normally again except LWJ joins them a lot.

- JC doesn’t explicitly dislike LWJ but he thinks WWX could do better

I don’t think I really answered ur question but I got so carried away thinking about modern yunmeng bro’s it became this lol! Sorry and thank you!!

[ithebookhoarder]

Chapter 19: In Sickness and in Health (The Gangster’s Daughter)

Description: Life for Tommy Shelby was pretty ordinary; all he ever had to worry about were his family, their business and the Blinders. Nothing more, nothing less. Well, that was until his ‘daughter’, a twelve-year-old girl called Evelyn Westmore, was thrown into his life, dredging up feelings and things from the past he’d done very well to forget.

Also available on AO3:

Warnings: Original Character(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Explicit Language, Gangsters, Period Typical Attitudes, Parent Tommy Shelby, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent.

Masterlist:

----

The next morning was when Evie finally learned the definition of a hangover. A real hangover. Like, Arthur after a night at the Garrison hangover.

She had barely been conscious a minute before she realised her head was pounding. It was as if someone was driving a hammer into her skull over and over again.

She didn’t dare open her eyes, knowing instantly the pain was going to be too much.

“Fuck,” she whined, pushing her face into her pillow, wondering if by some miracle she could go back to sleep. Of course, it was clear that wasn’t going to happen. Not when she also currently felt like she was suffering from the worst case of sea sickness known to human kind. It made her stomach churn uneasily, and she could feel her whole body shaking.

Evie groaned, weakly turning over to try and sit up in bed. She knew for a fact that her hair was most likely a hell of mess, and the fact her breath felt like acid left her heavily confused.

She honestly had no idea what the hell had happened to her, or why the hell she felt the way she did. It was as if someone had scrubbed her mind so clean it was raw. There was a huge chunk of time missing from her mind from the night before.

What the hell happened?

With a sigh, she peeled back the covers and began to brave her way down to the kitchen below.

Tommy, needless to say, was waiting in the main room, a paper spread out in front of him and a cup of tea in hand. John was also in the kitchen, Arthur beside him as they scoffed their way through the food in front of them - courtesy of Polly.

The woman truly was an angel.

Her father glanced up as he heard Evie enter, only to start laughing at her miserable face. He was enjoying this; she could tell. If she’d had any strength she’d probably have tried to wipe that smile off his face. But she didn’t. She merely shuffled in, sat in the nearest chair and let out a small moan at the fresh smell of food in the air.

“Why do I have bulls stamping on my brain?”

“Because you thought it was a smart idea to challenge Johnny boy here, to a pissing contest,” Tommy remarked calmly, hiding his grin behind his paper. It was clear from his windswept hair and the smell of soot about him he’d been up sometime, already venturing out into the city. How he got the resilience, Evie could never explain.

“What?”

“Which I won, by the way,” John protested, looking unfairly healthy as he helped himself to his breakfast. The smell alone was enough to make Evie want to empty her stomach everywhere.

“But she gave an admirable attempt,” Arthur heckled. “Worthy of the Shelby name I’d say. Almost drank a bottle of her own before she keeled over. Not bad for a slip of a thing.”

Evie groaned, dropping her face down into her hands. “I hate you all.”

“So you don’t want some hot coffee then?” Polly chuckled, placing the cup down in front of her. “Drink that. It’ll help.”

Evie took her at her word, all but downing the steaming drink, praying it helped in some way. “Why do you all drink so much if this how you feel afterwards?”

“You learn your limits,” her father chided. “You build up an immunity too.”

“Clearly I didn’t inherit your Shelby skill.”

“No, but you have determination,” Tommy chuckled. “Clearly you’ve had good teachers.”

“Or bad influences,” Polly countered, turning to glare at her nephews.

“One day, she’ll look back on this and laugh.”

“Not anytime soon, by the looks of her.”

Evie groaned all over again. “I’m right here. You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not - actually, better yet, why doesn’t everyone whisper?”

“PARDON?”

Evie was half way out of her seat and ready to murder Arthur in a heartbeat. It was only Polly’s warning glare that stopped her. That, and the sudden nausea caused by moving so fast.

“Sit down,” her aunt scoffed, placing a plain piece of buttered toast in front of her. “Eat that and then go back to bed. You’ll feel better. I promise. This lot will be gone soon.”

“Sooner the better,” Evie grumbled half heartedly, even though she didn’t mean it. Still, John clearly got the hint and took that as his cue to excuse himself from the meal.

“Right,” John grinned, donning his cap. “I’m off to the garage. Be back in a bit, yeah? Meeting Lizzie so she can cook.” The others nodded, murmuring various acknowledgements as he slipped out into the street.

“I have business too,” Arthur grinned, rising from his seat and patting Evie’s shoulder as he did so. “Just sleep it off, ey? And don’t drink anything Polly gives you. You’d rather die on your own terms than have one of her miracle cures.”

“Oi!”

Arthur sniggered, leaping out of the doorway as Polly rose to slap the smile off of his face. Still, Evie took his word for it. She loved her aunt but she had a suspicion Arthur knew what he was on about. Especially judging by the slightly queazy look on her father’s face.

“The bloody cheek.”

“Leave him, Pol,” Tommy soothed. “He isn’t worth it."

“I wish I’d let Evie rip his throat out now.”

“Oh, there’s still time. Maybe later.”

Evie chuckled under breath. She’d hold him to that. For now, though, she was content to simply make her way through the plate of buttered toast and endless mugs of coffee Polly put before her. “Thank you,” she beamed, watching as Polly kissed her head before helping herself to her own breakfast.

That was how they stayed for the next half hour or so. Once they’d finished, Evie took the plates and went to wash up as a gesture of her gratitude. It also left her father and Polly alone, both of whom had been shooting odd looks at one another to the point where Evie almost wanted to call them out on it.

If they had something to say, they should just say it… unless they didn’t want her to hear?

So, she gave them space, washing dishes and listening to their soft voices echoing through the open doorway.

Evie didn’t need to hear more than the words ‘talk’ and ‘Lizzie’ to know what this was about. It had only been days since John had told her he was thinking of asking Lizzie to marry him. Evie still didn’t know how she felt about it, even though she wanted John happy and she liked Lizzie well enough. However, by the sounds of it, she didn’t have to worry about it any longer.

“Fuck,” Pol muttered. “You gonna tell him? Or am I?”

“I will.”

“Tell him what?” Evie asked slowly.

She couldn’t help it any longer. Her curiosity was greater than her fear of being scolded for eavesdropping. Besides, it was hardly like this conversation was that private. Else, they’d have taken it to the offices on the other side of the shop floor if they hadn’t want to be overheard.

She simply stepped into the doorway and waited for an answer.

Tommy sighed. He blew out a thin stream of smoke and looked at Pol. The look between them was enough for them to understand one another.

Polly blinked. “That leopards never change their spots.”

Just like that, Evie felt even sicker - something she hadn’t thought possible. It didn’t take a genius to work out what Polly was referring to. Part of her hoped she was wrong though, that her father and aunt hadn’t conspired to break John’s heart.

She watched her father go and turned back towards the stairs. All she wanted now was to crawl into bed and sleep the remainder of the headache away. “Fuck.”

It appeared she wasn’t the only one who would be suffering that day.

--------

Thankfully, after a hot bath, plenty of coffee and a long sleep, Evie felt almost as good as new. She didn’t even mind the fact her father decided to wake her the following morning, ripping open the curtains and letting the morning sunshine burst into the room.

“Rise and shine, Evelyn.”

Evie groaned, pulling the pillow over her head in a vain attempt to block his voice out. “What’s the smile for?”

“Get dressed and you’ll find out.”

As if the shock of seeing her father in her room wasn’t enough to peak her interest, his proposition definitely did the trick. Evie was alert instantly. She couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d woken her up, let alone in such an odd mood.

She tried not to laugh as he tugged the covers off of her, doing his best as she clung on for dear life. Playful Tommy was rare. She half expected a cold bucket of water over the head or for him to be banging pans together instead.

“Dad,” Evie whined, surrendering and sitting upright. “What the hell is going on?”

“As I say, get dressed and come downstairs. We’ve got somewhere to be,” her father explained, gesturing to the dresser in the corner of the room.

To her utter surprise, a dress was already laid out and waiting for her - a beautiful sky blue dress, but one she’d never seen before.

Had he bought it for her?

“Polly picked it our for you so don’t keep her waiting,” he continued, as if sensing her questions. However, he gave her no more opportunities to ask them as he turned and left her to get ready for the absurd day ahead of them.

Evie couldn’t even begin to process it all. What had just happened? Was she still dreaming?

She managed to pry herself from her bed and wander over towards the dress. A single touch of the silky fabric was enough to prove this wasn’t a dream. This was very very real… and very expensive.

“Damn it, Pol,” she sniggered, reminding herself to talk to her aunt about wasting money on her like this. Whilst she absolutely adored the garment in front of her, she also knew they couldn’t really afford it.

Nevertheless, she’d learned a long time ago when to pick a battle with the Shelby family and when to simply go along with their wishes. This was definitely one of those times to go with the latter option. So, she stripped herself of her nightclothes and began to get ready for the day, washing away the sleep from her eyes in the washbasin and tidying her hair as best she could.

A few minutes more and she was ready. One final look in the mirror confirmed as much.

She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her coat, hurrying downstairs as fast as she was able. If her father was as excited as he’d seemed about today then she knew better than to keep him waiting. Even if she was nervous about what lay ahead, Evie couldn’t help but be a little excited too. However, as she hurried into the parlour, she was surprised to see it empty.

Her father was no where to be seen.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

That was when the door opened. That was when the last two people she’d expected to come strolling through together, did just that, grinning ear to ear.

“Polly what on earth is going o-” Evie began. She stopped, however, the moment she laid eyes on the woman next to her. “Ada?”

Like that, she was upon her, hurling herself at her aunt in disbelief. The heavily pregnant woman didn’t mind though, laughing as she cradled her back, peppering kisses to her cheeks.

“Oh my god. I’m glad to see you.”

“I missed you too,” Ada whispered. “It’s been too long.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Tommy invited her,” Polly smirked, visibly touched by the scene. “Family should be together on days like this one. We have a one day truce, thank god. I love a good wedding.”

“A wedding?”

She wasn’t the only one confused. Ada looked as bewildered as she felt. However, Evie finally took a moment to properly examine the moment. It was then she realised they were all dressed impeccably, with fine dresses and coats. Polly even had a hat on, something she saved for church or special occasions. How Evie had missed it was beyond her. Clearly, she was getting rusty.

“Apparently.”

“Whose?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Polly chuckled. “So, shall we go? Otherwise we’ll miss the bloody thing… I never thought I’d see the day John Shelby re-married. To a Lee of all things.”

Wait.

John.

This was John’s wedding?

To a Lee girl?

Not Lizzie?

Evie blinked. She froze and stared at the woman in disbelief. “You’re fucking joking? Right?”

Both Ada and Polly shook their heads. “It was your father’s idea,” Polly explained, adjusting her hat in the mirror before opening the door and ushering them towards the car. “It was a deal proposed by the Lees. Tommy agreed on John’s behalf. Kill two birds with one stone.”

Evie had a suspicion someone would be killed if that really was the case. “Does John know?”

“They’ll have told him by now.”

“Fuck. Now I see why they all left together.”

It took an army to make a Shelby do something they didn’t want to do. John especially. Evie felt bad at the thought. What if he didn’t want this? Why was her family forcing him into this? Was it too late to stop it?

