#i was so wildly lucky to know her both online and off

[glitterarygetsit]

Goodbye, Fawn

My brilliant friend Fawn (@esterbrook) died on Friday.

Fawn and I met when I was about 24 and she was about 43, and at the time, foolishly, I thought I was the cool one. I very quickly realised that I was wrong, and that Fawn was who I wanted to be when I grew up. 

She was independent, funny, smart, and passionate. If there was anything she didn’t like, she would do something about it—she campaigned for abortion rights and did phone banking for US elections. She was sharp and kind and pragmatic and gave amazing advice.

Fawn loved stories and history—we met on an archaeological training dig in York, and later bonded over fic in the Sherlock fandom—and was forever turning up old letters and pens and other things that she breathed new life into. She found a pen at a flea market and tracked down its original owner; she chronicled a WWII romance from a box of photographs (https://www.tumblr.com/a-certain-party-i-love).

For the past twenty years, Fawn kept a diary that will now be donated to a women’s history library. I hope one day someone devotes as much care to her memory as she did to other people’s.

I find it hard to think of many people who are leaving as big a legacy as Fawn. Her activism, writing (also wrote the first book on surviving at work when you have depression), and (towards the end of her life) participation in a clinical trial have helped so many people directly, and will continue to reverberate. 

And she’s still not done: even before she was diagnosed with ALS, she arranged to donate her body to forensic science (and wrote about it here: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/02/28/well/live/my-afterlife-on-the-body-farm.html).

I’m so lucky to have been able to make wonderful memories with Fawn. We went on a road trip in Northumberland and laughed at all the dicks in Chesters Roman fort with her friend Martin, who I would eventually move to Berlin with; she visited us there and baked a derby pie full of bourbon for Friendsgiving. We went to Brittany and got emotional about the Neolithic standing stones at Carnac. We walked all over London and she showed me spots I didn’t even know about despite living there for three years.

In May, I got to visit her in her beloved San Francisco, where she introduced me to tamales, giant redwoods, and her cat Cosmo, successor of Rupert, the fluffiest and most handsome gentleman who accompanied her for most of her last ten years. 

We went over and under the Golden Gate bridge, drank many cups of coffee, roamed around the Castro and Haight-Ashbury, waved across the Pacific, browsed bookshops and made sourdough and did laundry and talked until late into the night.

She was diagnosed with ALS less than a year and a half ago, which was the cruellest fucking thing not only because she deserved so much more time on this earth, but because it made talking, eating and living independently—all things she adored—so much more difficult and eventually impossible. She chose to take advantage of California’s aid in dying law and leave on her own terms, because nobody was ever the boss of Fawn, not even death.

Fawn, I miss you already. I always imagined we would one day be old ladies cackling at dirty jokes together, and it’s a crying shame that the world has been robbed of the wicked glint in your eye at least thirty years too early. You changed my life for the better in so many ways, and I still want to be you when I grow up. I love you. Sleep well.

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 16: Courting a nightmare

From what I’ve been able to learn from reports in my Discord, is that Wentin has the smallest territory of any local dragon.

Mine is second smallest because maybe I gave too much of it to Joel as reconciliation for hurting him so much in our fights.

One of those fights happened within Wentin’s territory, the Fairport Arboretum, and it was very loud and involved fire. And Wentin didn’t intervene or show itself at all. Pretty seriously atypical of a dragon.

It turns out that we can saunter through each others’ territories without much trouble a lot of time, if we’re quiet and lucky about it. Luck is less important now that we’re talking to each other online, though. Getting permission smooths things over a lot.

But there are still rivalries. And we also all mostly just stick to our territories as much as we can. Most of us feel very responsible for them. Anurak being something of an exception.

But that fight happened before we all started getting to know each other, and Wentin just let it happen without rebuke for some reason.

Every dragon is wildly different. Even those of us who have similar morphologies have a few significant traits that are not the same. Both physical and emotional. We don’t all share the same instincts.

So, while Wentin’s behavior is atypical, it’s also stereotypical. In that its behavior is unique to it.

One of my hopes is that Ptarmigan will have the opportunity to perform a thorough divination on it and learn more than she might with anyone else, because it is supposedly a walking nightmare. According to her.

I do find myself asking if Wentin is actually a dragon, though.

Not, does it rate as a dragon? It certainly does. But, is it something older and worse?

And right after that, I ask myself once again, what does it actually want?

—

Saturday. September 21. The day before the Fall Equinox.

I keep missing these old special dates with whatever I’m doing, for some reason. The full moon, the new moon, the equinox. They matter to some people. Maybe they’re important. But I keep forgetting to schedule for them because I’m more focused on what’s in front of my face, I guess.

Middle of the day. One of the last Farmer’s Markets of the season is happening up across the street from Flounder Sound Brewpub, and this park is relatively empty of people.

It’s close enough it normally wouldn’t be. There’d be kids playing in the playground. Which I was banking on, actually. I wanted human witnesses.

I wanted a reason to keep the violence and scary posturing to a minimum.

But something is keeping the humans away from Joel’s favorite park, today.

I’ve watched from my rooftop as kids have climbed on Joel like he’s a piece of playground equipment, with his eyes closed and his breath long and relaxed. So it’s not Joel.

There’s a guy at the end of the peer with a panicky dog on a leash, and he’s trying to keep the dog from jumping in the water to get away.

And there are some absolutely ignorant seagulls picking away at things left in the park by people earlier in the day.

On a picnic table, there’s the skeletal remains of a fast food meal that was just left there. And the birds have knocked over the milkshake, and popped the lid off, and it was half full. The gulls care more about that than the possibility of being swallowed by me. Or than whatever it is that’s keeping the humans away or terrifying that dog.

Are gulls the harbingers of something in someone’s culture?

If I were in my human disguise, it’d be easier to look that up real quick.

And looking at Joel and Chapman and Ptarmigan, who are arrayed to either side of me in the middle of the field, I’m thinking not think as much about any of this as I probably should.

I’m wondering how Rhoda is doing. I’m worrying about what she’s thinking while holed up in her apartment alone. I’m hoping she’s taking this moment to get down to the shop and have a nice tea there by herself without the rest of us there, maybe. And I’m hoping I’m doing something she’d actually approve of.

Even though it can’t fly, and we’re in the middle of a large field in an open park in the middle of the day, Wentin still manages to make an ominous entrance.

While glancing around at my surroundings, waiting for it to appear, there’s a moment when one of my tiny blind spots, the wedge of space directly behind my head, is aimed at the area in front of my body.

And when my head twitches to look at something else, Wentin is there.

I’m not the only one startled by this. All four of us are, including the two Artists.

Maybe it was the one moment we were all looking away.

“Hello!” Wentin croons like a saw on a chalkboard.

Joel jumps back and barks, almost like a dog but way bigger.

Chapman’s hands suddenly go out to hir sides, like sie’s trying to steady hirself.

Ptarmigan looks up and blinks and grimaces.

I find myself reared up and flapping my wings and hissing like an alligator doing an impression of a goose. It’s almost like I see this in third person, the dissociation is instant and fleeting.

“Oh! You honor me, Meghan! Thank you,” Wentin screeches. “Please, though, can we get down to – oh, hello.” It notices Ptarmigan and takes a step back to lower its head and look at her. “I recognize you.”

“I wondered if you would,” Ptarmigan said. “How’s life?”

“I’m quite enjoying it, thank you,” it answers magniloquently.

I currently come up to its breastbone. Like, the lowest point of its chest as it hangs between its two front legs, while I’m on four legs too. Rearing up, I could place my head neatly in its mouth.

While it and Ptarmigan regard each other with apparent respect, I take out my tablet and arrange it for talking.

“How much do you remember?” Ptarmigan asks Wentin.

“Oh, this and that,” it responds. “I remember what I am more than anything. Which is truly the most important thing! Don’t you think?”

“It certainly saves a lot of trouble.”

“Have I ever told you that you are not my favorite Artist?” Wentin asks, but doesn’t give room for an answer. “I quite like you and respect you, yes, dear Nightmarist. But there are others that are more inspiring to my work, it turns out. And you are more like a doctor than a muse, if I’m not incorrect. Yes?”

I notice as Ptarmigan starts saying her next words, she also begins to move her right foot in circles and swirls on the grass, and my shift nerve starts to buzz as she says, “You are quite correct. I find it satisfying that you recognize –”

“Oh, what is it that you are doing?” Wentin squeaks. “Don’t you recall that I can feel that? Especially from you.”

“I’d like to figure out what your place is in this new development. How did you get a physical form along with everyone else,” Ptarmigan says unperturbed, and continues scribbling with her foot. “It shouldn’t hurt and it shouldn’t give me an advantage over you. I’ll share my findings if you let me continue.”

“What should I do if I don’t like them?” It asks with a very suggestive tone.

I interrupt by asking, “What do you want, Wentin?”

It seems all too happy to be distracted, like it’s not actually threatened by anything that we’re doing collectively, and it says, “Oh, yes, Meghan. You are the one I really wanted to talk to. The turncoats still operate unchecked and unidentified, and I understand you have other concerns.”

I huff. I wasn’t adequately prepared for this conversation and composing the proper response will take time. And Wentin is talking in a way that makes me feel rushed. Like, if I give it too much of a pause, it will fill the silence with more of its grandiloquent ambient noise.

Fortunately, Chapman steps up and asks, “Are the turncoats actually real, Wentin?”

“Oh, there are always turncoats, especially in a population as large as Independence County,” brushes the question off. “Or should I just call them the opposition? It’s not like they declared their allegiance to Queen Meg to begin with.”

“You said options,” I manage to say.

“Yes, I did!” it chirps. “There are so many we could choose from, too. It depends on what your expectations are, I suppose. But I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if we discuss them.”

“What options? Options for what?” Chapman asks for me, as Ptarmigan starts scuffing and kicking the ground.

Joel, for his part, has plopped his butt on the ground like a giant extremely misshapen corgi, exuding the casual carelessness only the ignored can afford. It’s helping me, though. I like his manner.

Wentin actually pauses, tilting his head at Chapman and grinning to show off his broad, flat, triangular teeth that could slice through flesh like knives.

And in that pause, Ptarmigan mutters, “I should have done this long ago.”

“Scenarios,” Wentin drawls long and smoothly, tasting each syllable of the word as if it was rendering it with its mouth and not some biological stereo speaker set deep in its chest. “Oh, my dear Artist of How Things Bump, so many delicious scenarios.”

Chapman scowls and looks it up and down, and then says, “Why do I feel less scared of you with every word you say?”

“Why should you be scared of me to begin with, Artist? I’m only here to serve,” Wentin emphasizes that last word as if its meant to mean something else that pleases it too greatly.

“Yeah, no. You’re harmless,” Ptarmigan grumbles.

“Manners, please!” the monster protests.

“You’re literally one of the world’s oldest nightmares, and your job is to keep animals on their toes, their instincts honed, and ready to run when there’s a hint of danger. And talking is your weakest stance,” Ptarmigan says. “No, Wentin, I respect you. These are my manners. Interpretation is translation. It facilitates diplomacy.” She turns to me, “Wentin is effectively bearing its throat. It wants to serve you. It just doesn’t know how.”

Joel yawns and Wentin shuts up, looking just a little bewildered and maybe smaller.

It waits patiently and quietly as I look at Ptarmigan and then Chapman, tilt my head, and then look at it.

And then I’m given the time to look down at my tablet and compose a question, “Are you a dragon?”

But Ptarmigan answers for it, “Oh, yes, definitely. That was part of the whole point of my divination right now. I thought I knew exactly what it was since the first time I met it. We had a delightful series of conversations back then where I learned what it does. But, what I didn’t know was how it was related to you. It’s a dragon. Just like you are. Its place in the world is just really ancient and obvious. It might even be one of the oldest dragons.”

Chapman asks, “Wentin. May I scan you, please?”

Wentin demurely bows its head. And for some reason, now that it has fallen silent I feel more afraid of it. But Chapman takes that gesture as assent and taps hir wrists together.

Shift.

“Oh. It is there, isn’t it. It’s not in our minds, not a shared hallucination,” Chapman exclaims. Then sie asks Wentin, “How did you sneak up on us suddenly like that?”

Wentin relaxes and smiles and croons in good humor, then says, “I’ve always been able to do that. It’s just one of the little perks I provide for those morsels that deserve it.”

And suddenly I’m not scared of it again. I’m so soothed by its words and manners that for a brief moment I want to be eaten by it.

“Shit,” I say, and shake my head.

Wentin giggles.

Then it says, looking to the side to demonstrate the length of its mouth as it talks, “I can consume your vessel as many times as you may need, my lady. It is my specialty.”

I take three steps back, eyes wide, wings wide and ready to beat shit silly, tail lashing.

Joel harumphs in a bored way, and it helps me come back to myself and relax a bit. But holy shit, I feel the need to get as far away from that maw as possible. 

It’s like when I was small and wingless, standing on the edge of Ross dam and knowing that I would throw myself off it in a heartbeat if my parents weren’t there to scream at me while I did it, and holding back more because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to fly after all, even though my body insisted I could.

I wonder if humans feel something similar when I transfix them.

Ptarmigan points to me and says to Wentin, “That might be useful. If you aim it at the right person.”

“Yeah, but please don’t do that to Meghan again, thank you,” Chapman adds.

Wentin grins, “Would you like some?”

“No.”

It’s Ptarmigan’s turn to coincidentally speak for me, asking, “You don’t actually know what Daniel Säure is up to, do you?”

“I’ll never confess my weaknesses,“ Wentin complains.

“That’s OK, we can work with you anyway,” she says. “I think you’ve already helped us out immensely, and you’ll make a great messenger and agent of…” she looks at Chapman and actually grins for the second time I’ve seen, “chaos.”

“Yeah,” Chapman says. “Also, maybe stop sewing discord in the, uh.. Hm. They chose that name on purpose didn’t they? Wentin, can you please stop scaring the shit out of the other dragons?”

“Oh, but I need to eat.”

“You don’t actually eat fear, do you?” Chapman asks, squinting and frowning. Then sie looks at Ptarmigan.

“No,” Ptarmigan says. “Hilariously, it feeds on agreement. It’s just always achieved that agreement by terrifying its audiences. They agree that it’s terrifying and they run, and it grows. Or they agree to give up and die, and it eats them in their dream, and it walks away satisfied as they wake up in a self recriminating panic. For this Earthly vessel, though, I expect it needs real food.”

“I most certainly do not!” Wentin protests.

“Really.”

“I do not. Agreement, as you say, is more than enough.”

“Fantastic. That tells us more.” Then Ptarmigan turns to me with her typical stony face and says deadpan, “Meg, Your Highness, I think we may have found you a mentor. Wentin should be able to teach you things that we can’t.”

I creep carefully back to my tablet to ask, “How?”

“Wentin,” Ptarmigan addresses the nightmare. “Could you, if you wanted to, describe to Meghan what it feels like to do things like move instantly through whatever means it is that you do that? Or how to change your size and shape, as I think you can do? I’m right that I saw you shrink just a moment ago. I’m not sure she can do those things, but the sensations might be similar to other things she can do.”

“It would be a challenge,” Wentin says with an eagerness that doesn’t befit the sentence.

“Would it be more… effective? Perhaps? If, while you explained things, you did something, like…” Ptarmigan looks past Chapman at me with hooded eyes, assessing me in a way that makes me profoundly nervous, given the circumstances and present company. I realize I haven’t fully developed my trust in her. She still has an air that makes me wonder just how much of the truth she’s ever telling me. “Chase her, Wentin! And try to eat her!”

What?

—

It’s Saturday afternoon, broad daylight. There’s a huge gap in the clouds allowing everything to be illuminated by the sun, and I’m dissociating furiously. This is unreal. One moment, I was negotiating a deal of some sort with another dragon, hoping it would go OK, the next, I’m running for my life.

I can flap my wings. I can jump. I can even fly for fifty yards or so. But I cannot get high enough to bring my feet and tail more than a foot above Wentin’s reach.

It’s just like the recurring nightmares of my youth, and now I’m wondering if it wasn’t Wentin in those dreams, too.

I can’t be awake right now, it doesn’t make any sense.

But I also don’t dare fly out over the water, because I’ll have to land and I’ll find myself in the drink.

And while I can head into the city, and try to climb my building, that would mean leading Wentin into crowds of people, and I can’t do that.

And as I’m running and dodging and dashing and flapping all over the park, like a hapless chicken chased by a dog, Wentin is fucking lecturing me.

But it’s like taunting instead. Taunting with suggestion.

“That’s right, Meghan, this is all very real,” it cackles. “Everything you and I do in this little dance of ours has immediate consequences. It’s no dream this time! Hold onto that while I swallow you whole!”

I rumble, and I squawk, and I knock, and I shout “Mayor!” and say “shit” and none of it does any good.

I can’t keep this up. I’m not an endurance hunter like a human is. I can already feel my body flagging and running nearly on empty. Pretty soon my muscles will stop working, even as I dodge around old, abandoned storage tanks.

And the others just watch, like my family did in my nightmares.

“But there are rules to this, Meghan,” my nightmare screams. “And the rules have always been the same! You know them! You’ve followed them! You’ve successfully evaded me for hundreds of thousands of years! Millions!”

What?

I’m so distracted by that, I lose track of everything else and just become aware of where my body is and what it’s doing in relation to the monster. I don’t think I even remember to breathe.

I feel like that’s just dissociation, especially because of how aware I am of my situation in the moment, and the thought of wondering if I’m breathing or if it matters because I can’t feel it anymore.

Now it’s like I’m moving my body through sheer will, and there’s no resistance.

“I will eat you, Meghan. That much is certain,” it whispers, and I hear it perfectly clear through my own squawking and flapping. “But before I do, you will remember the rules. Through the repetition of practice and reflex, you will retrain your conscious mind. And you will live!”

Jesus shit, fucking Christ, Smaug on a biscuit, it almost got me that time!

“You can do anything your body remembers doing, Meghan, if you let it, or I will eat you now!”

As I jump straight up, flapping, and bring myself just high enough for Wentin’s teeth to snap shut an inch below the tip of my tail, I wonder what the rest of the city is seeing and hearing. How can anybody let this go on without comment or action, without social consequence? Where are the dreaded police that have been watching? Is this what they want? To see one dragon get eaten by another, cut in half by teeth that have evolved to sever scale and bone?

What are the rules?

[whatsmineisyoursnow]

whatsmineisyoursnow 1

For context. This is a public diary of mine. I need somewhere to shout these things, having a little book in my room makes me feel like no one's ever going to notice. At least here, random people I don't care about will maybe notice if I'm lucky. There are lots of things I'm still figuring out, you'll have to bare with me. I'll detail my thoughts if I remember what I thought. Problems I'm scared that I have (not diagnosed nor do I have proof of them): Memory problems Laziness Depression Loneliness Gender confusion

Problems that I do have (Diagnosed or confirmed by other means): Autism Stupidity

Problems that I don't think I have: ADHD I'll describe problems when I get to them, you may not ever have a clear image of me, but that's not for lack of trying.

I may be trans, I treat myself as a girl online although I'm not sure if that's right. I feel like I'm only trans for attention, since without it I'd just be an annoying unfunny guy with an obnoxious voice. With being trans I can be both sexual and loved for being me, when I treat myself as a guy I get overlooked or ignored because I'm stupid. At least when I'm a girl people don't care about those things. I don't hate being called a guy, yet I can't tell how I feel when I'm called a girl as it's infrequent and often accidental. I'm fat and ugly anyway, I don't deserve to be called a girl because I barely deserve it.

Day 1 I played games all of today, ate more food than I should have, didn't excercise. Met a cute girl online, was lewd with her in a VC while playing swrp. Ignored my irl friends for it, made up an excuse for us playing games together as just "something came up" I regret not seeing them but I know that if I did see them I would've never met the cute girl and gotten close to her. She was so cute and fun to be lewd with. It wasn't creepy, I know that for a fact, we both liked it. She's just the better version of me. Stayed up late again, not because I was doing anything specific. I just did. I can't tell if it was intentional or not. I have to wake up for 10:30 to get to work on time and it's already 3am. I drank caffiene without thinking about it. I shaved half my right leg in the shower before giving up after the blade went dull. It wasn't a cheap set too, my hair is just that bad. I did it with shaving cream and everything. I also couldn't reach that far under my leg. Not cause I'm fat, I mean I am fat, but because it was an awkward angle in the shower. I hate hair, it's itchy, it's ugly, it's gross. It won't stop growing. I wanted to wax it myself ages ago but I don't want to do it with my family in the house. I don't know why I don't want to, my family are supportive and nice and won't intrude, yet I still don't want to. I feel like it's because I'm lazy and I don't want to put in the work to do it because I never even started to try before giving up. I wanted to look up how much it would cost to get it done at a guy friendly establishment but I forgot. Most waxing places don't like taking guys, I think I know why but I don't know for sure. I don't know how I forgot to, I've been at my PC ever since I had the shower yet I kept getting distracted by youtube videos that I don't even care about. I looked it up after writing this and the prices vary wildly from place to place. I can't tell if these places also do legs, ass, or genitals too as the websites only say chest and back. Why is this so hard, I just want this hair off of me.

[seijorhi]

Outrunning Fate

As promised (though I am more than a little late for Shiratorizawa Week), the soulmate AU

Tendou x female reader x Ushijima

TW stalking, possessive behaviour, implied non-con

Soulmates were supposed to be a blessing.

It was a fairytale that you’d grown up hearing about. One person who was supposed to be wholly yours.

Your parents were soulmates, even if you hadn’t always understood the concept, the proof of that remarkable, unshakable bond was always right in front of you. It wasn’t in the big grand gestures, it was little things - the soft, adoring look in your father’s eye as your mother passed him his coffee every morning, the way she always sought out his touch when they were together, even if it was just to twine her fingers with his, or the way that they always seemed to be able to sense when the other was upset, and wordlessly found the perfect way to comfort them.

Your father never had to tell you that he loved your mother, but he did, every single day. He told her too, just to see her smile.

It seemed effortless, easy, as if their love for one another was as natural as breathing. How could you be blamed for looking at your bare wrist, waiting for the day that name would appear in scrawling black ink, feeling that excited fluttering in your chest because you knew one day you’d meet your soulmate and have that perfect, fairytale love all for yourself.

Except it wasn’t like that.

Something went wrong.

***

You’re fifteen and barely paying attention in class when your skin prickles uncomfortably. Your heart leaps into your chest as you tug up the sleeve off your blazer, watching wide eyed with bated breath as a name appears on your wrist.

Tendou Satori.

The beginnings of a smile start to curl at your lips, but it freezes in place as more inky black writing appears below the first.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

A second name. 

And suddenly, it feels like your perfectly crafted world begins to fall apart. Two soulmates aren’t unheard of, but they’re incredibly rare and you can’t deny that there’s a certain… stigma attached to it. 

What kind of a person isn’t satisfied with just one? 

This is supposed to be some magical, thrilling moment for you, but instead all you can focus on is the pounding of your heart and the growing wave of nausea that rises in the back of your throat. Quickly you yank your sleeve back down and before you can even think to stutter an apology to your bewildered teacher, you’re out of your seat and sprinting down the hallway to the bathroom. You barely make it before hurling up your guts. 

After that, you start wearing long sleeves wherever you go.

It’s not that you’re ashamed, you tell yourself as you bite your lip and try your utmost to fade into the background whenever the topic comes up in conversation, it’s just that… other people aren’t always so accepting.

You’ve tried to get used to the disgusted looks, the invasive questions and the insults that follow you wherever you go, but it’s easier said than done. You hate that your cheeks still burn scarlet whenever you catch someone staring at your marks, almost as much as you hate the way you quickly duck your head in shame and race to fix your sleeve.

‘It’s okay, honey. I know it’s not what you expected but… it just means there’s one more person out there waiting to love you with everything they have. You’re twice as lucky as the rest of us,’ your father had told you on that horrible day. You just wished it hadn’t sounded like he was trying to convince himself at the same time.

***

You’re seventeen and the first boy who kisses you tries to shove your hand down his pants because he knows you’ve got two names on your wrist, and that means you’re up for anything, right?

You run home with tears streaming down your face and when you shower that night you scrub at the marks like you’re trying to erase them entirely.

What did having two names mean really? That one wasn’t enough? Would they be content sharing you? Would they even know of the other’s existence?

You could only imagine how horrifying it would be for them, spending months, years waiting for you only to realise that they didn’t really have all of you…

Would they hate you? Could you even blame them if they did?

Sometimes… sometimes you think it might be better if you didn’t have a soulmate at all, instead of this. It’s easier just to ignore it, pretend they don’t exist, pretend that you’re not gonna ruin their lives. Who knows, maybe you’ll be one of those few who never actually meet their soulmates. You can live with that, you think. You have a family who love you, a bunch of close friends who’d die for you - who needs stupid soulmates?

***

It’s the morning after your 18th birthday, your head is still pounding from the alcohol and bad decisions from the night before when your curiosity finally gets the better of you. It’s the modern age, most people live their lives online, you figure you’ll find a facebook page, a twitter account maybe.

Instead, the first item that comes up in your search is a video. It’s a news segment about a volleyball game - some high school team that you’ve never heard of, but you listen to the commentator talk and your heart leaps into your throat because they mention the Ace by name and suddenly there he is. Tall, dark haired and imposing - Ushijima Wakatoshi.

But you don’t even have a moment to breathe, to focus on the absolute beast that is your second soulmate and his terrifying spike because the camera shifts and suddenly there’s another player in focus. Tall, gangly with bright, spiky red hair and a too-wide grin, “-not the only player in the spotlight after today’s match; Shiratorizawa’s middle blocker, the so called ‘Guess Monster’ Tendou Satori-”

You close the browser window and slam your laptop shut.

They’re… friends, or teammates at the very least.

It feels like a bad dream you can’t wake up from. This whole thing is already messy enough, but you can’t get in the middle of that, you refuse to make everything worse for them just because the fates have decided to play a cruel joke on you.

If there were any lingering doubt left in your mind that you’re better off burying your soulmates, they’re well and truly put to bed.

That night, you dream of a cheering crowd, the thwack of a volleyball ricocheting off a vinyl floor and two menacing figures looming over you.

With your final exams around the corner, it’s almost too easy to put the video and your soulmates out of your mind as you throw yourself into studying. Months pass in the blink of an eye and suddenly you’re dressed in black robes and holding your high school diploma. You celebrate with your friends, dancing wildly with a care-free grin long into the night because you know you’re finally getting out of there for good. Tokyo’s a big city, you’ll lose yourself there and nobody, not a single damned soul, will know about the two names that grace your wrist. It’s as close to freedom as you’re ever gonna get - and god that makes you so fucking happy.

Your bags are packed and you’re holding your parents as they sob and then, like that, you’re gone. 

Tokyo awaits.

***

It’s not that easy to outrun fate.

Living in Tokyo ain’t cheap, even for the shitty little shoebox apartment you rent while you’re studying. You manage to find a job at one of the Americanised diner style cafes just down the road from where you live two weeks after moving in. It’s popular with students because it’s open till late, the coffee’s good and the waffles are exactly what the doctor ordered after a long night of drinking with your friends. You’re just happy because the pay’s pretty decent and your boss lets you bring in your laptop and textbooks so you can study when it’s not too busy. You’re not nearly as thrilled about the short, revealing blue dress that serves as your uniform, but you know when to pick your battles.

It’s a little after one o’clock on a slow Tuesday night, the cafe’s almost empty and you’re propped up on your elbows along the countertop, absentmindedly thumbing through one of your assigned readings for class tomorrow when you hear the tell-tale chime of the door opening.

You hastily shove your books aside, plastering a wide if not a little artificial smile across your face, you glance up to greet the customers, only to freeze in place.

Your heart skips a beat.

Of all the cafes in the sprawling city, of course your soulmate has to walk into this one.

With his wild, spiked red hair and easy, sloping grin, Tendou’s unmistakable as he strides through the cafe with two other guys you can only assume are his friends. You suppose you should be a little relieved that he barely spares you a glance as the threesome make a beeline for one of the corner booths, but it’s hard to feel anything other than blind panic at the sight of your soulmate only a few feet away. It’s purely out of habit that you reach for your wrist and the skin coloured bandage hiding your traitorous marks, and you allow yourself to breathe the tiniest sigh of relief when you feel it still in place.

A loud cackle bursts through the quiet atmosphere of the cafe and you dart a glance over to see Tendou with his head thrown back laughing at something one of the others has said. There’s an uncomfortable fluttering in your stomach and your cheeks redden just a touch. It’s not an awful sound (not at all), but your pulse is racing and you think you just might be sick because this is all… too much.

You’d left them in the past along with whatever fairytale fantasies you thought having a soulmate would bring. You… you’re happy being alone and coping just fine without either one of them! They were a dream - a distant possibility you’d long since locked away, you weren’t supposed to ever actually see them!

At least it’s only Tendou, you think you might actually combust if they were both here. Still, there’s a faint tremor in your hand as you brush a lock of hair out of your face and try to regain control of your breathing.

As much as you’d like to run, or preferably, have the earth suddenly open up and swallow you whole, you know you can’t. For one, you’re the only server left until close and your boss might be easy going but somehow you doubt he’d let you keep your job after a stunt like that. More importantly, you have a sinking suspicion that causing a fuss will only draw his attention and that’s the last thing you want. He doesn’t know who you are, your mark is safely tucked away under your bandages, this will be fine.

It’s an hour and a half until close, he and his friends will get some food, eat, drink and chat amongst themselves and then you can kick them out and it’ll all be over. You barely have to interact with him. For all he knows you’re just a server in a random cafe - this will be fine.

Robotically you force your legs to move, carrying you towards your oblivious soulmate. You’re pretty sure that your smile’s a little off and you haven’t quite managed to quell the shaking in your hands as you reach for your notepad, flipping it open.

It’s the best you can do, especially when there’s a voice inside your head that’s all but begging for you to turn around and pretend this whole thing never happened. 

Tendou appears to be thoroughly engrossed in whatever story he’s telling his friends, waving his arms around wildly when you reach their table. Normally you’d clear your throat politely and wait for them to settle down before introducing yourself and asking for their order, but when you open your mouth - nothing comes out. It’s like your whole throat has suddenly dried up and you’re just standing there gaping like an idiot, but Tendou hasn’t even noticed.

The ashy blonde to his left, however, does. His eyes flicker to you and you swear that you can see the faintest trace of amusement as he takes you in. He smirks, quickly shoving an elbow into the redhead’s side and jerking his chin in your direction. 

“Hey loudmouth, pipe down would you?”

Your breath catches as he turns around to look up at you and grins, “Ah, sorry. Didn’t see ya there!” 

The other two have picked up their menus again, but for whatever reason just as Tendou’s gaze starts to slide off of you, something catches his attention and stops him in his tracks. Like a magpie spotting something shiny in the distance, those big, droopy red eyes suddenly widen and zero back in with unnerving interest. Frozen with that fake, half hearted smile painted across your lips you feel strangely like a bug caught under a microscope as Tendou studies you - there’s really no other way to describe it. His head tilts to the side and he makes a low noise from the back of his throat that almost sounds pleased.

He can’t know, there’s no possible way, but if he doesn’t then why the hell is he staring at you like that?

It’s all you can do to remain rooted in place, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs that you’re sure they have to be able to hear it too. Whatever he’s searching for he apparently finds because his grin widens and he leans back in his seat and chuckles. “Why’d you look so nervous, we’re not gonna bite - promise!” 

The other guy at the table rolls his eyes, “Tendou, don’t scare the pretty waitress, she’s just trying to do her job,” he chastises, offering you an apologetic smile that does little to ease your nerves. “Don’t mind him, he’s an idiot, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

You swallow and hum in faint acknowledgment, and he takes that as a sign to begin his order. 

You were hoping that they were just going to get some drinks and be out of your hair, but as he starts listing off various snacks and appetizers to share and the ashy blonde throws out a few more, it looks like your nightmare is only just beginning.

You nod dutifully, writing it all down. The cook is just going to love you for this, but there’s not a whole lot you can do about it. “Anything else?” you ask in a voice that just barely passes for what your boss deems ‘customer service appropriate’, decidedly not looking towards the redhead who is still staring at you.

He hasn’t looked at the menu once since you walked over, actually you doubt he’s looked at the menu at all, but it doesn’t seem to matter because he pipes up regardless, “Yep, one of those thickshakes, you know - the really good strawberry one, annnd-”

“Y/N, order up!!”

Your soul leaves your body at the exact same moment that Tendou’s pupils dilate and snap to your wrist.

The pen in your hand is shaking, your grip so tight that it’s a wonder the flimsy plastic doesn’t shatter as you turn to glance over your shoulder. The cook is leaning out across the overpass, staring at you with a scowl and vaguely you register the hot plate of food in front of him which can’t have been sitting there for more than a minute at the most. You give a weak nod, earning you a dismissive grunt in response, before turning back to the table.

All three of them are staring wide eyed and open mouthed at you. 

Fuck. 

They know. They have to know.

You should have legged it when you had the chance.

Breathe. Smile. Play dumb. This is fine.

“A-anything el-”

“Somethin’ wrong with your wrist?” Tendou asks slowly, eyeing the bandage like he wants nothing more than to snatch it up and rip it away from you. His fingers flex and you don’t even have time to brace before they’re shooting out towards you-

A hand catches his forearm before he can touch you - it’s his friend, the dark haired one with the crew cut, who’s currently staring down the erratic redhead with a distinct frown. 

It’s the blonde who speaks up, “Sorry, he’s had a few drinks tonight. The idiot sometimes forgets his manners in public.”

The music is still playing in the background, somebody laughs at the table a few down from theirs, but in this little pocket, trapped between the three of them with the tension thick enough to slice with a knife, the silence is oppressive.

And then Tendou’s attention shifts back to you and your stomach flips - it’s like the floor has disappeared beneath your feet and you’re suddenly careening through the empty air with no hope in hell of slowing down.

He looks… well, mad is the wrong word. Tendou is technically smiling, but his grin stretched slightly too wide, his eyes a little too intense. There’s an emotion you can’t name etched across his pale features, and it’s unsettling… it scares you a little, if you’re being honest.

You swallow and take a tiny, shaking breath. “I-it’s fine. I tripped last week and sprained it.”

“Clumsy, are you?” he asks, prying himself free of his friend’s grip.

A laugh forces its way out, grating and too sharp to be believable. “Yeah, I guess. Your food won’t be too long, if you need anything else, just- just let me know.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond as you all but flee the table. You’re shaking and almost in tears by the time you reach the kitchen, the cook takes one look at you, a grumpy admonishment on the tip of his tongue, and falters.

They stay until close, and you avoid them like the plague.

Hours later, lying tucked up in your bed your skin still prickles from the thought of Tendou’s piercing stare. Maybe if you’d kept some kind of a level head through it all instead of acting like a flustered school girl, he might have just passed it all off as a coincidence. 

But you hadn’t, had you?

It wasn’t just that he knew who you were to him (and to Ushijima) but that after all your blushing and stammering, the pitiful attempts at hiding your soulmate marks and the way you all but ran from him the very first moment you could, he had to know that you knew as well. That despite coming face to face with your soulmate, you lied - you rejected him.

You mom once told you that the first time she laid eyes on her soulmate the world stopped spinning and all she felt was joy. Maybe there’s something wrong with you after all, because despite the insistent tug in your heart, you just feel sick. Despite being exhausted after your long shift, sleep that night doesn’t come easy.

It’s two days later that you find yourself back in the cafe, working a rare day shift on your only week-days off from classes. You keep glancing up at the door every few minutes, half dreading the possibility that any moment, Tendou and his friends are going to walk in, but they don’t. 

Ushijima does, a little after the lunch rush dies down.

He looks so out of place against the vibrant backdrop of the 50’s style diner, all serious and stoic, that if he were anybody else you might think he was lost. 

But he isn’t lost, because he’s staring right at you.

You don’t notice one of your co-workers sliding up to you until they laugh and playfully nudge your side. “Ah, I see the eye candy is back. Try and pick up your jaw, Y/N,” they tease.

Back?

Instead of finding an empty table to sit himself down at (and give you a minute to mentally prepare) Ushijima is making his way straight over to the counter, unsmiling and huge. How was he even bigger in person?! He could crush you with his thighs alone!

“He’s been here before?” you ask quietly, unable to draw your gaze away from him. 

Your co-worker snorts. “Yeah, he came in last night, he even asked for you by name. Seemed kinda disappointed when I told him you weren’t on until today. You holding out on me, Y/N? I thought we were closer than that. You know you’re supposed to tell me when you start dating a hot ass dude!”

They slip away with a wink before you even have a chance to respond and you’re left floundering as Ushijima approaches. Your mouth is dry, your pulse racing. Just like with Tendou, you have no escape, nowhere you can run or hide.

He asked for you by name.

Fuck. You should have quit when you had the chance.

Ushijima isn’t smiling. Where Tendou had been beaming with chaotic energy from the moment he walked in, your second soulmate seems almost stony as he stares at you with serious olive eyes. You honestly can’t tell if he’s frowning or if that’s just the way his face is, but it makes your gut twist regardless. 

It might also be the fact that he’s towering over you without even trying to. He has to be at least 6’3” but it’s not just his height that’s imposing - he’s brawny and muscular and, yeah, huge. Briefly you remember the news clip you’d seen of him, the terrifying brute force behind his spike. 

He seems to be waiting for you to speak, so you swallow down the lump in your throat and try to remember how to breathe like a normal person. “Hi, can I get you anything?”

Something briefly flickers across his face, but otherwise his expression remains distressingly neutral. “… I would like some tea.”

You nod - it’s like pulling teeth. “Yeah, sure. We uh, we actually have a few different kinds…”

He makes a rough noise of acknowledgement and then… pauses. Instead of the menu, Ushijima studies you. His lips twitch into the faintest hint of a… smile? You can’t quite tell, but it looks out of place regardless. “I will have whichever you recommend.”

You can’t seem to be able to form words, so you settle with nodding, gesturing for him to take a seat while he waits. 

His eyes don’t shift from you, nor does he make any attempt to mask the fact that he’s staring right at you. When his tea is ready, you all but beg your co-worker to take it to him. 

“Trouble in paradise?” they ask, waggling their eyebrows.

“It’s not like that,” you mutter, but they take the tea regardless, and you busy yourself in wiping down tables and pretending that you can’t see the scowl from the volleyball player burning across the diner. 

It really isn’t. 

Even after tucking any thought of meeting your soulmates away there was always some tiny part of you - a part you were always so desperate to ignore - that wondered how it would feel to meet them, to be loved by them…

But while your heart squeezes with every glance, it’s not warm, dizzying bliss that floods your system and sends blood rushing to your cheeks. You don’t know what the feeling is that curls in your stomach and claws its way up your spine, but it’s nothing good. 

Something went wrong with you, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

Ushijima stays for an hour, finishes his tea and makes his way back to the counter to pay. 

He's wearing a grey hoodie, running gear underneath, and when he hands you the money, passing it directly into hands, his sleeve rides up. There, plain as day, is his soulmate mark.

Your name, written in black ink on Ushijima's wrist, forever marking you as his.

You jerk, flinching away from him, but he doesn’t make a move to cover it. 

“You cannot run from us, Y/N. We are your soulmates, we’re bound together.” His voice is little more than a murmur, but there’s an edge to it, sharp and pointed. Not so much a statement as a fact, as undeniable as your name on his skin, on Tendou’s.

He says it like it’s a promise, staring into your eyes with that impenetrable gaze and for a moment you forget how to breathe.

“Why are you so determined to fight it?”

You swallow, taking the cash from his hand and punching it into the till. “I’m sorry, whoever you think I am…” you trail off, finally raising your eyes to meet his penetrating stare. You’re quietly proud of the way your voice doesn’t shake, even as your heart races like a hummingbird in your chest and your palms sweat. “I’m not.”

The only sign that Ushijima hears you at all is the subtle furrowing of his brow and a distinctly displeased hum from the back of his throat. 

“I hope you enjoyed your tea.” The cutting barb slips from your lips before you can stop them, but there’s a certain vindictive satisfaction you get in watching his eyes widen, the brief hurt that flickers across his face. 

Of course, it only lasts a fraction of a second before his features school into a blank mask and he nods.

“Perhaps I will try another the next time I see you.”

And with a short bow, he walks away.

You leave your apron behind when you finish your shift at the diner, and you don’t come back.

There will be other jobs.

***

It’s not enough. 

They start showing around campus. 

The first time you catch sight of Tendou, you’re running between classing, cursing the ridiculous schedule that has you attending two back to back lectures on opposite sides of the campus. It’s just a glance - a flicker of red in the corner of your eye. The only reason you stop at all is because you're so focused on not being late that you fail to see the crack in the path until you’re tripping over it. The books in your hand go flying as you sprawl across the pavement.

“Huh, you really weren’t kidding about being clumsy, were ya?”

A pale hand stretches out before you, and just like with Ushijima, Tendou doesn’t bother hiding the soulmate mark as he grins down at you with those wide, creepy eyes. 

You ignore it entirely, waving it away as you pick yourself up with a grunt. The skin on one of your palms is grazed, and you’re pretty sure that your knees are too, but all in all it could be worse. It’s more your pride that smarts, that and the fact that of all people to see you trip, it has to be him.

“Aw, don’t be like that, baby. I’m only try’na help you!”

You scowl, snatching your textbooks out of his offered hands. “I’m not your baby, Tendou,” you mutter.

You regret the words immediately. His grin slowly widens and he makes a sound, somewhere between a shudder and a moan - it’s almost pornogaphic and wholly inappropriate and it sends blood rushing to your cheeks, but you don’t have time to think about it. 

“I’m already late, just-” you break off with a sigh, readjusting the strap of your backpack, staring resolutely at the ground. “I’m not what you want, what… what either of you want. Just leave me alone, okay?!”

Tendou doesn’t say a word as you walk away, but just like always you feel the burning stare following you until you’re out of sight. 

Somewhat stupidly, you think that’ll be the end of it. The gloves are off - you might not have said it in as many words, but there’s no point denying it any longer. They are your soulmates and it doesn’t change a thing.

There is something wrong with your bond.

But they don’t see it like that. 

They figure out your schedule, take it in turns to wait outside your classes, ambushing you whenever you’re alone. 

“I have a game tomorrow,” Ushijima tells you on a rainy Thursday afternoon as he follows you home. “I would like for you to come.”

It doesn’t seem to bother him that you walk a few steps ahead (or try to at least - his legs are ridiculously long) with your head bent down, ignoring the steady rainfall that threatens to saturate you. Tendou usually fights for your attention, grabs at your hands, your waist, any part he can reach just to touch you, but Ushiwaka seems content to merely be near - so long as you stray too far.

“I have exams to study for.”

He hums noncommittally, “Tendou will be there.”

All the more reason not to go. 

The silence between you two is heavy.

“It would make me… happy, if you came,” he tries again.

Your eyes squeeze shut for just a moment. You hate it when he does this, when he acts like you’re the one being stubborn. Like you haven’t told him, told them both to stop a thousand times before. Like they haven’t ignored it at every turn, blatantly refused to acknowledge that you don’t want them like they want you.

Shouldn’t ‘no’ have been enough?

You’ve considered reporting it to campus security, or even the police, maybe trying to get a restraining order or something like that, but what would you even say - ‘Please Officer, sir, my soulmates are stalking me’? Yeah, that’ll go down a real fucking treat. 

