#hi sorry it's uh technically the next day now it's past midnight here

[amphibia-a-day]

Day 1152 of Amphibia Screenshots

Episode: All In

[1kook]

commercial break ; NINE

this is part of my netflix & chill series!

SUMMARY “I think that, like— me and you? We’re like, totally destined,” you ramble, “you should, like, take my number! And maybe we can, like— Netflix and chill one of these days?” WARNING angst with implied smut at the end!!, flashbacks, low self esteem, alcohol consumption, jk is (implied) a virgin in this, there’s a lil fondling by oc u know the usual  MISC they r soulmates <3, our queen doyeon returns, i tried to use symbolism👁 in the dialogue so yes everything drunk oc says has a meaning hehe RATING m bc alcohol WC 2.2k

NOTES i said once a long time ago that n&c couple were prolly at the same party once but didn't realize so hERE WE GO ! its not proofread bc um. yeah<3

Homecoming week. 

Jungkook doesn’t even think his university’s football team is good, but he had read somewhere that part of the college experience is obnoxiously supporting this team all four years. And well. Jungkook wants to fit in. Frankly, Jungkook feels a little dumb having accepted this invitation from Kim Taehyung from his first-year writing class. He’s only known the man a solid four weeks, probably won’t know him this well once Taehyung finds real friends, ones who suit his outgoing personality, and decides Jungkook is too boring, but Jungkook will make the best of it while he can because, again, he wants to fit in. Badly. It’ll be different this time, he had told himself while getting ready. You won’t be awkward anymore. You’ll make friends. 

And then it’s nearing midnight and Jungkook has spoken to a whopping two people at this party of over a hundred. Not including Taehyung, it’s down to one. Even that had only been to ask where the bathroom was. He feels severely out of place, like he’s both too large and too small to be in this area, to be at this party, so he shuffles into the kitchen when he hears them call for another match of beer pong. He’s actually pretty good at the game, has refined his skills at get togethers with his older cousins. But it’s not like anyone here wants to be Jungkook’s partner anyway. Or even knows who he is for that matter. 

Taehyung had bumped into him a little past ten, had had two girls clinging to his sides when he had greeted Jungkook. One of them had almost looked tempted, Jungkook wanted to believe, brushing her hand against his arm. But he didn’t act quick enough— what would he even have done? what did he even want? —and Taehyung disappeared with both girls soon after, leaving Jungkook by himself once more. 

The kitchen is empty, the drinks long since having migrated to the living area of this huge frat. With a defeated sigh, Jungkook sinks back against one of the counters, setting his lukewarm cup of beer down beside him. He’s buzzed, drank in a feeble attempt to ‘lose himself’ as all the movies claimed. But now all he can feel is a pounding headache threatening to consume him. He doesn’t even like drinking— why did he drink this much? 

He should go home. 

Events like this, parties like this— they weren’t meant for someone like Jungkook. He was too quiet, too shy to let loose like everyone else. He doesn’t do well in social situations, or at least not as well as his therapist had told him he would. He hesitates too much, never speaks when he needs to. Haerim from his freshman basics class had even said so. “You’re quiet, huh,” she had smiled, and when her notebook had touched his elbow, he flinched. She didn’t take it to heart. Just like Taehyung wouldn’t if he left right now. They know how he is. He doesn’t belong here. These types of parties were made for outgoing people, people who lived on the edge, people who weren’t trapped in their own thoughts all the time, people like—

Like the girl who stumbles through the doorway now. “Woooo,” she slurs, and then promptly faceplants into the dirty tile of the kitchen, the same tile littered with sticky footprints and random debris. He can’t even imagine what else is on the floor of a frat house mid-party. Jungkook flinches at the sound of her knee hitting the ground, before rushing over to help her up. 

She’s a giggling mess, eyes half shut by the time Jungkook gets her into a seated position. “Are you okay?” he flounders, hand on her shoulder when she wobbles again, nearly falls back down. 

“Just peachy,” she sings, flashing him a sloppy thumbs up. Her neck isn’t doing a particularly good job of holding her head up and when Jungkook places a hand on the back of her head, she leans into it, blissful smile on her face. She’s really pretty, it makes Jungkook’s cheeks burn when she aims it at him next. “Pucca loves Garu,” she lets him know, eyes finally fluttering open. “He’s a pretty boy.”

Jungkook blinks. He has no idea what you’re talking about. “Huh?” he stutters, glancing back at the bar stool by the counter instead. It’s probably infinitely times better than the sticky tile beneath your bare legs. “I’m gonna stand you up,” he tells you, taking your loud cackle as a sign that you’re okay with it. Jungkook’s been working out all summer, so you’re not heavy in the slightest, arms thrown around his shoulders while he slips his own around your back. Your proximity leaves him drowning in your scent. 

The giggles don’t subside when he sits you down, not even when he begins opening random cabinets in search of a glass to get you some water. He’s had his fair share of experiences looking after drunk people, so he has a pretty good idea of what to do now. However, your sudden bout of commentary certainly doesn’t make it easier. “Isn’t it, like, super cool how the sun and the moon are, like—“ a hiccup, Jungkook settles on tap water “tooootally different beings, but, like— they, like, both maintain the earth?” Your hand reaches for his forearm when he returns, gives him this little squeeze in your excitement. “Like— Like they both have to, like— work together? To keep it perfect, y’know?” 

Jungkook pushes the water into your hands. You’ve got this sparkly sheen to your eyes, the one that most people get after one too many drinks, but it’s accompanied by this childlike wonder that leaves Jungkook breathless when you meet his gaze. “Yeah,” he says quietly. You beam. It’s blinding. So blinding that Jungkook promptly looks away, nudging the cup in your hands. “You need to drink this.”

You frown. “Boooo, so boring,” you huff. It’s nothing Jungkook hasn’t heard before, but it is a little disheartening to hear it from a stranger. He stamps the feeling down, pursing his lips as he gives up on letting you drink yourself. The cup is swiped from your hand and Jungkook tasks himself with making you drink it instead. And of course, like all wasted young adults, you put up a fight. “Ew, what is that?” you spit. 

Jungkook sighs. “Water.” 

At his defeated tone, the exaggerated grimace slips off your face, replaced with a rather solemn expression instead. Jungkook tries to take advantage of it and pushes the cup against your lip again, but all he really accomplishes is sloshing it down the front of your dress. You don’t yelp, but he does. “I’m so sorry,” he panics, sliding the sleeve of his shirt down around his thumb to wipe your chin. 

You let him, head tilted curiously to the side. Jungkook tries to ignore your analytical gaze until: “you’re cute,” you announce, and abruptly send him into shock. 

He recoils, face a blazing mess. “I’m—“ he chokes, swallowing when you wipe your hand down your own chest, leave a glistening layer of water over your sternum and down between your breasts. 

“Cute,” you repeat, downing the glass he had been trying to coax into you like it’s nothing now. With it gone, you don’t waste any time, throwing your hands around his shoulders, fingers brushing through the hair at the base of his neck. You pull him close, so close in fact, that he ends up having to hold the back of your chair to keep from accidentally crushing you with his weight. “Your name, pretty boy?” 

He can’t think. You’re so drunk and smell so good and are just so pretty— his brain short circuits. “Um I’m, uh, Jeon J—“

“Jeon,” you repeat, silly smile back on your face. You’re not technically wrong, so he nods along with a blush high on his cheeks. “Well, Jeon,” you purr, but you’re still so drunk, eyelids fluttering in a rather funny way. “I think that, like— me and you? We’re like, totally destined,” you ramble, “you should, like, take my number! And maybe we can, like— Netflix and chill one of these days?”

Jungkook doesn’t even know what that means, and honestly, he doesn’t really hear you over the thundering of his own heart and the bass in the other room. “Um, but you’re really…” he stammers, leaning back but a finger loops around one of his curls and he gasps when you pull at it. “You’re drunk,” he rushes out, lower lip trembling when your nose knocks against his. 

A soft hum, the sound sending electricity down his spine when you cup his cheek. “But don’t you think I’m pretty?” you murmur, eyes flickering to his mouth. 

“Yes,“ he chokes out, “you’re a very, very pretty girl. But I really shouldn’t—“

“Hey,” you shush, tilting his head just the slightest. Jungkook has never had a girl touch him like this, has never even touched a girl before either, but, well. He really wants to kiss you. And that’s saying a lot considering Jungkook has never kissed anyone before. 

Despite how good it feels, he knows you’re still really drunk. It’s with a decisive huff that he pushes away, hands on your waist to keep you from touching up on him any further. You’re not that strong anyway. And then he’s met with the biggest pout he’s ever seen, an absolutely distraught look on your face. 

Something in him says you’ll cry if he doesn’t explain himself soon, so he launches into it right away. “You’re very pretty,” he says, almost laughing at the way your entire face lights up immediately. “But you’re very drunk.” You huff. “You deserve to be treated like a queen.” Mostly regurgitating something he heard in a motivational video. 

It works. Eventually, you stop being fussy in his arms and settle with a frown. “You’re too nice,” you grumble, forehead on the countertop. He doesn’t see how it’s much better than the floor but he lets you be. “You got a girlfriend, don’t you?” 

At that, Jungkook laughs. “No,” he reassures you, hesitates, and then gently pats your back. Jungkook actually feels you melt under his touch. That sultry look is gone, replaced with this rather tranquil look that he doesn’t quite understand. 

“That was pretty,” you murmur, but Jungkook doesn’t quite hear. 

“What was that?” he asks.

“I said your smile was pre—“

“There you are!” someone hollers from the kitchen doorway, the shrill tone of their voice making both you and Jungkook jump. When he turns around, he’s met with the sight of a rather tall girl angrily stomping your way, eyes a blazing fire, fists clenched by her side. Jungkook realizes only a second too late that she’s looking at him. “Get off of her, you sweaty city-owned dumpster,” she hisses, using the strength of three football players to push Jungkook away. “You make me sick—“

“Doyeonie,” you beam, launching yourself into the angry girl’s arms. Ah. The Help had arrived. 

Said angry girl (Doyeonie?) is still using every mash-up of words possible to degrade Jungkook as she hauls you into her arms, shooting daggers every step of the way. “I can’t believe you would try to take advantage of a poor girl when she’s this drunk,” she spits. 

“What?” Jungkook coughs, cheeks warm. “I wasn’t—“

“Tell it to Campus Safety when I report you, you wannabe, dollar store Rain.” Jungkook clutches his chest at the acidity of her tongue, surprised anyone could be so mean. 

All things considered, this was actually good. Someone who knew you had come to take you to safety, meaning Jungkook didn’t have to look after you anymore. When this Doyeonie turns around, he’s met with your smiley face smushed against her shoulder. 

(It’s weird. He’s a little sad to see you go.) 

“Bye, Jeon,” you giggle, hand brushing down his arm, squeezing his hand, before you’re abruptly yanked away. Jungkook manages one weak wave, cheeks lit ablaze once more when you send him a silly air kiss from the doorway, urging him to catch it. He does, and he feels really silly when he puts it in his pocket, but he can hear your laughter for a second more before he loses you. 

The last few minutes being so hectic, he decides to go home. Parties weren’t really his thing. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever go to one again. 

Until a few years later. 

“You’re, like, really pretty,” you slur, lips against his throat. Another invitation, this time, Taehyung’s birthday. His friend had practically begged him to come, knowing how Jungkook was. In the end, it had been you who had accepted on his behalf. 

“Baby, not here,” he laughs, hand on your shoulder when you try to shove your hand down his pants for the third time that night. 

Taehyung had been ecstatic to see Jungkook here. And then had quickly become annoyed when he caught the two of you making out in his storage closet an hour later. “Bro, don’t be that couple at parties,” he had groaned, locking the door behind him. 

Jungkook had laughed. “I wouldn’t know what ‘that couple’ is at parties,” he reminded him. 

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m sure your girlfriend can fill you in.”

Apparently not. You’ve been trying to kiss him for the past three minutes but keep missing because you’re so drunk. “Just one,” you beg, so pretty but so drunk. The fake lashes you’d worn today make you look like a doll, batting them his way until he’s giving in, slotting his lips against yours. You’re probably going to throw up in his bathroom when you get home, so he should make the best of your kisses now. Jungkook pushes that thought aside as he reaches a hand out to wipe at the sweat accumulating on your chest. There’s something weird about the gesture, like he’s done it before at another party. But that doesn’t make sense; he couldn't have— this is his first party with you. 

“We should, like, leave,” you whisper against his ear, fingers burying themselves in his hair; when you pull on a strand, he nearly moans. “Go home. Maybe netflix and—“ a hiccup that makes him smile “—chill?”

Jungkook kisses your temple. “Sounds good to me, pretty girl.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[headheartbellarke]

I Wish You Would | CHARLIE GILLESPIE

Requested by anon: “hello🌼 could u please write a charlie x reader imagine when he posts a picture on his instagram story with a girl to makes his crush jealous, but she end up distancing herself from him bc she's hurt and respect what she thinks is his relationship” PAIRING(s): Charlie Gillespie x fem!reader WORDS: 2,445 WARNING(s): angst w a happy ending, some language SUMMARY: “I wish you knew that I'd never forget you as long as I'd live."

A/N: hi, everyone!! really, really sorry that this took so long. haven’t had the best march tbh, and writer’s block is a bitch. && this isn’t very good, either, but i had to get something done. love u <3

TEN HOURS EARLIER

“And… post!” Charlie taps his phone, grinning brightly.

Owen cheers from behind him, his voice meshing into the humdrum of the bar they’re currently at. “I’m so proud of you!”

His friend laughs, spinning around in the bar stool to face him. “She’ll finally understand what it feels like!”

Owen nods frantically, taking another sip of the drink in his hand.

Charlie copies his movement – a part of him knows that he is absolutely hammered, but the bigger part of him doesn’t care. He’s had a long day, and he deserves this.

Besides, how else would he and his best friend have thought of this wonderful plan if they didn’t have a billion drinks in their system?

PRESENT

A knock on the door pulls Y/N from her thoughts. “Come in!” She yells, but her voice comes out feeble and hoarse, probably from all the crying she’s been doing for the past hour.

As the door swings open, her best friend, Savannah, pokes her head in. “Hey, babe. You all right?”

Y/N sniffs. “M’fine.”

Savannah enters the room, closing the door softly behind her. She walks to the window, opening the curtains, and Y/N groans when light floods into the previously dark room.

She sits on the bed beside Y/N, and Y/N rests her head on her shoulder as she pulls the covers up to cover their bodies.

“I’m sure that they’re not dating.” Savannah says, wrapping an arm around her best friend.

Y/N chuckles sadly. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Sav. I mean, in the photo, he was kissing her cheek. Literally. And he put a heart between them.”

Savannah sighs. “That’s so not Charlie, you know… kissing random girls in bars and posting pictures with them.”

“Yeah, that’s so not Charlie, because she’s not a random girl. Her name’s Francesca and she went to high school with him, so, technically, she’s known him longer, and probably better than me.”

“I – I had no idea.”

“Yeah.”

“Y/N, babe, just tell him about how you feel. I’m sure that he likes you too.”

“If he liked me, then he wouldn’t be kissing Francesca!”

Y/N exhales, as Savannah gulps, not knowing what to respond. “Y/N, I – I swear, he’s crazy about you. I don’t know what happened between last Friday and today, but I swear – the Charlie that I know – has eyes for no one but you.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, feeling a pang in her heart at Savannah’s words. “Savannah, we kissed and then he ghosted me for a day and now he’s posting pictures of him kissing another girl! I think he has eyes for everyone!”

Savannah bites her lower lip, not knowing what to respond, again. Her best friend feels tears prick at the back of her eyes when she says, “Maybe I’m a bad kisser.”

Savannah’s eyes widen, and she sits up, straight. “No. No. Babe, no. Don’t say that, ever. You’re a great kisser, okay! You’re an amazing kisser. Your lips are fine as hell, believe me. He’s the one with crusty ass lips. They’re not even lips, they look like… like… peanuts.”

Y/N stares at her best friend for a moment, before saying, “Peanuts, Sav? Really?”

“It’s the first thing that came into my mind!” She says defensively, before the girls break into a fit of laughter.

“I’m never talking to him again, ever.” Y/N says after they’ve calmed down. “I’m never even gonna look in his direction. Fucking asshole.”

*

Charlie sighs, taking another sip of his coffee. It’s eight in the morning, and he’s normally a morning person – he loves the mornings, the peace, the quiet, and the feeling that comes along with it more than anything, but right now, he just feels… sad.

On regular days, he would be talking to his best friend, Y/N, about everything that’s on his mind. But today’s different.

Last Friday, Y/N kissed him, and long story sort, it was the best thing that’s ever happened to him. After work that day, they went to get some food at a drive through, like they usually do. All throughout the ride, they made plans to go hiking once the production for season two finishes. She drove the car to a lookout, and oh, god, it was so pretty. The midnight sky was littered with stars, and since they were at the edge of town, there was less pollution, and they could see bits of the galaxy, too.

But, for some reason, the girl next to him seemed more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen, and after they finished eating, he just sat and stared at her talk about the last book that she’d read, for a while. He knows that it was terrible that he wasn’t listening – but how could he pay attention to anything when she looked like that, especially with passion illuminating her face like times square on New Year’s Eve?

She had looked at him as if he’d just grown a third head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Li – like what?” He’d asked, embarrassed to be blatantly caught.

“Like that…” She’d said and kissed him, and it felt like he was seeing colour for the first time. Although, the next day, everything turned to shit.

Now, it’s Monday, and she’s nowhere to be seen. He desperately wants to know if his and Owen’s plan actually worked (no reason that it wouldn’t), and he feels so impatient right now, and he misses her. Also, his massive hangover isn’t helping, either.

He hears his name being called, and sees Kenny smiling at him.

“Hey, so we’re gonna do a different scene today, since Y/N and Savannah are out, is that okay with you?”

His heart races. “What happened to them?”

“Y/N’s sick, and Savannah’s taking care of her.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s okay with me.” He says, feeling his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach.

*

“This is the last time I’m asking you this…” Y/N sings, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Put my name at the top of your list!” Savannah sings, using Y/N’s straightener as a mic.

“This is the last time I’m asking you why!” Madison joins.

“You break my heart in the blink of an eye, eye, eye!” Jadah sings, jumping on the bed.

As the second verse comes on, the girls sit on Y/N’s bed, huddled close to each other.

“You know, I’m feeling better now than I did when I woke up.” Y/N says, resting her chin on her knees.

“Taylor Swift can fix anything.” Madison says, leaning her head on Y/N’s shoulder.

She nods. “And y’all. Thanks for being here.”

Jadah grins, wrapping an arm around her. “We couldn’t let you have a pity party all alone!”

Savannah laughs. “I’m gonna kill him, I swear.”

“As relieving as that would be, don’t. I’ve decided what I should do.”

Madison quirks a brow. “You’re gonna kill him yourself?”

“Madi! No. I’m gonna distance myself.”

Savannah tilts her head. “I think that maybe you two should talk it out.”

“I don’t think so. I need space, time to figure it out. My head feels like a mess. And I respect him and Francesca, and I’m not gonna dip my toes between them.”

The other girls solemnly nod their head.

“You do realize that that’s not actually the saying?” Jadah says, after a while.

“Don’t embarrass me, kid.”

*

Charlie exhales, watching his breath crystallize to tiny ice particles in front of him. Even though, he’s a Canadian, he still feels cold. Although maybe it’s not due to the weather, but due to the coldness in Y/N’s eyes.

He watches her chat with Jeremy a few feet away, both of them discussing something that is out of bounds to him. He knows that it’s probably decisions regarding their characters, considering Y/N’s character is Jeremy’s character, Reggie’s love interest, but a part of him feels like it’s shit about him.

He has no reason to feel that way, of course. He hasn’t spoken to Y/N in four days, and this morning, when he saw her after for what feels to be eternity, he was blatantly ignored. He had only watched helplessly as Y/N exited the room the moment he entered and had sunk into his chair feeling like absolute shit, especially with everyone’s pitiful stares.

Charlie’s mind keeps replaying each moment, torturing over every tiny detail, wondering what he did wrong.

And that’s when it hits him: she really doesn’t want him anymore.

Last Saturday, he had hopelessly watched her with her long-term boyfriend of god-knows-how-long – he had come to surprise her on set, and it was Charlie that was more surprised. Because he thought that they were over, for good. And it wasn’t like they seemed like they weren’t dating. They were acting just like they used to when they were dating, and he was too close to her for his comfort. They still laughed the same, joked around the same, and were just as inseparable as they used to be.

A question kept rising in Charlie’s mind, like an icicle to his heart: why would she kiss him when she already had someone else? Why would she give him hope, and then take it all away? Why would she dangle his hurt in front of him?

So, he decided to give her a taste of her own medicine, and posted a picture with Francesca, his high school friend, who he had run into that night.

Owen sinks into the chair beside Charlie. “You okay?”

“I’m starting to believe that our plan didn’t work.”

*

“Hey, uh, Y/N?”

The girl in question hears Charlie’s voice, and turns around, avoiding looking into his eyes.

“Can we talk?” He says, and for a moment, her defences are down again. He looks so… tired, almost like he’s going through the same things that she is. Almost like there’s an explanation as to why he broke her heart, why he ruined something that had the potential to be extraordinary, why he made her feel so bad about herself.

And she almost believes it, too. Like the fool she is.

She presses her lips into a thin line, and says, “Nothing to talk about.”

As Charlie opens his mouth to protest, she smiles and walks away.

*

“Okay, Charlie, you two need to talk it out. This is too much. Both of you are obviously hurting, and there’s obviously some serious miscommunication here.”

Charlie shakes his head at Savannah’s words. “She hates me.”

“No. She could never hate you.” She says, thrusting her phone in Charlie’s face. His eyes squint to read the text on the screen – from Y/N.

Sorry – forgot to leave a note. Drove down to Dad’s, gonna stay here for a while. It’s too painful – honestly, you know what? I’m still very, very, very mad at him. But I’m also missing him very, very, very much. So, I need to flush it out. Flush him out. He might be a jerk, but he’s still one of the best people that I’ve ever met. Love you, okay? Will return when the time is right.

Charlie’s eyes widen, and he stares at Savannah’s face for a while. “There – there is still hope!”

She nods frantically. “You should call her –”

“I’m gonna drive down to her dad’s house, too!”

“That works, too.”

*

A frantic knock on the front door pulls Y/N from her thoughts. She stops typing on her keyboard, and flips the lid shut, keeping it on the dining table in front of her.

She runs to her dad’s door, knowing that it’s him, back from his shopping. She opens the door, saying, “Let me take those for – Charlie?!”

Y/N’s heart swells at his sight as he grins sheepishly.

“So, there’s been some misunderstandings… can I come in?” He asks, and Y/N pauses, considering.

He sighs, and adds, “Please?”

She stares at him.

He juts his bottom lip out. “Pretty please?”

“Fine, come in.”

He closes the door behind him, wordlessly following Y/N, who feels like she might hurl right now. They sit on the couch, and it’s really, really awkward for a few seconds.

Y/N sighs. “You said you –”

“Yes. Yes, yeah. OK, so – I, uh, I –”

She couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Why would you do that to me? Do I really mean that little to you?”

“I could say the same about you!”

“Really?”

“Yes! I saw you with Shahid that day, I know that you two are back together –”

“Shahid?!”

“Yes!”

She stares at him, baffled.

“So…so… Francesca….”

“I only posted the picture to make you jealous! She asked me if I wanted to go out with her and the rest of my high school friends, and of course I went, and she saw that I was being a little… unsocial. So, I told her about how the girl that I’m completely crazy about has a boyfriend! And a long term one at that, too! And then Owen came up with a brilliant plan, and I guess you know what it was. Now, I’m realizing that it might not have worked.”

She stares at him for a moment, before she bursts out laughing. Charlie throws her a confused look.

“You – you thought that Shahid – Shahid, my best friend since we were in nappies, Shahid who is married to this amazing man, and at whose wedding I was the maid of honour – you thought that I was dating him?”

“He’s gay?!”

“Bisexual. Oh my god, I have to tell him. This is hilarious.”

Charlie bites the corner of his lower lip, feeling his cheeks heat up. “This is really embarrassing. But you two act like you’re dating!”

“No, we don’t. You’re just being insecure and jealous. I’ve known him forever, and yes, I am the most comfortable around him. Because he’s my family. He’s my brother. Oh, god, I can’t believe that you were jealous of him – wait, have you thought that we were dating this whole time?”

“Kind of. I thought you guys broke up when he didn’t visit you on set during the first two months of production.”

“He was helping feed kids in Somali.”

“Oh. Oh. God, I feel so –”

“Dumb? That’s because you are.”

He grins sheepishly, his cheeks crimson.

Y/N smiles. “But I forgive you. And I wouldn’t mind if you took me on a proper date this time.”

“Deal. Also, promise that we’ll always talk it out before… you know… doing anything?”

She laughs, and nods. He wraps his pinkie finger around hers.

“Well, Owen’s plan did kind of work, though.”

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

It is I, here to Officially Request™ absolutely chaos All Named Characters Molina Family Board Game Night because honestly? The chaos needs to be freed.

THERE'S SO MUCH CHAOS I'M NOT SORRY.

Have the official sequel to this fic because when @screamin-amuseum requested the first part as "the whole gang + boardgame" I took that to mean All Named Characters playing board games and so here's that continuation. It's so unnecessarily long. It's so unnecessarily angsty??? TW for mentions of Trevor with an eating disorder, nothing graphic though.

I don't know what else to say. This is really chaotic. I can't write scenes with more than two people in them and yet this fic has 13. Hope you all enjoy.

Read on ao3 here:

--

Unfortunately, the Molinas’ extensive board game collection does not actually include Pretty Pretty Princess (it was just a tad bit before Julie’s time).

But on the bright side, she knows someone they can borrow it from. Even if Luke’s not happy about it.

“Why’d you have to invite him?” he complains the second Julie gets off the phone with Nick.

“Because—” Julie barely spares Luke a glance as she passes him on the way to the living room. “We’re borrowing his little sister’s board game.”

“So? That doesn’t mean he has to play it with us!”

Julie rolls her eyes. “Luke, are you seriously still jealous of him?”

Luke lets out an indignant squawk. “I am not jealous . I just don’t like him!” He poofs out and back in again to cut Julie off in the doorway, and she stops out of instinct, never quite sure these days if she’ll end up walking through the boys or into them. “Julie, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re talking about a kid who was literally possessed by Caleb five minutes ago. And you want us to hang out with him? You want to bring him into your house? Where you live? To play Pretty Pretty Princess? ”

Julie gives him the most exasperated look she can muster, trying to ignore the smile threatening to tug at her lips. “Luke. First of all, Nick’s already been to my house, so that argument is invalid. Second, he’s not possessed by Caleb anymore, and the fact that he used to be is only more reason for us to offer him some extra friendship, I’m sure he needs it. And third, I already invited him, he’s on his way, and not even your pouting and puppy dog eyes can change that, so don’t even bother trying.”

Of course, Luke immediately breaks out the pout and the puppy dog eyes, but Julie doesn’t let herself so much as look at him. She pushes past him and continues through to the kitchen, shaking her head in amusement as Luke’s annoyed grumbling fades out behind her.

Her dad’s at the kitchen counter, just hanging up his own phone. He turns when Julie enters and offers her a small smile. “Takeout’s on its way. And your tía’s coming, with her own set of dice, so be prepared for those to be loaded.”

Julie giggles. “Well, I called Flynn and they’re gonna bring some sodas and snacks, and Nick’s bringing Pretty Pretty Princess since the boys were so excited to play it. It’s still cool that he comes, too, right?”

“Of course, mija.” Her dad looks at her for a second, and then away, busies himself with wiping down the perfectly-clean counter. “Did you, uh… Did you maybe want to invite Carrie to join us?”

Julie sighs. “Dad, you know me and Carrie aren’t friends anymore.”

“No, yeah, I know.” He scrubs harder at an invisible speck of dirt. “I just thought it might be a nice gesture.”

Despite everything, Julie finds herself considering it. Sure, she and Carrie are still decidedly not friends , but… they’re not quite enemies anymore, either. It’s hard to be enemies with someone who helped you save your shared ex-love interest from an evil jazz-singing magician ghost. Carrie knows about the guys now and didn’t expose Julie and the Phantoms as a fraud, and she hasn’t been as actively mean to Julie and Flynn at school the past few months.

Maybe someday, the three of them will be able to reconcile, officially. Julie might even want to. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to have Carrie in her house so soon, doesn’t mean she wants to include Carrie in their first family game night without her mom.

“Maybe another time,” she says, offering her dad a soft smile so he knows she means it.

He smiles back, and there’s more relief and happiness in his eyes than Julie would’ve expected under the circumstances, leaving Julie to wonder why her dad would care about her relationship with Carrie Wilson so much.

An hour later, everything’s all set up, and all the guests—ghost and human alike—have arrived. They’re all spread out across the various couches and floor space in Julie’s living room, all ten of them—Julie, her dad, Carlos, Tía Victoria, Luke, Alex, Reggie, Willie, Flynn, and Nick. The four ghosts are all sharing one couch, the four Molinas another, while Flynn and Nick lounge on the floor across the room because the ghosts still make Nick a little uncomfortable (though Julie’s unsure if that’s because of his stint with Caleb or because Luke won’t stop glaring at him).

Knowing Game Night, the seating arrangements won’t stay as they are for long, as the various games require space or privacy or the occasional team-up. Julie’s certain by the end of the night, her friends and family will all be mingling and getting along.

Since there are so many of them, they can’t follow the usual Game Night rules—everyone picks one game and they play through them all. If they tried, they’d be here all night, and half of them have to go to school tomorrow. So instead, the plan is this: Everyone’s name will go in a hat. Whoever wins each game picks a name out of the hat, and that person gets to pick the next game. They’ll play a total of five, or until midnight, whichever comes first.

The only caveat to this strategy is that they’re playing Pretty Pretty Princess first, and since that was technically Alex’s choice, his name’s not going in the hat (a fact Alex seems perfectly fine with).

Game Number One isn’t nearly as much of a disaster as Julie kind of expected it to be. It’s only a four player game, so they play in teams of two and three: Luke, Reggie, and Julie playing for the purple jewelry; Alex, Willie, and Flynn playing for the pink; Nick and Carlos for green; and Dad and Tía for blue. The only fight that breaks out is when Luke takes the black ring on purpose and then refuses to put it back the next turn; otherwise, the teams work together surprisingly well.

Somehow, despite Reggie’s earlier insistence that Alex is a PPP master, the adults win, and then they insist on splitting their winning jewelry between them even though it’s all sized to fit five-year-olds.

Just as Dad and Tía are celebrating their victory, and Julie and Carlos are having a telepathic brother-sister conversation about how their aunt must have rigged it, the doorbell rings.

“Ooh, I bet that’s the pizza,” Dad says, hauling himself to his feet. He keeps one hand on the tiny plastic crown on his head so it doesn’t fall off.

He looks ridiculous, between the crown, the singular clip-on earring, and the ring just barely stuck on the end of his pinky finger, but Julie manages to hold back her laughter as she stands and says, “I’ll help carry.”

Her dad beats her to the door, only because Reggie holds her back and tries to convince her not to let Luke have any pizza (to which Luke gives another indignant squawk and immediately starts bickering), so by the time Julie catches up with him, Dad’s already got the front door thrown open, and whatever’s on the porch to greet him has left him staring, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and pale.

Like he’s seen a ghost or something.

“Dad?” Julie starts to say, but the word dies in her throat as she steps into view of the open door and sees none other than Carrie Wilson standing on her front porch.

Carrie looks nervous, and just as pale, as she stares back at Julie’s father, a clutch purse held in her white-knuckled hands.

Carrie says something, quietly enough that Julie thinks she might have imagined it, that sounds suspiciously like, “Hi, Papi,” and then her gaze flits behind him to Julie and her eyes widen. She clears her throat, straightens her shoulders, says louder, “Mr. Molina. Julie.”

“Hi, Carrie,” Dad says after a weirdly long pause, startling like he’s been struck. “What are—I didn’t—” He breaks off and glances at Julie over his shoulder, his expression screaming, I thought you weren’t going to invite her!

I didn’t! Julie shoots back, then trains a painfully plastic smile on her definitely-not-a-friend-but-not-quite-an-enemy. “Carrie, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry to interrupt, I—didn’t realize you had company…” She glances toward the driveway next to the house, where Nick parked his car. “I can leave.”

“No, don’t—It’s okay,” Dad assures her, a little too quickly for Julie’s liking. “What’s—did you need something?”

Carrie shifts her weight awkwardly from foot to foot, looking back and forth between Julie and her dad like she wants to ask Julie to give them some privacy. Julie just plants her feet and crosses her arms over her chest. Like hell is she gonna leave Carrie alone with her dad when he’s already acting weird and she still has yet to tell them what she’s doing there.

Julie doesn’t even remember the last time Carrie Wilson stepped foot on the Molinas’ property. It’s all too weird, like Julie’s stepped out of Family Game Night and into some strange, confusing alternate universe.

“Um… Okay, so, Dad and I were at this dumb charity event at Schaefer’s, and on the way back, our car broke down.” Carrie waves a vague hand toward the street. “Gerald—our driver—called someone, but Dad doesn’t trust mechanics, and I think it’s supposed to storm later, so…” She trails off, blushes, and adds, “We were only a block or so away so I thought…”

Julie’s not sure she’s following. Her dad must catch up quicker because he says, “Oh! Oh, well—well, you’re welcome to wait out the storm here, we’ve got food coming, we’re having a little game night. Why don’t you join us?”

He turns to look at Julie, almost as an afterthought, his gaze somehow pleading and apologetic at the same time.

Whatever frustration Julie might feel at his eagerness to let Carrie interfere with their lives despite knowing how Julie feels about her is quickly snuffed out by the look on her dad’s face, and the equally anxious look on Carrie’s.