Then again, her father loved his family more than life itself. He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t have John’s approval or hadn’t meticulously thought this whole thing out. Had he even met the bride to be?

Evie sighed. Why were Shelby weddings always so complicated? At least this one wasn’t in secret, a fact she was grateful for as she turned to her aunt and took her hand. The fact she was here beside her already made her feel ten times better.

“Freddie not with you?”

Ada shook her head. “No, but it’s alright. I’m… I’m glad to see everyone.”

“We’re glad to see you too,” Polly hummed, kissing both Ada and Evie’s cheeks. “Now. Stop nattering and get in. We have a wedding to get to and I don’t want to miss this for the world.”

The girls didn’t need to be told twice. They knew an order when they heard it. They had a wedding to get to after all. John’s wedding… God help them all.

---------

The ceremony was brief but pleasant. Even her father and Ada seemed to be getting on, grinning and teasing one another as Jonny completed the ritual, standing in front of the crowd gathered in the shipping yard the Lees currently called home.

Evie had never been to a gypsy wedding before. Not one like this, with so much colour and excitement for what was usually quite a somber ceremony according to the church she was used to. Yes, Esme - her newest relative - was wearing white as she made her way down the aisle, but that was pretty much where the resemblance ended. After all, when had church ever involved the use of a knife before? … or real blood?

Evie had clearly been going to the wrong services.

“That’s the mingling of the two bloods. Where two families become one family,” Jonny explained, grinning ear to ear as Esme and John clasped hands together. The look on their faces said it all. “I now pronounce you, man and wife! Go on John, kiss the bride, will you?”

The cheer was instantaneous, as were the celebrations that followed.

Evie was quick to hug and congratulate John and his new bride. To her relief, he seemed happy - excited even, and who could blame him? Esme was gorgeous. After a few moments of talking, Evie had also deduced that she was wild and almost as much of a true gypsy as Polly. She was also kind, witty and clever - she had to be if Tommy had accepted her to join their family, their side of this now resolved conflict. He wouldn’t have accepted just anyone and yet again, they were all forced to have faith he knew what he was doing.

That didn’t mean Evie had to hold it against Esme. No matter how she’d joined the Shelby clan, she was a Shelby nonetheless and Evie knew better than most how daunting it was to join such a clan as this.

“Congratulations,” she smiled once more, kissing John’s cheek and nodding at his bride. “Be good to one another.”

“We will be.”

“And welcome to the family, Esme.”

“Thank you,” she nodded, grinning as John slid his arm about her waist and held her close.

Evie took that as her cue to leave the newly weds to it. As it was, one of the younger Lee boys had decided to take advantage of the fact she was currently by herself, lingering by the now raging dance floor.  

He was quick to stand beside her, taking her hand and shoot her a teasing grin. “Fancy a dance?”

Evie automatically went to decline, but changed her mind. He was handsome and the night was young. “Why not?” she shrugged. It was a night of peace and celebration after all. “Just don’t blame me if I stand on your toes.”

With that, she let him grab her other hand and spin her into the crowd. She didn’t know the steps, if there even were any, nor did she know the song the band were singing. All she knew, was that she felt weightless, skipping about with her partner.

“I’m Antony,” he grinned, bellowing to be heard over the violin and drumbeats.

“Evelyn!”

“Pleasure to meet you, Evelyn Shelby!”

Give it five more minutes, and several broken toes, and she’d see if he still felt that way after all.

------

Just because the light soon disappeared, didn’t mean the celebrations did. In fact, as candles and lanterns were lit, so too were everyones spirits; There were drinks being poured, games of cards being won, and at one point - gunshots and fireworks.

It was official, Evie loved weddings. Particularly, Shelby weddings.

She also liked dancing and was not looking to stop anytime soon. She’d danced with multiple partners, making her way around the floor before finally ending up beside her aunt. For a pregnant woman, Ada was doing rather well at keeping up.

To be honest, if Evie was having fun, then Ada was on a whole other level. It was almost hysterical watching as her aunt spun and cheered and staggered about the place. After weeks, months even, without her, she was glad to have her back and making mischief with her.

“Fuck. I missed dancing!”

“That’s not dancing!”

“It is!” she protested, snagging Evie’s arm and spinning her around and around. “I should know. I taught you, didn’t I?”

Evie erupted into laughter at the memory. “I think we broke Polly’s vase when you tried to dip me!”

“And her clock with that lift!”

Both girls erupted into further laughter, tears trickling down their cheeks. All Evie could see was the memory of her aunt Polly’s face as she’d come into the kitchen to find Ada lifting Evie over her head, surrounded by broken china and glass.

“God! I’ve missed you,” Evie whined, hugging Ada close as her emotions over took her for a second. Her aunt didn’t seem to mind though as she hugged her back tightly.

“I’ve missed you too. We should never go this long without speaking ever again.”

“Fine by me. After the baby’s born, we should go dancing together.”

“Fuck yes!”

As if proving her enthusiasm for the idea, Ada began to twirl all over again, faster and more manically than before. Apparently it was enough to worry her family. Arthur was by their side in an instant.

“Come on, Ada. Enough now. Enough,” he tried, to no avail. He went to reach for her, only for her to spin away faster. “Ada.”

Even Tommy was coming over from his seat, sighing as he approached. That was enough to knock the smile from Evie’s face, especially as she noticed Polly’s concerned expression. What did they expect? Ada had always enjoyed living vicariously and she’d been locked away for weeks.

“Ada,” her father coaxed, addressing her like some spooked animal. “Come on, have a rest. Sit down now.”

“Come and look, Esme! Look at the family you’ve joined!” Ada bellowed in reply. “Come look at the man who runs it, who picks his brother’s wives for them!”

Evie turned, an apology already on her lips as John and Esme were startled from their own celebrations. She could see John was about to say something less than nice to his drunk, pregnant sister.  

“He hunts his own sister down like a rat, and tried to kill his own brother-in-law!”

“Ada, that’s enough!” Arthur urged, as both Polly and Tommy closed in.

“Now, he won’t even let me have a fucking dance!-”

“Ada!”

“-Not even at a fucking wedding,” she seethed, glaring at Tommy whilst Polly tried to wrap her arms around her niece and guide her to a chair.

“Sit her down,” John pleaded.

Jesus. Every Shelby was involved now. Only Finn appeared to be missing and he was too busy playing with the Lee children to care. Else, he’d have found it hilarious.

“Calm down, Ada. Calm down.”

However, Ada’s face was anything but calm. In fact, it looked horrified. Polly only had to glance down to know why.

“Holy shit.” She sighed. “Water. Right.”

“Bloody hell Ada,” Arthur groaned. “You do pick your times.”

“Her water’s broke!”

“I didn’t plan this!”

“Right we need to move.”

“Get off me, Tom.”

Everyone erupted into chaos. Evie lost track of who was talking or even in charge of the scene. She simply followed, excitement and panic coursing through her as she took Ada’s hand and squeezed.

“Evie?”

“I’m right here,” she promised, helping towards the waiting car. “I swore it at the beginning and I meant it. You’ll always have me. I’m not going anywhere. Not until we have a screaming baby in your arms.”

-----------

Screaming.

So much screaming.

It was official - Evie was never having a baby.

“It hurts!”

“I know,” Polly cooed, manoeuvring the sheets about as she peered up from her position between Ada’s parted legs. “If it didn’t it wouldn’t be called labour.”

“I want Freddie!”

“Ada-”

“Please!” she sobbed, laying her sweaty head back against Evie’s chest. Despite Polly’s warning Evie had chosen to stay. She wasn’t going anywhere. Even if she knew nothing about delivering a baby, she knew all about loving and supporting her family. She and Ada had been there for each other time and time again.

Nothing had changed, just because Ada was married.

“You can do this,” Evie whispered, kissing her aunt’s damp brow. “Freddie’s on his way. You heard Polly. Dad’s given his word. Freddie can come. He’ll be here any second.”

“So will this little one,” Polly urged as Ada yelped again, a contraction cutting off the conversation.  “Keep going. That’s right. Push.”

And to her credit, she did. Ada pushed, screaming and crushing Evie’s hand in the process. Yet, Evie wouldn’t have had it any other way. Her heart was racing as within the span of mere minutes she heard the soft cries of a baby.

Ada’s baby.

“Oh my god,” she whimpered, hugging Ada tightly as she tried to catch her breath. Polly and Esme were doing their part, cleaning and tidying everything below before presenting the baby to its mother. “You did it, Ada. You did it.” “I did,” she giggled, almost deliriously. She looked like she could have slept for weeks.

“Ada. Congratulations, darling. It’s a boy.” Polly’s voice broke them from their celebration as they turned their eyes downward to the cloth wrapped bundle now being passed their way. Soft, tiny fingers poking out were all Evie could see as she gaped at her new cousin.

She wanted to cry. Damn it, Ada and Polly actually were crying, as was the baby. It was a room of crying people. All shedding happy tears though.

“A baby boy,” Ada whispered, staring at the bundle in her arms.

Then they heard it.

The door banging below.

“Ada! Come on! Open up!”

“Freddie,” Ada whimpered, exhausted eyes turning to the hall. She didn’t even have to ask. Polly was already half way down the stairs. The already perfect moment would now be complete, as would their family now that the father had arrived. Just in time too.

He would get to meet his son.

Evie couldn’t have been happier for Ada, grinning as she heard Freddie’s frantic footsteps approaching. The look on his face as he burst into the room was awestruck.

Then again, seeing his wife, beaming ear to ear, cradling their newborn in her arms tended to have that affect on a person.

“It’s a boy, Freddie,” Ada whispered.

Freddie simply blinked. His smile grew as he took the invitation, approaching slowly before perching on the stool next to them. Evie was quick to move aside, allowing him to take her place as he reached over and took the bundle for himself.

One look was all it took.

He was in love.

“It’s a beautiful baby boy,” he gaped, much to everyone’s amusement. Polly even wiped her eyes hastily, as if trying to hide her tears of joy. “There you go. Welcome to the world, son. Welcome to the world.”

His tone was of wonder and of euphoria as he stared down at the boy in his arms. Who knew what he was thinking.

Was that how her father would have looked, had he been there for her birth? Would he have stared at her like she was his entire world? Evie gulped at the thought. It was stupid to think of such things, but she couldn’t help it. A small part was jealous as she witnessed the tender tableau before her.

The truth was, her mother had probably been alone. Who had she had as a friend to hold her hand or assist with the birth? Maybe their neighbours? They were always kind to them, looking out for the small family. Still, it wouldn’t have been like this, that much Evie was sure of. Not full of love and support.

Her mother had had her reasons, Evie knew that. It just didn’t make witnessing what they could have had any less painful.

“What are you going to call him?”

“Karl,” Ada grinned, answering Esme’s question. “After Karl Marx.”

“Who?”

“Bloody hell,” Polly sniggered. “Karl’s a lovely name, Ada.”

A lovely name for a lovely boy. Evie was about to say as much when there was yet another knock at the door. Well, knock probably wasn’t the right word, not when the door rattled under the weight of their visitor’s fist.

“Police! Open up!”

Everyone froze. No one knew what to do.

The Police? The Police were here? Why? How?

“Oh god,” Evie choked, reaching instinctively for Ada and taking her hand. She also watched as Polly was quick to snatch Karl out of his father’s arms and placed him securely back with his mother.

