#technically it's more like three papers because we technically have to write it in class and we don't know which subject he'll pick

[melonpond]

writing papers my beloathed

[princess-of-the-corner]

Quirk Classification

Cause, I was thinking more about the Quirk Counsellor thing, and figured I’d write down what sort of system I think these people have to work with. Keep in mind, this is the same system that they’ve been using for almost 3 centuries, with VERY little adjustment or additions.

the Basics:

Emitter 

Physical

Mutation

the first three Quirk classes thought up, the ones still around. They are VERY basic and barebones, making it both wildly easy and insanely difficult to actually use them. Emitter Quirks would be classed similar to Katsuki’s or Mina’s - their Quirk lets them “Emit” something That does whatever thing. Physical would be something like Sato, who’s Quirk affects his physical state, increasing his strength and so on. Mutation is for people whose Quirks change the user from the “human baseline”, regardless of how obvious it is. Most Mutation Quirks are obvious, such as Mina, Koda, or Tokoyami, but you could have a person who looks totally normal, but has an extra heart or extra lung capacity, or who’s liver is capable of processing poisons, and that would count as a mutation quirk.So, these are the barebone basics that Counsellors had to use to describe people. Now, Other classes, that have been added since:

Mental - this one was the first added to the initial trio, only a few years after the system was put in place, so some count it as part of the “basics”, though others argue this point. Exists to class ANY Quirks that predominantly work with, focus on, or effect the mind. Hitoshi’s Quirk would count, and you could make an argument for Illusion Girl. But, again, this is deliberately broad, so there are plenty of arguments for what “counts” as a Mental Quirk. (Sidenote: given the stigma on mental health care, I could see early on being classed as having a Mental based Quirk being seen as being “crazy”. How prevalent that is currently? Unknown.)

Elemental - technically started as a “sub-class” of Quirk, most often paired with Emitter or Mental. Now, can be used on its own. Quirk user can control, or has a high affinity, with an “Element”, either defined by the “basics” (Fire, Wind, Water, Earth, sometimes Wood and Metal) or by the periodic table. One of the most common types of Quirks, was unofficially used as a qualifier for a few decades before being added as an official designation.

Shifter - like Elemental, started as a sub-class used as a qualifier, mostly still used that way. Used to designate that the user’s Quirk “shifts” them from one state to another. Himiko’s Quirk would be classed as a “Physical-Shifter” Quirk, because it shifts her physical state, the shift is total and complete, but not permanent, so doesn’t count as a Mutation. (Sidenote: I could see this one being variable on its official use. Like, say, Japan uses it, but somewhere like Russia might not recognize Shifter as an official term, and would instead class Himiko’s Quirk as a Mutation type, as an example.)

Reality - this is one I see as a more recent addition, one that’s a bit tentative, and not seen in much use. Mostly cause it scares the crap out of people. It’s used to denote a Quirk that effects an area, or the physical world, around a person - I.e. effects the “reality”. Best examples I can think of would be Stars & Stripes, and Eri. Their Quirks affect the very world around them, and change it accordingly. I see Ochako eventually having her Quirk classed like this, because (as we see from her Quirk Awakening[fuck is this Spoilers???]) her gravity manipulation can eventually become a field around her that she can control. However, having your Quirk classed as one that effects REALITY ITSELF would probably paint a massive target on you, so I bet you anything Eri’s is classed as Emitter on paper. Stars & Stripes might be the only person in the WORLD who’s Quirk is officially classed as “Reality”, cause she’s a grown ass woman with basically the whole  US Army standing behind her.

so, those are the basics I thought of. If you think this sounds inadequate, you would be correct! It really fucking is! Again, the idea is that initially, Quirk Counsellors were put in place, not to help people, but to identify threats. And even if society’s perception has changed, even if the Job itself has changed goals, the general structure hasn’t, so the system reflects that. Those aren’t things you use to label someone’s health, they’re what you use to denote how dangerous they are if they attack you. It’s why getting your Quirk still counts as a “diagnosis”, like it’s an illness, something foreign and different from the “baseline”. Which means that most of these Quirk Counsellors, if they genuinely want to help those they are Counselling, are struggling against a system that was designed to identify nuclear bombs, but is being used to offer life skills coaching. And if you don’t give a shit, if you just slap a name and a class on a Quirk, you do well, because the job isn’t long term care, it’s Fast-paced threat assessment. The more “patients” you have, the more Quirks you identify in a year compared to your peers, the better you get paid.

There’s probably a large movement to get the whole system redesigned (I’d imagine Canada and Norway, maybe Sweden? have better Quirk Classification systems, attached to healthcare, while places like Japan, America, and Russia haven’t changed since they were implemented, the whole thing is adjacent to healthcare, but officially distinct), but the whole thing keeps getting shot down. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” is the prevailing mindset - and the fact that all of this benefits a certain underground boogeyman clearly has NOTHING to do with it!

-

Honestly yeah just!

There should be so many caveats to Quirk Classification and none of them really fit in the box even the most basic ‘looks like one type’ Quirk is still multiclassing.

[maybeimamuppet]

picking teams- chapter 14: cady

hello everyone!! boo surprise sunday post!! because!! TODAY IS MY THIRD WRITING BIRTHDAY WOOOOOO!

today three years ago i posted my first ever oneshot (i think technically it was on the 4 bc it was late at night but the intention was to be today so i’m sticking with the 3). i can honestly say i was expecting NOBODY to read anything of mine and that this would be something i did for maybe a few months and then dropped like all my other hobbies.

and here we are three years later! so i’d just like to say a huge thank you to everyone who’s supported me through this little journey over the last three years. i feel like i really have a community and a little family here. i appreciate every single pair of eyeballs that has ever laid eyes on a fic of mine, whether you comment and i get to know who you are or you’re just a lurker. whether you’re new or you’ve been here the whole time. thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here for and with me <3

anyhoo! mushy stuff over for now lol please enjoy this chapter :)

tw for

broken bones

and as always if i missed something please let me know so i can add it in!

——————

Cady goes back to school that Wednesday.

Her parents let her have one more day off to recover and finish the homework she had been putting off. Cady's still not feeling 100% after her episode, as Janis put it, but she can't afford to miss any more school. Or cheer practice. She's gotten more than a few threatening texts from Regina.

She runs into Janis briefly going into homeroom, since it's in the same classroom as Janis' first period. She smiles, mostly at the ground, and Janis surreptitiously brushes her hand against Cady's and gently links their fingers together before walking off like nothing happened.

Cady blushes furiously and heads to her seat. She hunches in on herself to scribble something on a piece of notebook paper she rips off and folds up. She's so focused on making sure nobody sees what she's writing that she almost misses Ms. Norbury trying to take attendance.

"Cady. Caaaady. Heron. Hello."

"Wh- oh, uh, here," she stutters. Ms. Norbury arches an eyebrow and ticks her off on her computer. Cady trills her lips and tucks the paper into her pocket.

"Glad to have you back, Cady," she says once the bell rings.

"Thanks! Uh, see you this afternoon!" Cady says, rushing out the door. They already don't have much time to get from class to class, and she has a stop to make this time.

She tries to act like she's just leaning casually against the wall and she doesn't have to be across the building in two minutes. Once she looks around to double check nobody is watching, she carefully slips the note between the slats in Janis' locker and rushes off to her class.

Hopefully she gets it.

—-

Cady looks up from her phone in fright when she hears a murmured, "Hey, sweet thing."

Janis is peeking around the corner of the bleachers, lunch in hand and a confused look on her face. Cady spotted this during a rainy-day indoor practice last week. The bleachers are completely solid, so nobody can see in. "Did anyone follow you? See you?"

"Nobody important," Janis shrugs as she puts her food down. "Whatcha doing?"

Cady sighs in relief upon hearing confirmation that nobody will see them together. She leans in for a kiss and gets a sweet little peck. "I want to have lunch with you! It's like our own little place!"

"That it is," Janis agrees with a chuckle. "How's your day been?"

"Good! I got a hundred on my math test," Cady says happily.

"Of course you did," Janis laughs. "What'd you tell Regina?"

"About what?"

"Where you are," Janis says as she takes a bite of her... probably turkey sandwich. Cady's eyes widen. Shit.

"I... didn't tell her anything," she says quietly.

Janis quirks an eyebrow. "Better come up with something quick."

"Why?"

"She's gonna grill you like a war interrogator," Janis snorts.

Shit. She's right. "Uh... um..."

"Just tell her you skipped lunch," Janis shrugs.

"Skipped it?" Cady asks.

Janis shrugs again. "I dunno. That'd probably work."

"I'll think of something," Cady hums, pursing her lips and taking an exasperated bite out of her celery stick. Janis smiles at her like she's some cute little animal.

"So... any particular reason you're slipping notes into my locker and sneaking around with me behind the bleachers?" Janis says with a smirk as she scoots a little closer to Cady.

Cady groans as she's suddenly reminded why she had done this. "I have to go to Regina's after school. We're having a costume fitting for the holiday parade."

Janis looks at her oddly. "You're in the parade?"

Cady nods eagerly. "Mmhmm! I get to be an acro elf!"

"A what?" Janis giggles.

"I get to dress as an elf and do tumbling and acrobatic stuff next to Santa's float!"

"Oh," Janis says. "Stevie loves that one. I didn't know it was us."

"They choose the best cheer team in the region to do it. Apparently this is the first time in, like, ten years that it's been North Shore," Cady explains.

Janis snorts. "That makes more sense."

"I'm really excited. But I have to spend a lot of time with the Plastics, I won't have as much time free after school," Cady says apologetically.

Janis shrugs. "It's just a parade. Once it's done your schedule will calm down a bit and we can spend more time together again. Not like we're breaking up."

Cady giggles. "I still have my knight in shining armor to come save me from the Plastics if I beckon her."

"Damn right you do," Janis smirks, leaning in for a kiss.

Cady happily leans in too, smiling to herself as their lips touch. She's suddenly very glad she totally ate it at their last practice and spied this hideout behind the bleachers from the ground.

"Might need to save you already," Janis hums as they pull apart, looking Cady up and down with a small grimace.

Cady sheepishly looks down at her bright pink crop top she'd decided to wear today. She tugs at her collar, suddenly self-conscious. "You don't like it?"

"No, no, you look cute," Janis says. Something in her tone tells Cady it's a half-truth at best. Oh well.

“Thanks," she says. Janis takes another bite of her sandwich and sprawls on the hard floor of the gym with her head on Cady's lap.

"Oh, get this- my math class this morning," she says. Cady tunes out almost immediately, stroking some stray hairs away from Janis' forehead and just watching her mouth move. It's probably nothing important. God, she's gorgeous.

What is she going to tell Regina?

I got sick- ew, no.

I had to talk to a teacher- too easy to mess up if she comes from the wrong direction. They'd get suspicious too easily.

I- oh, fuck it, I'll think of something.

She continues munching on her lunch and half-listening to Janis speak. Janis doesn't seem to notice or care one way or the other. Cady smiles and pulls out her phone to check her messages. She thinks of something then.

"And then-"

"Have you... told anyone about us?"

Janis pauses mid-sentence. "No."

"Not even Damian?" Cady asks shyly.

Janis shakes her head. "I kinda still don't believe it myself. I wanted to keep it to myself for a while."

"You don't wanna tell people?" Cady asks with a frown.

"No! No, I do. Some people," Janis says. "I just wanted it to stay between us for a little bit. And I figured I should check with you before I told anyone. But I'd be fine telling a few people now."

"Oh," Cady says.

"Do you want to?" Janis asks, sitting up and brushing her hair out of her face. Cady thinks for a moment before she nods.

"We should probably tell Damian, at least. He'll find out sooner or later anyway."

Janis sighs. "True."

"You don't want to?"

"No, I'm just preparing myself," Janis says, looking at Cady out of the corner of her eye with a small grin. "Might as well get it over with, I guess. C'mere."

Cady frowns in confusion and scoots closer. Janis pulls out her phone, opens the camera, and leans in. Cady catches on and gently rests a hand on Janis' cheek, smiling into a sweet kiss. She can feel Janis smiling too as she hears the camera shutter snap and they break apart. Janis sneaks a quick peck to Cady's nose, making her blink in shock and giggle quietly.

Janis opens her text conversation with Damian and types out a message. Cady hugs her arm and leans in over her shoulder to read it.

snarkisian: hey babe

cupboard: whaaaaaat do you want

snarkisian: Sent a photo: things have developed

Janis' phone starts ringing almost immediately. Janis frowns at it as Damian's contact photo fills the screen and it buzzes in her hand, but she hits the green button and the speaker so they can both hear.

As soon as she does, a piercing shriek rings out from the speakers. It's loud enough that Cady practically feels her brain dislodge and start rattling around in her head. She thinks she might've heard him all the way from the cafeteria, too.

As soon as that happens, he hangs up. Janis and Cady both blink at the screen for a moment before bursting into hysterical laughter.

"I don't know what I was expecting," Janis sighs affectionately as she slips her phone back into her pocket. Cady feels her own buzz against her leg and pulls it out to see several incoming texts from Damian that mainly consist of ABSKEOWIWHWJWJABDHWOWOA.

She clocks the time, then, and jumps. "Oh, shit!"

Janis startles. "What?"

"I have to go, lunch is almost over," Cady says, frantically packing up her things. "Bye babe. See you later."

Janis blinks in surprise, but returns the quick kiss Cady gives her before Cady goes rushing off. She has to find Regina before the bell rings. Not that Regina has ever felt much urge to listen to the bell.

She tries to think of an excuse as she hurries through the halls towards the cafeteria. Nothing really comes to her. She skids to a halt next to some sort of booth when she sees Regina and Aaron standing close to it.

"Hey!" she greets brightly after smoothing down her hair and adjusting her shirt. They both look at her. Aaron quirks his head when he sees what she's wearing, but he gets a faint smile.

Regina checks her nails and says, "Hey. Where have you been?"

"Oh, um..." Cady says. Shit. She wracks her brain trying to think of something. What did Janis say? "I skipped lunch."

Regina cocks an eyebrow. "Why?"

Cady smiles as she puts the pieces together. "I'm... trying to lose weight. So I look more like you guys. I just had one of these diet bars."

"Diet bars?" Regina questions. "Let me see."

Cady happily hands over the whole box of Kälteens. Regina holds it between her hands to try to read. Aaron peeks over her shoulder to try to see too.

"It's all in Norwegian or something," Regina says, looking at Cady in confusion.

"Swedish," Cady corrects before she can stop herself. "There's... um... this ingredient in them that you can't get here yet. My mom used to use them to lose weight in Kenya."

"Hm," Regina nods. "Can I keep these?"

"Sure!" Cady says brightly. She has a feeling Regina would've kept them even if she said no. Works for me.

"Now, are you getting me my candy cane?" Regina hums. Cady frowns in confusion before she realizes she's talking to Aaron.

"What happened to losing weight, those things are pure sugar," Aaron chuckles. Regina brushes his hair off his forehead and runs her fingers through it so it stays out of his face.

"But it's such a nice thing to do for your girlfriend," she pouts. "And stop pulling your hair down, you look so hot with it pushed back. Don't you think so, Cady?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, way hotter," Cady says. Two months ago that would've made Cady want to go for the jugular. Now? She couldn't care less.

Aaron sighs and begrudgingly leaves his hair the way Regina sort of styled it. "Alright, move over, since you so desperately need this candy cane."

He leans over the booth selling them to fill out one of the paper slips that'll eventually get tied to a candy cane and passed out in class. Cady giggles into her hand when she realizes Damian is the one in the budget Santa Claus costume behind the booth.

"Cady, remember, student parking lot after school," Regina says as she laces her pink-taloned fingers through Aaron's and leads him off to... wherever they're going. Most definitely not class.

"Got it! Bye," she says. She can feel her face relax as soon as they're turned around and can't see her anymore. Cady goes to the booth and leans across it. "Hi Dame."

"Ho ho ho, happy holidays! Would you like a candy cane?" 'Santa' replies. Cady laughs again.

"Hey, does Regina ever send any of these things?" she asks.

"Nah, she only gets them," Damian replies in his normal voice. "You want any?"

"One please," Cady replies, taking a pen with a smirk on her face.

—————

Cady sighs a little to herself as she follows Regina and the others into her house. Gretchen and Karen chat with Regina's mom. Regina huffs and rolls her eyes, straight off to her bedroom. Cady says a quick and polite hello and takes a handful of the offered snacks. She nibbles on the sunflower seeds while she mulls over what to do next.

Regina took the bars. As long as nobody recognizes them, she should be in the clear there. How can she make them work faster? Kälteens do work quickly, but Cady wants results as soon as possible. For Janis.

What makes you gain weight quickly? Cholesterol, but Cady doesn't want to do anything permanent. This is just to teach Regina a lesson, then she can lose the weight again. Sugar? Yeah. Carbs.

Cady smiles to herself as she puts a plan in place.

"Alright, you girls go find Regina. You'll do great," Mrs. George says after however long. Cady jumps when she remembers where she is.

"Thank you, Mrs. George," she calls as she goes running after Gretchen and Karen up to Regina's room.

"You're welcome!" the woman calls after them.

Regina tosses a hanger at her as soon as Cady walks into the room. "Here. I know, the costumes are fugly."

"I think they're kinda cute," Cady says, holding the outfit out so she can see it all.

"The hat has fucking jingle bells on the top, Cady," Regina huffs, handing Cady hers. She shakes it a little bit, and sure enough, there's a quiet jingling. "Go make sure it fits, but we really just need to work on making sure the hat doesn't hit the ground or fall off while you tumble."

"Okay," Cady says. Gretchen and Karen just changed in front of each other, but Cady sneaks off to the en-suite and locks the door behind her. She looks at herself in the mirror and takes a deep breath.

Janis was right, I do look Plastic, she thinks. Cute, though. Her loss.

She carefully takes off her clothes and tugs on the red-and-white striped tights. She has to jump to get the super stretchy material all the way up, but she manages with only one faceplant. Then comes the green dress, with gold buttons down the bodice, short sleeves with puffed shoulders, a belt at her waist, and red and gold trim around the hem with a collar to match.

It's not a great fit. Hesitantly, she unlocks the door and steps back into Regina's room with an, "Um."

Regina looks at her and laughs. "I kinda thought that would happen, these costumes are all huge. I swear they think we're all fat cows or something. My mom will tailor it for you."

Cady looks down at the very strangely fitting dress. There's a lot of space in between her belly and the dress, and not a lot in between it and her boobs. The skirt hits about mid-thigh, which is entirely too long, if Gretchen and Karen's are anything to go by. The sleeves are both uncomfortably tight in her armpits and loose everywhere else.

Other than that, it's great. At least the tights fit.

"Go change again, she'll get your measurements before you leave."

Cady nods and slips gratefully back into the restroom. She snaps a quick picture before she changes and sends it to Janis.

She's stuck with the dress over her head when she hears her phone go off, presumably with Janis' answer. She wriggles more in a ditch attempt to free herself, which gets her nowhere even faster.

Eventually, she escapes, heaving for breath and her hair all frizzy. She peels off the tights and puts on her non-elf clothes. Regina takes the hanger as she passes her on her way into her bathroom while Cady is occupied checking her phone.

jayjay: cutie

cadygirl: You like it?

jayjay: ofc i do

jayjay: my dorky little elf

cadygirl: Hey!

jayjay: do u get ears and shit

cadygirl: Yeah

cadygirl: Regina's really mad about it

jayjay: holy shit that's amazing

jayjay: reginald in elf ears

cadygirl: I don't get it I think they're cute

jayjay: i think ur cute

"Who are you texting?" Karen asks. Cady leaps a solid foot in the air as she materializes over her shoulder. "Not enough emojis."

"Um..." Cady stutters. Her immediate instinct was to blush and press her phone to her chest so they can't see. Now Gretchen and Karen are both looking at her suspiciously. "Uh... my... g- boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?!" Gretchen squeals sharply. "You can't get a boyfriend without telling us!"

"I can't?"

"Not without your best friends' approval! You wouldn't buy a skirt without asking your friends if it looks good on you," Gretchen hums.

"I wouldn't?" Cady replies in confusion.

"Exactly!"

Cady just blinks.

"So who is it?" Karen asks eagerly.

"Oh, you don't know him," Cady says immediately. Because it's not a him. It's not technically a lie. Right?

"He's not, like, thirty, right?" Gretchen asks in concern, the furrow in her brow deepening the longer Cady goes without answering.

"No! No, ew," Cady replies with a grimace. "Uh... he... goes to another school."

"Which one?"

"Um... do you remember that school we played right before Thanksgiving break? The away game when we stayed at the hotel?"

"Roosevelt?" Gretchen asks. Sure.

"Yeah. He goes there," Cady replies. "His name is... Jasin. With... an I."

"Ooh, unique!" Gretchen coos. "Is he cute? You have to introduce us soon!"

"Well, I don't think he's... everyone's type, but I think he's cute," Cady replies sheepishly.

"Aww, you're blushing!" Karen says. Cady blushes harder.

"Shut up," she scoffs. Karen's face falls. "No, wait, I didn't mean it like that-"

"It's okay," Karen says quietly.

"I'm really sorry, Kare," Cady says. Karen gives her a look Cady can't read. Not that Karen is ever easy to read.

"Don't worry about it."

Cady gently squeezes her arm. Karen smiles faintly at her.

"Do you have pictures of him?" Gretchen asks eagerly.

"No," Cady says immediately. "Uh... he's really shy, we don't, like, send pictures of ourselves much. We just like to see each other in person and text and stuff."

"Aww," they both coo. Gretchen continues, "Well, get one soon! We gotta make sure he's hot enough for you."

"I'll try," Cady giggles. "Oh, could we like... not tell Regina right away? It's all new, still, I don't want her to freak out about our image if we break up or whatever. We've only been together for, like, two weeks."

"Our lips are sealed," Gretchen replies immediately.

"But I'm not using SuperGlue as Chapstick again," Karen adds.

"No, that's okay, K, don't do that," Cady says immediately. "Thanks guys."

"Alright sluts, put on these... eugh. I can't even call them hats," Regina says as she parades back into the room. She chucks one at each of them rather aggressively. Cady's ends up hitting her full force in the face when she's too slow to react.

Regina watches as the three of them carefully push all her very expensive furniture out of the way so they have enough room to flip without fear of crashing into anything. Cady asks why they're not just practicing outside, and Regina goes on a solid ten minute rant about being seen in those costumes more than they have to. Cady doesn't speak for the rest of the evening.

—————

"Did Regina's boobs get bigger?" Cady hears the boy behind her in chemistry class ask about two weeks later, apparently as a conversation opener with his equally-jock-douchebag lab partner.

"Dude, totally," jock-douchebag replies. "Aaron's a lucky guy."

"Isn't she still dogging Shane?" bro number one asks. Cady tries to hide a shudder at the mention of his name.

Bro the second shrugs. "Probably."

Dammit, we made her hotter, Cady huffs to herself as she slides her goggles down over her eyes and turns on the bunsen burner. She looks over and sees Janis with a similarly disgruntled look on her face.

She gestures subtly for Cady to focus. Cady snaps back into the real world, this time before she can set herself on fire. She risks one glance back and sees Janis chuckle to herself, biting her lips to stop before anyone can see and ask what she's laughing about. Cady smiles to herself and buckles down to set some Doritos on fire. Not myself, thank you very much.

—————

Cady is laser focused in calculus another two weeks later. Not on calculus, but... she's there, it's fine.

She jumps and bangs her knee against her desk when Santa Claus slams the door open with a bellowed, "HHHHHOOOOO!"

"Jesus Christ," Ms. Norbury sighs, picking up her shattered chalk bits after she dropped it in shock. "Make it quick."

"One candy cane gram for Shane Oman," Damian says, adjusting his very poor quality fake beard as he hands Shane his candy cane.

He holds it between his first and index fingers like a pair of dirty underpants and leaves Shane to snatch it. Damian wipes his hand on his red velvet Santa coat like Shane has some sort of hetero cooties he might catch.

"Four for Glenn Coco!" Damian continues. "Hohoho, you go, Glenn Coco. Two for Caddy Heron!"

Cady frowns in confusion. Two? She only bought one. She takes them with a smile as Damian wiggles his way between the rows to deliver them. "Thanks, D."

Damian winks at her and moves on to deliver the next few candy canes to the lucky recipients.

Cady checks the tags on hers. There's the fake one, the one she wrote herself. She smiles to herself as she reads the little red slip of paper on the second one.

Merry Christmas my little elf

<3, J

ps ur short lolololol

She rolls her eyes as she reads the very loving message from her girlfriend and unwraps the end of the candy cane. She sucks on it as she continues pretending to pay attention when Damian leaves and Ms. Norbury can resume her lesson.

——

"Sorry I'm late!" she pretend-puffs as she stumbles her way into the gym. Regina just glares at her from across the room, but Gretchen comes scrambling over to join her as she plops her still-open bag on the ground. "God, I was in the middle of a problem when the bell rang, I didn't even have time to get packed up-"

"You got a candy cane?" Gretchen asks softly. She picks it up and unfolds the tag to read.

"Oh, yeah, Regina sent me one! Isn't she just the best friend?"

"R-Regina?" Gretchen squeaks. "Thanks for being such a great best friend. ...Cute."

"She didn't give you one?" Cady asks with faux-sympathy. She's heard it from the mouth of the lioness herself. There's no way Gretchen got any.

Gretchen shakes her head frantically. "She never sends them."

"Oh. Weird," Cady replies. "Well, you can have that one if you want. I had another one."

"I have to go," Gretchen chokes around floods of tears. Shit. Maybe Gretchen is a little more fragile than she thought.

"Gretchen," she says pleadingly, running after her friend to the bathroom.

"Well, i-if you and Regina are best friends now... then you can be in charge of keeping all her secrets," Gretchen says as soon as the door closes behind Cady.

Cady just nods. She can tell Gretchen is about to ramble, she doesn't dare interrupt her.

"Like, for example, she bought you those shoes just to make fun of you! Be-because she knew you wouldn't be able to walk in them. And she's not really blonde!"

Cady's eyes widen. She's not? Her eyes flick to the door as she hears a shocked gasp come from the other side. Was that... Damian?