“Why…” you trail off with a sigh, forcing yourself to stop walking.

This time he does reach for you, taking your hand in his. It’s warm and rough from years of volleyball and hard work, and you hate that it’s already so familiar. His expression is as stoic as ever, but there’s a quiet reverence in his eyes as he looks at you, as if he can’t quite believe you’re really there with him. You suppose in another light, it might almost look romantic, the two of you holding hands under his umbrella, lost in your own little world as the rain pours down around you.

He seems to be waiting for you to finish your thought, so you buck up whatever dregs of courage you still have and try again, “Why can’t you just… move on? I don’t want this- this thing, whatever it is between us.” You sigh, tugging your hand back, “I just want to be alone, why can’t you respect that?!”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, staring at you, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the back of your palm.

But then he shrugs, easily, as if you’re merely discussing the weather and not their continued overbearing and unwanted presence in your life. “We love you. More than anything, and despite your… reservations, we belong together, what other reason does there need to be?” He pauses, his gaze softening just a fraction, “You’ll come around eventually,” he adds.

A tiny part of you crumples at that. What’s the use in arguing with a brick wall?

***

It’s a minor relief when you walk out of your last lecture for the day the following afternoon. It might be because it’s a Friday and you, for once, have absolutely no plans for the weekend, but realistically it’s more to do with the fact that you know no one is waiting for you outside. Ushijima has his volleyball game, and Tendou will be there with him, cheering from the sidelines. 

You should be happier, really, but there’s a pit in your stomach that’s been there since Ushijima left you at your door last night. 

They’re not going to stop. 

Instead of listening to the professor talk, you’ve spent the last three hours searching university transfers. You love Tokyo University, you love Tokyo - the big, bustling city you’d gladly lose yourself in again and again, but it can’t be your home, not when they’re here too.

There’s a University in Kyoto, it has a similar program to the one you’re already in. It’s a surprisingly easy process to change - your grades are decent enough, all you have to is apply. One simple click of a button. It’ll take a few weeks for it all to go through, which’ll give you enough time to figure out how you’re gonna upend your entire life without them realising - assuming of course that Kyoto university accepts the request.

If you soulmates won’t let you go, you’ll run, and you’ll keep running. Maybe you’re wrong, maybe one day you’ll look back at them and feel that same love for them that you’d seen in your parents instead of that black, cloying unease that twists at your guts, but so long as they don’t give the choice, what options do you have?

You’re not stupid, this… thing that they’re doing, the stalking, monopolising your time, trying to drive your friends away, it’s not the end game. What happens when they get tired of you ignoring them?

“Hey, Y/N wait up!”

For a moment your heart seizes, but it calms almost immediately when you realise the voice isn’t the one you’re afraid of. 

You turn to find one of the guys from your last lecture walking over. He’s kinda cute, in a lost puppy kind of way, and he’s nice, for the three conversations you’ve actually had with him. Honestly you’re a little surprised he actually knows your name (considering you’ve definitely forgotten his) but you smile back regardless. “Hey, what’s up?”

“You doing anything tonight?”

Netflix and crashing early, but you’re hardly about to tell him that, “Not much, why?”

He smiles, and for a moment you’re taken aback by just how utterly endearing it is. He really is cute. “Me and a few friends are having a party tonight, you’re uh, you’re welcome to come. Y’know, if you’re not doing anything,” he says with a laugh, throwing in a wink for good measure.

But his smile fades a little as he catches a glimpse of something behind you. You frown at the odd reaction, turning instinctively to see what drew his attention when a weight drapes across your shoulders and you find yourself being pulled into a sideways embrace.

“There you are, baby! I was starting to think you’d gotten lost,” a familiar voice drawls. “Who’s your friend?”

You can’t see Tendou’s expression as he rests his chin on your shoulder, but from the way your classmate blanches you can imagine that it’s not pleasant. Still you have to give him credit, he only falters for a second before he’s rubbing the back of his neck and offering a sheepish smile, “Oh, hey, uh… yeah, I’m-”

“Punching a little above your weight, dont’cha think?” Tendou cuts him off with a snort, nuzzling in just a little closer. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear, “I thought Ushiwaka told you about the game tonight.”

You shiver, although whether it’s from his softly edged words or the kiss he presses against your cheek, you’re not entirely sure. “He did, I-I told him that I had to study…”

Tendou laughs, squeezing you tighter, “Psh, is that all? Baby, we can help you study later. C’mon, or we’re gonna miss the start of the game.”

And like that he’s tugging you away. With Tendou’s arm wrapped snugly around you, you don’t even have a chance to turn around and apologise to the guy. He’s done it purposefully, a reminder you suppose of who you belong to - though for your classmate’s benefit or yours you honestly don’t know. 

Ushijima’s already on the court by the time Tendou and you arrive at your seats (front row of course) but he glances over as you both settle down and his lips quirk into the faintest hint of a smile.

It would make me… happy, if you came, he’d said.

You don’t miss the razor sharp, anticipatory gleam in his eyes, though. 

He destroys the competition. You still remember that brief clip you’d seen years ago of his brutal spike - it seems like time has only served to make it more lethal. The rest of his team is undeniably good, you doubt Ushijima would join a club made up of anything less than the best, but still, he’s in his element and without a single doubt the strongest on the court. 

For every point he scores, Tendou cheers wildly. Halfway through the second set you can see that every player on the other side hates Ushijima - if the scowls and muttered snarls they’re shooting his way are anything to go by. You can’t exactly say you blame them for it either. They’re demoralised and angry, frustrated by the huge Ace and his indomitable force and even though he’s not a part of the team, Tendou revels in it. There’s a song he starts to sing, some inane jig that flows too naturally to have been made up on the spot. You can almost imagine him on the court beside Ushiwaka, singing it after stealing point after point from the other team. The two of them must have made a formidable team on the court.

They still do, you suppose.

You’ve never been one for volleyball, or sports in general, but even you can’t deny the sense of feral anticipation in the air as Ushijima steps up to serve on match point. Tendou has his hand wrapped tightly around yours, leaning forward in his seat to watch the spectacle. You can’t say you blame him.

You might hate him, but you can’t deny that his serves are a sight to behold. Your heart thumps as he throws the balls up, runs and launches himself into the air. His legs are arched, his form perfect and you still can’t quite believe how high he manages to get considering his size -

And then he hits the ball, palm slamming into the leather with a resounding smack - it flies over the net, damn near knocks the poor Libero off his feet as he tries to save it, but even that isn’t enough to stop it. The ball ricochets off his receive, spinning into the crowd and just like that - it’s all over. 

Ushijima roars in victory, and Tendou turns to you, red eyes wild and delighted. You don’t have a moment to breathe, much less prepare yourself before his lips are crashing against your own. 

The deafening cheers of the stadium fade out. 

You can feel his racing pulse as he clutches you close, the unrepentant enthusiasm that pours through him as his tongue dances across your bottom lip, begging for entry. You’re stuck still, frozen in place as your soulmate steals his first kiss.

Somehow when you pictured this moment as a little girl, you didn’t imagine that it would be fear that floods your veins, that the soft, breathless laugh that Tendou gives as he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours would scare you instead of making you feel safe and loved.

They walk you home together. It’s unnerving enough with just one of them, but with both your soulmates flanking you you’re more on edge than usual. 

Or maybe it’s the slightly weird energy you can sense between the two of them. Tendou hasn’t stopped grinning since he kissed you and Ushijima still seems a little wired from his win. He hasn’t said much since the three of you left the stadium, but he’s holding you closer than normal, an arm slung low across your back, his fingers brushing possessively along your hip. 

God, Kyoto can’t happen fast enough. 

There’s a lump in your throat as you reach your apartment. They’d offered to take you out for dinner after the game finished - to celebrate Ushiwaka’s crushing victory over ‘those poor assholes’ as Tendou had put it - but despite the pit of hunger in your stomach, you’d politely refused. The less time spent with them the better.

Surprisingly, both Tendou and Ushijima had taken it in stride without so much as a peep.

But now you’re at the front door, keys in hand and Ushijima still has his arm draped around you. It’s not like they haven’t been in this position before, but despite all their gentle cajoling (well, gentle is relative - Tendou whines petulantly and Ushijhima just seems to hover silently like an overgrown bat) they’ve never actually been inside your apartment. 

It’s your one sanctuary, and you very much want to keep it that way.

“Y’know, ‘Toshi and I’ve been thinking,” Tendou begins, snatching the keys out of your hand before you can stop him, chuckling and swatting at you when you try and grab them back. “Me ‘n the big guy, we really do love you, baby - head over heels, heart racing, butterflies in your stomach kinda love. It’s kinda sappy, actually. You have no idea how happy you’ve made us.”

The key slides into the lock and he twists it, pushing your door wide open. His eyes flash to yours and he grins, bowing as he gestures towards the open apartment. Your open apartment.

An invitation.

You blanch. “Um, I-I don’t think-”

Stupid of you to think you ever had a choice in the matter - Ushijima’s arm is an iron wall against your back, pushing you forward as he crosses the threshold. 

Tendou follows behind the two of you, and the click of the door shutting behind you echoes far too loudly in your small apartment. He tosses the keys into the little dish on the kitchen counter - where they always go when you’re at home - and winks at you.

“I mean we are your soulmates so I ‘spose it’s kind of a given.” He shrugs, leaning back against the countertop, folding his arms over his chest. “But we can’t help but notice that you seem a little… uneasy around us. And I get it, baby, really I do. You’re just a little shy - it’s cool.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as Ushijima’s fingers curl around your jaw and he tilts your face to the side to meet his intense stare, “You’re being unnecessarily stubborn,” he elaborates.

A flicker of amusement dances in Tendou’s eyes at his bluntness. “We tried it your way - taking it slow and steady, trying to ease you in but, well… I think we can all agree your way isn’t working all that great.”

Your eyes snap back to him, “What?”

His grin widens, “So we figured it’s time we try it our way. We’ve been so good, baby! D’ya have any idea how hard it’s been to hold ourselves back?”

Ushijima’s grip is unrelenting, but that doesn’t stop you from frantically trying to fight your way out of it as Tendou pushes off the counter and stalks over to the two of you.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, “Been waiting so long for this. Wanted to fuck you on the tables back in the diner in that cute lil’ uniform of yours.” He smirks down at you, his pupils blown wide and dripping with lust. 

No. No, no, no! You shake your head frantically as he closes in, “Stop, wait! Let me go, LET ME GO! I-I don’t want-”

Your panicked words are cut off as Ushijima suddenly spins you around to face him. His hand cups your cheek, enveloping it entirely, and his broad thumb strokes the soft skin gently. “We’re not going to hurt you, little one. You just need to see - to feel what we feel for you.”

Whatever retort you have is swallowed up as he closes the gap between you and kisses you. He’s demanding - unrelenting - forcing your mouth open so that his tongue can taste yours. Distantly you register Tendou slotting in behind you, the unmistakable bulge that presses against your ass as he attaches himself to your neck. “Shh, baby,” he murmurs between kisses, fingers sliding to the hem of your top. “Let your soulmates take care of you, hm?”

It’s not like you’ve ever had a choice in the matter.

[madaboutmunson]

Everlong Chapter 8 - Everlong (Let Me Call You Sweetheart Part 2)

Warnings: swearing, food, vampire things, blood, fluff, possession, goodbyes

Summary: Now in a safe place reader can make some important decisions without panic clouding their judgement.

Notes: If you've read this far in the series thank you. I'm honoured you'd take the time out to read my little stories when there are so many out there to choose from. This is the last part of this series. I hope if you got this far you've enjoyed it. Thank you so much for reading ❤️

Thank you to @portaltothevoid and @munchabunch for helping me out with this and generally being awesome human beings I'm very lucky to know

Most of the trip to the island was pleasant enough, reminiscing and catching up between the three of them. You noticed a few awkward moments between Steve and Eddie particularly.

It wasn't as if those feelings were still there for one another, but neither could pretend it hadn't happened, but Steve's true love wasn't Eddie, or any of his other partners, it was his family. Although the weirdness of the situation wasn't lost on you, Mr Harrington had seemed to have made his peace regarding you and Eddie being together.

On landing you realised the expectations you have for Dustin's island had been way off the mark. You were all given large insulated coats to put on, and some wipes to remove some of the blood, and on the way to touch down was a battle against a howling forceful wind.

The futuristic estate itself was nothing short of palatial. The buildings were huge, but set inside the rocks to hide them away; however,once inside it was almost like a luxury resort.

Mr Harrington runs into the main living room and is immediately swamped by his ten kids, he has hugs and kisses for them all.

Next they herded to Dustin, where the kids are absolutely over the moon to see him in person and keep poking him playfully to ensure he's not a hologram.

You hang back with Eddie, who suddenly looks really quite nervous, you take his hand in yours, "It'll be ok," you try to reassure him.

You give the Harrington's a small wave hello, thank them for coming to the concert, the photograph they sent you, and then are rushed from the side by Sebastian. You pick him up in your free arm, "Hey buddy! I'm so glad to see you!" You press him to you in a half hug.

"I'm happy you're here too. I even made you a playlist, especially for coming home. I know this isn't our real home, but Dad said it is temporarily, so I think that means I can send you this now." He smiles up at you, and then looks at Eddie.

"Are you Ambrose?" Sebastian asks whilst getting out his phone to take a picture.

Eddie is very quiet, so you help out, "No, this is Eddie," and you show Sebastian that you are holding Eddie's hand.

"What happened to Ambrose?" Sebastian asks, "We thought you really liked him. Also two Eddie's around here is gonna get confusing."

"Well…" you try to figure out an explanation that Sebastian might find acceptable, but Eddie interrupts you.

"I used Ambrose as my online persona, but my real name is Eddie. You have another Eddie here?" he gives Sebastian a happy closed mouth smile.

Sebastian scans over Eddie, and despite the huge coat covering most of his clothing, asks, "Do you like Heavy Metal?"

Eddie laughs, "I sure do. What about you?"

Sebastian frowns a little, "I like it well enough, I just can't get this new playlist for our Eddie quite right. Would you help me? It's for Edina." Eddie searches the room for whom his Harrington name sake might be. Sebastian points at the toddler currently running around with a saucepan on her head bumping into things and laughing wildly.

"Figures," Eddie nods and laughs. "Sure, I can help you," he adds.

Sebastian lifts up their phone and tries to take a picture of both of you, "I don't think that will work buddy, but I'll send you one I made earlier," you quickly rifle through your phone and feel a little bashful, as Eddie peers over at your phone to see you scrolling through a bunch of his old photos you had edited yourself into, or the other way around.

He laughs and shakes his head, but then notices the one of him in his hellfire club chair next to Krusher, "But you can send that one to me immediately!"

There would be more awkward moments to come. The two eldest Harrington's with dark curly hair and deep brown eyes. You'd seen a bashful exchange between Mr Harrington and Eddie. Before Eddie mercifully killed it the only way he knew how, getting in Mr Harrington's personal space to say, "Glad to see you didn't get over me for a few years at least, Harrington!" He laughed and patted Steve in the back, "I'm glad you got your beautiful family."

You have your own awkward moment when Dustin decided on giving you a long lecture on how old Eddie actually is, but then shooting down his own argument by then going on to talk about how time works in The Upside Down, and what youth means to a vampire.

Eventually everyone seems to have greeted everyone, even Krusher, who was confined to a rather luxurious utility room for an uninterrupted nap.

You and Eddie are shown to your individual rooms, because 'there are impressionable kids in this house damnit.' A suitcase is already in your room as is the guitar. Thankfully this suitcase is one from home rather than tour, so you won't look so out of place.

Purely because of the huge corner tub, you get clean in the shower, but take a little time to yourself soaking in the tub afterwards. Your body aches especially your hands and arms, the hot water soothes them a little as you lie back and relax.  Through the crack in the door you can see her propped up against the bed. 

'Hello?' you try in your mind.  The response is silence. You roll your eyes, it had worked that once at battle of the bands, but maybe now everything was different.

You sink under the water for a while, staring up at the ceiling. Then the impossible happens, you feel something tugging backwards. You figure you must have dropped off for a second and try to sit up, but it pulls you backwards again.

Bubbles fill the water in front of you as you frantically try to grip the sides to pull yourself up, or scream for help, but the surface rapidly becomes much further away than arm's length, increasingly distant, as the seconds tick by.

Then you feel yourself flip over and land on a cold wet floor, shivering. You take a look around and there is nothing, pure absence. You see just darkness until you turn around to spot a red guitar, lying in a puddle. You move over to it mostly for some kind of comfort, but maybe also a clue as to where you were.

As you get up close you can see it's just like her, except the paint work is a pure cherry red, there is no black on the paint work.

"Hello," says a voice next to you, startling you. 

You jump back a little, and in front of you might be the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. Her long dark hairis in a thick braid that seems to wrap around her body, her brilliant eyes of emerald green and her skin a coffee colour dappled with freckles. Your eyes land finally at her feet, grubby with earth and grass.

"Yedda?" you enquire happily.

"The very same," she courtesies and her accompanying laugh sounds like a melody, "You wanted to talk to me?"

"I did. I was just wondering…" you start to speak feeling a little awkward.

"I know the answers you seek, and I will tell you no riddles. You have loved him as truly as anyone can, but only because you are partly me," she says, reaching out to help you up.

You nod a little sadly, "I thought that might be the case." You take her hand and get to your feet. You glance down at the guitar and then back up at her, "You know, my whole life, I've never really wished for love, maybe a few times I thought about it, but it's not my dream."

"I know," she replies, "You just wanted to play, correct?"

"Is that why you chose me? Out of everyone?" you ask quizzically.

"Well, it was a number of factors honestly. Eddie already knew you, though you didn't know him yet, and he was intrigued by you. When he put me in the window, I could tell you were unspoilt, and you had dreams of ascending to great heights in music, and out of all the things I can do, that one is by far the easiest."

"You had hoped to make a trade?" You start putting the pieces together.

"Indeed, but when the accident happened, we were too far apart," she remarks, "but the flip side of the coin, because of the accident," she points at your side, "a small part of me got to live my dream. A small taste."

"To be with Eddie?" you ask gently.

"To be whole again, as we should have always been. He is the other part of my heart, my soul, my very being," she enthuses at you.

"And the trade?" You ask, fearing the worst.

"Your dreams for mine," she hisses her eyes sparkling, "I would have your form, and you would be able to play to thousands every night, hear the roar of the crowd, bewitch them with your song, assist or mould your player, until you move to the next. You would be eternal. Pure sorcery."

"Would you give me time to say my goodbyes first?" you ask and her eyes flash with delight.

"Gladly!" She radiates joy like an almost blinding light.

You are thrust out of the water's surface in a sit-up, coughing a little and gasping for breath for a few moments. You carefully get out of the bath and get dried and dressed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you look down at the guitar again, as your bedroom door wiggles open and a furry snout forces their way in.

Krusher sits in front of you. He tilts his head, resting his chin on your knee and raises his eyes to yours. It's almost like his honey eyes know this is goodbye. You ruffle his fur, "You be a good boy now, understand?" You kneel on the floor and give him a great big hug and a kiss on the head. You head out the door as he lies down at the base of the guitar and leans against it.

You sit down with everyone else for a huge feast of a meal, maybe a little too excessive, but it felt right. Looking around the table, everyone is laughing and smiling, old friends reminiscing, new friends getting to know one another.

As the evening moves onto parlour games of charades, the Harrington's slowly, but surely, start heading to bed. You stop Sebastian before he heads up, "How do you feel about playing the guitar?"

"Gee I don't know, it seems kinda straight forward to do, but honestly it's a little noisy sometimes. I had to borrow Edina's ear defenders at the concert, but I still had a fun time. Well, before those bad people turned up anyway," he recalls.

You give him a tight hug, "Do you think Edina might wanna learn one day? If she did, would you help her? I know you are the smartest Harrington after all," you smile at him.

"Of course I would! I'm her big brother. I'm always going to take care of her. Will she play the guitar? Hmmm, I'm not sure yet." He looks over at Edina screaming her lungs out as Steve attempts to take her to bed, "I think she'd make a pretty good singer though. Dad's always saying she's got a good set of pipes on her, which doesn't actually mean pipes it means lungs and vocal chords," he says proudly. "Anyway I better go, new playlist to try for her bedtime tonight," he gives you another small squeeze and runs up the stairs after them.

"Have I gotta keep my eye on this little shrimp too?" Eddie says with a laugh, putting his arm around your waist, and pulling you close to him. Dustin gives him a signal to cut it out, and gestures over to the teens still present in the area. Eddie puts his hands up in surrender, and takes a step away from you. 

Eddie hides his mouth with his hand and whispers to you, "He's still a total butthead," making you both laugh at one another. His eyes linger on you as his smile grows before he looks away quickly, putting his hands into his back pockets.

Eddie waves Dustin over, and whispers, "Look man, I gotta get something to eat soon, and I don't wanna be breaking any house rules, ya know?"

Dustin slaps him on the back, "Don't worry dude, I've got a fridge full of…er….your dietary requirements. I plan ahead, remember?"

Eddie throws an arm around him and says in his best British accent "Lead the way, good sir," and gives you a small salute wave before leaving with Dustin.

You start tidying up some of the plates, even though you know Dustin probably has someone sort this out for him.

"Harringtons, if you aren't going to bed, you should be getting ready for it, or studying," Mr Harrington calls out to the living room and claps his hands at the kids. He's met with a variety of responses, but ultimately they all file out saying their goodnights.

Eventually, he joins you in the dining area, "You're thinking about it, huh?"

You look up at him, and freeze, "About what?"

"Her offer, the trade," he says easily, scraping the food away.

"Well…yeah. It's a win-win honestly," you say putting the plates in the dishwasher.

He sighs, "Even though you'll be stuck in there, and she'll be walking around as you? Forever."

You turn around to look at him again, "Mr Harrington, music was my first love and it will be my last, but making music, moving people with it…it's more powerful than I could have imagined. The way I'd be capable of that…I can't do it like this. I know it sounds absolutely insane. I get it, and I'm young, but believe me when I say, having the crowd in the palm of my hand, wasn't something I was really feeling myself, those were her feelings."

Mr Harrington puts the dishes on the side, walks over and grabs you in a hug, "I'm not trying to change your mind, Y/N. I just want you to make sure you've really thought about this." 

You nod into his shoulder, "I have. I get what I want. I bring two soulmates together. You and Dustin can get back to living your non apocalyptic lifestyles. Plus a chance to defy the gods themselves, come on? Who wouldn't want to do that?" You move back and smile up at him.

"Defy the gods? You've been hanging out with Eddie for too long," he laughs and ruffles your hair.

"I'd say don't tell Eddie, but he'll figure it out eventually. I'm hoping he'll be so enamored he won't mind," you say with a slight sigh.

You start making your way up the stairs, "What about Eddie? You don't wanna say goodbye?" Mr Harrington calls after you.

You shake your head, "I think the next hello he'll get is a much more exciting prospect." You turn and jog up the stairs.

You open the door to your room and pick up the guitar and put it on.

"I'm not really sure how this works, but I figure you'll show me. I'm ready to make the trade. My body for this body forever," you say quietly aloud.

You wait for a few moments and nothing happens. As you attempt to take the guitar off,  it snaps back to your body like it was on an elastic band. There is sort of whooshing and almost like your surroundings rush past you at lightning speed until there is an abrupt thud.

You are spun around and before you know it, you're looking in front of a mirror. You see yourself holding up the guitar, but the crackled body paint has changed to an abstract lined pattern.

It is only when you see yourself laugh and shed a few tears that you realise you are not the owner of that form anymore. A sense of relief washes over you, as you are turned to face your old body. "Thank you. I'll always make sure you don't get shut away."

She props you up against the wall, and positions you so you can see outside. Krusher looks up at you, and sits under where you lean.

A few minutes later you can see her run out into the snow with the huge insulated coat on. Eddie runs after her, and stops short of her a couple of metres away. They slowly raise their hands to one another as they step closer to one another. As their hands touch nothing visually happens, but audibly you hear a sonic boom.They embrace one another tightly, tears of joy spilling from their eyes, and you hear the most beautiful melody you have ever heard, as Eddie picks her up and spins around with her in his arms.

((Not sure if I should have switched perspectives for this moment or not))

—-----

You spend a few months with Yedda and Eddie until she finds a suitable dreamer for you to help catapult to stardom. Meanwhile, Eddie wastes no time turning Yedda into a vampire just like him, so it really would be eternity. He really meant it when he said he was through with losing her. You don't think you've ever seen him so happy.

You spend a few years making a nobody into a somebody and trying to change the world a song at a time. Moving just one person in the crowd could be enough to set wheels in motion for greater changes.

Then in the dead of the night, a mist fills the huge rehearsal space you mostly frequented when not on the road. Yedda's form returns, grasping you from the wall, "It's time," she smiles as you are whisked away.

—------

Mr Harrington's house was generally a lot quieter  these days, but today was a special day, and everyone was home for a change, all except one.

"Ok everyone, let's just keep it down. They're nearly here!" Mr Harrington says gently in a whisper. The chatter continues until Sebastian shouts "Shut up!!!" holding his headphones to his ears.

As silence fills the house, the Harrington's hide from sight, until the key goes in the lock and they hear the voice of Dustin "...so I figure why don't I just come get you and your Dad can get the ice-cream, right?"

As the front door opens, everyone jumps up and shouts "Surprise!!!" nearly causing Edina to fall back outside, from the shock.

 

She looks around the heavily decorated room with wide eyes, "Whoa, guys, this is incredible!!!" is all she manages to get out before she is rushed by everyone, offering presents or hugs and even a few birthday bumps.

The doorbell rings and Mr Harrington goes to answer it, and finds a large wrapped present on the doorstep.

He checks the tag: "To Eddie Van Harrington, Happy Birthday! Hope it's the Most Metal Ever!!! Love from Uncle Eddie and Aunt Yedda"

He picks up the box and brings it inside, "Edina!! I think this is for you!"

She rushes towards the gift, grabbing the card, quickly reading it and shoving it in her pocket. She frantically rips off the paper and finds a black case with her name spray painted on it in red paint. She carefully flicks it open to reveal a red and black BC rich Warlock.

She quickly puts it on and stands in front of the mirror and plays a chord that rings out beautifully.

You try to speak to Edina in her mind, but clearly this ability is something that you must learn.

Seeing Edina in her element, the return of the guitar and everyone having a good time, Mr Harrington slips off to his office for a few minutes.

He looks at himself in the mirror and half smiles, "Good job, Steve," he says as he unbuttons his shirt a little revealing a fluffy tuft of chest hair, in which is nestled a pick necklace, he holds the half neon half black pick in fingers and runs his fingertips over it. He pats it, smiling and buttons his shirt back up before heading over to the computer.

He sits down at it and wakes it into life, opens a browser and starts typing,

Thank you all for your kindness, support and effort over these last 2 years. This group has meant the world to me, it has helped a young person gain their life back, and is enabling them to achieve their dreams. I'm closing this group as it has finally achieved its purpose, our Guitar Hero is free 💚 Hope you all enjoy the anniversary show if you're going xx

He clicks send and leans back in his chair, and spins around a little. His hand finds its way to the locked drawer as it often did, in these quiet moments. He removes the key hidden within his electric pencil sharpener , unlocks the drawer, reaches into it and pulls out some papers. Two birth certificates, one with the amended details for Edina Harrington, and one with the original details for one Baby Munson.

Steve didn't know if Eddie knew about his father's other children, and ultimately the children they'd had themselves, but when the fostering services had asked him if he had room for one more, at first wanted to say no, but something, a gut feeling, had told him to at least help out, it was a baby who had lost its mother and father in a tragic accident after all.

Then when he saw the original documents, he couldn't believe his eyes. It was fate, destiny, something otherworldly he wasn't sure, but she'd found her way here. At the time he had not been on speaking terms with Eddie, so it's not like he could have told him, and even if he had been, was it really his place to announce a whole family Eddie might not know about? Maybe Vampires could just sniff genetics out or something?

He looked at the framed piece of Evelyn's cross-stitch on his desk "We all look out for one another". The number one rule of the Harrington household. It was something he’d had to learn himself growing up. Only having to go through some very tough stuff to unlearn the rule of “Look out for number one.”

Helping others is just what Steve did, it gave him a sense of purpose and ultimately made him feel whole. Prior to having people to care for, people that relied on him, he was mostly just a complete asshole. Buying into whatever was the popular thing to do. Whether that helpfulness was housing kids, giving kids a shot at a job at the record store, or helping strange little old ladies cross the street.

He'd give that one little old lady her due, though she was right about how important the guitar had been and it had come back to him eventually.

Steve's thoughts are interrupted by the doorbell again. He rushed down the stairs. He had to get to the pizza before the kids did, otherwise it was a free for all.

But, when he opens the door it's not what he expects at all. It might just be the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in his life. He can't tell her age, but he’d guess she was in her forties. Her sparkling vivid green eyes strike him immediately, her light brown freckled skin, and an insane amount of luscious dark hair cascading down her back. Steve forgets himself a moment staring at her, but eventually clears his throat and manages, "Um…sorry I thought you might be pizza…I mean be the person that delivers it, not pizza itself…er.." he leans against the door frame, and runs his hand through his hair, to establish some confidence back within himself, "So how can I be of assistance?"

She giggles and smiles beautifully, and hands him a card, "I just moved here," she waves vaguely into the distance. “I'm a music tutor. Someone told me you had a lot of kids, so I thought I'd shoot my shot, you know?" she says casually, her voice ringing out melodically.

Steve gives a light chuckle, and pockets the card not being able to take his eyes from her, "I've definitely got some budding musicians. I'll ask the kids about it, and give you a call for sure," he says, shifting his weight from the door frame and extending his hand out to her. "I'm Steve, from Harrington's Records in town. I could…you know..” he clicks his fingers a few times, “put some of your cards or posters in the store for you. Well you know if you wanna drop them off some time?" he says with a forced casualness.

She gives him a gentle smile, "That sounds amazing! I'll be sure to do that," she looks down at the floor with a smirk and looks back up at him, her hands behind her back, "Maybe tomorrow?" 

A huge smile spreads across Steve's face, "I'll see you then."

—----------------------—---------------------------------------------------

Little Bonus: Eddie's POV

Dustin leads Eddie down to the wine cellar, and suddenly rushes ahead with all the excitement a man nearing the start of his fifties can, towards a stack of three wooden barrels. He beckons Eddie over with enthusiasm.

Eddie feels a churn of emotions within himself, and slows his approach. He sees that boyish eagerness in Dustin that he remembers so fondly, it makes Eddie feel a happy comfort that maybe in some ways Dustin hasn't changed just as he had asked him to that day in the field. There is however a looming air of uncertainty, a fear that Dustin could turn on him at any moment. He hesitates a moment too long and the big grin on Dustin’s face falls to a smaller more awkward one, “Hey man, I…I know we did some really stupid….” Dustin starts to say apologetically, but Eddie cuts him off.

“I won't lie about it, dude. I am totally worried about someone here one-eighty-ing on me,” Eddie shrugs, “But you know I’m working on it buddy.” He smiles and rushes Dustin for a hug as Eddie hopes that surging into an act of affection will make it easier to get over his paranoia. The abrupt movement puts a certain amount of fear into Dustin too. Eddie laughs at Dustin’s initial tensing up. “Seriously, I’ve had over 30 years to mist into your life and rip out your throat and I never have.” Eddie pushes out of the hug gently, “You on the other hand did shoot a stake at me,” Eddie raises his eyebrows at Dustin, trying to repress a huge know it all smile.

Dustin just shakes his head, and reaches around the side of the stacked barrels, something clicks and the front of the three barrels move away making up a secret door to a fridge full of white boxes. Dustin opens one up for Eddie and each box has quite a few blood packs in, all nicely chilled, "I read they should last about 3 weeks, seeing as your consuming them, but I also set up a water bath over there at body temperature, so you can always put it in there first if you so wish?"

Eddie observes all the items slowly, and recognises all the effort that's gone into accommodating him. Just a much more high tech, perfected support system version of what they'd tried all those years ago, when Eddie had been hiding in The Upside Down. A pang of regret goes through him, but he shakes it off. Now isn't the time for that, everyone is moving forward together. He folds his arms and looks at Dustin narrowing his eyes a little, "You know Henderson, I think you finally hit a new level of nerd. Do I just pop one of these bad boys like a capri sun?"

Dustin's smile can barely be contained on his face, he looks at Eddie for a few seconds and he embraces him again but tightly, "Shit! I've missed you, man."

Despite being roughly similar heights now, Eddie still scoops the back of Dustin's head and pulls him in against his shoulder cradling him, "I missed you too," Eddie says gently and smiles fondly down at him, trying not to get too overwhelmed by emotion. He pats Dustin on the back, "Alright that's enough Munson time for you, I think. Y/N will get jealous and you don't want that. Believe me!!"

Dustin gives Eddie arms a last tight grip, removing two blood packs from the fridge before closing it back up. Dustin offers a metal straw and blood pack to Eddie, and with the other he shows Eddie how to use the water bath. He pokes the straw into the pack and listens intently whilst sipping on his sustenance. Dustin's eyes keep being drawn to the blood pack and Eddie feels a little awkward. Dustin raises a finger and disappears into the corner of the room and finds out one of his company travel mugs. He offers it to Eddie who hides the pack inside it, they smile at one another and continue with the tutorial.

"So you and Y/N, huh?" Dustin pries playfully, "How's that going?"

Eddie looks up at him through his bangs, "Pretty good you know. Other than the whole mortal and eternal being thing." Eddie softly laughs and shrugs.

Dustin looks confused, "But you could make them like you right? You know, immortal…"

Eddie's eyes move around the room, "Just on a level it's not like that thought hasn't flashed by in my mind a few times these past couple of years…" he sighs "I figure, it has to be something I don't want to guess at. The kind of feeling when you know unequivocally that what you're doing is the correct thing. Beyond a speck of doubt. If something happened to me, you know…they would be alone." His eyebrows furrow as he contemplates that overwhelming loneliness happening to someone he cared for.

Dustin looks at him with sympathy and a sprinkling of guilt, but then suddenly his face changes. His eyebrows raise up high and he points an accusing finger at Eddie, "YEARS??? YEARS?!!!! What the hell, dude? You were in the cell?? How??!!"

"Like upside down stuff man, shit, I thought if Harrington knew, you did." Eddie says, perplexed.

"STEVE KNEW??!!! STEVE KNEW, AND DIDN'T TELL ME????" Dustin's voice was reaching a much higher pitch than normal.

Eddie's eyes go wide, and he grimaces realising he might have just dropped Steve in big trouble, "Well he didn't exactly know, maybe he just had a lucky guess?"

Dustin purses his lips, tilts his head at Eddie and folds his arms, "Really? Really Eddie? A lucky guess…"

"I mean, maybe…" Eddie starts but is cut off, by a strange sensation. Like a powerful singular vibration through his entire self, he almost loses his balance before righting himself. He frowns and looks at Dustin, "Did you….um…did you feel that?"

"Feel what Eddie? Betrayed by my best friend of nearly 40 years???" Dustin says frustrated.

Eddie finds it hard not to laugh, at Dustin's dramatic reaction, "Honestly dude, how many times have you teased him for being wrong, or making a suggestion you thought was stupid? He probably thought to keep it to himself until he had more evidence, or something." He says reassuringly.

Eddie slurps the end of his chilled drink, and puts it in the designated biohazard trash can, replacing it with the warmer one, and taking an experimental sip. His eyes flood with red and he clasps the cup tightly, the slight warmth penetrating the sides of the travel cup into his hand. He sighs in satisfaction "Oh yeah, that's the stuff!" Eddie comments with a little more growl in his tone, and crosses his eyes a little whilst looking at the straw lustfully.

Eddie remembers suddenly he's in the room with Dustin, and gives him a closed mouth smile, "They are both good, but this is definitely better. Sorry, if that, uh, weirded you out. It's just a temporary thing. Nothing to be afraid of if I'm already eating," he awkwardly laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dustin, though definitely fearful of the transformation in Eddie's eyes and voice, has a full heart from making his old mentor feel accepted, and pats him on the back, "It's all learning, old timer", Dustin giggles mischievously as Eddie puts him in a playful headlock ruffling his hair, "Hey man, I'm trying to keep hold of that as long as I can!! Not so rough, huh?"

Eddie releases him and smiles warmly at him, his eyes changing back to their usual brown irises, their pleasant exchange is interrupted by something Eddie can't quite put his finger on, but it makes him turn around, and then back to Dustin, "Say did you hear something?"

Dustin shakes his head, "No, are you er…feeling ok?"

Eddie actually stops to think about the question because the sensation running through him now is almost entirely foreign to him, "Yeah…totally…" he smiles and laughs a little. "I feel great…like… really good," his smile widens, and he puts his cup down, before jutting his thumb towards the stairs, "I'm just gonna go check on something." He feels a joyful laugh creep up on him again. It almost feels as if he's on the verge of getting the giggles. 

As he climbs the stairs Eddie wonders for a split second if the blood packs were laced with anything but again he shakes his head. Something inside him knows unequivocally that it's not that, it's something else, and he has to get to it. Whatever it was.

He gets to the top of the stairs and a flash of coat runs past him to the outside, "Hey, Y/N. What are you doing?" He shouts after them with a chuckle, but there is no response, they just run out the door.

That's when it happens, lub. Right in the centre of his chest.

No it can't be, he must be imagining things. He tries to brush it off but then it happens again, lub dub.

Eddie puts his hands on his chest and though he can barely feel anything at all, there is something, but an impossible something. He was dead. Undead. 

He decides to rush outside to let Y/N know what is going on but as he steps outside and the door slides shut behind him, he feels it against his fingertips this time, lub dub, lub dub.

His heart was beating, for no purpose, other than to pound.

Excited or fearful, a huge grin unable to be held back any longer, Eddie chases after Y/N through the crunchy snow on the ground. Eager to tell them about what was happening.

That is until he closes in on them, and a few metres away, comes to an abrupt stop. A flash of neon lights to his eyes, he tries to blink them out, and shakes his head, but he's in an old memory, at the guitar shop, with Uncle Wayne at the counter behind him.

The neon lights that had flashed in his eyes took their places snaking around the guitars on the wall and spelling out the word ‘Music’ above them all. He is drawn to a guitar on the wall, raises his hand towards it, and feels a force urging him to get closer. As soon as he reaches out to grab the Stratocaster copy from the wall the feeling is snatched away from him, and he almost loses his footing.  He looked around quickly, to ensure no one saw him reaching out to nothing.

Feeling a little embarrassed he shakes it off and moves along the wall, taking in all the beautiful instruments, their paintwork so shiny his face was reflected in them as he walks along he starts feeling that increasing gravitational pull towards something again, just as before. He definitely wasn't imagining it this time he raises his hand again, and he knows what happens next, Uncle Wayne…except this time he doesn't.

This time a raised hand, mirroring his own, reaches back to him, through the wall of guitar.  The memory melts away and it's happening in the present except opposite him is Y/N, with a backdrop of pure white snow.

Eddie's other hand is still at his chest as his heart furiously pounds in his chest, his mouth partially open, leaving only room for a whimper to escape, and eyes wide.

"Y/N?" He doesn't understand at first why it's a question, but something deep within him, instinctively knows something is different about them.

"On the outside, yes," they reply, stepping forward, "but do not be afraid, you know me. Look deeper Eddie. You've known me for so long," they say their brows push up and together in a soft desperation, "See me, Eddie. Please."

Eddie blinks a few times, mirroring their step forward, his hand still raised towards their's…no…her's…it's definitely her's. He hasn't felt pounding in his chest in decades and it is terrifying, but he can not stop himself being drawn in. "You were at the guitar store," he manages to say quietly.

"Yes! That was me! I moved to see if you would follow," she replies. Eddie tilts his head at her, how could she possibly know that. She takes another step forward. Eddie does the same. 

The feeling of being out of control is making his mind wrestle with itself. He's afraid, but also comforted. This is all an unknown territory that he appears to have known for most of his life. The battle rages within him until their finger tips touch.

"My…my Sweetheart?" He struggles to push past the emotion trying to strangle his words from him, looking deeply into her tear brimmed eyes, and clasps her hand with his own. 

“Hello, my love,” she replies softly, tiny snowflakes settling on her eyelashes, that Eddie can't tear his eyes away from.

An almighty force thunders through Eddie as he grips onto her hand tightly, like a tsunami crashing over him. He feels a tear spill onto his own cheek and pulls her into his arms, and as he does a switch clicks in Eddie's brain, and the tears flood from his eyes, as he sees hers do the exact same.

"I knew you'd see me, my love. I just couldn't get to you," she says as she smiles broadly at him though her brow is contorted with the same overwhelming feelings he's experiencing.

"You've been here this whole time," he sobs, squeezing her tightly in his arms, "waiting for me?" 

"I've waited longer than you know, and I'd wait longer still if I had to. You are my destiny Eddie. We are two halves of a whole. They tried so hard," she points at the sky "but not even they could tear us apart, for long. We always found our way back." 

Eddie blinks the tears for his eyes quickly, an annoyance getting in his way from seeing her, "I always found you. I'll never lose you again. You're stuck with me forever, now."

He lifts her up and spins her around, her laughter fills the skies and his heart with the most beautiful melody he has ever heard.

Eddie's heart quietens to its usual silence, and finally he feels something that has eluded him his whole entire life, absolute blissful peace.

The End

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Songs I listened to writing this chapter:

[ficauthor]

inspired by the prompt by @danphanwritingprompts:

Danny narrowed his eyes as the Uber arrived at the church, and he finally remembered the occasion. “Wait, Mom? Did we just pregame Vlad’s funeral?” Danny asked. Maddie scowled. “Shut up and act sober. For some reason, your dad loved that miserable creep,” she told him. “It’s the only way to get through the day,” Jazz agreed, fumbling to open the door and step out.

and some other headcannons that I've seen float around tumblr about trans Danny fic below cut if you dont wanna follow the link.

Looking out the window was making him nauseous, like really  really nauseous. The kind of nauseous he only got when sick or from a good punch. He knew a thing or two about good punches. He’d been taking them for a few years now.

It really wasn’t fair if you asked him. One should ask him because it was an experience that only he could experience. After all, halfa's were rare as can be. Skulker had certainly told him enough for him to know. Every brush with alcohol in his younger days was, well, a mixed bag. He processed it faster than the average person so he was lucky in that aspect that he got drunk faster. But if anything his messing about with alcohol before he was 21 told him it was that it also left much faster than normal. Bullshit ghost rules and all of that. Genuinely being a ghost even half one had very few upsides. Some people online speculated about how cool ghost powers must be to have but clearly none of them knew about the burden that it came with. Sometimes he still wished that he didn’t know. 

However this time for whatever reason the alcohol was hitting him and staying. Maybe it was because the previous times he’d been drinking cheap party booze in Dash’s garage with Sam and Tucker, no one but the three of them aware that they were even there. Instead this time the booze was some semi expensive shit, he didn��t know the name or type but he’d been promised quality. Why he of all people was being given quality alcohol he'd never know but he wasn’t going to turn it down.