That was all they had time for as the door burst open down below. Everything that followed for the next five minutes was pure pandemonium. Evie didn’t even know where to look. She lost track with the sudden surge of bodies in the house, all arguing and brawling, dragging Freddie outside with them.

Esme was vicious in her attempts to defend her new family. Polly too, was screaming blue murder as she tried and failed to stop them. She was also gone, storming out mere moments after the Police had left.

No one needed to ask to know where she was headed, or whom she intended to see. “I’m gonna set this right,” she’d rambled, kissing a now hysterical Ada as she left.

How? How could anyone make this right? Evie didn’t know how it could have gone wrong. No one knew Freddie was here. Her father had given his word. He wouldn’t have lied to them… not today… not even he was that callous.

Right?

Evie wished she could be sure. However, she had bigger concerns than her father’s integrity to worry about; Ada was already pushing herself up, onto her feet, and trying to reach for her forgotten coat and shoes.

“I need to go home.”

“No,” Esme pleaded, trying to force her to sit back down by the fire. “You just gave birth. You need to rest.”

“What I need is my husband,” Ada sobbed. “I need to be out of this house!”

Evie took that as her cue to intervene, before her aunt did any damage to herself or anyone else in the room. “I’ll take you home, ok?” she offered, reaching for her arm. “We’ll take the car. Save you walking.”

“But-”

Whilst well intentioned, the look Evie passed Esme told her it was hopeless. She’d soon learn Shelby women did only what they wanted, when they wanted. Everyone else could be damned. Right now, Ada cared about one thing and one thing only: keeping herself and her baby safe. That meant getting as far from Shelby territory as possible.

“Tell Polly where we’ve gone if she comes back, ok?” Evie stated, nodding at Esme.

To her credit, Esme didn’t argue. She hurried to gather Ada’s things, helping Evie to assist her aunt and new-born cousin into the back of the waiting car. She even offered to accompany them.

“I know about babies and what needs doing now,” she explained, hopping into the passenger’s seat. “I’ll be more use to you there than sitting on my ass here.”

Evie and Ada were visibly grateful for her company; They were going to need all the help they could get.

-------------

It was hours before either Evie or Esme returned. In fact, the sun was already beginning to rise as Evie rounded the corner of Watery Lane, the engine humming as it bounced across the cobbles. Whilst she much preferred riding to driving, she’d learned all the same during the war. When there hadn’t been any men to drive anywhere.

Like riding, she loved the solitude and freedom driving offered. She only wished she could turn the car around and drive away from it all… anywhere else… anywhere but here would have been good enough for her.

Her rage had been steadily building with every moment that had passed since Freddie had been taken. By now, she was shaking as she controlled the urge to march inside her house and shoot the lot of them.

Instead, she ground to a halt, slamming the car door harder than necessary and barging her way into Watery Lane.

She’d hardly made it in the door before Polly was upon her, wide eyed and panicked.

“Is she-?”

“She’s alright, Pol,” Evie soothed, glad to see the immediate relief in Polly’s eyes. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be hurrying back to Ada the moment she could, to check on her for herself. “She’s sleeping. I made sure she ate and kept an eye on her. Esme did too. She’s there to help with feeding and stuff when the baby wakes. Ada just needs sleep.”

Her aunt’s face relaxed at the news, but her skin was still too pale. “She shouldn’t be alone. Not now.”

“She didn’t have much choice,” Evie spat, her eyes following to the guilty party. The one who had made this divide. “Isn’t that right, Dad?”

She hadn’t even acknowledged the others in the room until that point, but now her stare was ice cold as she focused on them.

She snapped.

She grabbed the nearest item - a teapot of all things - and hurled it at his head. Luckily, Tommy dodged, meaning it shattered harmlessly against the wall. But the look of disbelief on his face was accurate enough.

“Oi!” he warned, hurrying to reach her before she could throw something else. Had John not wrapped his arms around her, she probably would have. There were several teacups she had always hated in particular, lying within reach in an open invitation. “Listen to me! I didn’t do this.”

“Then who did?” Evie bellowed.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t-? Bullshit.”

Evie spat at him, breaking free of John and pushing him off of her.

“Pack it in!” he begged, rolling his eyes. “Tommy wouldn’t do this.”

Whether they believed him or not didn’t matter. Evie knew in her heart they’d been betrayed. If not by her father then who was it? Who was she supposed to believe had this kind of information, other than family?

“First you dictated John’s life. Now theirs? Is there anyone you won’t control?”

“Evie-”

“Don’t,” she seethed, panting from the exertion. “Don’t touch me. If you had anything to do with this,” she warned, “then I’ll never speak to you again. Ever.”

“It wasn’t me!”

“Promise?”

“Promise! On your mother’s life.”

A stray tear escaped Evie’s eye as she turned and stormed back across to Polly. Such an oath had to be honoured until it was proven otherwise. But that didn’t mean Evie had to like it. So, she choose to leave her father where he stood: on shaky ground.

[sprnklersplashes]

stars around my scars

or, the tatto artist!robin au that no-one asked for but everyone gets (ao3)

Ever since he was 11, Theo has wanted a tattoo. He still remembers the day he first asked, if only because of his dad’s expression. He had hurried across the schoolyard, with a cardigan that was slightly too big for him and his backpack hanging off one shoulder, thrown himself into the car, and proudly rolled up his sleeve to show his dad the ‘tattoo’ Sabrina had given him during homeroom. It was simple really, a sword and shield adorned with his initials. His dad had chuckled at it fondly, the way any parent would chuckle at their child’s antics, and started to pull out of the parking space when Theo asked, “so when can I get a real tattoo?”.

He very nearly crashed the truck.

His answer was simply “when you’re older”, and being 11, that felt an age away to Theo, and he felt his chest sink at the idea of waiting for so long.

In the run up to his fourteenth birthday, he tried again, responding with “a tattoo” when his dad asked what he wanted. He sits cross legged on his bed and pretends he cares less than he does, all the while watching his dad out of the corner of his eye. Either he must look sadder than he thinks he does, or he should look out the window and check for flying pigs, because his dad sighs, but then his face softens and he does the impossible; he relents, just a little.

“Maybe when you’re 18,” he says.

His sophomore year of high school is when things start to get really rough. Nearly every day he comes home with bruises and cuts and his dad is less convinced by his excuses each time. He wakes up every morning and wonders what it’ll be; stuffed in a locker, shirt pulled up, pushed down the stairs. Words are used like weapons and hurt just as much, whether they’re spat in his face or written across a locker. Getting up is a constant battle and some days it just feels impossible. The school parking lot feels like No-Man’s Land at the best of times. His dad brings up the idea of transferring to him at dinner one night, but he just raised his chin and reminded him that he’s a Putnam. And Putnam’s don’t run away.

His dad had smiled at that.

There was some good mixed in with the bad though. He found answers to questions that had plagued him for years. He chose a new name, after the greatest woman he never knew, and found the courage to tell his dad who he really is. It hadn’t been easy, he hadn’t expected it to be, but when his dad drove him down to the Greendale barber that day, it had meant more to him than his dad might have understood.

His friends were amazing, which should go without saying. Of course they would be. And he feels good, in some ways he feels better than he’s ever felt about himself. Like he’s stepping into a new part of his life and while he doesn’t know what’s in front of him, he’s excited to see where it goes.

But as happy as he was, not everyone felt the same. Teachers and students alike struggled with his transition, some at least attempting to feign politeness, others not so much. The cruel words don’t stop just because he uses different pronouns now and he still comes home with the occasional bruised knuckles or bloodied nose.

Add on a few stressful long-distance calls with his mother and his high school experience thus far can only be described the same way his English essays are-“Could Be Better”.

Maybe that’s why, a week before his sixteenth birthday, his dad pops his head around his bedroom door and asks him “Do you still want that tattoo?”.

He looks up from his book, almost sure he’d imagined it. His dad may have changed his stance slightly, but if there’s one trait they share more than anything it’s that intense stubbornness. He was prepared to just ride it out and wait until he’s 18, or maybe even until he moves away to college altogether. But no, here he is, age 15, his dad looking at him expectantly.

“Really?” is all he can reply with.

“Yeah,” he says. “I mean, it’s clearly something you want a lot. And I know you’re sensible enough not to get one of those crazy ones that go all the way across your face.” He giggles at that. “And you’ve waited long enough so I figure… why not just let you?”

His mouth falls open and he blinks, waiting for the catch, only for his father to simply shrug at him, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“Well if you don’t want to-”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence, because Theo jumps and hugs him before he can.

He enlists Harvey’s help with the design. His drawing skills aren’t bad, but they’re not the best either and if this is going on his body, permanently, he needs to get it right. So he slides up to Harvey on Monday with wide eyes and a smile that’s just the right amount of cute. And if that doesn’t work, he has money in one pocket and a comic book that Harvey really wants in the other.

The other boy looks up with a raised eyebrow and Theo’s glad he brought the back-ups.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Why do you think there is something?” he asks. “Can’t I just be happy to see you? My best friend? My trusted companion I have known since-”

“Oh my God, what did you break?” Sabrina asks. She’s sitting on the desk behind them and her eyes have doubled in size. “Harvey, whatever you do, do not take the fall for him!”

“That was one time, Brina!” he replies. Sabrina bites back a giggle, a twinkle in her eye as she exchanges a look with Roz, and Theo exhales slowly. His cheeks warm, just a little, but he ignores it. Or at least he tries. Same with the nervous prickle of sweat running down his back “Harvey, what I was going to ask was… well, my dad finally said I can get a tattoo, and I was just wondering if maybe you could draw it for me?” His voice gets smaller and smaller as the sentence goes on, and the last word practically limps past his lips. He holds his breath, fingers twitching to grab his two back up plans. But as it turns out, he doesn’t need to, because Harvey bursts into a grin that warms his heart and undoes the knot in his chest.

“Of course I will,” he tells him. “That’s what you were so worried about?”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. Whatever words he had die on his tongue, and they laugh it off as Sabrina pats the space next to her. He jumps up next to her, their feet bumping against each other, and they take advantage of the few precious moments they have before class begins.

Harvey hunches over his desk, his hands moving as swiftly and carefully as only an artist’s can. It’s kind of amazing watching him, watching him lose himself in his work the same way Theo loses himself on the basketball court. No, it’s not the same and Theo knows it. He’s nevertheless fascinated by Harvey’s process and that’s why he’s hovering the way he is.

No other reason.

The nail chewing is also completely irrelevant. He does this all the time and it’s perfectly normal.

As is the pacing.

Eventually, Harvey just sights and pulls a chair up beside him and lets him sit. He only moves slightly, but Theo takes the hint and sits back, willing his heart to slow down. He does everything he can to pass time; jumps through social media apps on his phone, flips through Harvey’s stack of comics, even doodles something on a spare page. All the time waiting with baited breath and one eye on Harvey’s hand.

“Okay.” Harvey leans back in his chair, his fingers slightly greyed with lead. “I’m done.”

Theo leans forward and immediately a smile forms on his face. It’s exactly what he had in mind, the outline of a small bird sitting on a branch, poised to take flight, but Harvey’s drawing is more carefully and painstakingly structured than he could have hoped to make it. All his attempts somehow look flat, boring, but Harvey’s looks alive and it reminds him why he wants this particular picture on his body.

“Thank you.” He leans against him, cheek smushed against Harvey’s shoulder, and wraps his arms around him. He sings his words a little, bringing a smile to both their faces. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Harvey plays it down, but he hugs him back just as tightly.