Julie doesn’t like this. She doesn’t think putting her, Flynn, Nick, and Carrie in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She really doesn’t think putting Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Trevor Wilson in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She can think of very few scenarios in which this whole night doesn’t turn into a complete and total disaster.

But reconciliation has to start somewhere, and she does, deep down, want to be Carrie’s friend again someday, wants even more to help her boys get their bandmate back.

She takes a slow, deep breath, prays she won’t regret this, and says, “Of course, Carrie. Come join us for Game Night.”

Carrie visibly relaxes, something like a real, genuine smile fluttering around her lips. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll, um—I’ll go get Dad. He wanted to wait in the car, in case you guys… turned us away…”

Awkward silence falls, and Julie can’t understand why her dad looks so sad all of a sudden, but before she can think of how to ask, Carrie spins on her high heels and starts back down the porch steps.

The second the door closes behind her, Dad says, “I’m sorry, did I overstep?”

Julie sighs. Her dad’s always been particularly good with boundaries. And she thinks part of him might miss the days when Carrie was over more often than not, playing dolls and singing with Julie and Flynn. So Julie can’t be mad. “No, it’s okay. But you get to tell the guys the pizza’s not here yet, and the guy who stole all their songs is.”

His eyes widen in horror, only adding to the absurdity of his bejeweled look, and Julie stifles another laugh as she heads back to the living room.

All things considered, it’s not nearly as much of a trainwreck as Julie thought it might be. Flynn loudly declares that she will not be on a team with Carrie under any circumstances, and the guys don’t take the Trevor news well , exactly, but a sharp look from Julie and a badly whispered promise from Willie to do some serious ghost pranking later keep them from actively pitching a fit about it.

When the Wilsons and their driver Gerald arrive, the tension in the room grows so instantly thick and awkward that Julie’s worried someone might actually explode. Carrie breaks it by stalking confidently into the room and plopping herself on the floor between Nick and Carlos like she belongs there. Gerald soon follows, claiming a chair next to Tía Victoria, and smiles politely at them all.

Only Trevor remains hovering in the doorway, pale and shaky, taking deep meditative breaths as his eyes rove across each person one at a time, lingering a little too long on Julie’s aunt, skipping over Luke entirely. Finally, he swallows, winces like it hurts, and says to Julie’s dad, “I didn’t realize you still did these.”

Julie frowns, unsure what that’s supposed to mean exactly, but her dad offers up no explanation, just waves Trevor over to sit on the couch with him. Luke lays a gentle hand on Julie’s knee, leans in close to whisper, “Hey. You okay?”

She gives him a grateful smile, nods. “Fine. How about you?”

Luke shrugs, glances over at Trevor, who’s still very purposefully not looking in their direction, and winks at Julie. “Let’s just cream this guy, shall we?”

And so, Game Night continues.

The three new guests’ names get added to the hat, and Victoria shuffles them around before pulling a slip of paper out.

“Carrie,” she reads. “You get to pick the next game.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Carrie tries. “I just got here, someone else can pick.”

“Come on, Care,” Nick says, nudging her encouragingly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Your name came out of the hat,” Julie agrees, attempting a smile. It’s the closest she can get to a peace offering. “Pick a game.”

Carrie scans her face a moment, like she’s searching for any hint that Julie’s being mean or ingenuine. She must not find any, because she says, “Okay,” and gets to her feet, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. She peers into the game cabinet for a total of about five seconds before she says, “Oh my god, you still have Monopoly with the credit card readers? We are definitely playing that.”

“Dibs on banker!” Carlos shouts and jumps to his feet to dig the box out of the cabinet.

Julie grins at her little brother’s enthusiasm, and when she catches Carrie’s eye, her smile doesn’t fade.

Maybe they can do this. It’s as good a first step toward reconciliation as any, she supposes.

The pizza arrives while Carrie and Carlos are setting up the Monopoly board, so Julie and her dad bring it in and set up the stack of boxes on the kitchen island for easy access. The ghosts immediately descend on the food like a pack of rabid animals, Luke grabbing four or five slices at once and starting to stuff them in his mouth before Julie shouts, “Plates, boys! Plates!” and he deflates, grinning bashfully at her.

Once everyone who wants pizza has gotten some (Gerald takes a slice, Trevor and Carrie don’t—Julie remembers vaguely that the Wilsons were never big fans of take-out in general), they work out new teams, which leads to less bloodshed than Julie expected but takes way longer than it has any right to. Finally, they figure out a breakdown that everyone’s more or less happy with, despite now having an uneven number of players: Trevor, Gerald, Dad, and Tía; Carlos, Luke, and Reggie; Alex, Willie, and Flynn; and Carrie, Nick, and Julie.

It’s a chaotic game for sure, but no one outright attacks each other, so Julie counts it as a success. And her team wins, so.

The rest of the night goes like that, one game after another. Julie picks Willie’s name, Willie picks Mario Kart, Carlos wins. Carlos picks Gerald’s name, Gerald picks poker (“Oh my god, my driver’s a gambler,” Trevor sighs into his hands), and somehow Flynn smokes them all. For the last game, Flynn picks Luke’s name, Luke picks Candy Land because he’s actually eight years old, and Flynn and Carrie manage to eke out a victory despite being on the same team and bickering the entire game.

Luke and Trevor, also on the same team, don’t say a single word to each other, but Julie doesn’t miss how a smile tugs at Luke’s lips when Trevor makes a joke about Lord Licorice looking like their high school English teacher.

Gerald gets a call just as they’re finishing up and informs them that the broken down limo’s been towed away and one of his colleagues is there with a fresh car to take the Wilsons home.

“Perfect timing,” Dad says, clapping his hands together. “I’ll walk you out.”

Once they’re gone, Nick and Flynn soon follow. Julie thanks Nick profusely for letting them borrow his sister’s game and convinces him to take some of the leftover pizza home to his family. Tía kisses them all goodnight (including the ghosts, which leaves Reggie grinning and the rest of them bright red), and then she’s out the door too, and Carlos heads up to bed, and Willie poofs out, telling Alex they’ll catch him later, leaving just Julie alone with her Phantoms.

“That was actually really fun,” she says, leaning back into the couch.

“Next time, I think we should choose teams at the beginning and stick with them all night,” Luke suggests, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “More fun that way.”

Alex plops onto the couch on Luke’s other side. “But if we play Pretty Pretty Princess again, I’m not playing on your team, bro.”

“Yeah, man,” Reggie agrees, snuggling up under Julie’s arm. “We coulda won that game if you’d just put the black ring away. ”

“It made me look awesome!” Luke insists.

“And the purple one didn’t?”

Alex lets out a dramatic sigh as Luke and Reggie break into an argument over Julie’s head. She just rolls her eyes and tries not to giggle too audibly, though it’s hard when her boys are so lovingly silly.

When she looks up, her dad’s lingering in the doorway, watching the four of them and playing a little nervously with his hands.

Julie frowns, catches his gaze, and mouths, You okay?

He nods, smiles, but looks from her to the three ghost boys cuddled up next to her and back again. Julie instantly catches his meaning.

“Hey, guys,” she says, loud enough to be heard over Luke and Reggie’s bickering. They shut up right away. “I’m gonna help my dad clean up. Can you go wait in the studio for me, and we can rehearse a bit before I go to bed?”

“Oh, yeah,” the boys say, and “Yeah, sure, Julie,” and they all hug her and wave goodnight to her dad before disappearing with a gentle displacement of air.

Julie gets to her feet as her dad joins her in the living room. He sets his phone on top of the game cabinet and plays a Celia Cruz album her mom liked.

They work in companionable silence for a while, other than the music, counting all the cards and tokens and jewelry pieces to make sure everything’s accounted for and gets back into its proper box.

As Julie’s wrapping up the Mario Kart controllers, her dad says casually, “You have fun tonight?”

“Yeah,” she says, and finds she means it. “Yeah, you know, it wasn’t quite the same as playing with Mom, but I still had a really good time. Thanks for letting everyone come over.”

“Thank you for being such a good sport about Carrie. I know she wasn’t exactly part of your plan for how the night would go.”

“No,” Julie agrees, shutting the game cabinet. “But I kinda liked having her here. Although—can I ask you something?”

Dad grabs his phone to pause the music. “Of course, mija. What is it?”

Something’s been nagging at her all evening, but now that Julie actually has the opportunity to ask about it, she’s not quite sure how to put her question into words.

Finally, she manages, “When Mr. Wilson first got here, he said something like… like he didn’t know we still had game nights. But I don’t remember him ever playing with us when Mom was alive.”

Her dad doesn’t answer for a really long time. Julie knows him well enough to know she needs not be concerned—her dad, much more than her mom, has always needed to really take his time and think before he says anything, especially anything important. Finally, he sighs and says, “Honestly, mija… I’m not quite sure what to say. It’s not really my story to tell.” He sits on one of the couches and pats the cushion next to him. Julie joins him, hugging a throw pillow as she waits patiently for him to continue.

“Do you remember, when you were really little, Trevor and Carrie used to live with us?”

Julie’s mouth drops open. “What? No. When?”

“Only until you were about six,” Dad explains. “But for a while, we had a house together, the five and then six of us, once Carlos was born. Your mom and I, and Trevor, we all kind of raised you kids together.” He elbows her teasingly. “You used to call Trevor Daddy.”

“I definitely don’t remember that,” Julie says, eyes wide in horror.

His smile fades, face turning serious. “I think Carrie does,” he says softly, and Julie remembers when Carrie first got here tonight, how she called Julie’s dad Papi , so quietly Julie thought she’d imagined it.

“Anyway,” he continues, “before all that, before Trevor was even… Trevor … he lived with your mom and me, and he was going through a really rough time, had a lot of trouble with food because, well…”

“Because food killed his best friends…” Julie realizes.

“We used to play board games with him, after dinner, when things were hard. It kept him distracted, made it easier to keep things down. That was the real start of Molina Family Game Night.”

“Huh,” Julie breathes. “Well then, next time? I want to invite him and Carrie for real.”

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @apples-bees @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

Maybe Luke/Bobby, #28 “feeling for each other in the dark”?

hi anon my beloved. this is 1300 words of.... who knows what. ao3 link in the reblogs if you'd rather read that way!

you're my darling (i'm on standby) | lukebobby | 1.3k

When a noise stirs Bobby from his sleep, he blinks his heavy eyelids and stares into… at first, nothing at all.

Then, he tilts his head with a soft groan, feeling the stiffness in his neck, and sees the moonlight pouring in through the studio windows, strips of blue-silver in the otherwise pitch-black room. From the angle of the moon, it must be late. Maybe past midnight. He’s cold, despite the fact that he’s curled under the blanket that usually sits folded over the back of the couch.

“Who’s there?” says a cautious voice, explaining why he was woken up in the first place. It’s not unusual for one of the boys to turn up in the middle of the night, to get away from home, for somewhere safe to sleep. It makes sense that Luke isn’t sure who the shape in the dark on the couch could be. “Reg? Is that you?”

“S’ just me,” Bobby replies, and his own voice comes out raspy and groggy, the words scrambled somewhat by the yawn that escapes alongside them.

Luke sounds almost relieved. Which is weird, since Luke is usually more than happy to see Reggie. “Oh, hey, man. What’re you doing out here?”

Bobby rolls onto his back and cringes; he’s really messed up his neck curling up to the corner of the couch-bed like this. The shadows obscure Luke from his view; he can hear vaguely where Luke must be standing each time he talks, but despite trying to focus his eyes, he can’t see him in the dark. “I live here, dumbass. What are you doing here?”

To be fair, Bobby doesn’t technically live in the studio. He’s supposed to live in the house just up the driveway. The big, empty house with too many rooms. Where the space echoes. Where the ceiling feels too far away for him to possibly be safe, and warm. But anyway.

“Uh. I just thought I’d -- I dunno.” Luke is hesitant and talkative and stammering at once. Things Bobby hates to hear in him. Luke should always get to be a little overconfident, a great lyricist, comfortable performing; not small and trying to make himself smaller. “I got my grades back tonight, and -- and trying to talk to my mom about my report card just sucked, and -- it’s okay if you want me to leave.”

Bobby rolls his eyes even though he knows Luke can’t see him. Maybe because he knows Luke can’t see him, so it won’t hurt Luke’s feelings, even by accident. It sucks that things are so tough with his mom, and Bobby knows how much it’s been bothering Luke, along with his loss of enthusiasm for school. Bobby would never admit it, but it makes his chest ache a little, to think of Luke so frustrated so much of the time.

Again, Luke doesn’t deserve to be that way; he deserves to be upbeat, finding the fun in everything, like Bobby knows him at his best right before a gig when nothing in the world can bring him down. At least Luke feels how he feels; that the studio is a safe place, a sanctuary. Somewhere that feels accepting and like home, when other places feel judgemental or disappointed or empty.

He doesn’t say any of that. Instead he just says, “Christ, Luke. You’re not that much of a dumbass, right? Get over here.”

Luke doesn’t reply, but Bobby can hear him moving around. The clink of his belt buckle, the way he quietly curses as he almost trips over getting out of his jeans, because Luke always sleeps in his boxers, hates the feeling of waking up in jeans the next day. Bobby feels the couch dip when Luke sits on the edge of it, then the double thud of his shoes hitting the ground.

Then they’re both reaching around, fumbling; Bobby’s hand comes into contact with Luke’s elbow, and Luke flinches, then laughs, but not like something’s funny, more like he’s still a little too wired to be touched without expecting it. He mumbles, “Sorry, dude,” and reaches out again, and this time, they’re able to grab each other’s hands so Bobby can pull Luke down into the blanket.

When they’re lying down again, Bobby catches himself, realises he’s still holding Luke’s hand, and lets go, hopefully not so fast it seems like it burned him, but maybe a little hurried. Just because Luke and the others are more okay with touching than any other friends Bobby’s ever had (in fact, he’s pretty sure they’re the only friends Bobby’s ever had who were okay with it at all), doesn’t mean he should push his luck.

Whatever the case, Luke doesn’t seem to notice, too busy wriggling under the blanket and relaxing with a sigh. He’s a few inches from Bobby. Still, Bobby can’t see him in the dark, but he can feel how close Luke is, the heat radiating off him, the way the rise and fall of his breath moves the blanket on Bobby, too. Luke’s so warm. Bobby knows this -- they all know this -- but it still brings a relief to the ice in his stomach that he’s trying to ignore.

Ideally, Luke being here, his physical proximity, wouldn’t affect Bobby at all, not even to be comforting, reassuring. Ideally, Bobby would be immune to all these things, just like he’d be immune to the eerie silence of his parent’s empty house, and equally immune to the sense of life and home imbued in the studio by the boys and their presence over time.

For a moment it’s quiet. Bobby breathes. He tries not to be too aware of Luke, the incline and dip where he’s lying on the couch, the sound of Luke’s breathing.

Luke squirms around, like he’s not comfortable, like he’s repositioning. Then he lies still for another moment. Then he moves again.

“Luke,” Bobby grunts, turning his face to press it against the pillows on the couch, “cut it out.”

“Sorry,” Luke says, but it sounds petulant rather than apologetic, shuffling a bit more. “I just… I --”

Bobby sighs. As if he hasn’t known what Luke has wanted all along. But he can’t start offering it all the time, or Luke will start to expect it. Or worse, he’ll start to think it’s because Bobby wants it, too. “Come here.”

Again, it’s a scrambling of not knowing where the other is, limbs tangled with limbs, but Bobby manages to tuck Luke under his chin, to let Luke fling an arm and a leg over him. To pillow Luke’s cheek on his muscle between his shoulder and his chest.

Luke’s so warm, and he’s touching Bobby everywhere. It’s the best feeling in the world, which Luke absolutely can’t know. “There,” Bobby huffs, like he’s resentful, when he’s anything but. “Better?”

Luke nods, his fluffy hair rubbing against Bobby’s jaw. And he seems to mean it; besides the absent rub of his hand up and down Bobby’s side, from his waist to his ribs and back, he doesn’t seem to be full of so much restless energy anymore, and his breaths come easier, less conspicuous in the quiet. “Thanks, Bobby,” he whispers, but he doesn’t sound like he’s doubting his welcome like he did before, and that’s all Bobby could ask for.

Well, that and Luke’s warmth, his company, the way he traces a little pattern on Bobby’s side like Bobby’s worth touching. He doesn’t tell Luke that it’s fine, or that Bobby should be thanking him, actually. Instead, he just mutters, “Can we get some sleep now?”

But even if Luke dozes off pretty quickly, Bobby stays awake a while longer, just to savour the feeling of having him close without the risk of being caught, to savour the relief of not having to face the silent, empty night alone.

[bibybuck]

in a car with a beautiful boy

fandom: 9-1-1

pairing: Buck/Eddie

rating: teen and up

word count: 4.3k words

summary: Buck crashed into his life, brighter than a meteorite, lighting up everything around Eddie. Life suddenly made sense. It made sense before, with Shannon and especially with Christopher, but it’s always been a little bit off-kilter, like someone forgot to remove the lens from the camera. Then Buck happened."

Chris has a birthday party to attend an hour and a half away. Buck volunteers to go with Eddie and by the time they get home, their life will have forever changed.

for @santiagosnart

inspired by and title from the quote below!

[read on ao3]

or under the cut!

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.”

Richard Siken

Christopher has a birthday party in San Jacinto. A fellow kid with CP, one of his best friends he made over the past couple of years. And Eddie is supposed to stay in San Jacinto for the duration of the party, but he has errands to run back home. So he drops Chris off, before heading back the same way a mere ten minutes later.

He’s used to long days, exhaustion and always being on the move. But driving an hour and a half in Los Angeles traffic, after two 12-hour shifts and a 28-hour shift covering for the B team, is just the cherry on the sundae. So while he waits at the bank, he texts Buck.

Eddie

I’m so tired… would I be a bad father if I took Chris to Abuela’s so I can have a good night’s sleep?

Buck

I think that’s what a sane father would do do you still need to head back?

Eddie

yeah in a couple of hours currently at the bank so this will take like five years

After that, Buck goes radio silent. He’s probably fallen asleep and honestly? Eddie doesn’t blame him in the slightest. If he could, Eddie would be in bed, too.

(He’d prefer to be in Buck’s bed, but those are thoughts he won’t think about while queuing at the bank.)

20 minutes later, and after he’s moved up a whole of 2 places in the line, there’s a tap on his shoulder. He thinks maybe it’s an old man wanting to jump the queue and he’s not ready for an argument. But he turns and sees none other than Buck.

“What the hell? What are you doing here?”

“Well I can’t have you drive for 3 hours on your own, can I?”

Eddie’s love for Buck grows immensely after that single sentence, something he didn’t know was possible.

He’s come to terms with the fact that he’s in love with Buck a while ago. At first, it terrified him. The world he knew, the world where he’s straight, turned upside down in the blink of an eye. Buck crashed into his life, brighter than a meteorite, lighting up everything around Eddie. Life suddenly made sense. It made sense before, with Shannon and especially with Christopher, but it’s always been a little bit off-kilter, like someone forgot to remove the lens from the camera.

Then Buck happened. The world straightened (ha!) and Eddie realised the reason it was tilted because there was a part of himself that he didn’t understand. One look at Buck and Eddie knew he was attracted to men as well, even though he didn’t understand how he could go all those years without realising.

It’s been Buck all along. When the world is crazy, when the people are losing their shit, Buck’s there. Like a tether that holds Eddie back from floating away.

So moments like this, when Buck acts kind and selfless, only make Eddie realise how much he loves him. And it doesn’t scare him anymore. It used to; he didn’t want to jeopardise the friendship he has with Buck or the relationship Buck and Chris have. He vowed to protect those, even if it gives him a broken heart. But he knows that sometimes, there’s a love so big, so overpowering that you have to gamble and risk everything, no matter the consequences. He knows that probably they could work things out. They managed to figure out a way past the lawsuit and all the other fights.

“Eddie, the line’s moving,” Buck leans in, whispering in Eddie’s ear. Eddie feels Buck’s hot breath on the side of his neck and hot damn. If they weren’t in a public place, Eddie would be turning to rip Buck’s clothes off, consequences be damned.

“Uh, thanks.”

After another 20 minutes, the bank is sorted. While Eddie talks to the teller, Buck goes to grab coffee for them. They meet back at the car.

“One latte with two pumps of mocha for Edmundo, and one Midnight Mint Mocha Frappuccino for Evan.”

Eddie makes an ‘ew’ face. “Please never call yourself Evan again.”

Buck blushes. “Yeah, it felt weird,” he says quietly, before extending his hand forward. Eddie looks at him confused. “The keys.”

“What, why?”

“Cause I’m driving?”

“Why?”

“Because you went to San Jacinto so technically you’ve been up for longer than I have. Plus, I’m younger.”

Eddie blinks at him and he has to restrain himself from lunging forward and kissing the sweet life out of Buck.

“Rude, but thanks.”

They get in, with Buck driving and pull out into the afternoon traffic. For a couple of minutes, apart from upbeat music Buck chooses, they sit in relative silence, but it’s a silence Eddie’s comfortable in.

“How’d you know where I was?” Eddie asks when they go up to the I-10.

Buck gives him a look as if he’s waiting for the punchline. “I-I-I know you. Besides, you’ve complained so much about other tellers because no one understands you like Elena or what her name does.”

Eddie nods. Yep, now that rings a bell. Still, the fact that Buck remembers something trivial warms his heart.

“Thanks for meeting me.”

“Of course.”

Buck looks at him. He has this faint smile playing on his lips, but when his eyes focus on Eddie, it grows a little wider. His face softens. Then he catches himself, clears his throat and turns his attention back to the traffic.

Eddie wishes Buck kept staring because then his own staring wouldn’t be that out of place. And he wants to keep staring at Buck because he is the most exquisite human being.

God, Eddie is really stupidly in love with this boy.

Their trip to San Jacinto is uneventful. They talk about work, about Chris, about what’s going on in their lives. (Well… Mostly. Eddie doesn’t tell Buck about the most burning thing ever. Not just yet, even though he’s made a promise to himself that one of these days, he’ll tell him.) They talk about Maddie and the baby and just how excited Buck is to be an uncle.

“Do you want kids?” Eddie asks without even thinking, which makes Buck’s ears and cheeks turn crimson red. “You don’t have to answer that, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, uh… Yeah, I think… I mean I don’t…” Buck says, fumbling his way through an answer. “Yeah, I do. I love kids, man. I’ve always wanted to have kids but I just… I guess I haven’t found…” Buck looks at Eddie for a second. His eyes burn their way through Eddie’s soul, but then his gaze is gone. “I guess I need to grow up a bit, first.”

“I mean I’ve seen you with Chris, and man, he loves you.” Eddie needs to shut up and like right now. “You’re great with kids and you’ll be great with your own one day.”

Buck looks at him again, his cheeks still burning. “Yeah?”

“Of course.”

Eddie desperately wants to tell him that when Buck’s not around for whatever reason, Chris asks after him. Sometimes he wants Buck to tell him a bedtime story, or he wants Buck to make him breakfast. But he’s not around then. Eddie wants him to be and by the looks of it, Chris does too. Eddie wants Buck to be around 24/7, he wants him in their space, making it his as well.

They go back to discussing work and the pranks Chim’s been playing on an unsuspecting Bobby. Eddie finds out that Buck’s been helping Chim, which further confirms his Golden Retrieverness.

Buck wants to wait in the car while Eddie gets Chris.

“Don’t be stupid, he’ll be over the moon to see you,” Eddie tells Buck. Buck, still behind the wheel, runs his finger on the dashboard while chewing on his lip. “What?”

“I just…” Buck throws his hand up in the air. “I just don’t want to barge in.”

“What? Why’d you think you’d be barging in?”

“Cause it’s… It’s just…” He sighs.

“Buck, come on. You’ve never hesitated like this.”

They look at each other. Buck, his hands gripping the wheel, tightening his fist around it, knuckles going white. Eddie, outside the car, leaning against the frame, poking his head through the open door. The moment hangs in the air, as if there’s something neither of them wants to talk about or maybe they don’t even know they should be talking about.

“It’s about earlier. It made me realise that… You know what, nevermind, it's stupid. Go, get your son.”

Eddie furrows his brows. He doesn’t understand Buck’s sudden hesitation. He’s always been happy to help out with Chris. He found Carla, he picks Chris up from school when Eddie can’t, even takes him for days out.

So he gets back in the car, slamming the door behind him.

“What’s this about, Buck? Chris wants you here, you know that.”

“I know, it’s just… It’s stupid.”

Eddie turns towards him as much as the tight space lets him. “Go on, spit it out.”

“Fine.” Buck moves in his seat too. “Earlier we were talking about kids and I don’t know, it’s just got to me. You and Chris, you’re a family and… I just don’t see where I fit in the picture.”

“Buck… Come on, don’t say that.” Eddie hesitantly puts his hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Chris loves you. He misses you when you’re not there to help him with the Lego. He sometimes wanders into the garage and asks when you’ll take him skateboarding next. He wants you there. I want you there.”

“I just feel like I’m always crashing the party, like I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“You definitely haven’t.” Eddie gives Buck’s shoulder a squeeze. “We both love it when you’re around. Chris was excited to come to this party but he’ll be happier seeing you.”

Buck looks at Eddie. Seemingly, his eyes are a bit shinier than before. He weakly nods then his usual Buck smile returns. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Inside, there are children running around. Chris is one of them, laughing, playing with the other kids. CP has taken so much away from him but also given him so much. When he sees Eddie, he grins at him, then his eyes land on Buck. He squeals and starts running toward them. He dodges Eddie’s hug and runs straight to Buck. Buck picks him up, giving him a big hug. His and Eddie’s eyes meet and Eddie gives him an ‘I told you so’ look.

“Hey, bud,” Eddie says to his son when it’s his turn to pick him up. “How was the party?”

“It was good! We had cake, we went into the ball pit and we even had cotton candy!”

“Oh wow, sounds like you had a great time!” From the corner of his eyes, he sees a woman waving him over. “I’m gonna talk to Micah’s mom, okay? Stay here with Buck and tell him about that cool dino book we’ve been reading!”

Eddie makes his way over to her, dodging several kids on the way.

“Eddie! Hi!” Lisa says, with her overly enthusiastic voice that he just can’t get used to.

“Hi Lisa, thank you for inviting Chris to the party. He’s had a wonderful time.”

“Oh, of course! Micah keeps talking about him all the time. We should do that sleepover one time like we’ve talked about.”

“Definitely! I think it’d be good for both kids.”

She nods, her eyes wandering over to Chris and Buck. “Oh, who’s he? I haven’t seen him before!”

“It’s Buck, we work together.”

“Do you know if he’s got a special lady friend?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide and he feels his cheeks heating up. Lisa’s not wasting any seconds. “Uh…”

Lisa blinks at him and then it’s her time to blush. “Oh, sorry, is he your boyfriend? I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No, not boyfriend,” Eddie says quickly. Too quickly.

“Really? I mean I was getting… You know what nevermind.” She gives him an apologetic smile.

Eddie really shouldn’t push it. But he does. “You were getting…?”

“I got a vibe from you just now. I have been flirting with you, you know. So have other single moms. I mean… Look at you. But nothing. We thought it was because of your divorce from Shannon, but then you waltzed in here with him…”

“Oh,” is all Eddie can say. This is a very uncomfortable conversation and he’d like to leave.

“I’m just talking silly things, gosh. Look at me, I’m making a fool of myself.”

“No, that’s… I mean you weren’t 100% wrong. There is a vibe.”

“Hmm.” She narrows her eyes. “Well, alright. Glad Chris enjoyed the party! Do let me know about that sleepover.”

“Will do, thanks, Lisa.”

He slowly makes his way back to Buck and Chris. Eddie’s head is full of chaos. He really didn’t realise he was being flirted at. He wasn’t exactly paying attention — he didn’t need to. His mind has been occupied with Buck. And if his pining is so obvious to a stranger who barely saw Eddie and Buck together, how obvious can it be to Chim? To Hen? To Bobby, who seems to know about everything, but never says anything?

How obvious is Eddie’s pining to Buck?

It makes Eddie dizzy. It’s not that he wants to hide it. He doesn’t want to bury it. But Chris has lost so much: his grandparents, his home where he grew up. Then Eddie’s and Shannon’s divorce happened. He can’t even think about giving Chris more heartache. Eddie wasn’t there at first. He doesn’t want Chris to lose Buck.

“You okay?” Buck asks quietly when Eddie sits in a chair next to Chris.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He gives a faint smile to Buck. “Ready to go, bud?”

“I’m tired,” Chris whines.

“I know. Come on, I’ll carry you.” Eddie stands then leans down to pick Chris up, but Chris is not budging. “If you want your bed, you need to move.”

“I want Buck.”

Eddie and Buck share a look. Eddie silently asks him if it’s okay, but Buck is already picking Chris up. Eddie follows them, carrying Chris’s crutches.

If he could pinpoint a moment, where he knew he was so fucking desperately in love with Buck, Eddie would say that this is it. Buck, carrying Chris to the car, holding him like he is the most precious thing ever. Chris has his head on Buck’s shoulder and he’s smiling dreamily because this is just the best conclusion to the perfect day ever. And Eddie is losing his mind because this is the life he wants to have.

So he decides, he’ll tell Buck later tonight. Consequences be damned.

As soon as Buck puts Chris down in the car, Chris is out for the count. Buck puts his seatbelt on and presses a quick kiss on his forehead.

“He really is tired, then,” Buck says. There’s faint redness in his cheeks and Eddie wonders if it’s because Buck is overthinking the fact he’s crossed a line. He hasn’t. “Not even the crazy amount of sugar can keep him awake.”

“No.” Eddie stifles a yawn. “When we’re home, can I get some food into you? That’s the least I can do for coming on this trip.”

“Can we get takeout, though? No offence, but you look like you’re ready to drop dead from exhaustion.”

Eddie nods. Buck really is the most caring person ever. He’s been so good to Chris, yeah, but to Eddie as well. “Sure, let’s go.”

Buck is driving again. Eddie didn’t even have to ask, Buck was already going to sit behind the wheel. He pulls out the parking spot, before heading back towards Los Angeles.

They barely talk for the majority of the road trip. Sometimes they point out idiot drivers or talk about work or life, but there are no big discussions. Sometimes, Buck will drum on the wheel with his fingers, as if he’s trying to say something. But he doesn’t. And Eddie’s deep in thought, writing the perfect speech in his head.

He knows that it probably doesn’t exist. The best he can do is to tell the truth and speak from his heart. He hates how cliche it sounds, but they both deserve some transparency. He’s determined to make this work, no matter what the outcome will be.

“You okay?” Buck asks quietly when they’re only minutes away from home.

“Hm? Yeah, of course. Just tired.”

“Yeah. I think I’ll sleep for the next three days.”

“Mm, sounds like a plan.”

Buck drums on the wheel again. Then a minute later he says, “Sure you okay? Other than the exhaustion.”

Eddie knows that this is it. Buck is probably giving him an opening, but giving his non-existent big speech in the car just feels weird.

“Yeah, why?”

Buck shrugs. “You’re just quiet.”

“Well, you’re not exactly a chatterbox either.”

They look at each other for a second, then Buck laughs quietly. “Right, you’re right. I don’t know, I guess I’m still thinking about that conversation we had earlier.” Buck looks into the rearview mirror, right at Chris who’s still dead asleep in the backseat. “Chris is really lucky to have you. You’re raising a good kid.”

“Well, it’s not all me.”

Buck nods. “Yeah, no, of course, Shannon’s done a good job as well.”

Eddie looks at him and feels that this is it. “I meant you.” Buck turns to look at him in confusion. “Buck, you’ve helped out more times than I can count. You’re there for me and for Chris and we’re just… We’re just so grateful.”

Eddie will forever remember the moments that follow. Silence falls on the car, but it’s a different kind. It’s not one that you’re desperate to fill in with noise, but one that’s serene. There are no words needed and why would they be needed anyway? Eddie knows Buck and Buck knows Eddie, but it goes beyond that. It’s a deep connection, formed by camaraderie, saving each other many times. Formed by friendship, by trust. Formed by love. There’s a quiet understanding between them. Eddie doesn’t know what it is or how it comes to be. It’s just the way they’re looking at each other, the way the moment holds, the atmosphere in the car. But it’s there and it’s so palpable. Everything just suddenly makes sense, even more so than before. The world has not only returned to its normal axis, but it’s now locked in.

Eddie is looking at Buck. He’s never looked away and he doesn’t want to. He feels like this is the first time he sees him: strong jaw, scars that haven’t healed properly, stubble he wants to touch. As if the mist has vanished and Buck is clearly visible now. Raw and beautiful and Eddie’s heart aches.

Buck’s looking right back at him. Buck’s eyes drop for a second, then he slowly extends his hand forwards, hesitantly putting it on Eddie’s which is just resting on his thigh. The callouses on Buck’s hand help to ground Eddie.

Buck smiles shyly and whispers, as if he doesn’t want to break that precious silence, “I love you.”

Eddie’s not jumping up and down. He’s overjoyed to be hearing those words, yeah, but after that moment they just had, he knew that this is happening. He doesn’t know why he knew, but it just made sense as if finally the last puzzle piece made it into its rightful place.

“I love you too.”

There’s faint redness in Buck’s cheeks again. “No, I meant…”

“I did too,” Eddie reassures him, then he’s determined to say those few words first. “I’m in love with you. Evan Buckley. I’ve been in love with you for a very long time.”

He feels so free now, so liberated to be able to say that.

“Oh, Eddie…” Buck’s hand gives Eddie’s a small squeeze. “I love you so fucking much. God, I want to scream it.”

Eddie chuckles. “Maybe don’t, you really don’t want to deal with a grumpy Chris.”

Buck looks at him again, then at Chris, then back at Eddie. “I do. That’s all I want to do forever.”

Buck has to look back at the road if they want to survive this journey, but Eddie wants to keep Buck’s gaze just a little bit longer.