That being said seemed the trade off was intense nausea. It wasn’t that bad all things considered, he actually preferred being sloshed for the upcoming event but his body was not agreeing with that. Not that his body agreed with a lot of things. The disagreement between ghost and human sometimes really bit him in the ass. His head was floaty, the world in front of him was spinning badly, maybe it’d be worth it to never drink again. Especially if he was going to have this reaction . If only he’d invited Sam and Tucker. They were great fun and always knew how to reel him in. Man he missed them, if only they didn’t all go to different colleges. But nooo all of their majors just had to have few overlapping colleges. At least they were all within a drives (or in his case a flying) distance. When he wasn’t feeling too sick and unbalanced he’d have to fly over to their dorms for a movie night. It’d be nice. Sam might even be able to get them into someplace cool again.

In a stagnant attempt to push the feeling away he turned away from the window and towards his family. Jazz was studying a text on her phone. Probably a message from her girlfriend at university. Maybe she was inviting her. That’d be nice. She seemed nice when he’d saved her as Phantom a month ago, then everyone was nice when their life had just flashed before their eyes and they were rescued from it’s visions. Even when he and Valerie were on the worst of terms he was always grateful when ever she rescued him in either form. Bar Johnny 13 his sisters' taste in partners wasn’t actually all that bad. He actually liked her last girlfriend. Even then with Johnny he wasn’t sure how much of that was actually her taste and how much was Kitty’s possession. 

Certainly Jazz’s apprehension couldn’t be blamed, three of her previous partners both highschool and college were driven away by how weird their family was. She claimed she was fine with it, something about them not truly accepting all parts of her but still. That sucked. School had been rough enough, he couldn’t even count the amount of people that had been weirded out from being his friend because of his parents. Well there was also his reputation but his parents being renowned ghost hunters and chaotic town kooks certainly did not help. Looking back on it more of that might have actually been on his reputation. A nerd with A+ grades until highschool only to then end up with Ds on the best of days and bruises on the worst. Yeah some of that was probably on him.

Jazz gave him a look, he’d spaced out and looked at her for too long, it was weird now. He gave her a shrug and turned to their mother.

Laughing would be rude; he had to remind himself when he spotted her dancing along to the car radio in her dorky adult grooving. It was peaceful in a way. A down time he didn't usually get to appreciate before something bad (normally ghosts) interrupted. It was almost nice in a way to be calm with his mom and sister. Even if the former looked really really stupid.

He snorted anyway at his mom’s dance moves. Discombobulated shoulder jerks and little hand motions mixed in with little head rolls that had no rhyme or reason. It was wildly out of beat and didn’t match the tone of the song on radio. It was definitely the kind of dancing that Tucker would disparagingly call “white people shit”. The thought alone of Tucker's pain at his parents' dance moves was almost enough to send him into hysterics.

Man he missed Tucker.

He’d have to check in on Tucker soon, since he started the latest school assignment he’d sort of ghosted everyone, for the lack of a better word. It was probably the stress of dealing with his assignment partners, he’d done the same last time. Still… in a town and world with ghosts it couldn't hurt to try to check in on him. Tuck was a big boy now he could hold his own in a ghost fight but he didn’t like the idea of leaving him to it. Call him what you will but obsessions were just like that. 

Maybe he was a little possessive.

Just a touch.

“Oh Danny!” his mom squealed as a new song filtered in. The Uber driver rolled his eyes, clearly he thought no one could see him but Danny caught it in the rear view mirror. ” I love this song, isn't it rad!”

He tried not to laugh, he really did, but it was so ridiculous. His parents were doing this on purpose! They had to be! There was no way that they weren’t no one was that out of touch. That behind on lingo. Warm giggles and chuckles bubbled forth, messy and loud. The kind of laugh only those closest to him could coax out of him. Back in school it was only Tuck and Sam that got him to laugh like that (maybe Jazz if she was lucky) make him lose his composure so quickly, but more and more readily his parents had been able to also force the laughs out of him.

If only fourteen year old him could see him now. He’d be so embarrassed. Sitting in the back of an Uber laughing openly at something silly his mom was doing.  She said something he couldn’t catch, teased him probably for laughing. A random pop song and the air coming in from the drivers open window were just loud enough to cover even a raised voice. Even still the there was comfort. Whatever she said was from a place of love.

He loved car rides sometimes. He didn’t always appreciate them when he was younger, kind of like how he felt about his parents. Especially when he was 14 but now? They were some of his favourite times spent with his parents. He just couldn’t help it, something about the rolling scene and music with easy conversation lulled him. It helped keep his obsession at bay, blocking it from flaring if he could see that some of the most important people in his life were there, in front of him safe and sound.

He still ached. Felt that compulsion to check Sam and Tuck. Rather than scream like normal it was a soothing whisper. He was able to drunkenly send them a text about how much he loved them without the skin crawling need to see that they were still standing.

 The Uber slowed to a crawl, the Sudan squealing as they stopped. Man that guy really needed to replace his breaks. He could get in a wreck and then whoever he was ferrying around could get seriously hurt.

No!

He shook his head; he couldn't let his obsession obsess on something so small. It was probably safe to look out of the window again so he chanced a look. Danny narrowed his eyes as the Uber arrived at the church, and he finally remembered the occasion.

“Wait, Mom? Did we just pregame Vlad’s funeral?” Danny asked. 

Maddie scowled,“ Shut up and act sober. For some reason, your dad loved that miserable creep,” she told him.

“It’s the only way to get through the day,” Jazz agreed, fumbling to open the door and step out.

Damn he hadn’t meant to forget the occasion but he couldn’t help it his mind was already prone to wandering and the alcohol was just making it worse. Really it was a miracle he passed highschool in the first place, even when sober his mind just struggled to latch onto subjects, and that was before he had to nightlight as Phantom, hell it wasn’t even nightlighting it was a full double life. Really he didn't even know how he was managing college with the heroing on the side. Best guess if he was pressed to give one was that his parents’ disappointment and the desire to go to space was combining into the ultimate peer pressure. Funny how his brain worked like that, maybe Jazz could explain that to him. She was good for stuff like that. Explanations for why his brain was weird. She tried to give him an acronym for it one time something with A's. An attention thing of some sort. He'd have to ask her about it again sometime so he could wrap his mind around it.

“Hey!” Jazz opened the door, her face inches from his, the scent of some fruity cocktail on her breath,” get out Danny, and remember, act normal. At least for dad’s sake.”

“Yeah,” he waved her off stumbling to his feet, honestly it wasn’t fair that the ground was so unsteady beneath him, kind of transphobic if you asked him. “If you wanted me to act normal then why’d we all get plastered?” he joked.

“Shush,” Jazz clamped a hand on his face, their slow amble up the church's  many  steps paused. “Don’t lick a gift horse in the mouth Danny, you know this will be insufferable.” 

He licked her hand, she recoiled, wiping the spit off on her fancy black dress. 

“Danny!”

He stuck out his tongue in retaliation.

“Behave, ”she chided.

He rolled his eyes and followed her. It was just a funeral, what was the worst they could get into?

 The second he stepped in the church threshold he knew. It put his whole body on edge, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and the faintest trickled of mist? ghost vaper? Ghost breath? He actually had no clue what it was that came out of his mouth. 

Well he never really understood what he was saying half the time anyways, his mouth had a habit of running out from under him. The worst case of that was just the other week, he was talking to Sam over skype about something and he’d forgotten that she knew about Phantom, how really he had no clue, and he just went on for about twenty minutes making some out there wild excuse for why he’d missed their last hang out when she’d stopped him.

Honestly it was getting embarrassing, even worse was trying to keep things he said to his parents in each form separate. He really had to tell them soon.

It was so easy when he was 14 the breadth of his conversations with them as Phantom at the time could be summed up with a snarky quip from him or a “I’m gonna dissect you” from them. Now though they seemed to be fully taking seriously the notion that ghosts had depth to them. Which while true was deeply inconvenient for him. That meant he had to have interactions with them as Phantom and keep his identity straight ( ha  ). Maybe he should be grateful, they weren’t threatening to dissect him anymore that was certainly a plus, they still definitely wanted to examine him however.  He had considered it, in the depth of the night, allowing them to examine him only to drop the transformation part way through. It’d be funny, just a little bit to catch them off guard like that. But they didn’t deserve a coming out like that. He stifled a groan, he thought he was done with the closet when he’d come out but no life just had to never end and add in ghosts.

“Danny,” Jazz hissed at him. 

He slurred out a huh at her in confusion.

Damn he’d been staring out at nothing, the Pastor? Priest? He didn’t know the difference to be honest, was still talking about Vlad. Shit that’s right! The second he’d walked in his ghost sense had gone haywire, Vlad was still (half) alive in that plush ass casket. He wondered how bad it'd be to fake a stomach ache and transform into Phantom for some ass kickery. Knowing his luck though Vlad might just feign full death embrace just to make a fool of him. 

He would do that, fake his death, hell he was doing it right now! Motive was still unclear to him but Danny was going to get to the bottom of it. The man at the front, religious figure of whatever denomination, was gesturing large and big as he wrapped up.  It was really official, and stuffy, when he finally fully died he wanted his funeral to be nothing like this. Maybe Tuck's ideas of dramatic funeral pranks were where it was at. Or maybe even Sam's ideas of celebratory parties that remembered the dead's life. He wouldn’t object to either of those. 

Alcohol was fading out of his system again, well it’d been nice while it’d lasted but it’d probably be best to not be sloshed if Vlad wanted to cause a scene. 

He sat at the edge of his seat as his father came up for a speech.

“Vlad,” his father stopped to blow his nose,” Vlad was a good friend of mine in college, w-we,” his lip trembled, his large jaw hammering up and down as he stammered for words. It took everything in Danny to not sink into the pew bench in embarrassment. Jack was for all intensive purposes the only person in the entire church that seemed genuinely broken up about the billionaire’s death.

“We drifted apart for a while, and he’d just started to come back to mine and my wife's lives a few years ago and- and- I-I sorry,” he winced as his fathers voice died.

While he didn’t understand his fathers affection for the man his heart couldn't help but ache for the man’s sorrow. His father had such a large heart. He was so trusting and held so much affection in his large beating heart. It was a weakness and a strength. One his mother often said he inherited. He didn’t know if he could see it. He wasn’t so soft, so trusting, so eager to love and care as his father. Then the larger man hadn’t been burned the same. Hadn’t had his heart half electrocuted to death like him.

His mom walked up on the stage, he was briefly impressed by her composure, she was buzzed but also in heels and looked to all the church exceedingly well put together. Quietly she was speaking her hands gently on Jack’s shoulders patting his back soothingly. She often sold herself short. Stating her heart not to be as big, Danny didn’t believe that, not really, his mother was just more careful in those she let in.

“I wasn’t as close to him as my husband,” she admitted, having softly taken the mic from Jack. her fingers were curled around it softly, but her other hand was in her hair. She was fidgeting and searching for words,” but I’m sure those he was close to will miss him dearly.” she said tight lipped. Jack whispered something to Maddie quietly making her smile tightly and nod. The man moved to his seat and let his wife continue his speech in his stead. 

It was nothing notable really, Danny wasn’t one for paying attention to speeches or lectures and a funeral would not be an exception. He caught a few snippets though, his moms implication that she liked him better in college. A line hoping that in death that he could hopefully move on from the past. He really tried to not laugh at that one clearly because she'd noticed the exes. How many of them had known before? How many of the exes had to learn of their blueprint right then and there in the funeral.

Still he sat teetering on the edge of his seat, half paying attention to her words and mind half trained on that open casket. Vlad lay there in the plush box waiting. What for he couldn’t tell yet but he wasn’t going to be caught unaware.

The speeches couldn’t have ended any slower in his opinion. He wished that the alcohol hadn’t run it’s course already. It was so much easier to get through shit when his mind was quieted and his obsession was dulled. Instead he was forced to wait, his waking obsession tearing at his insides making him wait. Watch the lingering guests with apprehensive eyes. A few were expected. Gaggle of divorced exes. Some smattering of people that vaguely had Vlad's chin and nose. It was bizarre, some looked wildly like him and others well. They were utter strangers to Danny. They all were but they seemed almost faceless in how unknown they were. Interestingly none of them really seemed that choked up. He’d never expected troves of people depressed about Vlad’s passing. Still to only have one sobbing mourner? Maybe they just grieved differently...

Yeah maybe.

About when he got his water from the refreshments table he realized that Vlad really wasn't pulling a stunt. Still he had no clue why he was in that damn casket if he was still (half) alive in there. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, his worst nightmare was being trapped in one of those, yet Vlad had clambered in willing foot after foot laying stricken and board straight for all that he knew to see him. It didn’t make sense. There had to be some trick.

There had to be.

He thought maybe after his father had bowed his head over the casket head in hands loud body wracking sobs shaking his shoulders that Vlad might then spring to life (ha) and attack them. No, instead he remained laying in that coffin, the soft plush pillow under his head holding him still, the flowers in hand still clutched in strict fingers. He must have some sort of long con going on then. Some sort of goal he was aiming to reach by laying stricken and dead.

Wouldn’t be the first time the man had pulled a bizarre stunt. The time he’d kidnapped Danny and his mom sprang to mind. But there were few situations that came to mind where faking one’s death could come in handy. 

A severe looking man walked up to him a small plate of hors d'oeuvres in hand.  Sam would hate the sight of the small snacks, not a single one was vegetarian. And Tuck? He’d be laughing his head off at the name and size. He really had to rope them into a trip to the movies or arcade sometime soon.

The man greeted him, straightening his professional looking tie as he spoke. The man was exceedingly out of place, in a clean and crisp business suit that hardly matched the tone of mourning clothes. Then his parents were wearing their jumpsuits under their fancy clothes so glass houses and all that.

The man was painfully dull giving Danny his condolences in a rather stilted and clunky tone. The man clearly didn't want to be there. He raised an eyebrow at the man as he finally asked how he knew the ‘deceased’. 

Telling the man something to the effect of, “Just through my parents,” somehow making it clear to the man that he wasn’t particularly choked up by the billionaire's death. Gee he wondered what gave it away, his flat unaffected tone? Or the fact that Vlad was a billionaire with no moral backbone. 

Huh, he must really be missing Sam a lot to be thinking like that. he hated to admit it but she was kinda right. 

Business suit was disinterested in conversation with Danny after that, he hastily wrapped up the conversation. Man even muttered “shame.” under his breath, if Danny wasn’t half dead he wouldn't have caught it. But well nothing ever really worked out well for bureaucrats did it?

Had Vlad seriously faked his death to avoid paying a few measly bucks? The man was a billionaire! He must really owe them a mean amount of money for them all to arrive at the funeral like this. Maybe they hoped the will would work in their favour? Not far in front of the refreshment table were two suits talking unabashedly about the amounts that Vlad owed them. If it weren’t for the setting Danny would think that they were coming or going from an important meeting.

For what was probably the first time he properly looked at all of the guests. Actually taking them in, a good chunk like he’d noticed before were the exes that half looked like his mom, and their kids (hopefully they weren’t biologically Vlads). Then there were the vague family members that looked like Vlad watered down with kindness. But the rest? Suits and-

Oh.

Oh he had to step behind an archway and stuff a fist in his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. Vlad had fucking bounty hunters being sent after him! It was karmic, he had to stop himself from busting a gut right then and there in the middle of a church. It was already blasphemy enough to be the walking dead he didn't want to also throw in disrespecting the (only mostly) dead into the mix. 

Well at least they weren’t all debtors, lurking around the corners and edges of the room was a guy he’d worked with as Phantom a few years ago. He was kind of hot in a rugged sort of way. If it weren’t for Sam and Tuck he’d have considered flirting seriously with the other man. As it was his joking flirting got him in trouble with the other two.

He was really acting up being normal, that rugged man. Mingling about with other people dressed neatly.

Clear to only  Danny what he was, what the others like him were, the man wandered unaware that Danny was watching him. Ironically he only knew they were bounty hunters because Vlad had hired the rugged man and his crew to hunt Phantom that time a few years ago and now? Oh the tables have turned. Someone, maybe one of the exes, or the debtors wanted him dead. Damn what had Vlad done?

Ghost Zone inhabitants had mixed opinions on him, many of which wanted him dead or knocked down a peg. But that was the Ghost Zone, half of them wanted  Danny  dead at some point or another. This was the human world. Earth and shit, it was much harder to piss off someone to the level of murder. Not impossible but damn. He grinned at this, Vlad was (half) alive and (sorta) well in that casket and he couldn’t do anything if he started to stir shit up. Life was beautiful, twinkling and gorgeous, he decided. He Didn’t need Tucker and Sam to have fun.

 He started with one of the exes. He went out of his way to ignore her dyed red hair and pale purple eyes as he talked with her. It wasn’t her fault that Vlad had a complex, he reminded himself as the woman talked. Fault couldn’t be pinned on her for the parallels he could search between his mother and her. She was nice in a weird way, again really like his mom. It was unnerving. He kept trying to ignore her beady eyed gremlin of a child as she talked to him about the will. 

Whatever Vlad had done for all the people in his life to only care about the will and the will alone Danny wanted to do the express opposite. It was almost painful in a way to watch all of these people act like they weren’t only here for the money. Served the man right, it was still depressing, the man had everything on paper but not a damn thing in reality.

“Do you think his daughter will show?” he tactfully added into the conversation after the woman had made some condolences about his family and Vlad. 

“Daughter?” the woman asked, her large eyes blinking slowly,” I'm sure you're mistaken, Vlad told me he doesn’t have kids.”

“Oh,” he said, feigning apology, inside he was loving this, sure Vlad couldn’t admit the truth about the clones but clearly the man had seriously left out some details to his ex lovers. “Are you sure? ‘Elle is nineteen now,” he said, it was technically true if you counted right. She was also only seven if you counted right. It was all about semantics.

“Ninete-” the woman stammered something hard settling in her eyes,” he told me he didn’t want to have children,” she looked down at her angry eyed child (he hoped the little dude didn’t kick him in the shin) who had a hand fisted in the end of her dress. “If you’ll excuse me, Daniel, this was an- enlightening conversation.” he watched her walk away to a woman with a big chunky bracelet.

Also a redhead. Of course.

A sharp pain seared in the top of his ear he prevented himself from yowling out as the fingers attached dragged him over to a corner.

"ow ow ow," he whined out quietly trying heard not to draw attention to himself. It didn't really work.

“What the  fuck  are you doing?” Jazz hissed at him when they were hidden away from the rest of the group.

“First of all: ow!” He rubbed his ear delicately between his finger pads,” I’m not a child anymore, maybe borderline sibling abuse was funny in 80’s sitcoms but it's not anymore.”

Jazz rolled her eyes,” second of all?” she pressed, she was still slightly buzzed and yet she was still holding herself with so much composure. Kind of impressive, if she hadn’t just physically threatened to rip his ear off.

“Secondly I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Not do-” Jazz floundered,” Daniel!” she hissed out again struggling to keep her tone low. Damn she was mad, she only pulled out the full name when really fucked up,” I know your relationship with Vlad was- complicated.”

He snorted,” he tried to kill me multiple times, Jazz.”

“Yes bu-”

“Dark Dan,’’ he pressed further.

“I get it!” she snapped in a whisper-shout,” but a funeral isn-”

“He isn’t dead Jazz. Or really fully dead I guess I should say,” he laughed

Jazz rolled her eyes,” This is concerning behaviour Danny.”

“W-what?” he asked.

She tapped her chin pensively, she was psychoanalyzing him again, gag, “You must be transferring your complicated feeling about him into-”

“Jazz,” he groaned. It was best to stop her before she got on a roll, “Ghost senses remember? He’s still not fully dead, I can tell. He faked his death.”

“Okay,” she said with a sigh," I'm not saying I believe you, but say he did fake his death-”

“He did.”

She shot him a look, “Why? Why would he fake his death? He’s a rich ceo multi-billionaire with more money than most of us can conceive of, nonetheless actually obtain, what does he get out of faking his death?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, this was easier when Jazz was talking to one of Vlad’s cousins ignoring him stirring the pot. 

He explained what he’d pieced together so far, with the suits and hunters lurking around the edges of the room it was easy to point out how out of place they look. Slowly a realization fell on her face, an acceptance of what he was saying.

“When I was talking to the stepford exes they were all talking about who would get the estate.”

“Do they know who?” he asked.

Jazz shook her head,” no the will was kept really secretive from all of them. There was even a bit of an altercation from two of the younger ex girlfriends over it.”

He winced at that, he couldn’t blame them for being mad he just wished Vlad wasn’t faking death for them to take it out on. “The bottle red and the one with the big bracelet?” he prompted, remembering the end of his conversation with the former.

“No that’s Maddison and Maggie, the two that fought were Morgan and Melenie.”

“Maddison? Maggie? Morgan? Melenie?” he repeated with a grimace voice getting higher with each name.

“Yeah I know,” she said with a sigh,” a textbook case of projecting an ex, or in this case crush, on future partners leading to a string of failed relationships,” she frowned looking over at the group of clustered red heads. Danny followed and examined them, they were all looking at something their eyes occasionally darted over to- 

Oh of course, mom, they ‘d probably done the math already. He winced at the thought. He’d half thought about it before  finding the notion funny. Now in his sparkling sobriety of the evening he couldn’t find the humour.

“At least they all mostly get along,” Jazz offered, trying to look away from how the dozen or so women were looking at the one woman they were all stacked against.

“Really?” he blinked at her,” I’d have thought that they’d all be fighting cause of the- well you know,” he gestured to the, everything, of the situation.

She shook her head,” no, they seem to all understand that it was all on Vlad, two of them, Mackenzie and Melody,” she clarified to even more of his confusion,” even found out that they were seeing him at the same time. How they didn’t know with all of the press that followed him I’ll never know, but they decided to team up on the legal front if there are any issues with the will.”

“Really.”

Jazz nodded,” yeah I was surprised too, but good for them, Vlad went around causing too many issues in their lives.”

He nodded in agreement as he looked at at the sea of redheads, some of them had grown out their hair revealing dark roots, some had hair styled in poufy curls reminiscent of his mothers old style and one of them had completely cut her hair into a half shaved look, it was actually similar to the look that Sam had now.

“Want to cause some problems for him?” he asked.

“Danny, legally and socially he’s dead, what could we do?”

“Legally yeah,” he agreed,” but technically he’s still half alive in there, and can hear everything that people say-”

“Are you suggesting that we ruin his reputation?” Jazz asked with a poorly hidden smile. He loved that in the years she’d loosened up. It was a good look on her, relaxation.

“Ruin?” He said, in mock scandal, ”I'm merely suggesting we bring it down to where it belongs.”

“Oh ‘merely’ what is that a fifth grade word? I'm impressed!” Jazz teased.

He shoved her lightly with a laugh,” oh fuck off I’m in college now you know.”

“Really? Accredited and everything?”

He stifled his laugh,” shut up, you know dealing with ghost shit messed with my grades.”

Truthfully he’d expected her to joke further about it, to razz him about doing so much, or maybe analyze him, diagnosis him with trauma. Instead she hugged him.

“I’m sorry so much was put on your shoulders so young,” her voice was raw. Too raw.  

He patted her back, stomach squirming. Because what was he to do with that? The tender care held for him in the cracks of her fingers. The sorrow that settled in her pores all for him?

“Hey stop that,” he eventually said, pulling back,” or I'll make clockwork take me back in time so you never find out.” He didn’t mean it, he never did.

Jazz laughed a little wetly, he didn’t comment on it. Why would he? Also didn’t get a chance as she ruffled his hair, despite the fact that he was now much taller than her. “People are allowed to care about you, asshole.”

He scrunched his nose up at that,” ew what? I detest affection.”

“Oh detest another good one, really racking up those vocab words huh?” she sniffled her hands on her hips, a little lean in her back as she smirked.

Snorting, he stepped back and fixed his hair,” how about we make this a competition?”

“Huh?”

“First one to make Vlad burst out of his casket and rage in ghost mode wins.”

“Really? What would the winner get?”

He tapped his chin making a humming noise,” how about this, loser has to reveal their secret.”

Jazz laughed nervously,” I don’t have a secret Danny.”

Danny gave her a look,” Jazz, I’ve met your girlfriend.”

She bit her lip looking down at his outstretched hand, a debate playing in her eyes.

“Hey you don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” he said softly,” this is just meant for fun after all.” he knew better than most what forcing this stuff did.

”No, it’s fine,” she took his hand and shook, if a little clumsily,” that doesn’t mean they have to meet her though.”

“Oh don’t worry,” he said,” it won’t be my fault if they do that’ll be entirely on them.”

“Danny!” she exclaimed at him as he fled to the other side of the church. Finally this funeral was going to be interesting!

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked the swaying uncle of Vlad. The man smelled of beer and hors d'oeuvres. Not that Danny could judge if it wasn’t for the thick layer of spray on deodorant that his mom smothered him in right before he got in the uber then he’d probably smell just as rank. Then there was the fact that he’d pregamed to.

The older man narrowed his eyes at Danny, he was shocked to see the man he looked to hardly be much older than Vlad yet he was his uncle? He’d gone to ask about it but thought better about it, the less lore he knew about Vlad’s family the better, he really didn’t want to know about how many kids and when and how the Masters ‘clan’ had. Conversation with the older man was… stilted, to say the least. But he was certain that if he told him something then it wouldn’t get back to him. And that was half the game wasn’t it? Finding a way to spread the most rumours without people finding out it was him or Jazz. All without powers of course, that almost went without saying. 

The man didn’t seem too broken up about Vlad, they probably weren’t that close and Danny had always gotten the impression from the billionaire that he was a smidge too snobbish to fully have developed relationships with people. As often as he teased Jazz for being snobby, she at least was nowhere near as bad as Vlad. Man damn near invented snobbishness and assholery. He’d have to ask clockwork if Vlad’s ancestors were just as bad. Judging by some of his family, probably not.

“Well before he passed,” Danny prompted, pausing in a way to snag the older man's attention.

“Yes?” the older man asked when he didn’t continue.

“Well,” Danny fidgeted with his nail,”  you know his signed Packers jersey?”

The older man nodded eagerly.

Danny looked to the side,” it’s a fake,” he whispered to the man.

“Really?”

He nodded,” yeah, but please don’t tell anyone,” he added,” it’s bad enough that they know he was banned from buying the team-”

“He was what?” 

Danny fought to hide a smirk. He knew it’d be easier to sell this lie if he started smaller.

“I thought everyone knew!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, most of the town knows, it’s just, no one talked about it to be polite.” okay that might have been overselling it a bit but the distant relative seemed to really be drinking it in.

“What did he do?”

Danny looked side to side like he didn’t want anyone to overhear.

“Well a few years ago when he was closing the deal to buy the team he got caught stalking some of the members!”

“Really?” the uncle asked,” wha- why?”

Danny shrugged,” they never really found the reason he was following them, he was even trying to seduce some of the wives.”

The man gasped,” I- really?” 

Danny nodded. “But you can’t tell anyone you have to promise me.”

He watched as the man smiled in what he thought was slyness,” of course! I just, with all of those wives he had!”

 Within the next five minutes Danny heard the rumour circulate across the room and it had grown legs. How glorious those rumours legs were. 

“I heard he’d tried to break up a marriage on the team!” an ex wife (Maggie maybe?) hissed.

The other ex (Mary? The other woman might have called her) laughed,” would it really be any surprise? With what he did to Morgan and Melenie?”

The first woman nodded sagely,” fair I can’t believe I even fell for his tricks.”

All things considered the rumour was spreading well, and there was not even a gasp of a suggestion that he was the source. He couldn’t wait to hear what Jazz had invented, with the rumbles he’d already started to hear, it was probably great. Jazz always did have a way of getting into people’s heads. Find what interests them the most.

“So this daughter of Vlad's?” the woman he was talking to prompted, he vaguely remembered Jazz saying her name was Maddison. She’d found him again some time later; her child now safely deposited over by the other kids with their group babysitter. They were in the middle of the church now, the other two still whispering about the packers' spouses.

“ ‘Elle?” he asked as if he’d forgotten.

The woman nodded her curls bouncing as she did.

“Can I see a picture of her?”

He pulled up an older photo of them hanging out, the picture was grainy and they were both sticking their tongues out at the camera. Shit he’d really forgotten how alike they looked.

“You both-” the woman said before stopping. She glanced at his parents. 

Shit he had to go into damage control,” well she’s also my cousin,” he fibbed.

“Cousin?”

“Yes! Technically once removed? Or something like that, I didn’t meet her until a few years ago, we were really blown away with the family resemblance!” he laughed. "Really it's uncanny!"  He continued.

Too far! Too far! He was leaning into it too much! It wasn’t like he could just tell her the truth, that Dani was Vlad's only successful half dead clone of him! Then he’d also have to out two things about himself to her.

“She travels a lot,” he added. He really needed to learn when to shut his big mouth,” she was in Paris a few years ago actually.”

“Really?”

He couldn’t even blame the alcohol! He was just this stupid naturally huh? They’d been saying it for years Sam and Tucker, if only he’d taken them seriously before this. His idiocy might really be terminal.

“Yup, I haven’t seen her in awhile though, hopefully she visits again!”

Scrutinizing eyes scanned him up and down, darting from each corner of his face hunting out the ruse. He really needed to learn to shut his big mouth.

“Do you have her number?”

Crashing noises filled his brain. Her number? The last thing that he had expected was interest in ‘Elle. he’d just thought that they’d get upset at Vlad and leave it at that.

“ ‘E-elle's?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sorry if this is prying but me and the other ladies,” she gestured to a few of them,” we’re talking and we want to support her!”

“I-” he hesitated, he hadn’t really planned for this,” what?”

The older woman nodded,” we all talked it out and if we get the estate we’re going to support one another and the kids, and it seems like ‘Elle just got stuck in the middle of this like the rest of us.”

“Yeah uh, let me just text her first?”

“Of course honey!”

Danny walked away from that conversation feeling distinctly weirder than before. Regardless he pulled up his phone and slid out the keyboard.

He opened up the “With an I” contact.

  Hey i accidentally got you adopted by like fifteen random women that used to date vlad

5:43 p.m.

  You what? Lul

5:45 p.m.

 He looked up around him before typing out the next message

  Yeah long story short he faked his death. Its weird

5:46 p.m.

I’m at the funeral and the exes wanna like support you?

5:46 p.m.

  Well Vlad wasn’t good for much but at least i now have a multitude of mothers

5:47 p.m.

  So i can give them your number?

5:47 p.m.

  Yeah have at it! If this causes chaos for vlad im all for it !

5:48 p.m.

“So her phone number is.”

By the time he’d separated himself from that conversation a few more rumours were floating.

“I heard that the reason he died in a car crash is because he was on the run from the law!” one of vlad's relatives whispered.

“Really!” another responded.

Elsewhere some of the attending staff were murmuring too. “I heard that he got caught smuggling maple syrup cans from canada!”

“Cans?”

“Yes apparently the good stuff is canned there.”

He walked to a new group this time with the suits.

“I hear that the money in the accounts is dirty.”

“According to my source his invested stocks were backed with illegal funds.”

“If there’s drugs really attached to it like I was told then I don't want anything to do with it.”

“I agree it's hard enough to get money from wills with spouses involved. It's even harder if the feds sniff any drugs.”

“It might not even be worth it to try with all of the ladies,” a different suit complained,” I overheard them talking about lawyering up together if anything goes wrong.”

Another much older suit scoffed,” this business was much easier before the exes started working together.”

Finally he heard his own new rumour starting to gain some traction.

“Wasn’t it found out that he was stealing science equipment from the nearby college?”

“Oh whatever for?”

“I heard it was for making a specialty shampoo.”

“I’ve always wondered how he kept his hair so nice and shiny.”

 Jazz was good, too good, considering that neither of them had really clicked into any social cliques in highschool. Now she was gossiping better than even any of the A-listers.

“It’s just such a shame that they can’t come,” Jazz was even fake sobbing, damn he was going to have to up his game.

“Who couldn’t come?” One of Vlad's older cousins asked, Danny wondered if Jazz was screaming inside at the hand she had around one of the older exes' waists, it was casual and tender. If one of Vlad's exes was getting together with his cousin because of the  funeral , Danny would shriek from laughter, hell if he accidentally used his ghostly wail it’d be well worth it. Vlad of all people deserved to have a partner snatching occur to him. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” Jazz said,” I thought that everyone knew,” she looked from side to side,” please don’t tell the other ex wives Monroe I’d hate for their feelings to get hurt over this.”

Damn she was good. The wife- Monroe who was leaning comfortably on the cousin nodded.

“Of course Jazzie,” she said in a deep comforting New York accent,” this can be brought up to them later more delicately later.  Though I must admit,” she said after a pause where Jazz thanked her for her discretion.” I myself am curious who wasn’t able to come.”

“Well you know how he used to do ghost research with mom and dad?”

Where was she going with this? She was selling it well, Danny had to admit but for the life of him he couldn’t guess where this was going.

“Yes of course,” the cousin nodded as Monroe spoke.

“I can’t name the amount of times he used to write home in our youth about his little ghost adventures,” the cousin added.

Jazz nodded ,” well at the school there was the Lunch Lady Ghost and the Box Ghost, he was seeing them romantically in between their stays in the ghost zone.”

Danny held back a snort box ghost! If he laughed too hard in that moment he’d drop the ghost form and would fall on top of the group that’d gathered around her. As much control as he’d mastered over his abilities over the past couple years there was nothing that would be able to save him from Jazz’s wit. 

“I’m sure box ghost is very helpful for moves,” one of the crowd commented amicably. The others though had nothing to say. Clearly they’d all actually met Box Ghost. 

The gossip might have even stayed in that circle if it weren’t for another one of the cousins being right there and then deciding to tell his wife, who then told one of the ex-wives, who then told another, who then told a suit. So on and so forth.

By the time that Danny was back in human form and settled on the opposite side of Jazz’s conversation he was hearing the children that some of the wives had brought talking about Vlad ‘holding hands’ with the Box Ghost and Lunch Lady. Why couldn’t he have thought about that? It was so good, it was perfect, literally no one could prove it wrong. And embarrassing, seriously Box Ghost!

All the stuff he knew to be true about Vlad sounded so far-fetched.

Half ghost?

Well most people didn’t know about them.

The time he infected his two closest and longest friends with ghost pimples?

Needed the half ghost context. 

If only there was some-

“I hate Vlad!” one of the kids near him cried out stomping down his foot.

Unsurprisingly all of the kids agreed, okay he was a little surprised, usually Vlad had the wool pulled over on most people. So the fact that all of these kids  hated him really meant something.

“He stole my cotton candy at the fair!”

“Well he told me that I didn’t need to see daddy anymore cause he was gonna replace him!”

Eager ears pointed at them he drank in their every complaint. He’d known that Vlad was cartoonish levels of evil for awhile (see the infecting teens with ghost acne for personal gain as proof, or kidnapping him and his mom) but never had he truly expected for him to be so stupid as to do it all in the open in front of all of these kids. Then again some of this might be his obsession making him act out. Smallest sliver of him almost felt bad about that, the fact that Vlad was in a way forced to be this way, but it wasn’t really anything he wasn’t before. Obsessions just highlighted what was already there. Made it more severe.

 “Uhm excuse me,” he tapped the shoulder of one of the shorter women,” Mallory?” He'd asked the babysitter for her name but for the life of him he was struggling to keep all of the exes straight in his head. There were just too many of them and they all looked too similar to his mom.

“Yes,” her eyes flickered with recognition,” Danny?”

He laughed,” yeah that’s me!”

“Some of the others were mentioning you!” she said with a bright smile taking his hand,” thank you for telling us about ‘Elle! I can’t believe he kept her a secret from all of us for so long.”

He nodded in agreement,” well about Vlad-”

“Oh no, what else was he hiding?” she asked, there was a laugh ringing from her but Danny didn’t need ghost senses to know it was dead on arrival,” I’ve learned so much more here at his funeral than I ever did when we’d been together.”

He laughed a little at that, a stilted awkward laugh that only filled his chest halfway. He almost felt bad telling her about this, but she deserved to know the truth. “Well I overheard some of the kids complaining about Vlad.”

He filled her in on what he’d overheard about the kids, the petty little actions of Vlad. The cotton candy he’d stolen (which was weird he’s rich), the fathers he threatened to replace, it was all so bizarre. Danny was about halfway through when the casket began to shake.

Vlad masters was not an impulsive man. He was calculated, smart and forward thinking. At least he certainly liked to think so.  No impulsive man goes out of his way to plan his nemesis’ death and demise for twenty years. No reckless person would spend his time building an empire carefully crafting his abilities and connections for taking down his enemy.  Vlad however to his greatest distaste was in fact still half human and not infallible. While he was meticulous and in his personal opinion exceedingly intelligent he had no way to properly plan for wrenches in his schemes.

The fenton boy, Daniel was his biggest hurdle but it was only a matter of time before he found the right way to tackle the issue. He was just a particularly big roadblock. If only his emotional attachment to his dunderheaded father wasn’t so strong. These issues were all small potatoes compared to the one he was in now. The details can be spared and smoothed over all that was truly important was that he was at his own funeral.

He’d always wondered what people's reaction to his death would be. Contact with his extended family had been… loose, for the lack of a better term since his ‘accident’.  Deep down however he knew that when or if his time came, truly came, that they’d have a reaction. Probably sadness, he had been close to a few of them before his accident, hell he’d been close to them before his company had taken off. At the end of the day he simply had better things to do. Plans to make, revenge to ruminate on. It wasn’t his fault that they’d fallen to the wayside. They simply weren’t as important as Maddie.

He’d toyed with the idea that maybe his dear Maddie would sob over him, that she’d denounce Jack when she saw that he was no longer an option. How deeply poetic it’d be for that to happen. He never liked the idea of her only realizing their potential then but he couldn’t ignore the artful symmetry of it all. Some of the books that Maddie used to read in college had those even beginning and ends, those swooping through lines that tied it all nicely in a pretty bow. His first death had ripped her away from him. It’d gifted her to Jack on a silver platter, and his second oh how glorious it’d be if it drew her to him. Making her denounce her imbecile of a husband. Leaving the stocky man discarded.  Beauty was in the eye of the beholder and even with its harsh edges his death bringing her close to him was something to behold. If only that was what he was watching happen.

Unfortunately for Vlad Masters Owner, Ceo, and founder of Vladco. Life was not an art piece nor a well orchestrated game of football. No instead he got to lay still (half) alive in his exceedingly expensive casket and listen to the dolt sob.

It started like all of the worst things while heading to the Fenton's for another plan to be set in motion. The restraining order was still being held up in the courts so there was technically nothing legally stopping him from seeing them, or especially her. Besides he was a billionaire, those things were more fine machines than anything for him. Once it was enacted all he’d have to do was pay a fine.

Unfortunately it was during the drive that issues started. Again finer details notwithstanding for he’d run them all in his head a thousand times now while laying in this blastedly comfortable casket. While on the drive it became clear to him he was being followed.  No matter , he’d smugley told himself. He’d been followed by techbro fans before they were easy to deter. Easy to remove from his time and life. However in a deeply detestable turn of events the car following him did not belong to a fan.

He knew from the offset of seeing the make and model that it wasn't his average follower, those types usually had older beaters or worse highly expensive care that they had no business owning. No, instead this car was perfectly down the middle of class and price. How he detested those cars, they had no class. It was effectively similar to the many unmarked police cars that he used to have follow him during his brief stint as mayor. 

Regardless the car was tailing his limo, it was simple at first to attempt to outmaneuver them. Eventually his limo was pinned.

Blah blah blah mindless details later some pointless shooting at him with guns and he’d jacked their car. In the end it was simply easier to fake a fatal car crash. then there were all of those witnesses that had to see his death. Walking it back was impossible all circumstances considered. At least when they attacked him they only knocked his driver out, the legal case of that would have been a logistical nightmare and he still had some hopes of getting access to his funds later. 

It was almost funny in a karmic way. Almost as poetic as he had wanted pretending to be dead to be. Only problem was it was poetic in exactly the opposite way. The person that he hated most there sobbing the loudest. It’d be so much easier if it was Madeline sobbing. If she was sobbing, a faked death could be almost satisfying. If she melted down it could almost be worth it. Instead it was Jack Fucking Fenton. 

Numerous things were to be expected from his funeral, Daniel's arrival, yes, Maddie’s, undoubtedly. Even Jazz’s and Jack’s all expected arrivals. Some of them were more annoying than others but they were the requisite arrivals. Even his gaggle of ex flings was to be expected (they had to try and get their hands on the estate and money somehow. Well jokes on them he’d left it all to Maddie). No, what he hadn’t been prepared for was Jack’s incessant wailing and sobbing. 

The man was besides himself absolutely losing his mind right next to his goddamn open casket. It was getting hard to keep a straight face when he wanted nothing more than to leap from the plush silk sheets and throttle the man. His hands might not quite reach around the other mans thick neck but he could give it a good try he was sure. To put it simply and without intense amounts of rage he had mentally calculated for a lot of variables, not one of them being Jack of all people struggling to breath, choked out sobs instead of breaths coming from him as he hovered nearby. Not a single variable included being cried on by the most loathsome man in all of Amity Park. Every tear that fell on Vlad’s extremely expensive make up was another tally against the man’s. Had he no clue how hard it was to not flinch every time a drop of water splattered on his face? It was much harder than it looked he’d have him know.

Didn’t the idiot realize that he hated him? That he’d never cared for him? At least not since his death. 

Worse was when Maddie and the Fenton children staggered in, he could smell the alcohol on them from a mile away. It was tasteless! The smell alone nearly made him leap from his casket and throttle them where they stood (Maddie with exception of course). Have they no respect for the dearly departed? Have they no care for social decorum? Those Fenton spawn would never survive in high class society. Not like himself and Maddie. Oh how he wished he’d never gone for those pale imitations. They hardly kept up with all that he needed.

All he had to do now was ignore everyone and get through the funeral and he could be Plasmius full time. Pursue Maddie 24/7 with no worries of the law (though with some worries of Phantom). If only those blasted Fenton's would stop spreading rumours about him! And he knew it was them! Who else would say such outrageous things?

Okay certainly if one wanted to be technical Danielle was his daughter, but he hadn’t raised her. She was not his blood, she was not his in the most important ways.

Then there was that rumour about the-

“He-hey Vlad.”

Oh, oh no.

“I uh, I’m gonna miss you.” 

No no no no no! He couldn’t do this! He wouldn’t do this! He would not stand for this! He did not go out of his way to fake his death for this. 

Jack blew his big blubbering nose into a handkerchief so hard it honked. Honked! He was going to throttle this man at his earliest convenience. Getting cried on he could deal with, revolting as it was. What he couldn’t and wouldn’t deal with getting yammered at. That was not in the details. He did  not  plan for this.

“I- uhm- I know we weren’t really close these last few years.”

That was putting it lightly.

“Or really at all since college,” there was a wet laugh from Jack.

If that oaf ended up coughing slobber on him- Maybe if he tried hard enough he could die for real, that’d be nice. He’d never really craved death before, not like in this moment. It’d be so much easier if he just didn’t have to hear this.

“I-I know you didn’t really like me in the end.” 

Wait what? Had he finally gotten a clue? That was a first. Maybe his overt plotting had finally gotten through to the oaf. If Jack attacked him now that’d almost make this all worth it. He might even consider revealing he’s Plasmius if he did.

“I know I messed up, I-I must have hurt you, I don’t really know how, but- but uh, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Yes ye- He was what?