Unfortunately, there are no tattoo places in Greenedale. Theo wonders how, in all his fifteen going on sixteen years of living in this town, he never once picked up on this. Especially since he spent most of that time wanting a tattoo. But no, here he is, the White Pages open on his lap and him staring intensely at the page as if the words tattoo parlour are going to magically appear on the page.

He sighs deeply and scratches his cat behind the ears.

“Well, Lila,” he tells her. “Time to go look beyond Greenedale.” Lila lets out a groan, her little ears flopping down as she rests her head against him, and he takes that as her saying she’s with him. He kisses her head, her fur tickling his nose. “Love you too, baby.”

He finds one close enough, in Woodvale, the next town over. It’s pretty decent money-wise, and while it looks pretty small on the Facebook page, it’s close, and more importantly, his dad goes there for business at least twice a month. He tells him that night he has some errands to run there next week, in fact.

“You can go in, get your tattoo done, then maybe we can go for lunch after,” he says. He shrugs awkwardly, wiping his hand on a tea towel. “You know, if you want. Unless you have plans or something.”

“I don’t have any plans, Dad,” he tells him. “I’d love that.”

He doesn’t miss his dad’s bright smile at his answer.

That night, Lila is sitting around his shoulders as he copies the phone number off the Facebook page. Her tail flicks him in the face and he sighs and adjusts her on his shoulders so she’s more comfortable. His dad sometimes calls her The Queen, and for good reason. That damn cat is more pampered than anything he’s ever known. Even if he does love her and thinks she deserves it.

“Don’t suppose you want to take this phone call for me, do you?” he asks her. She meows back at him, which he takes to mean no you weirdo, make your own appointments, you’re an adult now. She’s right, he doesn’t like it, but she’s right, so he kisses her nose and hits the call button.

“Um, hi, Midsummer Night’s, how can I help?”

Theo clears his throat, glad he had the foresight to chug water right before making the call. Social skills aren’t his best in general and they somehow get worse on the phone. Especially with this kind of appointment-booking stuff. He’s made progress, at least. By that he means he doesn’t feel the need to ask his dad any more. Baby steps.

“Hi,” he replies. “I’d like to book a tattoo. For next Saturday?”

“Next Saturday…” Their voice trails off, the sound of stuff being shoved and moved around filling the silence instead. “Sorry, just bear with me for one second.”

“It’s fine.” He turns on his heel and walks the length of his room again, Lila flicking her tail. It takes him a while to recognise the song playing in the background; Kansas. Carry On My Wayward Son. He’s a little embarrassed; he didn’t spend all that time watching Supernatural to not recognise this song instantly.

He catches himself humming just as the second verse hits.

“Okay, here we go,” the other voice says. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” he replies, as though a pink blush isn't colouring his cheeks.

“So that’s next Saturday… what time were you thinking?”

“Is around ten am okay?” he asks. “Sorry, I know it’s like right when you open, but my dad has some business around town that he can’t move and-”

“No, ten’s fine,” they tell him. “And what’s the name?”

“Putnam,” he says, perhaps a little too quickly. “Theo Putnam.”

“Okay, Putnam, Theo Putnam.” It’s a terrible joke, a dad-level terrible joke, but he laughs all the same. “That’s you booked in. I’ll see you Saturday.”

“See you on Saturday,” he replies, and the flutter of excitement in his chest leaves him breathless.

*****

Midsummer Nights' turns out to be a relatively small shop nestled on a street corner, looking only slightly out of place with its dark blue paint job, contrasting with the more pastel colour palette for the rest of the street, and indeed, the rest of the town. He likes it, and he especially likes the shooting stars painted around the door and windows. Twinkling in the mid-morning sun and outlined in thin black lines, trails of gold and silver shooting out from behind them. They’re tiny and probably there as an afterthought, a way to fill space, but Theo is far more enchanted by them than he is the larger pictures of fairies and mermaids that adorn the walls. The care taken alone leaves him breathless. The bigger pictures are impressive, sure, but the care with which the stars have been painted almost takes his breath away. Whoever did them must have the patience of a saint. He’s never really been one for patience, nor for taking his time, instead always running from one thing to the next. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from this person, whoever they are.

“Woah, calm down there,” he tells himself as he turns the handle. “It’s a painting, not a therapy session.”

Inside isn’t entirely what he expected. Well, he’s not completely sure what he expected. Maybe a bunch of hairy biker types, the faint stench of alcohol in the air and a deer head mounted in the wall for good measure. But no, instead he finds white walls decorated with painted trees and vines and as he looks closer, tiny fairies and gnomes poking their heads around them. A smile tugs on his lips as he looks at it. It’s almost magical; a new creature appearing before his eyes the longer he looks. The space is bright, mostly thanks to the large windows, and someone plays folk music softly in the background.

He approaches the front desk, which in actuality looks more like a glorified coffee table and is manned by a girl with blue strands of her hair. She looks up from her book as he approaches and slips a bookmark in without looking. He takes an instant liking to her, or rather she seems like the kind of person he could like.

“Hey,” she greets nonchalantly. “You have an appointment or are you a walk-in?”

“Uh, an appointment,” he replies, scratching behind his ear. “It’s uh-Theo Putnam.”

“Okay, one second.” She flips open a spiral notebook, twiddling a pen between her fingers. Theo takes the opportunity to have another look around, his eyes once again drawn to the walls. He looks up at them, more than happy to wait. There’s something almost tangible yet so surreal about it; like he believes he could find himself here, just not in this reality. And as he cranes his neck, he spies right where the wall meets the ceiling; the stars from the outside.

“Sorry about that,” the girl says, snapping him back to reality. “So yeah, you’re all booked in, if you just want to go down to the back, Robin will take care of you.” Theo nods, a ‘thank you’ on his lips, but before he can say it, the girl turns her head and screams “ROBIN YOUR PERSON’S HERE!”. Theo stumbles backwards, blown away by and also amazed that all the windows are still intact. She simply turns back, her smile sweet, and opens her book again. “He’ll be down in just a second.”

He can’t decide if he likes her more or less after that.

“Jesus Christ Moth, I’m coming,” someone, he presumes Robin, calls from above them, the voice faint. Theo grins as he realises that he probably wasn’t meant to hear that. He wanders past the front desk, but not before catching the small shit-eating grin on Moth’s face.

He likes her.

Robin (he assumes it’s him anyway) emerges on the bottom step, shooting an annoyed look at Moth that disappears immediately once he sees Theo, instead morphing into an apologetic half-smile.

“I’m sorry about her,” he says. “She’s under the impression that she’s cute. And she’s also a middle child.”

“Ah that explains a lot,” Theo chuckles. “Well, it’s fine. I mean, it seemed to be effective anyway.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. Theo’s breath catches in his throat and he can’t work out why. Robin is pretty, but he’s never been the type to lose his words over pretty boys. He’s tall, way taller than Theo, and his short-sleeved black shirt doesn’t leave much to the imagination. His dark hair is streaked with green and falls forwards into dark eyes, causing him to toss his head to push it back. Normally he’d find that kind of look douchey, but it’s not, not on him, it’s actually kind of cute in a punk-rock slash edgy poet kind of way and suddenly he’s aware how neither one of them have said anything yet.

“I’m Theo. We uh, we spoke on the phone.” It comes out as more of a question than a statement, at least in his mind.

“Yeah, I remember,” he says. “Putnam, Theo Putnam.”

“Yep, that’s me,” he replies, caught between laughing and cringing at himself. If he had known it was going to be like this, he’d have tried to make that phone call way less awkward. Robin doesn’t seem to mind though, instead tapping his arm lightly and gesturing with his head.

“Why don’t you come through with me and we can get started?”

“That’s definitely what I came here to do,” he says, and when Robin smiles, his heart melts and he curses silently.

Dimples. Of course he has dimples. The asshole.

He sits up on a leather chair, his backpack and jacket discarded on the floor and his sleeve rolled up. His feet dangle just above the floor and he’s deliberately not looking at the very pointy needles. It’s not like he’s got a phobia or anything, and he definitely knew this would be part of the process. It’s just a little unnerving.

“You got a design?” Robin asks.

“Uh, yeah here.” He holds the paper out to him. “My friend Harvey drew it. He’s really great at the art stuff. But-but the idea was mine and I… dictated it to him.”

“Cool,” he replies. “And where do you want it?” Theo pulls his sleeve up, his fingers gesturing to just below his shoulder. Robin nods, and his eyes darken slightly, as if his focus is shifting entirely to the tattoo and nothing else. He positions himself as close to him as possible, and they sit in silence as he carefully transfers the design onto tattoo paper.

Then Robin’s hand is against his skin, and the needle is barely an inch from it, and goosebumps prickle along there.

He must look as nervous as he feels, because Robin’s grip on his shoulder softens slightly, as does his face, and his voice comes in a careful whisper.

“Hey,” he tells him. “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt that much. And I promise I’m careful.” Theo nods, even if his nails are digging into the leather beneath him. “Besides, it’s only the first one that really hurts. After that everything’s fine.”

“That’s what she said.” His voice is far weaker than he’d like it, the joke even more so, but Robin busts out laughing and so does he, and he barely realises that he started.

He was right though; while the pain doesn’t necessarily lessen, he gets used to it. If one could ever get used to the feeling of a needle jabbing one’s skin over and over. It kind of helps that he’s got plenty to distract him with the art on the walls and even if he didn’t; Robin is surprisingly easy to talk to.

“So you’re not from around here, are you?” he asks casually. “Sorry, it’s just… here you get to know people pretty quickly. And I’ve never seen you around here.”

“It’s fine,” he replies. He relates of course; small towns are small towns. “I’m from Greenedale. Ever been there?” Robin frowns slightly, his mouth falling half-open as he thinks.

“I think I drove through it once or twice,” he says. “Isn’t that the place that’s obsessed with witches and stuff?”

“That’s the one,” he says. “They’ve got all the spooky sights but unfortunately no tattoo parlours.” He goes to shrug but then remembers one arm is currently being used. “So I had to take a little trip out here.”

“You know when I was driving through I distinctly remember the lack of tattoo parlours,” Robin jokes. “Still. It’s a nice place.”

“I guess,” Theo mumbles. “I was always so focussed on the leaving.” He kicks the ground.  “I’ve never looked around properly.” Greenedale hasn’t exactly been kind to him either. He may love his friends dearly, and it’s not like his memories are all bad, but there are days when the familiar streets are less comforting and more maddening, and the town line feels more like a prison wall. It’s not every day he feels like this, but enough for him to have taken notice.

Robin chuckles beside him, and it’s then he suddenly remembers where he is, and that there is in fact a person beside him. A person he barely knows. And while a blush does creep over his cheeks, he doesn’t feel nearly as embarrassed as he should.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Kind of dumping my tragic backstory on you there.”

“Trust me, you’re not the first,” Robin tells him. “Guess there’s something about a person having a needle shoved into their skin repeatedly that puts them in a sharing mood.” He flips his head, tossing his bangs out of his face. “So what’s the deal with the witch thing?”

“Basically a lot of witches came over from Europe and settled over there,” he explains. “And when it came to picking a town personality trait, it was between either witches or thinly-veiled bigotry.” He goes to shrug, but then remembers the needle against his arm. “I guess ‘we’ll put a spell on you’ is a more catchy slogan than ‘we’re all raging assholes’.”