Eddie looks out the window. This isn’t their neighbour, but Buck’s. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going home? I figured you can survive a five-minute drive home.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I can survive five minutes without you. Not now that I can say ‘I love you’ to you.”

“Oh, fuck, Eddie…” Buck reaches over and laces their fingers together. “You’re killing me.”

“Not my goal, but go on, drive us home. My place, this time.”

Ten minutes later (thanks LA traffic), Buck pulls into Eddie’s driveway, just as Chris is waking up.

“Hey, bud, we’re home,” Eddie says, turning around to his son.

“Is Buck staying over?” Chris asks while rubbing his eyes.

“Uh,” Buck says, but Eddie quickly jumps in.

“We’re gonna get some food, you hungry?” To this, Chris just shakes his head. “Alright, shower, teeth, and bed.”

“But daaaad, I’m too tired!”

This time, Eddie will let it slide. “Alright, brush your teeth and bed.”

They all get out, making their way towards the house. Inside, Buck and Eddie go to the kitchen, Chris goes to the bathroom.

“I’m surprised he isn’t jumping on his bed after all that sugar,” Buck says.

“So am I. I guess he had loads of fun in the ball pit.”

Eddie goes to grab two beers. He hands one to Buck. He also doesn’t know why he’s feeling so awkward suddenly. They got over the most difficult part and it was fine. More than fine.

Eddie is about to open his mouth, when Chris yells, “Buck!”

Both Eddie and Buck run to the bathroom. Chris is not there and panic hits Eddie in the chest. But then they look across the hall and see Chris sitting on his bed, already wearing pyjamas.

“Chris, you scared us,” Buck says, dramatically putting his hand over his heart. “I don’t know if I’ll survive this.”

This sends Chris giggling. Eddie walks over to his son and presses a kiss on the top of his head. “You okay, buddy?”

“Dad, can Buck read my bedtime story?”

Eddie looks at Buck. Buck nods and goes to Chris’s bookcase. “What do you want to read?”

Eddie decides to leave Chris and Buck to their own devices. He feels like this is a time just for the two of them. “I’ll order us some food,” he says to Buck quietly.

Before he leaves, he watches Buck climb next to Chris, the book already open in his hand. Buck gives him one last look before he starts reading.

Eddie goes back to the kitchen, quickly ordering some burgers. He orders Chris some as well, knowing full well that he will wake up in about two hours saying that he’s hungry. He always does.

Once it’s done, he leans against the counters, sipping on his beer. Would it be this easy? To have this life? To have Chris and Buck? Because this is what Eddie wants. Today, tomorrow, forever.

What he and Shannon had was good — then it wasn’t. But they had Chris, and he wouldn’t change the past for anything. He doesn’t know what this is. He doesn’t know if it’ll last with Buck. He hopes that it will. He’s learnt from his past mistakes and he’ll put everything into making it work. He wants to keep this going, whatever this may be.

And he knows that if (when) they tell Christopher, that little boy will be over the moon. Chris loves his dad, but he loves Buck just as much. And lucky for Eddie and Chris, Buck loves them.

“He’s out,” Buck says quietly, as he walks into the kitchen. “Took me shorter than expected.”

Eddie doesn’t know where it comes from, but he has an urge to say something. “I know we haven’t had a discussion about us, but… I know how much you love Chris and we love you too. You’re a part of the family and I think you have been for a long time but it took me a minute to catch up. I know this is too soon and I’m not expecting an answer now. We don’t even know if we’ll work out, but if we do, I want you to know that you have the option of becoming Chris’s dad. Officially. ‘Cause, you do act like it and he looks at you as if you were his dad, too. I just want you to know that it’s there for the future.”

Buck freezes for a moment as he processes it, then he lunges forward, kissing Eddie. His hands cup Eddie’s jaw as Eddie puts his fingers in Buck’s hair.

The kiss… It’s passion. It’s anger. It’s lust. It’s desire. It’s need, want, belonging, hope, home. It’s past, present, future. It’s everything. It’s love.

[fleetingpieces]

My One in a Million Chapter 2

Thank you @inloveoknutzy​ for proofreading and support <3 and @lumosinlove​ for your amazing OCs!!

You can read Chapter 1 here

Chapter 2 - Bad habits

“So how’s that new apartment of yours?” Alice asked over the phone. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me sooner, are you already too much of a star for your commoner friends?”

Remus laughed goodheartedly as he sat down on his bed. He’d missed Alice’s voice.

“C’mon, I’m by no means a star. And I would never forget about my best friend, you know that.”

“Ohh good, I finally dethroned Leo?”

“Ok, let me rephrase that. I would never forget about my midget best friend,” Remus corrected and laughed again when Alice cursed at him. “I’m sorry Al, it’s just been a very busy couple of weeks.”

Remus glanced around his room. It looked much more homier now that everything had been unpacked and he’d gotten himself a few paintings and decorations. Everything looked exactly as he’d imagined, and Remus felt a sense of contentment at the image.

He closed his eyes, letting the sun warm up his skin and enjoying the light breeze drifting in through the open balcony door. But when he breathed in, a strong smell of nicotine wafted to his nose.

“Fuck, not again,” Remus groaned, raking a hand over his face with an exasperated sigh.

“What? What’s wrong?” Alice asked.

“My asshole of a neighbour. I swear to god Alice, it’s like he does it on purpose.”

Throwing himself down on the bed, Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried to remind himself that the guy wasn’t technically doing anything wrong at the moment, but this little thing together with everything else was cutting Remus’ patience short.

“Uh oh, are you having trouble already?” 

Remus snorted.

“You could say that.” He focused on breathing in and out before launching on a rant. “I have this beautiful balcony with a view, but I can never leave the door open cause he’s always smoking outside and somehow the smell always gets into my room which is fucking annoying.”

“Well...I guess it could be worse?” Alice said uncertainly after a moment.

“That’s not all. He sometimes leaves the garbage right outside his door for hours. I don’t know what the hell he does at midnight, but I can hear his music at the weirdest hours, and then out of nowhere there are loud screams coming through the walls.”

Alice snorted and Remus rolled his eyes.

“Not that type of screams. Like angry screams?”

As the smell became too much, Remus got up and started walking towards the door.

“And the weirdest thing is, there’s so many people coming in and out from that apartment all the time. Every day. I swear, it’s ridiculous. Is he a drug dealer or something?”

Remus thought about the past week and how confusing it had been, as he’d bumped into a lot of weird, different people.

On Monday, when he was coming back from finally doing grocery shopping, he got into the elevator with a guy with messy hair and glasses. The guy was smiling so much it was a bit weird, but he was nice enough to hold the door for Remus when they were getting off. Remus smiled as well and nodded before going to his apartment and watching as the guy disappeared next door.

On Tuesday, a bloke with red hair was going out just as Remus was coming back home; they exchanged a ‘good afternoon’ and they each went their way.

On Wednesday a tall, dark, handsome stranger smiled and winked at Remus.

Thursday, a woman with red hair and green eyes struck up an animated conversation with him when he was coming back from his morning run. Remus had actually liked her, she seemed very nice and easygoing. He wondered if she was related to the guy he’d seen on Tuesday.

When Friday came around, he’d been slightly wary as he’d stepped out to take Cocoa to the park nearby. Almost as if on cue, he heard a door open and close when he was going to the lift, and soon he was joined by a shorter man with tan skin, a snapback on his head with dark curls slipping out.

He’d had to wonder if it was some sort of silly prank. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Cause every day, for a week, he’d bumped into a different person every time he went out or came back to his apartment.

All of them coming and going from apartment number 12.

Just how many people lived there? He'd casually asked the concierge about it and was surprised when the man said it was just one guy. Someone called Black, whose description matched the one of the first guy he’d met in the building.

Alice’s huffed laugh brought him back to the present as he reached the door and peered outside. And then he felt his breath catch in his throat.

Black was standing on the edge of the balcony closer to Remus’ own, and had his back turned on him. A very tanned, muscular, bare back. Remus cursed under his breath. The guy was only wearing a pair of sweatpants, and was leaning on the rail as he exhaled a plume of smoke. The way the sun reflected beautifully over his skin and dark hair had to be illegal.

“And he’s hot! Really, his back is so sexy it’s unfair!” he said as he closed the door a bit harder than he’d meant to.

Alice cackled on the other end of the line.

“Well Rem, at least you have something to look at,” she teased. “Why don’t you go say something to him?

“I would rather avoid confrontation so early on,” Remus said as he leaned back on the glass panel, ignoring Alice’s first statement. He didn’t want to have his first neighbor fight not even two weeks after moving in. But the guy was just getting on Remus' nerves, and even if he didn’t want to be that neighbour, he knew he would soon need to set some boundaries.

“I’m sorry about that sweetie,” Alice said in a sympathetic tone. Remus hummed in reply. “I hope it didn’t ruin the excitement of moving in.”

“Nah, it’s alright. It would be nice if we could get along, but worse comes to worse I’ll just have a talk and that’s it. We don’t have to be friends or anything,” Remus decided not to mention the issue with his Mum’s painting, otherwise Alice might just show up here to kick the guy’s ass herself. Smiling slightly at the idea of tiny Alice standing up to that guy, Remus glanced at the clock and cursed. “I’m sorry Al, I gotta run or I’ll be late for my first class.”

“Ok, I’ll talk to you later, yeah? Don’t be a stranger!”

“Yeah, yeah, bye Alice!” 

As soon as Remus hung up, he scrambled through his room to grab everything he needed. He stopped only for a minute to fill Cocoa’s bowl and pet him on the head before heading out, thanking the heavens that for once, there wasn’t anyone waiting for him in the hallway.

Remus had been working non stop ever since he’d started gaining popularity online, and took a few days off to adjust to his new living space before he started working at the new studio. Not that he’d completely stopped, what with making and editing videos for the page.

Some students were already waiting when Remus arrived, but he was just in time. For the first time ever he had a fully booked class, and even some people in a waiting list in case any space would free up. Remus was so thrilled, he couldn’t keep a smile from his face.

He looked around when he entered the room where he would be imparting the yoga lesson, and the first thing that caught his eye was a head of flaming hair.

The girl was wearing black leggings and a loose shirt, and Remus recognized her at once from last Thursday. She glanced up, and surprise crossed her face before she broke out in a smile.

"Hello! You're from Sirius' building aren't you? Are you here to take this class as well?"

Remus wasn't sure who Sirius was, but given the fact that she had been to the apartment next door, Remus figured it must be his dear neighbor.

Sirius Black.

Even his name was pretentious.

"Ah, no, I'm actually the new instructor," Remus said, smiling shyly.

"Oh that's great!" the woman beamed. "My friend Natalie recommended your class, said I would not regret it. So, you're Remus?"

Remus nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, pleased to properly meet you um.."

"Lily," she smiled, and Remus couldn't help but return it. It was so easy to talk to her.

Remus moved to start setting up his things while they waited for the last few students to arrive. Lily followed.

"Natalie should be here any minute, she was super excited about this. Apparently, you're pretty famous! I don't pay much attention to social media, so I haven't heard from you before." Lily smiled apologetically, but Remus waved her off.

"Oh that's not true, I'm just a normal guy that happened to have a bit of luck. I do hope you enjoy the class though." He bit his lip, wondering if he should ask the next question or if he would come off as a prying old lady, but then curiosity got the better of him. "What's the deal with all the people in that apartment? Do you all secretly live there?"

A dark look crossed Lily's face, but it was gone in a second and replaced by a small worried frown.

"No, that's just Sirius' home. I'm sorry about all the trouble, I swear it's not always like that,” she said, tugging at a strand of her hair. “Things should calm down soon...I hope."

Remus wasn't sure what that meant, but he knew asking more about it would be too nosy. It was none of his business after all, he just wanted some peace and quiet.

"Oh, I know!” Lily suddenly perked up. “We're throwing a Halloween party at Sirius' in two weeks, why don't you come over? That way you can meet everyone!"

Remus schooled his features carefully to avoid cringing. He didn't particularly like parties, the smell of smoke and alcohol, the inebriated people doing stupid shit, the many mistakes made in the thrill of the moment...yeah, Remus could live without all that crap.

"I don't know, Lily...I don't think I'm invited." And that guy and I don't really get along well, he thought.

But Lily just rolled her eyes.

"I just invited you. That flat is almost like my own home, so Sirius won't mind me inviting someone over, if that's what you are worried about."

Remus busied himself searching his bag for nothing in particular, wondering if Lily and Sirius were dating. They certainly seemed really close to each other, he could tell by the way she said his name; but how could someone as nice as Lily date that ass?

"C'mon, it'll be fun! You can make new friends, and that way it won't be so weird if you bump into any of them in the hallways again."

"I'll think about, ok?" Remus said to appease her, but he knew there was no way he'd be going to that party.

However, the look Lily gave him and the glint in her green eyes told him she wouldn't let him off so easily.

***

Later that night, Remus was sitting by the window of his living room, meditating. He’d gotten into the habit of doing it when he needed to wind down, or when there was too much on his head; and today, after a long day back at teaching, it was a good way for him to relax.

And for once, everything was quiet. No loud music coming through the walls, no people shuffling about all over the building, even the city outside seemed quieter than usual, and Remus basked in the silence that filled his ears as he breathed in deeply.

Or at least he did until he heard a loud whoop that almost made him jump out of his skin. What the hell was that?

A string of muffled words and a loud laugh followed as Remus sat there with a hand over his racing heart, trying to calm down. And even then, with his breathing completely messed up, Remus surprised himself thinking it was the first time he’d heard laughter from next door instead of just shouts, and how oddly familiar it sounded.

“For fucks sake,” he muttered, getting up.

He’d finally had enough. He’d tried to let it be and avoid confrontation, but was it really that hard to be considerate? Did he think he was the only person living here?

Breathing out, Remus made his way through the hall and knocked on the door. There was no response at first, but the noise inside quieted down. Remus waited for a bit before knocking again, a little louder than before. This time there were approaching footsteps on the other side, and he was pretty sure he could hear someone cursing.

Remus was going over his speech in his head, trying to figure out the best way to talk to this person, but as soon as the door opened, all words disappeared from his mind. Actually, every thought in his brain flew out the window as he was met by stormy grey eyes boring into his.

It was the first time he was seeing Black’s face, and why the fuck did he have to be so fucking gorgeous?

He had high cheekbones, and a jaw that was screaming to be kissed; his inky black hair held in a messy bun at the top of his head, with a few strands framing his face. Remus already knew he was fit as hell, but fucking God, those eyes.

Remus’ breath caught in his throat as he took in the slightly surprised look on Black’s face, who was looking him up and down. It was then that Remus realized he was so pissed that he hadn’t even thought about changing out of his yoga tights. His cheeks warmed up, and the thought of blushing in front of this guy annoyed him even more.

He glared at Black, who arched a perfect eyebrow.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” he started, still trying to be polite, “I live next door, and I didn’t want to do this, but could you please keep it down? I’ve been listening to your music all week, and even if you have good taste it’s getting really annoying.”

You have good taste? What the hell was that? Remus chided himself.

Sirius glanced behind him at his apartment with mock surprise.

“There’s no music right now, is there?”

Remus rolled his eyes; he didn’t care how good looking this guy was, or how curious he was about the slight accent in his voice, he was absolutely obnoxious.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause the screaming is so much better,” Remus deadpanned. He thought he saw the corner of Black’s mouth quirk up, but he was still staring Remus down.

“Oh, I was just punishing the gang for not making the drugs faster,” Sirius said, and his mouth moved to the side, like he was biting the inside of his cheek to fight a smile.

Remus' eyes widened.

"Yeah, I'd invite you to come in and have a look, but it might be too hot in here," he continued in a teasing tone. 

"Oh my God, you heard that?" Remus fought the urge to cover his face, which he was sure was beetroot red.

"Just bits and pieces. You were talking pretty loudly," Black said, the amused smile finally appearing on his face. He leaned with a shoulder against the doorframe, looking Remus up and down again. “But hey, I could show you more of my sexy back if you really want to.”

Remus did his best to fight his embarrassment as he squared his shoulders, his expression going hard. How did this guy manage to make him so angry every time?

“I would never want anything to do with a disrespectful, self-centered prick like you." Politeness be damned, he was not going to stand here and let this man make fun of him.

Black's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he regarded Remus with new interest.

"I -"

Some voices came from inside the flat, and Black looked over his shoulder. When he turned back around, he looked Remus straight in the eye with a penetrating gaze.

"I will try to keep it down," and without another word, he closed the door in Remus' nose.

Remus just stood there for a few minutes with his mouth hanging open, absolutely bewildered, before a scowl took over his face. He turned around and marched straight into his apartment, closing the door behind him and taking a few slow breaths to calm himself.

When that proved fruitless for the first time in a very long while, he went straight to his computer and onto Padfoot’s channel. A pleased sigh escaped his lips when he saw that he was going live and clicked the video immediately. Padfoot hadn’t made a new video in a few days, which had been slightly worrying, so Remus was glad to see he was back.

When the video loaded though, Remus frowned. A game was being shown full screen, but the character was just standing there, not doing anything, and the only voices heard were from other players. Padfoot wasn’t there. The live chat was going crazy asking what happened, saying everything seemed fine and then Padfoot had just disappeared.

But a few seconds later Remus, heard a small laugh and a familiar voice talking to the viewers.

“Hey guys, I’m back! I’m so sorry about that, I was just very rudely interrupted. Although I must admit, it was a very interesting interruption. Anyway, let’s crack this thing, I left my partner alone for a long time and we all know he is as useful as a chocolate teapot.”

“I protected your sorry ass while you were away, and that’s the ‘thanks’ I get?” another voice came from the video with mock offense.

“Yeah, yeah, I appreciate your efforts Prongs, but we both know who's the one that gets things done here."

“Oh, yeah? It’s always like this with you, whenever you do something awesome it’s ‘Oh, look at me, I’m amazing’, and whenever you fuck up it’s ‘Oh, we are a team’.”

“That’s how teamwork works!” Padfoot said in his most convincing tone.

Remus laughed at Padfoot’s antics, feeling a lot better than a few minutes before, and started thinking about everything with a cooled head. He would have liked to get along with his neighbors, to have a quiet, happy life, but he could try to ignore him. He didn’t have to see the guy more than was strictly necessary. He wasn’t going to.

[alilbihh]

spring leaves | | pjm

masterlist

pairing: jimin x reader

summary: You wonder if he’ll taste like the sun, even the second time. And you know that's impossible, know the sun isn't quite a tangible thing, that it doesn't have a taste or even a scent at all, but he does. He just does. (or: you’re absolutely screwed the moment you start crushing on your literal husband.)

genre: witch!jimin, witch!reader, arranged marriage au, fluff

words: 11.5k

The first time you meet your husband, you're holding his hand and standing in a rather itchy wedding dress.

The priest officiating you both is talking, you're sure; holy matrimony this and until death that-- rather dramatic, is what you'd say if you were listening-- but you're not. Listening, that is. You probably should be, but your now husband's hands are chubby and small and you're not quite sure who started sweating first, but. Well. Marriage isn't all that it's made up to be, you think.

Even if your husband is pretty.

The thought comes to you later, probably having lingered in the back of your subconscious and waited for the first chance to strike. It strikes when you're drinking juice in a champagne flute, watching the guests dance as if it's their own wedding day. Jimin's dancing with a little girl, couldn't be older than maybe seven or eight, twirling her around just for the dramatics of it as they both giggle, and it's probably the happiest you've seen him all night.

Seokjin says something beside you, and you refocus to catch wind of what he's saying but only catch something about deep sea fishing mid sentence. "That's great, Jinnie." You say just to have something to say.

He raises a brow, "I was literally talking about getting eaten alive by a whale."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He nods, solemnly, as if you hadn't just missed out the first five minutes of his rant. "Imagine. You sit there as he slowly digests you. A tragic fate." Someone passes by with a tray of wine, and Seokjin takes the offered glass with a mumbled thank you, then tosses his head back as if to take one big gulp. He only takes a sip, which you know because Jin's literally the biggest lightweight you know, but you pretend not to notice, anyway.

"Truly tragic."

"Truly." He nod nod nods, "I'd rather sink to the bottom of the sea. Let the algae take me in as one of their own."

The conversation drifts to something about the unspoken rules of common courtesy, and how much eye contact is too much eye contact?-- and you try to laugh and pretend you hadn't just been staring at Jimin.

Jimin, your husband, your mind supplies even though you don't want it to.

Your eyes drift to him, laughing in a group of people. You recognize only a few; Yoongi and his husband Taehyung, both from the winter district. A boy you think is from the autumn district, with doe eyes and chubby cheeks. He grins rather shyly at something and Jimin throws his head back in a laugh.

"Hey," Seokjin says, and your eyes drift to meet his. "I'm happy for you two. I know you'll treat him well." A hand clasps over your shoulder, and you know it's meant to be reassuring, meant to be comforting, but it's like the seventh hand of the night and you feel tired, suddenly. Like your legs are too small to hold up your weight. Like they might buckle at any moment and make you tumble.

But Seokjin can't know that, so you smile and thank him and there's nothing more to say. Because you'd just gotten married to a man you know nothing about, and you're meant to stay married to him for the rest of your life, and you try not to feel too overwhelmed at the thought. Try to save that for tonight, when you're alone.

That time never comes, because as it turns out, you're not alone.

When you walk into your room for the night you see Jimin already there, duvet up to his chest. He scrambles to sit when he hears you walk in, and you look and then really look, and he smiles something a bit crooked. A bit sloppy at the edges.

"Hello." Is the first thing he says, a bit rushed and a bit breathless, and you can't help it. You snort.

"Hello," you greet, shutting the door behind you. "Um." You breathe, "Am I in the wrong room?"

Your husband seems to come to at that, and he flings himself off the bed but doesn't walk any closer. "No, no," He gulps, you think, "It's just. They told me to, uh, let us share. The room, that is. To-- bond. Or something."

You breathe out a laugh but feel equally flustered, "Oh. Okay." You breathe in for five long seconds, hold it for three, and let it out in eight, the way Namjoon taught you to. "Cool, yeah, that's fine."

Except it's-- not fine, not really, but-- but.

It takes a second, but then you're marching forward and crawling under the duvet and then feel Jimin hesitate before doing the same. Your back is facing his, and it's a little weird and a lot awkward but you feel as if there's nothing you can do about it.

It's still your wedding night. Well, not technically, since it's past midnight, but-- you'd gotten married less than 24 hours ago.

You're a kitchen witch and Jimin's a green witch, and his district was in need of a kitchen witch, and it was a marriage of convenience. Politics, or whatever. You don't like the thought of getting bound to someone for the sake of convenience, but it's too late now, so. So.

Right as the silence starts to become too much and you're about to start ascending from the mortal plane, you speak. "You still awake, husband?"

He flinches with his whole body. Something about the casual husband, probably. Definitely. Too soon.

For a second you think he won't say anything but then he does, curled in small on the bed, "Yeah."

"Hm." You hum. Silence. "So what's your favorite... color?"

You think you hear a little laugh, and it makes you crack a smile. "Really?" He says, just the tiniest bit amused.

"It's all I got, sorry." You drawl out a hum, as if to think, then say, "Okay, so, uh.. your favorite animal? Favorite food? Your M&M color of choice?"

He smiles a little. "They all taste the same, though."

"Nonsense. Red is superior." He doesn't answer but doesn't seem to be debating about it, either, so you say, "Just say any color."

"Yellow, then."

"Okay no, anything but that."

"What's wrong with the yellow M&M?"

"Everything! It looks like it's hiding something."

Jimin snorts. You take it as victory enough.

It takes a second and then the silence is loud again. What would a green witch like? Think, think, think-- "Oh! Favorite flower!"

When you turn around, your nose brushes over his. You hadn't felt him turn around.

Jimin shuffles back, and you don't take it to heart. "I like camellias." He says after a moment, as if to just throw something out, then reconsiders and says, "Snowdrops. I like snowdrops. They're stubborn little flowers."

He doesn't elaborate for one second, then two, then when it seems like the silence dragged on for too long he says, "Even in harsh weather, they always bloom."

You don’t know much.

You don't know much, but you know this-- Jimin's left ear is pierced three times along the lobe, and when his nose scrunches, his eyes curve into half moons. There's a little bump on his nose. He's a green witch and, like most green witches do, seems to love flowers. Might actually prefer the yellow M&M.

He holds people's hands gently, like someone who has a lot of love in his heart.

"That's nice," you say when the silence drags on for half a second too long, "That's really nice, Jimin."

He smiles, and it's something you'd seen him do before, but it seems different this time. Less rough around the edges. Like the tension in his muscles relaxed just the slightest bit, so small you hadn't even noticed it until it wasn't there. It's not a lot, but it's something.

"Okay, so. Pisces."

He blinks, then-- "Libra."

You gasp, "What! That doesn't make sense! You're too," you say, but pause. Give him a once-over. "Well actually, maybe."

"I didn't ask to be born in october!" He says, indignant, almost, and things seem just a little more okay.

Things are not okay.

Because when you wake up that morning, the bed is empty and you hear barely muffled cries from the bathroom.

Now, the polite thing would be to ignore it, maybe. But you're a firm believer that people that are crying shouldn't be alone unless they ask for it. That maybe just someone being in the room helps.

You hover by the door, make enough noise to make your presence known, and hear when Jimin gasps and says, "Shit, sorry, come in-- ah, shit."

When you push open the door, you find Jimin slumped over the toilet seat lid. He's quick to look away, brush away his tears, continue to mutter a mantra of curse words. His eyes are red rimmed and kind of puffy.

You step in closer, sit on the floor next to him.

You don't push, but he looks at you like he expects you to. You hum after a second, just to remind him you're there, you're listening, you want to know more, if he's willing to tell.

A sniffle, then-- "I couldn't figure out the shower."

You don't say anything. The floor is cold and probably gross but you keep sitting there anyway. You're not here for your comfort.

"I'm sorry." Jimin murmurs.

"Don't be sorry."

"No, it's just," he laughs hoarsely. "Everything is weird right now, but you're--" You hear him breathe out shakily, "You're nice. And everyone has.. mostly nice things to say about you."

"Who did you talk to? It was Jin, wasn't it?" You continue at Jimin's silence, "I knew it! Whatever he said please be aware I'm not associated with him."

"It wasn't Seokjin-ssi!" He says but it sounds hesitant. At your looks he continues guiltily, "I swore an oath, you have to pretend you believe me."

You laugh quietly. His lips wobble like he's holding back either a laugh or maybe a strangled sob.

There's a wad of toilet paper on the bathroom counter you think looks snotty and Jimin looks so impossibly lost. You want to give him a hug but that's weird so you don't.

"Do you want to talk about it more?"

He's frowning. "It’s nothing, everything just feels like, like a lot," Jimin exhales, "Like, I've never been in a relationship, a-and now I'm married? It just feels,"

"Different." You nod.

"Different!" He agrees and turns to you, and it's just then you realize it's the first time he's really looked at you.

"I get it. If there's one person that gets it, it's me." You chuckle but it comes out awkwardly. Jimin stares.

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I hadn't even considered that." He's frowning, but he's not crying and you take that as a good sign. That maybe things won’t be as bad.

"It's fine," you say offhandedly.

"It's not though! I was being unfair to you."

You shake your head, "S'okay. There's a lot going on. You're forgiven." You stand up, brush off your pants, and say, "Let's figure out this shower."

There's faded eye liner over his eyes and cheeks. After you both manage the shower, you grab some make up removers from your bag and place it on the bathroom counter, just where he can see it, and can only hope he does.

It's only a little while later that you're both picked up.

You'd dressed up a little nicer; a nice sweater that bunches up at the shoulders, fixed your hair in the mirror, coordinated your socks. You probably look more put together than you actually are.

Jimin's mother is all smiles and bunched up cheeks and laughter lines. Her hand is warm when she places it over yours, says please take care of my Jiminie, shortly followed by a wink and a cheeky no canoodling in the backseat!

Except there's-- there's no conversation, (much less canoodling), even as you're both sitting next to each other in the car. The only time you see Jimin really move is when he coos at a herd of cows and occasionally shuffles as if uncomfortable. You don't think he likes driving, but you're too scared to ask.

When you arrive you're left to stand and gape at your new home, gape at the vines crawling over the building, the walls made of untrimmed bushes and the dandelions growing between the cracks in the concrete. You're left to stare and gape and ache at the change, at how much you miss home already.

Jimin recovers more quickly, dragging his suitcase behind him as he walks inside. You watch from the sidelines as he greets and hugs each staff member that comes into view, as if they're long lost friends, as though they won't leave you two alone just after you both get settled in.

A staff member finds you admiring a painting that stretches out long, brushing a hand over the ridges of the long dried paint. They say their apologies quick, of not having seen you before and whatnot-- but you can't blame them. You would have been entranced with Jimin, too.

Then your bags are being whisked away and you're left standing alone in the middle of the living room-- your living room. You're left wondering and standing and struck with the thought of wowowow-- this is your home. This is your home for possibly the rest of your life.

You want to ask Jimin what he thinks of all this.

If he's just as overwhelmed as you are.

But when you walk inside your shared bedroom, his suitcase is sitting in the corner and everything seems untouched. Not a trace of comfort or familiarity.

Then, on the nearby desk, sits your make up remover, a post-it note underneath in pretty handwriting that says a simple thank you.

When Seokjin visits, it's with a Kim Namjoon blinking owlishly from behind him.

"I brought a little friend," Seokjin gestures to the giant, who's still very much looking at you as if you're a ghost. "I had to climb the mountain and all! Totally not worth it, let me tell you!"

Namjoon ignores Seokjin in favor of clasping both your shoulders and shaking you aggressively, "You got married?"

Then you're nearly knocked off your feet when another voice emerges with a booming, "The little shit really got married!"

You try to look at Seokjin in mock betrayal, but your breath is being cut off short and the life is being squeezed out of you, so it's practically impossible.

"Get off me you heathens, I can't breathe." Namjoon releases you, but Hoseok's arms stay wrapped around you from behind, and you sigh. Pat his arm fondly.

Hoseok lets you go in favor of handing you a self proclaimed marriage gift basket. There are some essential oils and neroli bath bombs and soaps he probably made himself. You dig deeper and find an apple and a single grape.

"The grape was Seokjin's idea." Namjoon clarifies.

You flick the grape over Seokjin's head just as he starts saying I would do no such thing--!

It's only later that they bring it up again, Namjoon resting his head on a tree from the garden as Hoseok stays cross legged across from him, sipping his tea. Namjoon's patting the tree, saying something soft to it, and you think you hear the wind sigh almost wistfully. Hoseok likes to call it the Namjoon Effect.

"So. Park Y/n, huh?" Hoseok says cheekily.

"Shut up," you say but there's no bite to it.

"Can't believe you got married. They grow up so fast," Namjoon pretends to wipe away a tear, and you slap lightly at his shoulder with a strangled cry.

"You weren't even at the wedding, you don't get to say that!"

"They sent us to the mountains, how were we supposed to know?"

"Well if you really loved me, you'd find a way to be there," you pretend to sniffle, catch Hoseok taking a long and rather dramatic drag of his tea.

"Stop acting like Jin-hyung, we only need one of him." Hoseok says. You can almost hear Seokjin's indignant screech from somewhere inside, even though it's physically impossible for him to have heard you.

Then Namjoon asks when you'll introduce them to your husband and it then begins a mantra of a series of drawn out do it, do it, do it's that sound more like a demonic summoning than anything convincing, but you get up and try to look for Jimin anyway.

You find your husband in question tucked in small on the desk of your shared bedroom, cheek pressed to a book about flower anatomy but all his post-it notes have are scrawled words and doodles of opossums.

You smile lightly to yourself and drape a blanket over his shoulders, run a hand through his fringe and watch it flop back down with a little laugh. Brush a loose eyelash off his cheek softly.

When you walk out, the three that had invaded your home are sprawled over the couch and Hoseok is looking at you too knowingly for your liking. Seokjin offers you the wine he'd been drinking despite it being 1 in the afternoon, and shrugs when you turn him down quickly.

"Where is he? How’d it go?" Hoseok asks, and when you reply with a shut up, it's too weak for your liking and he laughs. You feel heat rush to your cheeks.

Then when Jimin surfaces not twenty minutes later, you think he looks flustered, too.

The next few weeks go by in a blur.

Every day goes by the same as the last: you go to sleep with your back pressed to Jimin's, and wake up alone. Sometimes his side is cold and sometimes it's not. Sometimes you catch Jimin baking bread in the morning, trimming the bushes and cutting the stems of the roses.

And that would be fine if not for the fact that Jimin has been doing pretty much the same things as you except for the potion-making, but he always seems to be doing them in a different time and in a different place and honestly, you just want to go back to the time you'd talked about your favorite M&M colors.

The only time you truly talk to him are the polite hellos he offers in the morning, when it still feels like you're walking through murky water, eyes still droopy with sleep.

Today you wake up with the sun, roughly 7 AM, maybe. You turn and Jimin's side is empty and you decide that's the last straw.

When you get up, shuffle, shuffle, shuffling because no one deserves to be awake at this hour, you catch him in the garden.

"Hello?" you say, and it comes out as more of a question. The man is hunched over a rosebush, as if to tend to the roses, but they look to be halfway dead and you think you'd heard him talking to them before you arrived.

The thought that you're intruding tugs at your subconscious, and maybe it's a silly thought since he was talking to a rosebush, but-- but. You can't help but feel like maybe the roses make better conversation than you do.

Jimin cranes his neck to look at you, and his cheeks are flushed. There's a streak of dirt on his cheek, somehow, and when he peels off his gloves, there's dirt stuck under his nails, too. You try not to let the fondness show on your face, because it's weird to feel endeared by a stranger, no matter how cute the stranger might be. No matter if that stranger is your husband.

"Hello," he blinks. "What're you doing here?" He says, not cruelly. You tug at your shirt anyway, suddenly nervous.