There was another laugh sob from his  ex  friend,” It’s probably too late since you’re uh- dead, but whatever it is I did to hurt you, I'm sorry. I hope,” he trailed off into a high pitched keening whine. 

Stop stop stop! This is not what he wanted!

“I hope you rest well Vlad.”

Footsteps receded away from him at that. 

Well what the fuck was he supposed to do with that? What in the world was he supposed to do with that knowledge? Internalize it? Grow and change as a person? He was (half) dead! He was well past the point of growth! He was beyond growth.

For all Jack knew he wasn’t coming back! For him and basically all of them he wasn’t coming back! The only person that would know was Daniel and maybe his sister if he told her. Maybe his brat friends if he messaged them. 

What did Jack get out of telling him all of that?

Certainly not money, the will had left everything to sweet Maddie, not him. Some sort of moral upper hand? A sense of feeling like he got one over Vlad?

No the dolt wasn’t that complex, his intelligence lay somewhere between absentminded and incompetant on a good day, there was no moral forethought. Yet why did the words settle so deeply in a corner of himself? Carving out a crevice in him that ached and burned?

“Did you hear about why Vlad couldn’t buy the green bay packers?”

Why? Why did it dig in his flesh? why when he’d thought he’d burned all of that away.

I'm Sorry.

“No, why?”

Life was easier when he was fully alive. College life was simpler. At least then he could fool himself that Maddie thought of him equally as she did Jack.

“Well I heard that he was stalking the team!”

What?

Why would he stalk them? He’d never stalked someone once in his entire life! (death maybe but he’d never admit that) he could buy all the tickets to their games he had no reason to stalk them!

There was no practicality in stalking them. Just like Jack had no reason to apologize to him! The idiot didn’t even know what he’d done to hurt him. He hadn’t ripped the apology from Jack. He wasn't on his knees begging from him. Hell he didn’t even know that he’d killed Vlad. Jack Fenton was as oblivious to the fact that he’d died back in college as he was to the fact that his own son was dead and playing hero as Phantom.

The density of the man was rivaled by no other.

But then why did he apologize?

“Did you hear?”

He got nothing out of it.

Why did it ache?

Burn? He wanted for years nothing more than to make the man sob and beg for forgiveness.

Why did having it fulfill nothing?

“About him and the Box Ghost?”

Would it burn just as painfully if he finally got sweet Madeline’s confession? Would it ring just as hollow?

“I thought it was the lunch lady ghost?”

No. There was something about Jack that made it wrong. Something about that blathering moron that lashed the words to him like a blade.

“I think it was both.”

And what the hell were they all blathering on about? What was all of this nonsense about Box Ghosts and smuggling and stalking? What were any of their empty little words? 

Did any of that really matter? Their blathering human rumours and petty squabbles when he, the very guest of honour in all ways but one was laying here before their very eyes on the precipice of something? He was teetering at some edge, he didn’t know what it was but he could just make out the shape of the hole he was almost toppling in, he just had to know what it was. He just-

“Well I heard-”

They heard- they heard! What did it matter what they’d all heard! Nothing that they heard could matter in the slightest not when he was dealing with this! Not when he was reeling with whatever this was! The weight and size of it completely overtaking him and yet none of them aware, he was suffocating being overtaken by the edge of knowledge some realization he’d yet to make and hee still couldn’t read it. All because they wouldn’t stop blathering on and on about what? Lies?

Stupid foolish tales spun by his greatest enemy!

By a child.

If it were not for the show and pageantry of it all, if it were not for the display that he’d set about around him he’d be yanking his hair by the roots, tearing it slowly strand by strand from his scalp. And if there was one thing that Vlad Masters was, it was a showman! He was dramatic and he was going to be so unabashedly it was not his fault that there was no one that yearned for his life to roll onwards like Jack. None of it could be held against him. He was a romantic! Everything he did was for  her.

Had it truly all been for nothing?

All these years.

Had she never really cared?

“Dirty money, attached to drugs. I wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pool.”

All this time.

Did he really-

“Never even mentioned a daughter!

All his schemes!

Jack's tears were so warm when they cut the thick funeral makeup.

“So many secrets for him to keep.”

Dozens of attempts on his life!

Did he really  care? The water on his face was still warm.

“Wasn’t the cause of his crash a run from the law?”

“Would you all just shut up already!”

Silence blanketed the church as Vlad’s voice finished ringing out the wooden box still perched on its little stage. The casket was still shaking and the flowers were falling from the box as the hush grew sharper. Energy crackled from the casket shooting out and blowing the bulb above. Glass fell from the light falling gently on the flower petals. 

None one spoke, Danny’s father had a hand over his mouth, new large tears welling up. He looked green and pale, unlike most of the stunned guests he looked like he was about to be sick.

Danny shot a glance at Jazz, she nodded and jerked her head to the side. He ducked out. Things were about to get hairy.

There was no response from Vlad for a second as it seemed the outburst was done. Even the children who’d been shrieking with laughter and joy from their play for most of the funeral were silent. The falling glass and shaking box were deafening in the silence. Danny ducked behind a pillar and into the doorway that led to the restrooms. There was no one there. The closest person was his mom but she was standing silent and stunned not an eye tilted away from the casket. He couldn’t blame her.

It wasn’t everyday your incel stalker had a breakdown after he’d legally died.

He transformed. On the most part there weren’t many people near the casket. It was just a few lingering Exes, most people were near the refreshment table. His first line of action should be to grab the people near the stage and get them to safety. Then?

Well the rest was adlib. 

At least he had stored the Fenton thermos in his suit jacket (just in case). If only Sam or Tucker were there. Things were so much easier with their help.

Just as he was about to jump into the situation, the group of exes all swarmed Vlad. Shit he’d have to replan everything. He wouldn’t be able to get in an ecto-blast with out the fret of hitting one of them. He could always try Ice or a little storm cloud?

Just as a new plan was starting to formulate one of them (Maria?) slapped Vlad hard across the face.

Smack.

The noise echoed loudly across the church.

He grimaced.

Oh.

He did not want to get in the middle of whatever that was. He really didn’t want to get in the middle of it at all. Backing back into the bathroom he turned back to normal. Didn’t matter what the situation was, he was not going to get in the middle of a dozen or so angry exes and Vlad. It was his grave (even if Danny had helped him dig it a little) like hell Danny was getting buried with him.

“Vlad Masters!” one of the exes screamed,” you slimy pathetic excuse of a man.”

Yeah Danny was not getting in that, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to watch.

“Ow!” Vlad cried out, his eyes were glowing red, but aside from that he still looked very much the same. 

Weird, Danny didn’t expect him to stay in human form. He guessed it made sense if he changed into Plasmius the gig would be up. There’d be a lot of questions too. Knowing Vlad’s tendency to monologue he might even explain the concept of Halfa’s.

“M-Maria!” the older man stammered out,” darling hello-”

The woman smacked him again,” I’m Maggie,” she spat out.

Danny winced, yikes. Makeup covered Vlad's gaunt face but Danny could imagine the smarting red forming on his cheeks.

“Y-yes of course, how could I mistake your beauty, how foolish of me to compare the two of-”

The clearing of a throat interrupted as Maria herself tapped her foot.

“Maria!” Vlad exclaimed this time correct, even if taken by surprise.

“Yes,” the woman agreed,” but don’t mind me, what were you saying? Something about comparison?”

The billionaire awkwardly laughed as he seemed to take in the fact that he was surrounded by all of his exes. Phantom wasn’t even needed. Villain defeated right then and there by the rage and power of his many exes. Again Danny found himself desperate to find out whatever the older man had done to make everyone hate him so just to do the express opposite.

When he actually fully died he hoped his funeral wasn’t this… whatever plan he actually ended up with he just didn’t want this.

“So,” Jazz said as she settled next to him leaning on the pillar with him,” any idea what got him up?”

“Nah,” Danny shrugged looking over to his sister. She looked more sober now, less unstable on her feet.” He didn’t really decree what his gripe was this time.”

Jazz sighed,” so no winner yet.”

“Unfortunately,” he said,'' He also technically didn’t go ghost mode.”

Jazz groaned resting her head on his shoulder,” I wanted to go home, these heels are killing me!”

He stuck a tongue out at her,” shoulda transed your gender like I did,” he teased quietly.

“Ha! Really funny Danny,” she flatly commented with a roll of her eyes at the tired joke.

“Ah meany,” he pouted.

“You walk in these heels at a funeral,” she complained again,” At least if he went full ghost It’d be socially acceptable to ditch them.”

He bit his tongue remembering a rant that Sam had gone on recently about heels and social pressure. How she’d then thrown one of her platform boots at Tuck when he made a remark. Jazz probably wouldn’t appreciate his lovesick ramblings about them.

“Looks like we'll just have to continue to watch this unfold.” he said instead with a sarcastic twinge.

“Oh what a shame!” Jazz said flatly,” sucks to be us.”

Danny snickered as Vlad continued to try to dig himself out of his hole. How he wished Sam and Tucker were here. Unfortunately for him they were both far too busy. Ah well he’d just have to video it all for them.

How unfortunate for Vlad that he was made to sit through his own will reading, and how fortunate for Danny Fenton that he was the one that got to watch it all go down. In the entire time that he and Vlad had been nemesis he never knew just how much he wanted exactly this to happen. Actually if someone ever suggested this happening younger him probably wouldn’t have appreciated just how funny this was. No fourteen-to-fifteen him was far too invested in things like learning his powers and finding out just how observant the rest of town was. Also looking cool. Adult him however? Freshly 21 and college attending him? Oh he could enjoy the fuck out of this situation.

There was some minor debate among some guests over how ethical it was since Vlad's ‘ghost’ was now here to view the reading. Some point could be made that it might be weird...

“Isn’t it rude?” one family member had suggested.

But...

“It might be in bad taste,” another guest had even pipped up.

No one really liked Vlad anyways

“Oh no!” Morgan said,” I want to know what it says, and who better to see how accurate it all is.”

Oh how glad he was that those few were beaten out. How glad he was that the crowd was seeing blood. That the group was too nosey and invested in the drama to really get caught up in such small things as ethics.  How grateful he was that the exes were in half a mind to Kill Vlad a second time.

Fortunate he was, that his luck was finally turning up. It might even be the universe trying to pay him back for all of the shit he’d been dealing with since he was fourteen. Return investment on the untimely youth death. Honestly if it was it was a pretty bang up start all things considered. He’d have to find out if there was a ghost involved in the control of karma. They might just end up with an edible arrangement on their lair door. Older adults loved that shit so ghosts should too.

“Hm,” the lawyer said when they entered the room with the walking corpse of Vlad masters. The office was small and hardly held everyone, but snugly, far too snugly for comfort they all fit on the other side of the large desk.

No one said anything to the lawyer. Whether the man had been privy to the rest of the funeral or had just arrived Danny didn’t know but he had to admit this entire situation was bizarre even with full context. Not many of them knew ghost rules and the only ones that did were in either stunned or gleeful silence. There was no objection to the fact that Vlad had dragged his body with him, not a voice descenting on the fact that his form hadn’t shifted. Not a single attendee seemed perturbed by the fact that Vlad was not really a ghost.

Even the paid bounty hunters didn’t know how to discern ghosts from humans judging by their stunned expressions. Though he’d love to watch one of them attack Vlad in the middle of a church. Stabbing a man in the house of god might just be a big sin, though Danny wasn’t sure.

“Well this is unprecedented,” the lawyer commented,” never in my time have I ever seen a dead man rise for the reading of his own will.”

Vlad grumbled but no one could make out the words as the two exes on either side of him glared. 

Oh how fortunate Danny was indeed, never before had he ever been so glad for his untimely death. If it all led to watching Vlad squirm like this still trying to keep his alter ego a secret? Pain and strife, the many attacks and attempts on his life were worth it.

“Well if there is no protest,” the lawyer said. For a moment Vlad looked very much like he wanted to protest, but the glares of the exes kept him silent and made him snap his jaw shut. Danny knew what went into keeping a corpse looking fresh. Shame the mortician seemed to have skipped wiring the jaw shut. Then, Vlad didn’t seem to need physical wires to keep him silent and well behaved, his Exes were all doing that job very well.

“In that case,” the lawyer sounded queasy, if Danny wasn’t so invested with the drama unfolding he might have turned to verify. “Then I believe we will begin.”

The man started out by reading the long legal preamble, the paragraphs upon paragraphs of titles and information about Vlad that was included. Danny understood that him being the owner of VladCo was technically important for the will but did he need to include all of his ten titles at the company in the will? It just felt excessive. ‘Ceo, entrepreneur, founder, head of decisions, etc.’ did anyone care? Leaving out the most important title of ‘asshole’ was the biggest mistake of his will.

“Yes I think we get it,” Monroe said, her accent clipping the words in stiff professionalism. Bless her for cutting the pain short. “I do have,” the woman glanced at the cousin who was still holding her hand,” A more important social engagement to attend to with Carmila.”

The lawyer stammered,” yes of course ma’am my apologies.”

“It reads:

‘First, I hereby denounce all previous wills made by myself, Vlad Masters, no matter nature or kind.

Second I Vlad Masters hereby appoint,” the lawyer paused making a face before he continued,” Madeline Fenton love of my life as the executor of my estate, networth, and-” the lawyer paused,” the ownership of my beloved cat ‘Maddie the cat, the third-”

“Huh, I guess you listened to my suggestion after all and got a cat.” Danny muttered as at the same moment his mother reached her breaking point

“You what?” Maddie was standing out of her chair, indignation flaring in her eyes,” Vlad! I don’t want any of this.”

“But but,” Danny tuned the man out as he made the normal declarations of love. Trite at this point his mind was already trying to entertain itself. Fast forwarding this would be nice, if only his core was time based. But no he got Ice, and Weather, and other weird disconnected powers. He was electrocuted to death! Cruel that he didn’t get cool electrocution powers.

They were still arguing when he tuned back in. Loath wasn’t a powerful enough describer for this love diatribe that Vlad spewed every three to five business days. His mom yelled something back, a few of the ex wives even chiming in agreement. Well at least they didn’t hate mom that was a plus.

He shot Jazz a look as he repositioned his phone camera to get a better shot.

‘This again?’ he tried to communicated with his expressions. Tuck usually laughed when he tried and Sam told him he looked to constipated.

She shrugged and nodded as if to say  ‘this again.’

“I am happily married! I told you I won't leave Jack for you!”

Tuning out the conversation didn’t seem to leave out many details. Everything was falling exactly into the same patterns as always.

“Maddie please-” the billionaire tried to beg.

This made the woman snap,” no don’t Maddie please me! You have not respected my decision to marry Jack since it happened, well guess what Vlad it’s too late for you! You were never even an option!” she turned to Jack and put a hand on his shoulder. her voice much softer when she spoke,” come on honey we’re leaving. Kids?” She turned to the two Fenton children. The both of them stood with no protest. Like hell they were going to end up on the wrong side of their mother right now. Mission orientated as she was they had no doubt she could commit Vlad's murder and get away with it. legally she might even considering the fact that he was technically a 'ghost' right now.

Just as she was about to step out the door she turned,” oh and ladies, don’t worry about a legal battle I’ll work with our family lawyer to transfer everything to all of you.”

There were some small thanks from the stunned Exes as the office door latched shut behind them.

 The air in the car was-

Well the word tense didn’t really sum up the air but it was the best approximation that Danny had. It could have gone worse, he supposed he could have genuinely ended up fighting Vlad again. Chances where that if he fought Vlad while he was Plasmius that the formerly rich business mogul would then use the moment to out Danny as Phantom. Not just his family but all of the church. If he had to rate the evening it was definitely not as bad as he expected. About a six or seven, depending on his critical he was being.

“Uh so who won the bet?” he whispered to Jazz. he wasn’t worried about his parents, Maddie was soothingly rubbing circles on Jack’s back as the man drove. That and they were sat in the back, sometimes the front seats struggled to hear them at a normal level forget a whisper.

Jazz furrowed her brows,” I guess neither of us really won, he didn’t even go ghost.”

Nodding, he thought back to the man’s loud entrance,” He also didn’t say what rumour got him up.”

“So do we both lose?”

“I guess?” he looked over to his parents,” so we both tell them?”

Jazz sighed leaning back in her seat, hair dramatically laying behind her,” yeah I guess.”

“You don’t hav-”

Jazz cut him off with a snort,” no it’s fine, my things not really as big all things considered.”

Fair, she had a point with that. Their parents already knew that she was interested in men and women but still revealing partners to them was always weird and nerve wracking. The first time he’d introduced Sam and Tuck as partners and not friends he’d expected a lot more questions. Turns out if you hunt ghosts for a living nothing is really weird after that. They just bought him new sex ed books. Sentiment appreciated but still weird considering he could google that sort of thing now.

“So Danny,” his mom said, her fingers tightened on her phone. They were lucky she got old brick Nokias instead of those new Smart phones. She’d break them in a week. Jack wasn’t paying them much attention as he drove, he seemed to still be shell shocked. Hopefully he didn't crash, okay so maybe he didn't always like car rides. Sometimes the looming threat of a car crash really messed with his obsession.

“Yeah mom?” he asked.

“I was talking to some of the ladies.”

“Uh huh?” wherever she was going with this he didn’t like the tone.

“And imagine my surprise when one of them tells me Vlad has a daughter.”

“Weird right,” he said. Please stop, please stop! He begged, wherever this was going it was nowhere good. It would have been better if he’d just died in that accident. Screw whatever he thought back when he thought his luck was turning up. He was still the most unlucky bastard in all of amity park.

She hummed in agreement,” and imagine my surprise when they said she was your cousin.”

Danny didn’t have a response to that, Jazz was stifling a laugh next to him.

“And then,” she said,” she showed me a picture of her.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, Danny," there was a pause as she seemed to collect her words," why does she look like you pre transition?”

“Does she?” sweating wasn’t really something he did so much anymore, not since his core started cooling his mortal flesh, it was nice sometimes. But it didn’t stop nervous sweating. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Hadn’t- Danny,” his mother sighed,” sweetie if you want to start presenting as a girl again you can. We won’t judge you.”

Wait what, “ what?!” 

Shrieking loud bursts of laughter came out of Jazz. 

“Jazz!”

That set him off, it was just so ridiculous.

“Honey I’m serious,” his mom sounded so upset her tone lost. She really was trying.

He couldn’t help it, it wasn’t his fault. It was just so out of the realm of what was happening. Man his parents really didn’t have any of the facts.

“Danny?” his father asked the tenseness in his shoulders from the funeral leaving way to confusion.

Him and Jazz made eye contact and the laughing got so much worse. If being part dead didn’t make him need to breathe so much less he’d be choking. He’d die, it was just- they still didn’t know and somehow that was all the funnier. God he was calling Tuck and Sam right after he explained everything they were going to get such a kick out of this. Especially Tucker.

“That’s not-” wheezes high and stringy, cutting him off, he was struggling even with his ghost lungs.

“Danny my boy,” Jack asked quietly,” what’s funny?”

“We’re trying to support you Danny!” his mother exclaimed.

Finally he quelled the laughter enough to speak,” okay okay,” he whipped a tear from his eye. “I’ll explain it all it just probably isn’t something dad needs to be driving for.”

“Danny what do-”

“Just trust me okay?” he grinned at his mom in what he hoped was reassurance. 

She sighed and looked at her husband, Jack furrowed his brows and the pair silently communicated before the man hit his turning signal.

 The small side road was perfectly out of the way enough that no one would be able to peer in. It was some half abandoned picnic area but none of them reached for their seatbelts to leave the car. It was just the closest spot they could stop.

“Okay,” he started giving Jazz a look, she nodded comfortingly,” Remember how the portal didn’t work at first?”

It took them a moment but they nodded in remembrance. 

“Right well I died.” it was best to just rip the Band-Aid off.

“What?”

“Danny- honey you’re not dead.”

He thought so at least, he sighed pinching his nose,” I need you guys to wait for questions till the end okay?”

“But honey you’re not dead!” she didn’t sound so sure as she looked him over.

“What your mother said my boy! You’re sitting right there!”

Danny groaned,” guys please?” there was a pause as they looked at each other and finally finally agreed to wait till the end. “Sam said I should check it out, see if I could fix it. I put on my suit, and,” he made a buzzing noise with his tongue,” the button shocked me to death when I hit it. It was dark so I didn't see,” he looked to the side. The trees outside were swaying peacefully in the wind. Jazz put a hand on his shoulder, he took a steading breath and clenched the hand with the thin invisible scars. “It was an accident but,” he turned back to them resolution in his eyes,” I died that day, When I woke up, well, brace yourselves okay,” he let the tugging cold of hic core shift and change his appearance.

There was silence. He’d expected something but, no, even Jazz wasn’t saying anything.

He cracked an eye open, his parents were staring at him dumbfounded. Yeah that was about par for the course.

“Well this happened and now, I’m half Ghost,” he admitted,” everyone in the ghost zone knows that’s why there were always so many attacks at the school.”

“Half?” his mom asked despite herself.

Danny nodded,” yeah I still age, and need to eat and breath... mostly on that last one. It’s kind of cool I can go invisible,” he demonstrated before changing back,” and phase through things and float,” he demonstrated both in succession allowing the belt to glide through him as he hovered up an inch. “Shoot Ecto-blasts… probably best if I don’t do that one in the car though,” he laughed.

“Okay,” his mom said. 

“Okay?” he asked.

His father nodded,” sure Son, we love you. It’s weird but, well we hunt ghosts for a living.”

He laughed,” yeah fair enough.”

"I-" his mom looked over at Jack," We're proud of you sweetie, that's a lot to undertake at so young."

he chuckled," it wasn't so bad, I had a lot of help," he grinned at Jazz," Between her Sam and Tuck I don't know if I would have lasted half the battles I did."

"You knew Jazz?" Their father asked his tone soft and slightly hurt.

She smiled softly," yeah, I walked in on him transforming. Thought it was best if I let him tell you guys."

"Part of the apprehension might have been the dissection thing," Danny addmited.

"I- honey-" his mom put a hand over her mouth in shock.

"I'm sorry son," His dad said," it was closed minded of us to assume stuff about ghosts we didn't know."

"Well you weren't always wrong. Just usually."

“So ‘Elle?” his mom prompted before Jack could pepper in questions about what the got right.

He sighed,” yeah her full name is Danielle, technically she’s the only living clone of me Vlad made.”

“Only living Clone?”

“Vlad made?”

Man he had a lot to explain. Years of events just gone unsaid. Some small part of the divide between them was shifting, growing smaller. 

“Is now a good time to tell you guys I have a girlfriend?”

Danny choked on a laugh. Not to long after his parents followed after the tension disrupted, Well at least he had Jazz to help explain. Sam and Tucker too when they weren’t busy. It'd be a mess and weird to finally clear the air between them, but at least he knew they were proud of him.

[lala-ladybug]

Healing Hands: Chapter 1

Hello hello! First fic here, it’s a Maribat AU with a side of Sword Art Online. Or what I remember from having watched the show once about five years ago. We’ve got Marinette and minimal class salt, Young Justice but only the good parts, and primarily Jasonette. Please spread the word (I am a tiny sideblog) and let me know what you think <3

Read here on AO3

Next

Chapter 1: You have no idea how many baddies I’m going to blow up because of you

Friday, at long last. Marinette could not have exhaled a bigger sigh of relief. It was mid-way through the school term, her commissions were ramping up, and Hawkmoth had become frustratingly active. Her duties as class president had only increased as she and her friends neared the end of lycée, not to mention all the studying she was doing for the baccalauréat on top of her regular school work. Commissions were booming now that her popularity as the anonymous designer MDC was soaring worldwide. She wouldn’t give any of it up for the world, but she might enjoy getting more than three or four hours of sleep for once.

There was only part of her life that had gotten easier since that day three years ago when she was entrusted with a pair of spotted earrings and an old god to match. Ladybug started out with one partner, but she now had a whole team to share the responsibilities of keeping their city safe. Ryuko and Viperion became permanent fixtures of the Parisian rooftops, and Bourdonne replaced Queen Bee after the infamous (albeit self-inflicted) unmasking of Chloe Bourgeois. The people of Paris looked to these heroes with pride and trust.

And Marinette Dupain-Cheng, now the Guardian of the Miraculous, looked to her partners with trust as well. She had decided that with her in charge, she could no longer keep secrets from her friends, from her new Order of the Guardians. She discussed it with Chat Noir, and he had smiled and agreed that it was time. And one day, when Ladybug gathered her teammates on a remote rooftop in the dead of night, she said only “I trust you,” before allowing her transformation to fall.

She wasn’t nervous, not really. She knew Kagami and Luka had good hearts, and she had seen firsthand how much Chloe had grown. Those three accepted her civilian self, her true self, without half a thought, and followed their leader in dropping their transformations as well. Chloe got her quips in while Ladybug looked to Chat Noir.

He passed his gaze over the faces of their friends and smirked like he was holding in a laugh. As he said “Claws in,” Marinette could hear the laugh in his voice, an intonation that sounded so very familiar, and oh. Of course.

Adrien Agreste beamed at his friends, both in the mask and out, and said fondly, “I’m so glad it’s you.”

The rest, of course, was history. For the year and a half since then, the five heroes of Paris had kept the city safe from threats magical and mundane alike. Hawkmoth had, of course, gotten craftier and more vicious with his attacks, sometimes choosing to send bursts of weaker akumas over the span of a week, sometimes waiting a month before sending an especially brutal villain their way.

But it was nothing that the Order of the Guardians couldn’t handle. Even though it could get exhausting after a while, which is why the incoming weekend was a welcome reprieve. There was another reason why this particular weekend was so exciting, which was that a new video game, Mindscape, was debuting. It would be released at midnight EST, which was 6:00 in the morning for Paris.

“Today’s the day, girl!” Alya squealed as she flagged Marinette down on their way to the classroom. “We are so lucky that our class won that raffle to get these exclusive passes. I bet I’ll be the first blog to get the scoop on this new tech they’re using!”

Marinette giggled and started to reply, “Super lucky, right? I’m excited too, I heard--”

“You know,” Lila cut her off as she sidled up to Alya. “I’m not saying that I didn’t enter us to get those downloads, but I was a big help with beta testing.”

How she managed to time that comment just as the three girls crossed the threshold of the classroom, and how she managed to know that nearly the whole class would already be there to hear it, Marinette would never understand. She only had to wait a moment before the rest of their friends rushed to the door to thank Lila.

“This opportunity is amazing, we are incredibly grateful!” Max was first in line, ever the technology-enthusiast.

Kim pushed his shorter friend out of the way and vigorously shook Lila’s hand. “You have no idea how many baddies I’m going to blow up because of you.” Lila looked a little overwhelmed as he continued to shake her hand all the while, and she gave him a nervous smile.

He was soon pushed out of the way as Alix muscled her way to the front next. “I definitely owe you for giving me the chance to kick his ass in a brand new way!” She jerked her head to where Kim had landed on the floor, pouting at her.

As the rest of the class who would be joining them in the game’s premiere expressed their thanks, Alya looked on with an affectionate smile. She was so very happy that she now had two kind, selfless best friends. Her smile fell a little as she noticed Marinette stoically edging her way around the crowd and up to her seat, not having said a word to Lila. Alya just wished that her two besties would get along.

Alya put a hand on Lila’s shoulder and smiled her thanks before following Marinette to what was once their shared desk. “You really should thank her, you know,” Alya implored hopefully.

Without turning around to face Alya, Marinette paused and shared an incredulous look with Adrien, who was already seated at his shared desk with Nino. She then shrugged and replied, “Lila never actually said that she got us the passes,” before continuing up the steps to her seat at the back of the class. Alya shook her head and sat down. It was always like this, a cool indifference from Marinette whenever Lila came up. They were both such incredible people, Alya couldn’t understand why they didn’t get along.

As for Marinette, she was semi-content to let Lila be as long as her lies didn’t hurt anybody. Her unrealistic promise to take away all of Marinette’s friends was never fulfilled, and honestly the amount of emotional energy it used to sap from her just wasn’t worth it anymore. Marinette had no idea how Lila was going to get her hands on a copy of the game when Mari was, of course, the one who had won the raffle. She distributed the special access passes herself, and Lila certainly hadn’t gotten one. If this was the way that she wanted to make friends, she would eventually have to face the consequences.

But for now, Lila was basking in her praise. That is, until she glanced at her phone and gave a small gasp of dismay.

“What’s wrong?” Rose asked, concern already etched on her face.

Lila covered her mouth with one hand and started rapidly blinking back tears. “It’s my VIP copy of the game. There was a mixup in the mail and it won’t get here in time for tomorrow morning! I’m so sorry everyone, it looks like you’ll have to do it without me....” She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders trembled with barely restrained sobs.

The class shared a worried look, and Sabrina piped up, “It’s okay Lila, you can borrow my copy.” Lila immediately looked up and surged forward to clasp the hands of her friend.

“Really? But won’t it have the same problem?” Sabrina smiled and shook her head. “Nope, it’s a digital download! I don’t mind, you can always trade it back when your VIP pass arrives later.”

Lila gave her a brilliant smile, any tears long-since dried. “Oh, thank you so much Sabrina! I’ll see what I can do about getting you a VIP pass too once mine gets here.”

At that moment, Chloe walked in, and one look at the scene displayed in front of her had her rolling her eyes at her former best friend. She gracefully swept up the steps to join Marinette at the back of the classroom and whispered to her, “Aren’t they all digital downloads?”

Marinette, who had started unpacking her bag to prepare for class, inclined her head and gave the blonde a meaningful look that indicated yes, they were indeed all digital downloads. Chloe snickered and started preparing her own side of the desk.

After the fiasco of outing herself as Queen Bee, Chloe had lost the minimal support and tolerances she had been allowed before. It gave her time to truly reflect on how she acted and treated other people. She had since been quietly making amends with those she’d wronged, and the person on the top of that list was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. It took time and a lot of effort on Chloe’s part, but she mellowed out and did a lot of growing up. She still spoke her mind, though.

“Huh that’s strange, I got the VIP package too, but mine was a digital pass,” Chloe loudly proclaimed, studying her nails nonchalantly as the rest of the class turned to look up at her.

Lila grit her teeth into a forced smile and replied sweetly, “Well that’s because mine was an original beta testing copy that they had to update for the full game.” She turned her attention to Marinette and a note of false concern crept into her voice. “Oh Marinette, I hope you’ll still have time to come too! I know you’ll be busy this weekend with planning the spring class field trip. It would be such a shame if it didn’t happen because you were too busy playing a video game.”

Marinette suddenly felt very warm under the gazes of the entire class. She stammered out, “Oh-of course we’ll get to go! Don’t worry, I have a meeting with the school board on Monday.” Trust Lila to sniff out the one thing that had slipped below her radar.

Lila’s eyes lit up with an opportunistic gleam. “That’s great! Where will it be?”

“Well, uh, the school board has to review the location, so I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I can tell you that it will be in, um,” her eyes flicked around wildly and landed on the posterboard of different flags from the prior week’s lessons. “America!”

The class burst into excited chatter moments before Madame Bustier arrived and the late bell rang. Marinette released a breath and sagged in her seat. Saved by the bell.

Chloe gave her a sidelong glance and murmured, “America, huh?”

“Shut up,” Marinette shot back.

* * *

Madame Bustier tried to get the class to pay attention, she really did. They struggled through their lessons before lunch, the volume of side conversations between deskmates swelling all the while. The moment the bell for lunch dismissal rang, the students exploded into conversation as they left the classroom.

Marinette waved as Chloe and Adrien walked off to go meet Kagami and Luka at a nearby cafe. She breezed into the patisserie across the street from Francois Dupont and gave her surprised Maman a kiss on the cheek.

“I thought you were going out with your friends for lunch?” Sabine asked, balancing a tray of eclairs on her hip. “I forgot I have to plan our class trip!” Marinette replied cheerfully as she hurried into the kitchen to quickly fix herself a croque-monsieur. She gave her Papa a hug as she finished preparing her meal. He shouted up at her to not make a mess as she retreated into her room to eat at her desk.

She gave a small snort at that. It was nearly impossible for her to make a mess of food when she had over a dozen Kwami there to clean up after her, but he didn’t know that. She greeted said Kwami with a delighted grin and a wave as she set her plate down by her desktop computer.

“Marinette, why are you back so early?” Tikki asked, “is everything okay?” The other Kwami swarmed around her as she woke her computer up and logged in.

The girl waved one hand nonchalantly and opened up a web browser with the other. “Everything’s fine, I just forgot about planning the class trip!” She took a huge bite of the sandwich and started typing furiously. Several Kwami dove after the crumbs that sprayed everywhere.

“Ohhh, I see! Do you have an idea of where to start?” Tikki zoomed around Marinette’s shoulder to hover next to the monitor screen.

Marinette had the same determined gleam in her eye as when she finally found the perfect fabric for a design. She said confidently around a mouth full of ham, “America.”

* * *

By the time the lunch break had finished, Marinette had a preliminary list of cities on the East Coast of the United States. She had researched Gotham first, but it looked far too dangerous and gloomy. Next was New York City, which she determined was too big. Philadelphia was historic, but in a way that would definitely bore her classmates. Boston was too cold despite its excitement. Which left Metropolis as the perfect candidate. It was also protected by the perfect superheroes, Superman and his family, so she was absolutely confident the school board would approve of the city.

Of course, the meeting on Monday would need more specifics than just the city, but she was pleased with her progress so far. Marinette shut down her monitor, grabbed her backpack and plate from lunch, and went downstairs to the kitchen. She quickly scrubbed and dried her plate in the sink before waving to her parents as they bustled around, accommodating the tail end of the mid-day rush.

Marinette walked across the street with a spring in her step and, spotting a tall flash of blue hair, half-jogged up to her group of friends.

“Hey guys, sorry I couldn’t make it to lunch!” She grinned apologetically at Kagami and Luka.

“That’s alright Melody,” Luka gave her a side hug, “Chloe told us you were busy planning your class trip.”

Adrien slung an arm around Kagami’s shoulder and pulled his girlfriend closer to whisper conspiratorially to her, “I hear we’re going to America.” She laughed softly at his antics and at Marinette who stuck her tongue out at him. Kagami then said to Marinette, “That sounds delightful, Marihime. I trust you will still be joining us tomorrow morning?”

Marinette’s eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect of playing the game with her friends all weekend long. “Definitely! I’m going to finish preparing for the school board meeting tonight so that we can play the second it comes out.”

“If you can wake up on time,” Chloe teased.

Marinette crossed her arms defensively and stated with pride, “I already set three alarms, thank you very much!”

Adrien burst out laughing at that. “Leave it to our everyday Ladybug,” he winked. Her face flushed as she pouted. He chuckled again and kissed Kagami on the top of her head. “See you later, mon coeur.”

She and Luka waved to the rest of the group as they left to return to their own schools. The three Francois Dupont students watched them go for a moment before returning inside.

“So, you and Kagami have plans?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah! Our parents gave special permission for a sleepover at my place tonight so we can play the game right when it comes out tomorrow.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he had never quite abandoned. “But I’m not sure how often we’ll be able to be online with you guys after this weekend. You know how busy our schedules are....”

Marinette elbowed him lightly as they walked. “It’s a blessing you both managed to convince your dad and her mom to let you come to the launch at all! We’ll play together when we can, it’s no big deal.”

Adrien smiled gratefully at her and held the door open for both Marinette and Chloe as they entered the classroom. Alya was already there, and once she spotted her best friend (well, one of them), she skidded down the steps with a huge grin and held an invisible microphone up to Marinette.

“Thank you Nadja, and good afternoon Paris! This is Alya Cesaire, and today I am joined by young fashion designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, can you give us an exclusive scoop on the trip you’re planning for your class?”

“Good afternoon Mlle. Cesaire,” Marinette giggled, “Unfortunately, the trip has yet to be approved by the school board so no details just yet. But I can tell you with certainty that we will be visiting the resident city of some popular American superheroes.” She winked as she finished in her best interview voice.

Alya gasped and dropped her pretend microphone as she hugged her best friend. “Really!? Oh my gosh girl, you are the best!”

Marinette laughed and hugged her back as Alya jumped and spun them around. Once they pulled apart, she told the brunette, “As soon as the school board gives me the green light, you’ll be the first to know.”

The late bell rang and the girls practically skipped to their respective seats as Madame Bustier called the class to attention. Well, “attention” in the loosest sense of the word. They struggled once more through the majority of their lessons, but Madame Bustier seemed to sense defeat and she let them chatter excitedly for the last twenty minutes before dismissal.

Kim and Alix were boasting about how they were going to stay up all night, while Max encouraged them to maximize the time they would be able to play the next day by getting a full night’s sleep in before the launch time.

Lila bragged about her role in the creation of the game from its conception to even having suggested the highly anticipated date of release. Adrien pointedly ignored Lila in the row behind his and discussed the music they had recorded and mixed for the game with a very enthusiastic Nino.

Sabrina looked on a little sadly until Mylene, Ivan, Rose, and Juleka invited her to join their Disney movie marathon double-date instead. Mylene was too nervous to play the game so Ivan chose to sit out to support her, and video games weren’t really Rose and Juleka’s style. Sabrina’s face softened as she gratefully accepted their invitation.

Nathaniel turned around in his seat to talk to Marinette about the art rendering and the programs they used while Chloe scrolled aimlessly on her phone.

By the time the bell finally rang, the class was beyond excited to go prepare for the launch the next morning.

Marinette, to her credit, swallowed her enthusiasm and sat down to fully plan out their trip to Metropolis. It was grueling work, researching the safest hotel that was still in a central location. It had to be affordable but not shabby, too, because they had a limited budget. She eventually settled on the reputable Wayne Hotel, apparently part of an enormous corporation called Wayne Enterprises, and then began to build an itinerary with different events from there.

She worked nonstop the rest of the night, with the exception of a brief dinner break, and it was nearly 11:00 at night by the time she finished. Marinette sat up from her desk chair and stretched, then double-checked that her alarms were set before finally heading to bed.

[fan-written]

I couldn't get this bio dad Riddler au by @maribat-writing-and-prompts out of my head, so my brain came up with this! You can find the original post here:

Puzzler! Marinette

Superboy landed silently next to Red Robin, smirking at the slight skip he heard in his heart beat. It had been a year since they started dating and the smaller boy still had the same reaction that originally caught his notice. But that wasn't why he returned to his side as quickly and quietly as possible.

They had split up when Red noticed online activity in a nearby, supposedly empty, corporate building and SB had heard a mugging in progress a few blocks over. The thieves had been easy to take down and Red didn't seem too concerned when he found the cause of the activity. No, Superboy wasn't in a rush until he heard Red Robin sigh the name Puzzler.

For the last two years he'd listened to Tim rant and rage about the Riddler's tiny assistant. He couldn't seem to get her out of his head since the moment she verbally tore apart his costume as Robin. Sometimes Kon wondered if Tim was just having Bi panic with how often he talked about her.

The problem was, as much as he'd learned from Tim about her, they'd never met.

She was only in Gotham during the summers and never seemed to be working the same cases he did. Puzzler wasn't a vigilante so she didn't follow crime the same way, but he had hoped they would have crossed paths by now. So when Red Robin identified her he booked it over.

Red Robin barely glanced up at his boyfriend before returning to glower at the small girl sitting in the giant office chair. And she was small. Tim said she was their age, a few months younger at most, but looking down at the top of her head he wondered how accurate that was.

He also might be starting to understand why Tim was such a Bi disaster whenever she came up. Puzzler was cute. The pastel pink domino mask matched the overall skirt she wore and Kon tried very hard not to stare at the pale green harnesses on her thighs than matched her sleeveless shirt. He was a little confused why she had a yo-yo attached to one and a bag with cookies on the other, but who knows. Maybe PI assistants got bored and hungry while on the job. To top it off she had plum purple fingerless gloves, elbow and knee pads, combat boots, and question mark buttons. For an assistant she looked every bit ready to kick ass and Kon was beginning to think he'd let her.

"Puzzler," Red Robin said again, rubbing his forehead, exhaustion bleeding into the tone. "Please tell me why you broke into a building just to use a computer. I know you have access to a better one at your father's office."

She grinned at the screen but didn't look up or stop her typing as she answered him. "Because," Kon absently noticed she had the cutest accent,  "Piège Mortel, I needed direct access to this terminal." 

Red groaned under his breath about how it was one of those days. "And what do you need from this terminal?"

Her smile grew and Superboy felt a vague sense of deja vu. "What force and strength cannot get through, I with a gentle touch can do. And many in the street would stand, were I not a friend at hand. What am I?" Ah, that would explain it. That was the look Riddler always had before doling out his riddles.

"A key," Red Robin said after a few minutes of silence. Puzzler nodded but continued tapping away at the keyboard. 

"And what exactly is this key for?"

"Your heart!" 

Superboy couldn't help but snort as he watched adrenaline rush through Tim's body, making his heart beat faster and his cheeks flush. It had the added bonus of making Puzzler's gaze jerk from screen to himself.

Everything froze, from Red Robin blushing, Superboy smirking, and Puzzler looking between the two heroes in front of her. Then Puzzler let out the quietest whine.

"Piège Mortel! You could have warned me your boyfriend was here." She blushed darker than her mask and Kon's lips spread wider. Puzzler whimpered and quickly turned back to the computer to avoid looking at them.

Superboy chuckled and leaned closer to Red Robin as if to whisper in his ear. "I knew she had to be cute with how often you talked about her, but I didn't think she'd be this adorable."

Red Robin stuttered, trying to get out a denial, until he looked back at Puzzler. It was as if her brain had flatlined at the compliment and she couldn't reboot fast enough. It was also the first time he'd seen it happen to her. Usually she was the one being flirty to throw him off, but oh how the tables had turned. Red knew he flustered her occasionally, but never enough to stall her. 

He wondered if it was because of Kon, even if his gut twisted with the idea. His boyfriend was attractive so he wouldn't be too surprised. But she'd reacted to him before. Maybe it was the two of them? Together? That would be very interesting.

Superboy watched as Red Robin schemed and Puzzler finally restarted. She must have forgotten that he had super hearing because she started mumbling under her breath and it was frankly adorable.

"Stop looking. Stop looking. Come on, stop looking at me. Of course they both have to be here. I mean avoiding Superboy could only last so long. Oh Kwami, they are way too hot to be in the same building, let alone dating each other." She whined almost inaudibly again. "Two minutes. I just have to last two minutes and then I can go."

Superboy chuckled and she squeaked. "Oh crap. Superboy, clone of Superman with matching abilities including super hearing. Kwami, how could I forget! Because he's hot and so is Robin and he can still hear me and I need to shut up now." His chuckle grew into a short laugh until he could control it enough to whisper everything she said into Red Robin's ear. Kon felt his own rush of adrenaline as he watched Tim's grin become slightly feral. It was one he wore when he had a plan that usually had a dose of revenge added.

Tim took a step forward and Puzzler tensed but tried to ignore them. This was long overdue if everything Tim told him was true. Kon happily followed a half step behind, content to watch his boyfriend play with the little mouse of a PI. Tim tilted his head to one side of the chair as he went to the other and leaned closer to Puzzler.

"You wouldn't be trying to steal this key would you?" Red Robin said lowly, one hand against the back of the chair, the other on the desk, blocking her in on that side. "If you were, Superboy and I would have to take you in, and we wouldn't want that, would we."