“Well, that may be true,” Robin says. “Though I’d admire any town with the balls to admit that they’re all assholes.” Theo chuckles again, swinging his feet slightly. Robin must be right; there must be something about getting a tattoo that makes you pretty chatty. That or Robin’s just… easy to talk to. He hasn’t met someone like in a while, not since Sabrina and Roz and Harvey. Something flutters in his chest and he doesn’t quite recognise it. He likes it, though. Even if in the back of his mind he wonders if he should be scared by it.

“Yo.” Moth appears in the doorway, hanging off the wall by her fingertips. She looks over at Theo’s arm, where Robin’s needle is, and a faint smile forms on her lips. “Not bad, Robin.”

“Thanks,” he replies, his eyebrow raised, and he looks up at Theo. “For her ‘not bad’ is possibly the highest praise you can get.”

“Not true. There’s at least two more levels, you just haven’t unlocked them yet,” she adds. “Anywho, I’m going on the coffee run, what do you want?”

“You know my order,” he replies, focussing more on his work than on her.

“So that’s an iced salted caramel latte, then,” she says. Robin’s cheeks turn pink suddenly, his hand slowing but not faltering. Judging by the look on Moth’s face-which can only be described as a shit-eating grin-that was the goal. “Do you want me to ask for whipped cream like last time?”

“No, thank you, Moth,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. The gesture is equal parts exasperated and fondness, like Moth has been a pain in his ass for so long, and he likes it that way. Theo relates.

“He always pulls that ‘you know my order’ crap when a customer’s here,” she explains. “He’s embarrassed ‘cause his actual order isn’t very macho. Plus he thinks the cool and mysterious vibe impresses clients. Especially around the ones he thinks are cute. Anyway, you want anything?”

Theo freezes, his response-whatever it would be-caught in his throat. Moth seems unaffected, checking her nails like nothing is wrong. Maybe nothing is wrong, and he’s just overthinking. Or misheard her and she didn’t actually imply that Robin might find him cute. Either way, there’s probably no reason his cheeks should be as pink as they are now.

“N-no I’m okay thanks,” he says.

“You sure?” she asks. “No extra charge, just give us a good review.”

“It’s fine,” he says. He clears his throat and hopes his voice doesn’t actually sound that high. “I’m going out with my dad after this anyway.”

“Mm. Suit yourself.” She turns on her heel and flounces off, the sound of jangling keys and her boots on the floor growing fainter. Theo doesn’t dare breathe until she’s gone though-the closing door releasing the tie around his chest. When he turns to Robin, the other boy seems far calmer than he is, already back to work with a bemused grin on his face. His eyes meet Theo’s and he shakes his head lightly, his hair falling in front of his eyes.

“Don’t worry about Moth,” he tells him. “She’s taken it upon herself to try to set me up with every guy that comes in.” He shifts himself slightly. “Trust me, it was nothing.”

“Oh… okay.” The small tug of disappointment comes at a surprise to him, and he searches for a way out. “But was she right about your coffee order though?” Robin chuckles.

“Maybe.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry,” he tells him. “I personally think iced lattes are very macho. Of course we should ask ourselves ‘what is macho’ and then that takes us on a whole lovely journey that you probably don’t want to go through right now.”

“Eh, I might do,” he says. Theo turns to him, and his eyes are the exact mixture of teasing and serious, and the grin on his face widens. “But we can agree that salted caramel lattes rock, right?”

“Absolutely,” he says, and he realises in that moment he really likes this guy.

Which way he likes him though is a question he leaves unanswered.

In what feels like no time at all, Robin is slowly finishing up, an empty coffee cup at his side. At some point, Moth came in and started work on another client, casually talking to Robin above the hum of the tattoo needles. Robin doesn’t stop chatting to him though and they move through things like school (where he learns Robin’s favourite subject is English), music (where Robin actually has to stop and write down Theo’s music recommendations) and pets, where Theo goes on a ten minute rant about Lila and how she’s simultaneously the love of his life and the bane of his existence.

“Your cat sounds amazing,” he says. “Next time you’re in town you should bring her in so I can meet her.”

“You could always come over to Greendale,” he says. It’s so casual he didn’t even think about it before he said it, and he might have freaked himself out. If Robin feels the same, he doesn’t show it, only nodding and saying he might take him up on that.

They turn to talking about Midsummer Nights’ itself; how Robin started working there one summer as a teenager, how only last year he graduated from sweeping floors to taking clients, and how just a few months ago he and Moth (“mostly me,” he added, just loud enough so she could hear) redecorated the entire place, including the outside.

“I did those little stars on the wall outside,” he remarks. “Don’t know if anyone notices them, but they’re my crown jewel as far as I’m concerned.”

“I noticed,” Theo tells him. “I like them.” He doesn’t tell him how entranced he was by his work, but he does notice the softness in Robin’s smile, the pink hue in his cheeks. It makes sense, somehow, that Robin painted those stars. He barely knows him, but he feels like it makes sense.

For the last few minutes, the conversation drops away, and silence falls as all Robin’s focus shifts to his work. It’s a look he recognises from Harvey, an artist’s expression, but it feels deeper with Robin. His movements are so precise, so deliberate, that Theo feels he should hold his breath lest he break his concentration. He imagines him months ago, the same expression on his face as he paints the stars outside, and he’s almost sad he wasn’t there to see it.

Robin groans as he leans back, pushing his hair away from his face, and his eyes light up.

“We’re done,” he says. “You want to see it before we put the bandages on it?”

“Hell yeah I do.” He jumps off the seat and follows Robin, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he goes. Robin leads him to a mirror, his face shining with anxious pride, and Theo gives him a small smile before he turns and his breath is taken away.

“It’s perfect,” he breathes. Perfect as anything could be, really. Clean cut, careful, delicate. There’s so much life in it, even though it’s only ink. The little bird sits perched on its branch, determination strong on its small face. He couldn’t have asked for a better job. It’s everything he dreamed when he was younger, now a physical reality. He takes a deep breath, trying not to be the kind of person that cries after their first tattoo. “Thank you, Robin.”

“No problem,” he says softly and when Theo looks up, he finds Robin’s eyes lingering on him. “Putnam, Theo Putnam.”

                                                                        *****

He and his dad find a little cafe in the middle of town and sit outside, taking advantage of the good weather.

“So was it worth waiting for?” his dad asks. “The tattoo?”

“Yes, it was,” he replies. “Thank you, Dad.” His dad waves his hand dismissively, as though the back-and-forth between them never happened.

“No problem kid,” he says. “It was what you wanted. And the place was good?”

“Yeah.” He pops another French fry in his mouth. “It was really, really good. They were uh… good at their jobs.” His hand moves to where the bandage sits on his arm, the tattoo perfectly preserved beneath it, and yet that’s not what he’s thinking about. Instead his mind drifts back to Robin, with his hair falling into his eyes and his laugh and those damn dimples. He takes a drink just as he feels the heat rush to his cheeks, and his dad eyes him curiously. He sets the glass down, even though his mouth is still dry. “It was great.”

A knowing smile spreads across his dad’s face and he curses under his breath. This is what he gets for having a close relationship with his father. Stupid strong father-son bond.

Theo puts his hand in his pocket and his fingers close around empty fabric, rather than plastic. He hurriedly checks the other pocket, then his jeans, his panic rising each time. His dad turns when he realises Theo is no longer beside him, his feet rooted to the sidewalk instead, and his eyes widen, reflecting Theo’s own alarm back at him.

“Theo?” he asks. “What happened?”

“I-I can’t find my phone!” he sighs. He pulls items out of his pockets one by one, his wallet, his keys, loose change… no phone. He taps every pocket again to make sure, as if it was going to magically appear if he willed it hard enough. No such luck. He mumbles under his breath, a stream of ‘oh shit’ and ‘oh no’ as he tries to fight off the rising panic. He tries to retrace his steps, to remember the last place he had it out, to think of wherever the hell his phone could be in this town-

“Theo!”

Or maybe he doesn’t need to.

“Theo!”

He turns around to see Robin running down the street, skidding to a half just in front of him. His face is bright red, not from teasing his time, his chest heaves and his hair sticks to his face. They look at each other, breathless, and just as Theo opens his mouth to ask what he’s doing, he holds his hand out.

“My phone!” he squeaks.

“Yeah you… you left it in… with me,” he says between gasps. “I was really hoping I’d be able to catch you before you left.”

“Oh God I’m sorry,” he says, taking another look over Robin. The tattoo parlour is far enough from here, and the streets here twist and turn around as they please. And Robin ran through them. For him. In jeans. “Thank you so much, Robin. I-how did you know it was mine?”

“The picture on the lockscreen,” he explains, pointing vaguely. “It was you.” He pushes his hair away from his face. “And… your boyfriend?”

“My boyfriend?” he asks. For a second his mind goes blank, then he realises and it nearly knocks the wind out of him. “Oh God no, Harvey’s…. he’s just my friend. No, no I…” He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes meeting Robin’s and he can’t work out if the hopeful look on his face is real or his imagination. Either way, he ends up saying “I’m completely single.”

“Oh,” he says, about ten times higher than usual. He clears his throat, his hand sliding into his back pocket. “Uh… me too.”

“Seriously? What the whole jacked as hell, dyed hair tattoo artist thing doesn’t attract anyone?”

“Not around here it doesn’t, apparently,” he says, implying that the reason he’s single is beyond no-one wanting to date a tattoo artist. There’s a pause, a brief moment of silence, and Theo goes to say goodbye, to run before it gets awkward, but Robin holds out a small piece of paper.

“What’s this?” he asks as he takes it. Robin ducks his head, his bangs falling in front of his face.

“I hope it’s not too forward,” he begins. “But it-it’s my number.” He shrugs and pushes his hair back. "Just in case you ever want to call me sometime."

“Oh,” he replies. It’s a short, quick word. It hardly means anything. Certainly doesn’t reflect how his stomach as dropped out from under him, or how his brain is vibrating at an insane frequency, or how the unending cry of ‘HE GAVE ME HIS NUMBER’ blasts around his head like a fire alarm. And all the while he just stands there, the paper in his hand, blinking up at Robin like he hasn’t a care in the world. “Um… thanks.”

“Sorry,” he says immediately, his face scrunched up. “I-it was too forward, I didn’t mean like that.”

“No,” Theo says, just as Robin’s hand twitches. He slides the paper into his back pocket with a shaky hand and gives him a small smile. “It’s not… like that at all.” It’s really not. It’s not… He’s not sure what it is. All he knows is that Robin’s not at fault. “It’s okay, really.”

He turns slightly and sees his dad standing at the truck, pretending to be interested in a receipt he pulled out of his pocket. His dad hasn’t pressed and knowing him, he’s probably fully intending on giving the two of them as long as they need to work out… whatever it is they’re working out. Anxiety clutches his chest and he backs up suddenly, his hand still slid into his pocket. He needs time all right, but not here.

“I should go,” he says. “But I’ll...” His voice trails off, his fingers fidgeting in mid-air. The piece of paper burns like a small star in his pocket. “Thank you. For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” Robin says. He tosses his hair again and damn, he should not find that as cute as it is. “Look us up if you’re ever back in town.”

“I will.” He gives a wave to Robin, who responds with a wave, and Theo responds to that with a small finger gun and screams at himself the minute he turns around. He climbs into the truck beside his dad, who already rolled the windows down. Thank God, Theo thinks, because he feels fit to explode. He leans out as his dad pulls away from the curb, closing his eyes as the air tickles his skin.

“So you made a friend?” his dad asks. He doesn’t need to turn around to see the bemused smile on his face.