Not everyone feels nervous to talk to their husband. Not everyone has a husband that avoids them, either, but-- well. Maybe it's time you change that.

You get stuck between saying a too-casual hey and a too-formal hello and end up with a too-eager "Heyo!" and a piece of you kinda dies on the spot. "I was just, like, passing by, you know? I was going through the garden and all." Looking for you is what you don't say, and you can only hope it doesn't show on your face.

"Right," he says, clearing his throat.

There's silence until you crouch beside him, piping up quietly, "So what're we doing?"

"We?" He smiles lightly, then turns back to the roses, "We're cutting off the stems."

"What for?" You frown, "For them to die even more?"

"Y/n!" He says, scandalized, almost, "Don't say that, you'll offend them."

"Why would plants be offended." You deadpan but feel a vine tickle your ankle, as if to curl around your leg and tug you down to the floor.

"Great, now the roses won't like me," he glares halfheartedly before turning back to the roses in question, murmuring softly, "Don't listen, I'm not associated with this person."

"What!" You yell, thoroughly offended, but then he does something incredible. Something so mind boggling your tongue suddenly feels ten times too heavy in your mouth as you watch, stunned.

He does a full body giggle. Oh no.

You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until Jimin smiles at you and your chest rearranges itself into something that actually resembles the human anatomy. You tug absently at a loose thread on your sleeve.

"Do you have any mugwort around?" You find yourself asking.

His eyes widen with something akin to curiosity, but he doesn't ask what you'd need it for. "I think I saw some over by the hyacinths," Jimin says as if you'd possibly know where those are, and he smiles when the confusion doesn’t leave your eyes. "I'll take you there."

He stands, then, and he's-- quite small. Strangely, you hadn't noticed this before, mostly because he doesn't really seem like a small man. Even now, he looks larger than life.

(In truth, mugwort helps you sleep a bit better. Doesn't quite make a concoction, it's not nearly strong enough for that, but just a little bit of it stuffed under your pillow is enough. Some bundles of hyssop stashed between the sofa cushions. A few water-based sigils drawn into the corners of the room.)

(The room that doesn't quite feel like yours, but-- Maybe it will be.)

When you wake up that day, it's to Seokjin waving a spatula around in your kitchen.

You think he sees the question in your eyes, because he huffs as if you've personally offended him. "What! What's wrong with visiting my dear friends?"

And you'd accept it at just that, if Seokjin weren't the Head Councilor for your district. For all the districts, actually.

He flips a pancake flawlessly and you watch it sizzle in silence. He doesn't ask how you've been doing, because he must already see it-- the plants are still halfway dead; the greenhouse still adjusting to Jimin, maybe. You haven't been making any real potions, and while spring might be six months away, there's been no progress. No progress at all.

And it aches a bit, because before Seokjin became the Head Councilor, he was your friend, and you really don't want to disappoint him.

(Don't really want to disappoint Jimin, either, but-- But.)

"Have you two seen the town yet?" Seokjin asks, squeezing what could only be considered too much syrup onto his pancake. He's sitting at the head of the table because "only those elder and wise deserve the position," apparently, and you and Jimin are sitting opposite each other. You don't think of how this is the first time you're having breakfast with your husband.

"No," Jimin answers for you, and you most definitely do not think of how the syrup made his too big lips look sticky and pretty. "We've been, uh. Busy."

"Yeah, busy." You nod nod nod, and you think Seokjin looks at you questioningly but you're shoving the equivalent of three forkfuls of pancake into your mouth to avoid speaking any more.

Jimin drinks tea with his pancakes, with three sugars and too much milk and some crushed sage. You raise a brow when he mixes the leaves in, and he hides behind the rim of the cup when he raises it to his lips, tips of his ears a bit pink.

"It's a dietary supplement for digestion!" Jimin says defensively when you don't stop staring at him. "Don't look at me like that!"

You keep looking at him just to tease but find that you can't look away. You need to stare at something that's not him because every time you make eye contact you feel a bit twitchy.

Seokjin suddenly speaks through a mouthful of pancakes, "So I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here," He says, ignores your muttered not really, then continues with, "I wanted you to hear it in person. The rumors are true. I am to be wed on summer's eve. Hudreds of guests, of whom I will know three."

"Truly tragic for your partner, then." You sip and ignore Seokjin's indignant squawk.

"Jimin-ssi!" A clatter resounds where Seokjin slams his fork on the table, "I am having a passionate love affair with your partner. I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but it's my only regret. What have you offered me, Y/n? Nothing. I barely remember our time together."

For a second you're kind of appalled that he'd say this in front of your actual husband, then in another you wonder when Jin will mature past the point of sticking his tongue out at people as an insult. Then realize it's your favorite thing about him, and hope it isn't any time soon.

"Revolting," you say as you attempt to pull off your most disgusted face and find that it's not that difficult, given the situation, "I'm sorry, Jimin-ah. I just couldn't resist Seokjin's sexy goblin bod."

"Slander!" Seokjin goes on a tangent and says something about how Helen of Troy doesn't have shit on me, and Jimin is giggling so hard he nearly catapults off his chair and you are. Not endeared. No. Definitely not endeared for your husband.

You never do find out why Seokjin spontaneously visits again. But you sit there and watch as he fills the silence before the silence even begins, see how he tries to make you and Jimin talk and you think you know why.

You're suddenly so immensely grateful for your friends that your heart swells and turns to mush and you feel so much less alone than when you'd first gotten married.

Then Seokjin bails when it's time to do the dishes and you take it all back.

You talk to Jimin again when you're supposed to be sleeping and he's writing a letter in the dark. A candle you think smells like vanilla floats just above him, dripping wax onto the floor but it's okay. They wouldn't burn anything, you trust them.

"Do you like it here?" You ask before he jumps in his seat, and you try not to laugh.

You watch, cheek pressed to the duvet, as Jimin stands and delicately places the envelope on the windowsill, as if he's writing a love letter to the moon.

You think he won't reply. He does.

"Yeah." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. Moonlight trickles through the glass, makes his skin shine pale pink and honey gold. The candle floats down to eye level, and the thought that he's beautiful comes to you seconds before he blows the fire out. "I think I do."

The last part is whispered, makes you wonder what he sounds like when he sings.

You dream of your wedding, that night.

The priest officiating you is talking, saying something in a low voice, and you think the crowd is straining to hear. You don't know what he's saying until Jimin says a quiet "I do" that stuns you down to your bones.

You don't know what you were expecting. Maybe a part of you thought he'd say no and run down the aisle. Maybe a sudden slam of a door and a loud "I object!" with an accusatory finger pointed your direction.

(None of that happens of course, and when Jimin kisses you it's chaste and sweet, tastes a lot like chapstick. Like new beginnings.

Maybe faintly, even, of the sun.)

It takes another week for you to actually take Seokjin's advice and visit the town, and it only really happens after Jimin had been making halfhearted comments over breakfast that there's barely any sugar to mix into his tea.

So you visit the town. It's surreal, almost; the thought that this is someone's hometown, that this someone knows every back road and every street vendor and every stray cat, but you're just someone passing by.

You pass by screaming children and laughing couples and when a granny who sells silks by the riverside sees Jimin, she greets him like she'd known him her whole life. When she sees you, she smiles almost knowingly, and you don't know what to make of that.

It's oddly welcoming. You like this, these tightly knit communities where everyone is simultaneously a stranger yet knows everything about each other. Makes you wonder if you can be a part of it, too.

"Do you like walking?" Jimin asks you just when you realize that everything smells like baked bread. Just to make conversation, probably, but you appreciate it anyway.

"Not really," you grimace exaggeratedly, "I prefer driving. You get places faster."

"Obviously." He snorts. This conversation is getting nowhere fast.

"And if you're driving for a really long time, you can just pull over somewhere whenever you want and get, like, ice cream or something, and the world becomes a better place," you continue.

"But you just sit still for so long," he frowns.

"Ice cream, though."

It's only when he finally turns to look at you that you realize he's barely looked at you at all. "Ice cream doesn't help my ass." He deadpans.

Jimin sticks his tongue out. His tongue. Out! At you. How unkind.

"I want a divorce." You say, flabbergasted.

Jimin punches your shoulder lightly as you laugh, then says, "Too bad, you're stuck with me forever." His voice barely even wobbles.

"I'm glad." You smile. You're joking but you're not, want him to know you're serious. "I'm glad it's you I'm stuck with, then."

He looks away, but you think his ears are pink.

When you get home, it's to the moon peeking through the clouds, bags of bread in your and Jimin's hands. Banana bread, pumpkin bread, blueberry bread, pink and red breads that are apparently edible and magical and leave you feeling cloudy and floaty.

Jimin leaves a bowl of sugar water on the windowsill to surprise the butterflies in the morning, says they've been warming up to him. The hyacinths, too. Even the poppies have started flirting with him and everything.

It feels like everything is slotting into place, you think. Like you've been handed a new puzzle with a thousand pieces too many, and you know they all fit somewhere and you're in the process of figuring it out.

(Maybe you and Jimin are those pieces.)

It's quiet in breakfast. It's not an unwelcome quiet, not like in the beginning, when Jimin could barely look you in the eye. Now you talk about the weather and the appropriate amount of sugar to mix into coffee and the old man from the coffee shop in town that said his name so quickly Jimin didn't catch it and had to pretend he knew it for the rest of the conversation.

Now you know things beyond what's superficial. Now you know he loves strawberry tarts but doesn't like strawberries. Now you know he's Team Jacob. Now you know he had thick square glasses around his junior year of training that made him look so much like a nerd that you busted a lung and laughed for six straight minutes.

You think that's enough for you to approach him and say, "Wanna walk through the forest with me?"

Jimin looks surprised. Maybe not in a bad way. Maybe his smile just might be genuine when he replies with a resolute absolutely not.

Apparently the forest is cold and dark and scary, but Jimin goes with you anyway.

The woods are nice. When you strain your ears you think you can hear something call for you, and if you stand very still you can feel your heart beat in sync with something, something alive.

Okay, so maybe the woods are a bit cold and dark and scary, but you know better than to be afraid. If you are, it'll turn against you.

"Don't step on beetles, that's bad luck. That and you'll never get rid of them." You warn, watch as Jimin instantly jumps in place and stares at the ground warily.

"Okay, yeah, that makes me feel better," he says with a grimace, and you laugh.

There's no real reason for you to want to walk through the woods besides sudden curiosity, but Jimin indulges you. Lets you trail a hand down the bark of a tree and try to befriend the rabbits and pick some blueberries from the bushes.

There's a sharp gasp when you promptly shove one in your mouth.

"Y/n! That's-- unsanitary! You don't know where that's been!"

Blueberry juice trails down your chin. You don't even want to imagine what you look like, but for whatever reason you can't seem to bring yourself to care. Think of how it's just Jimin you're with. Maybe that means something. Maybe it means he's never made you feel unwanted for being yourself.

"S'fine, what's the worst that could happen?" You pick another one, halfheartedly clean it with your shirt, then throw it in the air with an attempt to catch it. It bounces off your nose, and Jimin laughs so hard he snorts twice through his nose.

When you walk back home, it's with a smile and a blue stain on your shirt and dirty shorts, and when you look over you think you catch Jimin smiling, too.

The first time you meet Taehyung, it's two months after the wedding.

He's a big friend of Jimin's, and apparently Taehyung likes to call himself Jimin's soulmate. Jimin just laughs and never corrects him and it makes you feel soft all over.

So Taehyung's visiting again today. When you walk through the door, placing your muddy sneakers by the shoe rack, Taehyung is already there, reading something on the couch. You think it's poetry.

You've only spoken to him a handful of times, maybe, but when he sees you he grins and casts an invisible fishing rod and pretends to reel you in. You indulge him and pretend to be reeled. It's all very dramatic.

You're maybe too far to begin genuine conversation but Taehyung starts speaking anyway, "Y/n, hello! It's been so long!" It's been two days. You don't correct him.

"Hi, Taehyung." He deems you've been reeled close enough and nods to himself. His skin is tanned honey and gold, his cheeks and nose a bit red, like he's been in the sun a lot. If you didn't already know that he's a green witch from Jimin, you think you'd know by this alone.

"Hello, hello," The man's already standing up, patting your head like you hadn't just met him all of two days ago, "C'mon, I got some strawberries from the forest. I thought the forest would be scary but it looks like it warmed up to you and Jimin already so it let me in nicely."

In truth, it took various compass potions for you to not get lost, and then several days for you to have warmed up to the woods around your house, but it's fine. Jimin goes through it in his morning runs now. Sometimes the light shines through the trees just right to guide you through, and sometimes you get a bad feeling about a certain path, like something is trying to steer you away from what's waiting in the end of it.

But the woods are safe. A comfort.

"That's good! That's good. Especially since you'll probably be visiting a lot," you chuckle.

"Definitely! I'm sorry to say this, but where Jiminie goes, I follow. I'm the physical manifestation of his own inner demons."

"An interesting way to phrase it."

"Indeed." Taehyung hums, cutting up the strawberries neatly. He's swaying his hips to the silence. Sway, sway, sway.

Taehyung sets the strawberries aside and there's a sudden clatter of bowls and pans, the man picking apart your fridge as he hums something soft under his breath. The silence feels heavy in a pleasant way, like the walls are straining to hear his gentle singing.

"How long have you known him?" You ask curiously as he hands you a potato. You're not explicitly told what to do with it, but you start peeling it when he keeps looking at you expectantly. He hums, satisfied.

"Since diapers!" He grins, boyish and boxy, chops up the onions in messy bits and pieces. "There's no one that knows him better than me, his mom and maybe the government."

You laugh and Taehyung continues making his mysterious concoction.

Jimin walks in around an hour later to a mess in the kitchen, and he promptly screeches in impressive falsetto when he sees you and Taehyung, and Taehyung laughs for three solid minutes.

(The mysterious concoction, you learn, is soup, judging by the way Taehyung hands Jimin a bowl and promptly says, "Soup!"

Jimin looks at it for four solid seconds and says, "Well this is certainly something to wake up to."

"Me and Y/n made it just the way you taught me to!" Taehyung grins and takes a hold of your hand despite only having met you properly around three days ago.

"I just cut some potatoes," you frown. You're promptly ignored by Taehyung, but Jimin pats your head in gratitude. You're warm.

"I bet it's shit," Jimin says, but he's smiling so hard that you don't think he means it.

Taehyung smiles back. "I bet it's shit, too."

When Taehyung leaves, he ruffles your hair and slaps Jimin's butt even as Jimin laughs and shoos him off, and you decide that you're happy. Happy that Jimin's happy, too.)

You dream of your wedding night again, except this time, you dream beyond just the chapstick and the new beginnings. You dream again of his hand curving around your waist to pull you closer, the delicate way he says I do, a song made of only two words.

He tastes like the sun even the second time, and you know that's impossible, know the sun isn't quite a tangible thing, that it doesn't have a taste or even a scent at all-- but he does. He just does.

You wake up with your stomach lurching down down down until it's a melted puddle by your feet, a new ache of longing so deep it melts you down to your bones.

The clock blinks 4:37 am. It's early enough for Jimin to not have left the bed for his morning run yet, and when you turn, his face is so close you can see each individual eyelash and trace every blemish until it forms a constellation.

You peel yourself off of bed and head for the gardens, pass by the dream catcher hanging by the door and give it a little dangle. Pass by the birdhouse draped over the ledge of a tree and wonder if it was always painted pink.

You head for the middle of the greenhouse, see remnants of Jimin in every flower and every tree and every potted lemon lime dracaena draped over the ceiling. You lie down, sprawled over the dirt, the nearby snowdrops leaning over as if to comfort, and you think--

You don't know much. You don't know much, but you know this: people may reject you, but if you lie on the floor for long enough, the moss and the fungi will accept you as one of their own.

(You sit there for so long that when you wake it's to the morning sun and wind chimes and a worried Jimin ushering you up, up, all worried and sullen. But there's this: the birds are singing in their pink birdhouses and there's a natural breeze as the man laces your fingers together and drags you home, as if the world is telling you to breathe.

It almost smells like spring.)

When you walk to the greenhouse the next day, a tray of tea and orange slices in both your hands, Jimin's planting strawberries by a corner, gently patting at the humid soil.

His hair is a little loose and windblown, and there are daisies and twigs in the knots. There are bruises and scratches all over his legs, as if he'd been on wild adventures and has no concept of his own physicality.

Jimin grins when he sees you, openly and unabashedly, slipping off his gloves as he stands with grass stains on his clothes, and you ache down to your bones. You say he looks like a child gremlin, and he laughs.

You're a witch, practically made of magic, but you think there's a certain magic in the mundane, too. Vibrant greenery and sunlight and orange slices and honeyed tea.

"Should we visit the town again?" Jimin says through a mouthful of his slice, his lips tinted orange, almost.

"Yeah," you mutter softly, "that would be nice."

So you promise to visit the town again, maybe grab some fresh linen sheets and warm lattes and walk through the river bank, dip your toes in the water.

It's raining outside, you notice. Just a bit, just a drizzle, more witch weather than anything. Where everything is a little foggy and makes you feel a little floaty, like you're longing for something that doesn't exist.

The thought that you need some rainwater crosses your mind, maybe for a non visibility spell of some sort.

Jimin finds you like that, head tipped to the sky, mason jar raised in the air like an offering of some sort, steadily filling with rainwater. He says something but you don't hear it, like your head is dipped halfway underwater.

You feel a warmth on your wrist, look up to see Jimin already looking down at you, both of you soaked to the bone. "You're an idiot, you know that?" You think he's supposed to sound angry but he looks too happy. Too fond.

Jimin leads you back inside and struggles with the door for a bit, laughs when the water drips from his shoes onto the wooden floor. The boy pulls you deeper into the house. You don't remember when he'd taken your hand.

"Stay here, I'll go get us a towel." Then he leaves you to stand in the middle of the living room floor. He seems to notice this, because it doesn't take him three steps for him to turn back around to stand there with you.

"Um." You say just to have something to say. "This is awkward." It's not. It's actually very nice, wet socks and all. Maybe it's the way he's staring at you, cheeks crinkled at the edges. Makes you feel very seen. Makes you wonder when he'd started staring at you like this.

"Yeah." He agrees mindlessly, a hand trailing from your shoulder down to your wrist. He hesitates on taking your hand. Takes it anyway, laces your fingers. You feel warm down to your bones, even when he quickly lets go. "I'll, uh-- I'll go, now."

Then when he comes back with maybe three towels too many, you're sticking a post-it note to your mason jar and writing rainwater in sharpie for you to not mix it with, say, neroli bath water. Moon water. A love potion.

A towel is dumped over your head, and when you turn Jimin's already ruffling his own towel through his hair. It's disheveled when he stops, fluffed up like a baby chick. He's wearing sweatpants now, with a band shirt that looks to be three sizes too big on him.

"Can I dry your hair?" Jimin says then sounds surprised that he's said it, as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

So Jimin dries your hair after you change into clothes you hadn't just walked into the rain with, and he continues even as you pour your rainwater into the cauldron, drizzle some crushed acorns inside. Your husband watches you work, hands you the jars you point at whenever you ask.

"What's this?" Jimin asks as he hands you the mason jar on the top shelf. It only has PN+ML written in sharpie which, in retrospect, can actually be confusing for whoever didn't write it.

"It's just a mixture of pine needles and maple leaves. Actually, maybe some adder's fork will be better.." You trail off, then shrug and add some maple leaves anyway. You stir counter-clockwise and Jimin just blinks when bubbles start popping sluggishly in the cauldron.

"I'm glad I'm not a kitchen witch." Jimin says, grimaces at a jar that says wool of bat. Which are really just holly leaves, but you're not about to tell him that.

Jimin's humming softly behind you as he brushes a hand over a flower on the table centerpiece, then starts picking at a sticker of one of the oranges.

You spend the drawn-out afternoon doing nothing and everything. Jimin finds a box of crayons in a drawer somewhere and draws frogs on post-it notes that he sticks to the fridge, along with reminders to buy more bread. He puts on a movie with the weirdest plot he can find that ends up not being too bad.

You fall asleep with your head pressed to Jimin's chest, the man running a hand through your hair, murmuring something soft that you don't catch. You drift off to the thought that this is probably the closest you've ever been.

You pat at the bedsheets out of habit. It's empty but still warm, still messy, and it's too dark outside for Jimin to have left already.

When you peel yourself out of bed, Jimin's sitting on the couch knitting a scarf. He keeps saying it's for Taehyung even though the scarf is actually close to being seven feet long and there's no way anyone will be able to wear it. It's a tangle of greens and pinks, two of Taehyung's favorite colors that aren't complementary at all but you think he'd make it work.

The look in Jimin's eyes and the window outside is enough to tell you it's roughly 3AM. It's 3AM and Jimin is knitting a seven feet long ugly scarf and there's an empty box of ramen on the coffee table.

A notebook is open on his lap with stick figures and plant doodles on the corners. There's a coffee ring stain on the paper but he doesn't look too upset about it, looks to be drawing a sun out of it.

He looks up at you, smiles something a bit too soft. Too early for that. "Good morning."

A hum. "Good morning?" You say with a bit of an edge. You both stare at each other in a moment of silent understanding.

You stand there for a moment too long until he pats the spot next to him on the couch. You take that as invitation enough and plop yourself down next to him.

You're not close to each other enough for your legs to touch, but when he slumps his shoulder brushes over yours. "What're you doing?" You ask, because you're already here and it's 3AM and you think you can afford to be straightforward.

Jimin looks up at you. Looks back down at his knitted monstrosity. "My best."

You snort. "You okay?"

Your husband grimaces and looks like he wants to say something and is debating on whether he should say it or not. Ends up saying-- "No."

"Did something happen?" You're swinging your legs so far they touch the edge of the couch. You probably look like a child but when Jimin looks down he smiles something that looks a little less like he's tipping over an edge.

"Rough day, rough week. Rough-- couple of weeks." He shrugs, "It's just a thing on my mind. S'dumb."

"I'm sure it's not dumb," you lay a hand on his knee and it's supposed to be comforting but you think you feel goosebumps on his skin. You pull back quick and he doesn't stop you. "Your feelings aren't dumb."

He doesn't say anything for a bit. He's frowning and you think it's a bit unfair to think of how cute he looks while doing it.

You swallow. "Can I stay?"

"Yes," he says too quickly, backtracks with pink cheeks, "I mean-- yes, please. I don't like being alone when I'm sad."

"You're sad?" You didn't need to ask but you do anyway.

"M'not, but I am. Is that weird? It sounds weird. I'm not making sense right now."

"That's fine, you're fine." You rifle through everything you know about Jimin and try to decide whether you should push or not. Decide that maybe it's okay. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Maybe one day." Jimin smiles and you don't know what he means by that but you smile back anyway.

Silence again. Jimin reaches for his abandoned noodles, takes a halfhearted bite and grimaces, then promptly sets it back down. You snort.

"Do you wanna go back to sleep?" You murmur. You think you can feel the exhaustion become something a little less tiring and a little more soft.

"I don't think I'll be able to."

"I can hold your hand." You say but it feels like you've stepped on maybe ten red lines too many, so you backtrack and say, "Or something. If you want. Forget it."

You feel your heart contort into something ugly, but when you look up at him through your lashes, he's smiling. Says, "I accept, then. Cuddles for companionship."

"No four syllable words until the sun's up." You say, and he giggles.

Jimin is singing when you drag him back to bed, his voice fading softly into sleep. There are weird breaks in his voice and you can't place the tune nor can you make sense of what he's saying, but he keeps going with a yawn and a Busan drawl.

(Jimin's voice is pretty and his sleepy blinks are pretty and the boy is just pretty, pretty, pretty.)

Everything feels sleepy and tender and it's probably too early to have revelations, but you feel as it happens anyway. It feels less like something squeezing at your heart and more like it's cradling it.

Is it really a revelation? It feels softer. Less like something new and more like something old.

Jimin's song trails into nothing. You peer up at Jimin just as his eyes twitch with dreams, and it's-- a bad angle.

He's beautiful.

"I think I love you." You whisper.

You sleep.

When you wake, there's a hand fisted in your shirt and Jimin's muttering something in his sleep that you don't catch. The sheets aren't empty, and there's a streak of gold through the blinds and onto his cheek. You wonder what it would feel like to kiss Jimin a second time. You wonder if he smiles into his kisses.

"Okay, tell me what's happening." Seokjin says, lightly patting your head where it's pressed to his shoulder. You sigh for the umpteenth time today.

The glass vials are clinking around in your bag, and you'd wanted to give them to Jimin to test on the camellias, but-- you can't do that anymore, not really.

You sigh again. "If you sigh one more time I'm calling my lawyer."

"You don't have a lawyer though?" You say, and it comes out as more of a question.

Seokjin pulls you closer so that he's smothering your face with his chest. "I said what I said."

You jam your fingers into his armpit until he screams and rolls away and you can breathe again.

"Seriously, though," Seokjin says as he makes himself comfortable on the couch. His head's on the armrest and he swings his legs so they're resting over your lap. You threaten to push them away and he ignores you. "Do I need to give you the Self Love Speech?"

"No." You deadpan. Seokjin gives you a second, as if to reconsider, and sighs when you don't.

"You never visit me though, and you look mopey."

"I do not." You say but you probably kind of do. You try to make yourself look more relaxed but it's too late.

"Don't give me sass, I'm serious here!" He says but his hands are gentle when he links your fingers together. Makes you feel very seen. "Did something happen with Jimin?"

Nothing new, you think but don't say. Nothing new, because it doesn't feel new, feels more like something that's left forgotten until it's time to be remembered. You think of the times when Jimin adjusts your shirt collar for you, when he's mumbling in the morning all slurred and heavy with dialect because he's tired, when he's back from the gardens all dirty and sweaty but grinning as he says Y/n look what I found, Y/n look what I did, Y/n come see, come look, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.

Little moments that make you think shit, I love him, and the universe tries to compensate for the acknowledgement, for the slip, spins a half-beat faster. You tuck those moments away, hidden in your veins and in the empty spaces of your heart.

“S’nothing.” You say, then grab Seokjin’s hand and place it on your head, “Now pat my head until the nothing goes away.”

So Seokjin pats your head and doesn’t pry and if you let how sad you feel slip and show on your expression he doesn’t comment on it, and you’re grateful.

You're halfway through a love potion when Jimin walks inside, swinging a bag around to catch your attention. You nearly drop the dragon feather you'd been trying to dissolve when the man whoops loudly in your ear.

"I brought you food! The halmeoni from the store gave me a discount," he giggles as he sets the bag onto the kitchen island, turns towards you expectantly.

You sigh, pressing a hand to your heart, "Jimin-ah, marry me," you implore dramatically, already making grabby hands in his direction.

He snorts, "We're literally already married," he hums, lets himself be pulled towards you with a laugh, then says, "What're you making?"

You're about to explain, but he's already leaning towards your bottled concoction and taking a whiff. You almost laugh, but then he's scrunching his nose and sniffing again and then says, incredibly--

"Are you brewing your own perfume?"

And really, it's-- not that far fetched of a theory. The bottles scattered around your cauldron look a bit like perfume bottles, maybe. Except, except--

Except you're making a love potion. It's not an actual love potion, not the love potion one would imagine when the term came up, because love can't really be manipulated, only artificially. But every witch, kitchen witch or not, knows that a love potion just serves to make you feel a bit fuzzy, a bit lighter on your feet.

And that it smells like the one you love the most.

"Huh?" is all you manage to say.

"Yeah. Like-- burning embers and forest air and an underlying tone of like, rosemary or something."

When you don't say anything, only staring at him wide eyed with a muttered holy shit, he chuckles almost nervously, "You'd think I told you that you smell bad or something, what is it?"

You don't say anything for a few more moments, and when you look down at your potion, it's clear and transparent and almost looks like water, if not for the way it were bubbling sluggishly. When you breathe in, it smells like freshly picked daisies and sun warmed oranges and something boyish, something that just might be Jimin.

"Yeah," you breathe, "Perfume. That's, uh, exactly what I'm doing."

"No reason to be embarrassed, it's kinda endearing." He claps you on the back encouragingly, and his hand doesn't linger. It feels like it might linger. It hovers a bit, as if he caught himself before it could linger.

"Uh. Yeah." You say, then mutter another holy shit, while you're at it.

You kind of wish you were a weather witch to summon a lightning bolt to strike you where you're standing.

He’s about to walk away and you grab his hand. He turns.

Your tongue feels tied in a knot, just like your stomach. For something that seems so simple and straight-forward, it still feels like if you take one wrong step everything will be ruined.

You're in the process of counting his eyelashes when he says, "Yes?"

You breathe breathe breathe and try to say something but nothing comes out. Jimin waits, patient, always so patient. He hums and tap, tap, taps your palm, a gentle waltz of one, two, three. Your heartbeat settles.

"I love it when you sing." You sigh. Jimin laughs and keeps humming, his head settling over your shoulder. "I love it when you put your head on my shoulder."

Jimin laughs again. "What's this about?"

You ignore him. "I love it when you leave your shit all over the bathroom counter, and when you take so long to get ready you make us both late for things."

"This got significantly less flattering."

"I love it when--" Your head swims. "When I wake up to the breakfast you made. And when you're happy. And your stupid taste in romcoms."

You feel more than see the way his lips wobble like he's holding back a cry.

A part of you wants to stop this, say something to break the tension, but the other part, the bigger part, wants to keep telling Jimin pretty things while sitting in this pretty dream. Tell him how pretty he is. Tell him how much you ache ache ache with even the smallest touch.

"Y/n?" Jimin says, then, tentatively, when no more words seem forthcoming from you.

Everything is falling. You want to curl over Jimin's chest and listen to the thrum of his heart and counsel your own that way, there, like that, beat like that.

When you look at Jimin, he's frowning and you feel like you should lie. Any lie would be good right now, any lie would work, maybe help you escape towards the greenhouse. Then you wonder miserably what it would be like to be honest, for once.

"I love you." It's not you that says it. It's him. It's Jimin.

The world stops.

You shudder, let out a shaky breath, feel the way the walls expand and contract like you're trying to make sense of things.

"A horrible decision, really." You settle on saying, your hands settling over Jimin's shoulders shaking softly with laughter, then say, "Are you sure?"

You blink blink blink, need a second to put yourself back inside the lines. Feel the exact moment he presses a kiss to your shoulder softly, so softly you ache all over. You let out a shaky breath and feel him shiver.

"I've never been so sure of something," Jimin says-- breathless, almost-- pulling back to cup your jaw and lean even closer. He breathes against your lips and he's pretty, so pretty, so pretty you can barely breathe.

You don't say anything because you don't trust your voice and the world is spinning all funny and off-kilter.

"I want," Jimin starts, swallows, shivers. He doesn't say what he wants. Just kisses your jaw like it would be able to divine an answer, like it's answer enough. Your whole body throbs with fondness.

"Jimin-ah," you say but trail off, don't know where to go from there, either.

Jimin's thumb presses to the corner of your mouth, traces your bottom lip line. The pad of his thumb drags back higher, then tugs your lip down, and you can't stop the quiet noise you make. He stops. His eyes flick to yours.

The Earth, you think, is spinning wrong. Trying to compensate for what you've done. The tides will crash at odd times, the moon with be wrong. You're ruining the entire world with your hands.

Jimin's fingers dance on your cheeks.

You've already crossed so many lines you drew for yourself that it doesn't matter anymore. You reach out, cup the back of his head and tug, and then you're kissing.

Everything sizzles against your skin. You want to tell him that, that you feel like you're floating, that he's the only thing holding you down, the gentle press of his lips and his hands skimming over your arms, your neck, the dip in your back.

Jimin sighs against your lips and you feel it down to your bones. You don't know what to do or where to touch, feel yourself hover until Jimin takes your hands and guides them towards him. Your skin feels so hot you think it could catch fire.

"W-wait," You mumble and Jimin pulls back at that, watches you struggle to breathe, his hands hovering like he wants to touch but is holding himself back. "Shouldn't-- shouldn't we take it slow?"

And Jimin laughs, breathy and low. "We've been married for almost six months, but okay." He leans forward, kisses you right under the eye, a lingering press. It's so unexpected and intimate that you feel yourself gasp, is sure the spot is seared, that everyone will look at it and know.

When you open your eyes Jimin is there watching, waiting, looking so unbelievably fond, and says, "There you are, my pretty Y/n." He strokes the under of your eyes so so tenderly.

"I love you," you say this time, feel it tumble out without much hassle, feel the world crumble and disappear, sink like Atlantis.

And Jimin smiles so wonderfully wide and his shoulders sag with something like relief, and it's unbelievable, that he thought you wouldn't want this, that you wouldn't love him.

You tug at his shirt and when he kisses you again you're both grinning, all teeth and something sweet. It feels unhurried and earnest like he'd been wanting to do it forever. You get lost in it, in the sweetness, in Jimin whispering against your lips, letting you how good you are, how pretty you are, how very very much he loves you.

"What're you smiling about?" You ask, your hands linked together and swinging gently.

It's later. Night, even. The garden feels different at night, feels more like a fairy tale, something tender and familiar.

"I don't know," he says, shrugs, "You're just. Really great."

He tips his head up to the sky, says it to the stars, but you feel it anyway-- feel when your heart squeezes in your chest, turns to mush, human fondue.

"You're pretty cool, too." You say, laugh when he pushes you playfully, laugh even more when he pulls you back.

Then he's pulling you in closer and tilting your head just so, trailing a hand down the dip in your back. You think about small candles and nameless birds, about writing love letters to the moon. Think about how it's Jimin you're kissing. Kiss him harder.

Jimin melting, all warm and pliant. Jimin's hand sliding up the back of your sleep shirt, fingertips skimming the wings of your shoulder blades. It all feels inevitable, almost, but it also feels like a choice.

When you pull away you hear a gentle buzz of cicadas, a small connection back to the real world, and you breathe breathe breathe.