She shuddered and Superboy grinned at the way her heartbeat matched her stutter as she tried to answer. "N-n-no. No stealing. Just, just making a copy." She leaned further away from Red Robin, but bumped against his leg on the other side.

"A copy. Really." He said as he leaned over too. He glanced up at Red Robin to see him smirking at the two of them and Kon felt the need to wipe it off his face. "The thing is, I'm the only one with a key to Red's heart and I haven't heard you ask for it yet." Red's smirk shifted into a frown, but SB continued to watch the small girl between them. "And I doubt you could do that when you've been avoiding me."

"W-w-what! Avoi-avoiding you? Who, who said th-"

"Or is that not the key you're looking for."

She was so flustered and Kon desperately wanted to know what she looked like under the mask. Another glance at Tim told him he felt the same.

A sudden chime from the computer startled them out of the bubble they'd created. Puzzler leaned forward and tapped at the keys quickly. A few seconds later she shut it down and pushed the chair back. The two boys moved with it, but didn't step out of her way.

"Well! That's it. No stealing happening here." She grinned wildly at them and stood up to try and leave. "Now if you boys would excuse me, I'm sure my dad is waiting up on me."

Even standing she was tiny and SB could easily look over her head at Red. Red Robin barely shook his head and Superboy knew he wasn't done playing. So instead of stepping out of the way, he crossed his arms and leaned back.

"I don't know Red. Should we excuse her?" Puzzler gaped at him and then at Red Robin when he spoke.

"Probably not SB. We still don't know what that key is for. It is the middle of the night and we both know it's the best time to steal things." Red leaned in even more to force her closer to Superboy.

"If you keep this up you two will be the ones stealing..." She murmured, moaning in frustration when Superboy chuckled. She turned around and pointed a finger at his chest. "You, you are so lucky you're practically indestructible. I still have half a mind to shove one of those stupidly attractive shoulder spikes in your ear because you keep laughing and it's distracting." This time Red Robin choked on a laugh and she whirled around to him.

"And you! You keep showing up with the hair and now the belts. Seriously, you two need to stop with the belts. I can't think when you're around. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go."

Instead of trying to move either of them she simply jumped over the back of the chair and ran towards the open window at full speed. With his enhanced vision Kon could tell her face was cherry red and he could hear her heart race. He took a step to follow but stopped at the hand on his arm. Tim was blushing, but had a shit eating grin. He just got the best leverage against Puzzler, and he didn't even have to search for it.

The two boys watched as she grabbed her yo-yo and tossed it out the window. They both ran to it as they watched her fall out, only to see her swing away.

Kon listened to the familiar zip of wire for a moment more before turning to his boyfriend.

"So, have we ever talked about a third?" Tim shook his head. "We should talk about a third."

Tim nodded this time. "Agreed."

[let-it-raines]

Walking the Baseline (Year: 2015)

Summary: This should be the happiest he’s been in years, but it’s not. He and Emma already had wildly different schedules, but now that she’s no longer on tour, it feels like they barely see each other. When they do, it’s for a day here, a week there, two if they’re lucky. That’s no way to live when his girlfriend is carrying their baby and freaking out about it more than he is.

If only he could have a bloody break from tennis to focus on his personal life for once.  

He’s got to be careful what he asks for.

Rating: Teen +

a/n: Hello again! I know these have been slow going, but I’m here with another installment! This may or may not be the last one. I haven’t decided on that yet, so we’ll see what happens there as I know there are many more things that could be told in this universe but don’t know how much motivation I have to write them 😘

ao3: 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 (CURRENT) | 2016 (original one-shot) |

Tumblr: 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 (CURRENT) | 2016 (original one-shot) |

-/-

November 2014.

Shit.

“This is bad,” Rob says from across the room, as if that isn’t the most obvious bit of information on the planet right now. “What are you going to do, mate?”

He wants to do a myriad of things, but he can’t right now.

“Play my match and then call Emma and make sure she’s okay.” Killian shrugs and bends down at the knees to squat against the wall. He hits the timer on his phone for a minute, and he tries to focus on that instead of the news Ariel just texted him.

He’s not doing great at that. All these years of being able to block life out before a match have suddenly deteriorated.

“Do you want to call her now?” Robin prods.

“She won’t answer if I call now. Watch.” Killian exits out of the timer and hits Emma’s number on his phone. It rings and rings and rings, and she never answers. He stands from his squat and tries again. Still, no answer. “Emma, darling,” he speaks into the phone, “I’m about to play, so I can’t talk to you anytime soon. I love you. Everything is alright, yeah? We knew this was going to happen at some point, but I’m sorry it happened this way. I’ll call you as soon as I can. You and the babe stay safe, alright?”

“Do you think that’s going to do any good?”

“No,” Killian answers honestly, “it’s not. She’s going to be freaking the hell out, and nothing is going to calm her down, certainly not me.”

He thumbs through his phone once more, looking through his texts and clicking on the links Ariel sent him. It’s pictures of Emma in her neighborhood, which is supposed to be private. That is a lie, though, because someone managed to take pictures of Emma walking to get her mail, her clothes tight enough that the roundness of her stomach is obvious, especially compared to how she usually looks.

It’s not good. Not good at all.

After the US Open, Emma stopped playing, telling the WTA she was out for the rest of the season on injury. A few people know because of how often Emma has to get drug tested, but it’s all been a well-kept secret.

That is no longer true.

Bloody hell.

“Mr. Jones,” the tournament director says when he pokes his head in the warm-up room, “it’s time to go.”

“Aye, I’ll be right there.” He stands from his squat and stretches out his legs, jumping up and down a few times before grabbing his racket bag from the floor. “Rob, get Ariel to try calling Emma while I’m playing. She’s more likely to talk to her than any of us.”

“I’ll try.” Rob nods and claps his hand over Killian’s back. “Good luck in your match. I know it’s a rubber, but don’t be a loser.”

Killian blows air out of his nose with his laugh. “I’ll try not to be a loser. My fucking motto for life.”

-/-

Killian isn’t a loser that day, but he is out of the tournament. He hates the season-ending final, how it’s a round robin event. He lost the same amount of matches as the man who got to advance to the semi-finals but because he lost three more games, he’s packing his bags to go home.

(Though, he didn’t hate it when he won it years ago, but now is not the time to think of his own hypocrisy.)

To his home here in London, half an hour away from the tournament, instead of back in America with Emma. It’s been odd staying here for the past two weeks. For so long, he was used to living here alone. Sure, Ariel and Rob would pop in, especially after Milah, but it was his home. It was a place to sleep and shower and watch television between having to constantly be on the road and in the air. Then Emma came along and though she’s here less frequently, she’s made her mark.

Some of her clothes litter his closet, her mugs fill his cabinets, blankets she has bought are in the baskets in his den. She hasn’t been here since mid-September when they needed to get away for a little while, but she’s still everywhere. Killian has been finding her bobby pins in his carpet the entire time he’s been here.

The only thing of Emma’s that isn’t here is Emma.

The sun has set outside, darkness taking over, and though it’s past midnight in America, Killian presses Emma’s name on his phone as he sets the timer on the oven for his dinner.

“Hello?”

“Now, tell me why you’ll answer your phone at one in the morning but not during daylight hours?”

“Because I’m a stubborn ass with no real sense of time.”

Killian huffs and moves to his living room, plopping down on the couch. “Now, I thought that was me.”

“It is. We both are. It’s why we’re dating.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Well, I could say other things, but I’m trying to work on my dirty jokes, trying to say fewer of them.”

“Oh, you should never do that. I like when you’re dirty.” Emma’s silent on the other end of the line, and Killian waits for her to speak, to make another joke, to ask him if he could litter this conversation with innuendos. When she doesn’t, he decides it’s better to bite the bullet now than to drag it out. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I want to change what I was wearing to get the mail this morning,” Emma says through gritted teeth. “I don’t know how I could have been so damn stupid.”

“It’s a private area. You thought you were safe. It’s understandable, love. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You were going to have to tell everyone eventually.”

“Eventually being the key word.” She whistles, and if he had to guess, she’s sitting in bed with a tub of icing in her lap and one of her favorite shows on the television. She’ll beat herself up about the icing tomorrow even if she shouldn’t. “Mary Margaret took my phone for a little while so I couldn’t check anything online. That’s why I didn’t answer you when you called earlier. It’s been…a day. I’m sorry you didn’t make it to the semi-finals.”

“Yeah, me too,” he tells her, allowing himself to wallow for a moment. “I get to come home to you sooner, though.”

“I’ve saved the tree for you to help me put up. And Mary Margaret has started on the sides for Thanksgiving. There’s going to be so much food for you to pig out on before off-season training starts.”

He can hear the smile now. Good.

“There’s nothing I’m looking forward to more. I’ve heard there’s such a thing as a dad bod, and I fully intend on getting one this holiday season.”

Emma blows air out her nose. “You and I both know that’s not true. You’re too vain for that.”

“I am devilishly handsome, aren’t I?”

“I’ll let you keep thinking that. Killian?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I’ll be fine. This entire…situation has sucked, but I’m slowly coming around to it. What happens, happens, and I’ll deal with it. If I can get through half the things I’ve gotten through, I can get through a human being growing inside of me and the world knowing about it. I think the hardest part is how bored I am. Do you have any idea what it’s like to constantly be on the move and then for it to suddenly stop?”

“No, I don’t.” He pulls a blanket over his lap to warm him. “I hope I never find out.”

“I hope you don’t either.” Emma yawns, and the corners of Killian’s lips tug up. Maybe this means she’ll try to sleep instead of staying up worrying all night. “I think I’m going to go to sleep. Or at least try.”

“Goodnight, Swan. I love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

-/-

Killian gets two weeks off in Florida for Thanksgiving and to have a break from training. It’s lovely to do nothing if only for a moment (he would be horrible having to take the extended break like Emma) and to spend it with Emma and her family, but then it’s back to practice and tweaking his game during the off-season.

Rob and Nemo work him harder than they ever have, bemoaning him about his slow legs and his age – he’s nearly twenty-nine, which was once considered ancient in his sport – but he keeps pushing through. Hours are spent on the court and in the gym, and the rest of his days are spent with Emma, going on walks and watching TV in their house. She’s still practicing and going to the gym, even if those are modified to how they were before, and if Killian closes his eyes, it’s almost like normal.

But then, slowly, December passes, Christmas lights everywhere fading a little every day, and Killian is packing several suitcases for the month he’s going to spend in Australia. Three years ago, Australia is where it all began for them, and it’s odd to be going without Emma.

She’s made a rule that most of their conversations have to be about things other than the baby. Part of it is because Mary Margaret overloaded Emma with baby talk. It was constantly about names and clothing and what color the nursery should be painted. If it wasn’t that, it was book after book about pregnancy, hormone changes, and the many processes that happen when giving birth.

Even for Killian, who isn’t particular about medical procedures, that was too much. He loves Mary Margaret as much as Emma does, and while she’s great most of the time, it all has been a little much.

The media attention has been too.

Thus, Emma’s rules. Their lives are supposed to go on as normal with the occasional conversation about the baby, usually when it’s absolutely necessary or when it’s late at night and they’re in bed or lounging on the couch watching TV and Killian’s hand finds Emma’s ever-growing stomach.

He thinks that’s what’s so bloody difficult for him as he zips up his suitcase. He’s going to be gone for a month, and in that month, everything can and will change.

Killian is missing seeing his child grow and missing being with his girlfriend, and as much as he loves what he does, as passionate as he is about having the fucking best job in the world, he would trade it all to not have to give up so much of their lives.

Emma would never let him.

She’d slap him if she knew he was even having these thoughts.

“Do you like this jacket?” Emma asks as she shuffles through their closet next to him. “I mean, I like that it’s red, but do you think it’s too bold?”

Killian turns and looks, glancing up and down at Emma. “I like the red leather.”

Emma nods and smiles, looking at herself in the mirror and tugging the coat over her stomach. “One day again, it’ll zip up.” She rolls her eyes and then begins to take it off, but Killian stops and walks toward her, running his fingers over the lapels until she’s flush against him.

“One day,” he echoes before dipping his head to her neck and running his lips across her jaw, “but for now, I think it’s fine to not have you covered up.”

Emma cranes her neck and makes a nose he’s going to memorize and take with him all the way to Australia. “That was a horrible line. You need to be a better flirt. This isn’t working for me at all.”

His hand falls from her shoulder and slowly makes its way to her ass before he has a firm grip. She makes that noise again, and Killian smirks against her neck.

“Well,” he drawls, making his accent as thick as he can as he nibbles at her ear, “I have forty-five minutes before I have to go. What do you say I use about fifteen of those focusing on you?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Oh, absolutely. I want to take in as much of you as I can while I can.”

“Dirty,” he whispers in her ear before kissing her and walking her out of the closet and back to the bedroom.

-/-

January 2015.

ES: Good luck today, babe! Or tomorrow. I’m not really sure what time it is in Australia, but I do know I will not be awake for your match.

Killian laughs at his phone. He’s been here three weeks, and Emma still hasn’t gotten the time difference down. He figured she wouldn’t be too bad with it since she makes this trip every year, but according to David, he changed all of Emma’s clocks and she never really knows the difference after the first two days.

It’s technically yesterday afternoon back home, or at least it was when she sent this, and he texts her back, thanking her and promising to call after his practice.

He’s got the first night session match in RLA tonight for his quarterfinal match, and if that weren’t three in the morning back home, he knows Emma would be up for it.

He wouldn’t ask anyone to be awake at that ungodly hour for him.

“Have you finished your hair yet?” Ariel asks.

She’s sitting on his bed in his hotel room, has been for an hour even though he definitely did not invite her over, and he’s had to listen to her rambling about sponsorship pitches and contract negotiations and all the things he hates the entire time. So he’s spending a little extra time messing with his hair and shaving his beard. She’s used to this, of course, and probably knows the exact amount of time it’ll take him to get ready better than he does.

“Not quite, love.”

“You know you’re going to put it under a hat and get it all sweaty, right? It doesn’t matter what it looks like.”

Killian shakes his head and puts his razor down before walking out of the bathroom to peek his head over at Ariel. “Are you really that bored that you can’t find something else to do other than bother me?”

She sits up and props herself on her elbows, her red hair flowing down her back, but a small bit gets stuck in her eye. She quickly blows it off. “It’s a big match day, and you’re nervous. I’ve been sent here to keep you occupied so you can’t think about how nervous you are or how much you miss Emma or how much you want to write an entire book of poetry about how much you love her.”

“I have never said that last part,” he counters.

“But you’ve thought it, Mr. Darcy. You and your big ole heart and your obsession with your girlfriend and your baby.”

Killian chuckles and leans against the wall. He crosses his arms over his chest and arches a brow. “Am I not supposed to be in love with my girlfriend and our child?”

Ariel shrugs. “I just think that for someone who loves a woman that much, there might be a ring and a question rattling around somewhere.”

His eyes roll, and outwardly, he deals with the question with annoyance. Inwardly, his heart quickens and he thinks some things he’s been trying not to.

Some things that, well, shake him to his core and make his breathing a little more difficult than normal.

He and Emma have talked about marriage, but it’s always been brief, seemingly inconsequential. It’s something they’d consider a long way down the road, maybe when their lives are normal, when they can profess their love to each other without any professional blowbacks.

With how the game is progressing and how long players are starting to play now, and more than just the top guys, he doesn’t know when that’ll be.

Killian loves Emma. Emma loves him. They’ve both made each other better people and committed to each other and to their unborn daughter, and Killian doesn’t see that ever changing, marriage license or not.

“A,” he whispers, his fingers tapping over his bicep, “Whatever happens with us is as much up to Emma as it is to me. We like how things are now, and I can write a book of poetry on our love no matter if she is my wife or not.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just want to go to that wedding. I feel like it would be the party of a lifetime.”

“Tell you what, I’ll take you to the party of a lifetime when I win this damn tournament. We’ll go clubbing like we both don’t go to bed for ten when we can.”

Ariel winks. “You’ve got yourself a deal. Now, come on, we’ve got things to do, and you’re making us late with all your unnecessary primping.”

“Because I’m that damn good-looking and should accentuate it when I can.”

Ariel rises from the bed wand comes over to pat his shoulder. “Whatever you tell yourself to sleep that night.”

-/-

Killian runs through his practice with ease, and he feels good. He’s seeing the ball clearly, doesn’t feel any aches in his body, and though his opponent has handed Killian’s ass to him on a silver platter many times, he’s feeling good about tonight.

Until he isn’t.

It’s the second set when it happens.

Killian is up a set and has two break points to solidify a lead when he’s running down a forehand and loses his footing on the court. His ankle is the first thing to twist, and before he can think, he’s propelling forward toward the ground.

For the entirety of his life, Killian has been told not to fall on his wrists. It’s the first thing any athlete learns. Hell, it’s the first thing anyone learns, but instinct takes over him in that moment. He’s trying to keep from landing flat on his face, and so he lands on his left wrist.

His fucking left wrist, which has caused him trouble his entire career.

Now, though, as he sits on his courtside chair and the tournament medical examiner touches him, he knows this is worse than any injury he’s had in the past.

Fucking hell, he has to pull out of the tournament.

He doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to play for the rest of the season.

Shit.  

Should have fallen on his face and knocked out his teeth. He could still play with no teeth.

-/-

“It’s a fracture,” a doctor tells him that night as he sits in a hospital bed in nothing but one of those awful paper gowns. “You’ll want to consult with your physicians back in Britain, but I’d say a ten-week recovery at the least, six months at most.”

“That’s not exactly a short time span,” Killian grumbles. “You can’t give me something more exact?”

He shrugs. “I think it’ll most likely be about three months for you, but you won’t know until you start playing again. It’s more the rehab than the recovery that I would worry about.”

“Thank you, Dr. Weissman,” Rob tells the doc, dismissing him before Killian can take the piss out of the man for doing his job. Dr. Weissman nods and leaves the room, and all that’s left are Killian, Rob, and Ariel. Nemo is back at the hotel, probably watching the video of Killian ruining their season over and over again. “How are you feeling, Jones?”

“Just peachy,” he lies, flashing them his brightest smile before it falls. He pushes his hair back and yanks at the strands, pulling hard enough for it to hurt. “Fuck.”

What has he done to himself?

People are playing longer now, but what if he isn’t one of those? What if this is the injury that begins the slow deterioration of his career? The one that whittles him away from a great player to a star trying too hard to hang onto his shine?

He hates himself for even thinking that because it’s conceited and self-loathing and all the other things he’s tried not to be lately. He was the one who had to talk Emma through something similar, to tell her that the pregnancy wouldn’t be the end of her career, that one day she’d be standing at the top of the podium again with a shiny trophy in hand.

It all felt so convincing when he was telling her that.

But he’s also an asshole who can seldom take his own advice.

And what Emma is going through is much harder than what he is, so how dare he even compare the two situations?

Seriously.

Fuck.

-/-

February 2015. 

David picks him up at the airport in Florida, but it could have been a stranger and Killian wouldn’t know the difference. He’s been moping on a plane for twenty-four hours and doesn’t notice much of anything.

That is until he walks in the front door of his home and is wrapped in the tightest embrace he’s ever felt. Emma, like always, smells of vanilla and flowers, and he inhales her scent. It’s been a month without it, and he never wants to lose it again. Her hand comes into his hair, scratching down to his skull, and she pulls him as close as possible, her stomach pressed between them. She’s seven months along now, was six when he left, and the difference feels almost impossible to describe.

He tries not to think of all he’s missed, not when he’s back in her arms once more.

What a beautiful place to be.

He’s thought that his world was falling apart, that he had no control over anything, and it was one disaster after another.

As his uninjured arm run up and down Emma’s back and he continues to breathe in her scent and her warmth, he’s reminded that his world, the most important one, is more solid than it’s been since he lost Liam.

If his brother could see him in this moment, even when his mind and body are at low points, Killian would hope that Liam would be proud of Killian’s accomplishments instead of disappointed in Killian’s failures.

“I missed you,” Emma whispers against his cheek.

“I missed you, too, Swan. You have no idea how much.”

“Are you okay?”

“I will be.” His hand comes to rest in her ponytail. “I promise I will be.”

-/-

The world seems to stop for the both of them, and it’s not just because Killian spends his first week at home moping in bed, watching more TV than he has in years. Emma joins him, lounging with her legs crossed over his, basically using his body to make herself comfortable when her back is sore, and if it weren’t for food delivery services, they likely wouldn’t eat. Well, at the very least, they wouldn’t eat any proper meals. Emma’s doctor wouldn’t like that.

Killian’s doctor, on the other hand, has encouraged him to stay active but to rest his wrist. He’s not supposed to pick up a racket except to lightly hit a few forehands, and he definitely isn’t supposed to do any weight work in the gym lest he wants his arms to become horribly unbalanced.

It’s a change in lifestyle, and Killian hates it.

He obviously still hates himself because he spends a hell of a lot of time online looking at articles and tweets about the Australian Open. Half of them are about him, half are about the eventually winners, and a small sprinkling are about how Emma couldn’t defend her title because of her pregnancy.

That sends him into another spiral, and in the darkness of their bedroom, he reads article after article about how Emma Swan will never come back to the game, about how she’s ruined her career, about how if she does come back, she shouldn’t have a protected ranking because pregnancy is not an injury and does not merit any help in building back a ranking.

Absolute bullshit.

How is the WTA the largest sports organization for women and yet it has no pregnancy protections for its players?

That sets him off more than anything else, and as Killian reads article after article and tweet after tweet, and he hopes to God that Emma hasn’t spent her nights reading this like he has.

What kind of darkness has he stumbled into, and how does he get out of it?

“Get up.”

Killian groans and rolls over, burying his face in his pillow and trying to go back to the sleep he didn’t know he’d fallen into. His head is screaming at him.

“KJ, get up.” He feels Emma’s hands on him, shaking his shoulders, but he ignores her. The last thing he wants to do is open his eyes and get out of bed. “My water broke.”

He immediately flips over and sits up, staring at Emma who is standing over the bed with her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you serious? What are you doing just standing there? Have you called your doctor? It’s too soon for your water to have broken.”

Her eyes roll. “My water did not break. It’s noon, and you’re still in bed. Get up.”

“Now, that’s just cruel. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I didn’t expect for you to be coherent enough to really listen.” Emma sits down on the edge of the bed and leans in to kiss his cheek and brush his hair back. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Now I’m never going to believe you if you tell me your water has broken.”

Emma shrugs. “Next time I say it, I promise I will mean it.” Her hands wander down his side, moving over his collarbones and through tufts of hair on his chest. She’s always fond of doing that. “Look, I get the moping and the internet doom scrolling. I’ve been through that, and I support you doing whatever you need to do.”

“I feel like there’s a but coming.”

“But,” Emma continues, “this baby girl is coming in two months, possibly less, and I don’t know if you’ve looked in the nursery since you got home, but it’s all boxes and disassembled furniture.”

“You didn’t get to all that while I was gone?” She yanks on his hair, and he grits his teeth to keep from yelping. “Only teasing, love.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get to it. All of this baby stuff freaks me out and after putting together one railing for the crib and having a hormonal meltdown because I didn’t want it to be my fault if the crib fell apart while she was sleeping in it, I stopped. Figured it’d be better if you were here.”

“So that it’d be my fault if the crib fell apart?”

“Exactly.” She tilts her head toward the bedroom door. “I made you coffee, so get your ass out of bed and lend me a hand.”

He raises his broken, wrapped up wrist. “Was that pun intended?”

“Believe it or not, no.” She leans in to kiss his cheek once more. “I’m not going to kick you while you’re down.”

“You’re just going to kick me out of bed.”

“Exactly.”

His legs slowly drag him out of bed and to the kitchen, where he takes the pain medication he’s allowed to take, downs some water, and drinks his coffee. It’ll be awhile before the caffeine and medication kick in, so he tries to blink himself awake to get rid of the sleepiness and the pain.

It doesn’t work.

He does, however.

Emma’s been up for awhile and has moved all the boxes in the nursery into their own sections. It’s just as chaotic as it was before, but it at least looks a little more put together. Killian settles down in front of the crib, reads through the instructions, and he starts piecing things together while Emma works on the dresser. She flits around the room, helping him when he needs it, and as much as he’d like to say they finish quickly, they don’t. It takes them all morning just to do those two pieces of furniture and for him to fix the roller on the glider, and he’s exhausted.

Maybe he can convince Emma to take a nap with him later.

After he exercises. He has to move a little today. His body hasn’t been this stiff on a non-tournament day in ages.

Okay, so maybe nap first, then exercise. That sounds like a better plan.

“What the bloody hell is this doing in here?” Killian asks. He bends down and picks up Emma’s gold medal, dangling it on his arm, which is a much safer space than the floor under a stack of books where it was.

“Oh, yeah,” Emma hums, “Mary Margaret wanted me to display that in here.”

“Why?”

“Well, she wanted me to put some of my trophies in here, but I said that was weird and probably a little dangerous. But then she suggested we do, like, this little wall collage of some things about us for her. That’s the achievement I’m proudest of, at least professionally, and I figured it would be kind of badass for my kid to know her mom was an Olympian.”

“Is,” Killian corrects while he walks toward Emma and tucks some strands of hair behind her ear. “Her mom is an Olympian. Present tense.”

Emma shakes her head and looks away, eyelids covering those beautiful green eyes of hers. “Was. I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to competition, Killian. I’ve been reading what exactly my body is going to go through, which, big mistake by the way, and I don’t know how I’m going to get back into competition shape to work my way back up to the top. I spent most of my life conditioning my body to be an athlete. I don’t think it knows how to be a mom and an athlete.”

“You’re always going to be an Olympian and an athlete,” he promises, meaning every word, “and it’s not going to be easy getting back. The cards are fucking stacked against you. But if there’s anyone who can persevere through hardship, it’s you. And me and the babe will be right here with you.”

“Except you’ll probably be back on tour traveling again. Hopefully your wrist will be healed soon, way before she comes.”

Killian leans forward and dips his head down to rest his forehead against Emma’s. “I’m staying with the two of you for as long as I can. Can’t get rid of me that easily, Swan. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“That isn’t as appealing sounding as you think it is.”

Killian tilts his head back with laughter before kissing Emma’s temple. He still hasn’t brushed his teeth this morning and has some major coffee breath. He’s surprised she hasn’t kicked him out of the house yet. She surely will if he attempts to kiss her.

“Let’s install these shelves and then go take a nap, yeah? Get rid of all our fears for a little while with sleeping. Maybe we’ll even go for a walk tonight since the neighborhood is now extra secure.”

“Sounds like a plan, KJ. Oh,” Emma gasps, moving away from him and reaching into a basket to pull out an old book. “I meant to tell you this, but I was shopping for books online and I found one from when I was a kid. I used to read it in the foster system, and I don’t know, it would bring me comfort. I thought maybe it would be a good name for her.”

She hands him the book, and he looks over the cover, reading the words written in large print.

“Olivia,” he whispers, sounding out the name on his tongue. “Olivia Swan-Jones.”

He can’t wait to meet her.

And he can’t wait for her to see what a badass her mom is, and how Emma is definitely going to stand at the top of that podium again.

Hopefully he is too.

-/-

-/-

tag list: @capthamm​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @klynn-stormz​ @scarletslippers​ @jrob64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @sherifemma​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @nikkiemms @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @marrtinski​ @mayquita​ @mariakov81​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda @itsfabianadocarmo​ @iam2307​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kktabjones​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @ouatxxxxx​

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 23

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, car accident

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Thank you for continuing to read this! If you enjoyed it, please reblog it so others can see and leave me feedback or send me an ask! I love to read your thoughts about this couple and their world <3 :)

; Flower Masterpost

-

"You're cute. Aren't you so cute. Yes you are!" Hoseok coos to the little girl on the floor in front of him. He's sitting cross legged while the nine-month old baby girl is laid on a play mat in front of him, giggling wildly as your boyfriend tickles her stomach with fingers and a beaming smile.

Even for someone who has zero interest in ever having kids, even you can't deny the flutter of interest you experience as you watch him. His tattoos are prominent beneath his short sleeved tee, black hair pushed back and from this angle you can see his lip ring too. Everything that makes him look big and intimidating to those who don't know him.

And yet there he is, completely taken by little Hana in a yellow and white dress with cute bees sewn all over it. Which is nothing compared to the adorably high pitched voice he’s talking to her with, very reminiscent of how he talks to Kasumi.

You look over at Amelia, the mommy of said little girl, and smile at her in amusement at Hoseok's antics. Despite having met his friends a few times over the months, this was the first time that you’d actually met and talked to Amelia. Her late term pregnancy had prevented it initially, and then after that it had been that she’d been too busy taking care of Hana.

Namjoon had been missing frequently in the past nine months as well, but you knew that Hoseok thought very highly of Amelia and approved of her for his oldest friend. Which meant that you'd been a little worried that she wouldn't like you or anything. Especially when you found out that Hana would be here too.

"He adores her," Amelia says with a grin, nodding over at the two and you take a moment to simply watch as Hoseok lifts Hana up and holds her in his arms. "Uncle Hobi, he was so excited when we told him that we were pregnant."

"He's good with her." You say simply, continuing to watch him and feeling the ever familiar pang of anxiety run through you. He is good with her. Maybe too good, and you suddenly worry that maybe he wants kids in the future.

You'd put on the app that you didn't, but that hadn't been a question that Hoseok's profile showed. And it simply hadn't come up since. Mainly because...well you just didn’t think about kids. They never entered your head because you had zero interest in them. Now suddenly, you were realising that maybe that had been a faux pas.

Given that he was the only child of his parents now, it would make sense for him to want kids. Carry on his family name, pass on his heritage and give his parents grandchildren that they could dote on and love upon. He was the only one left in his family to do that after all. And he was evidently good with them, as you could see.

Would he be angry when he found out you never wanted them? Maybe even break up with you? Kids were a deal breaker, you knew that. 

You would never agree to them. The maternal instinct that some women had, like Amelia had, just didn’t exist in you. You never looked at a child or baby and thought about wanting one in the future. Instead, you just looked at them and shuddered at the very thought. The idea of having to spend eighteen years minimum raising another person was horrifying to you.

All the money that you could’ve used for vacations or things you enjoyed gone, the time you could’ve spent on yourself or with your partner, gone. There was nothing worse you could personally imagine, not to mention the fact that you just didn’t like kids. You didn’t get on with them, you didn’t understand them, they were germ machines and you always wanted to cringe when you saw parents cleaning up the bodily fluids, and more, that kids produced.

As a result, you’d decided many years ago that being a parent simply wasn’t for you and it was never going to be for you. Not only did you have no interest, but you didn’t want to bring a child into the world just because you felt pressured from your partner. You didn’t like kids, but that didn’t mean you felt it was fair for a kid to grow up knowing their mother never wanted them.

Uneasiness bubbled as you silently watched him, potential futures shattering in your mind already. You're distracted though by Amelia's hand as it rests on your arm lightly, the shriek of annoyance from Jimin's fiance, Eden, causing you to jerk in alarm as you’re brought out of your reverie.

"You can hold her if you want. I don't mind. She's very sociable. I think I got lucky with one of those blessedly sweet babies." She has an endearing look on her face that softens into that look of pure love that parents get for their kids. You wonder what it is about babies that does that to some people.

Brow rising, you look back and watch Hana closely for a moment. She's fully delighted by the playfulness of your boyfriend and you smile at her bright grin, noting for a moment how much she looks like her dad. His little girl was going to grow up with his dimples at the very least.

"Ah...don't take this the wrong way, but I don't really...get along with kids. She's cute though. I’m just...not comfortable?" You add on hastily, raising a hand to try and ward off any anger that Amelia might feel towards your comment. Parents got funny when people said they didn't like kids, as if it were a personal insult or something.

There were certainly kids out there that you would happily turn it into an insult, but Hana was too adorable for that. Even if you were slightly endeared by her, but you had no intention of getting close to her.

"Oh? Not a kid person?" Amelia grins broadly, hand covering her mouth as she lets out a laugh that's soft. Her husband appears suddenly, resting a hand on her shoulder before kissing her forehead gently and sitting next to her.

He gives you a polite smile and nod of the head before looking between you both with a questioning glance. "You don't like kids?"

The question is a bit louder than you would have liked, and you feel the familiar rush of heat and sickness as all attention moves to you. Oh no, this was not how you wanted Hoseok to find out. Or anyone. Like you said, people got funny about stuff like this.

It was even worse in this environment, as Hoseok was having to find out your complete lack of interest in children in front of all of his friends. This could be his relationship literally falling apart while they watched on.

Swallowing thickly, your hands play nervously together as you look between them all before giving a weak smile. "I mean...I d-don't hate them. I just...it's hard to explain. I don't...I cant get along with them. I don't...know how to get on their level. I feel stupid playing, I just cant do it and...well it makes me uncomfortable to try."

There's silence for a moment, broken only by the gurgling laughter of Hana and you slowly look up at Hoseok, dread coursing through your body. Only he's not looking at you in disgust.

The crease between his brows says something else entirely, and you watch as he shuffles over, Hana still firmly in his arms before he rests a hand on your knee and gives you a warm smile. His hand is hot on you, yet the reassurance he sends silently makes your eyes sting with unwashed tears as you look down.

"There's nothing wrong with that. It's the 21st century. Some people want to be parents and some don't. Don't feel ashamed of it! Own it. I wanted kids but power to you if you don't." Amelia said with a bright grin, arms held out as she accepts her daughter once more.

"Yeah, think of all the vacations we can go on. Games we can buy, cats...other stuff I can't think of." Hoseok's nose wrinkles as he tries to think and you let out a soft breath of laughter, running your fingers through his hair.

His hand squeezes slightly and you smile in gratitude, recognising that there's probably going to be a conversation about this later. Which is fine. It's something that you'd expect and you wouldn't want to leave him unsure as to where he stood in regards to this.

Looking back at Amelia and Hana, you can't help the soft laugh that leaves you as you watch Namjoon pull faces at his daughter. The man is the loving example of a gentle giant and your experience in his presence previously has shown you that he can be just a little bit of a klutz. He's awfully sweet though, with a bashful smile and always willing to help no matter what it is.

You think Amelia got a good one there, watching them both grin at each other as Hana let out a high pitched giggle that had all of you smiling. They made a great family, and you looked down at Hoseok to see him watching them both too.

Feeling your gaze on him, he looks up and runs his hand along your thigh slowly. It's not a sexual gesture, purely comforting and you relax into his touch. In response, you continue to comb your fingers through his thick, dark hair and enjoy the way he leans into you, a quiet hum leaving him.

"Don't worry though. I may not be comfortable with kids but I do recognise when they're cute. And Hana is adorable, she really is." You say to them as you turn back, watching as their faces light up with parental pride. It was funny how easy it was to boost the ego of a parent. Just compliment their child and it's like they've won the lottery.

Not that you were doing it purely to appease them. You were being honest. You hated being around kids, despised the mess they made, but it didn't stop you from occasionally finding babies and young kids cute. They had their sweet moments, but you'd never be convinced to have one.

Kasumi was more than enough for you. Although maybe another cat...or two. 

Namjoon thanks you quietly, his eyes focused on Hana as he takes her and rests her on his chest. She's nine months old, which means that she's not exactly small anymore. And yet she looks tiny in his arms.

You can't help but coo at the sight, causing Hoseok to snort at you. He just shakes his head in amusement when you scowl down at him, kissing your knee affectionately with a bright smile and you flick his ear softly. You may not have any inclination to have kids but dammit, there was something about seeing big, attractive men holding babies that was appealing.

"It'll be Jimin and Eden's turn next!" Jungkook chortles from the floor, his phone firmly in his hand as he plays some stupid game on it. The couple in question both turn and give him a glare, Eden even going so far as to give a slight hiss at the younger man.

"Shut up Kook. He's gotta marry me first. And then I need that promotion. Or a pay rise. With the way my job is going, the planet will have died by the time that happens." She grumbles, poking at Jimin's side and grinning as he lets out a high pitched giggle, body folding over until he almost falls off his seat.

“I’m gonna make the cutest babies though. Watch out everyone. When you look as cute as me, you’ve got no chance.” Jimin says when he finally stops, laughter makes his voice breathy before he looks at everyone and smiles sweetly, pressing a finger into the dimple of each cheek. Smiling, you can’t help but acknowledge that he really is cute.

But it evidently doesn’t go that way with his friends though. Hoseok starts it, making an overly exaggerated retching noise and holding his throat before he pretends to gag repeatedly. This is then followed by Jungkook and Taehyung imitating him while Yoongi sniggers to the side, hand pressing into his mouth to hide his gummy smile.

“Excuse me, but I think you’ll find that Namjoon evidently makes the cutest babies out of you all. And there’s proof right here.” Amelia interrupts their hijinks with a smug smile, leaning against Namjoon and looking down at Hana with an equally soft and fond look.

There’s a moment of silence as everyone looks at each other before Seokjin snorts, rolling his eyes and leaning back. “Well, that’s not fair is it? You can’t use physical proof when none of us have had a chance to prove you wrong. And anyway, as the most handsome member of this entire friend group...I think you’ll find the cutest baby award is going to go to me and my future beau.” 

“Shut up Seokjin.” Yoongi says bluntly, causing everyone to laugh at the sudden rebuke to Seokjin’s burst of confidence. Over the months being with Hoseok, you’d come to know his friends personalities a little more and you still found it fascinating that they all worked well with each other. Seokjin in particular was fascinating, with his seemingly never ending reservoir of self-confidence boosting him through any awkward situations.

Though you had more than a slight suspicion that he wasn’t actually that big headed or confident, but you knew that some people believed it was good to fake it till you make it. And he seemed to be doing well, so you certainly were not going to be the one to call him out on that. If anything, you admired him and wished that you had the courage to be that bold.

The conversation carries on after that, meandering through a ridiculous number of topics. You’d become used to it by this point and if anything, your own random nature when it came to conversation helped to increase the absurdity of what you talk about. Which is why you all end up discussing what kind of fantasy world you wish you could actually live in.

You’d maintained that it would be cool to be able to have magic and dragons, but then Seokjin had pointed out that you’d probably end up like an NPC in Skyrim and get eaten or randomly killed in some stupid accident. That had slightly altered your opinion, though you’d pointed out that you’d obviously be the hero of the story.

It had been firmly abandoned though when Hoseok had told you that it would mean no electricity, no running water and no internet. Which meant no Netflix, no toilets and no showers. That had made you pause more than anything, causing your eyes to widen and face to grimace until he was laughing hard.

You could handle no Netflix, they’d have books after all, but no toilets and showers is most certainly a no in your view. Which is why you swiftly change worlds to a science fiction world instead. Toilets, showers, internet and more in that world.

Throughout all of the conversations though, you could tell that Hoseok was happy and content with his situation. He spent most of the time leaning against your legs while you played with his hair, running your fingers through the soft black strands affectionately and enjoying how his mere presence had become such a calming influence on you.

Unfortunately though, over the months of dating him you’d discovered that while he loved having his hair played with, it was also a quick way to get him drowsy. Which was why his head was resting against your thigh heavily, his responses getting slower every time.

Bending over until your lips are brushing against that soft hair, you kiss his temple before running your fingers over his forehead. “Hey...do you want to go? You’re practically falling asleep.” 

There’s no response for a second before Hoseok murmurs, stretching out and making the strangest noises as he does so, his arms pushing out before he sits back bonelessly and looks back up at you. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

You’d both spent a few hours out and it was a novel concept for you to be the one asking Hoseok if he wanted to leave. Even more novel that he’d said yes, but you didn’t point that out, instead just saying your goodbyes to everyone and waiting for Hoseok to say his own before heading out.

Getting into your car, you turn on the engine and wait for him to finish belting himself in before smiling over at him. You’d driven over this time and you were both going back to your place for the night, letting Hoseok have the novelty of being a passenger. Apparently he’d been the designated driver for most events for years now, wanting to make sure everyone else was taken care of if they were going somewhere that required someone to drive.

It felt nice, normal even as you drove back home. Namjoon and Amelia lived around 20 minutes away from your apartment, meaning that you both got to enjoy the peace of just listening to music. The playlist was now an odd mix of metal, pop and indie. When it had become apparent that your relationship was getting more serious, and the two of you spent more time in a car together, you’d both spent a good two hours bickering over what should be on the official ‘driving playlist’ that you now both had on your Spotify accounts.

Some of the songs he endured, Hoseok really was not a fan of Ariana Grande or Ed Sheeran, whereas some of the songs you grit your teeth through. You could probably happily go the rest of your life never listening to another Metallica song.

Which you were convinced personally offended Hoseok on an atomic level.

But you put up with it for him, because he put up with your music too. Even sang along on occasion. He just had to have a lovely singing voice too, but he’d complimented your own many times when you’d sung under your breath quietly.

Despite that, you bite your lip as your fingers tap on the steering wheel, not even taking in the sounds of Ed Sheeran crooning through the speakers. His car was newer than yours, but you still found her reliable. Even if she occasionally seemed to be on the brink of breaking down.

That’s not what you’re thinking about though. Instead...it’s the conversation from earlier in the day that won’t leave your mind. The conversation about children. Hoseok had taken your admission well, but part of you wondered if that was just because he was surrounded by his closest friends and he didn’t want to start something that could potentially be an argument.

But you wanted to make sure. You wanted to have a serious conversation with him about it. Children were a big thing, an important thing to think about in relationships and they changed lives. They cost money and time and affection, and you knew that relationships in which one person saw children in their future and the other didn’t wouldn’t work out well.

If Hoseok genuinely wanted kids, then you just couldn’t see the relationship going any further. And despite as strongly as you felt for him already, you just couldn’t put yourself through the pain of falling further for him only to know that he would want something you couldn’t give him. Wouldn’t give him.

Because there was nothing that would get you to have kids. Not even Hoseok.

You needed to talk with him, even if the very thought of it terrifies you. Because you didn’t have intimate, deep conversations like this with people most of the time. And the idea of him saying something that you wouldn’t agree with was painful. You’d gotten so comfortable with him, the possibility of him not being there anymore was already hurting your chest.

“So...err...earlier...I mean...you know when you were playing...with Hana,” You start, gripping the wheel tighter as you start to feel hot yet cold at the same time. Licking your lips, you swallow again and wish you had a drink suddenly. “And I..err..I said that...about kids. Erm, I need...I want...I mean...do you want kids?”

The question is almost meek after all the stopping and starting you’d just done, coming out quick yet fast as you almost hope he doesn’t hear. But he does. You can tell he does by the way he looks at you, glancing at him quickly out of the corner of your eye before turning back to face the road.

He takes a deep breath before taking your free hand, twining your fingers and stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. You’re thankful that he’s obviously taking this seriously and not just blurting out an answer he thinks you might want, or just blurting out something without considering what he’s saying.

“I’m sorry you had to say that in front of them all. You shouldn’t have had to explain that. I felt bad that you were put on the spot like that. But to answer you...no I don’t want kids. And I was actually super fucking relieved when you said you don’t want them either.” Silence falls between you then, only the soft music filtering through the speakers and the engine of the car audible.

He doesn’t want kids. Hoseok doesn’t want kids either. You don’t want them. Your futures were actually compatible with each other. For a few moments, your mind shorts out almost as you consider that. 