“He was the guy who did my tattoo,” is his reply. His dad nods, a soft chuckle escaping him, and goosebumps prickle on his skin.

“He gave you his number,” he points out. “Are you gonna call him?”

Theo sighs, his fingers tracing over the paper in his back pocket.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Maybe.”

He doesn’t call him. At least, not right away. Who he does call is Harvey, Roz and Sabrina, who all stand around his bed with him, the offending phone number sitting in the centre. He filled them in as best he could, although with all his energy being focussed on the decision, he’s only really been able to give them ‘I met a guy, he gave me his number’. And now they’ve been standing there, minutes passing in silence, while Theo stares at it with enough intensity to light it on fire.

“I think you should call him,” Roz says eventually.

“Why?”

“Because he gave you his number for that very purpose,” she tells him slowly. Theo pulls a face at her, but it only lasts for a second because… she’s right. She has an infuriating habit of being right. If she wasn’t so cute and supportive and lovely he’d have stopped hanging out with her long ago for that very reason.

“So why haven’t you?” Sabrina asks. “Called him. I mean his number’s right there. What’s stopping you?”

“What isn’t stopping me?” he mumbles, just loud enough for them to hear, and the three friends share an understanding nod. His experience with romance is extremely limited-his first and only “relationship” was the Valentine’s card that appeared in his backpack in third grade. He never chased them up, and that was the end of it. All other knowledge either comes from his friends or movies. At this moment, he feels like he’s on the edge of the deep end, nothing to help him, and he’s not sure he won’t drown when he jumps.

“Hey.” Sabrina appears at his side, her shoulder bumping against his. “I still think you should do it.” He raises his eyebrow at her. She simply shrugs in response, her eyes flitting over to Harvey as she speaks. “I mean… I know it’s a cliche, but you’ll never know until you try.”

“Yeah,” Harvey adds. “I mean what’s the worst that could happen?”

“So many things,” Theo sighs, raking a hand through his hair. He’s not blessed with what Harvey and Sabrina have-a sweet little romance that’s been blossoming since childhood-nor does he have his pick of suitors like Roz does. As far as he knows, this Robin’s his one chance. He shakes his head, his fingers drumming on his arm. “Maybe I just shouldn’t.”

“I disagree,” Roz pipes up. “I think very hot boys giving you their numbers doesn’t just happen every day and since the universe has presented you with this opportunity, I for one think you’d be an idiot to pass it up.” She delivers everything so quickly that it takes a few seconds for him to register it, and then she comes round to his side and slings her arm around his shoulders, all warm smiles and warm eyes, and he rests her head on her shoulder. “Besides, I know you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

She’s not wrong. Again. If there’s one idea that scares him more than it not going well, it’s never even happening at all.

“And in the event it goes horribly wrong, we’ll all buy ice cream and we can have a good cry session,” she promises, and the other two nod in agreement. Theo closes his eyes and buries his face in Roz’s shoulder so they won’t see his blush.

God damn it, he loves his friends.

It takes a week for him to call him, even with those assurances. One day he feels braver than usual; he chalks it up to a good day at school and an even better one at practice, and so he sits on his bed and punches Robin’s number into his phone, the note sitting on his pillow. Because yes, he kept the note instead of writing it down. Nothing wrong with that.

“Hello?” Robin picks up too suddenly, and Theo bites back a squeak. He jumps off the bed and pulls on his shirt for some reason.

One chance he reminds himself. One chance.

“Hi, Robin?” he asks. “It’s uh, it’s Theo. Theo from Greenedale? You did my tattoo last week.”

“Oh, Theo, hey,” he replies. “Um, hi. H-how’s it turned out? The tattoo I mean?”

“Perfect,” he confesses. “It’s a hit with the guys on my basketball team. You should be expecting an influx of jocks coming round soon.”

“I’ll let Moth know, we’ll stock up on Gatorade.” Theo chuckles and sits on the edge of his bed, the beating of his heart slowing slightly. Maybe this could work. Maybe, if the stars are right, this won’t fall apart.

“Robin,” he begins quietly. “The reason I called was… em… I wanted to ask you-” The words stick in his throat like grains of sand against rocks. So many questions overlap in his head, each drowning the other out and turning into static. He closes his eyes, takes deep breath in, and back out. No need to overthink it, he tells himself. Just jump.

“Do you have plans on Saturday?” he asks.

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” he replies. “Why do you ask?”

Theo throws himself on the bed, his legs in the air, and is amazed at just how easy this actually is.

                                                                          *****

They have their first date in Greenedale, seeing a movie at the Paramount, followed by a personalised tour. Robin gives Theo his jacket at some point, the sleeves falling past his hands, and Theo’s heart flutters.

They have their first kiss by the Welcome To Greenedale sign, Robin’s hand caressing his arm, right above where his tattoo is.

A year later, he’s laying in Robin’s bed, his boyfriend’s fingers gently caressing his newest tattoo-free of charge this time around. Theo kisses his bare shoulder before Robin goes to sit up, reminding him that he has to be at work in half an hour. Theo just pouts, grabs his arm, and tries to see if he can get five more minutes out of him.

Yeah, life is good.

[symphonyofthewrite]

What a King Considers Beautiful 

Art by niuan_ on instagram!! I'll include a link to that in a reblog!

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix) | Castlevania Symphony of the Night

Summary: Of vain queens and fire green | A fluffy little ficlet about Vlad and Lisa homeschooling Adrian.

My second fic for the prompt on tumblr “Please give us Lisa and Vlad just being loving science parents (bonus points if they’re protective).” Last time I focused more on the loving parents + protectiveness part, this time I’m focusing more on the science part!

Notes: I wrote this a while ago, for the same prompt I used for "Seven Years Bad Luck...or Maybe Just a Moment."

I've been trying to teach myself to be less perfectionistic, so I apologize if the language, or the experiment they’re doing at the end, is/are inaccurate to the time period. I decided not to scour the internet to double check XD And I don’t actually know if Cassiopeia is one of the constellations on their ceiling.

Also, yes, I am aware there’s more to the Cassiopeia myth than I said. I might be able to get to that later…

I got an angsty idea for an extra scene, but a) at the time I promised myself to write something truly fluffy with this, and b) it wasn’t ready by the time the rest of the fic was, so i didnt include it. I might add it to this later, or add it as a second chapter, or another fic in this series, but I made sure to keep this one truly fluffy because that’s what we all needed during this time (and after S3…).

At this point I’ve had this fic up for a while, and I seriously do love that idea... so maybe I’ll add it as a reblog or something? What do you guys think? Do you want to read my angsty last scene?

I hope you enjoy! Please don’t hesitate to leave a comment and/or reblog to let me know!! They really do cheer me up a lot!!

*

“What about that one?” Adrian points to a collection of stars.

“That’s Cassiopeia.” Lisa answers.

The two of them are laying, not, in fact, on a moonlit patch of grass, but on the floor of the boy’s room, looking up at the ceiling. Unlike most ceilings, which are plain and boring, this one is littered with stars. They’re no glow-in-the-dark stick-ons either. Vlad and Lisa once painted these stars, and they were meticulous; making as sure each constellation was in its proper place.

“It was said she was a vain queen, who once boasted her daughter was more beautiful than all the nymphs. To punish her Poseidon tied to a chair in the sky, making her hang upside down for half the year.”

Adrian makes a face. “That sounds …ridiculous.”

“Which part?”

Adrian thinks for a moment. “All of it. Why would she boast like that? Didn’t people in Ancient Greece know how jealous the gods could get?”

“Maybe not. Or maybe she knew, and boasted anyway. Maybe she was trying to spite him.”

“Probably not the best idea.”

“No, I wouldn’t say so either.”

“And why would Poseidon punish her so harshly, just for saying that? Didn’t he know she was just being vain, and the nymphs really were more beautiful? Couldn’t he have let her off with a warning?”

“Who knows, maybe they weren’t as beautiful as everyone thought, and she touched a nerve. Or maybe he was just insecure. And, well, the gods aren’t known for their merciful punishments.”

“But they’re the gods. Isn’t it their job to be infallible?”

“As you so expertly pointed out, the Greek gods weren’t infallible at all, in fact they were jealous, petty, and vain themselves… amongst other things. In other words, they were very human.”

Adrian ponders it.

“And, I don’t know,” Lisa considers, “I can kinda see where Cassiopeia was coming from.”

“What do you mean?”

She turns over to look at her son more closely, brushing a strand of gold behind his ear.

“It wouldn’t take much for me to say my son is more beautiful than all the nymphs.”

“Ugh, mother, stop!” he turns away, and she laughs.

“I can understand both sides, myself.” Vlad’s footsteps sound around them.

They sit up, startled.

Vlad continues as he walks into the room, (avoiding the patches of waning sunlight on the floor). “On one hand, your mother has a point. On the other, one ought not disrespect that which a king considers beautiful. She was asking for trouble at that point.” He steps over to the desk in the corner, picking up the papers on it and thumbing through them, continuing, “When you have all that power, it’s easy to forget that your punishments are cruel.”

“So,” he changes the subject abruptly, “You hypothesize that the copper sulfate is going to burn the same as the salt?”

Adrian nods excitedly. Pyrotechnics are a favorite past-time of nine-year-old boys (well, in this case, not actually nine. But it’s a past-time of boys, and sometimes girls, of any age, nonetheless.)

Vlad raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Let’s go and see, shall we?”

Adrian looks at his mother, who smiles and nods. Vlad hands him his notes, and the boy takes them, bustling down the staircases—his parents following more slowly, chuckling to themselves at their son’s eagerness. They soon reach the large room downstairs where they do most of their experiments; shimmering with golden light, full of bubbling beakers and bottled lightning.

Lisa hands him gloves, warning him to stay safe—which he can’t get on fast enough. Vlad gives his son each of the supplies as he needs them. Adrian consults his notes, setting up the experiment; rolling the salt on the end of one skewer, the copper sulfate on the other (more carefully).

“Shall we go outside and test these?” Vlad puts his hand on his shoulder.

They make their way through the hall, Adrian scampering out the door; the sun went down while they set up.

Vlad sets down the bucket of water he brought, and asked if Adrian was ready. When he nods, Dracula holds up his hand, a small flame appearing in the air by his fingers.

Adrian holds up the two skewers. His father steps forward and lights the salted ends of each, (reminding him not to breathe in the fumes from the copper sulfate).

They light, a little orange flame sitting at the top of each. Adrian examines the flames, then holds them each up to the one Vlad is still holding to get a closer look.

“I was right!”

Dracula holds up a finger on the other hand to call for patience.

Adrian watches as the orange on the copper sulfate flame becomes dotted with...green? Was he mistaken? It becomes clear he isn’t, as the green streaks multiply, as if rushing by, until the entire flame has turned a light green color. He smiles in awe. Then holds it back up to the other flame, making sure of what he’s seeing.

He holds onto the them as long as he can, but when the flames reach the actual skewer Adrian reluctantly drops them in the bucket of water, where they sizzle and die (and Vlad drops his arm, extinguishing the magic flame too).

“That was magnificent!” Adrian grins.

“Now don’t forget to write the results down in your journal.”

“Ugh, alright…” he mutters as he picks up the bucket to take the supplies back inside the castle. Clearly he’d rather continue to play with fire with his parents, than finish his homework for his teacher.

Vlad puts his arm around his wife, and they watch him go. Lisa rests her head on his chest.

“He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Lisa murmurs softly.

“Careful, or you might to bring the gods’ wrath upon us.”

She pushes him playfully.