It all smells like spring.

a/n: this isn’t in my wips!! idk how it happened!!! next is my ot7 au i think. i’m excited fufufu :^) ty for reading, i really hope the pacing is ok, it’s what i struggled with while writing this,.,. take it or leave it ig djakdsj

[foxtophat]

i dont have much to say about this one!!! it’s just a story about carmina’s tenth birthday, and how the town of fall’s end is coping a decade after the collapse.  uhhh there are some random children in it?  bean is there! and of course john shows up, too, because that’s KIND OF THE POINT of mercyverse lol

technically there’s a story that comes before this, but i don’t have the vibe yet for it so i haven’t worked on it in a while. instead, i’ll probably just keep moving forward and throw up that one if the rest of the plot becomes at all relevant to the real main storyline.  uhhh the next one will take place in the spring of 2029 and we’re going to start getting into some fun stuff that i’ve planned out for a while!!!

until then, uh, the usual: love you, please like/share/reblog/kudos/comment, whatever you feel good about doing, because i sure do love to share my universe with other people!  hope you’re doing well and hopefully i’ll see you with another fic in a few weeks!

also as usual: the story text is below the cut for those of you who wanna stay on tumblr :)

It's Carmina's tenth birthday, and there's a party in town. The two things aren't exactly related, sure, but Carmina's used to sharing her birthday with the Collapse, and she's not about to turn down a bunch of free food. How can she not go to a real Hope County barbecue after her parents had hyped the experience up so much in the bunker? She'd hoped that her ninth birthday would have gotten a similar treatment, but the town just didn't have the food or people for it at the time. Her parents had told her that next year would be better; Carmina does her best to keep her imagination from blowing the whole thing out of proportion.

They leave a little bit after breakfast. Since John is coming along, mom has no excuse not to let Carmina ride in the back with him. He's not excited to be heading into town, but then again, the town isn't usually excited to see him, either. And considering what day it is, they're likely to be extra rude to him. Carmina doesn't get it, honestly, but she's just glad that she can ride in back without her mom grabbing onto her at every pothole and bump in the road.

The first surprise of the day comes as her dad parks just past the church, giving her a chance to stand up and look out over the town. She hasn't been here in a while, and so she's surprised to see that they've cleared out a lot of the dirt lot behind the usable buildings — and there are a lot of people hanging out there. Carmina's never seen so many people at once — she loses count around twenty and can easily guess double that. It's enough to rattle her nerves for just a second, before she catches the looks on her mom and dads' faces and realizes that this is probably a good thing. Sure, John looks like he wants to hop back in the truck and go home, but he always looks like that around strangers. Her parents, on the other hand, actually seem happy for once, and that's what matters to Carmina.

The second surprise is just how many of the adults seem to know her. Her parents move slowly through the mingling crowd, usually coming up with names for faces before Carmina's even looked at the strangers who call her by name. She gets lots of comments like, "I remember when your parents were expecting you!" and "I was wondering how the Rye's little girl turned out!" and even a few, "Glad to see you made it," comments that make her parents side-eye each other pretty fiercely. She doesn't need to introduce herself to anyone, not even people who her parents don't know so well — it's like everybody's always known her, and her family. It's kind of cool — but also kind of weird. Pastor Jerome always said that their family was a pillar in the community, but this is first-person evidence, right here in front of her.

Plenty of the adults wish her a happy birthday, too, but she knows their hearts aren't in it. It's one of the big drawbacks to sharing her birthday with the end of the world — nobody asks how old she is, nobody wants to know what she did on previous birthdays, and all of them have to make some kind of depressing comment. Like trying to get her to relate to birthdays before the Collapse: all they want to do is tell her about all the things she could be doing, or would be doing, if only the world hadn't ended. They want to share their birthdays from the past, but Carmina's never been to the movies, she doesn't know who Disney is, and she has no idea why they'd need a cake and candles for it all. Somebody tells her she should be graduating to the fourth grade, and she just stares back because what even is the fourth grade? What does that mean?

They mean well, so Carmina does her best not to upset anybody, but she knows that nobody appreciates how little she cares about life before the Collapse.

At least there are other kids in town today. Her mom had been telling her about some of them — kids who don't have families, who the town looks after — but Carmina's only ever met one of them, and that had been only for a few minutes. But Carmina can see them hanging out in the field, and as soon as her mom lets her, she heads right out to them. It's about time that she met people her age — she's getting tired of only ever talking to old people.

Of course, meeting strangers is still difficult for her, but she's saved from too much embarrassment as she recognizes the chicken brothers hanging out in the small group. She can't remember which one is Tom and which one is Matt, but they seemed really nice when they helped her pick out her chickens. She also recognizes the oldest boy in the group, although she can't remember his name at all. She's never seen the others before — two teenage girls, another boy her age, and a kid a couple years younger than her — but hopefully she won't make a total fool of herself.

"Hi," she says as she approaches, waving.

"Hey, Carmina," Matt-or-Tom says, stepping aside to make room for her in their makeshift circle. "I thought we would see you today."

"Yep," Carmina smiles, "Here I am!" She sees the teenagers' curious looks and tells them with little fanfare, "Today's my birthday."

"Oh," the oldest boy says. "That sucks."

One of the girls elbows him. "Don't be mean," she says.

"No, he's right," Carmina says. "It does suck."

"Well, happy birthday anyway. How old are you now?"

"Ten."

"Wow," the girl says. She looks at the boy, then back to Carmina, and says sympathetically, "You weren't kidding. That's rough."

Giggling with relief, Carmina waves once more. "It's okay. My name's Carmina, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

Being polite works like a charm, and the oldest boy is quick to go around with introductions. "Well, I'm Jason — this is Caroline, and this is Flower. The little kid there —"

"Hey!"

"— Is Bean, and... Sorry, man, what did you say your name was again?"

The other ten-year-old looking boy frowns and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. "Luke," he says.

"Okay, Luke. And you know Tom and Matt."

"We were talking about the bison out in the field," Tom-or-Matt says. He points in the direction of home and asks, "Did you guys see the big one when you were coming into town?"

"The one that's all white?" Carmina asks, "With the big scar over its hump? We see that one all the time when we come out this way —"

"No, no," the other brother says, "Jason says there's a bigger one."

"I told you guys," Jason says, "I only saw it once, and it was late at night while I was up in the crow's nest. I don't think it comes out during the day."

Carmina frowns. "What big one? What do you mean?"

"Oh, boy," Caroline sighs, "Don't listen to him, Carmina, he's full of shit."

"Hey, language," Flower laughs.

"Look, I was pretty far away, but I had the sniper rifle and I wasn't sleeping on the job. Uh, so..." He points out over the field, towards a squat set of huts surrounding a tall, busted silo that's still standing. The view from up there must be great. "Jerome has me sit up in that tower sometimes, you know, to practice. So I was up there, looking around, and it was probably midnight or so... and I just see this glow out in the field. I think it's a fire, right? Maybe somebody made a camp out there on their way to town or something. So I look out through the scope — and it was a bison."

"A glowing bison?" Carmina asks skeptically.

"Yeah. Like, a monster bison. It was all dark and scaly looking, except for the way its belly glowed. I thought about shooting it, but..."

Caroline laughs. "He got scared. Or it wasn't real, and he's making it all up."

"I wasn't scared, and I'm not making it up! It's not like it could've hurt me up in the nest. It... just didn't feel right. You know, it was just grazing with the rest of the herd. And it moved off over the hill before I could change my mind or call anybody up to confirm it."

"Sure, Jason."

"I'm serious," Jason insists, "I really saw it, okay? I told Jerome about it and everything." He frowns at the dirt. "He said it might've been mutated after the bombs. Then he told me not to go looking for it."

"He's right," Flower says. "Even regular bison are pretty dangerous." She smiles. "That's why I like deer — they won't hurt you. If you sit really still, sometimes they'll even come up and lick your face."

"Oh," Carmina says. "I usually just shoot them. They eat all our vegetables otherwise."

"Yeah," Flower sighs, "Sometimes I do, too. But they're also nice to watch."

Tom-or-Matt looks to his brother. "I wonder if that's what we see outside at night?"

"What, deer?"

"No, dumbass." He turns to the group and explains, "Sometimes, when it's real late and I gotta use the bathroom, I'll see something glowing out in the woods. Dad's cut back a lot of space so it never gets very close, but... maybe it's another mutated animal."

"At least you'll see it coming when it tries to attack you," Carmina suggests.

"Gee, thanks."

Carmina knows he's probably teasing, but she still feels guilty for being so blunt about it. The least she can do is try to reassure him. "Well... most animals don't attack near houses, I don't think. When we first came out of the bunker, there were wild dogs and wolves that would watch us, and my dad was real worried about them — but now they mostly stay away from the property. I think it's because of the fence. You guys have a fence, right?"

"Yeah, plus a butt-load of chickens that freak out over anything out of the ordinary." Matt-or-Tom grins at her and asks, "Don't they wake you up with every little thing?"

Carmina briefly considers mentioning John being attacked, then decides against it. She also doesn't want to tell them that the chickens live mostly indoors at night now — the last thing she wants to do is kick off a whole big thing about the cult on her dang birthday! It's already hard enough pretending to care about them around her parents; she's not sure she could even force herself to bother here. And if she's not careful, the kids in town might start to think about her and her family the same way all the adults do.

"They're pretty docile, actually," she says, "And we only really see deer around our place... It's not like they eat chickens."

"Well.... maybe there's a mutant deer out there that wants to eat you," Tom-or-Matt teases.

Carmina rolls her eyes. "I'll shoot it before it gets past the hangar," she replies.

Of course, her dismissive confidence leads to a sprawling discussion on who might be the best shot out of the group. Carmina does her best to defend her skills, considering she can't prove any of it right now, but all three teens insist they're dead-eyes, and even Bean says he's "getting pretty good at the aiming part." On top of that, the kids from the town have gotten pointers from Aunt Grace herself, which means they might actually be better shots than Carmina expects.

"Maybe we should have a competition," Caroline suggests. "I bet Pastor Jerome and Aunt Grace would be okay with it."

"Sure," Jason laughs, "But you know they'd make us spend forty minutes disassembling and cleaning our rifles before and after. Like I don't know what I'm doing — I'm almost fifteen!"

"Have you guys been to Aunt Grace's?" Carmina asks. "She has a shooting range there."

"Maybe she'd let us use it!"

"I've never been to a real shooting range," Bean says.

"It's not a real shooting range," Jason points out, "Those all got blown up. Do you even know how to use a gun, Bean?"

"I just said I do! My dad taught me! I... just don't like the loud noises it makes."

Matt-or-Tom boasts, "We learned to shoot in our bunker. Mom collected Airsoft guns — they don't use bullets, so they can't kill you."

"What's the point of that?"

"I dunno, I guess practicing underground?"

Tom-or-Matt laughs. "Dad was convinced the Peggies were gonna get us, so he wanted us to know how to shoot."

The quiet kid, Luke, finally speaks up. "Lucky," he mutters, "Easier to learn underground, I bet."

"What about you?" Carmina asks. She tries not to cringe away when he stares back at her like he didn't expect anyone to hear him. Maybe he doesn't like people talking to him? "Um... my mom and dad had a bunch of gun magazines in the bunker, but I never got to shoot a real gun until we came outside. Mom and Aunt Grace have been teaching me, though, and I'm way better than my dad is."

Luke hesitates. "Kind of the same. We came up early, though. Had to."

"Me, too," Jason replies. "It was just me and my brother. I was five when we got stuck in the bunker — we went through our supplies in about three years, so we had to come back up."

"We... only stayed down until I could walk," Luke admits. "It was still really cold when we came up. And mom got real sick for a while."

"Yikes," Bean says, "That sucks!"

"Come on, bean," Jason snaps, "You don't say that."

"You just said it to her!" Bean shouts, pointing at Carmina.

"He's... right," Luke mumbles. "It sucked. It... still sucks. But things are getting better now." He looks up at them, then drops his eyes back to the dirt. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Carmina insists, "I asked first!"

"That's kind of the mood today," Caroline adds. "Don't worry. We can talk about something else."

The change in topic comes abruptly as Bean points towards the Church and asks, "Who is that with Pastor Jerome?"

Carmina doesn't need to look, but since the rest of the group does, she might as well too. John has his hat pulled low over his eyes, as usual, which makes him look suspicious, as usual. Knowing him, he probably didn't even leave the truck — just waited there for Jerome to come talk to him.

She can only hope that Tom and Matt keep their mouths shut since they're the only other kids who know what John looks like nowadays. Unfortunately for her, that hope is pretty quickly dashed.

"Oh," Matt-or-Tom says, like a jerk, "That's John, I think. Right, Carmina?"

"Wait," Jason says, "You're that Carmina?"

Carmina ducks her head. "Um... it depends, I guess?"

Flower, looking too sympathetic for Carmina's liking, tries to mediate. "He just means, well... Jerome talks about you sometimes."

"And he talks about that guy," Jason adds, pointing without any subtlety at all.

"Everyone talks about that guy," Caroline says with a sigh. She gives Carmina a sympathetic shrug as she does, as though she wishes she could stop the conversation from happening, too. That only makes Carmina worried that this isn't the first time the teenagers have sat around gossiping about John and the crazy people who decided to take him in.

"Wait," Bean gasps, way too loudly, "That's John Seed?"

"Oh my God," Matt-or-Tom sighs, "You gotta keep up with the conversation."

"Wait, what's he doing here? Why's he going into the church? I thought he wasn't supposed to come to town? I thought he was locked up!"

Carmina groans. "It's my birthday," she whines, "I don't wanna talk about John today!"

"We don't have to," Caroline says. "Guys, come on."

"I mean, he did kill a lot of people. Isn't he, like, a psychopath? Isn't it weird to live with a murderer?"

"Jason!"

Luke mutters, "I heard he used to cut off people's skin."

"That's true," Jason replies, "My brother has a huge scar from when it happened to him. Boy, I hope he doesn't see that jackass is here..."

Matt-or-Tom finally seems to realize what he's started, frowning as the conversation spirals crazily out of control. It's too late to stop it, though, and so he shuffles his feet and looks apologetically towards Carmina.

Fine. If she can't get around the subject, she's just going to have to tackle it head-on. Even if that sounds really scary. She doesn't think that these guys are going to flip out like the caravan last year did, but she's still a little worried that she might be in for a fight if she says the wrong thing about John.

"I know John used to be a bad guy," she says. "Like, really bad. My dad's got one of those scars, too. But he's not like that any more. All he does nowadays is help my parents with chores and stuff. And he's just like everybody else — he doesn't talk about what happened before the Collapse to me or anybody. So I really don't know anything more than you guys.

She probably knows less than them, honestly, but she's not about to say so and get a brutal lesson in everything John's ever done wrong.

"So he's just... different, now?" Jason asks, frowning unhappily at the church.

"I guess so," Carmina replies with a shrug. She looks over to make sure that John and Jerome are inside, just in case. "He's not... scary, or mean, or anything like that. Just quiet. Kind of... lonely, I guess. Ever since he found out his brother is alive but still crazy, he's been really beat up about it." He's also been literally beaten up over it, but now's not the time to try and make the others feel sorry for him. John would probably be irritated at the idea of a bunch of kids pitying him.

Matt-or-Tom is quick to help her out, which is nice. "She's right," he says. "The Father is still out there in the woods with all those crazies, but John's repented. Dad said he made amends with God, whatever that means. He... uh, still doesn't like us being around him, but when we helped him load the chickens in he seemed okay. Just real quiet."

"That's John, alright," Carmina sighs.

Bean looks seriously disappointed by the news. "You mean he doesn't talk about it at all?" he asks.

"No," Carmina says, snapping for good measure, "And he gets really upset when you ask about it, so don't."

"I'm not gonna go talk to him!" Bean gasps.

The idea that a kid might be scared of John is pretty funny, considering how uncomfortable he is around her, but Carmina's not about to say as much. John probably wouldn't like her sharing a weakness like that with a bunch of strangers, and she wouldn't want them using it against him later.

Flower slowly lifts her hand, looking embarrassed. "Some of the adults in town say the Bliss messed him up. Is that... true?"

Well, at least she's trying to be nice about it. "I dunno," Carmina admits. "He was super weird when he first started living with us, but that might've just been because he was stuck in his bunker for so long."

"Oh, that happened to a guy my dad knows!" Bean supplies helpfully. "Dad calls it bunker shock. Says living underground too long is bad for you when you're all alone!"

"Glad I didn't live in one long enough for that," Luke says. When everyone looks at him, he clams up for a second before continuing on. "A neighbor came up just this year. He's... real weird. I don't like him much. He still sleeps underground, hoping he'll wake up and it'll all be a dream." He scuffs his boot against the dirt, sniffing loudly. "That's what my mom says, anyway. I try not to be around when he comes by."

"He wouldn't be the first adult to be like that," Jason says. He gives the church one last look before nodding his head towards the party. "I mean, that's why we're all the way out here, instead of hanging out around the food. Right?"

"No," Bean replies, "I'm out here 'cos I can't eat another bite! I didn't know you could be this full."

Caroline laughs. "Yeah, the adults have been stockpiling for weeks, it looks like... I guess everyone was really looking forward to it — or, well, I guess that's what it is."

Flower gazes over at the gaggle of adults. Carmina recognizes her dreamy smile from the way her mom looks around the house sometimes, like she's getting a new, better look at the place.

"It feels like things are starting to look up," she says. "Maybe they can all be happier now."

"Hey, don't jinx it!" Tom-or-Matt laughs.

Bean looks around at the rest of them and for a second, Carmina is worried he's going to ask more about John and restart the whole ugly conversation. Thankfully, it looks like he's still a baby, so he's quickly distracted.

"So, what do we do now?" he asks, pushing his too-big glasses up his nose.

Carmina has never actually played with other kids before, so she doesn't have any good suggestions — especially when shooting is off-limits. Thankfully, she isn't the only one. The teenagers don't know where their soccer ball went, and Luke says he doesn't even know what soccer is. Bean says he usually plays word games by himself. When Tom-or-Matt suggests they play something called "capture the flag," it manages to make its way to the top of the list just because Jason and Caroline have both heard of it before.

Well, at least something is better than nothing. The older kids explain how capture the flag works, using Jason's shirt for their team's flag while the other kids band together around Matt-or-Tom's sweaty tank top. Carmina imagines that one of them should sit out for even teams, but the older kids seem confident that they can handle it. Too confident, in Carmina's opinion — maybe they need to be brought down a peg.

Capture the flag turns out to be more fun than Carmina had expected — and a lot harder, too. Trying to outmaneuver the older kids is tough work, but she and Tom-or-Matt figure out how to flank them pretty quick. There's nothing better than the moment when Carmina manages to dive out of the way when Jason tries to tackle her, and even if she gets dog-piled by Flower halfway back to Bean at home base, she holds Jason's shirt up for another teammate to take.

Unfortunately, the game ends without a winner as a sharp whistle pierces the air. Bean looks up and shouts, "That's my dad! I better go!"

He runs off at full tilt without so much as a goodbye, and Carmina has to squint against the setting sun to watch him go. She hadn't realized how late it had gotten.

"I should probably get going, too," Luke says, sweaty and almost smiling for once. "I want to get another plate of food before we go home."

"Ugh," Carmina sighs, "And the chickens need feeding."

"Just make John do it," Matt-or-Tom says, apparently not learning his lesson about mentioning John.

"It's supposed to be my job," she says. "And anyway, he already feeds them in the morning when I don't get up in time."

"They're gonna like him more than you," Tom-or-Matt laughs.

Jason frowns. "He feeds your chickens?"

"I mean... yeah. He does whatever we need him to." Carmina shrugs, glancing back towards the church. She hasn't seen Jerome or John leave — maybe she should go see them before she rounds up her parents? Nah, it's better to leave them alone until the very last minute.

"Just... didn't think you'd let him near livestock, that's all."

"What's he gonna do, poison the eggs?" Carmina huffs. "He's good with them. I think he likes them 'cos they aren't judgey."

Caroline frowns, which tells Carmina she might've been a little rude. But Jason's been rude about John all day, so she's not going to feel sorry about it!

"Well, I guess if your parents trust him..."

"Sure they do," Carmina replies, even if that's not... exactly right. She knows her parents trust John enough to help around the house, but she thinks they only want to trust him with all the other stuff.

"I really better go," she says, pointing towards town.

"Sure," Flower says. "It was nice to meet you, Carmina."

Carmina gives them her best grin, relieved when it's returned from the others. Jason even waves like there's no hard feelings. "It was nice meeting you guys," she says.

"Happy birthday again!" Matt-or-Tom says, "And be careful!"

"Yeah," his brother laughs, "Wouldn't want to have a glowing deer attack you in the outhouse tonight!"

Carmina laughs away the dumb attempt to scare her, waving goodbye before turning to head for the party. Halfway there, she glances over her shoulder and sees the group turned back to one-another in conversation. None of them are looking back, but as she continues on, she's chased by an unfamiliar sense of discomfort. She can't help but wonder if they're still talking about John in the church.... If they're talking about her.

At least she can distract herself while looking for her parents. There are plenty of adults who say hello; some of them even point her helpfully towards her mom's last known location, or towards the table with the cookies her dad really liked. Some of them check in to make sure her birthday has been going well, too, which is nice of them, but a lot of adults are pretty drunk and deep in their own conversations.

She eventually finds her mom and dad standing around a grill with Marjorie, one of the adults in charge around town. Carmina's met her a couple of times. She's nice, but she can talk a lot. There's no telling how long they've been talking for, and if Carmina doesn't interrupt, who knows when they'll finish. While she could probably grab some food for the road, first she has to make sure that they're actually going to be leaving sometime before the next Collapse.

Besides, it looks like her dad's already got a box of leftovers in his hands. If Carmina wants to eat, she's going to have to interrupt.

"Hey dad," she says as she comes up to them, "The chickens are going to need dinner soon."

Her dad grins at her before handing over the squat, open cardboard box. There's chicken, ribs, corn and roasted potatoes, and even a handful of cookies and flatbread; it takes everything in Carmina's power not to make a desperate grab for more food. She doesn't have to worry about going hungry tonight, so there's no need to eat everything put in front of her.

"Here," he tells her, "You take this, alright? My arms are gettin' tired."

Yeah, right. As soon as she takes the box, he uses one of those tired arms to grab one of the ribs. When Carmina frowns suspiciously at him, her dad only shrugs.

"I coughed on it."

"Uh-huh..."

Laughing, her mom reaches out to give Marjorie a hug. It might've run a little long, but her mom obviously enjoyed the talk. "We'll be back in a week or two with the tractor parts," she says. "You're going to get the fields back in shape in no time."

"Already got a good start," Marjorie replies. She shoots Carmina a warm smile. "Happy birthday, by the way! Don't think I got to see you much. Hope those kids weren't giving you a hard time."

"No," Carmina replies., "They're all really nice. We want to practice shooting together, maybe have a contest. Jason said he's better than anybody else."

"I bet you're gonna give him a run for his money!" Marjorie laughs. "Well, the better a shot you are, the better off you'll be. You won't see anybody here stop you kids."

"Yeah, but tonight, I have to feed the chickens," Carmina says, just in case her parents need another chance to get out of here.

"We've got a few other people to say goodbye to," her mom tells her. "Why don't you take the food back to the truck? We'll meet you there."

"Should I get John, too?"

As soon as she asks, Carmina decides she probably shouldn't have brought it up. Too late, though; by the look on Marjorie's face, there's no way to pretend she didn't hear it.

Her dad shrugs. "Probably oughta," he tells her, as if he doesn't see Marjorie staring at them like she is.

Marjorie definitely doesn't like that, judging by the way she squints, but she doesn't say anything about it. "Well, I hope you had a decent enough birthday for once," she says, "Hopefully we'll be having a party around this time every year from now on."

"That would be nice," mom says.

"Just you wait, we're gonna turn this ship around one way or another." Marjorie gestures with her hands and says, "Alright, you better go, before those chickens of yours eat each other."

Carmina frowns. "They don't do that, do they?"

"Uh, let's get moving," her dad says. "See you soon, Marg."

"Take care!"

Her mom and dad have to stop a few more times to say goodbye to people Carmina doesn't know, but she pushes on without them and nobody stops her for more than a quick birthday greeting. She catches sight of Luke packing up some food with his parents, but he's too distracted to notice her. At least she isn't the only one carrying a box of leftovers out of here; it would feel selfish of her if they weren't sending leftovers home with other people.

Her parents haven't caught up with her by the time she reaches the truck, and John is nowhere to be seen. She figures he's probably still in the church — he and Pastor Jerome always take forever when they're talking. They'll probably be there until dad goes in and breaks them up.

Eating by herself in the back of the truck doesn't feel right, especially not within walking distance of the church. Leaving the food tucked in the corner by the cab, Carmina heads for the building herself. Even if nobody was in there, she'd probably go wander inside for a few minutes; it's a comforting, quiet place in the dry, dusty town. But right now, she's pretty sure John is hanging around inside, and he probably hasn't eaten anything all day, either. She should at least let him have first pick.

She knows a lot of the adults dislike the church, but Carmina personally enjoys how its sun-bleached siding stands out against the sky. Besides the house, the church is one of the few places Carmina wishes she could have seen in one piece. She's seen old, faded pictures from ancient newspaper clippings, but it's just not the same.

The doors are open wide enough for Carmina to slip in without a sound. The air inside is cool, almost chilly, and it smells like dirt and grass. From the entrance, there's only a narrow gap keeping Jerome and John out of sight. She doesn't mean to hide, but she doesn't want to interrupt Jerome mid-sentence...

It's too late, she's eavesdropping.

"It might not be much, but it's something," Jerome's saying. "He even stayed a few nights, when the wind got bad and brought too much pollen over the river."

"It would be better for everyone if he stayed here permanently," John replies. "Wallace went further down the path than the rest of them, and they clearly don't know what they're doing."

"They're trying, John. And we don't have a say in the matter. It's got to be his choice. Remember?"

John grunts, clearly annoyed. Carmina doesn't think she's ever heard him say so much before. Does he talk to her mom and dad this much? Is he really only quiet around her?

"I don't like it," John says.

"For what it's worth, neither do I. But Sharky's taking things seriously — they all are. You're going to have to trust them."

"Trust isn't exactly one of my virtues," John grumpily admits.

Jerome chuckles. "You just need practice."

Well, Carmina definitely feels guilty now. She had only been waiting for an opening, but if she waits any longer, she's really going to be breaking John's trust. Pastor Jerome's, too, for that matter.

Thinking on her toes, Carmina pushes on the already open door as though she's just showing up. Of course, the hinges squeal in protest as soon as she does, so she stops before she breaks something.

"Are you guys still in here?" she calls. She's pretty convincing about it, in her opinion.

"Yes, Carmina," Jerome responds, apparently none-the-wiser, "We're here."

John regards her neutrally as she steps into view, but he's always wearing his poker face around her. She needs to get better at reading it.

"I guess it's time to go, then," he says.

"Yeah. Um — I mean, I can meet you back at the truck. Mom and dad will be here soon..."

Jerome speaks up before John can get the chance. "No, you two go on. I think we were just about done ourselves, and I'd like to sit here for a little while, before it gets too dark." He and John shake hands, and then he comes over to give Carmina a hug. "Happy birthday," he tells her. "You be good for another year, alright?"

"I'll try," she says.

"That'a girl," Jerome laughs. "Keep an eye on her, John."

Sometimes, it seems like Jerome is the only adult in Hope County that doesn't think John is a bad influence on her. Even her mom and dad, who are basically the only people on John's side, get uncomfortable if she tries to talk to him too much. But Jerome is a special case. He used to be weird about anything John-related, but nowadays? Honestly, Carmina's pretty sure he's John's only friend at this point — well, okay, other than mom and dad, but they don't count.

John waits until they've left the church to speak. He's chilly and dismissive, as usual.

"How long were you listening for?"

"I wasn't," Carmina begins — but she can't lie to him. Lying only ever makes things worse. So she corrects herself reluctantly and admits, "It was only a minute. I didn't mean to... it just sort of happened."

"Hm."

Normally, Carmina can't get a read on John's poker face, but... huh. She can't help but feel like she might've... hurt his feelings? She definitely wasn't being trustworthy, that's for sure. And now he's trying to casually out-pace her on the walk back to the truck.

"I'm sorry for eavesdropping," she says, picking up her pace to match his. "I promise, I won't do it again."

John glares at her, but she's pretty sure he's not angry. Maybe just confused? She's not sure, he's never looked at her longer than two seconds before.

"I... appreciate it," he replies instead, which makes it the first time he's ever accepted an apology of hers. Usually, he just tells her not to worry about it.

Carmina grins at him, but he's already looked away, so of course he doesn't see it. Instead, he looks to the field, where the three teens from town are still hanging out. Carmina can't tell if they're looking this way or not. She sure hopes they aren't; John would know immediately that they gossiped about him, and she's already messed up with him once today.

"Have you ever played capture the flag?" she asks, hoping to distract him. "The chicken brothers taught us the rules but I think they maybe made some of it up."

John cracks a small smile. Well, Carmina will pretend it's one, anyway.

"The chicken brothers," he repeats.

"You know, Tommy and Matt."

"Do they know that's what you call them?"

"I mean, I've never said it to their faces..."

"That's probably smart."

They reach the truck, which marks the invisible barrier that keeps John out of town. Of course, mom and dad still aren't here. If Carmina climbed up on top of the truck, she might be able to spot them, but it's not like she could get their attention from this far away. So, she's going to have to kill time until they get back.

"Did you eat?" she asks, climbing up into the truck bed.

"I'm fine, Carmina," John replies, a little wearily. Like she's not the first person to bug him about it today — or, maybe like he lacks energy from not eating all day.

She rolls her eyes, but John doesn't see. "Uh-huh." She sits down, pulling the box of food into her lap as she leans back against the cab. "Dad was surprised that there were cookies. Um, not exactly the same, I guess? But still really good." She's not going to give him a chance to turn it down, grabbing one and shoving it in his direction. "Here, try one!"

John, leaning against the side of the truck like he is, is clearly more interested in looking for her parents than humoring her. He definitely looks like he wants to say no. But to her surprise, he actually takes the offered food. It would be weird to stare at him while he eats, so she goes back to debating between a chicken leg or one of the last ribs in the box.

"Not bad," John comments, which is like, crazy, because Carmina definitely isn't goading him into talking.

"They're kind of crumbly," Carmina says, "I dunno if that's what it's supposed to be like. But all the food is really good." She counts the chicken legs out again, just to make sure there's one for each of them. "Um... hey, John? Uh... do chickens eat each other?"

John frowns, chewing the question over with the rest of the cookie. He swallows, then says, "Most animals cannibalize their own if they're desperate enough."

"Oh."

"They would need to be left alone for a lot longer than a few hours," he points out. "Or they would have to be sick. It's more likely a dog will get them before they turn on each other."

Well, at least Carmina can trust John to tell her the truth, even if it's probably not the way her parents would want him to do it. She doesn't even mind him being so blunt about it, either; she's just surprised he's willing to talk to her. She can't help but wonder if this is going to be a normal thing, now that she's ten — is he going to stop being so weird around her? Or is this just a special treat, because of the day? She sure hopes not. It'd be a lot less awkward if John didn't act so scared of her all the time.

Her parents finally join them at the truck. Her mom wrinkles her nose at Carmina sitting in the back again, but she doesn't say anything. Her dad doesn't seem to mind; once he spots the box in Carmina's lap, he reaches over to grab one of the shortbread cookies for himself.

"Sorry about that," he says, "We got held up a couple times. John, you try one of these yet?"

"I did."

"Crazy having home-baked goods again, right?" Her dad waggles the cookie in John's face; John rolls his eyes and circles back around to the tailgate, climbing up into the bed. "Here, Carmina, give me that box so the food doesn't get too cold on the way home."

"You're just gonna eat everything," Carmina objects, handing over the box anyway.

"Nah, come on. Here, you guys grab something for the ride home." He nudges Carmina's shoulder with the box. "You probably worked up an appetite bullying all the older kids out there — and I bet you didn't eat much of anything, either," he adds in John's direction.

"I had a cookie, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I'll bet nobody forced you into it, either."

Carmina grins as her dad winks at her. Her mom rolls her eyes, but doesn't keep dad from bullying John a little. "Grab something so we can get going," she tells John, "And make sure she doesn't stand up once we're in drive."

John reluctantly takes a towel-wrapped ear of corn and a single rib, while Carmina goes right for that piece of chicken she'd been eying from the start. That helps her make peace with sitting safely, at least this one time. Next year, she's definitely going to get to ride in back by herself, she can feel it, and she is going to do it standing up!

As Carmina watches the town shrink behind them, she congratulates herself on another successful birthday. It'd been better than she'd expected — she was a little uncomfortable around so many people at first, but now she's pretty sure she can say she's made some friends? And seeing the town full of food and laughter and music... It had been sort of what Carmina imagines Fall's End used to be like. Her parents probably wouldn't agree, but maybe that's okay. Maybe when she's older, she can try and prove to them that things can be just as good as they used to be — even if it's a different kind of good.

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

January 3rd or One's Beginning is another's end (Daughters of Darkness)

This passage contains potentially: Explicit Language, Depictions of Violence (including mentions of blood), Smoking, Slang and maybe some bad translations.

Summary: An introduction to the world of the Daughters of Darkness, through the eyes of series protagonist Kirby 'Gluttony' Lucifarian. The first day and night, from her perspective, of them working for the WWF.

Kirby's POV:

Tuesday. The first day of being 'on the job', Tuesday the third of January 1984. Damien got us into the WWF. … Damien, managed to get us into the quickest rising wrestling promotion, popularity wise. To be honest with you, Damien's given us free reign to get to know people, for now. I don't know anyone here. I've heard of people here, such as the most famous giant in the world, and … Hogan.