"Her natural color is dark blonde. Also she totally cheats on Aaron!"

Cady almost chokes.

"Every Thursday she says she has a cheer intensive but she totally just stays behind to hook up with Shane Oman in the lion costume!"

"She makes him wear the costume?" Cady asks in disgusted horror.

"No! They're both in the costume!" Gretchen bellows, snapping the candy cane in half and dropping the pieces to the floor. Cady's jaw drops.

"Oh my god."

"And I never told anyone because I am such a good friend! I-I'm gonna go fill up my water bottle. Cover for me?" Gretchen sniffles. Cady nods.

Gretchen ducks out of the room. Damian enters before the door even closes, and Janis slams her way out of the stall. Damian hysterically whimpers, "I wear that costume!"

"Cads, that was amazing! What did you do?!" Janis says with an adorably delighted smile on her face. She rushes up and grabs Cady by the arms, spinning her around before she leans in for a kiss.

"Just a little Christmas magic," Cady responds with a grin of her own as soon as they break apart. "I sent myself a candy cane but I signed it as being from Regina."

"Clever girl," Janis coos in a horrible accent. Cady giggles.

"Okay, I gotta go! Love you guys." Janis gets another kiss and Damian gets a quick hug before Cady runs back to the gym to start their last parade practice.

————-

Cady grumbles as she wakes up the next morning. It's barely morning, the sun hasn't even risen yet. She has to be in the city, an hour away, two hours before the parade starts at 8:00. And she has to be there with her hair and makeup already done.

She does consider herself a morning person, but four in the morning is a bit much for anyone.

She grumbles as she hauls herself out of bed and stumbles to the restroom. She turns on the light and resists the urge to wince and close her eyes. How am I meant to be a jolly elf on five hours of sleep?

Cady opens her eyes extra wide, looking a little past unhinged when she sees herself in the mirror, to let the light in and hopefully wake her up.

By the time she's done brushing her teeth, she doesn't squint in the light anymore. She still grumbles sleepily as she washes her face, though.

She brings up the photo Regina sent (accompanied by many profanities) of what her makeup should look like so she can copy it. It's honestly not very different from her usual cheer makeup. Foundation, lots of gold eyeshadow, black mascara, red lipstick. Pretty much the only difference is the bright pink blush that she leaves in neat little circles on the apples of her cheeks instead of blending it up her cheekbones to look more natural. It's a little more rag doll than elf, but maybe it'll work better with the costume on.

She does her hair in two french braids, parted as close to even as she can get down the middle of her head and twisted intricately so they won't fall out after a morning of being mostly upside-down. She gives up on each braid a bit before the end, and ties the bands around halfway down instead of at the ends. Kind of a cute look, she thinks, as she fluffs out her curls at the end of each braid.

"You ready, binti? Have a Kälteen bar," her mother says when she trudges her way downstairs. Cady grabs the bar and takes a disgruntled bite out of it. She nods.

"You're sure this Regina friend can bring you home? We have to leave right from-"

"Right from the parade, I know, Dad," Cady says. "I quadruple checked, I'll make it home fine. Have fun at the vet conference."

"Oh, we will," her mother promises. "There's a keynote speaker on upgrades in euthanasia technology."

"...Cool," Cady replies.

"Right?! Alright, go get in the car. You sure you have everything?"

"Yeah. Regina has my outfit, I'll get changed there," Cady says. She looks down and brushes some wrinkles out of her Christmas jammies that Janis bought her. She smiles at the memory. My little dork.

"Time to hit the road, then!" her dad says. Cady shrieks as he hoists her off the ground and marches out towards the car.

"Dad!"

Her dad just starts bellowing the chorus to I Love a Parade, probably really irritating their poor neighbors. Cady gets affectionately tossed in the backseat, and her dad continues singing as her parents get into their spots up front and start the drive to Chicago.

————-

"Binti, we're here," her mother says. Cady jumps and snorts, bashing her head against the window she had fallen asleep against. "Ooh, be careful."

"Shit," Cady hisses under her breath, rubbing her new sore spot.

"Language," her dad chides, only half-serious.

"Sorry daddy. Have fun in Peoria. I love you," Cady says, bending at a weird angle to hug her parents goodbye. They can only stay long enough to see the beginning of the parade, so she has to get her goodbyes in now.

"We will. Be safe, have fun. No boys," her mother says, gently patting her back.

"I know, I know. You don't have to worry about that," Cady chuckles. Really. You have no idea.

"Atta girl. Go get em, tiger," her dad says, opening the door for her and sending her out. "Love you!"

"Yeah, love you too," Cady says, briefly walking backwards to talk to them. She gives them a final wave before she turns around and starts running to her team's meeting spot. "Yeesh. I'm sixteen."

Regina, once again, chucks her costume at her as soon as she's within sight. Cady manages to catch it this time, and looks around for somewhere private to change. The only place is behind some trees, so she heads that way.

Regina's mom is a talented seamstress and tailored Cady's costume to fit her perfectly. Almost too perfectly. It's so tight against her chest and her belly that she can barely breathe, and the skirt juuuuust barely passes her bum. The candy cane-esque tights are all she has left to protect her modesty.

The shoes with pointy toes and jingle bells are a recent addition, and she jangles her way back over to her friends. "Hey."

"Hey!" Karen greets, too brightly for six in the morning.

"Are your costumes, like, really tight?" Regina huffs, shifting her arms around to try to stretch the fabric a little. "They were huge, my mom can't have fucked up the tailoring this bad."

"Mine's okay," Cady shrugs. Her hat jingles for emphasis.

"Ugh, I'm gonna go see if she has any safety pins," Regina grumbles. Cady's phone pings as she stomps off through the frost-covered grass.

jayjay: good mornin buttercup

cadygirl: >:|

jayjay: what ?

jayjay: not a good morning??

cadygirl: Sent a picture: It's 6 in the morning and I look like this

cadygirl: And I'm cold >:|

jayjay: aww

jayjay: someone's grumpy

cadygirl: Yeah >:||||

jayjay: steve and i will be there to see you

cadygirl: Yaaaaay 🥰🥰

jayjay: that easy to cheer you up huh

cadygirl: It'd be even easier if you bring me food

jayjay: little conwoman

cadygirl: Whaaaat nooooo

jayjay: i'll take you to breakfast after

jayjay: hobbit

cadygirl: Hey!!

jayjay: not because you're short

jayjay: this time

jayjay: bc they're hungry all the time

cadygirl: Oh

cadygirl: Still v rude of you

jayjay: if i take you to get a happy meal will that make up for it

cadygirl: Yes <333

jayjay: done

jayjay: see you soon peanut

cadygirl: See you soon gorgeous 😘

Cady suddenly feels much warmer as she puts her phone back into her bag. She and Gretchen glue each other's ears on and the whole team does a warmup and stretch routine together. Cady rolls out her wrists and finally smiles as she gets into her spot.

——

The parade is more fun than she was expecting. It's less intense than what she has to do at games, more walkovers and limbers than tucks and punches. She gets a little dizzy, and it's hard not to get run over by the float on the rare occasions she fumbles a landing, but it's still fun. For once, the smile on her face is genuine the whole time.

She waves dorkily when she passes her parents. They both have their phones held up to film and proud smiles beaming across their faces. They wave back just as dorkily before they duck out and are off to their seminar.

Cady doesn't get to do much in the way of the more limber skills anymore. It's fun. She kind of misses doing skills just for fun, for herself. As long as she stays in her spot she can do whatever she wants to. She does all sorts of front walkovers, back walkovers, aerials, the occasional handspring. It's refreshing.

Whenever they come to a stop is when things get interesting. Nobody wants to see a parade stuck in place, so they practiced lots of choreography for that. One of the floats ahead of them gets stuck on a corner, and Cady does a vaulted flip off of Regina's crouched form like a really, really elaborate game of leapfrog. Regina acts like she's dancing with her and whirls her back around so they're in their right spots before they get going again.

Towards the end of the parade, Cady hears a, "Hi Cady!"

She's not supposed to, but she looks over. Stevie is waving eagerly to her, her arm linked with one of her friends. Janis is behind her with a cute grin on her face as she sees Cady in all her elvish glory. Cady wiggles her fingers back in greeting, and kisses the tips of her fingers twice before blowing the kisses in their direction. Janis smiles wider and sneakily blows one back. Stevie just squeals and dances around with her friend. Cady adds a little more flair to her skills than she needs to just for them.

Things stop and start a lot more as the first floats get to the end of the parade route and have to navigate pulling off to the sides of the road or getting where they need to be. Cady and Regina do their series of tricks at least six times. They start adding little bits of flourish to it when it begins to feel boring and repetitive.

Apparently a little too much flourish. Regina does a dramatic turn before she crouches to be Cady's vault.

Cady's already running.

She has no time to stop as Regina's safety pin breaks.

And her costume comes off.

Regina screams and bends down to try to grab it. Cady slips on the fabric and goes head over heels the wrong way. Cameras are already out, pictures and videos being recorded. Apparently more people from North Shore make the trip out to see the parade than they thought.

But Cady can't hear the shutters clicking or the agitated murmuring over the pop her ankle makes as she lands, and the roaring of blood in her ears as a horrific pain radiates up her leg. No, no, no no no nononono.

One of the coaches was walking alongside the float in between them and the crowd to make sure it all went smoothly. She rushes up and helps Regina get herself situated. "You alright, Heron?"

Cady can only sob. My ankle is broken. My ankle is broken and it really hurts. My ankle is broken and I may never be able to tumble again. My ankle-

"Whoa, kid, hey," her coach says. "Can ya walk? Right flank, fall in! You're down a man!"

Cady hops and hobbles her way to the end of the route and sits down on the curb, cradling her ankle and sobbing.

"Are your folks around?"

Cady shakes her head. "Re-Regina's take-taking me home."

Her coach hums and nods. "She ran off. Hope she's okay, too. Dang, kid, that looks gnarly."

That only makes Cady cry harder. What if I just did my last flip?

"I'll uh... go keep an eye out for George," her coach says. She does have the decency to bring Cady her bag. Cady debates texting her parents to let them know, but they're probably already halfway to Peoria. And they were so excited about the keynote, she can't drag them away from that. She'll just have to suck it up.

The pain is... almost bearable. It's not, but she doesn't exactly have much choice. Her sobs slow, and before too long she's just sniffling on the side of the road and holding her sore leg.

She about jumps out of her skin when she hears a, "Caddy!"

"Jesus Christ, Janis! There's people around here!" Cady hisses. Janis' face falls a little.

"Sorry."

"What are you doing here?" Cady asks more gently.

"There's already like, seventy different people sharing videos of you and Regina falling, what the hell happened?"

"I think the Kälteen bars backfired," Cady sniffs, shutting one eye as a wave of pain radiates from her ankle.

Janis frowns. "What do you mean?"

"She's gained so much weight her costume didn't fit," Cady explains through half-grit teeth.

Janis snorts. Cady glares at her. "Sorry."

"She safety pinned it on and it broke and I slipped on the costume," Cady continues. "And I fucked up my landing and I think my ankle is broken."

"Yikes," Janis says in concern.

"She was supposed to take me home," Cady says, trying to stretch out her leg and wincing in pain. Janis winces too.

"Damian and I will take you to the hospital, don't worry about it," Janis says immediately.

"Don't- ow- don't you have Stevie with you?" Cady asks in concern.

"Nah, she wanted to go to her friend's house, I'm free of the child until tonight," Janis replies. "Can I see?"

Cady looks at her hesitantly. Janis looks back. She doesn't push. There are a lot of people around. But Cady needs the comfort of her girlfriend right now. She nods.

Janis carefully eases her stupid jingly boot off her foot, pausing whenever Cady makes a pained noise. By the end Cady has her bottom lip so firmly between her teeth she can taste blood and her eyes screwed shut. It's still not enough to stop a few pained tears slipping out and down her face.

It becomes quickly apparent that Janis has absolutely no idea what she's doing. She gives Cady's foot a gentle, inquisitive poke and pulls back like she's been burned when Cady squeaks in pain. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Cady says, looking at her through squinted eyes and trying to remember how to breathe.

"It's pretty swollen," Janis says in concern. "And bruising already."

Cady sniffs again, looking down at her stupid candy-cane patterned lap. Janis gently tips her chin up.

"It'll be okay, Cads," she murmurs.

"But what if it's not?" Cady hiccups. "What if I never walk on it again? What if I can never do another flip?"

"And what if it's totally fine? What if it turns out to just be a bad sprain and you're back on your feet in a week?" Janis retaliates.

Cady feels her lip tremble. Janis might be right.

But they both know she's not.

"They're coming, hide," Cady says when she hears the cheers coming down the road. Thank god Damian's almost here.

Janis looks at her oddly, sadly, but she obediently ducks behind the tree line to wait for the crowd of people they actually know to clear out.

"Cads! Hey, coach told me you fell, what the hell, babe?!" Damian says as soon as he sees her, sprinting full tilt over to her. "Oh, yikes."

"Is it bad?" Cady asks, feeling tears brimming behind her eyes yet again.

"It's not... great," Damian replies hesitantly. "Can you move it?"

Cady sniffles. "I don't know, I haven't tried."

"Can I?"

Cady nods. Damian carefully braces her ankle with his large, warm hand and gives her foot a gentle wiggle. Several people look in their direction at the noise Cady makes in response.

"Alright, well," Damian says in a voice a solid three octaves higher than normal.

"I'm sorry," Cady sobs.

"Babe, shh," Damian soothes. "I will donate you one of my feet if I have to. We'll go get you patched up and all that, don't worry about it."

"But how will you be a big Broadway star someday if you only have one foot?" Cady giggles wetly.

"I'll manage. Is that Janis peeping at me through the bushes over there?"

"Probably," Cady replies with another giggle. She turns around and sees a familiar pair of blue eyes poked out from behind a gnarled old tree trunk. Janis ducks back behind it when she sees she's been spotted, and Cady smiles. "Yeah. Dork."

Damian smiles too. "She really loves you. Let me text her so she doesn't get picked up for stalking or some shit."

"She does?" Cady sniffles.

"Girl, are you kidding? We haven't had a conversation where you haven't come up at least once since September," Damian says absently as he taps out a message to Janis.

Janis is close enough that they hear her phone ping and her muffled, "Shit!" Cady can't help but laugh.

"Alright, she'll meet us at the car and we'll take you to the hospital."

"Thanks, papa elf," Cady grins. Damian laughs and tosses Cady onto his back to carry her the half-mile back to the parking lot. "These bells are infuriating."

"I think they're fun," Damian replies, a hand over his heart. He wiggles his head to make his hat jingle for emphasis. Cady giggles.

"Thanks for taking me home. I dunno what happened to Regina," Cady says quietly.

"Nobody does, she disappeared after the... incident," Damian replies. Cady frowns.

"Weird."

"I took over on your side so it was still balanced, but apparently she just ran off naked through the woods. Guess you can cross that off your list," Damian says. Cady laughs.

"You make a great elf," she replies. "Your ear keeps poking me, though."

"Sorry," Damian chuckles. "Alright, madam, we have arrived at your chariot."

"'Sup nerds," Janis greets, pushing herself off Damian's mom's car with a small salute.

"Caddy gets front seat privileges, she's broken."

"Ugh!" Janis groans sarcastically. Cady giggles.

"Um, actually... can I sit in the back with you?" she mumbles shyly.

Janis smirks. "We gonna make out?"

Cady rolls her eyes. "Corndog."

"What?!" Damian giggles.

"Is that not right?" Cady replies shyly.

"Did you just call me a corndog?!" Janis cackles.

"Someone tell me what I meant to say!" Cady insists.

Damian barely manages to put her down safely before he almost collapses to the ground in laughter. "Did-did you mean horndog?"

"Yes!" Cady says. "Stop laughing, it's not funny!"

"Yes it is!" Janis chokes through her laughter.

"People are staring, shut up!" Cady hisses. "Stop laughing!"

"Okay, okay," Damian says, wiping tears from his eyes. "Get in, sluts and slurs."

As soon as the doors close, Janis and Damian burst into laughter again. Damian can barely turn the key to start the car, he's laughing so hard. "I didn't mean to say corndog, stop laughing."

"You're so cute," Janis hums, still giggling to herself. "How's the ankle doing?"

"Hurts," Cady sighs.

Janis pouts and pulls Cady into a cuddle. Cady leans into her shoulder with a wince as another burst of pain radiates up her leg. "Poor baby."

—-

After an interesting drive to the nearest urgent care, Janis scoops Cady out and carries her baby-style into the waiting room. The pain is starting to get to Cady again, and she winces and cries quietly as Janis cradles her in her lap.

Luckily, people are so focused on their own injuries or other ailments that two Christmas elves and their art freak barely catch their eye. There's a mother there with a clearly sick little boy snuffling into her shoulder, a duo of frat bros who are clearly drunk and each cradling one arm close to their chest, and an old man in the corner filling out a crossword puzzle from 2011.

"How did your hat survive that whole thing?" Janis asks as Damian plops into the seat next to them with Cady's paperwork.

"I glued it to my head," Cady sniffs. Damian drops his pen in shock.

"You what?!"

"Only in the front, I used clips in the back," Cady replies. Damian sighs and rests his hand on his chest.

"Do not scare me like that," he replies. "Cads, when's your birthday?"

"July thirtieth," Cady says softly.

"Hey, my birthday's in July too!" Damian says. "Twinsies."

Cady can't help but giggle at his desperate attempt to cheer her up. "When's yours?"

"The thirteenth," Damian says.

"Man, I'm still the baby!" Cady huffs. "Miss January over here."

"Not my fault my parents know how to celebrate Easter," Janis shrugs. Cady gasps.

"Janis Sarkisian, we are in public!"

"Whatcha gonna do about it, tiny?" Janis retaliates. "Since we are in public."

"Hmph," Cady grumbles. She cuddles closer into her girlfriend's warm neck.

"You okay?" Janis whispers against her forehead.

"Hurts," Cady whispers back. "Are they gonna see us soon?"

"Probably not," Janis sighs.

Damian goes to hand in her paperwork at the front desk. Beyond that, all they can do is wait.

-

And wait they do. But, eventually, a nurse calls Cady's name and Janis stands to carry her back. Damian follows quickly, running after them through the winding halls.

"Alright, what seems to be the problem?" the nurse says. She does a double take when she sees the elf with one shoe on sitting on the exam table. She snorts a quick laugh but bites her lip to stop herself.

"I think I broke my ankle," Cady says softly. The doctor looks down at her one exposed foot and winces.

"It looks like that might be the case, hon. What happened?" the nurse asks, taking Cady's vitals. "Cross your arm over your chest."

Cady does when she fastens a blood pressure cuff around her wrist. "Um, I was in the parade this morning and I slipped on... something. I fumbled a flip and landed on it weird."

"Did you hear a pop when you landed or was it just a feeling?"

"I heard something pop, and I can't put any weight on it," Cady says anxiously. "And it's a little numb, and kinda... tingly, I guess."

"Mm," the nurse hums. "I'm gonna try and move it a bit, you let me know if anything hurts, alright?" Cady nods and braces as the mere brush of her fingertips against her ankle sends more waves of pain flooding up her whole leg and out her toes. "That hurt?"

"Mmhmm," Cady squeaks.

"Hm," the nurse hums again. "I'm gonna get the doctor to get you an x-ray, alright?

"Thank you," Cady says. She looks down at her lap with a quiet sniffle. She shakes her other foot and humphs at the jingle she gets in response.

"You okay, Peanut?" Janis asks quietly.

"What if it is actually broken?" Cady asks desperately. "I'm the head flyer, broken bones take so long to heal! It'll be weeks before I'm back in, what are they gonna-"

"We have protocols for this kinda thing, Cads, it'll be okay," Damian says. "We get injured all the time. I broke my wrist cheering in middle school and everything was fine. You just gotta take your time to heal."

"But-"

"If it is broken and you try to do anything you could hurt yourself permanently," Janis says. "Repetitive fractures? You have to rest. And we don't know for sure that it's broken yet, it might just be a bad sprain."

Cady sighs and nods. "Thanks for coming with me."

"Anytime, babe," Damian says, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders and resting his head against hers. Cady blinks as his elf ear almost pokes her in the eye. Janis joins in too, and gets a jingle bell up the nose.

Her little crew gets left behind as Cady hops after the doctor towards the x-ray room. She holds as still as she can on the uncomfortable table and listens to the deafening clunks of the machine as it whirls around her foot. It's so loud she's a little worried it'll explode, but the doctor eventually returns from behind the lead partition and leads her back to her room to wait for the results.

It's a very quick wait.

"Your ankle is broken," the doctor says as soon as she walks into the room.

Cady feels her face crumple, and Janis wraps her in a tight hug as Cady lets out a quiet sob. "It's okay, Peanut, shh."

"It'll heal fine, no surgery needed. We call it a nondisplaced fracture, so none of your bones have actually moved out of where they're meant to be. You just need a cast for a little bit and you should be back to normal."

"So-so I'll still-still be able to-to cheer?"

"Not for six to eight weeks, but yes," the doctor replies with a smile. Janis squeezes her tighter as Cady releases a sob of relief.

"I told you," she murmurs, kissing Cady's cheek. Cady sniffles and leans into her shoulder. She needs Janis right now.

"Technically you broke your leg, the bottom part of your fibula here, and there's a hairline fracture in part of your tibia. But they're not displaced enough for you to need surgery, just a cast and no weight bearing for a good while."

"O-okay," Cady sniffs.

"You might wanna... de-elf yourself before we get the cast on, though. Unless you want to keep those tights for a few weeks."

Cady takes the wheel of possible cast colors and the pajamas Damian hands her from her bag. "These are cute! Where'd they come from?"

"Janis got them for me," Cady says with a sniffle as the doctor leaves and Janis and Damian both turn around to give her some privacy to change.

"Oh, did she now? How very soft of her," Damian hums. Janis shoves him. Damian sticks his tongue out in her general direction, unable to tell quite where she is with his hands firmly over his eyes.

"Shut up," Janis responds.

"Stop fighting, you can turn around now," Cady says once she's back in her comfy pajamas. "Which color cast should I get?"

"What's your favorite color?" Damian asks.

"Yellow," Cady replies.

"The purple is cool too," Janis says, tapping the little swatch of it. Cady nods.

Damian leans in close to see all the options. "I like the green."

"I like green," Cady acknowledges. "The Plastics will kill me if I get anything except pink, though."

"Pfft, who cares about them? Regina did this to you," Janis scoffs.

"Because we made her gain weight," Cady retaliates. "This light pink is cute."

"Do whatever you want, Cupcake."

"Cupcake?" Damian responds immediately, accompanied with a gag.

"Look at this little faaaaace," Janis coos, leaning harder into it and squishing Cady's cheeks rather than trying to fend off her friend. Cady goes along with it too, batting her eyelashes coquettishly at him. "Isn't she just the cutest widdle thing?"

"You two are gonna ruin my life together, aren't you?"

“Mm-hmm!" Cady hums happily, her cheeks still smushed in her girlfriend's hand. Damian rolls his eyes. Janis gives Cady's squished-out lips a kiss before she lets her go and smirks at her friend.

"You're the one who was literally speechless for four hours after we told you we were dating," she responds.

"I was in shock, shut up."

"Because your matchmaking never works?"

Damian huffs. "Whatever, it does."

"Name one time."

"This!" Damian insists, gesturing frantically between the two of them. Janis rolls her eyes.

"Whatever you say, Princess," she replies. Damian smiles.

"Thank you."

The doctor returns towards the tail end of that argument and shoots Cady a confused look. Cady just shrugs a little. She hands back all the cast swatches and goes with the light pink she had liked. She does really like it, and the Plastics won't crucify her for it. Well, they might anyway for what happened at the parade, and for needing a clunky, bulky cast in the first place. But at least this'll show she has decent taste and the ability to match.

Janis and Damian each take and squeeze one of her hands as her bones are painfully squished back where they need to be and wrapped in layers upon layers of fabric. The pink shell finishes the job, and Janis asks the doctor for a Sharpie so she and Damian can be the first to sign it.

"Do it small," Cady insists. Damian shoots her a strange look, but they both sign their names in the smallest letters they can right by her toes. Janis adds a little heart by hers for good measure. "Thanks, guys."

Cady gets fit for a set of crutches. It takes a while and she ends up with kids size ones, but eventually she's clicking slowly across the parking lot and finally on her way home.

"Jan, you wanna come over?" Damian asks. Cady pouts a little. She knows he and Janis are best friends, and that they definitely hang out without her sometimes, but it's not like Damian to ask with Cady right there.

"Nah, I gotta go get Stevie," Janis replies. Damian nods. Cady is confused when they pull into Janis' driveway. She should've been dropped off first. Her house is much further out of the way. "Bye Peanut."

Cady returns the kiss she gives. "Bye, baby."

Damian gags in the front seat. "Bye, dumbass."

"Bye, slut," Janis replies, blowing him a kiss as she climbs out of the car in the most complicated way she can and runs into her house.

Damian puts the car back in gear and keeps driving. Cady is more confused when they pull into his driveway. He turns the car off and gets out, leaving Cady alone in the backseat.

"You coming?" he asks, knocking on her window upon noticing she hasn't moved. Cady jumps.

“You're not taking me home?"

"I am not leaving you alone to navigate that house with one foot. But I'll take you home if you'd rather be there," Damian responds.

Cady shakes her head. "No. No, uh... thanks."

"Of course," Damian replies. "Now come on, cripple, my mom'll make us milkshakes."

"Your mom?" Cady asks with a smile.

"Oh, shit, you haven't met her yet! Uh, be ready for like, a lot of hugs. And she might cry. She's a big empath."

"Okay," Cady giggles. "She sounds great."

"She is," Damian says with a small smile. He unlocks the door and drops their stuff in the small area for shoes and coats and bags. "Ma, I'm home! And I brought Cady!"

Stanley comes running down the hall as soon as she hears the door. Damian protectively stands in front of Cady so the excited pup doesn't knock her over, but Cady smiles and rests her crutches against the wall so she can give the sweet little thing some scritches. "Hi, Stanley! How are you, baby girl?! Oh, yes, hi! I missed you too!"