“He’s growing up too fast.” She continues as she intertwines her arm back around his. “I just want to smush him in a bottle and keep him young forever.”

“Well, some famous humans would say that’s what makes things like him so beautiful; they don’t last forever. A flower that blooms eternally would lose its luster.”

“I think I’d always see him as beautiful, no matter how much time I watched him.”

Vlad chuckles, brushing his hand through her hair. “No, I don’t think I would ever stop either.”

They pause for a moment, and Vlad holds her tighter.

“But,” he adds, “I still want to see what an amazing person he’ll grow up to be.”

[star-spangledstud]

SAVE THE DAY

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary:  Peter wants to quit being Spider-Man, but the reader needs saving.

Word Count: 3600-ish.

Warnings: mentions of violence/alcoholism and abuse/hostage situation. Angst with fluffy ending.

A/N: Let’s just pretend Peter didn’t turn into dust during IW. Also, this has a dark theme? I wrote this a while ago and figured I’d post it. It’s pretty bad, sorry. 

Peter Parker is sick and tired of being Spider-Man. 

Between hardly getting any sleep and his grades faltering miserably because of his nightly escapades, the fact that half of his friends died just three weeks ago doesn’t exactly help his case. He’s tired of putting on the suit, tired of scouring the streets in the dark of night, tired of waiting for crimes to happen when he really should be studying. 

Peter lost some of the people he looked up to the most, and ever since he returned home, he hasn’t been able to stop feeling horrendously guilty over the fact that he wasn’t able to save them. He misses his friends, but mostly, he misses his coworkers, half of whom had disappeared into dust. What’s the point of being Spider-Man when you can’t even save the ones you hold dear to your heart?

Peter is seated behind his desk, black ink pen tightly gripped between his clammy fingers. His left palm is stuck under his chin, and his eyes, droopy and fluttery, shift between the clock hanging above the door towards the back of the classroom. His hazel orbs scan everything from the green linoleum floors to the yellow-stained ceiling with its flickering lights. Empty seats line the back walls, desks and chairs stacked on top of each other in a sick manner.

Desks that were once filled with students now sat empty to collect dust and termites. Most of the kids that vanished didn’t even know who Thanos was or what his intentions were. It isn’t fair, Peter thinks as he grips his pen and clenches his jaw. They didn’t deserve to die. 

Several of Peter’s classes have been postponed until further notice due to the sudden lack of staff and student body. Of course, Mr. Brown hadn’t vanished, and so, Peter is sitting in his Tuesday morning math class with barely over a dozen other kids. Each one of them looks just as sad, confused and most of all defeated as Peter does, because most of them have lost multiple family members and friends in the blink of an eye without any hope of bringing them back. 

James from physics has lost both his parents. Samantha from biology lost only one, but her grandparents as well. Francis from literature didn’t have parents even before the Snap, but lived with her aunt and uncle who both disappeared. The gist of it is clear; grief, hurt and anger surrounds the school like a thick, impenetrable blanket of fire from which nobody can escape and for a moment, Peter doesn’t know on which side of the Snap he’d rather be. 

The seconds on the clock tick by agonizingly slowly. Mr. Brown knows nobody in his class gives a shit about potentially solving mathematical problems anymore, but life must go at the end of the day and until anyone has any better ideas, the only thing the school board knows to do is to keep teaching classes to whoever decides to show up. To be fair, even though it’s nothing like how it used to be, school remains the only constant in most of these kids’ lives. 

Doubt continues to plague Peter’s cloudy mind as the day progresses. He’s already stuffed his suit in Ned’s locker - he wouldn’t be needing the space anymore anyway. The mere thought of his best friend vanishing into thin air made his fist curl and his eyebrows twitch in anger and every waking moment of his existence he hates himself for not being able to help him make it through the Snap. Then again, maybe it was for the best. 

Being alive suddenly didn’t seem like such a great thing anymore with the world in complete shambles. 

After class is over, most of the students slowly drag their feet towards the library or the cafeteria. With so many postponed classes, study hours are given left and right until the board has time to conjure a new schedule. Peter slings his backpack over his shoulder and, while dragging his feet to the library, absentmindedly reaches his phone from his back pocket. The latest iPhone he was given by Tony now feels alien in his hand, especially since half of his contacts don’t exist anymore. The Snap chat streak he used to have with Ned died weeks ago, and the last message Peter sent him still sits in Ned’s inbox marked as ‘unread’. Peter grips the device and bites his lip. He has to stop himself from throwing it out of the window all together. Looking at it has become unbearable. 

Just as he’s about to shove it back deep inside his pocket, it vibrates. He thinks it’s just his imagination at first, but when his hand shakes for the second time, he lifts up the phone with the thumping of his heart. 

It’s you, your name displayed as the caller ID across the screen, followed by blue and red heart emojis. You picked those out yourself. 

“What’s up?” he asks after picking up, “where are you? You have no idea how boring math is without you.” 

When the line momentarily remains silent on your end, Peter shrugs. You’ve pocket-dialed him before so it doesn’t immediately strike him as odd, and when he calls your name and doesn’t receive a response, he hangs up, finally able to place the phone in his pocket where he hopes it will remain forever. 

But it doesn’t remain there forever, because less than a minute later, it rings again, once more flashing your name across the screen for his eyes to see. His groans, but picks up anyway as he stands in front of the library entrance. 

“Y/N?” He asks, holding the device tightly to his ear just in case he can hear you in the distance. 

“No,” you whisper finally, “he’s going to kill a bunch of people, P.” 

Peter’s blood runs cold when the call is ended once again. He wastes no time sprinting towards Ned’s old locker and holds his breath when he dashes through the empty hallways. Before he gets there, he calls you back. You don’t answer. 

Peter sneaks the costume into his backpack and changes into it in the empty bathroom near the physics lab. He stuffs his backpack inside the air vent and dials your number again. With his phone stuck tightly against his ear, he jumps out of the window.

You are one of the only people Peter still has left and vice versa. The two of you have been friends for ages, sharing nearly every class and you, him and Ned always sit together for lunch. The three of you would hang out together after school as well; you saw movies together and played video games on the weekends. You texted each other constantly. 

The Snap wiped out nearly your entire family. Your mother, little brother and both of your grandparents and your aunt and uncle on both sides. You were left with nobody but your step-father.

Peter knows the two of you don’t get along. The man drinks too much, stays out too late even during the week and sometimes, he doesn’t even come home for days. Your mother always welcomed him back with open arms and chose to ignore the empty bottles of vodka and whiskey in the trash. She ignored the perfume on his clothes and his behavior towards you and stayed with him, a man so unstable he couldn’t hold jobs longer than a few months at a time. Her blindness to his shenanigans always angered Peter, because the relationship between your mother and step-father affected you in more ways than you cared to admit.

He knows you wish it was him who died instead of your mom and frankly, Peter wishes the same. He never liked the guy.  

Peter is extremely worried about you, because he knows the drinking has doubled since your mom died. You’ve been skipping school to take care of the household and you know very well how Peter feels about your step-father’s lack of participation in and around the home. He started taking you away from your house whenever he could find the time and you’d even met Tony Stark the first time Peter took you to the tower. It surprised Peter to see how well the two of you got along, but then again, computer science is your favorite subject in school so it’s something the two of you could bond over. Well, it used to be anyway, because the class got dropped after the teacher and eight of his students got lost in the Snap. 

Peter’s heart rams against his rib cage when you finally answer the phone. In the background, he can hear people screaming and shouting. 

“Y/N? Where the hell are you?” He asks, using his webs to sling himself from building to building to avoid being seen in broad daylight. 

“Central bank,” you whisper under shaky breaths, “gun. Can’t talk.” 

The line goes dead once again, and Peter immediately changes direction. 

You knew something was wrong when Hank offered to drive you to school this morning, because he’d never volunteered to take you anywhere before and you doubted he would start now. The red rims around his dull, yellow eyes made you decline his proposal at first but he insisted, and in fear of getting hurt by a man nearly twice your size, you finally agreed to have him drive you to school. You weren’t in any kind of mood to argue with him, and you sure as hell didn’t want to provoke him. Besides, the drive would only take ten minutes, while walking took you nearly half an hour, so you couldn’t exactly complain. 

It saddened you to see him like this. The two of you never really got along, but at least a small part of you hoped that the shared loss of your mom and little brother would bring you some type of twisted companionship, something dark to bond over. You wanted to ask him if Peter could stay over for dinner, but the dark sweat stains on his creme t-shirt and his iron grip on the wheel made you stay quiet. 

Hank never liked talking when he had a hangover. Talking too much always made him angry, and you don’t like seeing him pissed off. Granted, the only times he’d physically hurt you were when he was so drunk he couldn’t even tell you his own name, but you still fear him even now, afraid that one day he might actually do something he can never take back. With this knowledge, you typically stick to avoiding him on mornings after he’s had too much to drink. Nowadays though, it’s all he does. 

Even when he deviates from the usual route to your school, you bite your tongue in fear of pissing him off. Perhaps, you think, he’s forgotten the location of your school or maybe he’s too hungover to think straight and the entire time, you expect him to turn around. He doesn’t, but wen he finally does stop, he does so in front of Central Bank. 

You finally dare to speak up, asking him quietly what the two of you are doing there and fully expect him to sneer at you, to spit out that he’s only going to withdrawal money from your mother’s account again so he can support his bad habits, but instead of answering, he leaves you in the car and reaches for the trunk. 

“What are you doing?!” You ask fearfully when he rips open your door and grabs a fistful of your hair. 

“Shut up and don’t make a sound, got it?” 

He pulls your head towards the ground when he walks, so the only thing you can see is the beat up sneakers on his feet and the terrifying barrel of a semi-automatic weapon. There’s no security guard near the entrance, but you don’t have enough time to wonder where he might be, because Hank’s already crossed the threshold and he’s shouting like mad when you realize what the hell is going on.  

"Everybody sit the fuck down on the ground or I'll kill every last of one you!" 

Screams erupt from every corner, and as Hank angrily waves the gun around in an attempt to scare the customers and bank personnel, people left and right begin to duck behind chairs, desks and in booths. You can hear a baby crying somewhere nearby, and your palms are sweating and shaky when you curl them into fists. You’ve always known he’s crazy, but even for him, this is fucking insane.

"Hank, what the fuck are you doing?" You scream, feeling the pressure of his grip on your neck sting like a hot iron.

"Shut up, before I shut you up myself. Don't make a god damn sound, you hear me? That goes for all of you!" 

The next hour is a complete blur. Shots are fired into cream-colored walls, demands are made on stolen cellphones and most of all, you and everybody else inside is scared shitless. Hank forces you to sit in of the empty chair behind counter three, the one where people come to apply for loans. He continues to keep the gun pointed mostly at you - the hostage he uses to negotiate his demands. You called Peter when his back was turned to you, but couldn’t speak at first out of pure terror of being seen or heard. 

Outside, flashing red and blue lights draw near, and the sound of multiple helicopters rounding the perimeter nearly drowns out the sound of Hank’s screeching voice when one of the clerks makes an unexpected move. You’ve never seen him this angry and doubt you’ll ever see it again. Practically all bank transfers are conducted digitally nowadays, most banks using shares on the stock market to finance their customer’s savings accounts. Sure, there’s physical money inside, but none of the desk clerks have access to the vault where they keep the big bucks. How Hank didn’t realize this is a mystery to you. 