I'm not here because I earned it, I'm here because I'm a necessity for the team. That's how I view it. That's how I've always viewed it. Vickie needed someone to make fun of and, well, I'm the easiest choice. Then, in the midst of a darker path of thought becoming clearer in my mind...

WHAM

Both me and the figure I waltzed into thudded to the floor, "Oh, my good lord. I'm so sorry are you o..."

I looked at the figure before me, taking in how much trouble I had created in the last three seconds.

Taller than myself.

Head covered by a wild afro.

Around double my weight.

André.

André the giant.

Flat on his arse … because of me.

Oh … Shit.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle…"

I could tell he was searching for a name but didn't know it. Too frightened to even speak I glanced away. I noticed his shadow move.

"Mademoiselle?"

His footsteps came closer, he sounded … worried, as if he didn't want me to get fired for this.

"Mademoiselle?"

He picked me up, not off the ground, but so I could stand. I whispered out a small 'thank you', or rather 'merci'. His hands still on my shoulders, he smiled sweetly and nodded, as if to beckon forth more words from me.

"I'm Kirby, or rather, Gluttony. I'm new around here."

André grinned, putting his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer before stopping upon seeing how much taller than every other woman in the company I am.

"Are you, uh …" he searched for the words

"A giant, yes, technically a giantess."

I feel I should summarise the next hour or so, but, André took me on a tour of the backstage area and we talked, about everything. Within an hour I had gained a new friend, a genuine friend, someone who didn't care about my height or looks. I know the only reason he didn't care is because he knows what it's like to be stared at just because you aren't 'normal'.

By the time André's tour had ended it was time for Vickie and Damien's interview with Mean Gene, which I was to attend. I said a goodbye to André and rushed off to perform my usual role.

The Enforcer, or rather, the intimidation device, that's my role in this group, to scare people, that's all I do. Before joining the group I was part of another group back in England, The Celtic Warriors, I was part of a championship winning tag team. Now what am I, a damned intimidation device, a human scare tactic.

The Interview:

Gene's first question for us, actually, Damien and Vickie (whilst I stood behind them and looked 'menacing'), was 'How are you doing so far?'

Damien began, "You know something, Gene, my girls have yet to have a match, but we are doing absolutely fine. In shape, ready to rock, ready to roll. Gene, every one of the Daughters of Darkness are doing fine."

Vickie followed suit, "Just look at us," She gestured to me and then herself, "Don't we look marvellous, Gene."

Gene smirked, "You could say that again, miss?"

"Pride, though you can call me Vickie."

Damien glared at the smaller man, almost as if he was daring him to try and flirt with her.

Gene readjusted and focused in on the prospect of new women in the WWF and the possibility of more matches. "Uh hum, yes, now how soon do you girls think you'll be seeing a match on the cards?"

"Soon, Gene, Soon." Vickie stated, ending the interview by walking off.

The first night after 'work' was surprisingly normal, Damien and Vickie went off in their rental car, taking Holly and Eli with them whilst the rest of us stood around backstage for a while.

Billie brought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her purse, lighting one up and walking over to me, sitting down on a box placed near by and blowing the smoke away from me she spoke up.

"What's up with you, Tall-ass."

"Thinking."

"Dangerous pastime hermana."

"I know, hermana"

"You collect phrases, don' cha?"

"They may come in handy, Billie, one day."

"You going to the gym tomorrow?"

"Of course. Gotta train. Gotta … gotta settle in somehow, right?"

"Right, mi hermana, I'll see you around, alright?"

"See ya, Billie."

She waved back at me as she walked away.

Billie was the only person who knew that I 'collected' those little phrases that seem like nothing until spoken. Language isn't my strongest aspect, more often than not I'm silent and I try to avoid other peo-

"Hey! watch where you're walking man!" I yelped out, shocked back into the present moment. Instantly regret flooded my mind as I realised who had barged past me to get out of the building.

Big John Studd.

One of the most disrespectful 'giants' in the world of wrestling. famous for being the one man who pisses André off more than anyone else, including the Iron Sheik.

He sneered back a quick, "Who gives a fuck." and continued to stroll away.

That … that fuckwit. Who does he think he is. I felt a gentle hand place itself on my shoulder. I turned, expecting to see Eli or P.G, I was face to, well, chin with André.

"Forget about him," He started, with that same sweet, friendly smile from earlier, "Damien said you may need a ride back to the hotel. I don't recommend you walk back now, too dark out for a young lady such as yourself."

The way his R sounds turned into faint W's and he missed off or faintly implied H's was calming. Almost in the same way that hearing a parents voice would calm a child after a nightmare.

"Oh, uh, it's okay André, I was going to get a taxi."

He nodded in response, somehow both downhearted and curious, as if he knew that I was either lying to him or if I did get a taxi, the immense pain my back would be in the following day. André sauntered off, leaving me, once again by myself.

I don't mind being alone, in fact most of my life I have been alone, always the outcast, it was only when I got into wrestling that it started to change.

I picked up my bag and started walking, buttoning up my shirt up to the top of my chest, my near-neon orange shirt covering down to my mid-forearm, hiding any noticeable tattoos, except the one on my wrist, when I turned eighteen, I got a small, runic 'R' on my right wrist, in remembrance of my uncle Rory, the tallest of my dad's brothers.

It took about an hour to get to the hotel, an hour of walking through a city I'm not familiar with, when I eventually got to the hotel I went straight to my room and locked myself in. All alone, I could practice or train if I wanted, so I did.

I took off my black shirt, shoes and belt and I stood in the middle of the hotel room and practiced punching, then I switched to doing my warmups and working out, push-ups, planks, squats. By the time I finished it must've been around midnight, maybe one or two am. I got some sleep, waking up at six, getting changed into some fresh workout gear and headed straight to the gym.

You meet all sorts of characters at a gym, or so I've been told. Back in England I would go to my parents house and use our home-made gym to work out. Not an option that I have anymore, however, the moment I got into the gym, I felt like I was in a whole new world, as if I was just getting into the business all over again. I scanned for any faces that I knew, Mr Fuji, Tonga Kid, Sgt Slaughter, Don Muraco, Lou Albano, Iron Sheik, Freddie Blassie, Tito Santana, Jimmy Snuka, Bob Backlund, Gene and Pat, David Schultz, and … who is that?

I walked over to David and this mystery guy, nodding at David and heading to the heavy bag next to them.

"Mornin' Gluttony, André's been talkin' about ya."

"Oh really, Mr Schultz?" I tried to keep my breath noises to a minimum as I continued to hit the bag.

The mystery guy snickered, quickly shutting up after Schultz glared at him.

"C'mon girl, you know you can call me David. An' yeah," He stopped punching and instead leaned on the heavy bag in front of him, forcing the other guy to hold it still "Giant's been talking about him havin' a new friend and how much he likes ya."

"He's a good man, it's good to have friends in new places. Who's your pal, David?"

He smiled and slung his arm around the shorter man, "This here, this is Roddy Piper. He's like you."

I tilted my head slightly to try and make him explain further.

"You are Scottish, right?"

"I'm a quarter Scottish. Anyway, Piper, Do you speak Gaelic?"

"Uh, no, I can play the bagpipes however." his eyes lit up slightly, a sort of mad fire behind a haze of brown or maybe dark blue.

"Well, I'll see you around I guess, I've gotta warm up for later though."

I tried to block the two men out and focus on my own workout but Piper seemed to stick around a lot longer than David. He was still there when my workout ended.

"What do you want?"

"You're a quarter Scottish, you're also a giant. How do you fight? Show me." He seemed to get more energetic the more he talked.

"Right now?"

He nodded, "Right now, c'mon."

He led me to a ring that some other wrestlers were using to brush up their skills.

From the looks of the ring, it was actually used for boxing.

Roddy entered the ring the same way as most six-foot-two guys did, through the top and middle ropes. I tested the ropes, and seeing that they had just enough slack, used them to jump over the top rope.

"I've never seen a girl do that before."

"Mistake number one, I'm a woman, not a girl. Mistake number two, you expected a giant to be normal."

He scoffed out a laugh and got ready to lock up.

We locked up and Piper hit me with a knee to the stomach.

I got him back with an Irish whip into the corner, accidentally winding him by being too stiff.

"You're gonna pay for that, lass." He snarled out, already getting pissed off.

I sized him up, trying to see how high I would have to get myself in order to dropkick him to the mat.

Piper tried to hit me with a running high knee strike but I countered with a dropkick, taking us both down to the mat and slamming my face into the mat.

The mat was a lot harder than I was used to, it felt like I had rammed my head straight into a cinderblock, I started breathing heavier than before.

I rolled over and put my arms up, making an 'X' with my forearms. Piper stopped and walked over.

"You alright?"

I shook my head.

He knelt down and pulled me up into a sitting position.

I hesitated, knowing I had to take my mask off to see what was wrong but truly not wanting to. Piper managed to unbuckle the straps of my mask and winced as he saw what was underneath. My mind went slightly mad not knowing if he was wincing at the injury I had caused myself or the fact that, compared to the rest of the D.O.D, I'm truly the worst looking, beauty-wise, that is.

Hitting my mouth so hard on the canvas of the mat below us, I had managed to hit my mask in a way that the bottom edge, which curved under my chin, cut into my flesh and made me bleed.

I put my hand up to the cut and Piper quickly held my arm by the wrist and shook his head, "Don't you dare."

By the time I received medical aid, which consisted of cleaning the cut and putting a band-aid on it, Piper had given me back my mask and asked if he could work out with me sometime. Knowing that he was currently on a different show, I said sure and we had split ways.

END OF ONE'S BEGINNING IS ANOTHER'S END / JANUARY 3RD

[darkhymns-fic]

On a Night of Snow and Wine

On New Year's Eve, Lloyd and Colette stop at Flanoir, having no time to visit anywhere else and just quietly usher in the year that would come… Until wine is involved.

When it comes to alcohol, Lloyd was a lightweight. And sometimes, feelings can just slip out.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Technically my last fic for 2020! Thanks for sticking with me this year.

--

The last time Lloyd had been tipsy was when he had been 12 years old, unsupervised, and much too full of confidence for his own good. His father’s ale cabinet had been thoroughly locked up, hidden away in a storage room full of spices and herbs. Sometimes he'd see Dirk get a small mug, bringing with it full of something frothy and dirt-colored. 

So of course, he had been instantly curious.

Lloyd had already been practicing his lockpicking, and it was only a matter of hours before he finally got to the contents. He didn't exactly understand why it said ‘spirits’ on the bottle in Dwarven script, but he wanted to try it anyway. After all, he was supposed to learn all the Dwarven things from his dad, so why not this?

Dirk came home from log-cutting to find his son passed out on the wooden floors, the one bottle he had taken barely half-drunk. The Dwarven Vows he had to learn that night had been particularly ancient, with their meanings convoluted and making his head hurt. He of course forget them the very next day. Re-learning them wasn't any easier.

So, it just seemed only a bit similar, when the inn sent him and Colette some wine to their room for the night, a complimentary gift in celebration of the new year. Flanoir was once again blanketed in snow, the lampposts softly lighting up the steeple of the cathedral nearby, making the white seem so much brighter than before. 

"Oh, for us?" Lloyd asked, as Colette handed over the bottle to him that the innkeeper had personally given. "It looks so fancy! And...we're actually not paying for it?" Lloyd would never say no to some free stuff!

The wine bottle had a name printed on it that Lloyd only vaguely recognized. (Did it say 'Altamira' on it?) The liquid in it was a deep red, one that caught the light of the magi-technology lamps nearby. The iron heater that stood in the corner of their room gave off enough warmth to stave off the cold, even if it made him somewhat sleepy.

"They were so nice to give it to us!" Colette occasionally blew into her hands, barely seen mist appearing in the air as she did so. Next to her, their cloaks lay on the backs of chairs, placed as close to the heater as possible. Her cheeks were a flushed red, the cold getting to her - but her smile was so wide, he didn't think he'd seen her this happy recently. 

"Yeah. I guess we have some cups around here…" Lloyd was hesitant though, worried the last time he had drank anything. This was alcohol, wasn't it? Maybe I shouldn't…

"Oh, that's okay, Lloyd. I know I shouldn't drink."

The sureness in her voice was surprising. Too sure. The kind of sureness that Lloyd knew she was covering something else up. "Huh? Why shouldn't you? We're old enough now! Or uh, close enough!" They missed the mark by a few years, but at 18, he felt Colette was allowed at least a sip of wine!

Colette's once bright smile dimmed a bit, clasping those chilly hands of her together. "I was just taught that I shouldn't, you know? It might make me too silly… A Chosen can't-" she stopped, pausing on the word and sighing. "Sorry."

Lloyd instantly saw the problem.

With a flourish, Lloyd went to the glass cups that were set for them on a nearby table, quickly handing one to Colette. "Well now you definitely are!"

"Oh? It's okay, really! I shouldn't have to-"

"Colette, you're not a Chosen, remember? We've been over this." He said so as he struggled to pull out the cork in the wine bottle, even going so far as to plant his foot on a chair to give him more force (and height?) "No matter what people still call you, no matter what anyone says. You're Colette! And you're allowed to do what you want- Ah!" Lloyd finally freed the cork which flew through the air, hitting him square in the forehead. "Ow…"

Colette gasped, but also let slip out a small giggle, the sound soft and airy within the warm inn room. The fire in the heater next to them crackled, warm light illuminating the floors beneath them. "Lloyd…"

"Come on, gimme your cup! We're drinking!" He couldn't help but notice how Zelos-like he sounded, but he hoped it wasn't too weird. "We've worked hard all year for the Exspheres, so it's fine!"

"Mm...okay!" Colette eagerly held out her cup, watching as Lloyd carefully poured the wine into it. The drink sloshed dangerously to the rim, but she adjusted her hold to not spill a drop. She had gotten less clumsy over the years. 

Lloyd remembered when he had simply drunk straight out of the bottle from Dirk's brewery cabinet, and the gruff voice that had pierced his foggy dreams in his hangover. Not this time though! Lloyd figured it was because he didn't drink it out of a cup like he was supposed to. 

Once done, the wine bottle was half-empty, set back down on the table. The glass reflected the falling snow outside, as well as the lights of others that walked past, celebrating the evening with a soft stillness that could only be found here in this snowy place. 

Lloyd grinned, held his cup up and encouraged Colette to do the same. "It does smell kind of weird but it probably tastes okay!"

Colette mimicked him, standing tall, and holding her cup to his, their glass surfaces clinking against the other. "Hehe. Should we share ours? I heard that's what you're supposed to do."

"Oh really? Let's do that!" Lloyd barely questioned it, bringing his own glass to her mouth, watching the way her breath misted in the air. But less now, since it was getting warmer in this room, and so comfortable too. "This works?"

"Yeah! I'll try not to spill!" Even as her very own laughter threatened that, even as her very own feet was close to tripping over his. Their boots were still wet from walking in the knee-deep snow outside, noses numb from the chilly breeze, from the white flakes in the air. But again, he had never seen her happier.

Besides, just one drink shouldn't mess him up too much, should it?

Even as Colette nearly misjudged the angle of her cup against his lips, Lloyd adapted. The wine was warm, a little tingly, and it didn't taste as yummy as he had hoped. But it was so warm, and he could only imagine how Colette must have felt that warmth, contrasting the chill against her cheeks.

He should have been more worried about him messing up, angling the cup too far to let some wine slip down her chin. "Uh oh! Sorry!"

"Ah! L-Lloyd!" Her laughter was light, and she used her free hand to grip his shoulder, fingers creasing the rough fabric of his jacket. 

"Don't worry though, it's free anyway!" And he started to laugh too, just a small chuckle, one that morphed like the slow build of a thunderstorm. But the drink made his chest feel light, and that same warmth traveled all the way down his arms and legs, even to the very tips of his ears. "This stuff … it's pretty good!"

Oh, maybe just even one sip for him was already too much…

"It is good! But, are you okay, Lloyd?" Colette tilted her head, so full of curiosity, as she always was with everything. "You're moving your feet a lot."

"I am?" Lloyd looked down, and what do you know? His feet kept shuffling around a bit, as if he was trying to dance! That was pretty weird. 

"Haha, weird!" And as he looked down, he nearly upended his drink, and doing so as if he was stuck in water, his movements stretched out. 

"Oh, careful!" Colette had to gently take Lloyd's cup from his hand, while also pulling her own back. "Heh, now you're being a bit silly…"

"That bad?" he asked, half-serious. "I wanna be cool, not silly!" But he could hear it in his voice. He was definitely being silly, maybe more than silly. The same familiar fog, pleasant and nice, so nice that he could almost fall asleep to it…

But he didn't sleep. He only kept looking at Colette, who seemed a little giddy herself, though just by a little bit. "You're still really cool, Lloyd."

"I am?" And again, another chuckle left him, tickling his sides. It felt different when she called him cool, even now. It made his heart leap across miles and miles. "I guess I'm also silly too…"

"That's right," Colette said. She took his hands in her own, swaying along with him, as if what he was doing was the most amazing thing and she also wanted to try. "You can be both!"

She still laughed so freely, like she always had. Except...more now. Years before, he'd felt that she would hold back, keeping her voice from being too loud, or holding her hands so close to herself, as if trying to be as small as possible. Sometimes, he'd see her go back to that, to old habits and routines, to all those proper ways of being a Chosen - to be more Chosen-like, like he once said to her.

The room was a bit spinny, and the warmth in his limbs, in his chest, now made it to his head, as if he was being wrapped in a fluffy blanket. It shouldn't be normal to get drunk this fast, should it…?

Oh. That's what Dirk had said to him all those years ago. "Lad, how'd you go and get yourself drunk?" Dirk had been so peeved that his thick accent had slipped, making his words nigh-unintelligible to Lloyd's ears then. 

He was drunk now, and he was falling, almost. Colette still held onto his hands, keeping him steady. He heard the concern there, just as her words trailed through the air. "Lloyd..?"

Even three years later, Colette was still Colette.

Lloyd reached out, arms encircling her close. "Hm...maybe tired. Maybe…" And her arms wrapped around his shoulders, the way she would on those cold nights outside, when their campfire would slowly dim, and they had to find the warmth wherever they could.

"Aw, but it's not even midnight yet." Her sadness was mostly feigned, but there was a hint of it there, just enough. "If you really wanted to sleep, we can."

It was getting too easy to fall asleep, to want that soft fuzziness in his head to surround him completely. But could he resist it? "Hmm...but… it's not midnight yet, you're right! Gotta wake up.. and not have the room spin.."

"Oh, Lloyd." Colette placed a hand over his head, fingers threading through his hair, tangles unfurling at her very touch. Too relaxing, but he didn't want to mention that. "Maybe we should have water to balance out the wine?"

"Mmhmm.." he nodded, but his gaze was caught by the way Colette's hair was framed by the window. Snowflakes continued to drizzle outside, on Flanoir where it was eternally winter. Even in Iselia, snow was so rare, he had mainly just heard of it in class when he could care to pay attention.

Outside it looked so cold still, not unlike the warmth inside, with the heater next to them, and Colette's arms around him like the softest scarf...

Lloyd picked his head up immediately, standing straight. Wait, he knew how to solve this! "We should go outside. Yeah! And…wait… we should go flying! Right now!"

Colette's hand paused in the middle of her hair-stroking, making part of Lloyd a little sad at it's absence. "Are you sure? We just got inside!" Another small space between breaths, spoken carefully. "And your wings…" 

He knew what she meant, deep in the back of his head, in the part where it wasn't drowned out by wine and the dizzying heat he felt when Colette looked at him just so. What he felt for her was solid and real - and so unlike his wings at all. He had rarely used them since the first time, unsure about their reliability. A Rheiard was solid, and his very own feet were more dependable. Heck, even Noishe he could trust to get to where he needed to be.

But sometimes you needed to take a risk, didn't you?

With a grin, he leaned in to kiss Colette, fast and full of rushing feelings that threatened to completely overwhelm him. But in a good way, where his heart was beating so hard and flushing warmth and energy all throughout his body. Colette only made a small little sound of surprise, one felt against his lips before she kissed him back.

It wasn't the first time they had ever kissed, and Lloyd couldn't imagine a time there could be a last. It felt like everything, wrapped into one, his heart so full he was sure it would overflow.

He had felt like this before; something so close to desperation that he would do anything at all to keep it near him. All of it had built, and he had to do something with that intense feeling, to keep it as steady as Colette would do for him.

He leaned back, even as he was reluctant to leave her mouth. Her lips were half-parted, and the mist of her breath was still there, ephemeral like the steam of a hot drink. It made him want to lean again and swallow it up, to take that heat within him.

But he also saw the reflection of a bright blue in her eyes. "Lloyd!"

With that, he knew. Grinning wide, Lloyd reached to open up the window of their inn room. Cold wind rushed forth, instantly waking him up and be grateful for the pricks of ice he felt at his cheeks. "Let's go!"

Behind him, his wings stretched, floating motes of sapphire sprinkling out into the air, dancing with the snowflakes that drifted inside. Colette's hair whipped around her, but she was laughing and smiling too. "Now you really are being silly!"

"I know!" Lloyd grabbed Colette by the hand, one foot already on the windowsill and leading her out. "Let's keep flying until it's the new year!"

"But how will we know?" Yet that didn't stop Colette from following him, already leaning out the window with Lloyd, thin spans of pink leaving her back. 

"Uh...we can guess!" And he didn't want to wait, he didn't want this feeling to end, so he took both her hands, stretched forth his wings, and soared out into the sky with her.

Flanoir was always so deeply covered in snow, and only a few times had he seen it from above in a Rheiard. The city looked like an array of little dollhouses, like the kind his dad would sometimes make for certain commissions. But that was always way high up, not like now, where their wingtips brushed across rooftops, and where they could hear the crunch of snow from people down below.

The air was so cold, and without their cloaks, they were exposed even more to the elements, the snow already damping his hair and jacket. His smile must have been frozen on his face. Maybe even their locked hands were frozen too! 

Colette only held on tighter, not seeming to mind at all. "It's still so cold!" 

"But it's good, isn't it?" Lloyd could only remember that one moment from her, on the way the snow had fallen on her hair, on how she reached out to catch them until they melted against her palm. Though maybe it felt different to having the snow fly against your face instead. 

If other people had noticed them- and how could they not, with the way they laughed and shouted while flying high like excitable birds - he didn't mind. He couldn't, because even as they flew, he could only grasp the joy on her face, on how tightly she gripped his fingers, and how her wings made a pink pattern against the night sky.

...They didn't fly long before Colette pointed out to him. "Look out, Lloyd!"

"Uh!" His wings beat again, making small blizzards around themselves. He swerved around the steeple he had nearly crashed into, feet stumbling onto a snow-and-ice covered roof. 

Then promptly, he fell right on his butt. And then just as promptly, Colette fell right on him, a mass of limbs and wings.

The snow continued to fall, and the air was still so very cold. Lloyd looked up into the night sky, right through the top foremost shape of Colette's right wing. "...Is it midnight yet?" Oh, he was going back to feeling tired.

"Ehe…" Colette giggled softly, sitting up, her cheeks so red, her hair a little ruffled. "There's a clock on one of these buildings. I don't think we're on it though."

Too hard to read clocks...too hard to move. The snow made a nice pillow, in a way.

"Should be able to tell by the stars up there…" he muttered, head laying back on the roof, unmindful to how much snow was sneaking into his jacket collar. "I bet it's already really close."

"Yeah," Colette agreed, her hands reaching out to his face, cold palms pressed against his equally cold cheeks. She was quick to connect with him this way, the natural motion never questioned, never unwanted. "And when it's passed, it means I got to spend a whole year with you."

Lloyd knew then why he felt this way, the sudden rush, the sudden desperation that made him kiss her so deeply and take her flying up into the sky, on wings that he only relied on when he had no choice left.

There was a time when Colette was not supposed to live this long. Still the years kept on growing, and still she was here.

"You always will, Colette," he told her, leaning into her touch. "For a lot more years. A lot more." It was the one real fear he had, but her cold palms that turned warm at the touch of his skin, and the wings that kept her slightly afloat, were all things that were a part of her, all still here. 

Maybe, she remembered too, because her eyes brightened then, catching both violet and azure. Or maybe, it was the wine finally catching up to her, finally unlocking all the little things inside that filled her chest, close to overflowing.

"You promise I will?" she asked him, voice soft. That I can stay by your side?

Lloyd reached out to her, pulled her down, both of them so, so warm against the cold. "I promise."

So strange, to feel so light yet so heavy, to feel the heat in one's skin and yet also a deep chill. But his shiver as he kissed her again, on a slope of a snowy rooftop, was one of warmth instead. The steeple of the church was engraved against the sky, but the stars outnumbered it by so much. 

Their clothes were soaked, and even his wings ached a little. But Colette was all around him and that was enough. I promise you'll stay with me, for every year.

[toshis-puppycat]

Hello Again Part Three

A/n: Ahhh i have no excuse as to why it took me so long with writing, my inspiration was there with part four of Unfortunately but for this one it was *poof* 'I'm gone' and I'm very sorry about that but here is now! Also watch how the next part of this is gonna be short. I'll be embarrassed considering how long this one is lol. Anyways, I hope yall enjoy!!

Summary: You've missed about twenty years with Endeavor and All Might, that's so much to catch up on. Its exciting to see whats been going on! But well... there's always a negative isn't there?

Word Count: 7k (Jesus christ)

Part Three

You found out for sure that you missed about two decades with Toshi and Enji. Or well, you couldn't really call them that anymore. All Might and Endeavor. Their Hero Names. It was so trippy. All Might became the number one hero when he came back from America, which is when he found out you "died". You didn't even want to ask why he wasn't told sooner, hero work was tiresome in the states when he was over there. Endeavor was the number two hero. Now promoted to number one and he had children! And one of them was currently going to U.A. it was all so exciting! And the teachers here now were hilarious. Present Mic was obnoxiously loud, slightly reminded you of a Cockatiel which was kinda funny. Eraserhead or rather Aizawa Shouto was interesting, he was quiet, and seemed to be friends with Present Mic and he had a really fucking cool quirk, and God would it have been useful when you were younger. At that thought it was a little depressing, you missed everything. All those important life events for both Toshi and Enji and- You pushed the thought away, it was nicer to know the teachers you'd mainly be working with. Speaking of that there was one that scared the shit out of you. She was very open about herself, and really how would you say it? Sexy? Alluring? She was very flirty, seeing you look away all flustered apparently had become a favorite pass time of hers. But that didn't matter, because she was one of the first ones willing to jump at saying you could stay at U.A as a Teachers Assistant instead of just being a seemingly random civilian. Being apart of the faculty would be way easier, and with a push from a retired All Might backing you, along with the faculty at U.A itself you were allowed to stay. When you had to inform the parents you were a bundle of nerves. What if they didn't want you here? Was the only thought you had. But when you actually met them and then immediately drenched a pro-hero in water, not just any pro-hero, Endeavor your childhood friend. It was okay though, because one of the parents cackled and said she was completely fine having you stay. Her son apparently had a quirk called explosion which happened to deal with his sweat being able to well… explode, and he is a true hothead. Seeing Enji was jaring at the time but he was a father, his son is currently attending U.A. you didn't know why you were so surprised seeing him. Maybe you were still stuck on when youd last seen him? Falling from that He was just married when you left, and you'd recently found out he had children from All Might, so of course he would attend the meeting. Later when you finally settled for the night, you realized something. Toshi was refusing to be left alone with you the whole day, even when you were literally grabbing at him and trying to hold him. It left an unfamiliar feeling in your gut. You had gotten past some difficult things in your life already, just please let it be this once something would go right. Because despite you being thrown about 20 years into a future which was definatly exciting, you knew something would probably go wrong. You could always feel it, you speculated it was something from your quirk, too much good came with the bad. Healing, water manipulation, being able to turn into a literal mermaid, having your voice enchant people when you sing. There had to be some negative. With you there always was. You knew it was gonna hit you one way or another. No matter how much you hoped it wouldn't.

☆☆☆☆☆

You forgot what it was like having a nightmare. You moved on from your childhood as best as possible, having Enji's help along with having All Might made it so much easier when you were in your own time. You assumed that the only reason it was hitting you now was because you were thrown into the future. Despite the excitement, it was difficult for you to feel okay. You wished you could call Toshi or Enji. But Enji had to patrol tomorrow and Toshi already looked dead on his feet. Plus he was avoiding you, which you supposed was also kind of the trigger for you. That deep rooted worry that you had within yourself. One that always questioned whether or not you deserved to be No, no. Everything… everything would be okay. It had to be okay. It would hurt having it any other way.

☆☆☆☆☆

You decided the night before that you'd ask him, about his life. You had questions that needed answers but all that came out when you saw him was, "Did you ever get married, All Might?" It made sense to ask him sure, but just throwing it out there like some weirdo? But if he wasn't married he could be single. That was the only part your brain focused on. You knew he was a different man now, it would be impossible for him to have not changed in the time you've been gone, but you could still see the one you confessed to, the shocked red faced look, the first kiss... He was just so cute, and it didn't matter to you he was technically older, he made your heart race now just as much as he did then. It was like you were confessing all over again, the butterflies never left.

"No, y/n. I did not get married." He said, giving you a strange look. "Why?" 

"I was just curious." You said, but inside you felt giddy, all of your other questions were forgotten. Not married. For now at least.

☆☆☆☆☆

The next day you were going to work with Aizawa, and you were finally going to meet the newest batch of heros that were trying out for thir provisional license. And you were going to go with them, the principal Nezu had agreed with you when you brought up your concerns about being a hero again. And when you suggested that you take the exam as well, he was all for it. Especially since you'd said that your Hero License had expired years ago. You only missed the first fews day of their continued training, something about them missing the rest of their summer training camp because of a kidnapping, and it made U.A become a boarding school. This was good though, a good distraction.

"Uh Mr. Aizawa? Who's she?" A timid voice called out. It snapped you out of your train of thought. Aizawa gestured for you to introduce yourself. 

"Oh, hi! I'm y/n l/n." You smiled. "Sorry to just drop in on you guys. I'm going to be assisting Mr. Aizawa and the other teachers a part of the hero course from now on." You explained. 

"Why? We are already living on campus." A boy called out. He was a little… stiff, you just smiled at the class. 

"We thought it'd be best if I joined. Principle Nezu already introduced me to your parents." You said. 

"We need to be going now." Aizawa said. The class quickly stood up and began to follow, you lagged behind to make sure everyone could stay together. The student who asked who you were, the one who wondered why you were there and a young girl were in front of you.

"My apologies ma'am! I realized I may have insulted you" He exclaimed, you blinked in response to his excited demeanor. "My name is Tenya, Iida! And these are my fellow classmates Midoryia, Izuku and Ochaco, Uraraka!" He yelled. 

"Iida! You're startling her!" The girl, Ochaco exclaimed, she let out a sigh. "Sorry, he's just very excited that we're working on getting our license." She said. You smiled at the three. 

"We can talk more at gym gamma." You said, gently pushing the trio forward. And you all quickly made your way to the gym to practice. "I remember when I tried for the Provisional Hero License Exam." You stated, musing with the three teens. Midoryia's eyes lit up.

"You took the Provisional Hero Licenses Exam?" He questioned excitedly. You awkwardly smiled at him. 

"Yeah I did, they change it every year though-" you began but he cut you off in an excited tangent. You couldn't make out any of the beginning but you did hear the last part because he yelled it out in his excitement. 

"So that means you have a great quirk for hero work!" He yelled out, unfortunately you were already at the gym, and it echoed a little. You flinched a little, and saw Midnight making her way towards you. 

"Y/n! Come here!" She yelled at you. You gave the three students a polite but awkward goodbye and made your way over to the R-rated hero. "Its good that you came in with them! Getting all acquainted with the students." She purred out, you felt your face heat up in embarrassment. 

"Midnight please don't." Was all you managed to say. 

She gave you a look, then said "Its good you're getting acquainted with them because I have a favor to ask you."

You tilted your head at her. "A favor?"

"Yes! Now- I've already seen the proof so you can't deny it- I need you to do something for an assignment I'm going to be giving these kids." She said. You nodded hesitantly, encouraging her to continue, noticing a slight predatory look in her eye. Wait...proof of? Oh. Oh no. "I'm going to need you to perform a song in front of the class. I already know that voice of yours gets affected by your quirk when you sing so it'll throw'em off guard a little. Let them know that art is everywhere and its amplified by quirks. It'll be a good lesson." She says. You feel your eye twitch a little and sigh. She already knew you did something before, so why not. 

"Okay." You said. Then you started watching the students after they came out in their hero costumes. And they looked amazing! God these kids were going to be great heros, you could feel it. Working with these kids would be a trip.

☆☆☆☆☆

It was four days after you met these wonderful kids that it hit you. Why Toshinori wasn't interacting with you much. It started normally. Him walking in and talking to Aizawa as you happily made your way to the two. Midoryia excitedly told you about his costume upgrades earlier. Braces that were added to reduce the strain on his arms and knee pads that were extended up to his thighs. He was a smart kid, you were glad that he was able to figure out what he needed. You were watching Fumikage work on his special move, "Abyssal Black Body". Dark Shadow covered his form, God these kids were cool. 

"Some of them have finally solidified their fighting styles. And there are those already putting together multiple special moves." Aizawa said, you saw All Might walk towards the area the angry blonde was in, Bakugou. You learned his name quickly a few days prior. You saw him do a form of his special move and at the time you didn't know his name and yelled out the only one you'd heard, which was from Izuku. 

"Good job, Kachaan!" You screamed out, the blonde turned to you furiously, glaring at you.

"Oi, hag don't fucking call me that!" He called out. Four of his classmates were howling with laughter before one of them called out to you and told you that he preferred to be called Bakugou. And apparently you were lucky, because despite being a part of the staff he would've hit you with his quirk if he was angry enough. Explosion. Ah, his mother told you about him when you'd met. You apologized to the snarling blonde, but not before taking away some of his sweat in response. 