"Stanley, gentle, Caddy's broken," Damian says. Stanley actually does calm a little bit, sniffing curiously at Cady and wagging her entire rear end instead of jumping on her like she did last time.

"Hey, baby girl!" Damian's mother greets, coming down the hallway in such a blaze of glory that it's immediately apparent where Damian gets his showmanship from. Cady looks up and smiles as she wraps him in a hug.

"Hi Ma," Damian responds, hugging his mom back and handing Cady her crutches again.

"How was the parade?" his mom asks, leading the two of them down the hall. She clocks Cady hobbling after them, then. "Ah."

"Yeah, she broke her ankle," Damian responds.

"At the parade?! Oh, honey!" his mom says immediately, wrapping Cady in such a tight hug she thinks she hears a few of her ribs pop. "You poor thing! Oh, come in, come in, sit down. Damian, help her to the living room, come on now."

"Can we go to my room instead?" Damian asks. His mom rolls her eyes.

"Yes, go ahead. It's on this floor, Cady, don't worry baby."

"Thanks, Ms. Hubbard," Cady replies with a smile. She gets another tight hug and actually has to cough a little when she's released to get her breathing back in a normal rhythm.

"Of course, baby! What kind of milkshakes do y'all want?"

"Oreo?" Damian suggests. Ms. Hubbard looks to Cady, and she nods eagerly. "Please."

"Coming right up."

"Thank you," Cady says as she's off back to the kitchen.

"Don't mention it, baby!" she calls back.

"Your mom is great," Cady says. Damian nods. Cady squeaks in surprise as he hauls her onto his back and starts carrying her down the hall towards his bedroom next to the garage.

"She is."

"She's very comforting," Cady continues. Damian nods again. "I see where you get it from."

"D'aww, thanks," Damian coos. He's actually blushing a little bit, and Cady smiles as he rests her down on his cushy bed. He fusses over her like a worried mother, helping her take her makeup and ears off as Cady looks around his bedroom for the first time. She's been here before for movie nights, but only ever in the basement.

None of the actual drywall is visible; completely plastered over with posters of drag queens and black-and-white photos of old Broadway stars. Cady can barely breathe for Judy Garland and Cher and RuPaul. There's fairy lights of all colors hanging from the crown molding, illuminating and twinkling over a full wall of Playbills in protective clear plastic sleeves. The furniture is a bit plain by comparison, but it all just feels like Damian's spirit has exploded into the room. It's amazing.

"Your room is so cool," Cady says.

"Thanks!"

"You have a lot of Playbills," Cady continues. "Have you actually seen that many shows?"

"God, no," Damian chuckles. "The top row there are the only ones I've seen in person, the rest are from eBay."

"Cool," Cady replies.

"Has Janis taught you about musicals yet?"

Cady shakes her head with a smile. "She said she wouldn't be able to do it justice."

Damian snorts. "Yeah, right. She just doesn't want to sit through them."

"She doesn't like them?"

"She only watches them once a year on my birthday and if I sing a lyric that could even approach being from a musical she'll punch me in the jugular."

"Really?"

Damian nods, fiddling with the mouse to wake up the computer and typing in his pin. "You've brought a lot of her walls down. So... thanks for that."

"I'm glad," Cady replies softly. "She deserves it."

"She does," Damian agrees. He shrugs suddenly. "Anyway, what do you want to watch?"

"You pick. I don't know anything," Cady giggles. Damian nods and opens a folder full of bootlegs. He murmurs the titles under his breath until he lands on a good first musical for her.

"Ooh! Okay, here, you'll love this one. The movie is good too, but the stage production is amazing."

Cady cuddles into his arm and peeks at the file name. She squeals, "Lions?!"

"Lions is an understatement for The Lion King," Damian says. Cady wiggles excitedly as he opens it and makes it full screen. "Can you see?"

"Mmhmm. Thanks, D."

"Anytime, Little Slice."

His mom pops in with their milkshakes a few minutes in and seems completely unphased seeing her son cuddled up with a girl she's known for fifteen minutes. Apparently this is normal for him. "Thank you, Ms. Hubbard."

"You're welcome, sweet girl. Y'all just holler if you need anything, alright? Ooh, Lion King. That's a good one," she replies as she leaves again.

"Cady's from Kenya," Damian explains.

"No shit?" his mom replies, making Cady choke on her milkshake in shock.

"Um, yeah, I just moved here this summer," she says.

"Ain't that something. Alright, have fun, you two."

"Thanks, Ma," Damian says as she shuts the door behind her.

They sip at their tasty milkshakes while they watch. Cady might be in love. She's immediately bopping along to all the musical numbers and oohing and aahing over the special effects.

Damian looks at her expectantly when the curtain call is over.

"That was so cool!" she squeals. "Can we watch it again?"

Damian laughs. "I'm glad you liked it. You like musicals now?"

Cady nods eagerly. "Yeah."

"Good," Damian says with a victorious smirk. He takes a picture of them cuddled up together and sends it to Janis with a caption reading, I win Caddy likes musicals. He gets an eye roll emoji in response and clicks off his phone with a smug grin. "Let's try something else, but we'll come back if you want to after."

"Okaaaaay," Cady huffs jokingly.

They watch about four more, occasionally shifting positions to keep comfy on Damian's plush bed. The milkshakes are long gone, but neither of them care.

"Thanks for taking care of me," Cady murmurs after the last one. Damian gently bumps into her.

"Anytime. Sorry Janis was busy, I know she wanted to be the one to kidnap you."

"No, it's okay," Cady says immediately. "I love her, but she'd be so worried she'd barely let me move. Not that that's bad, she's just... a lot, sometimes."

"You love her, eh?" Damian teases. Cady blushes. "Oh, shit, do you?"

"I mean... we've only been dating for a month," Cady begins hesitantly. "But... I might... already love her, like, a lot."

"D'aaawww, my little gaybies," Damian squeals.

"Shut up," Cady scoffs.

"She loves you too," Damian says matter-of-factly.

Cady looks at him. "She does?"

"I told you earlier. This bitch will not shut up about you. I've never seen her like this. It's kind of freaky," Damian chuckles. "Always, have you seen Caddy's eyes up close? They're such a pretty green. And she's sooooo tiiiiny, she just fits in my arms like a puzzle."

"She did not say that."

"On RuPaul she did."

Cady blinks. "Did I break her?"

"Honestly? Maybe. But I like it. She's annoying sometimes, but this Janis seems... healthier."

"Good," Cady replies.

"You, on the other hand," Damian replies, looking pointedly at her left foot. Cady giggles.

"It's fixed, I'll be okay," she replies.

"You got lucky there, kid. I really thought you were gonna need surgery," Damian says.

"I did too, honestly," Cady admits.

"...And now I think about it, Regina is a little chubbier."

"Right? It totally worked!" Cady squeals. Damian laughs. "Now we just have to get people to stop treating her like the queen bee and get Aaron out of her clutches."

"Godspeed, soldier. Doing the lord's work," Damian says with a salute. Cady giggles. "Do you, like, wanna go home?"

Cady sighs. "I should."

"Bitch, is that what I asked? Do you want to or not?" Damian insists.

"I mean... it's always weird there without my parents," Cady mumbles, fidgeting with her fingers. "But I don't wanna impose."

"Hold on," Damian says. Cady jumps when he turns his head to the side and hollers, "Ma!"

"What?!" his mother yells back.

"Can Cady sleep over?!"

"Her folks okay with it?!"

"Your folks okay with it?" Damian asks Cady in a much, much softer tone. Cady nods in confusion. Damian yells back, "Yeah!"

"Then she's always welcome! Dinner's in half an hour!" his mom replies.

"Thank you!" Cady yells.

"You're welcome, baby!"

"See? Problem solved," Damian says. Cady giggles.

"You're the best, D."

"And don't you forget it."

————-

thank you for reading!!

i have a oneshot coming for y'all on wednesday that i'm very (cautiously) excited about and am working myself to the bone trying to get the next chapter of this and another oneshot done per my usual "schedule" if you can call it that lol.

i apologize for not being more prepared but i spent most of february auditioning for the tour!! so that took a lot of my focus but it's done now and i am back in as full of a swing as i can get lol.

so fingers crossed! and if i don't get it done in time you'll just get three of each with my next round of fics :)

thank you all so much again for being here. i love every little one of you muppets so dearly.

lots of love,

ezzy

[illusion-of-death]

Hiya! How's about 3, 5, 12, 13, 19, 21, & 23 for that ask meme? :D

Fandom ask game: x

3. All-time favorite pairing? I've answered this one already (Daruk and Urbosa QPR), but if I had to pick a close second, I think I might have to say Yasha and Beauregard from Critical Role. You can just never go wrong with those two.

5. Favorite platonic pairing? I have SO many of these because basically everything I ship is some form of QPR. But if we're talking just two besties being pals (in a very literal sense), I get a lot of enjoyment from the Link and Riju dynamic (again with the Zelda characters, I know, but if you take a look at my AO3 you can probably understand why).

12. Craziest thing you've ever done as part of a fandom? Not sure if this was exactly a 'part of a fandom' thing, but one time in high school I got into an argument with a substitute teacher about a minor character in King Lear, which we were not reading for his class, and got so mad that I went home that night (it was the Friday before a three-day weekend) and showed up Tuesday morning with a six-page paper citing multiple sources detailing why he was wrong. Thankfully he was still there to tell me it was the most iconic thing a student had ever done to him. That guy was the best.

13. Fandom you've been part of the longest? I think the answer to this might technically be Final Fantasy VII, but FFVI is definitely the one that had the most impact on me in those early days.

19. Fanfic you read again and again? At the risk of sounding like I'm tooting my own horn: mine. It was written precisely with my tastes in mind, after all! Besides that, I'll occasionally go back through my bookmarks and reread oneshots I enjoyed, though I don't think I've ever revisited a multichapter more than once.

21. Favorite fic trope? SO MANY. I'm a particularly big fan of 'introspective character studies that are extremely thinly-veiled disability metaphors', if that counts? Or, if you're asking for something easy to describe and commonly tagged: hurt/comfort.

23. Age when you started reading fanfic? I was probably about 11 when I was introduced to the term "fanfiction" and started seeking out and reading it in online spaces, but I definitely wrote my own/read what other kids at school were writing long before I fully understood what we were doing.

Thanks for asking!

[haldenlith]

Some people are probably tired of me shouting into the void about this, but my mind is buzzing angrily about it.

Quick context: I am going back to school, so I can have a nice shiny piece of paper that says I'm a "Super Legit Know What I'm Talking About, I Paid Thousands For This Stupid Piece of Paper" Graphic Designer. (To be fair I've actually learned a lot so far.)

I'm in this one "distance learning" (ie online) class, "Typography II". We were given a big project that was very obviously our Final at the beginning of the year, in January. It was to write/research and design an entire book, 40-page minimum (including covers and table of contents). It came due last week. (I was very much done and submitted before then, because I was very In The Zone with this project. Unsure about sharing it here because it has my name on it, but I might share the link in a DM if you ask. I think I wrote a pretty compelling typography book.)

We're then assigned people to do critiques on (to ensure everyone gets critiqued by two people). I check so that I can do my critiques.

Let me tell you what. I just about hit the ceiling. Five-ish people, including myself, turned the assignment in. (Or at least turned it in on time.) Hell, of what was turned in, I think, aside from myself, only two other people put any amount of research into their book topic (WHICH WE CHOSE, they weren't even assigned! We got to pick whatever we wanted as long as we could relate it to typography!). And honestly, only one other student, from reading their book, felt like they put any actual effort into it at all. (Her book was simple, but very nice.) The other... read like he got bored half-way through his own research, because he had like a handful of sources and a whole bunch of paragraphs that were just him repeating himself, just paraphrased, in a very obvious "I need to hit the 40-page minimum" attempt.

Another person had a nice looking book, but it was filled with Lorem Ipsum filler text. Another was maybe two pages of research, and then the entire rest of the book was just a picture book.

I just... what.

We had three months -- THREE MONTHS -- to do this. Three. Tres. Ninety whole ass days. We had FOUR check-ins during the course of those three months, to show our progress and how we're doing, and a FIFTH optional check-in that wasn't graded. It was there so that we could ask for help if we needed it. The professor even asked the class if the due dates were too tight (we also had other exercises and projects to do in the meantime while we did this in the background), if the class was going too fast, and they needed more time... Short of doing it in interpretive dance in front of a neon flashing sign, I don't know how more obviously she could've asked, "Hey, this is your sign to speak up if you're having issues."

This is technically an upper level course. This is also a class you can't take without taking Typography I, which was set up THE EXACT SAME WAY. This is also an elective class specifically for Graphic Design Degrees at my uni. You're not here unless you intend to be a designer.

It's just insulting to see, en masse, everyone just go "nah". They're wasting my time because I have to struggle to critique whatever is going on with those that DID submit. They're wasting the professor's time by sitting in her class and not doing the work. They're wasting another student's time by taking up a seat that could've been filled by someone else. They're wasting their own time being there and going through the motions (some of them had some really interesting progress shots to show of their book during the check-ins), but not following through.

They're also wasting money, because the class is like... $400-ish, so, you know.

It's also insulting considering the sheer amount of work I put into my own submission. It feels like researching and making a gourmet three-course meal to the best of my ability to impress a cooking show judge with, but then looking over and seeing half the competition hasn't even bothered to make anything, and the other half has a stale, cold burger off the McDonald's dollar menu.

I know I shouldn't care, because it doesn't entirely affect me at the end of the day (though I do have to suffer through trying to critique it or get marked off). But still, it's just... mind blowing to me.

[defira85]

What would you recommend to someone thinking about starting with swtor in this day and age?

Huh that's actually a really good question, and it probably doesn't help that I've not been active for the last two years (they made some fairly substantial gameplay changes to the combat that I didn't like the sound of on paper, I have no personal experience with how it's played out and whether folks think it worked out well in the long term)

I'll put this under a cut to spare people's dashes, and if any friends have their own recommendations based on current gameplay and gearing PLEASE feel free to chip in:

The game has free to play options, and in theory it's entirely possible to play up to the fourth (fifth?) expansion without paying a cent. I don't necessarily think it's particularly as fun as it could be on F2P, because obviously they make things just that little bit more frustrating to try and coax you into spending money, but it's not bad. Just a little slower to progress. And really, if you're not sure if you want to invest in the game (time or money wise), downloading the F2P is a good trial move, because the base game is hands down superior to most of the expansions

There are 8 possible origin stories to choose from - four Republic aligned, and four Imperial aligned. Despite stylistically being the same 4 classes, the story telling has always been the strength of the game and the 8 original classes are all fantastic in their own ways. Admittedly, ask 8 people what they think the best or worse class story is and you'll get 8 different answers. I personally rank the Smuggler (a Han Solo-esqye self insert) as my least favourite, but I've got plenty of friends who think it's the best story. I would die for my Jedi Knight but I think the writing from the story is pretty outrageously bad in places. The Sith Warrior class story changed my life. So did the Imperial Agent, but again, I know people who think they're overrated. Just go with your heart and see what appeals to you when it introduces the class options

There are nine packs that I would consider expansions (more if you include mini gameplay expacs that introduced things like starfighter combat, they always have little brief story quests to explain their origin):

Rise of the Hutt Cartel (adds planet Makeb)

The Dread War (adds planet Oricon, technically a continuation of RotHC but different enough in scope that I would count it as separate)

Shadow of Revan (adds two planets, Rishi and Yavin 4)

Rise of the Emperor (adds planet Ziost, technically a continuation of SoR like TDW was for RotHC)

Knights of the Fallen Empire

Knights of the Eternal Throne

Fractured Alliances (technically a continuation of the last two, but adds Iokath as a playable area)

Onslaught (adds three planets Ossus, Onderon, Mek'Sha)

Legacy of the Sith (have not played so not sure!)

KotFE and KotET moved away from planetary expansions and did chaptered missions, so you couldn't visit the areas of the story unless you replayed the chapter, which was a pain if you enjoyed just running around exploring. Technically we got new planets Zakuul, Odessen and Iokath in those expansions, and Iokath did eventually introduce daily missions and explorable areas, but it wasn't the most popular addition to the canon

I personally enjoy KotFE and KotET because of the amount of time I invested in telling my character's stories in that time period, but I think that Shadow of Revan/Rise of the Emperor had the more compelling storytelling and gameplay. Rishi is for sure my favourite planet in the game, although Onderon comes close and I'm sure Zakuul would've won if we got more ability to just run around and explore

Basic gameplay is pretty straight forward if you've ever played an RPG or MMO before. It's entirely possible to play the vanilla stories without ever needing to play any group content, and you can just treat it like a solo player game with some extra fidgety NPCs in the background of your scenes and pretend they aren't other players. The group content - flashpoints (4 players) and operations (8 or 16 players)- are for the most part pretty great, and a lot of their stories bring more clarity to the main game. As the game gets into the expansions, they start introducing solo player flashpoints which then become the chaptered mission when you get to KotFE.

You also get access to companions right from your first planet, which is great! Every class starts with 5 companions, and that number grows as you get into the expansions. Some of the companions can be romanced, although unfortunately everyone was straight-gated up until Shadow of Revan. After that, earlier companions have occasionally been rewritten to be available to all genders, but not all of them which is frustrating at times. The relationships you build with the companions - whether it's romance or friendship or intense loathing - is genuinely such a great feature of the game, and it's something the later expansions have suffered from, not having your core team around you anymore.

SPEAKING OF, I WILL WARN YOU UP FRONT, SHAE IS NOT A ROMANCE OPTION :P I just don't happen to believe in being restricted to canon when it comes to these sorts of things. She's an NPC, and you can flirt with her now and then in the later expacs, but she's not smoochable.

I can't comment on the current combat system, or the current gearing system, as I've been out of active play for the last few years (ESO got me good) but I hear they've worked out some of the kinks from the revamp. I wasn't overly thrilled with it, as I've played fairly consistently since launch and this was going to be about the fifth complete overhaul of the combat and gearing since launch and after going to the trouble of getting all your characters the best gear multiple times only to be told you have to start from scratch AGAIN wears a little thin after awhile. But! If you're not planning on hardcore raiding, gearing changes shouldn't be that much of an issue

The housing system is fun but there's no real way to decorate well without pumping a lot of your own money into the game which is shitty. I've seen the light in ESO's crafting and being able to craft my own furniture is game-changing

Space combat is a nightmare. My spatial awareness becomes non-existent once I have to steer in a three dimensional space. I have one friend who loves it and used to play constantly but I couldn't ever get used to it

PVP is eh. I've had more fun in PVP in other games, but it's not bad.

The crafting system is fun, but unless you're making your own healing packs or dyes, its not really worth much. Sending your companions off on crafting missions can be fun though, as they come with teensy little snippets of lore and some of them are funny or intriguing. It can get expensive real fast though

The only thing I would caution against is that they've made some fairly unpopular changes just in the last month regarding the cost of quick travel to try and rein in the bloated in-game economy and it seems to have been implemented poorly and unfairly effects low to mid tier players as opposed to the high end players

If you have any questions after all of that, let me know! AND GOOD LUCK!!!

[otogariado]

15 questions!

supposed to be 15 mutuals too but i'm still too shy to tag people on this blog BUT if you don't mind getting tagged in posts like this then feel free to like this post & i'll tag you in the future. teehee

i was tagged by @stripesysheaven 💖💖 thank you

1. are you named after anyone?

my deadname is probably inspired by some french royalty. i did nickname myself after a videogame protagonist though, even though i don't use that nickname much any more

wait actually i'm vaguely remembering smth abt my mom supposedly naming myself after a local actress. that works too if that's true

2. when was the last time you cried?

very recently because i was very sad. but also it's easy for me to cry bc of stuff i watch. i teared up during three different moments while watching the new puss in boots movie

3. do you have kids?

no. probably never. it's a very big responsibility

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

not a lot, just sometimes. usually just to be funny or when i'm ranting to someone abt an anecdote in private. i like making it apparent when i do though. "i DONT use sarcasm at all NOT using it right now. what makes you say that"

5. what sports do you play/have you played?

recently competed in badminton doubles!! with strangers i met like minutes before the matches started haha. we were short on people. i'm not Very Good at any particular sport but i'll play most things for fun. i miss doing frisbee class

6. what's the first thing you notice about other people?

i'm always So Scareds of people so it's hard to answer this question... probably the way they speak? i don't have to be looking at people to notice that

7. what's your eye colour?

almost black, deep brown thangs

8. scary movies or happy endings?

schmaltz forever

9. any special talents?

i can follow sheet music on the spot (just give me the pitch and i'm good) and i'm good at bullshitting melodies i've never sang before

10. where were you born?

born and raised and still here in the philippines

11. what are your hobbies?

watching shows and movies and getting incredibly emotionally attached to fictional characters and thinking about them too hard is my #1 hobby. aside from that i like listening to video essays/podcasts, drawing, writing... i also like walking. once i learn how to ride a bike i'd like to do that regularly too

i need more physical crafty hobbies, i just don't have the space/space management skills to do them rn... i used to do a lot of paper crafting as a kid

12. do you have any pets?

toothless is a... tuxedo cat? he's technically my grandpa's but i consider him my little guy too

they're my cousins' but i also live with two dogs :) toffee (middle) who is a very bitey puppy. he's aspin but he probably has some fancy breed in his blood or smn bc his fur is very soft. and betsy (right, jailed for crimes. she doesn't mind) is a shih tzu and they've had her for a few years now C:

13. how tall are you?

i hate checking my height cz i might shrink again. probably around 5'6"

14. favorite subject in school?

i loved math and science in grade school. in high school i enjoyed lit a lot more. pending answer for college lol

15. dream job?

my cousin once brought up the idea of us owning a bar/cafe/resto thing together. it would be nice!

[twimshi]

PLATONIC REIGEN X READER

In which Reigen and YN make a bet

A snippet of chapter 5 of chilli flakes on AO3. The current chapter takes place in middle school

“No I don't get it, run me over your plan again"

“All...I'm saying h-hah god...is that we should participate in the twin bicycle competition f-for our hah school, I hate the stairs”

Reigen stared at her suspiciously “YN….you are literally out of breath as we speak.”

The school cultural festival was starting soon, everyone was getting ready to make their fair buck for their own booth. They had walked past the school bulletin board while taking out the trash and saw the sign.

Come all students, let's all participate in the once a year school canteen program !! where you show off your class’s hidden talents

You can sell food, open cafes, and many more (with terms and conditions) 

YOU CAN ALSO COMPETE IN OUR ANNUAL WRITING/BAKING/COOKING COMPETITION THAT WILL BE HELD IN OUR SCHOOL’S AUDITORIUM 

 

YN turned a blind eye while Reigen saw the reward.

Students can win prizes such as a 

-10000YEN

-5000YEN

-Second-hand camera

 

He totally wanted one of them, Reigen grabbed one of the posters, ripping it from the school board. It might be vandalism, but nobody was there to see, so it's not technically vandalism.

Reigen then shook YN, who was beside him “YN LOOK!” He shoved the piece of paper in her face “I can't exactly see anything...IF YOU'RE SHOVING IT IN MY FACE” She comically yelled back, snatching the piece of paper “Okay...and?” 

“Is that the only reaction you're gonna give me?” He said he wasn't getting a reaction, so he placed the paper in his hand pointing “Idiot, look at the prize.”

YN rolled her eyes before letting them wonder about the paper “So? Reigen Arataka, we need'th not spend our time on such childish activities” she gripped the paper and started glowing.

The school’s way of competition was super rigged, Komina participated in all three competitions which were not allowed but she did anyway. Every year, Komina (a mean girl) would win just because that's why YN was so hesitant in joining.

"You can do it, but I am not" She makes a serious face.  

“C'mon YN doesn't give me that look, I know you want to participate” She giggled “Was my tsundere look that convincing?” 

“Please, you couldn't even fool a fly” In reality, Reigen was totally not fooled by YN’s acting skills and did not in fact get worried. 

YN and Reigen walked down the halls, skipping club activity to hide in a secluded part of the school where no teachers would walk since it was ‘haunted’ but the two teens lived for the unknown and just went along.

This was a routine for Reigen and YN, skip club, hang out, gossip about the art teacher and so on - they would smuggle PokeMob cards inside the sole of their shoes to get away with bringing what the school likes to call ‘contraband’

“Anyways….Are you serious about this?” YN quired taking a right “Yeah for sure, I was thinking you could participate in the pie-making comp-”

“Since when were you deciding my plans Arataka? We’re not even married yet”

“U’huh okay anyways, you always talked about how your grandma made pies, I thought we could y’know do that” They reached towards a door that was loose enough for them to squeeze their tiny bodies between

YN looks at him thoughtfully before replying “Well, I do…..but it's not that often..” 

“I pay attention... when you ramble” 

“Sap” Cute

“Shut up” He gently shoved YN and got their PokeMob cards ready to play.

YN pondered while shuffling her deck, if she were to participate in this competition she would have to ask her mother for money for the ingredients since she highly doubted the school could prepare jack shit for them.

“Hmm, I’ll think about it” She placed her fully evolved Magikarp down to eliminate Reigen's legendary “Pikachu'' card “You may win with luck my friend but…..never underestimate me at a card game.”

Reigen laid his head on the wall, hitting it in the process “Dangit! I thought I had this one” Every time they would play PokeMob YN had instantatioly won every game she played with Reigen, the game was more on intuition than luck - which normally would work in Reigen's favor, but sadly, YN was a God.

She grabbed a deck of cards, holding it as if she was a news reporter “Incoming news, REIGEN FUCKING SUCKS AND.I.RULE” She shoved all her glory in Reigens face, which to be fair was quite an amusing sight.

RING

 

“That's our queue to leave” They packed their belongings and made their way carefully towards to main school grounds, fortunately all the teachers were zombies t notice the teens make their way out of the closet together “I have made my decision Arataka” she stopped mid-walk that also made Reigen stop in his tracks.