“Why?” Falls from your lips before you realise, and you widen your eyes immediately after, glancing at him with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer if it’s personal. Ignore m-”

“It’s okay. I think my girlfriend is definitely the one person I can explain why I don’t want kids. Your reason is perfectly fine by the way, I’m being serious. There’s nothing wrong in just not wanting to be a parent. I don’t hugely get the fascination in losing all my time and money and energy onto this tiny person who suddenly becomes the most important person in your life. They’re cute to me, and I love being around them but...no. It’s not for me.” He pauses, running his fingers over his lips slowly before sighing.

“I wish I could just say I don’t like kids. But honestly I love them. And maybe in another life I’d have loved to be a dad. Not now though. Not ever. I can’t...I can’t invest that much of myself in someone that’s half me. That level of love and sacrifice that parents put into their kids...that terrifies me.” You can tell he looks over at you then and you squeeze his hand, understanding him but unsure why he’s so worried about it still.

“I mean...I think most people feel like that right? And most parents don’t regret it. Maybe you’d be a great dad and you’d love it?” Why you’re trying to talk him into kids suddenly is beyond you, but you don’t want him to feel like his choice has been stifled by you.

“I know most don’t regret it. But then some do. From what you’ve said...I think you could end up in that category and I couldn’t ask that of you. I might be wrong obviously. No...I never want kids, because I just...can’t handle that. That’s too much of myself I have to invest and...and if it all goes wrong then I just...I don’t know how people do it.” You know what he’s talking about then, the reason behind why his voice goes so husky suddenly.

His sister.

“You’re talking about your sister, aren't you?” He doesn’t answer for a moment, just strokes your hand before sighing deeply. It’s an even deeper sigh than before, and you ponder for a moment over the fact that you’ve never seen or heard Hoseok sounding so unsure or...sad.

“Yeah. I mean...she was my sister, and that completely ruined my world for years afterwards. I don’t...I don’t know how my parents did it. You put so much love into a child, you spend nine months waiting for them and then you spend years helping them to grow, watching them take their first words, first steps, first laugh, smile and so much more. And then there’s a chance that it’s all gone, in an instant. Because of a drunk driver, or they stepped out into the road, or...a completely random occurrence. Then you have nothing. Nothing but...pain and hurt and loss and grief. And it’s a pain that doesn’t go away. My mom cries every year on her birthday, at Christmas and on the anniversary of her death. It hurts her just as much now as it did then.” He pauses for a moment, sniffling and you realise quietly that he’s crying.

Carefully, you don’t look at him because you know it’ll set you off too. And you really can’t be having that while you’re driving, so instead you just squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“I know that the only reason she carried on is because they had me. But then I think that no matter what they say, they must have had moments of anger as to why I was still here and she wasn’t. They wouldn’t mean it obviously, I know that. But I got to grow up and do everything my sister never got the chance to. I can’t do that. I can’t risk that. And I know the chances are slim...but tell that to my parents. I’m being selfish, but I don’t want to put myself through the risk of that pain. I have no interest in it. So you’re good with me sweetheart. We’ll live a good life with cats and dogs. It hurts less when they go.” You don’t need to look at him to know he’s giving you a smile, and you smile yourself despite the tears that slowly fall at his words.

The pain in his voice tells you that despite what he’s said, despite the therapy he’d undergone and the acceptance he’d had years ago, the death of his sister still hurts. And it has obviously scarred him deeper than anyone else knows. For now, you decide the conversation is over as you don’t want to drag even more bad memories up for him.

“I’m okay with cats and dogs too. Always wanted to be a crazy cat lady.” Laughing lightly, you try to lighten the atmosphere in the car from the dark place you’d accidentally dragged it to. It works, because he lets out a peal of soft laughter that has you smiling happily.

“I’ll be your crazy dog man. Do you want a dog?”

“Maybe. I like cats more.”

“But I love dogs. Think how cute a puppy would be. All small and soft and cute, with tiny barks and so excited to see you.”

“Stop it.”

“With little teeny paws and those big puppy eyes, so desperate to play with you.”

“Hoseok!”

“Okay...be cute though.”

[shannonwrote]

Summary: Another glimpse into Tony Russo’s life.

Characters: Tony Russo, Sofia Russo, Paolo Russo, Robin Flores & Rebekah Hayward (mentioned, OC)

Fandom(s): The Nanny Affair

Notes: Tony was supposed to be a one time thing, but Tony had other ideas, so here's a kind of part two to Foreswear (and if Tony has his way, there may even be a part three).

A big ole thanks to my aunt who read this without any idea who any of these characters were, and offered her advice and opinions on how to make it better.

And of course, and as always, thanks to @txemrn​ for kick starting my Muse and helping me put words to paper.

PS: If you haven’t already, you may want to read Foreswear, but it’s not necessary. Mountebank can be read as a standalone. 

PSS: I also didn’t tag anyone  because I come and go like dust in the wind, and didn’t want to be THAT guy. If you still wish to be tagged, let me know! 

**Some characters and plot lines belong to Pixelberry.**

Tony groaned, as the blanket he was cuddled under was ripped from the couch. He blinked, his sisters silhouette slowly coming into blurred focus. “What the fuck, Sof?!”

Sofia wrinkled her nose, holding the blanket out in front of her, before throwing it onto a chair. “It’s 4 o’clock in the afternoon, Anthony, don’t ‘what the fuck,’ me.” Dusting her hands off, she tossed her phone onto Tony’s chest. “You’re lucky I saw this before Father, or god forbid, the Hayward’s, and was able to pay the right people.” Taking a seat opposite the couch, her gaze roved over him. “You really need to be more subtle.”

Tony tried to swallow, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, already knowing and fearing what she was referring to. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up and stared down at the phone laying in his lap, the headline of an online gossip blog glaring back up at him.

‘Billionaire Sons — Friends or Lovers?’

A picture of Tony wrapped around Robin as they disappeared into Tony’s apartment building, accompanied the headline.

He stilled his trembling hands and plastered a smug grin on his face, before looking up at his sister. “I was expecting better.” He commented, forced disappointment coloring his words.

Sofia clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes. “So was I.”

His eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Robin, Anthony, really?” She gracefully stood from the chair and glided into the kitchen. “You’re a Russo, you could have anyone, and you pick Robin?”

Tony finally swallowed the lump that had been forming in his throat since his sister had woken him up. Forcing his voice into a tone of nonchalance, he responded. “If you must know, I picked Tinsley. The paparazzi picked Flores.”

Sofia emerged from the kitchen with a glass of amber liquid and her eyebrow raised. “Tinsley?” She huffed a disbelieving laugh, shaking her head. “We both know you just use her to get off, brother mine. That’s why your relationship has never left the bathroom.” Turning his palm, she set the glass in his hand. “Stop hiding,” she patted his cheek, “or hide better. If you keep this up, a version of the truth will come out, whether you want it to or not.”

Tony finished the liquid in one gulp, shuddering slightly as it burned its way down his throat, and brushed Sofia’s hand from his cheek. “It’s a gossip blog, Sofia. They exist to spread lies and cause drama.” He stood up from the couch. “If there was any truth to what they posted, their front page would picture Flores and your fiancée’s nanny.”

“Robin? And Sam’s nanny?” She echoed, her voice rising a few octaves.

Tony smirked at Sofia’s clear distaste for Dalton’s nanny. “Did you not see the way he looked at her?” He disappeared down the hallway and into his room, leaving his door ajar. “He’s clearly fucking her.” His stomach soured at the thought. “Or he wants to.”

Sofia hummed. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“That’s because you were too busy shooting eye daggers at her from across the table.” He replied with a laugh, pulling a clean shirt from his closet.

“Maybe,” she replied appearing in his doorway and resting herself against it. Raising a pointed eyebrow in his direction, she continued. “But if it was as obvious as you claim, I’m surprised no one else bothered to mention it.”

Refusing to meet her questioning gaze, he turned his back to her. His hands trembled, his fingers slipping, as he slowly buttoned his shirt. “Probably because they were too busy reminiscing about the excellent tongue lashing she delivered to Pops.” Sliding his arms into his hunter green suit jacket, he turned back to Sofia. “Because it was excellent.” He paused at the button of his slacks. “Do you mind?”

Sofia rolled her eyes, turning from the doorway. “I don’t understand everyone’s fascination with her. She’s just the nanny.” Her said, her voice full of strained indifference.

Tony grinned, pulling on a pair of dark wash jeans, not bothering to tuck in his dove gray button-up. “Is that jealousy I hear, Sof?”

Sofia laughed, the sound similar to the ringing of church bells, just a few notes too high and long. “She’s the nanny, Anthony, please.”

“Right,” he agreed with a smirk, stepping around her and into the bathroom, “just the nanny.” He didn’t bother glancing in the mirror, knowing he wouldn’t like the face he found staring back at him. Running a hand down his face, he grabbed the bottle of mouthwash, swallowing down a handful of sips. He quickly dashed himself with enough cologne to hopefully hide the smell of stale cigarettes, alcohol, sweat and sex, and reappeared back in the hall.

“You smell like a cheap whore.” Sofia commented, adjusting his suit jacket.

“Fuck. I was aiming for an expensive escort.” He shrugged exaggeratedly. “Nothing to be done about it now.” He pulled her perfectly manicured fingers from his jacket. “Speaking of whores,” he said leading them back into the living room, “Pops is still fucking Clara.”

Sofia made a sound of disgust, her face scrunching in distaste.

He turned to face her, his hands lifting. “I don’t get it either, and I didn’t ask her to explain.” He fumbled through his cushions, cursing to himself when he located his dead cell phone. Sticking it into his back pocket, they entered the elevator, Sofia pressing the button for the lobby.

"Mr. Russo," the security guard called as they stepped off the elevator. "Mr. Flores left your keys, sir."

Stepping up to the desk, Tony tried to steady his racing heart. Grabbing the keys from the guard, he nodded his head in thanks. Turning back to Sofia, he dangled his keys in her direction. “How’d you get here?” His voice catching slightly in his throat.

“Stefan drove me.” She raised her eyebrows knowingly. “It’d be best if you didn’t try and make an early exit today, brother, you know what’s expected of you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand dismissively, his stomach twisting in knots at the reminder. “I’ll be there.” He glanced at his sister, offering her a smile full of forced nonchalance and arrogance, and disappeared in the direction of his buildings parking structure.

Speeding his way through the clustered streets of Manhattan, he steadily made his way through his pack of Black & Milds. His stomach fluttered with a mixture of dread and nervousness, as the weight of family and society obligations threatened to tear his heart from his chest.

Releasing his breath in a puff of smoke, Tony slid his Maserati to a stop in front of an upscale French bistro. His door was opened a moment later by the valet, who offered him a deep bow and a mumbled “Monsieur Russo.”

Handing his keys off, Tony sailed his way toward the restaurant, his posture dripping with layers of practiced pomp and circumstance, trying his best to ignore the blackhole solidifying in his stomach.

“You’re late.” Paolo growled, as soon as Tony stepped inside.

Tony turned to face his father with an overzealous grin, his teeth glinting in the soft lights of the bistro. “Or am I arriving exactly when I planned to, Pops?”

Paolo’s jaw clenched, his forehead creasing in annoyance and disdain. “Anthony,” another growl, deeper, more pronounced, “if you disappointment me - “

“Don’t worry, Pops, I got this.” Tony clapped him on the shoulder, his grin still spread wide across his face, and the blackhole in his stomach growing.

Paolo swatted Tony’s hand from his shoulder as if it were as disgusting and inconvenient as a fly. “See that you do.” He slid a small velvet box into Tony’s hand. “Come,” he rumbled, “we’re expected.”

The impatient grumble erupting from the back of his fathers throat pulled Tony into step beside him, leaving him no time to consider the small box resting heavily in his hand.

— - — - — - —

The lights of the city floated in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting their twinkling glow around the disarray of Tony’s studio. The melodic sound of dueling pianos turning the sound of car horns into their own sort of song, while the smell of paint and plaster and car exhaust mixed pleasantly with the cool night air filtering in through the skylights overhead. Discarded canvases, clumps of clay, half-formed sculptures, and paint smears covered the concrete floor; their finished counterparts stacked elegantly against the red brick of the walls.

Tony stood in the center of his studio, dark gray joggers hanging snug and low on his hips, splashes of paint covering his arms, hands and bare chest, distorting and brightening the tattoos normally hidden by his clothes. A paintbrush was pressed between his teeth, as another danced across the canvas, a dark tango of black and white and scarlet. The slash of deepest black cut through the middle of the canvas, a testament to the mass of poisonous thoughts swirling around in his head.

He had done what he was supposed to do, what was expected. He said all the right things, made the right gestures, promised just enough to seem coy and unsure, but also arrogant and entitled. He had slid to one knee without grimacing, watched the yellow of the diamond glint in the fading light, casting a beautiful shadow against the shadow of cheekbones and watery eyes. And she had said yes, as he knew she would, because she loved him and he loved her.

Fractures of scarlet flew on the canvas, a tale of truth and lies, of real and false love — the tale of Two Tony’s.

Tony’s breath rasped from his lungs, his thoughts spinning, slithering their way onto the canvas. More black. More scarlet. More darkness. More pain.

He lost himself in the feel of brush on canvas. Letting the feelings he kept hidden, his wants and desires and fears and hopes, spill out in paint and color. He was so consumed by the sensations, he didn’t notice his studio had fallen silent until a voice broke his concentration. The voice smooth and crisp, sending a shiver down his spine.

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

The paintbrush fell from his mouth, clattering to the floor and splashing paint across his toes. The brush in his hand fell limp, dragging a sliver of white through the inky reddened blackness of the canvas.

Tony turned slowly, his heart beating hard enough against his chest to break. “Flores.”

“Congratulations.” Robin offered again, moving through the chaos of Tony’s studio as if by memory, as if he got lost here as often as Tony did.

Tony remained silent, watching Robin pick his way across the floor, his heart slamming even harder against his ribs.

Robin stopped in front of a pile of half finished canvases, his eyes roaming the topmost piece. “Is this supposed to be me?”

Tony’s whole body stilled, his heart stuttering to a stop, as he forced out a laughed doused in cockiness. “You wish, Flores.”

Robin clenched his jaw, a slight tick in his cheek. “And if I did?” He mumbled.

“Then maybe you should ask your brothers nanny.” Tony grinned, his veins on fire beneath his skin.

Robbin tightened his hold on the canvas, his gaze slowly rising to meet Tony’s across his sea of finished and unfinished projects. “Why do you only call me when you’re drunk, Tony?”

Because I can hide behind the alcohol, he wanted to say. Because, even if I admit the truth, I can say I was drunk. Instead he said, “because I’m drunk. Safety first.”

He raised an accusatory eyebrow, the tick in his jaw more pronounced. “The real reason, Russo.”

Tony remained silent. His heart constricted in his chest, squeezing so tightly, he was sure it would burst, while the truth chapped his lips.

Robin continued his path to Tony, stepping through broken mugs and sticky paint and dusty plaster. “No?” His path ended less than an arms length away from Tony. “Fair.” He nodded. “Ask me a question then. Ask me why I always answer. Ask me why I always come when you call.”

Tony blinked, Robin’s words catching him off guard. He had never thought, had never considered, the reasons why Robin always answered. Why, no matter the time or day, Robin was there to drive Tony home, to drag him up to his apartment and deposit him on the couch. But he was. Every time. Every single time.

Robin took another step forward, shrinking the distance between them. “Ask me.” He said again, his voice a silky rasp.

Hope rose like a wave inside of him, cashing against his heart, before dropping like a rock in his stomach. Tony had seen the way Flores had watched Sam's nanny during brunch. Recognized the hunger that burned in his gaze, and the gruff tone his voice took whenever he spoke to her — it was the same behavior he had to be wary of every time he was in Robin's presence.

He sucked in a breath, the scent of whiskey and bergamot flooding his senses. “Why? We both know it’s so you don’t get caught with the nanny.”

Frustration burned in Robin’s eyes, his teeth baring in aggravation. “And do you live your fiancée, Russo? Do you love Rebekah Hayward?”

“Yes.” He answered quickly, too quickly.

And he did love her, just not the way he was supposed to. The Hayward’s were like family. Tony had known Rebekah since they were both in diapers, and when her farce of a relationship with Sam Dalton failed, Tony had been there to pick up the pieces, in more ways than one, and definitely not in the way he had wanted.

“And I love Anna.” Robin replied, moving closer.

He swallowed, his mouth dry. “That’s great. Glad we got this all sorted out.” He turned back toward his painting, the colors blurring together, as he blinked away the wetness from his eyes. “I assume you know the way out.”

“Not until you ask me, Tony.”

Robin’s velvety voice whispered against Tony’s neck, they were separated by less than a breath.

Tony closed his eyes, desperation clinging to his eyelashes, alongside his unshed tears. “Why, Flores? Why do you always come when I call?”

Robin rested his forehead against the back for Tony’s. “For the same reason you always notice who I’m flirting with. For the same reason you only call me when you’re drunk.”

Tony’s heart was slamming against his ribs, trying desperately to escape, trying hopelessly not to break. “And why is that, Robin?”

“Because,” he murmured, gently turning Tony around to face him. “Because I love Anna, but I’m in love with you.”

Tony’s breath caught in his throat, his knees shaking beneath him, his heart shattering and reforming again, as his gaze bore into the truthful vulnerability of Robin’s own. “Yo - you’re in love with me?”

Robin nodded, once, his hand coming to rest against the side of Tony’s throat, his thumb running the length of Tony’s pulse point. “I am. I have been for a long time, and I think - I hope you’re in love with me too.”

“Is this real?” Tony managed to choke out.

Robin nodded again. “It is for me.”

Tony studied the man in front of him, he was a masterpiece Tony could never hope to create.

Tony smiled, bashful, hopeful. “It is for me too.” He slid his arms around Robin, the paintbrush forgotten and joining the others on the floor. “I’m in love with you.”

A grin lifted the side of Robin’s face, his other hand working its way to the back of Tony’s neck, his fingers tangling in his hair, before he pulled Tony’s mouth to his, wanting and desperate and full of love.

[any-mouse]

Meet Unda Nox Invigilo! This isn’t her normal outfit, or weapon, but pretty close to her actual face. I spent a lot of quality time with a Latin dictionary to pick out a suitable name. I wanted something that would be a contrast to Ingis, without be so very obvious about that.

Her maternal family tree has a Nox Flueret bastard in it, in part because of my head canon that for every Lucis Caelum there’s a NF. Ardyn had his, Regis had his, but Nox gave up his to Noctis. So, my brain started giggling about a bastard for a bastard and there we were.

Her dad was a self-exiled Furia almost as soon as Unda mentioned Leviathan‘s blessing on their family. He still won’t tell me why, but I’m thinking it’s one of those family arguments that get wildly out of hand unless/until someone does something dramatic. His self-exile was it. Do I know more? No, not really. He really hated drama though.

Ironically, Unda being part NF and part Galahdian is plot relevant. Her NF blood was heavily diluted, but with the influx of Galahdian blood from her dad and a lucky roll in the recessive gene lottery, she’s the closest thing Eos has seen in generations to a true Tidesinger. So of course, she needed some heavy water/ocean related trauma to keep her as far away from her power source as she could manage. Both sides of her heritage play a role in her being a Tidesinger.

I figure in canon she‘s probably dead, probably on this Hunt, but even if not definitely before the Long Night. So long as there were any of Oracle blood, I don’t think the Long Night could really kick off. But having a sudden blaze in what had previously been a minor gift coming fully online and suddenly dealing with the massive drain of fighting off the Long Night would have been deadly. Also! Unda got a minor power boost and a more awakened gift during the cave scene, which is why she passes out all of a sudden. Ardyn and Nox definitely are the reason, no none of them realize it. It’s pretty useless, because Unda is still going to be avoiding the sea as much as she can.

And dear [deity of choice] was it a pain to get them out of the damn cave. They were seriously just, never getting out of there. So when I finally, finally, dragged them out they all started clamming up on me, without even singing the song that was the whole point of this. Unda laughing over the three of them ending up in yet another cave was me doing that so I didn’t cry.

@secret-engima In case you were curious/wanted to know what she looks like.

[quicksilversquared]

Mishaps and Misunderstandings

In which Hawkmoth is an ass, Adrien is sarcastic, and Nathalie wildly misunderstands the situation.

links in the reblog

Hawkmoth was really becoming a pain in the butt now. For the past month and a half, he had been sending out akumas every other night, disrupting Ladybug and Chat Noir's sleep.

Maybe it wasn't the strongest akuma every time- in fact, most of the time, they seemed like bottom-of-the-barrel akumas, low on both powers and creativity- but that didn't change the fact that it dragged the superheroes out of bed and woke them up enough that they lost at least an hour every time. The akumas during the day didn't drop off, either, and between that and all of his civilian responsibilities and activities, Adrien was starting to feel more than a little bit spread thin.

It was exhausting, and he had to wonder how long he would be able to keep it up before he simply collapsed from exhaustion in the middle of- well, anywhere. At school, at a photoshoot, during fencing, in the middle of an akuma attack.

If he could make it to summer, Adrien was pretty certain that he could get caught back up again. But the problem was going to be getting to summer, which was still several months away. His friends were already starting to notice that something was wrong, and if they were noticing, then Adrien was willing to bet that it wouldn't be long before-

"Adrien, your last several photoshoots have been completely subpar. Your father is quite displeased with your work."

-his father's staff noticed, too.

Nathalie looked completely disapproving as she set a folder down on the table next to Adrien. A couple photos peeked out from the top. Peeking out from under the folder was the edge of another piece of paper, probably an updated schedule of what Adrien was expected to accomplish for the week.

"I understand that most of the photoshoots have been early, Adrien, but that's because we're trying to schedule around your other activities," Nathalie chided him, tugging out the piece of paper, and- yep, it looked like Adrien was right. Another photoshoot had been added, it looked like, and an additional fitting. Not that the fitting was really necessary, since the photoshoot was going to be with stuff he had worn before, but that hardly made a difference to the Gabriel staff. "Either we continue doing photoshoots before school, or we'll have to start pulling you out in the middle of the day to get them done while there's still decent light."

"No, then I'll fall behind!" Adrien protested, his mind already spinning with dread at the thought of how much more difficult keeping up with everything would be if he got pulled during school. He would have to stay up even later than he already was to catch up on the class that he was missing on top of what he missed during akuma attacks, and then- well, he could say good-bye to sleep, probably. "I can't miss class!"

He was only just making things work now. The mere idea of missing more class- and several hours for each photoshoot, probably, and in the middle of the day when he had his toughest classes- had panic welling up in Adrien's throat. The walls might as well be closing in on him, and his heartrate was already picking up.

Nathalie set the schedule down, fixing Adrien with a stern look. "Then we expect that you actually look awake and engaged during photoshoots. I don't see why that's a difficult thing to accomplish, it shouldn't be that hard-"

It shouldn't be that hard. Oh, really? Frustration welled up, sudden and overwhelming and shoving his growing panic to the side. Just like that, something inside of Adrien snapped, and he slapped his fork down on the table hard enough to make the entire setting rattle.

"Why is it a difficult thing to not look like I'm falling asleep? Maybe it's because I am falling asleep! And why would I not be?"

"Really-" Nathalie started, eyes rolling heavenward in clear exasperation, but Adrien didn't let her finish. His frustration had properly taken over now, words spilling out completely without his permission.

"I have a million and one activities that I need to be giving 100% in, all the time. I have to get up crazy early for photoshoots so that we can get them done before school, and we've been doing way more of those than usual because of all of the shoots that we have to redo because Father thought that it would be a good idea to humor Lila and let her participate even though she couldn't model at all. For some reason, you've decided that waking me up early or pulling me out of school makes more sense than pulling me out of fencing or skipping Mandarin or piano lessons for a week, or even just using some other model instead." It was all quite infuriating, really. It was hardly as though there weren't other teen models that had practically the same measurements as Adrien, and it wasn't as if his father couldn't make the executive decision to swap out models for a couple shoots. "And pulling me out of school is even more of a bad idea right now than it's ever been before! Do you want to know why?"

"Adrien-" Nathalie tried to cut in again, sighing, but- well, Adrien was tired and fed up and frustrated and just really, really tired and he wasn't going to let her get a word in edgewise.

"We've fallen even more behind schedule in classes than we did last year because of the akuma attacks," Adrien told her, jutting his chin out stubbornly. "And the teachers don't want the school year to extend into summer vacation again like it did last year, so they're trying to catch us up by cramming more and more into lessons during the day and giving us more homework and having us take online courses to help catch up even more. And that means hours more homework every evening and then I can't get to bed on time, even if I don't have extra lessons that day. And then when akumas show up at night- well, it's not like I can just sleep through a supervillain rampaging through the streets, can I? It wakes me up! Every! Single! Time!"

Nathalie paused, leaning back in her seat. "Oh. I see-"

"So if father is displeased by my work, well- tell him to make the nighttime akuma attacks stop, and maybe I'll actually be able to get enough sleep to do a decent job during photoshoots!"

With that, Adrien pushed himself up from the table- he didn't have an appetite anymore, and he had eaten most of his dinner anyway- and headed up to his room before Nathalie could respond. Once he was on his own, Adrien let out a long breath and slumped into the chair at his desk, massaging his temples as though that could make the headache that was starting up go away. Plagg floated out of his jacket, eyeing Adrien cautiously.

"Are you okay, kid?"

"Yeah, yeah, just- just tired," Adrien admitted, turning to his computer. He might as well at least pretend to get some schoolwork done before Nathalie came up to chide him for being disrespectful. "And then Nathalie deciding that now is a great time to add more to my plate- well, I'm a bit tired of it. So I blew up. Not that it'll do me any good."

"You don't think so?"

Adrien snorted. "What, do you think that Nathalie and Father will suddenly grow a heart and back off on my schedule? That's unlikely. They're going to get mad at me for being 'emotional' and blowing things out of proportion, I just know it. Emotional and also being unreasonable at the end there. Like, out of everything in the city that my father can actually control, making the night attacks stop isn't exactly one of them. And bringing that up as though he can actually make that happen as some sort of solution... well, he's going to see that as being emotional and ridiculous and immature. It's not like he can treat Hawkmoth and his akumas just like he does any other problem and just throw money at it to make nighttime akumatizations stop."

"Huh." Plagg considered that, then shrugged. "Well, at least Nathalie has a better idea of what you have on your plate now, with all of the school stuff. Maybe that'll make a difference in her planning, even if she does scold you for getting emotional about it."

"Yeah, maybe." Adrien glanced towards the door, honestly surprised that Nathalie hadn't followed him up yet, then turned back to his computer. "If only I could get so lucky."

  Downstairs, Nathalie slowly pushed herself to her feet, each movement slow and deliberate as her brain muddled through the shock.

She had thought that they had been careful. They had figured that having Adrien out of the house would lessen his chances of stumbling on their secret. Making Mr. Agreste largely unreachable and his schedule unpredictable- and pretending that he had gone out of the country when he really hadn't- was supposed to ensure that no one found out about their secret identities unless they told someone. And yet, despite how careful they had been, despite all of their precautions...

There was no other way to interpret Adrien's words, of that she was sure.

Nathalie knocked on Mr. Agreste's office door, then let herself in. Across the room, Mr. Agreste glanced up.

"Nathalie- what's wrong?"

"Sir, there's a problem," Nathalie told him, now starting to tremble. If Adrien knew- well, they hadn't explained everything to him. Adrien didn't know what was at stake, or how important it was for Hawkmoth to win. There was no way for them to know who else he had told, or if he had figured out what Hawkmoth's goal was. If he got mad at them and decided that revenge was more important than saving his mom... well, the police could be on them in under an hour. He hadn't yet, probably because he didn't want to lose his father, but- well, Adrien sounded close to cracking from the stress he was under. That put them in a much more dangerous position. "Your son- he- he's figured out your secret identity."

"He- what?"

  Adrien was officially baffled.

Overnight, Hawkmoth had practically done an about-face. There were no more akuma attacks after 8pm or before 9 in the morning, and they seemed to have dropped back to normal, pre-Heroes Day levels of akumatizations. The concentrated efforts to simply run the superheroes into the ground and defeat them that way just... stopped.

Not that Adrien didn't appreciate it! Because he totally, totally did. He had managed to get caught up on pretty much everything and do his first better-than-decent photoshoot in weeks. The timing was perfect, too, because he and Ladybug had both been pretty close to collapse. If they had continued at the same rate for even a week longer, Hawkmoth probably would have been able to get their Miraculous with no problem at all.

He and Mayura had no way of knowing that, of course. Ladybug and Chat Noir had always done their best to hide their exhaustion during akuma battles so that he wouldn't know when to press his advantage. So maybe Hawkmoth had expected them to cave sooner and had decided that their campaign of exhaustion wasn't going to work. Maybe the supervillain himself was getting really tired of staying up at night to try to find anyone who could possibly be akumatized. Maybe Hawkmoth was getting in just as much trouble at work as Adrien was getting in at school because of his absences and exhaustion.

Whatever it was, Adrien wasn't going to complain. He appreciated the break, and he was finally feeling properly human again. Ladybug clearly felt the same, if her more relaxed attitude during attacks was any indication.

Would it be better to have no akuma attacks and to have Hawkmoth (and Mayura) behind bars, or at least have a lead ? Of course- that was the ideal, after all, as long as he and Ladybug still hung out on a regular (and frequent) basis. But at least this was so much better than what it had been before.

He wasn't going to complain, but he was going to be a bit suspicious. Was Hawkmoth planning something? Ladybug certainly seemed to think so, and Chat Noir was inclined to agree. Both of them agreed to take the reprieve to relax a bit, but also not let themselves relax so much that they weren't catching up and getting ahead a bit with their civilian responsibilities. They didn't know when the other boot would drop, after all.

So when Nathalie approached Adrien after dinner with her tablet and a schedule balanced on top after several weeks of slow akuma attacks and also a relaxed civilian schedule, he was reading ahead for his Literature class, able to properly enjoy the story for the first time in a while. He glanced up as she approached, tucking a bookmark in to mark his spot before setting the book aside.

"Catching up on classes still?" Nathalie inquired, setting her tablet down. Adrien shook his head.

"Working ahead, actually," he told her, glancing at the schedule- or rather, schedules- that were balanced on top of her tablet. There seemed to be two versions, and Adrien had to wonder if she wanted to gauge how much he would be able to do- and do to a good quality- before settling on one or another. Or maybe she wanted his input, which- well, that would be new, and much appreciated. "So I can feel a little less stressed if things get busy again."

"Very good." Nathalie nodded in approval, then picked up the schedules. "So I wanted to talk to you about your schedule for the upcoming week. As requested, your father has stopped akumatizing people at night-"

Adrien's mind screeched to a dead halt, even as Nathalie kept talking, explaining the two versions of the schedule. He- he couldn't have heard that right, except- well, there was nothing else that she could have said, but why on earth would she just-just throw that out like it was the most normal thing in the world? "I- I'm sorry, what?"

Nathalie paused, her brow furrowing briefly, and then something that looked rather like worry spread across her face. "Uh..."

Adrien shot to his feet, even as he started feeling woozy from- from what, exactly, he couldn't put his finger on and there were more important things to think about anyway. "Did- you said that Father stopped akumatizing people at night! Father- he's Hawkmoth! Oh my god, I can't- I can't believe this-" The walls were closing in on him. He'd been fighting his father this whole time. His father had been the one behind the mask when Hawkmoth came out and tried to hurt them. Which meant- oh god. Which meant that Nathalie was Mayura.

He wasn't safe in this house.

"Ah, I mean, uh..." Nathalie stammered all of a sudden, clearly about to backpedal, but her expression- well, it gave away that yes, he had totally heard correctly the first time. "That is..."

Adrien turned and bolted.

  Nathalie felt like she was about to faint as she approached Gabriel's office on unsteady legs. Out of all the mistakes that she had ever made during her career- during her entire life, really- none were anywhere near as serious as the one that she had just made. Part of her wondered if it might be smarter to simply turn around and flee the city- or maybe even the country- instead of facing up to her mistakes.

But she had to warn Gabriel. It- it was the responsible thing to do. They had held off on sharing more information with Adrien before just because they had figured that he wasn't going to run off and tell anyone- if he hadn't before, then surely he had figured out why his father was Hawkmoth and had at least partially approved- and because he was busy and Gabriel hadn't wanted to distract Adrien while he was catching up on schoolwork and redoing much-needed modelling shoots last-minute. Now, though?

Adrien hadn't reacted to the news well, though maybe that was to be expected considering the way that Nathalie had shared it, and she hadn't been able to pull herself together in time to convince Adrien that what his father was doing was actually good. That meant that their entire plan was in danger, and it would take both her and Gabriel to get any decent damage control done.

If it wasn't already too late, that was. She- well, she had been so in shock over the realization that Adrien hadn't known that several minutes at least had passed by before she had been able to move.

Gabriel glanced up as she entered, and immediately straightened with a frown. "Nathalie? Are you feeling unwell? You look like you're about to collapse."

Nathalie nodded, then shook her head, forcing herself over to Gabriel. He was going to be furious, she just knew it, but there was no getting around it. "Sir, it appears that, ah." She paused, struggling with what she should say. "It appears that there has been a, ah, misunderstanding."

Gabriel frowned at once. "A misunderstanding about what? I thought you were just going to talk to Adrien about his schedule, surely whatever misunderstanding you had can't have been... that..." He trailed off, following her gaze towards his painting of Emilie, and then his face turned white. "No. Not that. There can't- no. Nathalie, tell me that there wasn't a misunderstanding about the Hawkmoth situation! That- it's impossible!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Nathalie managed, her voice dropping to a whisper. An angry Gabriel was like a thundercloud, ready to lash out at anyone and anything at any moment. "I didn't think that there was any other way to interpret what Adrien said before, but he- he must have been being sarcastic or something, I don't know-"

"We have to fix this," Gabriel announced, pushing himself to his feet and reaching for his brooch, rubbing it almost absentmindedly as he headed across the room. "We've come so far, there's no way that we can let our whole plan fail over a misunderstanding!"

Nathalie nodded at once, pushing herself to her feet. She followed Gabriel towards the door, eager to help rectify her mistake. Before they could get far, though, the ground shook violently under their feet, hard enough to fling them off of their feet. Gabriel and Nathalie both flailed, trying to grab for anything and everything that might help them get their balance back.

And then a bright light flashed across the room, and then- well, then there was nothing.

  It didn't take Ladybug and Chat Noir long to recover the Butterfly and Peacock from the rubble of the Agreste Mansion, along with the rest of the Miraculous-related things that Mr. Agreste had accumulated. Nooroo was quite a bit of help in finding things, though- well, the fact that the mansion was a tiny bit destroyed from a combination of Cataclysm and the Dragon's lightning made navigating their way around a tiny bit difficult, at least until Ladybug cast her Cure and put everything back together again.

"The lightning probably would have been sufficient," Nooroo commented dryly as Ladybug tucked yet another scroll away in the pocket dimension of her yo-yo, followed by the tablet that she recognized as Master Fu's. "It would have knocked them out, and you would have been able to accomplish everything just the same."

"And deny Chat Noir the opportunity to be dramatic?" Ladybug asked in amusement. "Never."

"And they might have dodged the lightning if they hadn't already been knocked off-balance by Cataclysm!" Longg chirped from their spot on Ladybug's shoulder, where they were chomping down on a biscuit to recharge. "It was quite the nice combination. And it got the police's attention, didn't it?"

They all glanced out the window, where red and blue lights still flashed outside of the gates. The two superheroes had carried the knocked-out former supervillains out to the waiting ambulances and police cars earlier, just to get them out of the way, and Mr. Agreste and Nathalie had been hauled away at once. The superheroes had given enough of a statement that the duo would be able to be held overnight, but they would probably have to go in to the station in the morning and talk to the police a bit more in order for them to file charges. Now, only a lone car remained, keeping the gawkers away while the superheroes finished up.

"It felt pretty satisfying," Chat Noir admitted. He had recharged once the mansion's walls went back up and he could run to his room to grab some cheese out of his mini-fridge. He shifted closer to Ladybug. "Though I didn't exactly intend to get my room, too. It just got a little out of control."

"Which is understandable. And it got fixed anyway." Ladybug did one last glance around the room, then snapped her yo-yo shut. "I think that's everything. And it's not like we're not going to be able to come back."

Chat Noir let out a shaky breath. "Right. Well, uh..." He floundered for a moment, glancing away and then back. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

Ladybug blinked at him, openly puzzled. "What are you talking about, Chat Noir? You're coming home with me, obviously. I'm not letting my kitty go home to an empty house."

"Really?"

  Ten minutes later, Marinette found herself trying to calm down an incredibly excited Adrien so that he wouldn't wake up her parents with his bouncing around her room. He was over the moon about learning Ladybug's identity, and even more so because she was Marinette instead of- well, literally anyone else.

Marinette was pretty sure that she was permanently red now thanks to all of Adrien's gushing after they landed in her room and she detransformed. It- well, it was a lot. And yes, it was really flattering that he had such a high opinion of her, but- but he was just so incredibly passionate about it and it was Adrien's sweetness and Chat Noir's enthusiasm and heart-on-his-sleeve-ness and it was just- it was a little overwhelming. Add in the fact that he had clearly picked up on her crush at some point, and- well, despite his father's and Nathalie's arrests, Adrien was clearly walking on air.

Eventually, though, Marinette managed to steer Adrien into bed. He passed out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow- too much excitement and ping-ponging emotions had clearly exhausted him- and Marinette was left lying next to him, petting Adrien's hair as he burrowed into her side and trying to process everything that had happened in the last couple of hours.

Maybe most of the time, misunderstandings- well, big misunderstandings, at least- weren't exactly a positive thing. But this time?

Well, this time, it probably couldn't have gone any better.

[pain-somnia]

ssm 2k20 day 10: colors of you and me Title: when eye see you Rating: T Disclaimer Day’s Notes: are y’all sick of soulmate AUs? ‘Cause i’m not! Here’s a soulmate au where everyone has heterochromia until they look their soulmate in the eye. And yes there is some inspiration from Jun’s Kitchen in this. It’s my favorite YouTube channel. Minor pairings: ItaKarin and SasoObi. I could have made this longer but I needed to make it shorter lol this fic was impossible to end it was actually meant to be shorter than it is

Sighing to himself, Sasuke brushes his hair out of his face, moving his bangs aside to reveal the vivid sea foam green eye.

Unlike his own dark gray eye, the green one has perfect vision. The optician marks the measurements for both eyes, noting that he needs a slightly stronger prescription for his own eye and a false lens for his partner eye. It was suggested that he switch to contacts so that he would wear one on the eye that truly belonged to him, but Sasuke hates putting things in his eyes.

Some thought he was lucky. The color of his soulmate’s eye is uncommon and that supposedly meant that it would be easier to find them. If he wants to, he can hire one of those people who made a living off of locating people with matching eye colors, but Sasuke doesn’t care about any of that.

Yeah, it was annoying that his eyes were unbalanced when it came to visual impairment and maybe it was ridiculous how often people told him his match had such a beautiful eye color, but Sasuke wants nothing to do with society’s obsession with soulmates.

Riding the train home, Sasuke hides his partner eye behind his bangs. The color catches attention wherever he goes and he’s tired of it. People always want to see the contrasting colors, how vivid it is against the dark colors of his eye and his hair.

It is said that green eyes are lucky, that when people meet their green eyed match that their union would be blessed with great happiness.

Sasuke doesn’t feel very lucky about it when he has relatives fussing over him about finding his match.

Walking into his family home, his nose is invaded with the stench of burnt vegetables. Slipping out of his shoes and tossing his bag next to the genkan, Sasuke opens up the screen door that opens up to the engawa and backyard.

“Karin?” He calls out towards the kitchen from across the informal sitting room. His phone chimes with the arrival of a message and he opens it, not bothering to walk into the other room to check on her. “What are you trying to do now?”

“It’s called cooking!” He heard her shout back from somewhere in the kitchen.

“Oh, gods…”

Karin is his older brother’s match. Originally just a classmate, then his friend—and now most likely his future sister-in-law—Uzumaki Karin is one of his closest friends and, truthfully, the worst cook in the world.

But that’s okay because Itachi is one of the best cooks in the world and spoils her by feeding her and her ridiculously large appetite.

When Sasuke first met Karin, he hadn’t thought anything about her russet color eye paired with a dark gray one or of it being just like the combination his brother had. It’s a common coloring pair, nothing special. But when Sasuke brought her home with two of their friends and she looked Itachi in the eye, they witnessed the moment Itachi’s partner eye shifted colors to match his actual eye and when Karin’s eyes shifted to a matching russet set.

And then they all winced when she shrieked in discomfort because Itachi's prescription for his lenses is a lot stronger than her own.

He really should have known that Karin is his brother’s match. Karin said that her mother told her she was born with her partner eye and Itachi’s had manifested when he was five years old. And then there were the anecdotes of her life that matched with some of the visions Itachi had shared with him.

The ability isn’t as common as their color pairing and it catches more attention, but it’s usually negligible as most sight sharers are not given any visions that help them locate their matches especially because it is an ability more common in children.

Karin’s line to him on their first day of high school was: “I swear I’ve seen you somewhere before. But like as a kid.”

They call it sight sharing and that strong emotions are required for it to work. That is why children who are more free with their emotions and are having new experiences to react towards are able to send visions to their matches. Due to their age, most children aren’t even aware that they are sight sharing.

Sasuke has seen his own glimpses. Blurry images impeded by tears and a long fringe of pink hair. A blonde girl with a blue-green eye and one inky black eye holding out a red hair ribbon. The largest bowl of anmitsu he has ever seen in his life. A harbor with boats rocking where they were docked, the water choppy and the sails flapping wildly in the middle of a storm.

He still gets glimpses, even this late in his teens, and he’s not sure how he feels about having a match that felt so strongly, whose emotions were as vivid as fireworks on a clear night sky.

“How did you convince my mother to let you cook in her kitchen? Alone?”

“She loves me.”

And it’s the truth. Uchiha Mikoto has always been a sucker for soulmates finding each other. She showers Karin with affection whenever possible and even Sasuke’s cousin’s match—a short redhead named Sasori with hazel eyes, a curious combination of brown and gray with flecks of gold and green—is subject to her doting.

Sasuke couldn’t describe what Itachi and Karin have as love. There is a fondness his older brother has for Karin that cannot be hidden when he’s giving her soft smiles and treating her gently. It could be love with time, but Sasuke can’t help but wonder if Itachi would have opened up to a relationship with Karin even if she wasn’t his match, or was the opportunity to become more only presented because the universe had forced them into it.

He is told he is lucky because of the color of his match’s eye being uncommon and thus easier to find. He’s lucky because his soulmate is close to him in age, his partner eye not having formed until he was still a baby of only eight months. But Sasuke believes the truly lucky ones are his parents who share the same eye coloring and are in love. They could be soulmates or maybe not. But they love each other despite the odds and it’s not something the universe can say it had a hand in.

Universe or not, Sasuke wanted more of a choice.

.

.

Blinking her eyes, Sakura waits for her contact to settle in her partner eye. It was unfortunate that she had needed to adjust the prescription, but at least she saved money by only needing a contact for a single eye.

Grabbing her eyeliner, Sakura traces her lash line delicately, first over one green eye like seaglass and then over the eye with the color reminiscent of storm clouds. Her partner eye has always reminded her of those clouds, fat and heavy with rain, rolling over the sea and waiting to unleash over her harbor hometown.