"Listen Bakugou, I'm sorry I called you the only name I've heard so far. It won't happen again." You said. It left him sputtering in response at the lack of his quirk. He scowled at you after noticing you essentially holding the sweat away from him. It held no malice though, you could tell that. He was just frustrated most likely, you knew he was the one that was kidnapped. He could probably be scared too. You pushed the thoughts away. You'd ask Aizawa about it later.

You saw him curl one hand into a small circle, and place it in front of his other hand then a bright blast came through, his special move. It blasted a hole through the obstacle that he was practicing on, and you saw it crumble a bit as he screamed about how he did it in excitement. Pure happiness was coming off him in waves. Despite his grouch attitude, you felt yourself smiling. 

"No surprise that young Bakugou is doing well. As usual." You heard All Might say. The wall behind him was crumbling, you saw it and you felt your body moving forward on its own before you knew it, hearing a faint call from Bakugou for All Might to watch out. He was going to get hurt. Toshinori was going to get hurt. Water quickly flowed towards him, to keep him protected from the large rock falling towards him when you saw him. Izuku came in out of nowhere, green lightning surrounding his form as he twisted his body to kick. You saw All Mights face in that moment. An impressed, proud smile on his face that made your heart seize on itself. Like a father looking at his son. Izuku yelled a resounding "Smash!" You felt everything shatter in that moment. 

"You did it kid." All Might said, you weren't sure if Aizawa heard that. But Izuku did, he was smiling widely at him. 

"Hey Aizawa, I completely spaced out on telling Principle Nezu something!" You could hear yourself call out, your cheeks were hurting a bit. You could vaguely feel it and you could barely hear Bakugou calling out to All Might to "watch himself". Aizawa nodded at you, and you made your way to the exit. Toshinori gave you an odd look, before offering to walk you. You gave him a tight lipped smile, and said "Nah, you wanted to watch these kids! I'll get to him safely." You were glad that you didn't have any water surrounding you at the moment. It made it hard to be ignored like you were right now. You asked him if he ever married anyone. You didn't ask if he had any children. And somehow, even though he wasn't with anyone now. It felt like a punch to the gut. He didn't tell you he moved on and had a child. You avoided being near him after that.

☆☆☆☆☆

That night you had to make sure that the girls would be getting ready for bed. You walked towards the common room area and heard a student, you think is Asui "Its not good to force an investigation."

"She's right. More importantly, it's late. We should call it a night." You heard another say, Yaoyorozu you saw her stand up.

The pink girl, Ashido looked absolutely outraged for a moment, and then you noticed Ochaco floating in the air. Hearing Ashido say "Ugh! No! I wanna hear everything!" Made you look at the group that still had their gravity, they were a cute bunch.

"Girls, its getting late. You should be heading to bed now." You said. It shocked all of them into looking in your direction. 

"Ah, yes Y/n sensei!" Yaoyorozu said. You chuckled at the still obvious pout Ashido was giving.

"Ashido, I hope you're not too focused on romance right now. First worry about getting your hero license, then you can worry about romance." You said. She smiled brightly at you. 

"Wait y/n sensei, do you like someone?" She asks. You give an awkward look. But she looked so hopeful you'd say something. 

"Yes, Ashido. But look at that time! You all need to be getting sleep!" You cheered, she pouted again. But she seemed to accept it, the group started walking away.

These kids… are going to be great heros. You looked out the window, and saw Midoryia perfecting his movements, and you felt a small sad smile come up. I'm… I'm really glad he has a son like you Midoryia. You thought, feeling a treacherous tear coming down your cheek and furiously wiped it away. Thankfully, the girls already left for their rooms. Now, you just had to make sure he came in to sleep.

☆☆☆☆☆

Before anyone knew it the day of the exam was here. You went with the class on the bus with your own bag, getting shocked stairs from the students. You shrugged your shoulders and smiled. "What? You think I'm here for moral support? All that practice I did with all of you and you thought I'd just be here as a moral boost?" Only two people didn't jump out of their seats in excitement,  one being Bakugou, which you expected. The other being Todoroki, you figured one didn't care and the other understood you from before. You'd told the class the day before about your previous connections but you guess it didn't click for them that you'd want to be a hero again. 

"Oh man do I have stories about my time here." You said, the students were looking at you eagerly. "It was the first sparing session we had after our internship, and I threw Endeavor on his ass. It was glorious. He was so shocked I did it and it was fueled by pure spite." You explained, Todoroki gave an interesting expression to that. "When our first sparing session happened though it was my favorite, that man really almost lit the surrounding area on fire and I just drenched him in water. He was a lot less everything then he is now, so he kinda looked like a wet rat. Again, glorious moment." You said to the class, they all laughed. It was a good moment with them. 

You noticed that you made it to the building for the test and shook away the memories and just felt excitement. The test was different every year! You couldn't wait to see what they came up with this time around! You could hear the student's mixed reactions, to the few saying they felt nervous to the others saying "I wonder what they're gonna make us do." You sighed, this was going to be fun. 

"If you can pass this test and get your provisional license, then you novice eggs will hatch into chicks. You'll be semi-pros. I expect your best." You heard Aizawa say. "And you," he started turning towards you. "You've done this before. Don't fail."he finished. You beamed at him.

"Don't worry Aizawa! I got this!" You said, voice full of cheer. You could ignore what you learned before, just for today. You could hear Kirishima call out to the class to say their signature catch phrase "Plus Ultra!" When another student caught everyone off guard. Even you jumped a little in response to his enthusiastic "Ultra!" Todoroki only startled a little, recognition barely in his eyes at the other boy.

"Y'know, its pretty rude to barge into other people's huddles like that, Inasa." You heard his classmate say.

"What? Pardon me." He began, body immediately bending forwards in a violent enough manner that he literally bashed his head on the ground. "I am so… very… extremely… sorry!" He yelled. You winced, as Izuku yelled in surprise. 

"Who is this guy? I do not trust his enthusiasm." You heard Kaminari say in panic, you quickly made your way to the other student. Barely paying attention to Aizawa and the others as they recognized the uniforms from the other school. Shiketsu. The school in the western part of Japan. 

"I wanted to say it just once. Plus Ultra!" He yelled, quickly standing tall. "See, I really love UA High School. I am extremely honored to compete against such incredible students. I'm so looking forward to it." He exclaimed, his forehead was bleeding. You ignored Aizawa explaining who he was. Only hearing his name, Inasa Yoarashi.

"Do you need me to heal you, Yoarashi?" You asked him, voice quiet. He looked startled for a moment before some flicker of recognition was in his eyes.

"Its you! Pro-hero Siren!" He yelled out. You winced at the amount of blood that came pouring out from his wound. You didn't bother trying to ignore the other students shock at the name, you registered Kirishima stating your name was so manly. Other than Yoarashi, only Izuku knew who you were it seemed, and he was muttering to himself that he should have known that's who you were. The others were just grateful knowing your hero name it seemed.

"That I did. Now you should get going. Your classmates are waiting." You said calmly. He walked off after thanking you and your students clamored around you.

"Wait, you worked with Todoroki's father? Like, as in not just at UA?" Ashido asked.

"Yes, but it's been, give or take 20 years since I've worked with him. It was decided that I need to re-earn my hero license in order to do hero work." You said, you didn't actually explain you worked with Endeavor. Just that you worked with a now, well known flame hero in school. You heard Kirishima mutter something about "being manly" again and felt very fond all of a sudden, the whole manly spirit reminded you of the man you interned under. "Kirishima, do you happen to be a fan of Crimson Riot?" You asked, and his face lit up.

"Yeah! He's my hero! My name is kinda inspired by his too!" He exclaimed, but another voice interrupted the conversation.

"Eraser?" You heard a voice call out, Aizawa flinched at it. "I'd know that scowl anywhere!" You looked over to see a light green haired woman, smiling and waving, walking over to the class, mainly Aizawa though. "I saw you on TV at the Sports Festival. But its been a while since we were this close in person." She said, Aizawas eye twitched in annoyance. 

"She looks familiar." You heard Izuku say.

"Let's get married." The woman says smiling and gesturing between herself and Aizawa. 

"No." Deadpan expression and all. You hear Ashido squeak in disappointment, and can practically see the little hearts around her break. 

The woman bent over laughing in joy and say, "Ha, ha! You're a real laugh-riot, buddy." 

"As usual, you're impossible, Joke." Aizawa said, as the woman continued laughing. 

Izuku exclaimed in surprise, "Oh, thats Ms. Joke! The smile hero! Her quirk is outburst!" He had a wide smile on his face, and you had to look away for a second. He was quite literally the physical embodiment of sunshine. Just like someone else you knew. You could hear him explain her quirk and it made you snap out of your revere. "She forces people around her to laugh, which affects their ability to think and keeps them from being able to move. Her fights against villains are always full of insanity!" He exclaimed.

"Come on, imagine it! If I was your wife, you'd have a future full of constant laughter." She said.

"That sounds like an actual nightmare." Aizawa stated, she burst out laughing again. As the class contemplated their closeness, she gave an explanation, "Our agencies were near each other. As young heros striving to make a difference in the world, a mutual love bloomed." She said, clasping her hands together and blushing. 

"No, it didn't." Ouch, instant rejection. But she didn't seem to notice it.

"I do miss your quick retorts." She said, pointing at him before placing her hands on her hips and continuing, "You're my favorite person to tease, future husband." She smiled, Aizawa closed his eyes.

"So, Joke. If you're here, then that must mean…"

"That's right. Over here, everyone. This is UA." She called out to a class just behind her.

One student exclaimed in fake wonder at the students and you as the others were genuinely happy.

"Oh, whoa. It really is Class A!" 

"Wow, that's so amazing. I've seen them on TV before." 

"Second years from Ketsubutsu Academy. This is Class 2. They're my students." She said happily. 

You saw a student of hers grab Izuku's hand. "Hey, I'm Shindo! Seems like UA's has a lotta trouble this year, musta been tough for you." He said, smiling. 

"Uh, yeah." Izuku awkwardly said, Shindo moved on, grasping the other student's hands and continued. 

"But even so, you're all still aiming to become pro-heros, despite those hardships. It's wonderful! Hearts full of fortitude." He said, smiling, looking like the perfect pretty boy image. "I believe that's whatever hero in the world needs to have." He was sparkling and you saw some of the girls in the class begin to fawn over him a little. You could practically hear Izuku think that this kid was "too nice" nope. "And Bakugou. It must've been hard for you, what with that whole kidnapping incident." You did a double take at that. It didnt matter that you already knew he was kidnapped, it was still jaring.

"Huh?" Bakugou responded.

"You have an especially strong will, don't you? Today, I'm going to do my best to learn from you. I really hope you don't mind." He said, attempting to shake his hand. Bakugou slapped it away.

"Stop pretending. What you say doesn't match the look in your eyes." He said, turning away from the other boy. You saw that flash of anger in the other students eyes. Good. Bakugou could see it, a valuable skill. 

"Hey, man, don't be so rude!" Kirishima exclaimed. "Sorry, he's just like that." He finished, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head and looking bashful. 

"Its fine. It proves how tough his heart is." Shindo said, Bakugou scoffed at that. Another classmate of his ran up to Todoroki, asking for his autograph, to which he said, 

"Uhh…"

Another student just told her to stop fangirling. Minoru said hed be happy to sign something for the girl, she ignored him. A good idea.

"Hey. Get your costumes and head to orientation. There's no time to waste." Aizawa said, a resounding "yes, sir" from the class made you follow close behind him, holding your bag close. You heard Kaminari brag about being apart of a famous elite school, and winced. Man, did this kid forget everyone knew their quirks and they didn't know anything about anyone else? You all quickly made your way inside and changed. It was time for the exam. 

☆☆☆☆☆

You heard a groan, then "Okay then. Let's do this exam thing. I'm from, uh, the Heroes Public Safety Commission. Name's Mera. My Circadian Rhythm is so screwed up." He moaned out. "Ah, man." Damn he looked dead on his feet. "I've been swamped lately and I haven't gotten much rest. We're too short staffed. I'm so tired." He said, laying his head on his hand. "With that confession. I'll now begin orientation." You looked over at the students. Midoryia, Tenya and Ochaco looked a little worried for the man. Probably thinking he needs a break. "So, about the content of this license thing. Basically 1,540 examinees compete in a free-for-all exercise or whatever we're calling it this year." Mera said. You could hear Hanta complaining about the lack of information. But Mera continued, "See. We've got a lot of pros around, and since Stain was arrested, many people've expressed doubts about the status of heros in society." You winced, vaguely recalling what Toshinori told you about Stain's convictions before you started avoiding him. "But, when you really think about it, getting paid makes sense. If you're going to risk your life to save someone, why shouldn't you ask for a reward, huh? That's just the way the world works. God, I could use a coffee. Anyway, whether they're in it for compensation or out of a sense of duty, we've got too many beros working together in the streets these days to keep villains at bay. Honestly, the time between an incident begins and when it's resolved is ridiculously short. You are all here trying to receive your provisional licenses, minus one, who is renewing theirs. So you'll be swept up in this tiresome mess yourselves pretty soon." Almost everyone startled at the "minus one" part of his speech, the exception being the students of class 1-A along with Yoarashi, you almost groaned. "Those of you who don't have the speed, frankly, just won't cut it." He said looking down. "Which is why that's what you'll be tested on." He said looking up at the crowd. A board flashed on behind him showing 'Number to Pass 1st Test: 100 people' "The first 100 students to fulfill the requirements will pass today." You could hear Yaoyorozu exclaim how many students there currently were. You could feel their nervousness now. 

"You will do great. Don't panic about it." You said, voice quiet out of respect for Mera. They all looked over at you. You gave them a reassuring smile. "I believe in you guys."

"Well, the world can be pretty crappy. I suppose I should say something about luck." Mera said, still slouched over but standing. "So, anyway, here are the basic rules." He showed the everyone how the first test would proceed, explaining how you all would put on targets and they would have to be in an exposed area, and said each participant would have six balls made for this task so they could strike out the opponents. If all three targets are hit, they'd be out and to pass they had to take out two people. They passed out the materials and opened the arena. Talking about how they were sure that they all had an area where their quirks would work best. You looked over to the stands and saw Aizawa sitting with Ms. Joke. He looked so agitated, unfortunate for him. You quickly put on the three targets and grabbed your six balls. You weren't going to fail this. It simply wasn't an option. 

"Everyone!" Izuku exclaimed, "Stay close together. We'll fight them as a group." Ochaco nodded and Tenya said "got it." You smiled. Good. These kids would do fine. Bakugou left immediately, Kirishima and Kaminari running behind him. 

"I'm going on my own, too." Todoroki said. "Its hard for me to use my power safely when a big group's around." He ran off. Izuku quickly attempting to dissuade him. But you quickly followed behind him.

"Don't worry kids. I got him. He'll be fine!" You yelled, quickly catching up to the duel haired boy. "Todoroki! I can help you with controlling your fire!" You called out. He kept running ahead. "I know you might have a problem with me Todoroki, but I can help a little with your fire." You said, he slowed down to a stop, enough for you to catch up. He gave you an odd look.

"Water quirk, correct?" He asked. 

"Yes." 

"Thank you. For offering, I'll accept for now." He said. And you both began running again. Quickly coming to a steel labyrinth like arena. 

"So Todoroki, whats it like being related to that old man?" You asked, he startled, gave you a deadpan expression.

"Terrible." Was all he said in response, but it was the look in his eye that made you falter. You'd seen a look like that before. On Endeavor's face when you were young, and on your own before you were able to leave your own home situation. You didn’t joke with him about it again. Before either of you knew it, you both could hear that over 50 students have already passed and that 50 failed. It forced the two of you to move into action quickly. You two ran from the hiding spot you were in. 

"Todoroki look out!" You yelled, he quickly blocked the ball that was thrown at him, you did the same for the one thrown at you. Quickly slowing it down with water around you. 

"That was pretty good!" A student yelled, they were from Seijin. "Just what I'd expect from a runner-up of the UA Sports Festival. Not sure what to expect from you though." He said gesturing to you. Ten students, more than enough for the two of you. "The name's Todoroki, right?" He asked looking at the younger boy. You narrowed your eyes. "I can't believe you two are running around here like this, all by yourselves. You both must be really confident."

"Even if you both are from UA High, acting like this is just asking for trouble." Another student says.

"A ten-on-two fight. You two don't stand a chance!" Another yells out. You gave a look to Todoroki. 

"This is great." He said, turning to you. "Now we don't have to find opponents." He turned slightly and raised his right arm over to his face. You turned as well, left arm protecting your own face. 

The main Seijin student chucked. "Aren't you two cool." He says, then all of them are rushing you, balls flying in your direction. Todoroki uses the ice aspect of his quirk to block them while you do the same with your water. Then he quickly freezes their feet to the ground, also using the extra water you provided from your quirk. The other students gasp. Quickly exclaiming their outrage at being unable to move.

"You're surprised? I thought you said you watched the sports festival." Todoroki said, you smirked. 

"I am kind of an unknown though, Todoroki. They didn't know you could use my water." You said. The students were obviously scowling at you two, glaring. 

"Don't be cocky, were prepared!" The leader exclaimed, throwing something at you two, it quickly grew in size and you used your quirk to help Todoroki block the now giant object. You two gave each other a look. 'A quirk that makes things bigger.' "That's not all I brought with me!" He yelled again, throwing more objects. Todoroki's ice seemed to be at least a little stronger as you provided more water for him. You could see him question himself for a moment, contemplating. He turned to give you a look that said "wait to see if there are more." You nodded at him. Then the ice cover shattered, and you both saw a projectile coming toward you. He quickly fired at it, but it didn't stop. You were able to move him and yourself out of the way. The other student quickly escaped the ice trap Todoroki put him in. "Your fire won't work against any of my tools. Tungsten has a super-high melting point!" He yelled out, quickly throwing smaller projectiles at the feet of his allies. "I'm afraid I told you so, Todoroki. And you. Even if you two are the top UA students, if you think you can pass this exam with such a little group… Well, then, your pride will be your downfalls." He said, staring the two of you down.

"You fools." Todoroki said quickly aiming fire at the group. 

"Do it!" The other student yelled, two others jumped up and aimed at you two. Water based quirks, damn. You quickly created a barrier between you two using the water they provided to strengthen the flow covering you and Todoroki. You two jumped out of the way at the projectiles being thrown. "Keep attacking. Don't let up!" He yelled again. You two manage to get away, as steam filled the area as his flames met the water of the other students. You were both running, and he turned towards you.

"The Heroes Public Safety Commission must have constructed this factory to be as realistic as possible." He said. You nodded at him.

"Its why they told us to choose a terrain that would suit our style." You responded. He nodded in agreement. Then quickly held a flame. You two were on the same page then. You could hear the other student yell that you were found and to be surround by his allies. Todoroki quickly bend down, placing his palm on the ground and creating ice shards upwards towards a tank, he burst it and you two quickly made your way to a higher point and saw the other students shocked faces. Todoroki then aimed at the tank with ice piercing it and proceeded to light it on fire, as you two hid behind an ice barrier he created to not be blown away as the other screamed. 

"Well it looks like the commission kept the force of the explosion from being too damaging." Todoroki said as you two came out from the smoke. 

"You bastards."

"Apologies. But I simply cannot afford to fail." Todoroki said. You nodded in agreement.

"I really do wanna get back to hero work." You said simply. Their eyes widened.

"Its you! You're the one thats not just getting your provisional license!" One of them shouted, you smiled. 

"Yeah, I wish he didn't say that but it's alright." You said, grabbing a ball walking over to one of the other students quickly catching at least three of the students. "I believe you guys will be great heroes though. You all have got some seriously strong quirks!" You exclaimed as Todoroki quickly got his own points. "Just make sure to plan for something like that, just in case." You called out. Walking away with Todoroki. You could tell he was contemplating his quirk, probably thinking he should work to using both at once with more ease. You heard a beep and looked down at the area you put the targets.

"Students who have passed the exam should congregate in the anteroom. Chop, chop." The announcers' voice yelled out. You two quickly made your way to the waiting area. You saw the excitable student from earlier look over when you and Todoroki walked in. Though he was focusing more on Todoroki, you saw him glaring. It almost shocked you, but you already assumed from the look he gave earlier, that he didn't like Todoroki at all. You looked at the younger duel haired boy. 

"So Todoroki, the problem?" You asked, he looked slightly shocked. 

"You know the problem." He stated simply, you shot him a confused look.

"I obviously don't. If its something from before, I haven't been here for around 20 years, kid. It's kind of hard to keep up with grievances if I wasn't there." You said. He gave you a steady gaze. 

"My father, was not good to me. Nor to my siblings. I… don't wish to blame you. He's not a good man. But hearing you speak about him in such a manner. It's insulting to hear you say he's a good man." He states, he looks frustrated for a moment and you feel your heart soften,.

"Todoroki… the man that I knew, he was a good man. And if he's been acting like that..." You began, placing your hand on his shoulder before sighing, "We can have a further discussion after the exam about this, it'll be easier." He nodded in response.

"I'll be waiting then." He said. You gave your own nod before walking away, you really needed to rehydrate and eat something. This was going to be a long exam. 

☆☆☆☆☆

You found out all the students from Class 1-A passed when you met up with them. Exclaiming your own pride at the students. They all grinned widely. "I'm proud of you kids!" You said. Izuku, Kaminari and Minoru were talking to each other. 

"Oh, right. For the 100 of you who passed the first test, please turn your attention to the screen." You heard Mera say from the speakers. Everyone turned to face the screen. It showed different parts of the arena being destroyed. They all gasped in shock. "There's only one more round to the exam. Your goal is simple: undertake rescue exercises and save the bystanders who are trapped in these disaster sites."

"A rescue mission." Izuku says, his eyes taking on a determined look. You tried to ignore it. But he really did remind you of Toshinori in that moment, and you felt the sharp sting in your heart. Damn it. Ignore for now. You thought. He moved on, what did you expect after being gone for over 20 years? You shot another look in his direction. Izuku's mother… was a very lucky woman. 

"Use this time to show us how you will carry out successful rescue procedures once you receive your provisional licenses, again minus the one renewing theirs." He continued. "Treat this as though it were the real thing."

The students looking at the screen suddenly looked very shocked. 

"On the screen."

A gasp, "Little kids and old people?"

"That's so dangerous- why are they here?" 

Mera continued on, "These specialists have been trained as profesional "persons in need of rescue" they're very popular. Introducing the "Help Us Company," also known as HUC for short."

"So they're basically actors, I guess?" Sero questioned. You looked over and nodded in affirmation. 

"Its the kind of job you never think about." Tsuyu says.

"But a necessary one in our world, since they support our hero training." Mashirao finishes. You smiled. These kids… God how many times would you think this? They were going to be great heroes. 

"The HUC bystanders have dressed up like injured victims and will be located throughout the disaster site. We'll be judging how well you keep them safe as you go about your mission. Oh, by the way. We'll be scoring you on a point system. If you gave more points than the benchmark at the time the exercise comes to an end, then you pass the exam. We'll start in 10 minutes. Take care of any necessary preparations now." Mera finished. You could barely hear the conversation between Izuku and Tenya, them comparing the damage being shown to the one in Kamino Ward. Where All Might fought All for One for the last time. You didn’t know much about All for One, all you knew was that he was the one to send the villain that attacked that day, that he planned your demise. It was confusing though. Why did he want to kill you? At the time he was nothing more than the boogeyman of the hero world. You had no connection to him prior to that besides Toshinori, but even then no real reason to kill you. Maybe I should meet with that detective that found me after this.' You thought. 'I've been putting it off too long already. I'm going to find you Kotaro. I'm sorry I took so long.

☆☆☆☆☆

The exam was exhausting, way more exhausting than you remembered. But you supposed that was because you were bordering on being sleep deprived and running on nothing but your own willpower. And maybe a little spite but you're not really sure where that could be from so you just ignore it. You saw the students of U.A. interact with the other top school, you interacted with a rather... interesting young girl from there as well. Apparently she talked with Izuku and well Minoru and Kaminari didn't like that for some odd reason, neither did Uraraka but you could see why at this point. Her crush, was rather cute. As the test continued on you only felt pride, these students. They were doing well, saving the civilians from the wreckage, although Izuku no Deku had experienced a little speed bump in the beginning. You offered your healing expertise with the triage area, assessing the 'injuries' of the HUC. Then they threw all of them in for a loop. Villains. Not real ones of course but acting Villains. You quickly ensured that the others were able to collect the supplies and 'victims', following Shindo and quickly dealing with the sidekicks. But then you saw Gang Orca, the screech was jarring, it made you unsteady. So, you couldn't imagine how Shindo was feeling. He must have been paralyzed because you couldn't see him moving, he looked like he was knocked out too. You heard Deku yell out Todoroki's name and felt some relief, Gang Orca needed to stay well hydrated and Todoroki's quirk was perfect for this fight to dry him out. Then you saw the other students Ashido,Ojiro, and Tokoyami. You were glad for the extra help, but then you felt the wind pick up in the area.

"I'm gonna blow you evildoers away!" You heard Yoarashi yell.

It didn't matter at the moment, you had to evacuate these people from the area, you had to protect them.

☆☆☆☆☆

Taglist: @saratour, @yukiimanic, @theygottheircages, @itsallmightbitch, @toobsessedsstuff, @quirkyfandoms, @anxious-cat-with-cheesesticks, @traqicalromance, @waitwhatsrealityagain

[black-quadrant]

at long last, i give you chapter 2 of my demon AU! not as thrilling as chapter 1, unless you like a bunch of exposition! we’ll get to the juicy stuff soon enough. thanks for the interest and motivation to build out this AU!

He could have sworn he hadn’t consumed a drop of alcohol last night. Even a skeptic like him could assume spirits and real spirits would mix as well as oil and water, but ultimately he was staying sober for his friends in case they got themselves into some kind of actual real living trouble beyond their impulsivity to raise the dead, or... whatever.

So why did he feel completely hung the fuck over? Every muscle in his body ached, even ones he didn’t know he had, or hadn’t used since he was forced to play team sports in school (those were the days... not).

Nevertheless, he peeled himself out of bed, bracing himself for the morni-- er, afternoon. After... noon? With a soul-deep groan, Neku dragged himself into the shower, using that time to scavenge his memories of last night, picking up every mental fragment until he'd reached the end of the evening, where he crashed into bed. And the next conscious anything was a disturbingly vivid dream about being assaulted in said bed by what vaguely looked to be an arguably pretty boy packing a full set of gnashing teeth and ultraviolet whorls for eyes. The kind of nightmare vision appeal that made you hard for danger, the kind of unnerving midnight visitor that people wished would steal in and violate them in the comfort of their own room. And what followed... that made Neku stop everything, and crank the shower dial to blast himself with ice water.

He did not have time to indulge sordid fantasies. That was a hell of a dream though; he couldn’t recall the last time he’d dreamt so vividly. He’d have to... circle back around to that one later.

Right now he needed to rejoin society, and hopefully the flood of city stimuli will dilute and filter out this undercurrent of indistinct eeriness.

A cup of coffee was a good start. That, and an apology, both for bailing on his friends, and for, well, his friends. Taking to the streets, armed with his headphones (he never left home without them), he cranked up the volume until he could no longer hear Shibuya and meandered the all too familiar path to Wildkat Cafe.

He’s taking a gamble here at the shop being open, as it’s known for its proprietor’s inconsistent (putting it lightly) hours, but he’s in luck; it’s open, and Mr. H, upon spotting him, waved him in.

“’Ey, Phones!” He didn’t need hear him to read his lips and know he’s greeting him by his exasperating nickname. He used to think Mr. H simply forgot his name, but after countless attempts to try to replace it with his actual name, and even going without his headphones for a week to train him out of it, he’d resigned himself to his unchanging fate. But such was the nature of nicknames, right? You don’t always want them.

“Hey, Mr. H.” Draping said `phones’ around his neck, Neku strolled in, making his way to the counter where the barista was stationed, currently cleaning down the counter. “I, uh... wanted to say sorry for last night. I--”

Neku paused abruptly as a shadow fell over Hanekoma’s expression, smothering the air of congeniality he had about him. It’s the first time Neku’s ever seen him look so aggravated. It’s not until Hanekoma spoke that he realized he was staring past him.

“Does he know you’re stalking him, J?”

“You’re always ruining my fun, Mr. H.”

Neku spun toward the source of the undeniably snide tone, finding himself gawking at the face that starred in his tawdry dream last night.

“Hello, Neku.” He smiled with normal human teeth. A small comfort.

“... what the fuck?! Where did you come from? There was no one here a second ago.” Neku cast Hanekoma a wide-eyed glance full of disbelief. “...was there?”

Hanekoma barked out a laugh and shook his head.

“Who the fuck is this? Why do you know my name?” Something deeply, disturbingly intuitive Neku refused to acknowledge told him he knew the answer.

“I’m hurt. We met just last night.” It’s then that Neku noticed the petite violet horns seated atop that fluffy head. They couldn’t be bigger than two inches. It’s not like it’s out of place for the season, but it’s a bit too campy for Neku’s taste. Just as he was about to mock them, something brushed his arm.

A legitimate demon tail, complete with spade tip.

“Seriously? You’re wearing that out in public?” He swatted it away, eliciting a squeak of alarm from the little weirdo.

“Gentle. It’s not a costume prop.”

Neku backed himself up to the counter, again looking to the barista for help.

“You know damn well you’re not supposed to be in the RG.” He regarded said little weirdo with such familiarity that he was chastising him. RG? Too much is happening at once. Neku slammed a hand on the counter. "Hello?? I did not meet you, not last night or ever.”

The blonde simply smirked.

“Joshua... that ring a bell?”

The name, combined with his tone, struck him like lightning, and all at once the image flashed back into his mind. Horrorterror teeth, clawed hands, unmistakeable purple eyes--

“...holy shit.”

“There’s nothin’ holy ‘bout him--”

“Mr. H, would you like me to spill your secrets?”

“Which one?” The barista countered with a grin, and Neku literally and figuratively stepped out of their crossfire and snatched Joshua by a horn, cringing at discovering that it’s fixed to his skull. Joshua hissed, but didn’t move.

“Tell me now.”

“Don’t you remember? Your friends didn’t close the door. But don’t worry, I closed it behind me.” Neku released his grip and took a step back, finally understanding. It wasn’t a fever dream. Wasn’t even a normal dream. It had happened, it--

“You were in my bedroom--” Neku’s face went beet red. Joshua giggled knowingly.

“No, we didn’t do that. That was me feeding you some... prospects. Or perhaps it was a premonition?”

“You’re fucking gross.”

“Anyway,” Hanekoma interjected, “Joshua here is, I guess what you would call a demon.” Joshua huffed at being outed.

“This,” Neku gestured vaguely at the `boy’ “is not what I saw last night. Last night I would believe what I saw was indeed a demon. This is just a campy ruse.”

“Well, technically, you’re spot on.” Joshua affirmed, his sinuously long, slender tail swaying behind him, not unlike a cat’s. “Clearly you’re not a demon enthusiast or you’d know that we can take human shape, so that we can walk among you...” Joshua slunk over to the counter, tapping an empty mug in a silent entreaty for coffee. “Just like angels...right, Mr. H?” Hanekoma ignored him for the espresso machine.

“... okay... okay, okay, this has crossed over from fucking weird to goddamn cursed. I have so many questions I don’t even want the answers to, but I’ll summarize all of them: what do you want?”

Joshua, leaning casually against the counter, turned to Neku with a delighted grin.

“You. I like you. You’re a one in a million find in this city.” Behind the counter, brewing Joshua’s cup, Hanekoma scoffed. “You’re sensitive on an energetic level. I’d like us to spend some quality time... and I have been so bored. I was drawn to you because I can see you are bored, too.”

Neku opened his mouth to protest, but he instantly thought better of it. He’s not sure how Joshua could smell the utter ennui on him, but he’d chalk it up to Demonic Shit because he was getting a massive headache from information overload.

“As fun as hanging out with you and being tormented at night sounds, I’ll pass. I’ve got a life to live that I’m not going to piss away entertaining a demon masquerading as a human. The horns and tail are doing nothing for you human passing, by the way.”

“You want to send me back then, Neku? Do you even know how?” This motherfucker. Neku grit his teeth, biting back the urge to slap the pretty off his face.

“Besides, you won’t even see me during the day. I’ll make myself absent to the eyes.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I can hop between... dimensions. We’ll say dimensions. You won’t even know I’m there.”

“So you can stalk me some more?”

“Alright, boys, simmer down. `I’ll make your cup a’joes for the road, an’ you can go out an’ get acquainted.”

“You’re not off the hook.” Neku said sharply. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet about this the whole time. Obviously you two are acquainted. What is your relationship to this little cryptid?”

“I’ll tell ya all ‘bout it later, Phones. You have my word.” He pushed the cups forward. “On the house.” Hanekoma never offered free coffee. This did not bode well for Neku, who could tell he’d have to put up with a pet demon until he learned how to slam dunk him back to his own dimension.

“...fine. Are you gonna put away the costume props?”

“No one but you will see my very real extensions of myself. There’s my compromise.”

Neku rolled his eyes.

“You have to get the hell out of here if I go see my friends. I am not explaining you. That’s my compromise.”

“Brr... so cold.” Joshua cozied up to Neku’s side, clearly intent on testing his boundaries (and his wrath). “Take me out to lunch, and I will tell you anything you want to know.”

“I can’t believe this...”

Those purple eyes, for a split second, flare with the glow of last night.

“Oh, Neku... you will. You will.”

[goddamnitkastle]

This Is The New Year

Here it is! My complete #KastleChristmas gift for @fortysevenswrites! 

I present a Kastle NYE fic.

Enjoy!

This black tie might as well be a goddamn noose. Frank is relieved to see the Welcome to New Jersey sign, it means he’s almost back to the cabin. Back to Karen, who definitely has cabin fever and it is something fierce.

”I’m not gonna keep repeating myself here. You are not coming with me, end of...” Frank exasperates.