“I’ll be participating in the pie competition~” She was going to do this for many reasons, to make her granny proud and…

“In return, if I do~” 

“Huh, what do-” She shushed him with her finger “Shush dear boy, I mean if I win at least third you will be my wife” Reigen was in disbelief, he shook his head frantically “No no nope” He said, popping the ‘p’. He wasn't mad, just confused? “What do I even get out of this?” He wasn't mad, it was just confusion?

“Simple. If you win, then I’ll be your wife”

Reigen did not just blush, he was absolutely not embarrassed.

He was now shushing her “D-Don't say that type of things” God why was YN so shameless at times like this.

“Psh, c’mon Juliet~ I want to teach you something today, let's go” They walked out of school, Reigen knew YN didn't mean much from what she said, knowing the girl she could accidentally tell a student she had a pole and everyone would think she actually had POLIO which was completely off - but since some of her classmates would mishear her over the recess they thought otherwise and showed up to her table with flowers and goodbye cards. This may or may not have happened last month, they don't talk about it.

A small rustle and giggle could be heard from behind them, Reigen snapped his head left and right to see if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation, there was no one.

The duo set their way towards the local market before heading to their little spot, scanning the foods YN decides not to buy anything as Reigen buys his soft drink. Setting it on the counter he looks at the girl “You not buying anything YN?”

“..Nah, I wanna save it for another day” Reigen shrugged, a little suspicious of her action, he did know how to read people after all.

He grabbed a chocolate bar and placed it on the counter “Hey I'm not buying anything-”

“Uhuh, you say that now but come steal my food, don't worry about it. It's on sale anyways” YN looked slightly guilty but did not reject the offer. 

They both skipped to the garden eating/drinking their snacks to only get stomach cramps on their sides “We should not have skipped-ow” YN clutched her stomach as Reigen and her limped their way to a dry flower patch to sit down

“Soo, what do you have in mind we do today?” YN reached to her pocket pulling out tomato seeds “Well, i thought maybe since I've been here for what 69 years we should-”

“YN that is not possible-”

“Shush boy, as I was saying. I always respected this place, watering the plant and stuff and maybe I want to leave my mark here. Hence, this” She waved the seeds in front of him 

Reigen squinted his eyes “You want to plant a….what is that?” 

YN called him over to the soil patch “Well these my friend, are daisies” Reigen let her continue “I heard that their super low maintenance and look” she pointed at the sidewalk of the entrance “They even grow on concrete”

“Why do you even have seeds in the first place?”

“Well for starters it's just the yellow part of the flower and I walk to school and collect them”

Reigen thinks, then replied shrugging his shoulders “Sounds weird but I guess that's nice, we ought to decorate this place with some of our things anyways”

“Woah daisies are pretty rough huh, the government should use them for war and….stuff” They both thought about bombing Komina’s house at that moment but didn't fancy the thought of cleaning up Komina’s body. Well YN thought that, not Reigen.

YN digs a small hole trying to loosen the soil a little, Reigen placing the seeds in before covering them in soil “I think that ought to do it” She says admiring her handicraft “Now we have to water it every dayyyyy”

“Dude we come here like...almost every day”

“True……” YN leaned on him with her dirty soil-filled hands “Then?”

He just looked away, his face scrunched up “Ugh, I didn't want to say this now but it's about my mom...” YN didn't move, still on him “Oh yes Mrs.Mom, what did she have to say? I hope I get more leftovers, my mom hasn't been cooking much lately”

A sigh left his mouth, it was dry despite him drinking only a minute ago “I don't...don't know if we can hang out after this month a lot…” YN got up “If you want space I totally don't-”

“No! That's not it...It's…..It's about me and you changing…. OH yea I don't wanna miss watching adventure mob, yea adventure mob, we won't be able to record it” It was a lie but he couldn't tell her, not yet - another time, not when their friendship is on the line

YN sighed in relief. She knew he might be hiding something, but maybe he wasn't. She was being a little too paranoid. Slapping Reigen in the back, she laughed “Phew dude, you scared me for a second, getting all serious and stuff”

He tried to laugh, but it came out sounding like a choking cat “H-hehe, totally..” Changing the topic he chirps in “So you're participating in the pie competition?”

“Oh yeah, I am. You're doing the essay one, right?”

The knots in his stomach grew “Yup, I'm a little worried”

“Why? You're on top of the class for your amazing essays, I'm sure you can write an amazing story or something”

The way she worded it seemed so easy. “Yeah but….what if..” 

What if he couldn't do it? What if he just made a fool of himself? What if-

She stroked his hair gently, pulling him out of his thoughts “Hey ‘Taka, if anyone were to win that competition and make me their wife, I'm sure it's you”

The way she so shamelessly said it made Reigen not react, he was going to make her proud.

He leaned into her touch, taking a deep breath while taking her hand in his, shaking in an awkward position with a smile.

“May the best wife win”

[Hope you guys enjoy this!! Tiny reigen and YN bring me so much joy I can't even explain it, and yes platonic is like the best way to go with these cuties]

[motownfiction]

the spoon end of a slurpee straw

When Lucy gets back home, she’s impressed to find that Will has already made good headway in preparing for Elenore’s birthday party tonight. The streamers are up, the balloons are tied around the chairs, and the snacks and drinks are on the table, waiting to be opened. Right now, Will sits in the corner of their basement apartment, filling bags of party favors. Lucy stands over him and grins.

“Are you making party favors for adults?” she asks.

Will looks up and smiles at her.

“Sort of,” he says.

“Explain yourself.”

“So, yes, the only guests at this party are other adults … and my sisters, but I’m pretty sure they were all born twenty, so by that logic, Claire is thirty-two.”

“You’ve said.”

“Right. But then I thought … just because we’re all technically adults doesn’t mean we’re not in need of party favors. So I picked up some bags and threw candy in ‘em.”

“Mmm-hmm. Sam asked you to do that, didn’t he?”

“Well, he said it was a joke, but then he dared me.”

Lucy laughs. She bends down to where Will sits and kisses him for a second or two … long enough to distract him from the treat bags and long enough to distract her from the grade she’s been obsessing over on the whole trip home.

“Where’s Elenore?” Lucy asks.

“Your parents took her to get a Frosty,” Will says. “I don’t know why I let them if she’s just going to have cake at the party.”

“It’s OK,” Lucy says. “It’s her birthday-ish. She understands.”

“She’s three years old.”

“Yeah. She’s three years old, not a jackass. Believe me. She understands.”

Will smiles and goes back to filling the treat bags with little packages of Skittles. Lucy wanders over to the bookshelf and wonders what her first book of the summer should be, besides The Madwoman in the Attic. Maybe she’ll put that one off. Something in her gut makes it seem scary, and for a second, she isn’t really sure why.

“Hey, did you get that paper back?” Will asks.

Lucy’s heart drops again.

She remembers now.

“Um, yeah,” she says. “I went with Mariam to Dr. Fine’s office. We … we got them.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Will says. “How’d you do? 100? 101?”

“You can’t get 101, Will.”

“That’s not true. You got 101 on your paper about … oh, what was it, last year … that poem about how learning is dangerous.”

“Alexander Pope. And that was an intro class. My professor didn’t expect anybody to be good. He didn’t even know about my parents.”

“Well, either way. How’d you do on this one? I know how excited you were while you were writing it.”

Lucy feels like she could throw up, right there, all over the birthday party decorations. She was excited as she wrote that paper. She learned all about the size of the needles they had to use in late Victorian blood transfusions, and how their large size evoked more penile imagery than the relatively small needles they use today. She spent hours annotating every little thing Freud said about latent and manifest content and even more hours trying to “translate” Kristeva to ordinary vernacular. Lucy worked harder on that single paper than she’d ever worked on an assignment in her life, and in 1976, she turned in a diorama about the United States Constitution with fully lit sparklers to her third-grade teacher. She hangs her head. What a time that had been. What a different girl she had been … the kind of girl who wouldn’t have dreamt of getting a 93%, even in her scariest nightmares.

In a way, she knows she’s being maudlin about this.

But in another way, she’s humiliated and angry and doesn’t know how she’s going to make it through her daughter’s birthday party without thinking about this … failure.

“Right,” Lucy finally says. “Well … I definitely learned a lot.”

Will furrows his brow and stands up to meet Lucy in the middle of the room. She feels her skin grow cold. Great. He knows something’s wrong. Will always knows when something is not right.

“What does that mean?” he asks. “Oh, man. Did you get a B?”

Lucy’s pretty sure her eyes pop right out of her head like a cartoon character. It takes every mature fiber in her body not to fall to her knees right now (but damn, if there’s not a part of her that wants to).

“No!” she hisses. “How could you even say that?”

“I don’t know!” Will says. “You’re not answering the question, which means you don’t want to … which, for a normal person, would mean you failed. But you’re you. So I wondered if you got a B.”

“Stop saying it! You’re going to put it out into the universe!”

“That’s not how this works! Either you tell me what you got on the paper, or I keep guessing, which you don’t seem to want me to do!”

Lucy sighs. She puts her hands on her hips and waits a long time, almost convincing herself that if she’s silent long enough, she’ll somehow change her grade.

“OK, fine,” she says. “If you want to know what I got, I’ll tell you what I got. Mariam and I picked up our papers today. She got a 94. And I … I got a 93.”

Will looks at Lucy like he’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel. Lucy can’t blame him. The logical part of her – the real part of her, the part of her that usually takes the lead – knows that she is being ridiculous. But the part of her that’s scared, that’s underdeveloped, that’s more childish than her three-year-old daughter has ever been … that part just can’t seem to shut up.

“Is that … is that bad?” Will finally asks.

“It’s an A minus, Will,” Lucy snaps. “Of course it’s fucking bad. It’s poison. If I apply to some place like Yale or even NYU with a grade like that … they’ll laugh me out of the room.”

“Well, OK, we haven’t talked about Yale or NYU,” Will says, unsurprisingly focused on the wrong thing. “But I … it’s one paper, right?”

“Technically. But it’s the most advanced paper I’ve written to date. And if I blew it this badly, right out of the gate, with only a year and a half until I’m supposed to send out applications for a master’s degree … how am I ever supposed to make it? How is anyone supposed to look at me and say, ‘Yeah, I can see her becoming a professor?’”

“I think you’re thinking about 20,000 leagues into the future.”

“Life’s about the future, Will. It’s about doing things right now to make sure that tomorrow doesn’t suck. And if I’m still an A minus student by December of this year, then my tomorrow is going to suck like the spoon end of a Slurpee straw.”

Will puts his hands on Lucy’s shoulders and kisses her – firm and with purpose, the best kind of kiss, especially from Will. When he lets go, Lucy fights with her own grin.

“Great,” she says. “I’m the kind of woman who needs her husband to kiss her and calm her down. I might as well drop out of school and change my last name to O’Connor because that’s what I’m worth.”

“I’m gonna try not to be offended by that,” Will says. “Look, I know you’re upset. But I also know that you know you’re overdoing it.”

Lucy sighs. She hates that he’s right.

“OK, so maybe I am,” she says. “But why do I do that?”

“I don’t know,” Will says. “I guess that’s something you have to figure out. But can you promise me something? Please?”

“Sure.”

“Can you at least pretend like you’ve got it figured out at Elenore’s party? She picks up on people’s moods, and I know you don’t want her to have a bad time.”

Lucy exhales again. Even standing in the midst of all these party decorations, she keeps almost forgetting that tonight is Elenore’s birthday party. But she can’t forget. She can’t let herself get swept up in an A minus. She doesn’t want Elenore to learn from her this way. She doesn’t want Elenore to become obsessed with perfect grades; doesn’t want Elenore to hate her reflection in the mirror; doesn’t want Elenore to use her grades to compensate for hating her reflection in the mirror. Elenore doesn’t deserve any of that. Lucy swallows hard and nods.

“I know,” she says. “Consider me temporarily cured.”

Will kisses Lucy again, a little quicker this time.

“Good,” he says.

They hear the front door swing open above them, and Elenore’s excited footsteps run inside. Lucy hears Mary call out, “Elenore! I think your mommy’s home!” and hears John follow it up with, “Go get her!”

And in those few seconds of Elenore running down the basement stairs and into her mother’s arms, Lucy forgets all about the A minus in the front seat of her car. For these few seconds, Elenore is all that matters. Elenore is all that will ever matter.

“Hi, Mommy!” Elenore says, and Lucy smiles as her own parents descend the stairs behind her.

“Hi, Elenore,” Lucy says. “Did you have a good Frosty?”

“Grandma didn’t let me eat at all. ‘Cause of the cake.”

“Sounds like Grandma was thinking. Cake is pretty special, you know. And cake is extra special for you this year. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you get two birthday cakes!”

“I do! I do!”

Elenore laughs for no reason other than being three years old. She jumps on her mother to hug her and pummels her to the ground. Lucy laughs and laughs. Behind her head, Will laughs, too. It’s the perfect day, and she can’t remember why she felt so strange when she pulled into the driveway ten minutes ago.

“So, Luce,” John says as the laughter dies down. “Did you get back that Dracula paper?”

Lucy bolts up from the ground and looks at her father, face whiter than a sheet.

Right.

She looks over her shoulder at Will, who’s pleading for her to play it cool.

Looks like this is going to be much harder than it needs to be.

[onlinestudywork]

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[robinofgothamcity]

the girl is closer than you think

characters: tim klitz / the girl next door

pronouns used: she/her

note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / DANONATIONNNN THIS ONE IS FOR YOUUU. also, aew girlies still looking for suggestions on wrestlers and if i should continue my kenny fic. i wanna write a hook imagine but i'm kinda stumped on an idea.

"hey! i heard Brad talking to you in gym today, what he'd want?" you heard Eli's voice say creeping up behind you. you turned around seeing the tripod boys walking towards you. you gave Eli a look before waving to Matt and Klitz, "do you ever learn not to be in people business Eli?" you asked him, rolling your eyes at his vivid video cap, "no girl is ever going to date you with you wearing that hat."

Eli dismissed you, still awaiting his answer, "party at his place tonight. I guess something about celebrating everyone's college acceptance letters," you replied. you were leaning against your locker wearing your Yale sweater, one that you and Klitz both owned, "how come we didn't get invited? Matt got into Georgetown and Klitz got into Yale with you," Eli asked, "we is a lot of people Eli. as far as I know, Matt, Klitz, and I got into college. you have this weird director ambition," you said, giggling at the end.

"again, how come they didn't get invitations?" you shrugged, "come on Eli, when has Brad or even Jordan ever invited you to anything?" he nodded at the point you had made, "but you guys can come as my plus ones. by the time I get there, I don't think he'd care who's at his place," you said getting an excited response from Eli. you rolled your eyes before looking to Klitz, "lets go, we have to get to APUSH," you said smiling at him.

you smacked Eli on the back of the head as Klitz grabbed his backpack from the floor and followed behind you. Eli gave Matt a look of disbelief, "he follows her like a lost puppy, it's ridiculous," he told Matt. Matt shrugged, "you wouldn't how it is to fall in love Eli," was all he replied with before the two walked to Literature.

you and Klitz walked towards the AP section of the school as a few of your friends had stopped you in the halls a few times. you were technically considered one of the 'popular' kids at school. being 'friends' with boys like Brad and girls like Brittany usually got you into the parties that were considered legends at school. you had known Brad from childhood and Brittany being a girl on the soccer team gave you even more exclusivity because you were her captain.

you met Klitz and by association Matt and Eli your freshman year. both of you were in the honors English courses and table buddies. he was an even more awkward and skinny as a fourteen year old freshman at the time and you had to admit, not much has changed since then. you had gained your popularity between the summer of freshman and sophomore year so it was surprising to the tripod boys when sophomore year rolled around and the popular kids were dragging you in seven different directions.

"hey, practice later this afternoon?" Brittany asked coming down the hall. you nodded no as you noticed the incredulous look she quickly gave Klitz, "you're going to be at Brad's party tonight, right? you ditched the last three for 'studying' and you have to go!" she practically begged. you gave her a defeated yes as she clapped happily and ran down the hall to meet Brad, "see you tonight! and don't be late!"

you looked to Klitz who was silent the entire time, "come on smarty pants, this final APUSH research paper won't write itself," you told him, shoving him towards the class. he chuckled quietly as the two of you sat down and took out the enormous APUSH textbook and your notebooks.

before all of you could get start to write, you heard a bang on the table and noticed the Yearbook club coming in to drop off the books. you quickly snatched your copy and slammed it on the cover, "Klitz, we made the front collage!" you exclaimed pointing down at it. Klitz quickly noticed that you both were in fact on the front cover.

it was a dumb picture you made him take with you at one of your games. you had dragged the three boys to the game as payment for messing up your car a few days prior with food and wrappers. you had pushed Klitz into frame, hugging his side excitedly as he stood stiff and nervous. Klitz admired the photo for a second. you looked gorgeous, even if you were sweating from the game earlier, and standing next to him like that made him a bit insecure.

your teacher had walked in, smacking her ruler on her desk as she told everyone to get to work. you rolled your eyes, not in the mood for her grouchy attitude. Klitz had grabbed his pencil bag, ready to start his paper when he realized that he hadn't grabbed it on his way out this morning. he reached into yours, hoping you didn't notice and by unfortunate chance, he got your pink sparkly pen.

"writing a research paper in pink ink Timothy?" your teacher asked, ready to yell at him. Klitz didn't say anything as you grabbed it from him, "no, he was going to fix my mistakes for my paper with that," you said covering for him. she hummed in response as you handed him a boring black pen, "she's the biggest bitch this school has ever met, I swear," you groaned, "like it's not our fault you got stuck teaching teenagers. she should have picked a different career."

the rest of the class went by in silence, the two of you engrossed in the papers to even make small conversation. once the bell rang, you looked to Klitz, "you're going to the party later with me, right? I can't go alone. Freddie is going to be there and I can't deal with him on my own." Klitz nodded before muttering that Eli would probably drag him there even if you hadn't asked him to come with.

"great! Brad lives on the same block as I do so just park your car at my place in case we have to make a run for it," you said chucking your bag over your shoulder. you went towards your car as you were met with the party host himself and Brittany, both asking for rides home.

Eli and Matt met with Klitz, the two of them seeing their best friend with that familiar longing look on his face as he watched you drive away, "she's make a great adult film actress, you know that, right?" Klitz stared at Eli, his eyes raging up with fury and jealousy, "just look at her-," before Eli could continue, Klitz screamed at him to shut up making Matt laugh.

+

the night rolled around as you finished putting on your short jean skirt and a plain black v-neck shirt. you told your mom you were going to study at a friends house and slipped out the back door, hoping she didn't catch your outfit. you knew that if your mom had found out that you were going to be at a house party, you'd be shoved inside your room grounded until you left for Yale in the fall.

the house was blaring music already as drunk teenagers littered the backyard. you knew Brad's parents were away on an anniversary trip to Brazil and this was the final weekend all of you had to party before graduation came and all of you left for college. you had made plans to stick by Klitz's side, not bothering to inform him on it given that you knew Klitz wouldn't have cared.

as soon as you walked in, you were handed a red liquid, probably fruit punch and what smelled like Malibu Rum. you knew Brittany wouldn't have done anything to the drink and you immediately started sipping on it. the taste of rum immediately hitting your tastebuds, making you cringe in response.

Eli, Matt, and Klitz had parked his car by your house, walking towards Brad's house slowly. Klitz had worn a plain plaid dress shirt and a white tank top underneath it. Matt and Eli hadn't changed out of what they had worn in the day.

Klitz's eyes immediately wandered around the room, trying to look for you. his mouth instantly fell as he found you. you hardly dressed up for school, going with the safest school appropriate option most of the time. you tended to wear jeans and plain colored t-shirt but now you were in a mini skirt and a low cut shirt with your makeup done beautifully.

the three of them went to join you but Matt immediately turned to the food table and Eli went into the direction of a girl he thought was cute. Klitz stood in the middle of the living room awkwardly. he didn't want to interrupt your conversation with your other friends and frankly, he wanted to go back home. "Klitz! over here!" you yelled suddenly. he sighed and went towards you. you grabbed him and made sure he remained by your side, "you invited him?" Brittany asked. you nodded, "of course I did, he's my best friend and we're going to Yale together so I had too," you said back, making sure she didn't say another snark comment.

you went back into conversation as Klitz just stood next to you quietly. you tried to get him to talk but it was no use. Klitz was just not a social person and you didn't want to take him out of his element too much. Brad had left all of you to turn off the lights to make everyone more comfortable as he liked to put it.

"oh my god, it's Freddie," you said in a bit of a panic. Klitz knew you were freaking out given that you immediately pushed yourself onto him a bit more. Freddie was an ex boyfriend of yours. you had relied everything to Klitz one night of how badly the breakup was and how you didn't like being alone with him, "lets move," you whispered.

Klitz gaining the smallest bit of confidence grabbed your hand and led you to the dance floor by accident, "I didn't know you were a dancer," you joked. you immediately started dancing to the upbeat song. Klitz felt like he was going to die if it was possible. you were starting to dance against him and he never thought he'd ever see a day like this.

he knew you had a few drinks in your system but he didn't think he'd have you dancing on him. he was trying his hardest to not pop a boner but it was nearly impossible when your skirt was this low and you were making no attempt to stop dancing against him. you turned around, smiling at the lanky boy as he went extremely red in the face once he realized that you were giving him an almost mesmerized look.

"Klitz, how are you not dating a girl, you're such a catch," you asked. Klitz shrugged, not knowing how to respond, "girls don't really find me attractive," that made you instantly roll your eyes, "they're ridiculous if you ask me. you're literally a girls dream. smart, cute, and kinda funny," you replied.

Klitz could see Eli's and Matt's face as they noticed how you were dancing against their friend. Eli pushed for Klitz to dance back but it was like talking to a brick wall, it was not going to happen.

"you think so?" he asked. you nodded excitedly, "of course. you just need to loosen up Klitzy," you said. you were still dancing against him as you finished your drink, "can I ask you a question?" he asked, practically feeling the word vomit coming out, "why are you friends with me? you can do better than someone like myself."

Klitz wanted to scream. he had no idea why he asked such a stupid question but he couldn't hold it in anymore. you remained silent making Klitz start to freak out. you finally looked up to him and chuckled quietly.

"you're different than everyone else here," you finally said, "you don't see me for who I am physically. to you, I'm just ( your name ). I'm not this popular girl that just happens to be your friend and I love that about you," Klitz was surprised to say the least, "every guy here has wanted to either have sex with me or date me to get popularity status but you're just my friend. you like to hear about my stupid interests like Star Wars and you know more about me than any other person here."

"maybe it's stupid of me to think that you'd like me in the way I like you but you're special to me, Klitz. I mean, we're the only ones in the entire school who got into an Ivy League school. we're going to fucking Yale!" Klitz stood for a second, trying to figure out that first part you had said, "what do you mean by "to think you'd like me in the way I like you"?" he asked.

you couldn't help but laugh.

"you caught that, huh?" you asked jokingly, "it's stupid but I don't think I'm your type of girl anyway. you deserve someone better than me," he repeated his earlier question, still confused by what you meant, "I've liked you since Sophomore year but I've hid it until now I guess. you don't have to let me down or anything. I know I'm not the kind of girl you'd be into."

Klitz was stunned to put it lightly. he couldn't believe what he was hearing. you? not his type? if anything, he wasn't your type. you were popular, guys didn't exactly fall at the feet for you like they did with girls like Brittany but he did know of a fair share of guys who did like you and he saw the guys you thought were cute. he was not like them.

"you're wrong," Klitz finally said. you stayed quiet, now confused yourself, "your beautiful. I never thought I'd be the kind of guy you'd like. I mean, look at me and look at yourself. you have options and you chose me? are you sick or something?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood. you smacked Klitz on the back of the head, "seriously, I've heard the way you talked about guys you liked and it doesn't seem like I'd be anywhere in that realm."

you laughed, bringing him down to your height, "can I kiss you?" you asked. Klitz didn't get a chance to respond as you smashed your lips against his. you had your arms wrapped around his neck as he awkwardly placed his on your hips, "Klitz, we've danced around our feelings for each other for years now. I couldn't wait anymore," you said once you pulled away, "I hope that means I get to be your girlfriend now,".

Klitz nodded almost instantly, "it's a good thing we're going to Yale together because long distance would suck," he said. you nodded in agreement, "I'd drag myself to the nearest college to be closer with you," you whispered. Klitz laughed as you brought him in for another kiss.

Klitz couldn't believe it. he never thought he'd be kissing you at one of the last parties of your high school career but here he was. the two of you were going to Yale together and that meant he'd still have you by his side in a few months. he was never used to this type of good luck but he wasn't going to question it now.

he smiled a bit into the kiss as he saw Eli and Matt giving him a thumbs up in response. sometimes he really hated his friends but he knew that today they were proud of him for getting the girl that he always dreamed of.

[dragonflavoredcake]

10 College (Dorm) Tips

I just finished my first year of college and have some quality of life tips

1) Keep a water jug in your room. I’m 100% serious. Get a decent-sized water jug and periodically refill it with tap water. If you don’t like the taste of your college’s tap water, let the jug sit overnight with the lid unscrewed. It’ll taste a lot better by morning. Its mere presence will help encourage you to stay hydrated

2) There is a point at which you can get snippy with your floormates for being too loud. If they have loud music and there’s nowhere you can go to avoid it, you can politely ask them to turn it down. When I was in the dorms, I only sent impatient messages to the floor group chat after 1 am, because yeah, some people want to party and they should be able to do so if they want, but some of us have morning classes. If you don’t sleep well, you’ll feel awful for up to four days afterwards.

3) Get some sticky paper flags for your textbooks. If you’ve got assigned reading, stick one flag in at the start and one flag in at the end. Move the starting flag along as you progress. If there’s something you want to keep a note of, put in a flag instead of highlighting it; you might get more for the textbook when buybacks come around.

4) Get a lamp or two. Sometimes you need light but don’t want the bright overhead lights. I had a bedside lamp and a desk lamp, and that fulfilled basically all of my needs.

5) Keep some food in your room. You don’t need to do a full grocery shop every week, but I had snacks, tea, cereal, and milk in my room. Snacks are self-explanatory. The tea, cereal, and milk were for breakfasts, since my meal plan only allowed 2 meals per day at the dining hall. For a while I poured cereal into a reusable ziplock bag every day at lunch and that was my breakfast the next morning. It was technically against the rules, but I was nice to the employees so they turned a blind eye until some visiting higher-up told me to knock it off.