You’re starting to realize time is running out when SWAT arrives with a hostage negotiator. Peter can feel his heart nearly exploding inside his chest when he thinks of you as he slings his way across the city. He’s never run faster across rooftops, but he doesn’t take a moment to breathe until he makes it there. 

It doesn’t take him very long to sneak inside through one of the top floor’s open windows. Peter ignores the news camera’ that zoom in on him while he climbs inside, swallowing thickly at the knowledge that Tony’ll probably be pissed off later. 

He jumps down the staircase, swinging from left to right and balancing on the barricades until he reaches the first floor of the old building. Directly beneath him, he can hear the commotion and when he finally finds an air vent in one of the break rooms, he uses his webs to fling himself up and inside. His phone vibrates again when he’s slowly crawling his way through the dusty vents, but he doesn’t answer, because he can see you sitting in your chair shaking like a leaf when he finally reaches one of the vents that lead to the main entrance. 

He notices your step-father walking anxiously in circles, his eyes wildly darting across the entire ground floor to make sure nobody tried to take him down. He needs money now that his source of income has died and the amount of debt he finds himself in leads him to believe this is the only way to do it. 

Peter quickly and quietly unscrews the roster that allows fresh air to distribute throughout the ground floor and silently moves it to the side. 

Look up. 

He quickly texts you, but doesn’t realize your phone might make a sound until he’s already pressed send. He releases a deep breath when you check the message, and begin to search around the ceiling with a worried frown on your face until your finally eyes land on him halfway hidden in the darkness. 

You sigh inaudibly but tremble when the gun goes off three times and Hank begins to shout at a mother and her crying baby. 

“I'm going to get you out," Peter mouths at you after pushing up his mask you you can see his lips. 

He has to get the gun away from Hank, who is now pacing back and forth on the other side of the wall. With one swift motion, Peter drops down from the vent with his finger pushed against his mask to let the people know to keep quiet. He slides behind your chair and gives your hand a tight squeeze before disappearing just in time to see the barrel of the gun followed by Hank. 

Sweat drips down the man’s face and back, veins popping angrily in his neck protruding from his temples. Outside, the hostage negotiator uses a megaphone to shout at him, but it’s as if nobody is paying attention to what he’s saying. You only have eyes for Peter, who’s crouched under one of the desks, his arms stretched out in front of him so he can get a good angle on Hank. 

Before you get a chance to do as much as blink, silvery webs shoot out from Peter's wrists. They latch onto the cold metal of the firearm and begin to quickly retreat, pulling the weapon out of Hank's sweaty palms. He accidentally pulls the trigger when he struggles to hold on to the only thing that’s currently keeping him alive, firing four shots into the wall before the gun clashes to the ground and drags away from him.

His eyes bulge out of his head when he sees Spider Man, now standing on top of the desk. Peter yanks his arms back, flinging the weapon towards the security guard, who was sitting near the water cooler next to the staff room. The man doesn’t hesitate to pick it up and disarm it, emptying the magazine onto the ground until every last bullet falls to the ground with a clang. They bounce across the floor and roll under desks and at people's feet, away from the man who threatened to kill with them. 

Within minutes, the entire place is surrounded by SWAT and cops, their guns aimed at the man who was willing to kill innocent people for his own benefit. 

You can hardly get up from your chair when you feel something warm and smooth pressed up against your body. You instantly feel your knees buckling under you, but Peter uses his strength to keep you from falling. Reporters outside try their hardest to catch a glimpse of what’s going on inside the bank, but police officers hold them back as best they can, cutting off their view with all their might while the two of you hug. 

Your entire body trembles and your heart feels like it was going to explode as you shivered in Peter's arms, holding onto the boy for what felt like dear life. 

"Shh," he whispers in your ear, "It's okay. I got you."

You try to speak, to thank him for coming as quickly as he did, but nothing comes out except throaty stutters and shaky breaths. You’re hurting, even a blind man can see it.

“You came,” you manage, “he just lost it.” 

“Of course I did silly,” he replies, “I couldn’t let you get hurt, could I?”

People all around you gasp audibly when Peter pulls off his mask, synapses doing jumping jacks when you come face to face with him in public. He’s never taken off the mask in front of people before, especially not in front of reporters, and out of all of the Avengers, his identity is the only one that up until now remained a secret. Peter isn’t thinking about what Tony might say or what Steve might think. He’s not concerned with the gaping expressions of journalists and cops alike, or with the newspapers that will have his face plastered on the front page tomorrow. He doesn’t care because grown attached to you. 

The feeling had crept up on him slowly, and he hadn’t realized it until now, when the possibility of losing you for the second time in such a short amount of time finally managed to get it through his head.

“What are you doing?” You ask, eyes wide and pupils blown out. 

“I want you to see me,” he says, “not the mask.”

“But-” you stammer, “your identity. They’ll know. Everyone will know.” 

“I don’t care anymore,” Peter uses his thumb to caress your cheek, “let ‘em know that spider man’s just a kid from Queens. I’m sick of hiding.”

The small smile that plays on your rosy lips makes his heart skip a beat. He’s in love with you, has been for a while now, and Peter’s pretty sure the adrenaline surging in his veins is the reason for the sudden realization. He opens his mouth to speak and the words dangle on the tip of his tongue, but he remains silent when a police officer drapes a blanket over your shoulders and asks you if you require medical attention.

He’ll tell you, he reckons. When the time is right.

[amintyworld]

My Official Dream SMPsona: Flower

(I heard some of you guys wanted to see this, and this was pretty fun to make. Ask box is open, I’d love to talk about her more. I’ll have to work at drawing her later this week, so be on the lookout for that! Anyway, hope you enjoy! - Minty)

------------------------------

Name: Flower

Age: 16

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight Demisexual

Joined: September 22, 2020

Current Cannon Lives: 2/3

Alignment: Neutral Good

Fighting: Only skilled with a bow/crossbow, otherwise is absolutely terrible at PVP.

Look: Short brown hair, dark blue eyes, pale skin, black framed glasses, dark blue sweatshirt with black leggings and blue sneakers. Either wearing a light pink flower crown or a random flower in her hair.

-------------------------------

Quotes:

“I am NOT weak! Don’t you ever DARE call me weak!”

“You know what they say, Tubbo: Tomorrow is always another day, and it’ll probably be a better one.”

“I help because… because… because I want to. I need to. So many people are hurting, and I… I just didn’t want to add to that. If so much bad happened, we need a little good to balance, don’t we?”

“My name is Flower and I speak for the trees!”

“These are my cat babies, hurt them and you die.”

“STOP! Just… just stop, stop it please, I...I dunno what to choose, I don’t… I don’t want to choose, don’t MAKE me choose!”

“You deserve a grave, Ghostbur. Everyone deserves to be remembered, no matter what. It’s not about what they did while they were alive, they were people. They deserve to be remembered as a person. A person who tried.”

“You know Philza Minecraft, you’re pretty cool.”

-----------------------------------

Fun Facts / Headcanons:

Extremely Indecisive, especially when it comes to joining a group because she doesn’t want to hurt any of her friends. She always wants to make the right decision, but as the choices turn more grey she can get stressed and put pressure on herself, always worried about doing something wrong that sometimes she’ll go into a full panic attack. This can lead to frustration when she seems to just be helping all of them instead of just choosing one.

Always ready to help and lend materials to others whenever they need.

Has a cat named Rose and another named Lavender, is self-proclaimed ‘Cat-Mom’.

Loves giving gifts to anyone at any time for whatever reason - she loves making others happy, as well as giving others something to remember her by when she’s gone.

Made the land around her house a nature preserve and went to court over the matter when someone chopped down her birch tree.

Has a book full of inspirational quotes that she sometimes uses in conversation.

Is often called “weak” for her PvP skills by Schlatt, Dream, and a few times even Techno, which got under her skin all too quickly, leading her to desperately try to constantly prove them wrong, getting angry and upset when it doesn’t work. This leads to many of them picking on her and pushing her around since she can’t exactly fight back.

Always sees the good in everyone, even some of the darkest villains, which many say is naive. She sees people like Wilbur, Schlatt, Dream - as people hurting and in need of help. Of course, she doesn’t try to excuse what they’ve done, but she doesn’t like when people call them evil or monsters, because to her they’re not. Everyone has good inside of them, they’ve just lost that part of themselves, even ignoring it.

She lives by the golden rule and didn’t like when people celebrated Schlatt’s death or Tommy’s and made no gravestone for Wilbur. Treat people the way you want to be treated - do you want people to celebrate your death, or to never memorialize you or even give you a proper burial?

When her friends and allies turn against her, she’s never mad at them. Just disappointed in what they let themselves become, and holds no ill-will toward any of them.

After the Manburg v Pogtopia War, seeing all the heartbreak, destruction, and hurt that was caused she committed herself to spread a bit of happiness around, to bring it all back to balance and help people recover - planting flowers around New L’manburg, helping Phil settle in as well as helping to rebuild.

She grows closer with Phil and Tubbo during this time - Phil appreciated her kind spirit and help, which he said he’d repay tenfold, and Tubbo liked her support and help to rebuild, especially when he was forced to exile Tommy, she reminded her Dream put them in a tough spot, that there wasn’t much of a choice.

She turned her protected lands into a healing garden and invited any who needed it to visit - she added a bench swing and a small pond.

She once followed Phil to find Techno, and the two panicked, Technoblade almost killing her before Phil stepped in, vouching for her. She promised not to say anything if it would put them more at ease. When questioned by Technoblade on her intentions, her answer was pretty simple: “Look, I don’t really understand why you did what you did. You hurt a lot of people and caused a lot of pain. But I don’t feel like it’s my place to judge you, I don’t know the story and I don’t think it’s my story to know. I’m glad you’re okay, Technoblade.”

When she goes against the Butcher Army, Quackity pushes her around, asking what she thinks she’s going to do against four people with netherite armor and axes. She tries to fight but as always she gets beat up pretty badly. Finally, she just turns to look at Tubbo. “Look at what you’re doing, Tubbo. Please, this isn’t the way.” When they go toward Phil, she steps in front to protect him as the tensions rise and she loses a cannon life by Quackity after he gets so mad at her protests he snaps and gets rid of her.

After he escapes she goes to meet Technoblade in secret, asking for training. She realized that if she was going to do any good, she needed to get stronger. They make a deal for him to train her, but in return, she’ll have to be his eyes in New L’manburg in order to help out Phil. She agrees.

She continues to train as the days pass and eventually she helps Phil escape and get back to the safety of Techno’s house. The training continues when Techno has the time.

When both her teacher and her close friend side with Dream to destroy her home, she tells them that she won’t stop them or betray them, but she needed to protect her home, that her friends needed her. When Technoblade insisted that this was a betrayal, she reminded him that it wasn’t, that for the longest time she supported him and helped him even though she didn’t always agree with him, and now she’s asking that he does the same. She gives them some gapples and a couple of potions. “I’ll see you both on the other side. I’m sorry. Just… be careful, and do what you have to do.”

She moves her stuff just in case, knowing her friends, and cries with the others over the destruction of her home. When Phil finds her after, wanting to talk after his interaction with Ghostbur, she tells him that it isn’t the best time right now, trying to force a smile. “Hey, look - I’m happy for you, Phil. I’m happy that you succeeded, I just need a bit more than a minute, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow.”

She gives both Tubbo and Tommy on the Final Confrontation Day each a cookie and wishes them the best of luck, and was there, willing to risk another life to protect Tommy and Tubbo and stop Dream from causing more hurt and destruction than he already has.