It’s a beautiful eye, but Sakura had the misfortune of being born with her partner eye. It made it impossible to age her match. They could be someone only a bit older or a grown adult. With the state of their visual impairment, Sakura wonders if her soulmate is someone that is elderly.

It’s something that she perhaps will never know. She isn’t as lucky as her cousin who found his soulmate while he was bar hopping so Sakura’s decided that it’s probably best that she doesn’t search for her soulmate, not to put her hopes on someone she may never find.

It makes it easier to forget them considering she’s so sure she’s in love with her online friend.

It’s strange but she loves him, she really does. She’s never seen his face because they agreed that it would put a strain on their relationship if they knew about each other’s eyes. What had started as a simple exchange with a boy from Tokyo about a photo she had posted to her blog ended up becoming so much more.

His name is Sasuke but he went online by Taka. He wouldn’t give Sakura his last name and asked that she didn’t give him hers so that they wouldn’t be tempted to search for each other online. He had just turned eighteen in July and was planning on going to Handai for university not even an hour from Tsuji Culinary Institute.

Sasuke is going to be so close.

The two of them had been talking to each other ever since they had entered their respective high schools and after two and a half years of conversation they had decided that the time to meet in person was approaching. Sasuke was going to visit with his cousin and his cousin’s soulmate during winter vacation to look into apartments and the area that Sasuke would make his new home after he graduated high school. It was presumptuous that he would pass the entrance exam and be accepted but she knew how confident Sasuke is and about his test scores. Sakura is supposed to meet with him when he is able to shake off his cousin and his soulmate. They played games together and streamed shows and movies but mostly they streamed the same music and listened together sending messages or talking softly on the phone, but they didn’t call them dates so that their first official date would be one where they were face to face.

More often than not, Sakura falls asleep listening to Sasuke talk over the phone. She is an early riser and he is a night owl so she tends to drift off in the middle of their hours-long LINE calls. She enjoys listening to his voice, the deep timbre of it is soothing.

She can’t wait to hear it and see if his face matches the wonderful sound.

.

.

He found her through a video his brother had been watching to learn a new recipe.

Sasuke had found it unusual that Sakura━or “Cherry” as she went by online━didn’t show her face. It’s easier to find one’s soulmate if one’s eyes are exposed, but she never showed her face. Even in her social media accounts she never posts selfies. Sakura’s photos are always of locations or foods she made or of food spots she visited.

She had told him she didn’t want to be bombarded with messages from people claiming she was their match. She didn’t want strangers bothering her and raising her hopes up for nothing and that the only thing they cared about was her eyes.

Sasuke doesn’t care if it’s abnormal to feel affection for someone that he’s never seen. It started with a curiosity that led him to looking through her blog and then he saw it. He saw a photo of the sea before a storm hit over a harbor and it looked just like the glimpse he received a few years ago.

All he wanted to know was where the photo was taken.

And now he’s in a relationship with the person that took the photo.

Sasuke knows the odds of finding his soulmate are low and there’s no guarantee that he would even like them. His cousin Obito had gotten lucky and even Itachi who is fond of Karin despite their differences and Karin’s comparatively high energy levels. It is a gamble and he doesn’t care for the odds. He would rather grow to love a stranger that isn’t his match and be like his great-uncle Madara who never found his soulmate and when his soulmate died, his partner eye turned milky white and blind.

It is much preferable to be blind in one eye and happy than perpetually alone simply because he couldn’t be with his soulmate.

“Here you go.” His older brother interrupts his and Karin’s study session and offers her a small tray with a glass bowl that was leaking a cool mist. Karin squeals and takes out her phone, taking a video as she reveals the smaller bowl inside with a chocolate lid that is cutely decorated with flowers made with icing and berries.

“Did...did you really use dry ice for this?” Sasuke looks on as Karin takes a bunch of photos before digging into her sweet treat.

Itachi shrugs and hands Karin a spoon. “Cherry posted a video about a blueberry cheesecake made with homemade yogurt, so I had to recreate it.”

“I’ll tag her on Instagram when I post these photos.” Karin shoves her books away and pulls the cheesecake closer so that she could dig in. “Ohmygawd this is so good.”

Of course it is. Sasuke looks over Karin’s study materials for Todai. His parents want him to go there, but he made his decision to be closer to Sakura.

.

.

She wonders how he would feel about her accent. The Kansai dialect would be something Sasuke has to get used to if he is going to live in the area. Her cousin is still thrown off at times when he hears the dialect.

Sakura has invited him out to eat some tecchiri at Zubora-ya in Dōtonbori because it’s the best place for fugu despite it being almost an hour by train from Handai. Luckily his cousin has a car and is able to drive them around just so she doesn’t cause Sasuke any trouble before he even gets to meet her.

Snow is swirling around her, flurries landing in her long lashes as she waits under the giant blowfish lantern. She’s never been good with the cold but it’s keeping her grounded as her stomach tumbles with anxiety.

Would Sasuke see her and decide he would prefer to wait for his soulmate?

Will three years of conversations come to a halt when they sit across from each other and are unable to carry on the conversation in person?

Sakura is tempted to walk over to the Lawson and grab something hot to drink and use the walk to calm her nerves. She’s just about to make a break for it when she spots a trio heading towards her. The person standing in the middle is roughly the same height as her with rusty red hair—the red Sasuke had told her to expect from his cousin’s soulmate. Red that belongs to—Sasori?

What was he doing here? Her cousin hadn’t mentioned anything about traveling to Osaka. And now he was walking towards her with his boyfriend, Obito, and a pretty boy she has never seen before.

For a moment Sakura can’t breathe properly and it takes her a few seconds to realize it’s because her inhales and exhales are at too fast of a rhythm for her to actually be intaking oxygen. Hyperventilating will have her passing out right when she’s supposed to meet Sasuke—right when he’s potentially in front of her.

Her hair is pink, a soft shade he couldn’t miss, so when the attractive boy makes his way to stand in front of her, Sakura knows that it’s Sasuke.

Inky black hair frames his angular face. Why hadn’t he warned her that he was pretty? Sakura’s eyes rove his face, taking note of the curve of his lips, the point of his nose, and his high cheekbones that are kissed by eyelashes just as inky black as his hair when he blinks.

Those eyelashes frame one visible eye—the other hidden by hair—and what a beautiful eye it is. Shielded by a pair of glasses, his eye is gray and stormy and oh so familiar.

And the moment she looks at it directly, her left eye stings in discomfort.

.

.

“Shit!”

Sasuke’s eyes widen as the pink haired girl clutches her left eye. She’s cursing as she messes with her eye and throws something on the ground.

A contact.

His feet had moved and his hands had raised to steady her and help in any way he could before he had even processed what just happened.

“Ow…” She grumbles as Sasuke examines her red rimmed eye. His hands freeze from where he’s cupping her face as he looks into a matching pair of seafoam green eyes.

It’s at that moment that he realizes his left eye’s vision is blurry behind its false lens.

“Are you Sasuke-kun?” Sakura asks—because of course she’s Sakura, how many pink haired girls would be waiting under a giant blowfish and asking for someone with his old fashioned name?

“Sakura?”

“Well, that’s a little forward,” Sasori scolds him, attempting to shove him out of the way. “No honorific? Already getting handsy? Tsk, tsk.”

“Sasori-niisan?” Sakura’s attention is stolen for a moment and she turns her focus on Obito’s boyfriend despite the fact that Sasuke is holding her face in his hands. “What are you doing here?”

“Fugu. Why else?” Sasori snaps his fingers and gestures to Obito who is pulling eye drops from his messenger bag and ready to play nurse.

“What were the fucking odds?” Sasuke mutters under his breath, taking the saline solution from his cousin and dropping it into Sakura’s irritated eye. Fortunately, all of her poking hadn’t done much damage.

She’s crying, but with how she’s smiling it can’t be anything bad and he always knew his soulmate was an emotional person. Sakura’s brushing his hair away from his left eye and letting out a watery giggle at what she sees before covering her mouth with her hands to suppress the sob that leaked between her laughter.

“You have no idea how happy I am that it’s you.” Sakura looks up at him in awe but then her eyebrows draw down into a frown. She was going to make him dizzy with how quickly she flickered through emotions. “Gosh you’re tall.”

“Good thing your hair’s pink.” Sasuke cards his fingers through her hair and teases her. “With your height, I might have never found you.”

Sakura pouts, narrowing pretty green eyes at him, and it makes the moment all the sweeter. A small part of him cheers at how lucky he got that Sakura ended up being so cute but mostly he’s still in shock at the discovery that his online girlfriend ended up being his soulmate. He had given up on the idea of finding his soulmate just for them to be the person he chose over the idea of the universe’s match for him.

But, with the coincidences, did the universe actually have a hand in their connection? His older brother was a fan of her cooking vlog and his cousin was paired up with hers.

And speaking of her cousin...

“Are we getting fugu or what?”

“We’re having a moment here.” Sasuke should have just asked his older brother to come with him on his apartment scouting trip. He had no one else but himself to blame for letting Obito and Sasori come along. He should have known better.

“Have your moment inside.” Sasori pushes at the back of Sasuke’s knee with his heeled boot. “It’s cold and I want the fugu I was promised.”

“Wait a minute…” Sakura’s voice is low, and she eyes her cousin suspiciously. “You knew Sasuke-kun this whole time, Sasori-nii?”

Straightening up, Sasuke turns to glare at Sasori as well. He has been dating Sasuke’s cousin for five years and not once had he mentioned having a cousin with the exact eye pairing that Sasuke has—had.

A rare color pairing that’s supposed to be lucky. Sneaking a glance at Sakura with her green eyes and with the knowledge that she’s the person he’s been growing attached to all of these years, Sasuke’s ready to admit—if only a little—that maybe he is lucky.

No one let his family know that he had that thought.

“You guys didn’t want to know,” Sasori answers, opening up the door to the restaurant. “So, fugu?”

Sasuke and Sakura exchange a look and she smiles up at him encouragingly. Sasuke didn’t come here looking for his soulmate. He came to meet Sakura—just Sakura. He now had a matching set of eyes but it didn’t change anything, not really.

He had already made his choice and it was just luck that the universe had dealt him a winning hand.

“Let’s go find out why this place is so great.”

“Well, have you ever had blowfish before?” Sakura asks, allowing him to guide her inside the restaurant with his hand on the small of her back.

“No, but I kind of like not being potentially poisoned.”

“It makes me feel alive,” Sasori interjects, raising four fingers at a server to signal how many are in their party.

“You’re going to have to be more adventurous.” Sakura flashes a mischievous smile in his direction as they follow their cousins to a table. “I’m going to drag you everywhere and make you try lots of different food.”

“Tough talk from someone that can’t eat spicy food.”

Sakura splutters, cheeks burning red. She hides behind a menu and mutters something about “an abnormal dislike of sweets.”

He’s only seen her face for less than twenty minutes, but he’s decided that he likes how easily her feelings come across it, especially when she flushes from embarrassment.

“It will be nice to video call you from now on,” he casually mentions from over his own menu, watching from his peripheral as her fingers tighten around her menu.

“Your weird flirting is going to spoil the taste of the fugu.” Sasori glares at him over his tea, taking a prim sip.

“You don’t even have taste buds,” Sasuke mutters, wishing even more now that he hadn’t asked Obito to drop him off. “You shouldn’t even have any fugu rights. How could you not know that we were meeting your cousin?”

“Sakura is a common name, don’t try to come for me. I still haven’t given my blessing to this union.”

Sakura snorts from behind her menu and says, “Okay, sure dad.”

She sets her menu down and smiles so sweetly that Sasuke’s tempted to stand up and make a run for it with her, just completely abandon their cousins. Sasori is distracted by the promise of raw blowfish and he’s sure whatever punishment Sasori could come up with would be worth it.

“Video calls would be nice,” Sakura offers, ignoring Sasori’s forced gagging sounds. “But maybe tomorrow we could go out and fix your glasses situation?”

“Yeah,” Sasuke clears his throat and adjusts the pair he’s wearing with only one true lens, “that would be helpful.”

“Then it’s a date!” She chirps. Her eyes gleam when she’s happy and green really is such a nice color, especially on her and not in his reflection. 

“Awwww,” Obito coos, pinching Sasuke’s cheek. “You two are adorable.”

“We’re leaving Obito and Sasori behind tomorrow,” Sasuke snaps, slapping Obito’s hand away.

“I don’t care,” Sasori waves a hand dismissively at him, “just let me eat my fugu and you can keep my cousin for the day. Just return her how you leave with her.”

“You’re incorrigible, Sasori-nii.” Sakura rolls her eyes but she smiles fondly at her older cousin as he steals slices of blowfish from Obito’s artfully decorated plate.

Sakura chats cheerfully with his cousin and talks about how one of the things she wants to do in the future is learn how to prepare fugu properly. Sasuke’s seen the stuff she’s made for her vlog and he doesn’t doubt that one day she’ll be able to prepare it and even make the slices of blowfish into the flower shapes the restaurant forms for their plating.

It’s then that Sasuke is hit with the fact that in a few months that he won’t be watching her from a monitor, that he could be in the kitchen with her if he asked and she was okay with it. He’ll get to spend afternoons with her the same way Karin and Itachi do and go on day trips like Obito and Sasori.

And he made that happen. It was his decision to message her. It was his decision to continue talking to her and get to know her.

Maybe the universe had a hand with all of the coincidences, but it was Sasuke that Sakura wanted. Not his eye but him.

“What’s up?” Sakura asks him as she polishes off the last bit of her serving of tecchiri.

Just thinking about how the universe works.

“Were you ever told that green eyes were lucky?”

Sakura’s eyes widen at the question. Her lips part in shock but she quickly closes them when Sasori snorts behind his napkin. Leave it to Sasori to find a way to snort primly. Even his chuckling has an air of superiority to it. It’s no wonder he didn’t link him and Sakura as familial relations.

Sakura elbows her cousin in the arm to silence him and he throws a glare in her direction.

“Actually,” Sakura’s face flushes once again, “in my family the superstition is that gray eyes are the lucky ones.”

Heat travels up Sasuke’s neck, and the pleasant feeling in his chest can’t be stifled even with Sasori’s smug expression—probably brought on by the fact that his eyes have splashes of gray in them.

“But if it’s green in your family, I guess that means we’re doubly lucky, huh?”

Sakura’s eyes are bright and with the way they sparkle when she’s feeling so fantastically happy, he can’t help but think once again that her left eye was definitely wasted on him.

Sasuke smiles fondly at her cheerful expression and has to suppress the desire to roll his eyes at his own thoughts when he remembers his mother’s stories about green eyes bringing joy.

“Guess that makes us triply happy then, Obito,” Sasori interjects yet again. “I’ve got green and gray in my eyes and you have gray eyes.”

“I guess we are,” Obito cheers, tapping his pint of beer against Sasori’s glass.

“We were having a moment here,” Sasuke grumbles over his cousin’s chortles.

He’s definitely ditching them tomorrow.

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Smoke and Mirrors Chapter One

Smoke and Mirrors: a magician’s trick, the art of making an entity appear to be floating through the use of smoke and mirrors. In figurative speech, something which, once examined, is proven to be an illusion. Like the moon reflected on water, or a flower reflected in a mirror. Unable to be touched.

Description: Listless idol Jeon Jungkook has lost his creative spark. Something just feels...missing. And between jet-setting across the world and constantly evading public scandals, Jungkook’s life up until now has felt like a movie. One thing Jungkook can count on, however, is video games. Y/N has been gaming forever. And when a new VR game called Arcana is released, both Y/N and Jungkook are all over it. But what will become of Jungkook’s online persona when life forces the two to work together? And will Jungkook manage to keep his identity a secret from one of his closest Internet friends?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (gender unspecified) Reader

Word Count: 12.1k

Tags: Solo Idol!Jungkook, Gamer!Jungkook, Makeup Artist!Reader, Manager!Seokjin, Florist!Hoseok

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Haha....ha....ha....um, well this is awkward isn’t it? I haven’t been active on here in a long, long time! But God does it feel nice to return. In the time I’ve been away, I’ve been working on a lot of things at once. Too many chefs in the kitchen, except the chefs are projects/responsibilities and the kitchen is me and is also on fire. I think right now more than ever, I’ve leaned into writing to help me feel a bit better about the world. So if this story can make you happy that’s honestly all I can ask for. I don’t think I’ll be keeping a posting schedule, as that feels like too much for me right now, but maybe in the future I’ll come up with a schedule that doesn’t feel overwhelming! Regardless, I’ve missed you guys and I’ve really missed posting my writing here. I hope you all still remember me! And I hope you enjoy this story. Really. As always, please feel free to send me any thoughts or concerns! Questions, critique, comments: send them all my way! I can’t wait to get chatting with you all again.

And I’m on Twitter! I’ll put the link here if you want to follow. I’m very active over there!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

“On God, if you don’t start healing me-!”

“I’m working on it! Christ.”

“Well work harder, damn. Tiki’s about to go down,” you say, gritting your teeth as you whip around toward the dragon staring your party down.

It circles you, never once looking away, several stories tall with glowing yellow eyes that seem to leave trails behind in the darkness of the cavern. You feel at once impossibly small and impossibly fragile in front of such a behemoth, all purple scales and saliva stringing across pointed fangs.

“Just focus on offense for now,” says Sapphire, grunting as he lunges sword-first toward the dragon.

Your brows shoot sky high as Sapphire, a DPS like you, runs straight for the enemy. His silver knight’s armor clanks in his wake. “Wait!” you call, but it’s too late. Your teammate has his sword plunging in and slicing out and slashing wild before you can even prep your next spell. “Jesus, Saph!”

You hear his laughter like bells echo through the cavern, seeming to bounce against the domed ceiling and drip like water from the clinging stalactites. “Tiki! Distract!” you call as the dragon whips wildly: first toward Sapphire and then toward you. “Shit,” you whisper, examining your mana with a hiss. “I need a second to recover!”

Tiki, a massive green orc and also your team’s tank, rushes in with his battle axe. Upon the first hit, the dragon writhes in pain and turns toward Tiki, ire in its yellow eyes. Tiki says nothing, just lets out a string of labored breaths as he swings his heavy weapon. Sapphire is quick to attack at the dragon’s heels. The dragon opens its mouth to spew flames across the charred cavern, aiming right for Tiki, but before it can Zero finally heals him with a flash of white light and a bolt straight to his broad green chest. You jump, turn to the side to see Zero is standing beside you about twenty feet from the dragon.

“Get spelling, Nova!” he shouts, long blonde hair flying in the breeze his spell created.

His voice, deep and gruff, doesn’t suit his pretty, dark-skinned elven body: particularly the well-rendered female…curvature. Every time he talks, it takes you off guard. You shake it off and nod once.

“Loli! Get punching!” you call to your resident monk as she idles near the dragon’s tail. She says nothing. You sigh, rest a hand on your hip. “Loli!”

She jumps to attention. “Sorry! My roommate needed me,” she says with a laugh, rubbing the back of her half-shaven head.

“Tell her to piss off!” calls Tiki as the dragon, halted by Zero’s healing spell, recovers and swings a mighty paw his way.

Your mana is finally restored and, shutting your eyes, you summon a bolt of ice. With a shout, you spin your staff over your head before slamming it down with a thunderous clap. Ice splinters dizzyingly fast from the ground beneath your staff and crawls like frost until it hits the dragon, stunning it still for a few seconds.

“Health’s low! Saph, go for the kill!” Lolita shouts as she lands a solid punch on the dragon’s belly that shatters your freezing spell.

Without waiting a second more, Sapphire shoves his sword into the dragon’s heaving chest as it writhes from pain. It looses a cry that sends vibrations through the cavern. A few rocks tumble from fissures in the cave walls, and a stalactite cracks and careens toward the ground where it explodes into shards.

And, with that, the massive beast falls to its stomach, its head clunking to the ground in front of Tiki’s feet. The ensuing silence rings in your ears as the five of you stand completely still, waiting. It wouldn’t be the first time an enemy has fallen only to reveal a dormant ability that results in a second battle. None of you says a thing until the massive body before you begins to dissolve into pixels, leaving you with only the skull as a prize and a bag of loot in place of a carcass.

Lolita is the first to break the silence with a loud hoot. “Wooh! Hell yeah!” she shouts, clapping her hands.

You chuckle, lean on your staff. “Loli, you can only celebrate halfway since you missed half the fight,” you tease with a fond sigh.

She rushes toward you, wipes off her blue robes and crosses her arms. “My roommate came in!”

“And you didn’t warn us,” Zero chides as he smooths a few flyaway hairs, smiling. That model of his is just too pretty…

“I-,”

“Guys!” Sapphire shouts, jumping once as he examines the loot bag. “Look at this!”

You spin your staff in your hand and jog to stand beside the knight. His red eyes are bright, digging through the bag until he produces in one gloved hand—

“Is that a Philosopher’s Stone Fragment?” asks Tiki, similarly enraptured as he comes up beside Sapphire’s flank.

Sapphire nods. “Which means—,”

“Which means we’re one step closer,” you say, and you lock eager eyes with Sapphire who only nods. “Well shit!”

“Also means we were right to come this way,” Lolita says, holding up one finger as if correcting us. “And whose idea was that?”

Zero shoves Lolita by the head and turns back toward the loot bag. “Anything else?” he asks.

Sapphire digs around before shrugging. “A shield,” he says.

“Don’t need it,” Tiki says.

“And…mm…,” he pauses, brow furrowing as he pulls out a piece of paper. He purses his lips, runs a hand through his blue-black hair, cocks his head to the side. “Schematic?”

“For what?”

“Oh!” he exclaims, turning to you as he hands you the paper. You look it over and scoff. “Superior elemental staff.”

“Cuts down the mana I need to do spells,” you say, rolling your eyes as you pocket the paper. “Coulda used that today.”

Sapphire claps your shoulder. “Next time! We’ve still got three fragments to find before anyone else does.”

You nod. “Well, with that settled…,” you begin, itching to use the bathroom.

“Ah! You gotta leave?” asks Sapphire.

You nod. “Got work in the morning.”

“Eugh,” he sighs, shoulders slumping. “Me too.”

“Me three,” says Zero.

“Ah, the working world. We’re lucky, huh Tiki?” Lolita says with a wistful sigh as water from overhead drips onto her shoulder. She jumps a little, but settles easily. “Don’t you miss your reckless college days?”

You laugh. “I only graduated last year,” you say, turning toward Sapphire. “Speaking of which, Saph did you ever go to school?”

He stiffens. “Ah, uh…,” he begins, glancing at his feet. He’s quiet for a moment. “No. Not past high school,” he says with an almost sheepish nod.

You don’t say anything, but it seems like there’s something he’s keeping to himself, something he doesn’t want to share. Sapphire is always like that, but this feels a little different.

“Hm,” you say, sensing his discomfort. “Welp, I’m gonna peace out for the night. Message me when you guys wanna go for the next fragment. I’ll keep researching where it might be.”

“Mm, sounds good,” says Tiki. “I’m starving. Loli, wanna get some food?”

Lolita glances at Tiki out the corner of her eye. “You mean, like, real food?”

Tiki sighs. “Obviously real food. I don’t wanna waste money on game food.”

She laughs and nods. “Alright. I’ll meet you at your dorm.”

“Mm.”

Without another word, both Tiki and Lolita blink out, leaving nothing behind them. You turn toward Zero and pat his back. “Sorry for getting on your case tonight,” you say. “I was worried Tiki would fall and then…well, you get it.”

Zero shrugs, examining one of his perfect fingernails. “No, I wasn’t on my game tonight. I’ll be better next time.”

“Me too,” you say, waving as Zero too blinks out.

You turn toward Sapphire and offer a smile. “Sorry for asking about college,” you say.

He stiffens, brows raised. “Hm? Oh, no it’s fine,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile. “It’s just, uh…well, you know my dad always wanted me to go to college so…”

You wave your hands, shake your head. “Forget it, alright? I won’t bring it up unless you do first.” You smirk. “You played tank tonight, didn’t you?”

He laughs. “Yeah, a little.”

“Don’t do that shit,” you say, but you can’t help your smile. “What would we do if we lost you in the middle of a battle?”

You can see his posture go a little straight. He turns to you, blinking. “You…?” he begins, but cuts himself off with a laugh. “Ah, mm, well…I’d better get going.”

“Mhm. Message me if you get any new info about fragment locations,” you say, then chuckle. “Or if you just wanna talk about The Bachelor or something.”

He laughs with you. “I don’t watch The Bachelor!”

“Well, whatever you watch!” you call as you jog a few paces away. You offer a wave which Sapphire mimics before pressing the disconnect button on your headset.

You shake your head, disoriented as you return to your bedroom, your window sitting before you, the outskirts of Bucheon spreading out in spindly arms around you. Your head throbs a little and you wince, removing your sensor gloves and setting them gently on the light wood table beside your computer. You guide one of the philodendron leaves to the side so it won’t tickle the gloves. You shuck off the sensor jacket too and leave it draped over the back of your gaming chair. Slowly, you return your attention to the window, smiling down at the sea of lights undulating in the dark. It’s a nice evening, you notice as you press the pads of your fingers to the cool glass.

Your phone, until then sitting dormant on the tabletop beside your potted jade plant, pings to life with a notification. Your eyes widen and you grab for it, stretching your torso as you do to work out your aching muscles. Tonight’s session with the group had gone long, and the fatigue on your back is severe from slumping in that gaming chair like a shrimp. And even though you have to move your upper body to activate the full range of Arcana’s sensor controls, your ass feels like you’ve just sat through back-to-back, four-hour lectures.

BeastSlayers™

SacredSapphire: miss u guys already :-(

You laugh, watch as Tiki begins writing a message in response.

TikiTikiRoom: ..

TikiTikiRoom: dont be soft bitch ill kill you

You pad down the hallway, watching your phone as you stumble through the dark apartment with one hand on the wall bracing you. You connect your phone to the TV speakers and play some lofi something or other, bop your head as you enter the kitchen and flip on a flickering yellow light. You rifle through the freezer, produce a cherry red popsicle. You press it to your lips and smile.

Lolovely: I haven’t even made it to Tik’s dorm wtf why are you being sappy already?

CodenameZer0: Looool, Saph? More like SAP.

TikiTikiRoom: press f

SuperNova: I think it’s sweet :’)

SuperNova: Wanna voice chat?

SacredSapphire: nonono

SacredSapphire: someone’s coming over lol

Lolovely: ominous…

You chuckle and take a bite of your popsicle. But as you do, the thing turns to mush and slides from the stick like slop, staining your white shirt and your lips red. “Shit!” you exclaim, then rush to the freezer.

With a sigh, you notice that a layer of ice is frosted over the back. And as you jam your hand in, you can feel that the temperature is higher than it should be. Hence, melty popsicle. You groan, take to it with a knife from the creaky drawer. You chip away at the ice and keep chipping until the back of the freezer is visible once more.

“Cheap piece of crap,” you mumble, kicking the fridge with your socked toe.

You return to the group chat to a slew of messages.

TikiTikiRoom: WAIT SAPH DO YOU HAVE A BOY/GIRL/THEYFRIEND??

TikiTikiRoom: IM GONNA HAVE AN ANEURISM

Lolovely: !!!!!!!!!

Lolovely: ??????

CodenameZer0: Hohohoh

CodenameZer0: Could it be?

SacredSapphire: NO!!

SacredSapphire: i don’t have a boy/girl/theyfriend! i’m too busy, rip

SacredSapphire: it’s just someone

SacredSapphire: don’t worry about it lol

Lolovely: sus…

Lolovely: nova’s better at this stuff

Lolovely: interrogation

Lolovely: think if i scream hard enough nova will come back?

Lolovely: NOVAAAAAA

You laugh and take a few photos. First of the old laminate floor which now resembles a crime scene in cherry popsicle red. Next of your shirt, now streaked in slush. Third, of your face, lips stained like you’ve smeared lip tint on your skin. You pull a pout before snapping the shot, then send all three together.

SuperNova: I crave death.

SuperNova: Stupid cheap fridge. Freezes over literally monthly.

SuperNova: I hate it here.

Lolovely: oooh that pic…

Lolovely: kinda….sexy hehe

SuperNova: ???

You set your phone aside and take to cleaning the floor. Last thing you need in this shithole is an ant infestation. Your music bumps gently through the sound bar beneath your TV. Sure, your apartment is decked out in tech, but the place itself?

You glance around the kitchen, a sanitary white with pretty fixtures, and suppress a sigh. It’s all for show anyway, this apartment. Like almost all the others in the area, it only looks nice. The reality, however…

Well, it’s melted popsicles and a shower that only runs lukewarm.

You check your phone with a hip against the countertop.

TikiTikiRoom: lewd lol

SuperNova: Shut up lmao nothing lewd about my shitty fridge.

SuperNova: Anyway, no I’m not gonna help you bully Saph.

SuperNova: Leave him alone or I’ll bite your ankles.

Lolovely: !!!

Lolovely: qu'est-ce que pas?

Lolovely: Nova…you’ve been defending Saph lately…

Lolovely: hold on i’m seeing something…

CodenameZer0: Don’t threaten my ankles.

SacredSapphire: nova baby ur the only loyal one here

Laughing, you type your response and make your way to the couch, falling flat on your stomach with an unpleasant thump.

Jeon Jungkook sits still, swiveling in his gaming chair with a soft smile as he watches the messages surge through the Discord group chat. Even though they’re busy teasing him, Jungkook can’t help the swell of fondness in his chest for his group mates. He leans back precariously far, the room nearly pitch black save for the shifting LEDs on his keyboard and the purple screensaver on his monitor.

SuperNova: It’s you and me, Saph.

SuperNova: Now come here and get your kith :3

Jungkook chokes a laugh with his hand, covering his mouth as his eyes squint. He tosses his head to the side, lets out a sigh. Quietly, he touches the photo you sent and lets it spread across his screen. He chuckles, examining your expression. Displeased, you eye the camera with furrowed brows and a pout. Briefly, Jungkook considers telling you it’s cute.

But he quickly clicks out of the photo, clears his throat, and catches up with the chat.

CodenameZer0: God, barf.

TikiTikiRoom: no kithes for zero

Lolovely: lolol i want a kith :(

SuperNova: Get in line then. Saph first.

SacredSapphire: i….*blushes*

SacredSapphire: N-N-Noona!

CodenameZer0: FUCKING BARF GOODBYE

Zero’s icon goes offline and Jungkook laughs in earnest now, his head lolling back. But before he can respond, the door to his studio opens with a robotic jingle. He jumps a little, turning his whole body toward the door. He nearly falls off the chair as he swivels.

In the doorway, Kim Seokjin shuffling across the threshold with two cups of coffee in a carrier. He looks a little disheveled, hair windswept and eyes scanning the room round and round. His gaze lingers here and there: resting on Jungkook’s wall of figurines, then on the futon still pulled down and covered in a messy heap of sheets, then on Jungkook’s face as he sits perfectly still, perfectly redhanded. Jungkook’s mouth agape, his fingers poised to type another message to the group chat, his computer monitor showing no lyrics, no notes, no Ableton. Just his screensaver.

Jungkook had planned to pull up his WIP song before Jin arrived, but the opportunity to do that has long since passed.

“Uh…,” Jungkook says, dumbfounded with round eyes glowing in the flashing keyboard lights. “Hey, Seokjin.”

Jin’s nostrils flare, his expression fiery. His attention flashes to the sensor gloves, the controllers sitting beneath them, the sensor jacket left astray on the ground, haphazard.

“Jeon Jungkook-,”

“I can explain!”

Seokjin glares at him, cocks one single brow. “Uh-huh?”

“I…,” Jungkook begins, flustered as he rises to his feet. He feels like he’s in school again. Seokjin’s gaze is disarming, intense, and his knuckles are white as he crushes the cardboard handle of the coffee carrier. “Uh…I was taking a small tiny little break.”

“A small,” Seokjin begins, placing the coffee on Jungkook’s work desk and resting his palm beside it, “tiny,” he continues, leveling his eyes with Jungkook’s, “little break?” Jin’s jaw is clenched.

Jungkook swallows hard. “Mhm…”

Jungkook expects Seokjin to bare his canines, to sneer at him, to scold him to kingdom come. But his manager simply eases into a sigh and leans away from Jungkook, rubbing his forehead. It’s clear the will to fight with Jungkook is slowly leaking, and before long Seokjin has fallen backwards onto the futon, crushing the blanket mountain in his descent.

“Listen,” Seokjin says, fatigue in his voice. “You’ve got…so much going on in the next few months, you know?”

“I know!” Jungkook says, quick to sit beside Seokjin, brows knitting. He feels like a kid again, and the disappointment laced through Jin’s words feels like his childhood. “Trust me, I’m not just…like, procrastinating. It’s not that.”

Jin eyes him sidelong. “Then what is it?”

Jungkook stiffens, his back straight as a board. He clears his throat, stares at the coffee. “Let me get those,” he says, rushing to his feet with a clumsy stumble and grabbing the coffees before returning to his spot beside Jin. He hands Jin a coffee, expectant and, begrudgingly, Seokjin takes it and sips.

“Don’t avoid the question,” he says, stern. “If anyone’ll understand, it’s gotta be me, right?”

Jungkook nods. “No, you’re right!”

“Like, we’ve gone through some hard shit and where have I been? Right behind you. From day one,” he says, leveling a serious look at Jungkook. The lighthearted mood has fled from the room through the cracks in the walls. “All I’m asking is for you to put in the effort.”

Jungkook sighs, rests his forearms on his knees, laces his fingers around the coffee cup. He stares at the space between his toes. “I just…,” he begins, voice choked with insecurity. He doesn’t want to say it. In fact, he’d rather do just about anything else.

Because, after all, saying it means it’s real.

And if it’s real, then it’s a real problem.

“Listen,” Jin begins, patting Jungkook’s back. “I get it. Making music…it can be really tiring, right?” he says. Jungkook can only shrug. “And sometimes you might not feel like you can do it. Like you don’t have the inspiration.”

“Mm…”

Seokjin gives another pat, stronger this time. “But that’s how life is, Jungkook. Work doesn’t just wait. You’re an adult now. You’ve got adult responsibilities. And when you make a passion into your full-time job, you kinda sacrifice the freedom. Deadlines are a thing. You can’t just…be flippant and casual about it.”

“I’m not being casual,” says Jungkook, and for the first time since Jin walked in his voice is strong and steady. He sits up straight and meets Jin’s imploring eyes.

Seokjin offers a small smile. “Good,” he says. “I trust you. And, you know, you’ve got a whole team of producers behind you who wanna see you succeed. All you’ve gotta do is call.”

“I know.”

“You’re not doing it alone, alright?” he asks, and Jungkook’s throat tightens a little. “That’s the good thing about making your passion into your full-time job, huh? Now…well, now it’s not just your responsibility. It’s divided.”

“Yeah.”

“Well…,” Seokjin says, patting his thighs as he pushes to his feet. “Just wanted to drop by and check on you.”

Jungkook offers a smile and nods, standing with his manager. “Yup.”

“You do remember what’s on deck for tomorrow, right?” asks Seokjin, cocking a brow as he takes another swig of coffee.

Jungkook nods again. “Screen test with the drama people.”

Jin smacks the side of Jungkook’s head and crosses his arms. “Not the drama people!” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s IJBC.”

“IJBC, right,” Jungkook says as he tenderly rubs the side of his head. “I remember.”

“Do you even know the name of the drama?” The younger boy falls silent, sheepish. “It’s called Give Up Generation, Jungkook.”

“I remember,” Jungkook says, pouting a little. “I just…forgot for a minute.”

Jin can’t help chuckling. “Get to bed early then so you don’t have dark circles,” Jin says with a smile, nodding as he turns toward the door. “Ah!” Seokjin pivots around, casting a disdainful look over Jungkook’s shoulder at the foldout futon. He pulls a scowl. “Sleep at home tonight, will you?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Alright. Stop nagging now,” he says, patting Jin’s back as he guides him out the door and into the hallway. “Bye, Jin!” he calls, not awaiting a response.

Slowly and with his head down, Jungkook shuffles back inside and slumps into his gaming chair, staring at his screensaver. He heaves a deep down sigh, lets it escape through his lips nearly pinched shut. Like exhaling cigarette smoke.

His phone pings to life with an incoming message.

SuperNova: Alright, I had your back before but I don’t cosign the Noona Agenda. I don’t even know if I am your noona.

Lolovely: seconded.

Lolovely: plus it’s icky.

TikiTikiRoom: boooooo

SuperNova: Wait, I think I just heard something in the hallway. Hold on.

Lolovely: SCARY!

TikiTikiRoom: burglars lol

Lolovely: ctrl z yourself, tiki

Lolovely: what if it is though…?

TikiTikiRoom: doubt it.

SuperNova: !!!

SuperNova: Lol it was a package…?

Lolovely: so late…?

SuperNova: Yeah…Lemme open it hold on.

The next message that comes through is a photo you send. Jungkook sits up straighter, opens it quick, and grins once he realizes what it is. A cardboard box, relatively big, sitting torn open on your kitchen floor, the photo features a look inside at several pretty makeup palettes and brushes. Jungkook doesn’t know the names of everything he sees, but he knows why it’s a big deal.

SacredSapphire: !! they finally sent it!!

SuperNova: They did!!

Lolovely: wait what? what did who send?

SuperNova: Lol, sorry. Uh I guess I only told Saph. But the brand I’ve been communicating with actually sent me a PR package! I’m gonna use it on my next job.

SuperNova: This shit’s super expensive too, so I’m lucky I’ve been in contact with a rep.

SuperNova: Gotta use the best to be the best!

TikiTikiRoom: i forgot ur a makeup artist lol

TikiTikiRoom: .-.

SuperNova: …

SuperNova: We’ve been group mates for like four months jfc

SuperNova: Anyway, yeah I’m glad. I guess they sent it to the wrong apartment? So my neighbor brought it over. He just got back from work.

Lolovely: neighbor?

Lolovely: cute neighbor?

SuperNova: He’s like seventy so no, not really my type.

SacredSapphire: nova, that’s super cool. i’m sure you’re gonna get big gigs soon.

SuperNova: Well, I can hope haha.

SuperNova: No, well…all I can do is work hard.

SuperNova: >:-)

All you can do is work hard, huh?

Jungkook tosses his phone to the side and rubs his hands up and down his face. He pinches his eyes shut and relaxes into the back of his chair, feeling the lull of sleepiness finally pulling at him.

And instead of going home like Jin asked, Jungkook simply pads over to the futon and, without moving the blankets, collapses atop them and falls asleep where he falls.

“I’m very sorry.”

“No…uh, no it’s fine.”

“Of course, you can keep the fees or whatever.”

“Oh, um, I…no, I’ll refund those too.”

“Really? I’ll give you a really good review!”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m really sorry.”

You sigh, plant a hand on your forehead and heave a sigh. Forcing a smile, you shake your head and press your phone into the crook of your shoulder, bending down to give your fiddle-leaf fig a hose down with your watering can.

“It’s fine. Things come up, you know?”

The girl on the other side of the phone, a young independent model going in for headshots, had called you an hour ago and had spoken at length about why she has to cancel her appointment with you today. How the photographer did this or that, how she actually watched a few tutorials online and figured she could do it herself, how she felt so so bad. You feel bad for her, of course. Kind of.

“Listen, I’ll give you a shoutout on my page, alright? I’ll tag you in my story,” she says.

You shake your head. “No, that’s fine. Just, um…you know, take care. Remember to clean your brushes.”

At this, she laughs. “Thanks for being so cool. I was actually super nervous to call and cancel. I’ve had to cancel a few things like this before, and I’ve had bad experiences,” she says. “Anyway, I’ll recommend you!”

“Alright.”

“Thanks!”

You nod as she hangs up the phone. Gently, you rise to your feet and set your watering can aside on the kitchen table. You set the phone beside it, pausing to glare at the black screen. Well…there goes your Sunday. You turn over your shoulder, pad to the window, crack it open a little. A bracing breeze whistles through, cooling your skin. You shut your eyes against it — only for a moment — before you turn on your heel, shove your feet into your sneakers sockless, swipe your phone and house keys, and shove out the door.

The florist’s is a healthy walk away, but the weather is nice enough and you’re too tired to brave the subway even if it’s only a few stops. You pass buildings and parks as the landscape becomes more and more urban and the high rises look like they could puncture the cloud layer. Before long, you’re standing in front of Happy Garden and, stepping through the sliding doors that are always left open and all-but nonfunctioning with the lush green plants climbing all around. You breathe a sigh of relief, pat your chest a little as the fresh, grassy scent settles your heart.

You aren’t there for more than half a minute before Hoseok stumbles out from the back room, grinning wide with a bouquet of hydrangeas in his hands, wrapped in butcher paper and twine. He curves around the stumbling greenery littering every surface and encroaching on every walkway and comes to a stop in front of you. He smiles.

“Hey,” you say before he gets the chance. You hold up one limp hand in a lazy wave.

He glances up and down, from your head to your toes, and sighs. Still holding the hydrangeas, he rests a hip on the checkout counter and cocks a brow.

“That is the opposite of encouraging,” you remark with a scowl.

He chuckles, pats your arm. “What’s up?” He jerks his head toward the front of the store where bouquets are displayed and you follow behind him as he leads you there. “Unsuccessful raid?”

“Contrary to popular belief, my life doesn’t revolve around video games, actually,” you say, but his laugh wipes the grimace from your face.

His fluffy hair bounces as he bends down to add the hydrangeas to the display and when he stands upright once more he crosses his arms. “You know what I mean. You’ve been in here a lot lately.”

“Pardon me for trying to raise plants,” you say with a pout.

Again, he laughs. “Jesus, stop trying to pick a fight!” he says. “You must be in a really bad mood if you’re here acting like this.”

“Well what’s that supposed to mean?” you begin, outrage all over your face, before locking eyes with Hoseok and composing yourself. You sigh, nod your head. “Yeah, no I’m being annoying.”

He smiles, heart-shaped, and the apples of his cheeks grow rounder. What a joyful guy, you think to yourself with a wistful sigh. “Tell me about it then.”

He pulls one of the empty display boxes over and offers you a seat as he begins tending to the plants all around. You oblige, settle in, and sigh again. “It’s just…everything kinda feels like a dead end right now.”

“Hm?” he asks over his shoulder, graceful hands guiding a waxy leaf back in place.

“Like with my work,” you say, then shake your head. “No, that’s not it. Not entirely.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…things are okay, you know? I’m getting PR gifts. I’m growing my following on Instagram. I’ve got consistent clients,” you say, nodding. “Like everything is fine, you know?”

“But something feels…missing maybe?” Hoseok offers as he moves to spraying the ferns with water.

You shake your head. “More than that, it’s…like, I feel like I’ve hit the ceiling of what I can do, you know? Like what if this is the best I’ll ever do?”

“Is that bad?” he asks.

You sigh. “Not bad, just…disappointing,” you say. “I wanna work on movies. Red carpets. Editorials.” You rest your chin in your hand and your elbow on your knee. You stare up at Hoseok, now trimming brown leaves from another plant across the store. “I don’t wanna be stuck doing birthday parties forever.”

Hoseok hums, turns toward you with his hands in his apron pocket. He offers a smile. “You sound like a brat.”