6) Be respectful of other people in the dining hall. Try to keep your table clean, and do your best to wipe up spills. If you take food, don’t take an obscene amount. I took cereal from the dining hall almost every day, but I only ever took enough for one bowl. Once I wanted to bring chips to a small party, so I got seven mini bags of chips from the dining hall, spread out over three or four days so other people had a fair shot at getting a bag.

9) Being nice is a real life cheat code. When I say the dining hall staff turned a blind eye to me taking cereal, I mean I was pouring it directly into my bag and made eye contact with someone refilling the milk station and I asked if I should move so he could better access the machine. He told me I was fine and said nothing more as I closed my cereal bag, put it in my backpack, and walked away. One of my writing professors gave me a “retroactive extension” on a late paper because I was a good student. I fidgeted/stimmed with embroidery a lot while in his class, so I showed him the project when it was completed. He was delighted and we still exchange friendly emails.

10) STOP LEAVING YOUR STUFF UNATTENDED. I saw people leave phones on dining hall tables and backpacks with non-password-protected laptops in the library. Your stuff is gonna get stolen! I’m sick of staring at random people’s junk because I don’t want it to get stolen even though it’d serve them right! Just ask someone nearby if they’ll watch it for you, even if it’s someone you don’t know! Even if they’re a would-be thief, they won’t steal it if they’re smart, because you’ve separated them from the crowd and could potentially give an accurate description to the police if they did steal your stuff.

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song ii.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher living with your best friend, and have never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader  au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual smut, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, things are heating up! the phrase ‘dilf dick’ gets thrown around way too much, RJ and taehyung cameo, hoseok, yoongi and namjoon are mentioned, as well as jungkook if you squint words; 12,169

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

After Seokjin dropped you off at the station, he and Arin waving you goodbye, it would be two weeks later when you saw him again. Not that you were holding out on it or anything… No way… That would be ludicrous.  

The last week of school was always hectic, activities and games top priority now that teaching had come to a standstill. The children were hyper, the teacher’s worn out, but without fail you always looked forward to the summer fate. Head of the committee every year, you and a handful of your fellow teachers organised each game, each stall and each prize. As well as wanting the children to have fun, it was also an opportunity to celebrate their achievements throughout the year with their families. There were an arrange of awards for most subjects, third through to first place for each grade, and this year you’d convinced the principal, Mr. Jung, to include a new creative writing award. It wasn’t technically a subject – you already had the spelling bee for English class, but he’d thought it was a great idea to celebrate the students’ talents in a brand new way. 

Of course, there was one child you had in mind when you’d gone to him with the idea – Arin. It was only fair in your eyes, she’d been with you not even three months and hadn’t had a chance like the other kids. The other awards were spoken for but you wanted her to at least get something, just so first grade could end on a good note for her and help her look forward to September. 

You were at the entrance of the fate, in casual conversation with Mrs. Jeon as well as greeting the students’ families, when you caught a glimpse of Seokjin. He was hand in hand with Arin who skipped happily beside him. He was wearing a sea green thin sweater, that blew in the light breeze, and black jeans. He was even in sneakers. Way more unbelievable than the slippers. He looked effortlessly good, and you thought you preferred him like this, casually dressed. The suits were great yes, but he looked far more attainable like this. Not that you wanted to attain him. 

Damn it. 

You tried your best to ignore the strange heat that had seemed to settle in your chest at the sight of him, the faintest flurry of what could only be described as butterflies aggravating your stomach. What the hell? What was wrong with you? 

“Hello, Miss.” Arin grinned, giving you a small wave, and you shook yourself out of it. 

“Hi, Arin,” you waved back, of course catching Seokjin’s eyes in the process. 

“Miss. Y/L/N,” he greeted, the hint of a smirk across his mouth. Teasing, again. Two could play at that game. 

“Mr. Kim,” you replied, unable to keep a straight face – especially when you heard him laugh as he passed by you. 

You watched him walk off, secretly pleased now that you knew he was here. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but you’d been hoping he’d be free to attend the fate. To see Arin receive her reward, of course – nothing else. But, okay, maybe you had spent an embarrassingly long time choosing which dress to wear last night. Not that you wanted to impress him, more like… stand out. 

“Who is he?” Mrs. Jeon whispered animatedly – hopefully out of earshot and once again knocking some sense back into you. 

You tried to sound casual, like you weren’t aware of Seokjin’s jaw-dropping good looks – or more so, that they didn’t affect you whatsoever. “A student’s father.”

She made a noise of disbelief. “He is just pure… sex on legs.”

“Eunbi!” You exclaimed, taken by such surprise you used her first name. She burst out laughing, something you couldn’t ignore and ended up in a fit of giggles yourself. 

“Behave.” You warned, trying to compose yourself. “You’re a married woman.” You’d attended her wedding last summer, bringing along Soojung as your plus one. 

“Looking is still allowed,” she replied, making you both explode into laughter once again. 

You were giddy. Really, what was up with you?

.

.

The afternoon was a success, the children and their families enjoying immensely, as well as the teachers. It was your job to announce the creative writing reward and it was so heart-warming to see how happy it made Arin to come first place. She held her little trophy and movie theatre vouchers proudly for the camera, Seokjin looking just as over the moon as her. Mr. Jung convinced him to join for a few snaps and you looked on with a polite smile. Other than earlier and a thank you as you passed the prize to Arin, those had been your only interactions with Seokjin for the day and now the fate was drawing to a close. You wouldn’t say you were disappointed, because that would be preposterous, but if those were going to be your only exchanges then it made the times he’d fleeted into your mind these past couple of weeks highly embarrassing… 

It wasn’t as if you wanted to think about him, he just kept popping up. First you blamed Soojung, who wouldn’t shut up about Mr. Dilf for a few days after the exchange at his house (mansion), but soon the topic bored her, no new developments to keep her hooked. You on the other hand found yourself imagining instances where you’d bump into one another again. You know, happenstances… Like if he had the time to drop Arin off at school, although you doubted he’d end up in the staff parking lot again… You’d had a good giggle to yourself remembering his face when he’d realised. 

Other incidents were less realistic, like maybe he’d drop off a thank you present the students liked to gift to say goodbye, or maybe you’d bump into him at the grocery store, the park – highly improbable, but you found yourself thinking all these things when you were procrastinating or trying to get to sleep. 

Even now as you tried to win a prize at the Ring Toss stall – don’t ask how much money you’d already spent – (obviously using your free time wisely before you were needed again), you found yourself disappointed that things hadn’t worked out quite like you’d imagined today. You were being stupid. The guy was supposed to annoy the heck out of you, yet here you were unable to stop thinking about him. It had been a long time since a man had gotten you this distracted. A really long time… 

“Can I help?”

You jumped at the sound of Seokjin’s voice, granted you were in deep concentration, about to launch the hoop, but you felt like you’d been caught doing something wrong. As if he knew you’d been thinking about him, caught you in the act. You whipped your head up, forcing yourself to relax and smile. 

“I’ve been watching you try to win for the past ten minutes.” He chuckled. Great. How embarrassing. He stepped closer. “What do you have your eyes so set on?”

Oh, god. Even more embarrassing. You had a split second to make a decision. Be truthful or lie and choose something else. You know what, who cared? You were thirty and still loved stuffed animals. It wasn’t out of the ordinary. 

“The alpaca.” You pointed to the white fluffy animal sat on the top shelf. With his cute round face and a red scarf wrapped around his neck, he was adorable and you really wanted him. 

Seokjin wasn’t fazed at all. “He’s cute. I’ll try but don’t get your hopes up, okay?” 

You nodded and handed him the hoops. He needed to loop all three around the skittles. You watched him with anticipation, thinking to yourself this definitely wasn’t one of your fantasies, but you liked it regardless. Liked it even better when Seokjin managed to win. 

“Thank you, Seokjin,” you smiled, his name still feeling strange to say aloud. The man in charge of the game passed you your new ‘pet’ and you held it fondly, unable to stop yourself. Your landlord didn’t allow animals so you’d had to improvise over the years. You’d never had an alpaca before, but you were sure he’d fit right in. 

“No problem, I’m glad I could be of service.” He chuckled. 

There was a silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it was new. You were so used to Seokjin joking about you were expecting him to take the lead. Today he was quiet, actually right now he looked pretty awkward. 

You opened your mouth to ask him how he was when you suddenly realised something. How stupid of you. You’d been so distracted by the stuffed animal you hadn’t realised a little certain someone was missing. “Where’s Arin?”

“She’s playing with a friend and their family.” You watched him scratch the back of his neck, looking at you, but not really making eye contact. “Y/N, do you maybe want to take a walk? We could find some where to sit and talk?”

“About what?” You could’ve kicked yourself. Why did you have to ask that? You were just a little dazed from hearing him say your name again. 

“Uh, just about Arin really.” 

You didn’t really know what you’d been expecting so any answer would’ve surprised you, but you nodded, taking him up on the offer. “Okay.” 

You knew a bench away from the fate but still on school grounds, and you walked side by side, noticing just how tall and broad he was. His shoulders looked unbelievable in that sweater, and it hugged his chest perfectly when the light breeze of the afternoon hit him, his well-built chest visible. Not that you were staring or anything, you just happened to notice… 

You small talked along the way. Not much, mostly about the fate, but it was enough for you to hit your destination without any awkward silence. You wracked your brains as you sat, wondering what he had to say about Arin. Maybe he wanted to discuss her stories more, thank you for the prize she’d won. What you did know though, was that his cologne really did smell amazing. It was woody, maybe spicy, and just plain addicting. This close proximity was wreaking havoc with you again. You sat the alpaca between you both on bench, acting as a barrier for your sanity. 

Seokjin patted its head absentmindedly before he side-eyed you, that amused smile you’d become familiar with upturning the corners of his mouth. “You seem a lot less scrappy today.”

You raised both eyebrows, thrown for a moment. “Scrappy?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “a lot less intimidating.” 

You? Intimidating? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? The sheer power of Seokjin’s brow line alone could bring a person to quivering knees, and that wasn’t mentioning the obvious, like you know, his face. However, he seemed genuine enough. You didn’t really consider yourself feisty, but then again, when pushed to your limits maybe something just snapped inside of you. You had powers you weren’t aware of, obviously. Better own them then…

You gave a small shrug, smirking slightly. “Maybe I’ve chosen to forgive and forget.” 

He chuckled again, genuinely amused, but you sensed some reluctance his end, a slight awkwardness. Was he stalling? You suddenly grew a little nervous. The dynamics you’d grown somewhat used to during your last few encounters had shifted without you knowing. Seokjin was a lot less teasing today. How come? 

“So,” you pressed carefully, unable to handle the anticipation. “What was it you wanted to say?” 

He lifted his head up, warm eyes meeting yours and your insides did that flurrying thing again. Your imagination hadn’t concocted this. When he smiled you realised how kind it was – how kind it could be when he wasn’t being infuriating. “I just want to thank you.” 

Your eyes widened before you could control the surprise. “Thank me?” 

He nodded, relaxing a little now, pressing his back into the bench. “For being such an amazing teacher to Arin these past couple of months.” 

Of course, Arin. That’s what he’d said in the beginning, right? He wanted to sit and talk about Arin.

“That’s really no problem,” you smiled. It was your job after all. Yes, teachers liked being appreciated for their hard work, but personally, praise sent you a little red in the face. 

You didn’t know if he heard you, already continuing, as if he’d rehearsed what he wanted to say. “It’s been really hard on her, the change – you know, uprooting the life she knew to come and live with me. New school, making new friends. She was incredibly worried, but you made it so much easier for her.” 

Looking at you again, sounding so genuine, you found yourself freezing. You stumbled a little over your words before managing to come up with something functional. “Of course, it’s my job to make every student comfortable in my class.” You were sure any teacher would’ve treated her with the same kindness and care. But, yes, truthfully you had become very fond of her in such a short time. You wanted him to know that in a roundabout way. “I’ll miss her come September.” 

He gave you an appreciative smile. “She’ll miss you too.” 

Serious Seokjin always threw you. Maybe it was because you had to accept that you’d misjudged him completely. He wasn’t the rich pompous jerk you’d first thought the morning he’d hit your car. You had to admit that like this he impressed and intrigued you. It was why you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him these past two weeks. Which was stupid because you doubted he was doing the same.  

“Thanks for choosing her to win that writing competition, by the way.” His voice brought you back to Earth, concentrating on him again to find that mischievous grin all over his face. “Even if you didn’t like the way it ended.” 

You scoffed. Was he ever going to drop that? He knew that wasn’t the case. He’d asked for the damn pointer himself. “Well, if Lewis Carroll did it.” 

“Kim Arin can too?” He finished, both of you instantly laughing. Once it petered off, he tilted his head to the side, gazing at you almost. It made you fidget a little, getting flustered. “She’s really fond of you. I meant what I said at the parent-teacher meeting.”

God, you really were horrendous at taking compliments. Especially from a man that already made you feel funny. 

“She’s always speaking about how kind and lovely you are.” A pause. "...How pretty you are.” You froze. He hesitated, contemplating something in his head it seemed. He looked you straight in the eyes and said casually, “I have to admit, I agree." 

Oh. What?! You felt heat begin to travel up your face, your cheeks burning and you prayed it wasn't visible. You didn't know what to reply, but thankfully (perhaps) Seokjin simply carried on, hopefully oblivious to your awkward reaction. You should bypass it too. It probably didn't mean anything. He was just being polite, right? 

“Realising it was your car I hit made me feel even guiltier." He shook his head regretfully. "I really am sorry for all that. The damage, stealing your car." 

"It's fine, Seokjin." He hadn’t really stolen your car, you’d been extremely overdramatic there. He'd apologised enough already. You were over it. You had two days left of school, the summer all yours, your mood was much better. Let bygones be bygones. 

“Yeah but, I should’ve never gotten your car towed. I realise I was out of line. You said you didn’t want my help but I didn’t listen." 

You nodded, listening to him, aware he needed to say this. Again, it seemed as if he'd rehearsed it almost, or maybe it was the professional in him. You were too damn stubborn so he wasn't all to blame. You smiled appreciatively, fighting your hand's strange urge to pat his shoulder. It was maybe best that you didn't touch him. Instead you gave a teasing grin. “But you still won’t let me pay you back?” 

He whined – or at least that's the only way you could describe it. It tugged at something inside your chest. Maybe it was more like a wail. Less cute. He couldn't believe you were back on that. 

"I'm just messing around," you laughed, trying to compose yourself to let him know something too. “While we're on apologies... I'm sorry for being so short with you annnd for calling you a car thief."

He chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair. Oh, it was pushed back above his forehead again today. You hadn't noticed, too distracted by what? His sneakers? The outfit as a whole? His face? “I deserved it, let’s be honest." 

"Maybe in the beginning," you admitted carefully, causing him to laugh harder. 

“I was way too preoccupied when I hit you. With work and promising Arin I’d drop her off at school – because shamefully I’d never done it before." He turned a little pensive at that, lost in his own thoughts. 

“You must be really busy," you said, voice soft. There was no way he could do it all. Work seemingly six days a week and still try to be there for Arin 24/7. 

He looked across at you, an eyebrow quirking slightly. What was he surprised by? That you were sympathising with him? He nodded slowly. “It’s just hard learning to juggle everything.   Don’t get me wrong, I love having her with me every day, but...”

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon.” You wanted to say it would be summer break soon enough, but then on second thoughts, maybe that would make things even harder. 

“Yeah, maybe,” he shrugged, changing the subject back to you. “Besides, me being busy doesn’t really excuse the fact I hit you. I mean, what if god forbid you’d been walking past my car instead, it doesn’t bear thinking about.” He looked beside himself at just the idea. 

“But I wasn’t,” you reminded him, “so it’s perfectly okay.” 

“You’re right,” he murmured, giving you a small smile that rounded his cheeks.  

There was silence then, where you waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. Was that all he’d wanted to talk about? To thank you for being a kind teacher to Arin and to say sorry once again for the car debacle? For some reason you felt eager to keep the conversation going. It was an urge deep inside you that acted on its own accord. 

“So, what do you do?” You asked, trying your best to sound casual. Not that you weren’t casual. You just didn’t want to make it seem like you were desperate for small talk. “If you don’t mind me asking.” 

Again, he looked vaguely surprised. What, that you were interested in him? No, that was phrased wrong. That you were interested. He didn’t meet your eyes as he replied.  “I, uh, I’m the CEO of LG. I took over from my father about three years ago.” 

You swore your eyes bugged out of their sockets you were so overcome with shock. You were glad he wasn’t looking at you as you tried to pull it together. “The LG?”

Like one of the biggest companies in the country LG? He was way too young surely? Weren’t those type of CEOs old and round looking?  

Seokjin chuckled, finally looking you in the eyes. “Unless you know another one.” 

You were speechless, well aware you needed to actually say something in reply instead of gawping but what? What could you say to that? “I guess that explains why you’re always so busy then.” 

God, why? Of all the things, why that? Well done for stating the obvious, Y/N. 

Seokjin gave you a modest smile. “It’s difficult, yes. Trying to manage work and being effectively a single dad, but I really am trying.” He shook his head slightly, as if he was telling himself off. “I missed her so much these past couple of years, so to finally have her living with me is a dream come true. I’m trying to be the best father I can but I guess it’s a work in progress.” 

You weren’t expecting him to be this open with you at all. But maybe Soojung wouldn’t be so surprised. She and a bunch of your other friends, even acquittances said that you were easy to confide in. That you listened well and didn’t try to solve everything. You didn’t know how true that was but you didn’t mind listening to him right now. Sometimes confiding in a stranger just worked. 

“Arin obviously adores you.” You smiled. “I could see that the day I dropped your car back.”

He gave you a tiny smile of thanks but sighed softly. “I just want her to always be happy. I know coming from a broken home may make that statement hypocritical but…”

“Not at all,” you insisted. “If a relationship isn’t working out then you need to do what’s best for your child, and you.” That was important too. “I mean, my parents divorced when I was quite young and I have a million and one happy memories growing up.” 

You grew a little self-conscious, thinking that you were oversharing, but he seemed happy to hear it, perking up a little. “Really?” 

“Yep. They beat the ones I have of them yelling at one another.” 

He gave a bitter chuckle then, nodding in agreement. “That’s right. It’s just…” He paused and you wondered if he was going to carry on. Was it bad that you felt curious? You liked seeing this side of Seokjin, it wasn’t how your fantasies had gone at all, it was better. Things had taken an unexpected turn but it just seemed to fit. It seemed natural. It felt nice to talk to him like this. Suddenly you didn’t seem so different. Despite the contrasts in your job and lifestyle, they weren’t very apparent here on this bench… 

“My ex-wife is… she lives a busy life – even busier than mine. But she loves it. She goes looking for it.” Seokjin explained. You listened politely. “That’s why Arin had to start living with me, and even though I’m pulled thin, I still try to make enough time for my daughter, no matter the day, no matter the time, no matter anything. Nana doesn’t…”

Nana? That was her name. You imagined someone slim and beautiful, it was only fitting seeing as Seokjin was the man she was married to once upon a time. Beauty attracted beauty. 

“Is that why you divorced?” Okay, maybe you were prying now. You hoped he didn’t find it rude. 

He didn’t. “There were a lot of reasons,” he answered honestly. “It was as much my fault as it was hers. We were going in different directions and had fallen out of love. It’s been a while now, nearly two years, I’m fine.” He met your eyes at the last part, as if he wanted you to understand that. Or maybe you were reading it wrong. Why would he want you to know that? 

“Does she live far?” You remembered Arin’s disappointment that weekend when her mom had cancelled their plans. Maybe she lived a while away and it was hard to commute with Arin back and forth. 

“No, just in the next city. It’s not far at all. She’s really high up in an accounting firm there. That’s why when we divorced I moved closer to my building here. See, that’s what annoys me the most,” Seokjin scoffed, an edge to his voice now. Oh shoot, you’d made a mistake with that question. “It’s really no distance at all, so why can’t she spare one single day for Arin?” 

You made a sympathetic face, unsure what to say. You decided on honesty. “I’m sorry, I can’t even begin to imagine how all that feels.” 

Break-ups and divorces were hard yes, but when a child was stuck in the middle a tonne of other complications arose. As a teacher you understood that very well, but as a long-time single woman, maybe not. It had been a while since you’d opened your heart to someone, your life taking a very different turn to what you’d expected three years ago. Not that you minded, you liked where you were heading right now, comfortable and at ease. There was nothing missing. You had your friends and family and that was enough. You hoped Seokjin had people around him too.  

“No, I’m the one that should apologise,” he said suddenly, face tinged with colour, as if he was embarrassed. “I’m offloading onto you, that isn’t fair.” 

“I don’t mind.” Honestly, you didn’t at all. It wasn’t even offloading, more so a conversation. You were getting to know him. 

“You’re just so easy to talk to and I got a bit caught off guard when you started asking about me.” He admitted, his warm eyes finding yours. 

Oh. So now you knew for definite he was indeed surprised by all your questions. When was the last time he’d spoken about all that stuff relating his ex-wife? Had he ever spoken about it at all? 

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you today.”

His words caught your attention, interrupting your thoughts and in the process confusing you greatly. You raised a questioning eyebrow. What did he mean? 

“When I asked you to take a walk I did want to thank you for being so kind to Arin and to apologise for the car trouble, but there was also something else…” You waited patiently, heart thudding quite roughly against your chest for some reason. He looked nervous again. Nervous and awkward just like earlier, before you’d distracted him. 

He chose a new direction. One that left you a little dazed. “Y/N, would I be crossing the line if I said I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately?” His dark brown eyes searched for any reaction across your face. 

“Me?” You asked quietly. 

He chuckled bashfully. “Yeah.”

Somehow you found your voice. Well, some of it anyway. “No, it’s not crossing the line.” You wanted to tell him just the same. How he’d slipped into your mind at random times of the day and how you’d secretly been holding out on another meeting. How you’d been anticipating today. But none of that came in your stunned state. Seokjin had been thinking about you? The annoying, exasperating so-and-so hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you? 

He instantly looked relieved – and pleased – at your answer. “I’m glad.” A pause as he hesitated. “Do you maybe want to… go out for dinner this Saturday?” He sounded hopeful, adding quickly, “with me, obviously.”

You would’ve giggled at that but nothing was working. You needed to process his question. He was asking you for dinner? 

“My way of apologising for everything, my treat…” You guessed he felt the need to explain now, a little panicked by your reaction (or no reaction.) “For hitting your car and towing it away without your permission.” 

You laughed then. Just like that your shock dispersing. He was so oblivious it hurt, and now you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose. He really was that unaware. “So you want to spend more of your money on me?”

You weren’t mad, of course. He knew that, laughing too as he weighed up your reply. “I see the problem.” You snickered, your gaze intimately locking with his in the process. “So, what do you say?” He murmured. “I mean, it’s for a plethora of things really. The car business, all you’ve done for Arin. One massive thank you.” 

Oh. You were getting mixed messages here. Was this an apology dinner, a thank you dinner? Or something more? Maybe he read the questioning in your eyes because he was rushing to say more. “As well as just wanting to enjoy your company. I feel like I talked too much about myself today, I’d like to get to know you too…”  

Okay, now this sounded awfully like a date… And that word freaked you out. Had you not just been thinking about how happily single you’d been for three years and how all you needed were your friends and family? But honestly, you were getting ahead of yourself. It was one dinner. There was no way to predict the outcome and you shouldn’t even be thinking that far ahead. Sometimes you didn’t need to think. You needed to remember that. Sometimes it was just good to act in the moment. Take cautious to the wind and accept this incredibly handsome man’s dinner invitation, whatever his intention was. 

You smiled. “Dinner sounds lovely.” 

Seokjin’s eyes widened a tad, surprise visible and he didn’t try to hide it. “Really?” You laughed and nodded. Really you should be the one still shocked, because despite everything – the misjudgements, the attitude, the way you’d been itching for numerous fights with him, it was a wonder why he still wanted to be anywhere near you. …Maybe he liked that… Maybe he liked you? Or were you absolutely barking mad?  

“Can I have your number to arrange everything?” 

You went to relay it to him, watching him pull his phone from out his front jean pocket but then remembered something. “Oh, I already have yours, should I just text you?”

“That’s my work phone. Maybe we should swap personal phone numbers?” 

You mean, you only had one phone, but it made sense why he had two. You were still stuck on the personal part though. A little dazed (and excited) as he saved your number into his phonebook. Your phone was locked up in your classroom, so you couldn’t take his but no matter, you’d just save it once he messaged you. 

Seokjin glanced at his watch – an expensive looking thing, but that was really no surprise now – and hummed. “We should head back, the fate will be finishing soon.” 

You made more small talk as you walked back, Seokjin wondering if you had any allergies or a special diet so he could bear it in mind when he chose a restaurant. Luckily for you no, but you found out that he was allergic to garlic and potatoes, which seemed ridiculous and highly unfair. But he did admit that he ignored it sometimes, which resulted in disaster often because garlic made him itch like crazy. You had a good laugh over that. 

“So, what are you going to name him?” Seokjin asked, stroking the top of your alpaca’s head who was hooked against your hip as you walked.  

“Hm. I don’t know.” You shrugged, turning to him. “You decide? You did win him after all.” 

“Hmmm,” he thought aloud. A few seconds later he came up with something. “How about RJ?”

“RJ?” 

Seokjin chuckled. “Yeah, it’s cute.” 

Smiling, you had to agree. “Yeah, it is.” You held the stuffed animal up in front of you, tilting your head to the side. “RJ the alpaca. Perfect.” 

Still walking as you spoke, you felt Seokjin move in, hovering his hand behind the small of your back in case you stumbled, your attention elsewhere. You felt the same warmth you had the day he’d called you by your name for the first time… 

Of course you had to tell Soojung about the events of the day. It wasn't as if you could keep it a secret – and it wasn't as if you wanted to, you just knew what would happen... She was like a dog with a bone, unable to give it up, making you recall every minute detail down to the socks he was wearing (black, by the way, to match his jeans. You had indeed noticed). 