“I just don’t understand why I still have to stay here if today is the day...” Karen retorts. “Come on Karen, Todd directly targeted you. Even Mahoney recommended that you get out of the city for your own safety until the trial is over and he is put away...” “Yeah but I doubt he would’ve been okay with you as my protection.” Karen says stubbornly. Frank sighs and is about to dig his heals in metaphorically until she sees reason but he is not the best multitasker. He can’t keep arguing with her and get this stupid tie to cooperate. He hears her footsteps on the hardwood floor and he knows she’s standing in the doorway of his bedroom. “Here, let me help.” Karen finally offers after struggling with it for what felt like an eternity. She turns him away from the dresser mirror. Frank drops his hands in defeat and accepts her help. “I swear I will give anything if I could wear my uniform for these kind of things and never deal with ties again for as long as I live.” They both laugh and fall into silence while Karen does his tie. She is done before he even blinks and any irritation he had felt toward her before has completely disappeared. “You would, uh, do this for your brother?” The question sits in their space and despite there being no secrets between them now Frank can’t help but feel like he’s rubbing salt into the wound. “Yes. Matt asked me the same thing once. Not the same exact question but he wondered how I knew how to... I spoke of Kevin to him like he was still alive.” Her brow furrows as she pulls the knot of the tie even closer to the collar of his shirt. He doesn’t even feel it.

“And he still is. In a way. We’ll... talk and it feels like he’s right next to me.” “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have...” “It’s okay, Frank. Go to Todd’s sentencing.” “Aren’t you coming with me?” Frank cracks. “No. You and Mahoney are right and if I don't let you go now you'll miss it. Hopefully he will be going away for a long time and I can get out of this cabin.” She smooths his tie down and leaves him in his room.

Todd was sentenced today. Twenty years to life and no early parole for five overdose deaths and for drug trafficking along the entire Northeast for years. At least he can bring that good news to Karen. She can end this bullshit year on a good note. He pulls up to the cabin. As he turns off the SUV Turk loaned him, he sees the front door open and Karen step out onto the porch. Yeah, that cabin fever is fucking bad. She’s practically a bundle of nerves when he approaches her, her hands furiously rubbing together and he knows it’s not to keep warm in these dropping, late December temperatures. “Well?” He tells her. She remains neutral, there’s no hint of relief or sadness from her and it throws Frank off. “Okay.” “He’s gone now, Karen. We can go back tonight if you want.” Karen nods but her eyes are focused elsewhere. Like they’re focusing on the tree next to the cabin but he knows she’s not. “Karen?” “Yeah?” “You okay?” “Yeah, it’s just... I can’t...” “Look Karen, if you’re worried that he’ll get parole or get released for good behavior and come after you... I won’t let that happen.” “It’s not that Frank...” “I could take care of him for you.” Karen finally looks at him, a half smile on her lips. She’s trying to convey that she finds his statement absurd but instead it comes across as contented reassurance. Of course she knows he would and he would do it his way. There’s no doubt in her mind and Frank can see that. “Not this time Frank.” She says after a long pause. “He’s a piece of shit, Karen. Hurt a lot of people, hurt you Karen...” “Frank...” “You were in a vulnerable place and that asshole took advantage of that...” “Frank I was nineteen. Todd was there for me. And I wasn’t... right or good or anything worth...” “Stop, stop, stop...” “Why Frank? Don’t want to hear how I was a teen drug fiend stuck in the mountains?” “You know it’s not that, Karen.” Frank says with intense assuredness. “Then what is it?” “He threatened Kevin.” The smile is gone now. He knows he’s crossed the imaginary red tape with her. Stuck an awful moment in her face like she stuck that picture of his family in his face at the hospital. But just like how she was trying to remind him that the truth was worth fighting for, he wants to remind her that she is better than her past. “Almost killed him too. How can you even begin to...” “Enough, Frank. He was a part of my life and I will always be connected to him. I won’t be able to shake that. But he’s gone now and I just want to move on. Let’s hope our paths won’t ever cross with him again.” He closes his mouth. He wonders if this is how Karen feels every time they’re together, like his heart is going to burst from this swirl of feelings. These ingredients of longing and worry and awe that such a person could even be real... he can feel himself spiraling. “Come on. It’s too cold to stay out here. And I’m sure you want to get out of that suit.” His hand immediately goes to the knot of the black tie he has on and away from his racing thoughts. Frank actually managed to forget the noose feeling for a minute there. He smooths the tie down even though he knows he doesn’t need to. “It’s not that bad.” He mutters. “Yeah, right.” Karen scoffs as she crosses to him. Why she’s out on the porch in that thin, green sweater he can’t even... “You’ve been waiting to take this damn suit off and never wear it again as much as I’ve been wanting to get out of this godforsaken cabin.” She’s close now. Cinnamon hangs in the air. He doesn’t remember there being cinnamon in the cabin when they first arrived. “Can I take this off for you, Frank?” He swallows the golf ball sized lump in his throat and nods just a little too aggressively. Why does this feel like such a big deal? It’s just a tie and yes, it has been the bane of his existence... His mind stops running as she lifts his collar up and her fingertips brush he cheeks. Karen never took her time with his tie before. What is she... She goes to work on untying the knot. She shimmies the knot back and forth and starts pulling from the top of the knot and the fabric makes that sound when it’s pulled through. He usually ignores it but it’s all he can hear. That and their shared breathing. “There.” Karen says with quiet content. She holds the undone tie in her palms. “We should get this inside before it wrinkles...” “Jesus forget the tie, Karen.” He reaches for her, gets her head between his hands. The tie is now clenched in her hands. “You don’t have to hide from me Karen.” “I’m not hiding.” “Yes you are. You think I have this... perfect... angel... vision if you in my head. I don’t. I just have you. And it’s all I need. When I came up the steps here just now... it felt like coming home.” His hands fall to her neck, his fingertip brushing the mole that’s there. Her lips tremble and he can’t help but brush them with his thumb. “Look... uh, we can talk inside, you said yourself it’s cold...” Frank stammers out. “I’m not cold.” She closes the distance between them and it’s that easy. That easy to slant his mouth over hers. To wrap his arms around her, to open his mouth to let her tongue in. He doesn’t remember why he pushed her away before and he doesn’t want to anymore. Not after this. Even as they try to warm themselves with the little heat that is left inside them it becomes clear that the cold is going to force them inside. They break apart and Karen is flushed red. “Can we please go in? This fucking suit is really...” Frank admits sheepishly.

“Come on.” Karen replies with a hunger that floors him. She takes him inside by the wrists and he realizes that she is still holding onto that damn tie. In that moment he realizes it’s in prelude of what’s to come. He follows, in matching hunger.

... They spend all day New Year’s Eve in bed. That tie is wrapped around one of iron headboard posts and has been long forgotten (for now). It’s definitely not the worst way to ring in the new year and Frank certainly wouldn’t trade it for any of his past ones. But as the sun sets there’s still a small twinge of guilt because, well, they should really get out and go put on the TV or something. Or at least grab an alcoholic beverage, do a toast at least. But that would mean letting her go. Putting clothes on. Leaving the warmth of the bed. For a tradition signifying the passing of time. It felt so dumb just even thinking of doing that. “I can feel your mind running from over here.” She murmurs into his chest. He tilts his head to look down at her while she readjusts her position so that she is propped on her forearms while her hands stay on her chest. “Shouldn’t we... uh...” “You think we shouldn’t count down to midnight naked in bed, do you?” Frank frowns but nods in response. “Well fine. If that’s what you want. I have to pee actually.” She kisses his cheek, gets out of the bed, and heads to the bathroom. Frank knows he’s leering but goddamn, how could he not? Especially when Karen looks like that? Naked!? She flips on the bathroom light but doesn’t go to close the door. Instead she turns, and stares him down. Any shame Karen had before about any aspect of her life she is definitely not carrying it now. “Wanna go for round two?” She proposes. “Well technically it’d be round four...” “Oh my God Frank just get...” He’s bounds to her before she can get the rest of her sentence out and grabs her by the waist. He props her on the sink and is about to add a second hickey to her neck when she stops him. He lets out a frustrated grunt but he keeps his distance. “Happy New Year, Frank.” “Happy New Year, Karen.” Even though the new year is still hours away, Frank did not care. They were both here. Alive. And past all the bullshit that was keeping them apart. And Karen can take what is left of him, have all the rest of it. He swears it to her as he kicks the door closed.

[hot-wiings]

Requested By: Wattpad User 

Tip Jar

[Edited: 11-18-19]

"Hey! That's pretty good!" "Wha-! No one asked you!" I've got myself just a little bit of love. That I wanna spend on you. But baby, I'll never get that chance. To dance that romance with you. Oh, No, cause. You're always hitting. And kicking. And putting me down. I hope you don't mean what you say. But I keep seeing you stickin' around. Like you/I can't get enough. So I stay and I wonder. How my hand would feel. Intertwined with yours. As of now though. "What are you doing?" Nothing but closed doors. My girl's a Dere. A Tsun-Tsundere. Just saying hi gets me a punch in the face. And if I should compliment her, she starts to chase. 

Shoto Todoroki sat with you on the grounds of UA. You liked to sit outside for your lunch period and draw. Shoto was allowed to sit next to you on the condition he didn't talk or bother you.  

You were mean to Shoto, so why did you make his heart flutter? It was stupid, but he liked talking to you. He liked complimenting you even though he knew you would just hit on him or yell at him. He liked having your attention, whether you were nice or mean. 

“That's really good.”

“Shut up. Did I ask you?”

Shoto stands up from the ground and ruffles your hair as you glare at him.

“Learn to take a compliment.”

“Just go away before I punch you.”

Shoto walks away knowing you would punch him. Shoto knew he could be closed off and hard to get to know, but he was seriously trying to gain your trust. He was hoping you would warm up to him but nothing seemed to be working and it made him feel quite unlovable. 

But today, instead of punching him you gave him a warning instead. That's progress, right?

"Hey! That was a direct attack!" Oh, no! The wild cat found my hiding place! "Stupid Octopus! Take it back!" "So, uh, how am I an octopus?" "How am I a cat!?" "Well-uh. Cats are cute!" "Go away!" Can we get along? You're so headstrong. There's no way, go away, now so long! Just talk to me and you will see. That's not fair, using flair you dummy. I've got myself just a little bit of love. That I wanna spend on NOT you. Cuz baby, I'm afraid you'll say. That it's not okay with you. Oh, Oh, cuz. You're always laughing. And joking. You look like a clown. But I hope you mean what you say. "I do." And I wonder what you would think. If I let my pride down, let it sink. 

You frowned as you walked down the halls of UA and made your way towards your dorm room. It was a shitty day. You just wanted to lay down in your bed and sleep. 

Classes were hectic today. A hero, Enji Todoroki, Shoto’s father, came and watched your classes for the day. He wanted to view Shotos progress as a hero. As a result, Shoto was with him practically the whole day.

You barely got to talk to Shoto today. When you did talk to him, he was really cold towards you. You couldn't help but feel he was cold because you’re always mean to him. Technically speaking, if he hated you it was fair. You are mean to him. He just didn't understand. You had a hard time expressing your feelings.

As you walked down yet another hall you overheard people talking. Your inner spy got the better of you and you just had to eavesdrop. You followed the voices to an empty classroom. The closer you got, you discovered it was Shoto and his father. 

“I’m trying. I'm improving.”

“You call that improving? I should take you out of this school and teach you myself.”

“You can't!”

SMACK!

“Don't talk back to me boy.”

“I’m sorry, father. Please let me continue my schooling here.”

“You better improve by next semester, or else I'm pulling you.”

You hear heavy footsteps come to the door and you rummage through your bag to make it look like you weren't just eavesdropping.

“Out of my way.” 

Enji brushes right past you, pushing you slightly to the side. How rude, you didn't want his filthy hands on you. 

You hesitantly make your way into the classroom. Shoto was leaning against the teacher's desk, hand rubbing his red cheek. 

“I’m not in the mood for whatever you have to say.” 

It made sense now. It made sense why he was so cold today. If you had known his father treated him like this, you wouldn't have treated him as harsh as you do. Not that you try to be harsh, your conversations just ended like that. 

“I- um... Your father shouldn't have done that.” 

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

You walked over to him and put your hand over the hand that was covering his red cheek. He slightly flinched and guilt-filled your body out of fear you unintentionally hurt him.

“You're great Shoto. Just because you lost a spar against Bakugo doesn't mean shit.” 

“Thanks.” 

You remove your hand and leave the classroom with a small smile on your face. You hadn't ever spoken that nice to him before. You were making progress. 

Could we hold hands, kiss? Live our lives in gentle bliss? "We could." "Ah! I'm not talking about you!" You're not my Prince in this. I'm not a Dere. A Tsun-Tsundere. I have a jello heart, I'm not that mean! I'm not blushing, I was just rushing and forgot the sunscreen! "Your smile is really cute, though." You'll never see it from underneath my pigtails! "Alright. I just wanted to let you know." "Uh-um hey..." "Are you okay?" "Yeah well..." Hey, hey are you free-free today? Oh ho ho. Why do you want to know? It's not like I like you okay! Alright cool, where do you want to go? We could rent a boat and sail. Find a bunny and feed it some juicy kale. "No that sounds really stupid."

You were in the girl's bathroom when Mina Ashido and Toru Hagakure cornered you and bombarded you with questions. 

“What's your deal with Shoto?”

“What do you mean?” 

“We mean do you like him?” 

You scoff and squeeze past them.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

You walk out of the bathroom to which Mina and Toru just follow you.

“We can see you clearly like him. You're mean to him but you always stare at him. You also don't have a logical reason to hate him.”

“You can tell us. Were all girls here, we wouldn't tell anyone.”

You bite your lip and contemplate telling them. You were closer to them out of anyone else in the class and you were all girls. This was a safe space. You slower you’re walking pace so you can walk beside them. 

“I- I love him... I just don't know how to say that to him. I always panic when I'm around him and then the first thing that comes to my mind is to say something mean. I just can’t deal with confrontations.” 

“Maybe write your feelings in a letter?” 

“Yeah. You could leave it in his bag, or put it in his desk.”

“And risk him rejecting me? No thanks... He probably hates me from the way I've been acting anyway.” 

You should have been paying more attention. You should have thought over telling Mina and Toru. Or at least told them in your dorm away from the public ears. Shoto was standing behind you a few feet away.

“[Y/N]... You love me?”

“I... I wasn't talking about you, you dork!” 

I was. I love you so much. 

“If you weren't talking about me then who were you talking about? I’m the only one you’re mean too.” 

“Katsuki. I was talking about Katsuki.”

I wasn't. I was talking about you.

“You love... Katsuki? Angry, swearing Katsuki?” 

“Yeah. Love him. The world doesn't revolve around you Shoto.”

I love him like a brother!

With a frown on his face, Shoto grIps his bag hard and turns around to walk away. 

“You suit each other. I hope he makes you happy.” 

We suit each other because we share the same fucking genes.

Okay well, how about a classy dinner by candlelight. Or scary stories til midnight. So then I could hold you tight. Ba da ba da ba. "And get Cheeto crumbs on me?! No Way!" Ooookay I think you're a little dense. I really don't like all of this talk. You have in the present tense. Baba da ba da. So listen here, buddy. It's all just a big fantasy. You see inside of your head! No! So just say goodbye! "Eh-whatever." Baba da ba da! I'm not a Dere. A Tsun-Tsundere. (My girl's a Dere a Tsun-Tsundere.) Hey! I can kick your butt even in this dress! UH! I digress! So let's just go to the park I guess. "Pffffft You wouldn't even know what to bring." Oh, come on, will you please just say yes! "Geez Fine. Baka Tako. It's not like I'll enjoy it or anything."

Shoto sighed as he lost to Deku again. They were playing games in Shoto’s dorm, but he wasn't focusing on the game. His mind kept going to you. He thought for sure you liked him, but now he felt like a fool.

You liked Katsuki. Of course, you did. Katsuki was good looking and strong, he could appease you in ways Shoto could not. It made sense. He saw you guys bickering a lot, you both had a colorful tongue and before the dorms, Katsuki and you would walk home together. You would make a cute couple.

Shoto felt inferior and worthless. 

“You're practically letting me win. What's bothering you?”

“I thought [Y/N] liked me.” 

“She does.”

“She doesn't. She told me he loved Katsuki.”

Deku gives out a little chuckle. 

“Yeah, like a brother.”

“No. Like a lover, she said so herself.�� 

“Shoto. [Y/N] is Katsuki’s sister.”

Shoto stands up from the couch, shocked and bewildered. 

“Wait, so she lied to me?”

Shoto smiles and takes off down the hallway towards your dorm room. He rapidly knocks on your door, too impatient to wait for you to open it. 

“Shoto?” 

Shoto grabs your shoulders and presses his lips against yours. After noticing you don't pull away, he deepens the kiss. 

“What did you do that for?”

“I know you have a hard time expressing your feelings, so I’ll confess mine instead. I love you. I love you even when you threaten to punch me for calling you cute.”

“Even when I call you stupid.” 

“Especially then.” 

A blush adjourns your face and you anxiously bite your lip. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?”

“For you, I'm always free.”  

[smosh-stuff]

I’d Place My Bid On Us (Courtivia)

Smosh Writing Week 2019 // Day One: Soulmate AU

Olivia has been waiting all month to win her crush- and suspected soulmate- over at the annual box social. But after she meets a certain blonde-haired girl at the hall, things don’t go exactly as planned...

Is this technically late? Maybe. Is it not though because I haven’t slept yet and I Say So? Yes. Shut up. (Also, this is mixed soulmate au and 1950′s au because dammit, I really wanted to write 1950′s au.)

It was just about perfect.

Delicate fingertips pressed gently onto the strip of gold wrapping paper, making sure none of the paste underneath it spilled over onto the sections beside it. Smoothing up and down and double-checking for wrinkles, Olivia looked over her work with satisfaction.

She had spent all day on it- painting, cutting and pasting, finding all the odds and ends to tack on after. It was a competition, after all. At least a dozen girls, along with herself, would be at the box social tomorrow. Each one would come with their own projects, which would be lined up along a table in the biggest room in the community center. An arrangement of meticulously decorated shoeboxes; painted, decorated, wrapped, and filled with a hand-made lunch. Looking at her own box, Olivia knew it would be the prettiest there.

The box itself was covered in a smooth coat of deep indigo paint, and speckled with tiny, translucent rhinestones she thought resembled stars. Olivia had cut diagonal strips of glittered golden wrapping paper she remembered leftover from Christmas, and glued two on each side, crossing. She’d painted the lid as well, and used gold metallic paint to produce swirls, spots, and other filigree designs the thought would look elegant, fancy, whatever. She intended to tie it closed with a silver ribbon.

All of the men would be bidding on it tomorrow, she thought with pride. But it wouldn’t matter if they didn’t. She didn’t need them to. She only needed one man to notice it.

Just the thought of Thomas Bailey made her chest feel tight. He’d first approached Olivia at the soda fountain a month ago, all dark chocolate eyes and slicked-back hair and strong, wandering hands. The memory of tinny Motown drifting from the old jukebox and carrying their banter through the whole evening still felt fresh in her mind. She hadn’t been able to forget about him after that. Especially not with the way he looked at her and teased her whenever they’d seen each other since. Her mom called him bad news and her friends called him a frat, but she dismissed them whenever they offered their unwelcome opinions. She just knew he must be interested. And even though the boxes would be anonymous, he’d know which one was hers when the bidding began- She’d told him the other day about her ideas for her box. That was technically against the rules, but she wanted to make sure he would know to pick her.

Absentmindedly, the girl glanced down at her right leg, eyeing the long red mark along her calf. It started above the knob of her ankle, reaching up in a jagged line, stopping just short of where her tube socks stopped covering. She found herself checking it constantly, in the quiet moments at home, as if it might disappear if she left it alone for too long. 

It was something everyone learned young when the first strange spots or marks appeared on their skin. If your soulmate had a mark on their skin, it appeared on your own as well. Olivia remembered once as a child when she’d scraped her knee, and ran inside in excitement right after. She’d scanned all the boys in her class. They were all in shorts for summer, and yet not one of them had a blemish on their knee. She’d ran home crying that day, while her mother attempted to console her.

She was less outwardly concerned with finding her soulmate these days, but as the years crept on, she was growing as restless as any other young woman. She paid close attention to every change on her skin, clues to a mystery that held her heart on the edge of its seat, hanging in suspense by a single thread, ready to fall whenever that final sign pointed her in the right direction.

Olivia had woken up a few days ago with this angry red line on her leg. She hadn’t fallen or hurt it herself, and it caused her no pain when she poked and prodded it. Somewhere, she knew, her soulmate was walking about with a matching streak along his leg. She imagined it on Thomas’s lean calf, occasionally even when she saw him in person. She wondered, if she saw his bare leg, if it might be hiding there, evidence of their destined love. Unfortunately for her, it was fall now. All of the boys would be wearing slacks for months yet. That meant that she had no way of knowing for certain if he was her soulmate, at least from this particular mark.

She turned her gaze from her leg, back to the ornate lunchbox on her kitchen table. The gold and silver stared back at her, as if in response to her silent questions. Decidedly, she pushed out her chair and stood, leaving the box to dry overnight, glittered surface twinkling with the midnight moonbeams that filtered through the window panes.

The social was in full swing.

The large event room in the community center was not particularly fancy, but it cleaned up well enough for a social like this. Colorful banners were strung up along the walls in blues and yellows and whites and reds. The old tables were covered in patterned tablecloths, and the metal chairs all had a ribbon or bow affixed to its back in an attempt to distract from its well-used tarnish and wear. A stereo was set up, playing cassettes of teeny-bop, jazz, and songs Olivia had heard many times from the jukebox or radio in the diner or mall.

Some people sat at the table, playing cards or talking casually. Most people were out in the center of the room, mingling or dancing to the music. Olivia skirted the edge of the crowd. Her kitten heels tapped on the polished wood. She scanned the faces, looking for anyone she knew- particularly, a pair of chocolate brown eyes and head of slick, jet-black hair. Every so often, her eyes went back to the auction table. 

Her box sat undisturbed, on the long table with a sign that identified it as the “LUNCHBOX AUCTION!”. She had brought it in this morning, wrapped in plain white paper so that nobody would know which one is hers. She had carried it into the community center with a fluttering feeling in her stomach, dressed in her nicest collared dress. The pleated skirt draped down to her knees, and she had a yellow bandana tied under the collar to contrast the green fabric. Her white tube socks were pulled up, concealing the mark on her leg.

“Hey!”

Olivia jumped and turned quickly when someone spoke up right next to her. For a split second, before processing the voice, she thought it might be Thomas. She was admittedly, a tad disappointed to see it was someone else. Instead, it was another girl. She was taller than Olivia, by a couple inches, probably. Her straw-blonde hair reached down to the base of her neck and swept itself in waves. Her blue eyes blinked at Olivia expectantly.

“Oh- uh,” Olivia laughed embarrassed, “Hi! I’m sorry, you surprised me.”

The girl laughed, bright and lilting. Olivia noticed her outfit, then. She wore a nice white blouse with a pink handkerchief tied around the neck, and hemmed slacks that matched the pink of the accent, along with white heels. It wasn’t quite common for girls to wear slacks in their town, but Olivia couldn’t say that the girl didn’t pull it off well.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” The girl assured her, “I just noticed that you were alone too, so…”

“Right! Um, I’m Olivia Sui,” Olivia stuck out her hand.

The girl took it with a smile, “Courtney Miller.”

Her hands were soft, her grip firm but gentle, adding to the aura of friendliness that the girl- Courtney- seemed to radiate like warmth from a flame. 

“Did you make a box?” Olivia asked. She looked back to the table, taking in the line of boxes, wondering which one of them could belong to the girl beside her.

“Oh, no,” Courtney told her, “I’m here because my sister entered. I’m just... hangin’ around, I guess. Did you make one?”

“Yeah! It’s the blue one with the gold on it,” Olivia nodded to the table again.

“Ain’t you supposed to keep it a secret?” Courtney crossed her arms.

“Only around people that are gonna bid,” Olivia corrected her. She didn’t see the harm in telling another girl- it would only be boys bidding, right?

Olivia almost caught something change in Courtney’s expression, then. A sudden twitch of her features. Something unsure, almost pained. But in half a moment, it was gone, and Olivia thought she may have imagined it.

“Right,” Courtney breathed another laugh, but this one was a bit less musical than the last. Olivia felt as if she was missing it. Something about Courtney had her hooked. In what way, Olivia wasn’t sure, but it was something new.

Before their conversation could continue and she could further investigate, Olivia was momentarily distracted. Further into the crowd, her eyes locked onto a familiar face. Thomas Bailey himself was just a few people away from her, talking and laughing. Olivia lit up. The fantasies of the night before blew through her mind in a flurry of excitement. 

But in another second, the warmth in her chest was swallowed by a cold, sinking feeling.

She watched the too-harsh yellow light from the ceiling light play across Thomas’s sharp features as he grinned, laughed- and placed a hand on Linsey Ghallager’s waist.

Her face must have betrayed her shock. Courtney looked at her in confusion, then turned to follow her gaze. When she saw Thomas, she looked between the two a couple times, before seeming to realize what was happening.

“Oh my gosh,” She said, “Is that…”

Olivia didn’t know what she would have said, but it didn’t matter. They were interrupted by a voice over the stereo system.

“Alright folks, it’s about time for the auction to begin!”

The auction was a blur.

The whole time, Olivia felt like she was on autopilot. It was like all of her mental processes were dedicated entirely to trying to make sense of what she had just seen.

Thomas had spent the past month teasing, flirting, leading her on. She could still feel his hands on her hips, his breath in her ear, the time they almost kissed. Now, part of her felt glad they never had. At least that, she had saved.

It wasn’t until the very end, that Olivia realized her box was the only one left. It was at the end of the line, and the last one to auction. That fact made her disconnected moping cut clear through to panic, as she noticed as well that Thomas was one of the few who hadn’t bid on a box yet. Even if he didn’t remember her description, he would know for a fact that the last box must be hers. He was going to bid.

Olivia felt her chest seized with anxiety. The mental image of spending the next hour sharing her lunch with him had brought her such joy just a few minutes ago. Now, it made her want to be sick. He smiled at her, and she averted her gaze.

“We’ll start the bidding for this lunch at one dollar- do I hear one dollar?”

“One dollar,” Thomas raised his hand. Olivia curled her fingers around the struts of her chair. Her nails dug into a bit of rust, but she didn’t notice.

“One dollar going once,” The auctioneer called, “One dollar going twice-”

“Two dollars!”

Another voice rang out- and it wasn’t one Olivia had expected. Not a man’s voice at all. It was newly familiar, brighter, and sweeter than anyone who had bid so far.

Sure enough, Courtney had stood from her seat near the mid-back of the hall. Everyone turned to look at her. Their expressions ranged from amused, shocked, and disapproving, but Courtney didn’t seem to notice them. She had one hand raised like Thomas’s was, holding two dollar bills between her fingers.

“Two dollars twenty-five,” Thomas glowered at Courtney. He didn’t know what she was doing, but he wasn’t going to be outdone.

“Two dollars fifty,” Courtney locked eyes with the boy. Her soft, stormy-ocean eyes were much different than Olivia had seen her just minutes before. Her gentle demeanor had been put away, and she was instead dressed now in stock-still defiance, shoulders squared, gaze like icy blades. Even her posture felt like a challenge.

Thomas, comparatively, was beginning to look unsure. She’d cracked the armor.

Regardless, he pushed- “Two dollars seventy-five.”

Courtney hardly reacted.

“Three dollars.”

When Thomas didn’t react immediately, the auctioneer began again to count.

“Three dollars going once…. Three dollars going twice…”

Olivia saw a range of emotions pass over Thomas, which settled finally into resigned shame. He lowered his hand and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Three times- Sold! To… the lady in pink?”

Even the auctioneer seemed off-put by the suddenly intense mood. Thomas sat back down, refusing to look at Olivia or acknowledge Courtney. Olivia felt stunned herself. She looked at Courtney- the girl who she’d only met twenty minutes ago, who she barely knew, and who had just spent almost an entire paycheck’s worth of money to save her from an awkward date. She saw that Courtney’s hostile facade had dropped. She smiled sheepishly at Olivia with a shrug. At a loss for words, Olivia stood and picked up her box. Courtney met her at the auction table. The two looked at each other.

“...Want to have some lunch?”

Courtney laughed, and this time it was full and melodious.

“Oh, wow…”

Olivia opened up her box, and Courtney looked inside with surprise.

In an attempt to impress… him… Olivia had cooked some special things from her mother’s cookbook. She’d hoped that it would be exciting. But now, she was afraid that it was maybe too foreign. It wasn’t typical Chinese-restaurant food, after all. She’d packaged dishes of cold noodles and had packed mason jars with smaller things like edamame, tofu, and pork.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Olivia began to apologize, “This may be kind of different- you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, I don’t mind-”

“No, no, It’s fine!” Courtney shook her head, but Olivia just felt so overwhelmed. She leaned over and put her head in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” She sighed shakily, unable to come up with anything more. Courtney frowned at her. The blonde was at a loss of what to do. Then she looked back in the box.

“Hey, Olivia!”

Olivia turned her head back up. What she saw was Courtney, who had taken a pair of chopsticks from the inside of the box, and held them under her top lip so that they stuck down over her chin.

“I’h thi’h how yuh u’h theshe?” She struggled around the chopsticks. She held out her hands like a magician that had just finished a trick and was prompting for a reaction.

Olivia stared at Courtney. Then she broke out laughing.

Courtney laughed, too, and clumsily caught the chopsticks as they fell out of her mouth. The frustration and sadness from earlier still hung in Olivia’s chest, but it was lost at least for a moment in their fit of giggles.

After they had both stopped laughing and Olivia had actually set out the food, the reality of the situation had finally settled comfortably as it could for her.

“I still can’t believe you did that,” She shook her head. Courtney waved her off.

“I couldn’t let you end up having to have lunch with that guy, after what he did.”

“But three dollars,” Olivia insisted, “That’s way too much!”

“It’s fine,” Courtney shrugged, “I’ll make it back.”

“I at least owe you a favor.”

“Okay, okay,” Courtney put her hands up in surrender.

Olivia picked up her chopsticks, satisfied with her victory, and popped a slice of pork into her mouth. Courtney watched her, then looked back down at her own plate.

“...Alright,” She said after a moment, “Really, though- you’re gonna have to show me how to use these things.”

Olivia snorted.

The next hour was spent talking, laughing, forgetting about Thomas, and teaching Courtney how to use chopsticks.

By the time they finished their lunch, much of the rest of the crowd had left, and Olivia was feeling much more lighthearted than before.

Thomas was nowhere to be seen, and she found herself happy with that fact. And, in a way, she was glad that she’d seen what she had, if only because it had lead to her having lunch with Courtney instead of him. She’d found Thomas attractive, sure. But the longer she looked at Courtney, the more she found slight differences.

Thomas had caught her attention for his arms, his hands, his eyes. But Courtney caught her in other ways. Her body was beautiful, for sure- but so was her voice, her laugh, the way she moved. And while Thomas kept her interested like a good song, Courtney kept her interested like a good book. Every time she moved further, she found something new that drew her deeper in. It was more captivating, more exciting, and a part of Olivia objected to the fact that these feelings were directed towards a girl, but a louder part reveled so freely in them that the other was lost in waves of rosy cheeks and stormy-blue eyes.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” Courtney said as the two of them left the building. Olivia pulled her coat back on as the autumn breeze surrounded them. She looked up at Courtney, seeing how the bright pink of her clothes and pale blonde of her hair contrasted the warm colors of the leaves and yellowing grass around them.

“It’s fine,” Olivia sighed, “I mean, at least it ended well, right?”

Courtney flashed her blinding smile once again.

“Right. I was thinking, actually-”

Courtney was interrupted when her heel suddenly caught a break in the sidewalk. She yelped as she fell, and hit the concrete on her hands and knees.

“Oh my gosh!” Olivia gasped.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” Courtney said, but she hissed a bit through her teeth. She sat back, pulling up her knee and looking at it. The fabric had torn, and crimson peaked through the hole.

“No, you’re bleeding!”

“It’s just a scrape,” Courtney persisted, “It’ll be fine.”

Olivia watched her pull up the leg of her pants. At first, she looked closely at the fresh blood. But then her attention was pulled down- to Courtney’s right calf.

Starting just above the knob of Courtney’s ankle, a bright red mark, reaching up in a diagonal line. Her breath caught in her throat. Courtney quirked an eyebrow at her.

“It’s really not that bad-”

“No,” Olivia pointed, “That…”

Courtney followed her hand.

“That? I got that a couple days ago, scraped my leg on a car door.”

Wordlessly, Olivia reached down and pulled down her sock. And as she revealed the matching line on her leg, the rosy mark of a scrape began to form on her knee as well.

Courtney now shared Olivia’s breathless expression.

Every fantasy Olivia had pictured with Thomas was rewritten in an instant. Her heart fluttered in her chest. 

She had found her soulmate.

She had always wondered what she would do or say when it finally happened. Now that the moment was here, she had no idea what to do or say at all.

Courtney let her pant leg fall back down, and climbed to her feet. Then, she broke into a wide smile, toothy and ecstatic.

“Wow…” She said softly, but not disappointed or upset- she sounded elated.

“Wow,” Olivia agreed.

Courtney thought for a moment.

“Y’know how you said you owed me a favor?” She brought up suddenly. Olivia nodded.

“How about you give me a second date?” Courtney offered, “Tomorrow, maybe?”

Olivia blinked. Even the word ‘date’ made her shiver. Then, with Thomas, and Lindsey Gallagher, and the indigo box with the golden wrapping paper and the translucent rhinestones that looked like stars sitting forgotten on a table in the dance hall, Olivia grinned.

“I think that sounds great.”

It was just about perfect.