You stiffen, eyes wide. “I-,” you start, but there’s really not much you can say to retort. So, softly, you slump once more and shrug. “Yeah…”

“And if you keep that attitude, you’re never gonna be an editorial makeup artist. I can promise you that,” he says with a nod as he approaches once more and crouches before your knees, still smiling. “Everyone has to grow somehow, you know? Be grateful you’ve got opportunities to build your resume.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“What brought all of this on?”

Shrugging, you glance away toward the big croton plant in the corner, basking in morning sunlight, leaves all stiff and red and green. It’s a pretty plant. You tilt your head to the side, stare longer.

“That model bailed,” you say, but you’ve almost forgotten the self-pity of a moment ago. You stand to your feet and wander toward the plant, hitting halfway up your thigh. You crouch before it and look it over. “Hoseok, this is a really big croton.”

He laughs. “Mhm.”

“How much?”

“With the pot and given its height, it’s going for thirty-five-thousand won.”

You raise your brows. “I expected worse.”

“We’re fair here!” he protests, wagging his finger at you as he comes to stand beside you.

You smile softly, run a finger along the edge of a leaf. “It’s really pretty.”

“Suits you,” he says.

Without noticing, your anxiety begins to subside. “I think I’ll take it.”

“I’ll give you five-thousand off since you’re having a bad day,” he says, patting your back.

You turn to him with a smile. “Thanks.”

He chuckles. “I’ll loan you the dolly so you can get that thing home. Just bring it back before two.”

You stand up, stare down at the plant, nod once. “Mhm.”

Hoseok makes his way toward the cash register, punches in a few numbers. You linger a few steps behind, still staring at the croton. You get a good feeling off that one. Hoseok would tease you if you said as much, but you know when to listen to your intuition.

“Your big break will come Y/N,” Hoseok says as he rings you up, not once glancing to meet your eyes. “Just keep going.”

Jungkook sits with his head leaning against the rattling van window, eyes half-shut. Seoul blurs past him in shades of silvery grey and it’s all he can do to keep himself from falling asleep. For all his nagging, Seokjin had been right about one thing: Jungkook was sporting purplish bags beneath his eyes from a restless night’s sleep. Jin sits beside him now, frowning at his phone as he scrolls through Twitter. He’d given Jungkook a very stern talking to once he’d seen him, and really Jungkook deserved it. He knows that.

“Your voice is in good condition, right?” asks Jin.

Jungkook sits up straight, clears his throat. He shrugs. “Yeah. Why?”

Still stewing over his phone, Seokjin waves his hand without looking up. “Don’t worry about it.”

Jungkook sighs, leans back once more, gazes out the window once more. His phone buzzes once and he grabs it quickly, eager to distract himself.

BeastSlayers™

SuperNova: [image attached]

SuperNova: check him out OJO

Jungkook clicks the image you sent and chuckles as it loads up. The photo features nothing of you save for one hand, reaching out from behind the camera, throwing up a peace sign. Behind your hand, a houseplant. A pretty big one at that.

Jungkook smiles and drafts his reply, but the others are quicker.

CodenameZer0: Another plant? Lol isn’t your apartment overflowing with them by now?

SuperNova: Hush. Look at him.

LoLovely: cute!

LoLovely: does he have a name?

SuperNova: I don’t name my plants.

TikiTikiRoom: lol

TikiTikiRoom: because THAT would be weird

CodenameZer0: At least Nova can care care for a plant in the first place.

CodenameZer0: Let’s be honest here, Nova’s probably the only one among us who is even remotely responsible enough.

SacredSapphire: Nova it’s cute!

SacredSapphire: name him after me ;3

SuperNova: Sapphire?

SacredSapphire: hmmm say my name hehe

CodenameZer0: STOP IT FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST

CodenameZer0: IF THE FLIRTING DOESN’T STOP I’M GETTING YOU A TWO-WEEK BAN ON ARCANA

SacredSapphire: SHIT okay okay, let’s just take it easy

SacredSapphire: talk this out like adults…

SuperNova: Once I’ve finished setting up my new plant, I’m gonna play Animal Crossing. Anyone free to join? I’ve got oranges and mums.

SuperNova: Also had a meteor shower last night and have leftover star fragments first come first served.

The offer is tempting, to be sure. Not only would he receive star fragments, he’d be able to wander your island with the others. It might feel like you guys are side-by-side for real. Jungkook reaches into his backpack, slumped between his knees, and rifles around for his Switch. But as he produces the case, Seokjin shoots him the evil eye.

“If you’ve got time to play games, you’ve got time to review your lines,” he says, cocking a brow.

Jungkook sighs a little, slides the Switch back inside his bag. “I’ll look them over again.”

“Good.”

He takes one last look at his cell phone, checking the group chat with a frown that pinches the sides of his lips.

TikiTikiRoom: MEMEMEME

TikiTikiRoom: if any of you fakes get there before me ill go apeshit

TikiTikiRoom: i need so many

LoLovely: don’t need fragments, just wanna see ur cute face hehe

SuperNova: /blushes

SuperNova: I’ll open the gates once Sapphire Junior is nice and settled.

CodenameZer0: I’ll come too. I wanna shop.

SuperNova: Can’t you be cute like Lolita?

CodenameZer0: /gags

SuperNova: You coming, Saph? I’ll save a few fragments for you.

TikiTikiRoom: FAVORITISM

SuperNova: I am transparent about my favoritism toward Sapphire.

SuperNova: Because he is indeed my favorite.

LoLovely: *shocked pikachu face*

SacredSapphire: soz :-( i can’t

SacredSapphire: working

SuperNova: :-(

SuperNova: Next time we’ll all come to your island.

Jungkook tries not to feel that twinge of melancholy that tugs at his chest. That one he always gets when his friends go out for barbecue or grab drinks and hit the karaoke rooms. The one that feels like he’s really, deeply, fundamentally missing out on something important.

No, he doesn’t feel it. Instead, he focuses his attention on the printout Seokjin had given him three days ago. He scans the lines over and over, committing them to memory.

“No! That’s the thing, she didn’t even tell me!” says the girl below your brush.

You attempt to guide the highlighter across her cheekbones, but before you can make contact with her skin she’s jerked away once more, talking so animatedly that you can’t even tell if you’ve made her eyebrows even.

“That’s shitty,” says her friend beside her, likewise preoccupied as Jieun struggles to match her skintone.

The two of you lock eyes, both hovering over the two women as they chat over matching cups of coffee. Jieun puffs out her cheeks, raises her brows, and goes back to work, smoothing foundation on to the client’s chin with a brush.

You stand in a nice apartment — all marble floors and high ceilings and windowed walls overlooking Seoul. When you’d gotten the offer for a Seoul gig with Jieun, you’d been hesitant. The subway ride is long and you prefer to stay relatively local. But something made you agree. You don’t know exactly what. Call it divine intervention or epiphany or Jung Hoseok, but the words just keep going had been replaying in your brain since you last saw your friend. The pair of women — likely in their thirties — had booked both you and Jieun to do their makeup for a Sunday luncheon.

“And you know she’s looking out for him,” says Hyejin with a scoff. “As if I’m gonna bite the kid’s head off.”

“Maybe you will,” jokes the other woman, laughing just as Jieun reaches in to apply some liquid blush to her cheeks. “You know she’s got a soft spot for him.”

“Yeah well it’s a soft spot in all of our wallets if he doesn’t get his shit together,” says Hyejin, sighing. There is real woe in her expression and you can feel from the shift in atmosphere that things have turned serious. “He’s talented, you know? But…sometimes I think she goes too easy on him,” she continues, and this time her tone is decidedly softer, the movement of her face less pronounced.

You use the opportunity to work some powder beneath her eyes with a sponge. “Well, that’s motherhood for you,” says the other, flippant.

“Have you seen what the folks are saying on Twitter?” asks Hyejin as you apply shadow to her eyelids. “About his voice.”

“Hm?”

“Well some of his bigger hate communities have been compiling all the footage of his stage mistakes and they’re spreading it around,” Hyejin says with a huff. “Stupid, honestly. They’re making it out like he makes those mistakes all the time.”

“Netizens are like that, Hyejin,” says the other woman, now easing into her chair with her eyes shut as Jieun can finally get to work setting her base.

“Still…”

“Now you’re the one defending him,” she remarks with a laugh.

“It’s not that,” Hyejin says, scoffing. “It’s just…like if he doesn’t prove himself soon, all those commenters are gonna have more ammunition, you know? Which is annoying for all of us.”

“Sounds like you care a little bit.”

“I dont.”

“Hm.”

You focus on Hyejin’s full lashes, applying mascara with delicate, steady strokes. She hums a little as you use the pad of your fingertips to tame stubborn eyeshadow into blending more seamlessly. It seems, at least, that the conversation has died down. For that, you are very grateful.

“Say, do you two know anything about k-pop?” asks Jieun’s client.

The two of you lock eyes once more. It’s true that you are well-versed in pop culture: video games, TV shows, YouTube drama. But you’d be lying if you said you tune in to Inkigayo every week. And despite Jieun’s age and her trendy look, you know she’s not the type to keep updated on current idols. And you see in her brown eyes your own shock mirrored.

“Um…no, not particularly,” you answer for the both of you. Jieun releases a breath she’d been holding and smiles her thanks. “Do you two work in the field?”

Hyejin waves her hand and sighs. “Don’t go bothering them with those sorts of questions,” she says, and you notice for the first time the easy poshness that this woman has. Even with her head tilted back and her eyes shut tight, she seems sure of herself.

You envy her just a little for that.

“What? They’re young,” says the other woman, grinning with her eyes shut as Jieun works on her eyeliner. “You ever heard of RTE?”

“Hey now,” says Hyejin, warning in her voice.

“I’m just curious,” the woman continues with a sigh. “Look us up if you haven’t.” The woman chuckles, reaching out blind to smack Hyejin’s upper arm. “Hey, maybe even tweet something nice about our artists!”

“Knock it off and let them work,” Hyejin says, prying open one eye to meet yours. She offers a smile, apologetic, and sighs. “She’s just playing around. You can ignore her. It’s what I do.” She nods her head and leans it back once more.

Quietly, you get back to work. But you can’t help but feel like this woman’s incredible presence makes you paler somehow.

“What’s the point if it makes me unhappy?” Jungkook shouts, brows knitting, eyes growing watery. “The money, the lifestyle…what good is it?” his voice settles into a bare whisper, cracked.

“You only say that because you’re young! You’re stupid! You’re naive! You think things work out just because you want them bad enough?” says his costar, glancing down at the script every now and again as the two stand across from one another.

The set bustles on behind them, crew carrying tall lights and fixtures as they scuttle by. But Jungkook and his costar — a man named Namjoon acting as his older brother — continue their scene under the watchful eye of the cameras, trained right on them. Less of a screen test and more of a chemistry check between actors, Director Lim watches the monitor closely with his scrabbly chin in his palm.

“So what if I fail?” Jungkook asks with a quiver, referencing his script once to make sure he got the line right. “What’re you gonna do? Tattle on me to Dad?”

“I won’t have to,” Namjoon says, sighing as he grips the bridge of his nose. “He’s got his watchdogs trained right on you.”

Jungkook stiffens. “He’s been…following me?”

“I told you you’re too naive for the real world, Jiwon.”

Director Lim claps his hands and in an instant the tension and the scene are broken. Jungkook takes a respectful step back from his costar, and Namjoon offers him a bow of the head. Jungkook returns it, fighting off a nervous grin, and turns to the director as he circles around the equipment to stand in front of them. He’s a middle-aged man, handsome in a way with salt-and-pepper hair and eyes that seem to grab you and hold on like a snare. Jungkook is pinned in place like a bug in a shadowbox.

But Director Lim’s face splits in a crooked smile and Jungkook feels himself ease, exhaling long and slow. “Great job, boys!” he says, clapping both of their shoulders. “You were selling it well.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Jungkook replies too quick, like an eager child.

Director Lim chuckles, pats him again. “I’m praising you, kid. Don’t look so scared.”

He swallows hard. “I…I know. Um…thank you, Sir.”

Behind the trio, a group of stylists cart a rack of costumes quickly to the other side of the set, snagging the back of Jungkook’s shoe as they do. Jungkook stumbles to his knees, caught off guard, and the girls jerk to a stop as they catch themselves on the clothing rack. The two stare down at Jungkook, wide-eyed, and each of them covers their mouths. Immediately, they bow their heads in apology, both muttering sorry, so sorry almost too quietly to hear. Jungkook shakes his head and stands to his feet.

He too bows his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been standing there,” he says gently, hoping to assuage their concerns.

But the girls remain bowed, as if too afraid to even lift their heads. Jungkook, puzzled, leans down slightly to meet their eyes, but they glance away so quickly that he can’t even get a proper look at either of their faces.

“Um…it’s really not a problem,” he says, but before he can say more Director Lim approaches with a grim severity in his eyes. Jungkook, quick to stand up straight and face the director, stutters a little as he settles himself in front of the stylists. “It’s no big deal,” he says to Director Lim, but it’s like the man can’t even hear him.

“We were distracted, Sir,” says one of the girls, raising her head slightly to meet Director Lim’s gaze. “We are very, very sorry.”

“It really isn’t-,” Jungkook begins.

“You think it’s appropriate to crash into my actors? In the middle of a conversation about their performance?” Lim asks, but it’s clear the question isn’t meant to be answered. His tone has shifted into something cold. “You could have very well injured Jungkook.”

“I’m fine-,”

“But what if you weren’t?”

Jungkook shuts his mouth, staring helpless at the girls as they both stand up straight once more, eyes on the floor and hands knitted in front of them. He feels a hand on his back between his shoulder blades and jumps a little, turning quick to find Namjoon standing close.

“Don’t,” is all he says, voice terse and so quiet Jungkook almost doesn’t hear it, before dropping his hand and taking a half step back.

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, his hands work into balls as he stares. The lighting is low, dramatic as if a scene composed by Lim himself. The two girls lift only their eyes to gaze up at him.

“We’re very, very sorry, Sir,” says one of the stylists, guiding a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

“Mhm,” he says, looming. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again. Can’t afford to replace two stylists and a makeup artist in the same week.”

Jungkook simply stares, Namjoon’s warning freezing through him like ice. His limbs feel leaden. And as the two girls rush off, dragging their rack behind them, Jungkook focuses again on Director Lim.

He swivels back around to the two actors with a bright, fatherly smile. “Pardon me,” he says, waving his hand with a warm laugh. “Gotta keep the crew in check otherwise they’ll slack off.”

“Ha,” Jungkook puffs out in response, smiling in turn.

Namjoon hums a little. “Why don’t we try the reconciliation scene?”

“What in the world do you mean?” Hyejin yells into her phone just as she ushers you into her apartment. You eye her as her face grows red, her brows coming together. “He’s not quitting!”

Hyejin pauses to offer you an apologetic smile. She’s dressed in a modest pajama dress, padding barefoot along the cool marble floors. She leans against the arm of a nice black leather sofa, raises a hand to her flushed cheek, looks at her toes with vexation. Carefully, you set your makeup kit on her kitchen island, meeting her eyes with raised brows as if asking permission. She waves her hand, nods once before pinching the bridge of her nose between her index finger and her thumb.

“Listen, we knew Lim was difficult. But this is a huge opportunity for his career.” Hyejin rubs her kneecap, massaging. Her short hair falls along the line of her jaw as she dips her head in a deep sigh. “I know you know that, Seokjin. But you’re his manager. You’ve gotta keep convincing him.”

You begin unpacking your things, setting them neatly along the edge of the countertop, and try not to eavesdrop as Hyejin continues letting out chopped sighs. You can hear her fidget around the apartment behind you. She’d called you again, only a few days later, to secure you for another important event. A meeting, she’d said. You didn’t want to agree. Wanted to say you were too busy, that the commute was too much.

“Hey,” she whispers behind you. You jump, but turn nonetheless to find her cupping one hand over the phone’s receiver. Her eyes are severe, jaw clenched. “How long can you stay? This call might take a while.”

You raise your brows, think back over your schedule. “Hm…,” you respond, then shake your head. “I’m free all day. But…when’s your meeting?”

She stiffens, eyes flashing to the clock on the oven. “Shit,” she mutters. She approaches you with a frown. “I’ve only got two hours to get everything ready—Yes! Yes, I’m still here Seokjin. Stop panicking, for Christ’s sake—,” she says, her shoulders pinching. She glances at you again. “Um…”

You glance around the apartment. It’s spotless, as usual. But you spy in the corner beside a massive potted umbrella tree a taupe pantsuit, hanging beside a steamer. You’d have thought someone in her position would have sent it to the cleaners to be properly steamed, but perhaps it had slipped her mind. With the way she’s pacing around the apartment, still dressed in her pajamas, you wonder if perhaps she’s not as put together as you thought.

“I’ll steam that,” you say with a nod, pointing to the suit.

She stares at you, wide-eyed. “Oh, no. You don’t have to do something like that-,”

You shake your head. “No problem. What else do you need done here?” you ask, consulting your wristwatch with a hum. “If we keep it light, I can have your makeup done in forty-five minutes.”

She blinks at you. “Uh…well…,” she begins, then jumps a little as a voice in the phone shouts loud enough for you to hear. “No! No! Can you relax? I’ll talk you through it in just a minute! I’ve gotta sort some things out,” she shouts back at the phone. She turns her attention back to you with a sheepish smile. “Um, I need to steam the suit, wrap the fruits — they’re a gift for the client —, call the restaurant to confirm the reservation, shine my shoes, organize our documents chronologically and set them up in a binder,” she says.

You have to admit that the sheer volume of busywork has you taken aback. But you steel yourself with a bracing sigh, nod once, and offer her a smile. “Consider it taken care of,” you say.

“Ah! I…I really feel bad dumping all of this on you,” she says, crossing her arms with knit brows. “Normally I’d have my assistant doing all of this, but she’s ill.”

“Not a problem,” you say, smiling once more. “Just take care of your phone call and leave the rest to me! As long as we’ve got forty-five minutes for makeup, we’ll be fine.”

She lets out a sigh that seems to deflate her, shoulders slumping as if in profound relief. She nods once, smiling, and turns on her heel. “I’ll be in my office, alright? I promise I’ll be out in time!”

You give one wave as she rushes through a clouded glass door and shuts it behind her. You roll up the sleeves of your sweater and get to work on the suit.

Two hours later, and you’re accompanying Hyejin out into the apartment hallway. She pauses as the door clicks shut, waiting for it to give a chime, and turns to you with a sigh. She looks pretty. You had to rush a bit once she emerged from her office, and after taking care of the other chores you found it difficult to focus on her makeup, but you’re proud enough of your work given the circumstances. You’ve managed to match her eyeshadow to her pantsuit with gentle oranges and reds.

Since you were rushing to finish everything in time, the two of you hadn’t had a chance to exchange words. Perhaps you are curious — just a little — about the emergency she had to quell over the phone. Or maybe you just want a proper thank you. So you linger beside her in the well-lit hallway, you let your eyes wander to a potted fern in the corner by the elevator, wait for Hyejin to say something.

“I’m sorry,” she says, sighing. She glances at you through her lashes.

Your eyes go wide. “Hm? What for?”

“For having you do all of that,” she says, flitting one manicured hand. “I feel guilty.”

You shake your head. “No,” you say with a smile. “It’s no problem at all, honestly. You had me booked for an hour and a half anyway.”

She sighs again. “I really feel bad.”

“Don’t worry about it…,” you say, eyeing her. She crosses her arms, vexed, and purses her lips a little. “Um…was that call about an artist?” you ask.

She snaps back to herself, glancing at you. “Oh? Yes. That was about our biggest artist actually,” she says. “I think I’ve got it taken care of though, thanks to you.” She guides the two of you to the elevator. “I’ll pay you extra, alright?”

You laugh. “No, no. It’s fine! I’m just glad it all worked out.”

She stares at you, scanning you for a very long moment as the elevator rises to your floor. You try not to fidget, not to shrink under her scrutiny, but you feel yourself recoiling just a little. Her gaze is intense, knowing, as if she can see right through you and she’s looking for something. And as the elevator arrives, she gives a hum that sounds contented and you wonder if she’s found it.

Jungkook glances around the empty pavilion, scanning the cobbled streets for any sign of escape. From above, a dark mage is laying waste to the small shanty town. Not a single player has ventured out this way, all following a lead in the Elysian Forest to the west. But after you had mentioned a tip you got from researching at the Library of Arcana, you’d suggested visiting the seaside nook on the far south of the map. A legendary evil slumbers hidden, you’d recited over voice chat with a laugh, Sounds about right.

Only now, Jungkook’s alone. His hands are sweaty around the controllers in his palms and the realistic graphics are serving only to make him more nervous as the mage swings low near the central fountain and sets off a spray of fire just in front of him. Jungkook can almost feel the heat.

Jungkook had set out to do some scouting. Nothing extreme. Just a simple peek about, seeing if he could find any clues. He sent a message to the group chat, but he hadn’t waited on a response before he signed in. He’d had no idea that the Big Bad herself would come flying from the fountain the moment he touched the water with his sword. And now she’s circling him like some sort of hawk. Quickly, Jungkook calls up his inventory menu and searches through his items. A few extra swords he picked up, some ritual herbs, his old chainmail armor, some healing potions and…

The fragment…

If this mage takes him out, he’ll end up dropping his entire inventory. Including the fragment.

And by the time he can make his way back over here, other players will have come running from the commotion.

And the fragment will be gone.

“Shit,” he hisses out, dismissing the menu and focusing back on the mage as she releases a chilling cackle.

The quaint village is smoking, with thatched roofs catching fire and whole storefronts crumbling into piles of simmering stone. The sky is nearly blotted out with ash, and all he can see is that mage, swirling around up there in billowing black robes and shiny white teeth exposed in a wicked grin.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder toward the street he’d taken in to the village, but it’s too smokey to see anything more than the outlines of ruined buildings. There’s no way he’ll be able to navigate his way out of here without a lantern. And if it’s this smokey, he’s absolutely positive that nearby players have noticed. Which means more competition.

And more people to snatch his fragment when he falls.

The mage gives a cry, shouts her line, “Not enough yet?!”, and swoops down at a dizzying pace. Jungkook stumbles back, but he’s not fast enough. She’s approaching in a dark blur, too quickly for him to counter. A flash of regret washes through him as he squeezes his eyes shut inside his VR headset. He doesn’t want to see this.

He waits for a tense moment that way, anticipating the melancholy piano chords that accompany in-game death, but none come. Instead, he hears very keenly the sound of the mage grunting as if in pain. And, in an instant, he opens his eyes wide to see standing on the other side of the fountain, a small, white-haired mage, staff searing with frost and ice as the dark mage clutches her chest.

His heart kicks up. “Nova!” he calls to you.

You turn toward him and, to the extent that you’re able in a video game, square him with a sour look. “You moron!” you shout back.

But he can’t help his grin as he stares at your character. “How’d you get here so fast?”

You launch another ball of ice toward the dark mage, sending her hovering just above the cobblestone in front of the fountain. “I saw your message and figured you’d already gone ahead like an idiot so I logged on right away.”

He laughs, but you’re too focused on dealing ice damage to reciprocate. It seems of all his allies, you’re the best equipped to deal with a dark fire mage. He notices in your hand the staff you wield has changed. Where before you used a gnarled tree root with a rune, now you’re swinging a cool white metal staff with a glowing blue gem.

“New staff!” he calls, pointing.

You nod. “Mhm. The schematic from last time,” you say, dealing another blast. The dark mage falls to the ground, groaning. Jungkook is too excited to see you to notice his cue to act, but your head is very much in the game and you jerk your staff toward the fallen mage. “Well? You gonna slash her or what?”

Jungkook stiffens, jumping back into action. He hoists his sword and lunges, giving the mage a few good hits before recoiling back as she rises into the sky once more. The dark mage sends out a barrage of wild, uncontrolled fire that manages to miss Jungkook and hit you.

“Shit!” you call, pausing to glance through your inventory like Jungkook had before. “Dammit! I’m out of health potions,” you say. He notices your health bar is looking low.

“Why are you so hurt?” he asks as you rush toward him.

You sigh. “I ran into some boars in the woods on the way over here and they drained my health a little.”

“Shit,” Jungkook repeats.

“Yeah,” you say, watching as the dark mage readies another spell. “This is why I wanted all of us to go here together.”

“I know,” Jungkook says, his cheeks flaring hot. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh again. “Don’t worry,” you say, flitting your hand. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to start the battle.”

Jungkook is quiet, thinking. You’d always been this way. From the first time the party played together, you’d been generous with him. With everyone. When Tiki fell in the party’s first battle against some goblins, you’d been the one to retrieve his stuff and give up your armor for him. When Zero — the richest player by far — forgot about your scheduled meeting to gather supplies, you’d paid for everyone’s health potions and weapon repairs in his stead.

He shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t have gone off on my own.”

“No you shouldn’t have,” you say, humming. “You need to remember you’ve got a whole team of people who have your back.” He can hear a smile in your voice.

“I-,” he begins, but you cut him off.

“Alright, here’s what we’ll do for now. She’s at half health, so I’ll just wail on her with my ice until she’s within melee range and then you slash her,” you say with a nod. “And if I fall, I fall. Hopefully by then she’ll be low enough health that you can finish her off alone.”

“No, no. If it comes down to it, I’ll take the hit. I’ve got more HP and you’re the one who can do ranged attacks anyway,” Jungkook replies.

There’s no more time to argue, however, because the dark mage turns her fiery eyes toward the two of you and screams before pointing her staff right at Jungkook. Startled, Jungkook glances over at you to see you’re watching too. Neither of you has a chance to say anything before the blast hits, sending the two of you flying back against the fronts of buildings turned to ashy rubble. You let out a shocked gasp through Jungkook’s headset and, as the dust settles, he turns to see your health bar is dangerously low.

“Oh!” he shouts, pulling up his inventory. “Let me grab a health potion! You can have it—,”

“Alright, now I’m pissed,” you interrupt, sidling up to the fountain with measured steps. You consult your inventory and heave a sigh. It seems like you’re mulling something over, but it’s impossible for Jungkook to know what exactly is on your mind. “Use your health potion, Saph!”

He stares at the back of your character’s head, at the capable set of its shoulders. And he feels somehow like he’s really looking at you. The real you. Silhouetted against grey smoke, with a dark mage glowing black and orange in the air above you, he can’t help but think you seem…really cool.

He recalls what you said before. That he has a team of people who have his back.

You grumble something under your breath before deftly swinging your staff around a few times and launching a powerful icy blast toward the mage. She cries out and before she can ready another spell, you’re hurling another ball her way.

“Whoa! Nova, how’re you doing that so fast?” he asks.

“Shut up and heal now!” you shout, and he’s quick to oblige.

You send another blast toward the mage’s chest, and it’s just enough to get her in melee range. But as you do, the staff you’re holding shatters and breaks into shards. The force of the break seems to have some kickback, and you take a few points of damage as you stumble back half a step. You’re down to your very last HP.

“Oh my God! Did it break?” Jungkook asks, stunned.

“Go hit her!” you bark.

Jungkook sends his character rushing the mage once more and gets in a few heavy hits with his sword, pressing furiously on the controllers and moving his arms about wildly in his chair.

He expects her to fly back into the air. Rinse and repeat until she’s finally dead. But this time, perhaps since she’s so low on health, the dark mage simply hovers in front of him. Quickly, she swings her staff back and rears it forward once more, the black orb embedded in the top glowing red.

“She’s gonna hit you!” you shout, and in his shock Jungkook can only turn to look at your character.

Before he can blink, however, you’ve blurred in front of him in a flash of white hair and when the dark mage deals a mighty, close-ranged fire attack, you take it straight to the stomach.

And just like that, your character blinks out of existence, spilling your entire unequipped inventory on the steaming cobblestones in front of Jungkook’s steel shoes.

“Nova?” he calls out, but of course you can’t answer. You’ve warped back to the nearest infirmary somewhere past the woods.

He curses underneath his breath and swings his sword a little wild once, twice, three times until, at last, the dark mage lay prone on the ground, wailing ghostly. She lets out one final scream before withering into pixels. And there, beside your lost inventory, is a canvas loot bag. Jungkook grabs it and pulls from inside a multi chrome shard, glinting in the light refracted through smoke. He examines it. There’s no doubt. It’s a Philosopher’s Stone fragment. Which means your hunch was right.

It also means your party it one step closer to completing the legendary stone, receiving more gold than any of you could ever spend, maxed out HP, and a permanent plaque in Central Square with all of your usernames.

Jungkook sighs as he puts it away in his inventory. He scans through the other loot. A crossbow, some alchemical herbs, and an Imperial Knight’s sword. He pockets everything and, pausing to save, immediately logs off and yanks the headset from his eyes. He drops his controllers, removes his gloves, and sets the sensor jacket aside as he reaches for his phone on his studio desk.

He types in your name in his contact list and calls you right away. Lucky for him, you answer on the second ring.

“Did you get her?” you ask, not sparing even a moment for hellos.

Jungkook stutters a little like an old engine firing up before replying, “Dude what the hell did you do that for?”

You sigh. “I figured you’d have a better shot killing her since I broke my staff.”

“Yeah, but why'd you break your staff?”

“How else were we gonna get her down?”

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. “You spent a long time crafting that, didn’t you?”

You hum. “Not too long.”

“Liar,” he says, but you don’t reply. After a few moments of silence, Jungkook sighs. “I got her.”

He hears you laugh through the phone, followed by a satisfied exhale. “Hell yeah! Then it was worth it.”

“I got the fragment too.”

“She had it!”

Jungkook can’t help but smile a little, staring at his computer screensaver. “Mhm,” he says. “Thanks for taking the hit. I would’ve dropped the first fragment if she’d gotten me.”

You pause. “Oh, you had the first fragment on you?” you ask.

And Jungkook realizes something crucial as the words come crackly through his phone. You didn’t know he was holding it. You didn’t know he could have lost it. You’d jumped in front of that mage not to save the fragment in Jungkook’s inventory, but to save him. He swallows hard, because the silly, stupid sentiment of it makes his eyes a little misty.

“Um…yeah, I did,” Jungkook says slowly, as if testing cold waters.

You sigh. “Why’d you go on your own anyway?”

Jungkook’s shoulders pinch like he’s been struck. Truthfully, he’d logged on after a particularly frustrating call with Seokjin. After begging his manager to let him out of his contract with IJBC, Jungkook had been forced not only to continue working with Director Lim, but to keep good behavior lest the company seize their promotions of his previous album. But after chatting with you, Jungkook’s work is the furthest thing from his mind.

“Um…some issues with my work were getting to me so I figured I’d scout around a little,” he says. “Sorry I didn’t wait for you guys to tell me not to go.”

You laugh. “Turned out okay in the end,” you say easily. “But…your work?”

“Yeah…”

You’re quiet for a moment. While the silence isn’t awkward, it certainly feels thoughtful. “You don’t talk much about your job, so…I guess I was just curious. Like…what sort of issues…,” you continue, voice trailing off.

Jungkook thinks for a moment. What can he safely share without divulging too much? “Um, it’s…like this guy I’m working for is just kind of a dick,” he says, nodding once. “He’s awful to the employees and he’s been firing staff who piss him off. Just the other day he almost fired two people because they ran into me.”

“Oh?” you say, pensive. “So you’re pretty high up then?” you start, then let out a soft grunt and a laugh. “Sorry, I’m prying. Um…he sounds awful. It’s been bothering you working for him?”

Jungkook nods and picks at the skin around his thumb. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s only for a few months, but if it’s this bad after only a few days I don’t really know what to expect. I’m thinking about quitting somehow.”

“Well,” you begin, and Jungkook can hear the sound of things shuffling on the other side of the phone. “Here’s how I see it. If you quit, that’s one less person looking out for the people below you, you know?”

“Hm?”

“Like…if you’re there, maybe you can do some good and prevent other people from getting fired. But if you’re gone, you can’t really help anyone,” you say, then sigh. “I dunno. Just…if you’re forced to work with the guy, I figure you can try to find a way to turn it around. Maybe make things better for the people under you.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long, pregnant moment. He lets your words seep into his skin like a plant photosynthesizing. He really chews on them. “I…I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

You hum. “It’s okay. I can understand how working with someone like that would be really hard,” you say. “But…imagine how hard it is for the people who can’t just up and leave? The folks who have to sit there and take it and don’t have the option to quit, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, brows furrowing. He crosses his arms. “That’s true.”

“I mean, obviously you’re an adult and can do whatever you want, but…I dunno, I guess it would be pretty cool of you to stick around and try to help where you can,” you say. Before Jungkook can respond, however, you gasp. “Oh! I got a text from a client.”

“Oh? Who?” he asks.

“Ah, a woman named Kim Hyejin. She works for some entertainment company or something,” you say, and Jungkook’s blood runs cold.

Kim Hyejin. As in Rooftop Entertainment’s Kim Hyejin? As in Jungkook’s manager’s boss? The reason Jungkook can’t quit? He shakes his head, swallows the lump that’s growing in his throat, tries to silence the incessant thumping in his heart. It can’t be her, right? Surely not. But…really, how many Kim Hyejin’s work for ‘some entertainment company’ and require personal makeup artists? Even if the name is common, that’s just too sensational.

“O-Oh…um…is she the client you saw this morning?” Jungkook asks, but his mouth feels cottony. If you, of all people, were to somehow find out about him…

He shakes his head to clear it.

“Mhm, hold on a sec I’m trying to read it,” you say.

Jungkook doesn’t want to hold on. He doesn’t want to sit and wait for you to answer. He wants to end the call and throw his phone on the futon. He wants to take a long walk around the company building. He wants to delete his Arcana account.

But something keeps him on the line, like a string wrapped around his chest. He’s captive to your every word, desperate to know what Kim Hyejin has to say to you. Has she perhaps found out about Jungkook’s online friends? About the Beast Slayers? About you? Is she reaching out to make you sign an NDA? Did she approach you under the pretense of getting her makeup done only to lure you into accepting some sort of bribe to keep his identity secret?

Is she going to force you to stop contacting him…?

“Holy shit,” you say under your breath.

“What? What is it?” Jungkook says, too quick, too breathless.

You scoff. “Holy shit.”

“Please tell me,” he begs, voice frail. His hands are shaking.

Just when he’s found a group of people who he can connect with, who he can play with, who he can feel comfortable with, something has to come in and ruin it. Jungkook’s heart aches with the dread of anticipation.

“Dude,” you begin, but he can tell you’re smiling. “She just offered me a job on a TV show.”

Jungkook feels that same chill from before creeping up his spine like frost across a windowpane. “What show?” he asks.

If not a premeditated approach, then this has to be…

“Give Up Generation.”

Some sort of divine joke.

[lalainajanes]

for the prompt list: 12. “Welcome back. Now fucking help me.” / 1. Coworker AU / 16. "Sit in my lap" :D

Thank you! I was thinking the other day that I’ve never really done a musicians AU which is silly. So I made that happen here though it’s probs stretching “coworkers.”

The Beat Goes On

When Caroline steps on the bus, she stops immediately, only halfway up the steps. She surveys the scene – Kol, Marcel, Klaus, plus about a half dozen fans. Her eyes turn murderous. She hitches her bag higher on her shoulder, yanks her suitcase up the rest of the way, and storms through the living area. She’s whipped the curtain that hides their bunks closed behind her before Klaus can snag her attention.

A pity. He’d been hoping for her help.

He’s in no mood for company either. Partying all night is such a rockstar cliché – and completely unrealistic considering they need to be on the road in a few hours, then unloading their gear in the next city a few hours after that.

It’s their first headlining tour. They can’t quite afford a complete crew. It’s going well, with most shows sold out. They’ve had to put in a rush order for more merch. Klaus has high hopes the next outing will be a little more luxurious.

Higher hopes that one day they’ll have more than one bus. He’s willing to share with Caroline. Preferably something with an actual bedroom – not the claustrophobic stack of cots they’re currently enduring.

He can’t complain too much. Their current accommodations are far superior to the unreliable van and dingy motels they’d piled into on their first tour. They’d been the first of several supporting acts, had considered themselves lucky when they’d turned a profit by the end.

That profit had bought some decent recording equipment, the EP they’d put out after doing well on Spotify. A better tour had followed. Then another. Press, photoshoots. Then interest from a few labels.

Klaus has only spent a few nights of the last few years in his own bed. He has no regrets.

He sets his beer down, stands. Pretends not to notice when one of the women who’d been inching closer and closer swipes it immediately.

He’ll have to check eBay tomorrow. See what the going rate for his saliva is. He doesn’t bother to excuse himself.

Caroline’s stowing her belongings. Klaus would bet they have the cleanest tour bus in the history of the music industry. Caroline’s a bit of a psychotic neat freak. Over the years she has doled out vicious punishments when a “Close Cohabitation Survival Rule” (there’s an extensive list - laminated and prominently posted) is violated.

Kol had been the slowest to learn. To drive the lesson home, Caroline had snipped out the back pockets of every pair of trousers he’d packed. She’ then hidden all of his underwear. Had bribed, threatened or cajoled every man on tour not to offer a spare pair.

She’d timed it flawlessly, Kol hadn’t had time to run out to a shop, and they hadn’t been significant enough to have anyone they could send on an errand. Kol had done a show with his arse – clad only in a pair of Caroline’s lime green lace boy shorts, hanging out of a ruined pair of jeans. The pictures appeared online within minutes, Kol will likely be answering questions about his preference in underwear for the rest of his natural life.

Caroline’s plots had done the trick. Their belongings tend to stay organized, their floors are never sticky, and the bathroom is perfectly sanitary.

Her bunk’s curtain is closed, but Klaus sees a faint glow, knows she’s not asleep. He yanks the curtain aside.

He’s willing to risk stoking Caroline’s anger. He’s exceedingly good at soothing her.

Caroline glares and tries to pull the fabric out of Klaus’ grip. “Go away.”

He gauges how much she means it, finds little heat in her tone. And she shifts over willingly when he climbs in next to her, lifts her legs so he can curl his under them. Caroline had showered at the venue, had her hair braided and off her face. She wears an old pair of sweats (his) and a tank top. Klaus attempts to coax, “Come out and have a drink.”

Caroline’s nose wrinkles, “Pass.”

“One drink.”

“I’m tired. It’s crowded.”

Weak excuses. “You’ll miss the show.”

That piques her interest. Caroline hates to be out of the loop.

“What show?”

“Our lovely manager should arrive shortly, shouldn’t she? Why else would Kol have three girls who’s name’s he hasn’t bothered to learn draped all over him?”

She twists her head to stare at him, and Klaus is sorely tempted by how close her mouth is. It would be so easy to close the minuscule gap and press his lips to hers, to stroke the spot on her neck that always makes her eyes roll back and her hips shift close.

But they don’t do that anymore.

“Are you telling me,” Caroline says slowly, disbelief etched in every word. “That Kol’s concocted some teen soap style plot to make Bonnie jealous?”

“I did try to tell him it was unwise.” Though, if he’s honest, Klaus hadn’t tried that hard.

Caroline presses the heel of her hand to her forehead, a frustrated groan spilling from her throat. “I have been trying so hard to convince Bonnie he’s serious. He’s going to ruin all my hard work.”

“All the more reason for you to come out, hmm? Can’t have all of your most excellent matchmaking going to waste.”

He’s not even upset when she elbows him in the stomach because he knows he’s won. He slides out of the bunk, and Caroline twists, “I need to find my phone and stall Bon,” she mutters. Her tanktop slides up as she rummages through her blankets, and Klaus clasps his hands behind his back because the urge to run his hand over the smooth skin of her hip might be stronger than he is.

He has a plan, well thought out, and practically foolproof. He cannot rush. Caroline pauses when she notices Klaus watching, balances on her elbow, and shoves his shoulder with her free hand. “Get out there. Make sure no one does anything too stupid.”

“No promises.” Klaus knows better. He’s known Kol since birth. Reckless acts of stupidity are one of his brother’s specialties.

Caroline’s found her phone, has settled on her stomach. She’s frantically texting, so Klaus exits.

He immediately notes that several bottles of liquor have made their way out. That more people Klaus doesn’t recognize have joined them. Kol’s lost some clothing, has got one arm raised high, splashes of what Klaus is reasonably sure is bourbon splashing down, onto his bare chest.

It has all the makings of a disaster.

Unfortunately, for some reason, Caroline is slow to appear. Kol’s at his jittery, exuberant drunk stage, unable to sit still or focus on a topic for longer than a few moments. He’s telling stories that are only half true, gesturing wildly. A few of their visitors are enthralled. Marcel had slipped outside with a few people, Klaus hears his laugh drift in through the open door occasionally.

Two women have boxed him in. They don’t seem to mind that he has no interest in the conversation they insist on prolonging. They giggle delightedly at his clipped answers. Klaus has already taken photos, signed skin. Has his fingers crossed their not the type to rush off to a tattoo parlor.

When Caroline emerges from the back, Klaus has a moment of déjà vu. She barely notices Kol; her attention focused on him, and the people invading his personal space. She’s furious again, more so, Klaus thinks.

He’s always been confident in his plan but won’t say no to the ego boost her obvious jealousy provides.

It’s a small space; she’s in front of him in a few steps. Klaus smiles up at Caroline, grabs her wrist. She appears confused for a second – it’s been ages since he’s touched her in front of another person.

He hasn’t attempted it since being photographed, having the images splashed all over social media and picked apart, became a real possibility. Caroline had begun shying away once the tweets and the Instagram comments had started coming in. Some positive, a lot negative. Klaus had followed her lead. Had figured he’d let her get used to the fame, that he’d just have to convince her that they could be together publicly without ruining what they have privately.

He drags her hand to his mouth, distracts her by pressing a chaste kiss to the back of it. He hears a gasp to his left, but he doesn’t care, tugs harder until Caroline loses her balance.

She lands in his lap, and one of the women leaps to her feet with a yelp. Convenient, as it gives Klaus more room to maneuver. He wraps his arm around Caroline’s waist and settles her more comfortably, her side resting against his chest. He pitches his voice loud enough to be heard clearly by everyone in the room, “A bit clumsy tonight, aren’t you? It’s fine, sit in my lap.”

The woman who’d swiped his beer bottle is either drunk enough not to mind her tongue or unconcerned with basic manners. “Are you two?” She lifts a hand in a gesture that’s both vague and slightly lascivious.

Caroline squirms, but Klaus squeezes her hip, cutting off her denial with a whisper in her ear. “You took ages. Welcome back, now fucking help me.”

She pinches his stomach in retaliation. Klaus holds back a wince. Caroline ignores it, turns on the charm, smiling warmly at their nosy questioner. “Nope. We’ve just known each other for ages. Spent way too much time in tight spaces. Not a lot of boundaries when you’ve spent months crammed in a van, you know?”

Klaus could comment about the private time they’d managed to enjoy in that van occasionally but Caroline’s fingernails are sharp. He doesn’t mind wearing their imprints, but he’d prefer to earn those marks pleasurably.

“So, you’re just friends?”

“Bon-Bon!” Kol shouts, interrupting Caroline’s response.

(Probably a good thing. Klaus isn’t entirely sure he trusts himself to stick to his timeline if Caroline tried to claim they were just anything while sitting on his lap and wearing his clothes.)

He’s surprised when Caroline settles back against him, rather than leaping to his feet. Pleased, too. Her arm drapes around his shoulders, her fingertips tangling in his necklaces. She watches the scene unfolding in front of her.

Her touch is familiar, missed. Klaus closes his eyes to enjoy it while he can.