“He’s so smart. He waits until you’re not this kid’s teacher anymore and then BAM, do you want to go on a date?”

“Soojung, it’s not a date," you sighed. “He’s just…being nice." 

You were still reluctant to call it a date, because well, he hadn't used the word himself. You didn't want to get your hopes up. Although you would never admit that to her, you knew she understood, in her own roundabout way. 

“Being nice?!” She exclaimed, scoffing absurdly loud. 

You shrugged. “Yeah, thanking me." 

She spluttered, as if she found you terribly naive. “What, thanks for being kind to my daughter? SHUT UP, it’s your job! No, he wants to give you that Dilf dick!" 

“Oh, my god. Soojung!” You hushed, immediately feeling your face burn. The thought hadn't even crossed your mind because it was so unbelievable. 

Saturday was not that long away, the last two days of school flew by, and whilst you were emotional, your mind was also a little too preoccupied with the weekend and what it all meant. Gradually, you’d finally had to admit to yourself that this was probably, most definitely a date. The word sent a fear through your body like no other. Despite being single for three years, you had been on a few first dates in that time, and obviously they had never led to anything. In fact, it had been over a year since your last and that's when you had sworn off dating altogether. 

Min Yoongi. That was the last guy you'd said yes too. A fifth grade teacher at Primrose Hill up until last September. (That had nothing to do with you, by the way, he'd just moved cities last summer to pursue a different career. The date hadn't been that bad...) He was easy on the eye and funny, although maybe a little too sarcastic at times, so much so, you hadn't been able to pick up on the signals until he was cornering you in the staff room and asking you to watch a movie with him that coming weekend. Being both teachers, you'd assumed you'd hit it off straight away, but that wasn't the case. It turned out that Yoongi pretty much hated his job, only there for the extended vacations. That was perfectly fine, you guessed, but you realised that a man like that wasn't for you. How could you both love and hate the same job? It just wasn't feasible. 

You didn't miss dating, mostly because you hadn't been that into the idea anyway. But now? Now that the idea had presented itself again? After the most peculiar string of events, you had suddenly found yourself being asked out for dinner by the man who had hit your car, and you were… excited. For the first time in forever, you were excited for a date.  

You hadn’t felt like this since –

Since Donghae. 

Even thinking his name turned your heart heavy. Not as bad as the original heartbreak three years ago, but the memory was still enough to dampen your mood, if even for a moment. You'd met one another during your last year of college and had stayed together for the next five years. He'd been your forever man, the one you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with – he had proposed to you on your 26th birthday after all... Only, being his fiancé hadn't lasted. Since months later he confessed to cheating on you – repeatedly with a girl that worked in the Starbucks near his work building. It had been the pressure of settling down, that's what he'd told you. He was still young, had been very young when you'd gotten together in college and he wanted to experience life properly. His friends were out clubbing every weekend while he stayed inside playing boardgames with you and your friends. Your friends, as if they weren't his too, as if you all hadn't been joined at the hip in college... 

Your life had pretty much crumbled after that. Everything you'd known had been ripped from under your feet and you had no idea what to do or where to go. One day you had been someone's wife-to-be and the next you were a lonely, broken human. You moved in with Soojung, had to take a month off work because you couldn't function properly, and slowly had to learn how to live your life without the love of your life. 

It took a while, but gradually you got there. You and Soojung found a new, bigger place to live – where you still lived now – and you found ways to stop thinking about him, went on weekend vacations and started new hobbies. It took just over a year to feel yourself again but dating never seemed right. 

Soojung slowly encouraged you to try it out, but the handful that happened in that twelve month period just felt forced – even the one with Yoongi, which had pretty much happened organically (as in, Soojung hadn't set it up…), felt like it was missing something. In a way you knew you were comparing everyone to Donghae, you couldn't help it. You couldn't imagine potentially falling in love with someone else again. He was all you'd known for so long, and once upon a time your relationship had been amazing. He'd been amazing. Getting out of that mindset had been difficult, but there had been an even more difficult one... One you were still struggling with now. The issue of opening up your heart again. 

Truthfully, that's why you’d stayed single for so long. Why you'd given up on dating and didn't want to know. The thought of you meeting and falling for someone only to inevitably get hurt again terrified you. You wouldn't say you had trust issues, you knew not every man was like Donghae, but just imagining your world crumbling like it had three years ago was enough to just give up. 

It wasn't like you were unhappy though. You’d meant all that stuff about liking where your life was heading. You had your friends and family and a job you loved. Your life was fulfilling, there was nothing missing. But maybe that’s what you’d needed to realise… Life worked in mysterious ways. Once you were happy and content maybe it was finally time to open up your heart again. 

The truth was, you were very, very attracted to Seokjin. You felt something, even when you wanted to poke his eyeballs out for being so annoying. Actually, thinking about it, maybe that’s why you’d been so scrappy, your mind was fighting with your heart… Despite the obvious differences between you both, you oddly weren’t fazed by that right now. Seokjin didn’t seem unrelatable in that sense. Yes, your lives were crazy different, but there was something between you. You were sure of it. The way he’d opened up to you on that bench, the way he’d smiled at you, and even the way he’d teased you. It had to mean something. 

Sometimes it was okay to trust your heart. That warm feeling weaving its way through your chest… Sometimes it was okay to be a little exposed. Not everyone was out to get you. 

What was the worst that could happen? The dinner never led to anything else? That would be okay, you’d get over it. But what if it did lead to something more…? 

You deserved to find out, right? 

Saturday morning you received a text from Seokjin. You were eating breakfast at the small table you had set up in the kitchen alongside Soojung. She had only just woken up and was still a little bleary eyed but still managed to instantly perk up at the mention of Seokjin. She demanded to see his message straight away. 

Unknown (9:32am)  Hi Y/N,  It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up.  Regards, Seokjin 

She squealed. “This guy writes his texts like they’re emails. You just know he’s going to be a good lay.”

“Soojung,” you groaned.  She would not shut up about Dilf dick this and Dilf dick that. “What does that even mean?” 

“He’s a CEO,” she said simply, eyes wide as if that explained everything. “Of one of this country’s biggest companies. That’s like some type of erotic novel shit.” 

You groaned loudly, dropping your head into your hands, but she still continued – sadly. 

“But none of that creepy Fifty Shades of Grey stuff. This guy is a real gentleman. Like he puts your pleasure above all else. I think he’d be really good at going down on a woman.”

By this point, you’d stopped feeling flustered by her insane claims. They were just normal now. She was unbelievable. Why was she even thinking of these things and where did she come up with them? You didn’t want to think of Seokjin like that because you really wanted to keep your sanity for tonight. Plus, no way were you ready for something like that yet. You hoped Seokjin wasn’t anticipating something more. You were sure he wasn’t, you hadn’t gotten those vibes. Soojung was just being dumb. 

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t half talk some shit.” 

You wanted her to point out how cute his text was instead. Like how he’d said he was Arin’s father, you know, just in case you’d forgotten who he was in two days, but no, she was too caught up on potential erotic novel titles. 

You slipped to the side with a start when Soojung nudged your shoulder, getting all up into your personal space as she teased you. “I’m right though, huh?” 

You pushed her back. “This is just a dinner. Not the start of an erotic novel.”

She shrugged. “I’d read it.”

“What would you read?”

Taehyung’s voice appeared from the doorway and you both looked up to see him leaning against it, eyes still pretty much glued shut, his thick hair pulled all ways. 

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Soojung greeted, standing up to make her way towards him. You watched her wrap her arms around his middle, nuzzling into him. She’d only left him in bed not half an hour ago. Seeing your best friend in love was odd but nice. You weren’t used to sappy Soojung, but you had to admit it suited her well. They were cute together. 

Taehyung wrapped one arm around his girlfriend and lifted the other to his face, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “What are you guys yelling about down here? You woke me up.” 

“Y/N’s date tonight,” 

“Oh, Mr. Dilf?” He sniggered, perking up. 

Soojung screeched and joined in. “CEO Dilf dick.” 

“You told him?!” You whined, standing to dump your bowl in the sink. 

“Of course.” Taehyung smiled smugly. “She tells me everything. Don’t you, babe?”

“Yep.” She grinned. You watched in minor amusement as Taehyung leant down to peck her mouth, Soojung gagging loudly. “Your breath stinks.” 

.

.

You replied to Seokjin promptly – well as soon as Soojung and Taehyung had vacated the kitchen – and not long after that he messaged back with the restaurant details, asking if it was okay to pick you up at 7pm. You sent him your address, almost immediately freaking out. You knew his wealth hadn't fazed you that bad, seeing as he was so easy to talk to, but your place and his place were on different planes of existence. You knew it wouldn't bother him, he wasn't like that, you knew that now, but you were still a little self-conscious. It was probably the nerves regarding today. The reality was setting it. The slight doubt… 

Soojung wasn't helping. 

“There’s steaks on the menu that are more than our rent a week," she awed, looking down at her phone. 

Why had you given her the name of the restaurant again? You would never learn your lesson. She had already googled his name when you’d told her he was the CEO of LG and she had been this close to searching his net worth before you’d stopped her. You didn’t want to know, not only was it incredibly invasive, it made you feel slightly faint. Seeing his image pop up online was enough for you . A professional headshot, he smiled kindly into the camera lens. It was crazy to think that it was the man you’d be going to dinner with. 

Soojung would be good for one thing though – helping you decide on an outfit for tonight. Taehyung had gone home a couple of hours ago, needed at the bar he owned so she had nothing else better to do. Not that she was listening to you though… 

She shrugged. “What did I expect? This dude is a billionaire." 

“He’s not." 

Billionaire seemed a lot more intimidating than a millionaire, but in reality what was the difference? He was unbelievably rich and you were just... you. You shook your head, attempting to claw yourself out of the anxiety hole you'd found yourself in. His job didn't matter. The restaurant he'd chosen didn't matter. You were going for dinner with him to enjoy his company and get to know him better. The finer details were irrelevant. 

“Come on! If not he must be a multi-multimillionaire." She rationalised. "His dad is the billionaire."

You groaned. "Will you stop making me nervous and help me pick something to wear?" 

You decided on the midi dress you'd actually worn to Eunbi's wedding last summer. It was the only fancy thing you had – or at least fancy enough to dine at a restaurant that sold insane dollar steaks. But wait, the restaurant wasn't supposed to matter, remember? 

You still wanted to look nice though. The dress was modest in itself but maybe the colour was a bit eye-catching – a deep red. Soojung said it was perfect and you'd knock his Dilf socks off. By now you were getting sick of the word. You told her as much.

"What if I don't want to sleep with him?"

"As if." She scoffed. "Your dry spell has gone on far too long. You deserve this." She caught the look of apprehension on your face. "When you're ready of course."

"Don't make me –”

"Nervous, I know" she finished for you, sighing loudly. "There's no need to be. Mr. Dilf is whipped for you, I just know it."

How did she know? She hadn't even met him, but you appreciated the sentiment. You did not appreciate it when she was being a clever bitch though. 

"I'm just trying to work this out." She said, watching you apply your mascara in the bathroom mirror. It was much later in the day now, about forty minutes before Seokjin was due to pick you up. You were dressed, hair up, makeup nearly done, and sick to your stomach with anticipation. You hummed, letting her know you'd heard her and to continue. 

"You were mad when Dilf spent money on your car but you're okay with him spending mad money on you at this restaurant?" 

"Soojung," you warned, staring at her reflection in the glass. 

She held her hands up in apology. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just curious. Is it okay when it's food?"

You sighed. You knew it didn't really make sense, you guessed, but well, you'd said yes to the dinner. You hadn't said yes to the car being repaired. That was the difference. 

"I'm not going to order the most expensive thing on the menu." 

"Well, don't just order a side salad, he'll think you're weird..." 

You simply stared at her. Her input was so appreciated. 

.

.

“He’s here, oh my god, he’s here!” Soojung screamed, spying through the voile curtains in the living room. "Ten minutes early. I love that." 

“Soojung, move away, now." You told her sternly. 

“The fucking car–” She cut herself with a muffled sound. As if she was trying to stifle her own screams. You guessed he'd gotten out of said car. “What the fuck, what the fuck, he’s SO hot. I’m going to pass out."

“Soojung!" Dropping your phone into your purse you slipped on your heels, nearly tripping over in the process. You gripped onto the back of the couch just in time. "I swear to god if he sees you." 

She spun around, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You never said he was that hot." 

You shrugged. "You never asked."

"I asked every goddamn second of the day. You lucky bitch." She walked towards you, fixing a piece of your hair that had fallen into your eyes. “How come you get hot billionaire Dilf and I get the man-child whose special talent is making cocktails." 

"Shut up," you scoffed. She loved Taehyung and his cocktail making skills. That's how they'd met after all. She drunk at the bar three days a week for a month straight until he asked her out. 

The doorbell rung and you froze, remembering how nervous you were. Soojung's antics had distracted you for a while but now reality was setting in. As you turned to leave she tapped your ass. “Get that Dilf dick, girl!”

"Soojung, I swear to god –”

"I won't wait up."

Ha. As if. She'd be glued to that window until Seokjin dropped you off back home. You knew her all too well, you'd been best friends for over ten years. 

In the entryway now, you didn't have time for breathing exercises. Although, you wished you'd had once you opened the door to see Seokjin stood there looking devastating handsome. 

“Hi," he smiled, eyes lighting up when he saw you. 

“Hey," you managed to squeeze out, cemented to the ground. 

He was dressed in a double breasted navy two piece that must have been tailored to fit his body down to the millimetre, a crisp white dress shirt on underneath. His hair looked shorter, falling just above is eyebrows and parted slightly in the middle. He looked good enough to eat. Or good enough to make you pass out. Either one. 

“You look beautiful," he awed, rendering you pretty speechless. 

This was a date. It really was a date. 

"Thank you," you managed to reply, needing to return the compliment. But what could you possibly say?! “You look…really good." 

Oh god. How embarrassing. 

Especially when Seokjin burst out laughing, that familiar squeak to it that you'd heard at the parent-teacher meeting. "I'll take it. Thanks." He tilted his head. "Are you ready to go? I'm a bit early, I know. Sorry about that." 

You nodded, clutching your purse tight to your side. "I, uh... I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing." You raised your voice a little so she'd hear you, but on her best behaviour she stayed deathly silent. Well done, Soojung. 

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but you figured you'd fill him in inside the car. "It's fine," he shook his head.

Seeing you stepping forward he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to invite you to lead the way. You did, making sure not to look back towards the living room window, because you knew for a fact you'd see Soojung pressed up against it. 

.

.

“This is all new for me.” Seokjin admitted, sat opposite you as you waited for your dessert. “I haven’t been on a date for years.”

To say the night had gone well would be an understatement. At first you’d been too nervous to even breathe, especially with Seokjin looking like that just a few centimetres away from you as he drove. It didn’t help that he seemed to be some type of regular at the restaurant, getting greeted as if he was an old friend of the manager and led to his ‘usual’ table; a quiet spot away from the hustle and bustle. It turned out he co-owned the place with his brother, looking mildly embarrassed as he told you. It was cute, but he had nothing to be self-conscious over, this was his life, normal to him. I hope you don’t see it as a cop-out, he confessed, causing some confusion your end. Why would you see it that way? This restaurant was beautiful, certainly popular, and you couldn’t wait to try the food. You told him as much and he laughed about feeling nervous now. 

You tried lobster for the first time ever – his recommendation. It was kind of messy, but he ordered the same so you were both in it together. You laughed, you joked, you got to know one another more. Conversation came easy, both relaxed in one another’s company, and after the main you both decided to share a dessert, too stuffed for anything more. 

“Snap,” you grinned, silently happy that was the case, although rather amazed. Seokjin was, well… him, who wouldn’t want to snap him up? However then again, he was a busy, divorced father. Dating probably wasn’t high up on his list. You were so distracted by his confession, you didn’t even comprehend he’d used the word ‘date.’ 

“Really?” Seokjin’s eyes bulged slightly. Why was he so surprised? 

You shrugged casually. “It’s been well over a year since my last date.”  

Seokjin’s mouth curved, amused. “Try over ten.” 

“I wasn’t aware this was a competition,” you laughed, but yes, he indeed had you beat. 

He laughed along, the arrival of your lemon cheesecake interrupting you both for a moment. It was a few bites later when the conversation got back on track again, Seokjin’s tone careful as he looked across at you, both of you reaching for another bit of the cheesecake with your dessert forks. “You don’t mind me calling this a date, do you? This isn’t the part where you tell me you’ve been in a relationship for five years and you just thought this was an innocent thank you dinner?”

You giggled softy, shaking your head. “No. I don’t mind you calling it a date.” You brought the fork up to your mouth, taking your time to chew before you continued. “Soojung was adamant it was but I… didn’t want get my hopes up?” You wanted to be honest. This night was about opening yourself up to the uncertain. 

“Soojung, your best friend? The one you live with?” He asked. 

You nodded. You’d already told him all about your best friend, about how you lived with each other. Seokjin hadn’t bat an eyelid, which was nice. You weren’t embarrassed or anything, but the differences in your living arrangements were stark. He thought it sounded fun. He still remembered living with his best friend Namjoon back in college and how entertaining that had been. He’d definitely be up for it again if they weren’t both dads now – divorced at that, but hey ho, that was life. 

“Well, she was correct.” Seokjin continued. “I thought I made it clear but I guess I was too cryptic.” 

“So, which one is it?” You asked, lifting an eyebrow in interest. “Not an innocent thank you dinner or not an innocent dinner?” 

You were feeling brave, however your heart still thudded inside your chest, adrenaline whooshing through your veins. There was something about Seokjin that made you act so out of character… 

Seokjin failed to conceal the visible surprise across his features and you watched him swallow before he composed himself, a smirk appearing on his lips immediately. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were flirting with me right now.”

You shrugged. “I’m just checking if your intentions are innocent or not?” You took another bite of the cheesecake. 

His smirk grew, and you watched him drop his fork onto the plate to lean back in his chair. “I would say they are, however, I did have plans to kiss you on the cheek tonight, so maybe, busted?” He chuckled then, at himself – he liked doing that you’d noticed. It was kind of cute. 

The butterflies were back. Now there was no need to ignore or try to explain them. You took them as what they were – a good sign. Humming aloud, you tilted your head to the side and pretended to contemplate. “I think I can let you do that.” 

Seokjin laughed. “You can? Okay, that sounds good.” 

You reached for your glass of wine, needing a sip just to calm the flurry inside of you. Seokjin tucked his chair closer, still laughing but quietly now, more like a chuckle. “Honestly, I was pretty much shitting my pants today.” 

You snorted into your glass, taken by surprise at his choice of words. “Sorry,” you apologised, feeling a little bit embarrassed by the sound that had just left your nose. He didn’t same fazed. “I was nervous too.” 

That seemed to settle him. He smiled fondly, fingers tracing the brim of his glass. “I guess we were being silly.” His lips parted to say something else but he hesitated. You watched him take a quiet exhale, then he continued. “My therapist has been begging me to try dating again for months but the thought has always been pretty terrifying.” He gave a small shrug, his warm eyes locking with yours. “Until I met you.” 

You could feel your heart rate speeding up, unable to stop the smile that spread across your face. He was pleased, grinning back, posture visibly relaxing. “She said I should face up to my fears and just ask you out.” 

There were a lot of thoughts whirring through your mind right now. The fact he felt comfortable enough to disclose with you that he had a therapist, and the fact that he’d even mentioned you to her, that she had encouraged him to ask you out. The fact he’d liked you enough to want to take the plunge at all. After two years of being alone, you were the woman who had made him want to try again… It felt comparable to your own thoughts, to your feelings… and that’s why you felt so relaxed tonight. It just felt right. 

“I like you, Y/N.” He confessed. “I know we don’t know one another very well, but I hope that this is just the beginning.” 

Despite his words sending your butterflies crazy, you kept your cool, trying to stunt your smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, I guess.” 

He chuckled. You let yourself smile at the sound. “Not so bad. I’ll take it.” He picked up his fork again, taking a bite of the cheesecake you’d both forgotten about. His voice was careful, genuine to match his expression, when he carried on. “Despite the circumstances of how we met and what followed, I don’t know, I haven’t felt a spark like that in forever.” He reached for a sip of his wine, laughing. “What do you think? You can call me crazy if you want.” 

“I think you’re right.” There was no doubt about it now. You’d been adamant in the beginning that was nothing there – no spark, no flirting, insisting Soojung was wrong, but now you couldn’t deny the obvious attraction. You’d immediately bounced off one another that evening during the parent-teacher meeting, despite your annoyance the day before. 

You grinned. “You frustrated me to no end but I felt something too.” 

He tilted his head to the left, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Frustrated you? How so?”

“You know how,” you laughed. “I may or may not have called you an exasperating bastard in my head.” 

He couldn’t contain himself then, taken back and genuinely amused. “Oh god,” he practically wheezed. “I like that one.” 

You laughed along, unable not to when the sound he made brought you such joy. You reached for another forkful of cheesecake, the dessert nearly coming to an end. Just like the date, you thought. You didn’t want it to end, you were enjoying yourself too much. 

“What about now?”

You looked up at Seokjin, eyes widening in question. What did he mean? He was staggeringly composed now, although his eyes shone with mischief as he grinned and explained. “Do I frustrate you now?”

You tried to stunt your own smile, shrugging your shoulders. “Not tonight.” 

“At the fate?”

“Nope.” 

He nodded his head, seemingly happy with your answers. “I guess things are looking up then.” He picked up his glass again, about to take a sip before he paused and added,  “Although, I must admit, I liked frustrating you. You look so cute when your mad.” 

You felt heat immediately burn its way to your cheeks, hoping the lighting in this restaurant was dim enough not to make it obvious. He took a swig of his wine. “Watch it, Mr. Kim.” As he chuckled it muffled inside the glass.  

You went for the last piece of cheesecake, figuring you were owed that now. You looked across at him as you chewed, knowing that if you really wanted this to happen again you needed to let him know. Face up to your fears of opening up, telling people how you really felt. “I’d like to get to know you better, Seokjin.”

“Really?” He sounded hopeful, fingers playing with the rim of his wine glass again. 

“Mmhm.” You nodded. “You seem like a lovely man if we ignore the car stealing...” 

“Hey,” he whined, “you apologised for that already, you can’t bring it up again.” You held your hands up in silent defence, chuckling silently, watching him lean closer. “But please, go back to what you were saying about me being a lovely man. Stroke my ego, it’s been a long week.” 

Had it? You were curious, concerned really. You thought to ask him if he wanted to talk about it, but you guessed the last thing he’d like to do was discuss work on a date. Instead, you decided to tell him about what attracted you most to him. The thing that had inevitably made you change your mind and realise that maybe, quite possibly, you’d misjudged him.

“Arin really adores you and I can see how much you dote on her. Any man cherished by his child is a good one in my eyes.” 

“Oh.” He simply replied, possibly at a loss of words. He looked touched – happy, but ultimately unsure of what to reply, so he bypassed it in a way, raising an eyebrow. “So is there some kind of checklist?” 

“What do you mean?” 

He gave a slight shrug. “Like, ‘kids like him – check.’ ‘He knows how to clean dishes – check.’ – I can by the way. I’m really good with a pair of washing up gloves and some dish soap.” 

You burst out laughing, not quite believing your ears. “Yeah, okay.” You admitted. “There’s a list.” Didn’t every woman have one? 

“Let’s see how I fare then.” Seokjin said, sounding sure of himself as he leant back in his seat, hands behind his head – the image of casual. Maybe you were into this cocky Seokjin… It was sort of hot. 

“Okay so…” You began, leaning forward. “Family man – check.” You’d already approved that one. “Loves animals?”

He scoffed. “Easy. Animals are so much better than humans.” 

Okay, more points his way… “Uhh.” You thought aloud, racking your brains. “Does he make me laugh?”

Seokjin mulled it over. “That sounds like a decision you have to make, but I think it’s a yes? I mean, you’ve been laughing all night. Unless you were just being nice.” 

“No, you are funny,” you confirmed, although you were unable to miss an opportunity to mess around with him. “You have that, what should I call it,” you pretended to think, “that old man type sense of humour.”

“Hey. I’m not that old,” he huffed. 

You chuckled quietly. True, he wasn’t old, but you were still surprised when you’d found out he was turning 38 this coming December. Some people were blessed with ageing gracefully. Of course he was one of them. The man looked amazing for someone two years away from forty. 

“What about you?” You wondered. “Do you have a checklist?”

He sat upright again, setting his elbow on the table to drop his chin in his palm, giving you his full attention. “Yes, and you check them all.” 

“I do?” You laughed in disbelief. Either he was easy to please or he wanted brownie points. 

He shrugged, as if to say of course. “You’re funny, caring, can be kind of scary at times – which I’m sort of into, to be honest.” 

“I’m not scary,” you protested, pouting slightly. However, what? He was into it? That made you feel funny…

He smirked. “I beg to differ.” 

You rolled your eyes. “What else do I check off?”

He didn’t need time to think. “You’re insanely beautiful.” Your dumbfounded expression made him second guess himself. He pulled a face. “Yikes. Too cheesy?”

You grinned, getting a hold of yourself. “Maybe, but then again, maybe I like that.” How could you not like being called beautiful? How could you not like receiving a compliment? Especially from him. 

He smiled, gazing into your eyes as he leant forward. You felt immediate warmth when his hand cupped yours across the table. This was the first time he’d touched you, right? Your mind was a blur right now, unable to recall two hours ago, let alone two weeks ago. When he spoke, you only felt warmer, the soft timbre of his voice fluttering through your whole body. “I’m really attracted to you, Y/N.” 

And what could you say to that? You swallowed, wetting your throat, realising it had become dry. He was waiting for a reply, amused by something – your blank looking face most probably. He had the ability to render you speechless, and he knew it. He liked it. 

Well, no, not on your watch. You’d get the last word. You’d win. 

Composing yourself, you slipped your hand from under his, tapping it lightly, as if you were consoling him. “I’ve said it once already, but you’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Kim.” 

Taken aback, he chuckled quietly in bemusement, shaking his head. “You’re going to give me wrinkles.”  

.

.

A man of his word, he did kiss you on the cheek after the date was over. He waited until he had driven you home and opened the door for you to step out of the car – ever the gentleman, you’d teased. You stood by the little gate that lead a pathway to your front door, and that’s where he’d leant down to place his lips ever so lightly against the top of your left cheek. You smiled shyly up at him, unable to play it cool this time. 

He looked a little rosy in the face too, unsure as he smiled. “I had a lovely time tonight.” 

“Me too,” you agreed. “Can I take you out next time?” You surprised yourself by the offer, that kiss must have shot some confidence into you. 

He looked surprised too, but into it, tilting his head in curiosity as he looked down at you. “Where do you suggest?”

“My place?” Okay, so it wasn’t ‘taking him out’ but you liked the idea best. Soojung could stay over Tae’s. She owed you one. “I can cook for you,” you offered, a hand unconsciously reaching for the collar of his jacket, straightening it for him. “To you know, return the favour of you paying for dinner to say sorry for paying for my car to get fixed.” 

His hand clasped around yours, dropping it between your bodies to hold it as he chuckled. 

“This is getting a little confusing now.” He swung your hand gently and you curled your little finger around his loosely. You could get used to this physical contact. It felt ordinary, like you’d been doing it forever. “Can’t we just call it dating and have done?”

You rolled your shoulders with a sigh, sounding casual and unbothered. “I guess, if it’s easier.” 

Seokjin’s laugh got lower, his face closer. His eyes kept looking between your eyes and lips, and you realised your heart was beginning to beat slower, or was it faster? You couldn’t tell anymore, but you could hear it pounding lightly inside your ears. You were in the middle of playing the same game – eyes then lips, eyes then lips – the seconds feeling more like minutes as he leant in closer and closer, but then – 

You spotted Soojung in the window as you happened to glance behind Seokjin’s shoulder. She had now totally bypassed the voile curtain, thinking she was Miss. Inconspicuous with the lights off. The street lighting was as bright as anything though, and all you could see was her face glowing like a ghost as she ruined the moment entirely. You were not having your first kiss with Seokjin in front of her prying eyes. 

Seokjin realised your attention was elsewhere now, awkwardly pulling back to scratch his neck with his free hand. You clutched at the hand that was holding yours, not wanting him to think you’d blown him off. He didn’t say anything though, just continued your conversation with a bemused smile. “Um, so what are you going to cook?” 

“What do you like?” You asked, only half your attention on him. Maybe you could silently signal to Soojung, tell her to get the hell out of the window before Seokjin noticed. 

“I’m easy,” you heard him reply. “What’s your speciality?”

“Uh…” Think Y/N, think. Distracted you said the first thing that popped into your head, still trying to force Soojung away with just your eyeballs. “Lasagne.”

“Lasagne?” He sounded interested. 

You finally met his eyes for more than five seconds, feeling a little panicky. “Yeah, my World Famous Italian lasagne.” 

Oh no. 

Seokjin laughed, dropping your hand to cup your cheek instead. Earlier, if this had happened you would have spontaneously combusted but now you had a case of the Nosey Friend and you couldn’t concentrate to save your life. “Okay, now you’re just talking big.” 

You couldn’t help it, your eyes attempting to dart past his shoulder again. He noticed – he’d probably noticed this entire time, an eyebrow of his raising. “What is going on over my shoulder?” 

You tried to stop him, clinging to his elbow, but he turned around anyway, eyes falling on Soojung immediately. You saw her instantly panic and jump back, dropping the curtain in front of the window again.  “That’s just Soojung,” you sighed. “Ignore her, she’s an idiot.” 

Seokjin was deeply amused, laughing as he turned back to you. “So, is next Saturday okay?” You pressed. 

He grinned. “Saturday sounds perfect to me.” 

As you said your goodbyes, Seokjin turned to the window and gave a small wave, chortling to himself. You couldn’t see Soojung anymore but you just knew she was still spying. But relieved Seokjin didn’t seem fazed, you made your way inside, giving Seokjin a wave by the door as he pulled off, feeling happy, yet a little sad the night was over already. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d enjoyed yourself like that. 

It was only when you were inside did you remember what you’d just done, too preoccupied to think properly beforehand. Oh God, the lasagne. Saturday night was going to be a disaster. 

Soojung came running into the entry way, interrupting your freak out. “He saw me! He saw me!” Her voice was shrill, and you couldn’t tell if it was because she was embarrassed or excited. 

“That’s what happens when you spy, idiot,” you swiped, kicking off your heels. The instant relief brought you no comfort. “Soo, I’ve done something stupid.” You admitted. 

She instantly looked worried. “What? What have you done?”

You sighed, already feeling like a fool. “Okay so, I invited him over next weekend and said I’d cook for him.” 

“Girl is horny for that D–”

“Shut up, that’s not the problem,” you stopped her. She looked puzzled. “You were distracting me!” It was all her fault. You weren’t taking the blame. “He asked me what I was gonna cook and I told him I make a World Famous Italian lasagne!” 

Your best friend was silent for an extended second, making sense of your words before she burst out laughing. Highly dramatic, practically doubled over, splitting her sides. Even more dramatic than you for freaking out over a damn lasagne. 

“You have never made lasagne in your entire life!” She exclaimed. “What were you thinking?” 

“It was your fault!” It was also her fault you didn’t get to kiss Seokjin properly too. But you weren’t going to bring that up now, unable to bear the constant teasing that would ensue. 

“My fault?!” She laughed. You just rolled your eyes. She did not appreciate that at all. “Whatever. I can’t wait to see your “World Famous Italian lasagne.” Make sure to save me some, won’t you?”

“Right,” you huffed. “For that, I’m not telling you how the date went.” 

She soon changed her tune, needing all the details just to be able to sleep tonight… 

Written 2020 - 2021.  Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[jawllines]

“You’re really gonna go in there?” Y/N queries gently, and Harry only nods his head in response, reaching for the door handle. An urgent, delicate touch of Y/N’s hand startles him, looping around his wrist and dragging his attention toward her, “Shouldn’t we have a game plan if something is behind the door?” She asks, her hold on him tightening just a little, and Harry notes how soft her palm feels against his skin, “Like, let’s say we open the door and a behemoth is standing there, what do we do?”

“The only behemoth that could fit in this tiny room is the band from Poland, Babe, and I reckon they have better things to do on a Thursday night,” he retorts, clenching around the knob and tilting it down, “Now unless you want to hold hands in there. . .”

She lets go before he can finish, and he doesn’t have to look back at her face to know she’s irate. A small smile quirks at his mouth as he pushes his shoulder against the heavy door to aid him opening it, bracing himself to see something potentially horrid. . .

And there’s nothing.

or

Harry and Y/N are witches, they hate each other, and something’s coming

19K+ words

(A/N: Hiii!! So, I’ll be honest I know absolutely nothing about real witches at all, so what is in this story is not fact! it’s just an AU and doesn’t speak toward any of my real witches out there unless i accidentally got some things right. Happy reading, I really liked writing these guys I hope you like them just as much!!)

i.

It was dark. 

Both in the state of the sky and the feeling that slithered through Y/N’s body while she tended to the Brugmansia finally flowering in her garden. The shift in the air could have easily been inculpated by the cool breeze that blew past her face, shepherding clouds thick and heavy with autumn rain, but Y/N knew better than that. Those feelings typically bring her peace; the rattle of thunder soothes her aching bones while fat drops paint the pavement, wet the dirt to mud, and feed the drying grass.

This feeling made her bones rattle. It crawled beneath her skin like billions of tiny beetles unearthed within her vessels; her stomach churned, her shoulders were weighed down, there was a gnawing pain at her temples, so fierce she held her hand to them. The cold brass of her ring cools her heated skin. This feeling was vile, it was awful, for fuck sake what was causing it? 

She stood from her crouched position and slid back into her store. Technically, she’d closed about three hours prior so she should have been home well by now, but when she’d finally gathered her things in her duffle at 12, she looked out the back window and noticed some of her moonflowers had begun to bloom. There was a small part of her that had been reluctant to step outside at all, but she needed to greet them and water them, no matter the odd, unfamiliar troubling sense that had initially confused her. She ignored it -- she thought maybe she was just nervous to say hi to them, sometimes she was. 

(Flowers and plants hold a special connection with their caretaker, from a tiny seed to a flourishing garden, they place their lives in the care of the earth or a human. If not properly nursed, their wilted petals appear so quickly, a silent plea for water, or sun, or even a little attention -- Y/N found that plants liked a little attention. That’s why she spoke to them, she cooed and gave them well-wishes when she left them alone. They felt just a part of her family as any blood relative had, from the moment she had sliced the tip of her finger in a torn brush and the petal she’d touched afterward fused together her tiny wound. Her nan had always told her that maybe she was a bit closer to plants than others were, so she probably shouldn’t share this with kids in her class because they might be jealous of her (Y/N knows now her nan just didn’t want her getting picked on.) 

It was clear to her now that this feeling was a bit more than that when her goose pimples sunk back into her skin after stepping into the warmth of her store. Though it was not just because she had been keeping her shop pleasantly warm as the nights grow colder and longer; she kept herself protected in here. In between these walls lied a sanctitude that kept all evil out, in all manners, of all species, besides two. 

One of which is her bunny, Thumper, who in all ways but emotionally was her familiar. He was a ghostly white Holland lop, with big dopey ears that she slid her fingers beneath and flipped up and down in spare moments. She accuses him of being evil because he’s always nipping at her fingertips, demanding food with a stomp of his foot, and gives the silent threat that he’ll nibble on her plants if she really pisses him off (he stands by them, twitches his little nose and shows his two front teeth until she gives him what he wants -- it’s usually more hay). He’s nothing but a little, greedy nuisance that showed up on her step one day and hadn’t left since.

The other. . .well, the other was Harry Styles. 

Y/N liked most witches, no matter their point of interest. She knew that there could be a certain level of distrust amongst the syndicate -- hexes, and curses placed upon one another, but she tried to stay out of that -- she held no disfavor toward most of the others either. Everyone connected with things very differently, what she may connect with might not be that of what her neighbor connected with and that was okay. Her nan’s emotions had been in accord with the sea, and even though Y/N spent most of her life fearing water, she bore no judgment. 

What she does is done in the mind of good favor, of bettering oneself with the world around them in a way that would beneficial to not only them but the people in their lives. Open up otherwise closed eyes to the beauty of the spirit and soul they possess, and the beauty and soul that the world around them held. The town she had moved to at 20 was so rich in natural beauty, ponderosa pine and hemlock trees grew tall in an extensive, juniper green forest almost always clouded with thick fog, the soil was soft and fertile, the air was crisp and clean. She felt happy here and wanted the others around her to recognize how lucky they were to be in an area so free of sordidity. 

There was an empty shop up the brick road of the older part of town, that had been crowded in cobwebs, leaves that had blown in from the broken window, and animal droppings. Her nan came to help her clean it up (her mum had too, but she was dog tired after her workweek so spent most of the visit asleep on Y/N’s couch), and did something short of absolving the land so that she could grow a garden behind the store, in the clearing of 200 or so meters before it meets the mouth of the forest. She sold herbs, people came to her for intricate, meaningful bouquets with flowers that could not be found in just any store (and she was good to her plants, so if she asked very kindly, and sent them with a packet that produced a very special brew when dumped in the water, they would live very, very, suspiciously long), plants that would liberate people of their aches and pains so long as they tended to them, journals of reused paper, scrubs, oils. . .there were many things. She offered classes too, to help people learn how to better cater to their flowers.

That had been a year ago, so she was still finding her footing, but not six months into this happy reality she had created for herself, Harry Styles had come to town. It took nothing but a few minutes of coming to contact with him that he was a bad apple, and when the once sweet-tempered town had begun mottling with dark splotches, she knew for sure. Harry was like her, but his book of shadows had pages filled with wicked words of revenge, conjuring demons and letting them wreak havoc. His business was more under the cuff -- he posed as a writer who needed a scenery change for his work, but Y/N knew it had to be more than that -- but he did his bidding in the night, seeding through clubs, in alleyways, in the forest. . .if someone knew about Harry, it was because they knew a guy who knows a guy. 

And for some reason, unbeknownst to her, he refused to leave her be. 

This is why it almost makes sense that the bell of her store would jingle brightly no matter the fact she’d locked the doors hours ago, and her attention would be brought to the pest himself. He wore a sweater that threatened to swallow him whole, and baggy, holey jeans he rolled at the cuff showing off his bat printed socks, stuffed into grandpa-Esque loafers. The necklace he always wears around his neck (a small pendant that she had never gotten close enough to make out) is sat atop of his sweater today rather than hidden beneath it as it usually is. His hair is getting longer, more unruly with his warm brown curls than it had been when she first met him -- she really hadn’t known he’d had curly hair until the more recent months when it had started growing out. 

His eyes were always the same soft, crystal green that matched his character none, and a pawky smirk on his mouth as he dragged his fingers along the lavender jars placed on her shelves, “Shouldn’t you be home by now? I figure it’s past your bedtime.” He leans down like he is about to pick something up, and when Y/N peers over the counter, she sees him slide his hand beneath Thumper’s soft white belly and pull him up to his chest. That was another indicator that Harry was just no good -- he was the only human that he liked, and the little creatine didn’t even like her. 

“Shouldn’t you?” She flips it, continuing to gather her things so she could head home for the night.

“You know these are my typical hours, Babe -- everyone wants to curse someone at 1 AM, there was a study done in the east end.” He pets between Thumper’s ears as he sets him down on the counter beside the cash register, before he reaches out for the wooden crafted incense burners, “Have these cheap little things been selling any?” 

“Piss off,” she stuffs her phone into her purse, then flips through her things to make sure her wallet was tucked in there as well, “What do you want, Harry? I’m about to go home, if you wanted to come around to bother me you should have hours ago.”

Harry feigns a gasp like he does any time she curses, “Thought good little witches didn’t have such foul tongues?” He flicks the candle jar on her counter, an apple scent had been melting around the wick for the better half of the day, “I don’t want anything in particular, just passing through. You know you’re right in the way of the forest, don’t you? S’kinda of obnoxious when you’re trying to summon imps at the cave -- they hate the bloody “stench” of the flowers.” 

“Good,” she retorts, “You shouldn’t be summoning around here anyway, this area’s off-limits.”

It was barely an agreement but still an agreement nonetheless -- if Harry left her be, she would leave him be because Y/N wasn’t an idiot. If he wanted a fight, Harry could start one and he would fight dirty. All she asks him is to stay away from her store and her flat, and to keep away from certain areas of the forest where the soil was always soft -- in return, he would do his activities, sometimes he would need her flowers for different spells and she would turn a blind eye to what he was doing. She does a few gentle protection spells here and there but otherwise, he’s a free man to do as he pleases, just so long as he respects her request. He’d seemed perturbed by the conditions none -- had even chuckled and said as long as he let her keep her “pretty little flowers” he could get away with murder. 

A heavy, weary sigh leaves him, “Yes, I’m well aware,” he rolled his eyes before crossing his arms on top of the counter and tucking his face in his elbow,  “Gimme a moment though, it’s warm in here and I was freezing outside.” He muffles into his sweater. 

Y/N had almost forgotten what she had felt prior to coming back inside, but his words bring it clearly to the forefront of her mind once more. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, hearing the floorboards creak beneath her as she wondered if he’d felt it too. It couldn’t have been him -- no, he was powerful but by no means powerful enough to conjure up something like that. And she’d like to ask him, but Harry has never been someone who took her seriously -- he would just make a joke of it, probably, or tease her. It wouldn’t be worth asking. 

But the feeling that she’d gotten is chewing on her memory, so she asks anyway, “Hey,” she began and the only indication that he was listening to her is the fact his fingers stopped tapping against the wood beneath them, “Did you. . .when you were outside, did you feel that?” 

He picks his head up from the crevice of his arm, “You’re gonna have to be a bit more descriptive than ‘that’,” his brows are raised as he continues, “Are you talking about the new pleasant but cold breeze we’ve gained for autumn, or the gut-twisting odious one?” 

Y/N looks at him impassively, “The latter, idiot.” 

“Yeah, I felt it,” he ignores her insult, “What about it?” 

The skin between her brows pinches, “Are you not concerned? It felt. . .bad,” she couldn’t think of a better word to describe it, “I didn’t like it at all.” 

“Are you scared?” There is delight swimming in Harry’s gaze as he stands up straighter, “Don’t tell me Glinda the Good Witch herself is scared of a little frightening feeling? I thought you were tough as nails and all that, hm?” 

“Never mind, forget I even brought it up,” she tried to dismiss it, as she slings her purse over her shoulder and plucks Thumper up to sit him in the cradle of her arms -- she knew better than to ask him like she might get any comfort at all from his words. 

He steps up and in front of her before she could start toward the door, “Oi, listen scaredy-cat, I don’t know if you’re aware but I deal with shite like this all the time, which means I’ve got a few banishments spells up my sleeve. If it’s really something that awful, I’ll cast it back to hell, easy as that.” Harry follows close behind her as she exits the door, feeling the same shiver of fear slither through her body, “I do want to see what it wants first though.” 

“Of course you do,” she utters in disappointment, “Just keep it away from my garden, please.” 

“I’ll try,” he tells her just as she reaches her car before he dips into his pocket and reveals that he’d stolen a baggy of chamomile, “If I didn’t keep your precious garden safe, then I wouldn’t have anywhere to get enchanted chamomile, and it works lovely in a sleepy time tea, I’ll tell you that -- your lavender is shit though. Never puts me to sleep like it ought to.” 

She pops open her car door, “Stop taking stuff from the store, or I’ll start lacing it with laxatives.” 

“While you’re doing that, won’t you plant them Clathrus mushrooms? I reckon the imps would prefer them way more than the mums.” He looks serious -- not a trace of a joke laced in his features and somehow that leaves Y/N more irritated than if he were laughing at her as he spoke. 

Her response is blunt, “No.” 

“Listen --”

“Harry, I’m not going to plant mushrooms for the damn imps!” 

                                                         .                             .                          .

When Y/N had met Harry, she was angry. 

She had never been a very angry person. Seldom has someone or something truly has gotten so deeply beneath her skin that she felt the need to yell or grump about it -- mild irritation was never off the table, but true, unadulterated wrath and resentment? It was rare she ever felt the need to even make a snide comment. And that wasn’t to say she was better than anyone else, she was just mild-tempered and forbearing. . .it took a little more than a remark or two to make her angry.

But when she was angry, she was an amalgamation of vexation and fire, and there was no surer way to disrupt her peaceful demeanor than to compromise her flowers. 

The day had been uneventful up to that point. It’d been a week since Harry had moved into town and Y/N was surely feeling the negativity that followed in his wake, but she was focusing on maintaining the tranquil, idyllic environment that she had around her previous. As much as she would have loved to seek him out, ready to squabble, tell him off for bringing any dark energy into such a calm place -- she had to come at it pragmatically. She and her friend Niall (who wasn’t a witch but knew about her) had both agreed that while it was aggravating, they didn’t know him. They did not understand the depth of his power, or what he was here for, nor had they understood wholly what he was capable of. Y/N had felt his presence, but Niall had confirmed it after hearing the underground chatter of a dark witch who made promises to turn glitter to gold. 

She was on her way to her store. Though she was closed on weekends, she always went by to check on the flowers, water them, tell them about her day, and with her was Thumper who would be hopping around the grassy field and gnawing on the blades. It was very peaceful -- the time she spent with her plants -- so she always looked forward to it, but that day she was filled with trepidation as she parked her car. Something was off. . .not in the air, but with her flowers -- she could feel it deep in her marrow that they were in pain. 

So she huffed it to the back of the store, and there she found Harry, two of her purple vervains nestled against his palm. He noticed her before she could even think to say anything, and something short of relief had flushed through him, “Oh thank fuck, you’re here,” he sighs, referencing her garden with a wave of his hands, “I cannot for the life of me remember what hazel looks like.” 

“What the hell are you doing?” Y/N demanded, stomping toward him, but instead of shoving him to the ground like she wanted to, she dropped to her knees and caressed the remaining vervain, “Why would you pluck them like that? They aren’t ready!” 

“Ready? They’ve flowered haven’t they?” His brows had been tilted while his mouth dipped in a frown, “I need them for an incantation, figured you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed these two. Aren’t we meant to help each other out?”

 “You should have asked, you prick,” she pointed up at him, “And even if you had, I would have said no. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you’re really disturbing an otherwise pleasant place. I wish you would leave.’ 

Harry feigned hurt, placing a hand to his chest, “You wound me,” he mocks her, “Listen Glinda Good Witch, we all gotta get by somehow, yeah? Not all of us talk to plants or whatever it is you do. So do you want me to pay or --” 

“Those won’t work for whatever it is you’re trying to do,” she cut him off, “If it’s something with cruel intent, it won’t happen -- they were grown to do good.” 

“Which is exactly why I needed them from you,” he wiggles them in her direction, “Well, I need to get going. You’re awful in particular about a garden that is subpar at best. Wish you well, see you later.” 

Then he left. No guilt, no apology -- he just up and left, and Y/N was livid. 

(Later that night when she had explained the situation to Niall, he was nothing short of outraged, so they had tried to find out more about Harry. Anything about him, really, but he leaves a very little paper trail in his endeavors -- from public records they find that he’s 25 and from Holmes Chapel, and from a google search they find he has two books out, published online, and doing decently well. There was nothing else apart from that, he kept his socials pretty dry, and what he did post was nonsensical drivel.)

Y/N thinks about this, as she sinks into her tub, the burning water scalding against her skin. Harry had always driven her mad but he has never seemed half as angry as she was -- hell if anything he always seemed like he enjoyed it. 

He was just absolutely rotten. 

                                                           .                                  .                           .

Harry thinks Y/N is just absolutely rotten. 

There were many reasons that he had classified her as such, but namely what he was concerned about now was how she kept her shop closed on the weekends. 

Who kept their store closed the entire bloody weekend?

It wasn’t so much that he wanted to see her -- Harry actually found the girl quite plaguy. Her opinions on his practice were priggish, not unlike the others like them he had met in the past. There has always been an unfaltering stigma that was carried with what he did, one that was quite hard to shake within the factions of other witches that are sprinkled across the world. He’s seen as careless, cruel, greedy, and selfish -- he doesn’t practice magic for the love of the world around him, to feel a deeper, spiritual connection with the fecund soil that covered the earth, or with the water gently slipping past rocks along a stream bank. They look at him and see someone who shakes hands with the devil and ruins lives for a cookie. 

Harry lets them think as they wish, he has no patience to attempt correcting them. If they’d bothered to learn an inch about him at all before passing their judgment then they would have a clue about his true character, but the jury had already made the decision before Harry even realized he was on trial. They never really wanted to give Harry a chance, so he knew he would be hated no matter where he decided to reside. The pack mentality that they carry is the reason he has to move around so often though (more than any 25 years old was typically doing) he gets run out of a lot of areas because a group of soft witches decides he’s no good. 

That’s what drew him to this place -- there was practically nobody. He could sense when there were more like him loitering around an area, and made an effort to keep a decently low profile so that he could stay around longer (but they always managed to find him), but here, he only sensed one. That had been good enough for him to know this was the right move -- the beautiful scenery surrounding them; the soft bed of dirt that Harry’s feet would sink into easily; the dense, damp fog that covered the forest floor in the early mornings; the lush, green trees and how life seemed to remain there when it was meant to be waning in the colder months -- all of that, had only been a plus. 

When he’d met Y/N, he knew that she disliked him, but Harry had expected as much so it disturbed him none. If anything, he was delighted to have a purer witch than himself around, all things considered. There were no others that she could develop a hive mind with to drive him out of town, but she was no competition to the businesses that he provided, and when a decoction called for an obscure plant or an unsullied petal -- well, a Garden witch was not the worst kind to have nearby. She may be devout in her notions that Harry was a disagreeable, repugnant being, but she was good at what she did. Anything done with her plants was twice as effective as any other person’s flowers he’d used in the past, so it was necessary he bothered her often. 

She refused to sell to him -- something about her doing business with a demon, or whatever she’d said -- but so long as he doesn’t go and cut them from the stem himself, she helps him out. Will give him the plants he needs, and in return, he doesn’t taint certain areas of the town and the forest that she declared were off-limits. It was a spoken commercial agreement that both of them went by and because of it, their lives near to one another were comparatively peaceful to any other situation Harry has found him in prior. 

That didn’t come without its faults. They butt heads often, their bickering is nonstop, and Harry could think of many things he would rather do than have to stay in a room with her for longer than the ten minutes it takes him to get what he needs. It was fun to fluster her -- getting beneath her skin was an easy feat that he found a lot of joy in, and sometimes she gave him a run for his money. He always kind of liked making a normally mild-tempered person grump at him a little, if not for his impish ways, then so he could get to know them as their full self. 

So he wasn’t mad that she was closed because he particularly wanted to see her, no, he was mad because he was exhausted. Absolutely drained. The business was incredible when you’re the only dark witch willing to do some questionable, immoral things, but that also meant long nights and incredible emotional toil -- it wasn’t a walk in the park to conjure up a bloody demon! 

Ever since Harry had started this path, he’d had immense trouble sleeping at appropriate times, if he could fall asleep at all. He guesses this was what he gets in return for what he practices, and it could be worse so he doesn’t mind it too much, but it was still a hassle. It had been a good four years since Harry just had a good, peaceful night of sleep. 

Up until he had moved here, of course, because the same little garden witch that thought he was the devil incarnate, made a tea he could brew that set him right to sleep. Kept him asleep the entire night too, which had always been an impossible endeavor spanning back to when he was a child, but there was something about her chamomile -- hell, it really knocked him out. 

He tested his theory -- part of him thought that maybe chamomile was suddenly working for him, but no matter the brand that he tried, or the amount of tea he drank, none of it could compare to what Y/N’s did. When he visited her store, he took what he could to hold him off to the next time he came by. He hadn’t realized how low he was though when he had seen her last and she threatened to lace it with laxatives -- he should have taken two because he used his last bit the night prior to the one he’s suffering through right now. 

And he could have gotten more this morning if she didn’t close her stupid shop on weekends!

If Harry were not positive that he needed to rest, he wouldn’t bother to be trying. There was nothing worse to him than the laying in his bed and waiting for sleep that refused to come...it felt like he was being stood up by a date. It hasn’t happened often, but enough that Harry could match the feeling low in his stomach, indicative of discontent and sadness while he waited. . . . .and waited. . . .and waited. . . .and waited. 

It was useless -- the universe’s retribution for summoning spirits to the living world left him with what a doctor might diagnose as chronic insomnia, but none of the treatments did him any good. No mortal medicinal could soothe him of this ailment. So one would think he would be smarter about keeping a hearty stock of it at his disposal rather than one at a time, but Harry never claimed to be the best at planning ahead. 

And now here he was, staring at his ceiling fan whirl, his cat at his side while he contemplated if breaking and entering her shop was against his morals (he had a few left, surprisingly). 

God, she was so rotten! 

                                               .                                     .                                 .

“Have you felt weird lately?” 

“Hm?” Niall’s face scrunches up in confusion, his mouth stuffed full of noodles he just slurpped into his mouth, “Wha’ d’ya mean?” He muffles out, reaching over to her side of the table for a napkin to dab at the corners of his mouth.

The record store that Niall worked at wasn’t too far from Y/N’s shop so if her day wasn’t too busy, she would step away from the store for her lunch break and seek him out. It was never a planned ordeal; Y/N would stop off somewhere to get them something to eat and appear at his storefront, the sharp ding of the bell knotted on the door alerted him of her presence. He was always one of two places: in the back, tuning the old guitars the owner would bid on different websites, or he was in the front thumbing through the record baskets, organizing and reorganizing them by name. Sometimes he would be sat behind the counter, with his feet kicked up just beside the register but Y/N scolds him for that (he’s always wearing a dingy, scuffed pair of shoes that have no business seeing the light of day, let alone be shown off to others). 

His head would perk up, he would look toward the door, and his face would bloom into one of sheer delight as he would call over to her, “Oh, thank fuck! Thought I would go crazy if I had to listen to myself think for one more second.” 

Today was no different. She brought him ramen from the place three buildings down from his own, where she bends down a street that feels more like an alleyway and the door is hidden beneath a brassy fire escape. The owners were always very kind to her, and since she came often and tipped well, they would give her free bowls if they were in the mood. Y/N never liked the idea of a one-sided relationship with a business, so she always brought them herbs, and gardenias to plant at home (they were the husband’s favorite). She takes their fliers and posts them up in high traffic areas too, and when they have their business cards made and an extra hundred or so, she slips them in the paper baggies that she gathers her customer’s things in before sending them on their way. 

Niall was grateful. He did a little cheer, left his spot from behind the counter, and urged her to follow him to the back where the break room was located (if a customer came around he would hear the bell and duck his head out to greet them, but for the most part their Tuesdays were pretty uneventful). He told her he had sensed her coming so he already had two stools set out for them to sit on, and napkins placed in the middle of the table, but she’s almost a hundred percent sure they had been left like that last time she was here. 

Try as she might to let her mind flee from the dark, hazed feeling that had overcome her last week, she couldn’t. Even as she listened to Niall prattle about some Gibson Les Paul custom that the owner purchased a while back, she struggled not to wonder what it was that was worming itself into her brain; slick tendrils of dismay overcame her. The true, unadulterated, execrable feeling only truly hits her in the night if she is outside the safety of her home or her shop, but otherwise, it was memories of this haunting aura that struck her throughout the day.

She couldn’t place her finger on it though, what it could be. There are feelings she garners when Harry summons certain spirits, but she can typically tell when he’s doing that, and they’ve never felt so. . .evil, before. What Harry deals with is evil, sure, but this was so smothered in turpitude that she couldn’t make it out. Like spilling black ink over a letter written in blue. 

That’s why she asks Niall -- it feels too strong for it to be something only felt by her and Harry. It would also soothe her mind if someone had felt it as horribly and heavily as she did, considering it wasn’t affecting Harry enough that he would try to banish the damn thing before things went sour. 

“Like, do things just not feel. . .off, to you?” She didn’t want to feed him any impressions of what she might be speaking about -- she would like to know if it were true to him. Niall is sweet as he could be, but not always when it was appropriate; he would tell her he did just to spare her from feeling foolish. It’s why she thought berets were her thing for about a month when really she looked like a washed-up indie artist trying too hard (Niall had agreed they weren’t her best fashion venture, but he certainly didn’t think they were that bad). 

His face contorts in a pout as he mulls it over in his head, stabbing his fork into the noodles and catching a bit of pork on two of the pronks, “Hm, let’s see. . .” he looks like he’s spinning through a Rolodex, “I have not for the life of me mustered enough energy to have a wank in about a week, that’s some cause for concern,” when she responds with a blank stare, he holds his hands up, “Okay, fine -- Butternut was biting at the air when I took him on his walk the other night -- like. . .chomping at it, I was actually gonna ask you what that might be about.”  

Now, don’t get Y/N wrong, any other time Niall would have told her that his great Pyrenees puppy was yapping and chomping at the wind, she would have brushed it off. “Niall, you’re just going to have to accept that he’s going to be a big, sweet dummy when he’s older.” But she was so desperate for something, anything -- because if something felt it other than she and Harry, then she wouldn’t feel quite as crazy. 

“Sometimes it feels a bit like something’s watching me,” he tacks on at the end, taking the brown napkin from the stack in between them and dabs roughly at his mouth, “At night, when I’m walking Butternut, I get these chills but there’s no wind around.” 

Y/N leans forward, thankful, “Yeah?” she presses, “Is it like -- describe it. What does it feel like?” 

“Y’know, I do forget you’re a witch until times like these,” he leans back in his chair, a heavy sigh slides from his lips before he closes his eyes like he’s trying to place himself back at the moment, “I’ll tell ya what, it’s fuckin’ -- it’s a bit like I feel it right down to my bones, but then --” he opens his eyes, raises his closed fists and flicks his fingers out at her, “Poof, s’gone as quick as it came and I forget about it. My nan used to tell me that was the devil patting your shoulder, but if it went away quick s’because an angel kicked his arse out of there.” 

It’s enough, Y/N decides, so she nods and relaxes back in her seat, “Okay, good.” 

“Good?” His brows furrow, as he reaches for his can of soda and the aluminum can crinkles beneath his fingers, “Tell you that I get chills and you’re relieved? Should I be relieved too, or worried?” 

“It isn’t anything to concern over, I don’t think,” she explains to him, “If anything changes I’ll let you know.” 

Niall uses one of his fingernails to dig the dirt from beneath the other, “Did that Harry bloke muster some horrible demon up again?” His voice is laced with vexation. Niall wasn’t a hard guy to get along with -- he was loud and Irish, could chat up a storm about anything and everything, and while he could be scrappy at times, it was for all the right reasons. He was equanimous in most situations, even-tempered to a fair degree; if Y/N were in a situation where a cool, calm collected head would be the best approach then Niall was definitely the person she wanted on her side. 

(Like when they had to drive home from a day trip to the massive lake just north of them, but the roads hadn’t been pretreated for the icy sleet that gripped the pavement. He drove them the whole way on the windy roads with little traction from the tires to the road, and was still bobbing his head and singing along to Ed Sheeran on the radio). 

But Harry Styles? Oh, the mention of his name could dig right beneath Niall’s skin. Y/N would like to think that it was because he was so cruel to her, but she knows that there are two main reasons Niall is not too fond of him nor his craft. One of which is the fact that he slept with Liana (she happened to be one of Niall’s flings at the time -- there were plenty, but Y/N only remembered this one’s name because she shared it with a woody stem rooted to the forest soil that made for easy climbing), and the other, the fact that he had helped the captain of the opposing summer footie team with one of his enchantments to make them win. There are few things Niall cares for so deeply that he would dislike someone, but his sex life and his footie were two things a person just couldn’t mess up for him. 

“No, it wasn’t him this time,” she clears her throat, pushing the rest of her ramen around idly, “It’s a bit too strong to be his doing -- more sinister too. He conjures mostly petty demons; the little ones that don’t have much better to do anyway. This is something. . .I don’t know, it just feels different.” 

Niall sighs heavily, “Well, thanks for that, reckon I won’t be sleeping tonight,” he pushes the container away from himself to signify he’s done and when she takes a peek inside and sees nothing but a few noodles limp along the sides, “I like that you keep me in the loop, but sometimes I wish you would let me live in ignorance.” 

“You know, I would apologize, but you’ve gone into an in-depth description of your arsehole to me so I thought any boundaries and forms of secrecy were long gone by now.” 

His brows furrow features contorting into that of the same desperation he had come to her with two months ago, “Ugh, c’mon! You’re practically like a witch doctor or somethin’, I thought you would have a cream or something for it.” 

“You had a hemorrhoid, Niall, for fuck sake! Even if I were a “witch doctor” then I would never let you put anything that came from my plants on your filthy bum.” 

Niall stands, gathering their trash from the break room table but using his free hand as he passes her, he swats her shoulder, “You better be nice to me, or you’re gonna have to start eating lunch with Styles.” He steps on the level for the waste bin, throwing the trash in the bag, “Though I think you two would just end up hate fucking and the food would go cold.” 

“No,” she rolls her eyes, “I would never let that Gremlin near my naked body.” 

“Listen, I’m not saying I want the guy anywhere near your naked body,” he plops back down in his seat, “What I am saying is that you lot have such unbridled sexual tension it is practically palpable when I’m at the shop with the both of you. Maybe it’s ‘cos the two of you are the only witches, and opposites at that.” 

Y/N snorts, “Maybe if we were in some enemies to lovers film, sure.” 

   After they finish their break, and Y/N realizes that she’s been with him for a little over an hour, they make plans to meet up tomorrow for a movie and she heads out. The air was cool -- when she had made her way over here the sun had been glittering rays down that bathed the world in gold, but it was now hidden beneath an overcast of thick clouds. Rain always carried a familiar scent just before it started to pour and Y/N had forgone a jacket, so she huffed her way back, breathless by the time she made it up the hill and saw Harry leaning against her door. 

The sight of him makes her exhausted, but not in the usual way it does. He looks awful -- and typically he doesn’t! Y/N could admit that Harry was gorgeous; his hair always appeared soft, loose curls dispersed along the brunette strands, his eyes are a sea green, tender in his gaze when he wasn’t being an absolute prick and always bright (even when he was). His lips were pink, shaped perfectly, and his skin is typically smooth but even when he grows out his facial hair it still manages to look good. He had dimples. . .hell, Y/N would place a bet that he’d made a deal with the devil to look like that. 

But today, he just looked worn down, and exhausted, like he might not have slept the entire weekend. His eyes were closed, his hands were in his pockets and his chin was tilted down towards his chest. If not for the way his head perked up immediately when her foot crunched into the gravel pathway leading up to her store from the small parking area (that was more so a beaten down, once grassy area now just dirt with tire tracks in it), she would have thought he was asleep standing up. There’s relief in his eyes when they meet her own, which she isn’t used to seeing from him, “Thank fuck.” 

“You look horrible,” Y/N slides her hand into her pocket, pulling out her keys so she could unlock the door, “Budge over.” 

“I feel it,” he rubs tiredly at his eyes, “Go on and open up quickly then. Why the hell do you keep your store closed on weekends?” 

Y/N fits her hand over the knob, twisting it and shoving the door open with her shoulder. Thumper greets them at the door, nudging the top of his head against her ankle, “Do you work every night?” 

“No --” 

“I keep it closed on weekends for the same reason why you don’t work every night,” she heads toward the counter, settling her things down and reaching in for Thumper’s hay stash so that she could give him some, “What’re you here for? You usually come around to bother me later.” She chances petting at Thumper’s head for a moment, and since he was preoccupied with his hay he would allow it.

“Fuck!” Y/N startles, popping up from behind the counter, looking back up only to see Harry with wide, disgruntled eyes, “Where’s your chamomile?” 

Her brows dip, “I’m out right now, so --” 

“How the hell did you run out? Shit, what am I going to do now, hm? Shouldn’t you keep up with shite like this?” He’s going a mile a minute, he’s walking closer to her, distress was written all over his face and Y/N is alarmed to a fair degree -- Harry’s always seemed very collected and calm, it was seldom she ever seen him have more emotion than pure elation to fuck with her or displeased with her presence. 

“ -- so I’m going to make more today. What’s going on with you? Why are you so pissy over it?” She finishes her previous thought, watching as he leans against the counter, propping his face up with his hand and she could now more clearly make out the bags beneath his eyes.

He rubs at his temple with the finger closest to it, “The only way I can sleep is with your bloody tea,” he grumbled, “That’s why I come around all the time -- well, that and to fuck with you, but mostly the tea.” 

“Oh?” She reaches down, plucking Thumper from where he’d been positioned by her feet and setting him on the counter. He thumps his foot at her once but eventually makes his way over to Harry, sniffing at his chin before resting right before him. Y/N wasn’t necessarily doing it to be nice, but the energy he was exuding could really dampen the growth rate of her plants, and Thumper had a soothing way about him that drew all that negativity out. It was one of those odd little familiar powers that went unexplained for the most part. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” 

“Dunno,” he shrugged his shoulders, but the tension in them begins to dissipate as Thumper snuggles beneath his chin, “Reckon I pissed off some demon or summat -- usually it isn’t this bad. Without your tea, I can at least get to bed for three hours before waking up and catch cat naps during the day, but nothing was working this weekend. I think I’ve slept a total of two hours?” 

“Christ,” she tuts her tongue, but her brain starts churning, “Do you think it has anything to do with that. . .with that thing, that’s around? That feeling?” 

Harry huffs a sigh, “Fuck, here you go again -- Babe, listen, I can barely keep a coherent thought, so why don’t I just give you some money and you make that tea for me, alright?” 

“That’s no way to ask,” Y/N chastises him, and though she is already beginning to gather the supplies she needs so she could go out and harvest her leaves, she taunts him, “You’ll have to say please, or I might just decide to wait on this batch.” 

“Please,” he wastes no time in saying, “Pretty please harvest the chamomile so that I can sleep and I promise I’ll sit and theorize with you over whatever the fuck thing you’re feeling.” 

Y/N could go through the trouble of doing a blood binding with him to ensure that he wasn’t lying to her, but she felt that was a little on the extreme side so she took his word for it. She could easily harvest her chamomile here at the shop -- she had two doors behind the counter, one that led to her garden, the field, and the forest outside while the other led to a backroom that was made into a little kitchen area. It was easier for her to do things here rather than at home and have to risk tainting them in transport; for the best results to any enchanted item, one has to seal it immediately and it should only be reopened prior to use. 

She wouldn’t allow Harry to hover over her while she worked, so she sat him behind the counter and told him to not speak to any customers if they come through (“Wasn’t planning to,”) while she went to work. Y/N gave Thumper a look when he had started to follow her, and with a small thump of his foot (his way of saying Fine!) he hops himself into Harry’s lap and settles there. The tension once again eases from Harry’s features, soothing the pinch in his brow and the way his lips had been pursed in a frown. 

It was silent as she set to work, and save for a few customers who filtered in and out (at least a dozen of them, only eight purchased something but her Mondays were always pretty slow so that was expected), there wasn’t much to disturb what appeared to be a dozing Harry. He looked much more peaceful than she’s ever seen him, and for a brief moment she contemplates sending Thumper back home with him, but she shakes her head physically as if to expel the thought from her brain. What was she going on about? She would give him his tea and send the heathen on his way. No matter how empathetic she felt for him (she had struggled with issues sleeping when she was a lot younger), there was no need to go out of her way. . .even if she could admit that the sight of him cuddling with a bunny was a little too sweet not to be documented somewhere. 

She’s finished drying the leaves and carefully stirring them in the fine powder that she still had leftover from her last batch (there were many flowers from her garden ground up and enchanted with an incantation, which sounds like a simple enough task but the entire process took a little over a week -- the magic had to be purified several times, and the potential adverse effects had to be mollified. . . if she didn’t, instead of pleasant dreams of floating in clouds, her customers would be in an unsolicited astral projection) in a little over an hour. Y/N takes care to bag them delicately, adding a little extra in the two bags she would be giving Harry so that he would bother her less over it. 

By the time she’s retreated from the back preparation room, she finds that Harry is awake now, eyeballing her Intimacy and Romance section. When he sees that she’s returned to the front, he holds up the small, cardboard parcel, “I didn’t know you doubled as a Pulse and Cocktails.” 

“That’s a natural aphrodisiac,” she tells him, walking over to her empty chamomile shelf before she begins to fill it,  “You might want to take some so your partners will actually desire you for once.” 

“Oh, Honey,” he shakes his head, a look on his face almost like he pities her, “Don’ know a thing about how people desire me. Barely have to take my cock out for them to be gagging for it -- kind of how you are, but won’t admit it to yourself.” 

Y/N kisses her teeth, “Alright lecher, come and get your chamomile then,” she plucks the two remaining bags from the box she brought them in and holds them out for him, “You should look into some spells to combat that though -- if a demon is purloining your sleep, then it’s probably still hanging around and like deluging your flat with negative energy.” 

“Dunno’ if you know this, but I work with demons often, I’m always surrounded by negative energy,” he plucks the chamomile from her grasp, before reaching in his pocket and producing a small wad of cash that he places in her palm-- Y/N opens her mouth to decline it (she felt that his money was earned in a dishonest way and would not accept it for her flowers, because it felt as if she were disrespecting them. . .she would much rather give it to him for free), but he cuts her off, “Oh, hush and take the money. This is from a care package my Nan sent me, so it wasn’t earned in any rotten way, you spoiled brat.” 

She sighs, clutching the money in her hands, “You still better keep your end of the deal,” Y/N tells him, “I want to talk about this. . .whatever that feeling is, around here lately. And I want you to be serious about it!” 

Harry was already retreating, waving his hand up at her, “Yeah, sure thing, I’ll have my secretary get in contact with you --” 

“Harry --” 

“M’only joking. I’ll come around Friday.” 

                                                                     .                       .                         .

Later that night, with Thumper snuggled in her lap snoozing, Y/N looks into purging a home of sleep stealing spirits. 

She’s only curious. 

                                                             .                         .                        . 

Sleep comes gradually, then all at once, like the shift between summer and fall. 

Wind whistles past window sills singing shallow songs of change, while red apples ripen on their branches in the orchard during harvest season. The air grows colder in the mornings and at night, the day is still steeped in the sun’s benevolent kisses of heat at first until even that begins to wane. An aesthetic of reds, oranges, forest greens and golden hues occupy the minds of many as the leaves start to stain with color. Everyone waits with bated breath for true autumn to come around the corner. 

And when it does, it’s with a cold slap of air against the face when they step outside. The air carries that distinct autumn smell, the world is chilly enough for thicker jackets and long socks, rain comes in sheets during the evenings, and the colorful leaves that had drooped from the trees adhere to the concrete, or in matted piles on the forest floor.  Suddenly, the warm drink in everyone’s hand is a little less for the excitement and impatience for fall to begin, and more so to warm their cold palms from the onslaught of biting wind. 

It isn’t autumn, and then it is -- just like sleep. Harry’s awake one minute, and then he’s passed right out. 

Well, with Y/N’s help, bless her. Sure, she had been rotten before, but she made him a new batch and sent him off with two hearty bags full of tea that would soothe his worries and put his arse to bed. Plus, he had cuddled with her sweet little bunny Thumper for a while and he had a feeling the little bugger was exuding some sort of her soft magic unto him in the form of calming waves. When the rabbit sat in his lap, all the tension eased from his muscles and he sank into an otherwise uncomfortable chair like it was the softest mattress he’d ever been privy to. So by the time he came home, started the kettle, drank a mug full, and hot tailed it to his bed, he was asleep before his head could even quite hit the pillow. 

It was so good. His dreams were pleasant, his sleep was heavy, and deep, and lasted around fifteen hours -- which in the grand scheme of things, made him feel a bit like a sloth, but he knew he needed it. He still couldn’t quite pinpoint what had happened that he just couldn’t sleep even a little bit, but he has no interest in investigating now that he had a full night’s (and partially day’s) rest. Plus, there was no time to do any exploring when he needed to make up for the work he’d missed in his time exhausted -- his powers are nowhere near as strong if he is tired, and it’s incredibly dangerous to be working with little sleep. He could mess up, and a mess-up could mean someone would likely end up possessed and -- albeit how interesting they are -- Harry’s intrigue with exorcisms ended after the seventh one he performed. 

After he woke up, showered off, and ate brekkie, he sat down with his kitten and they cleaned his crystals and a few amulets before he set on preparing some of his finer elixirs, that he always waited until he was down to the last drop to begin making more canisters of considering how extensive the process was. It would be easier if he had someone else to help out, but the only other witch within 160 kilometers of him, he wouldn’t label as the type all too willing to help him break into a blood bank. 

But he did have his kitten Oat. He was his little miracle -- Harry had been so sad when he learned that witches could have familiars, but the animal would come to him and he was supposed to just know. At that point, he’d been practicing for three years and the only feelings he could sense from any animal around him were fear and disdain, so he had thought that maybe he just wasn’t meant to have one. Which felt horrible. . .he loved animals. 

One day, when the chill in the air rosied his cheeks and the cardigan he sported did little to shield him from the cold, he was taking a walk in the forest nearby. He’d left the trail, but not because he was working. . .if he were honest, he thought that the garden that Y/N kept out there was quite magnificent. It flourished even in the winter, a meadow of flowers that’s petals never frost, and the ground never grew hard. There was an air around it that made him feel warm and pleasant, so he visited often without letting her know. Which was what he was doing, walking through the small path that she had created so that she could tend to them (he’d seen her water them once when he’d come unknowing that she was there to cater to them). 

And one moment he was looking at what he believed to be an oat grass, he heard a rustle from the bushes to his left that he looked toward (it was a bird flying away), and when his gaze returned to where it had once been, there a small kitten was laying. She was the kind of small that made his heart ache, with her eyes barely open as she yawned and stretched very wide -- she wasn’t there, and then she was. Harry always liked to say she was born from the soft soil of Y/N’s garden which was why her grey fur felt like clouds and she always smelled sweet as heliotrope. . .and, well, she smelled a lot like Y/N too. He may not be all too fond of the girl, but she did always smell nice. 

She hadn’t grown bigger than one of his boots, the tiny little thing, but not because she was malnourished in any way (Harry always made sure she was well-fed), he just thinks she’s finished growing. He couldn’t tell her breed, but if he had to guess she was some mix between a munchkin and a ragamuffin cat. Harry knows all familiars have their duties and special abilities, but he wasn’t quite sure what hers was -- he just knew that he loved her to bits and pieces, and couldn’t ask for a better little ball of fur to sit on his shoulder while he made coffee in the morning. 

What Harry did know, was that none of the demon’s he had ever conjured had ever bothered her, and she loved to be rubbed behind her ears. 

So Thursday night, when the town grew quiet and the air was still, Harry ventured out with his tote bag slung over his shoulder. It was easy to move about relatively unseen in a place like this, that wasn’t so big there were people constantly looming around the corners of every nook and cranny, but wasn’t so small that everybody knew everyone’s business. It was a pleasant in between, where he could snake through the mouth of the forest, walk a trail and end up on the other side of town without having been seen by more than a few critters. He typically made this journey relatively late, without a worry or stressor in sight -- it only took him about an hour and a half to get everything done. 

Today though -- today, he felt off. It hadn’t been immediately when he’d stepped outside, but after some time in his walk, goosebumps prickled his skin and the hair at the back of his neck stood on end. He couldn’t quite decipher what was making him feel like this when the wind hadn’t rustled the trees in a few minutes, but it put him on guard. He disliked the feeling and had only truly sensed it to this degree that night Y/N had originally questioned him about it. It was an unsavory sensation, and for it to even make him feel uneasy was saying something tremendous. 

He attempts to ignore it, even though it only grew stronger the closer he was to his destination. He weaves through the trees, stepping over the thick roots, crunching over fallen leaves, and appreciating the scent of autumn as he goes. It was a nice night, despite the chill that ran just beneath his skin. . .it was the kind of night that he might go out on his balcony and sip on his tea until he grew weary enough to step inside. Oat liked to sit outside with him, curled peacefully in his lap and resting without a care in the world (she made him feel not so lonely all the time, which he appreciated immensely). 

Harry was thinking about how that was precisely what he was going to do as soon as he returned home after he had emerged from the trees and walked through an expansive field, toward an old road that led him back into town and entered the blood bank (after melting the lock with one of his crystals). Though he sensed something strong when he was walking down the cold, dark hall. . .or someone that is, who --  before he could register their presence -- ran straight into him as they were peeling around the corner and nearly knocked him on his arse (but definitely knocked them on theirs). 

“Fuck sake!” He cried out, steadying himself, looking down at the assailant, “Watch where you’re going, mate, or you’ll -- oh, Y/N?” He pauses, confusion laces through his brain as he recognizes her, “What’re you doing here so late?” 

Y/N was on her bum, scowling at him as she gathered herself before flattening her palms to the cold, white tiled floor and pressing up to a stand, “I could ask you the same question.” 

“It would be a silly one if you did, ‘cos you and I both know what I’m doing for a living,” he watches as she swipes her bum of the dust adhering to her sweatpants -- he had never seen her so dressed down before, in a dark-colored hoodie that just about swallowed her whole. She appeared much less ferocious this way -- not that she appeared very ferocious before, but he is always intrigued to see typically put together people in their sleep clothes. . .he thinks it says a lot about a person. From Y/N’s choice of pajamas, he could tell that she probably kept her flat on the side of too cold because she liked to bundle up. . .she felt safe that way, he would guess, and he would bet 50 quid that there was bunny hair all over it because -- despite his grumpy tendencies -- Thumper loved a good cuddle.

“I felt it again,” she says after a moment, her voice only above a whisper, though there was no security here -- or anyone, for that matter since the place closes at 7 PM, but her eyes still shift around like she’s a high schooler ditching class and the headmaster's down the hall, “. . .that thing, y’know, while I was getting ready for bed, so I followed where it felt grossest and came to check it out to see if it led me anywhere.” 

Harry’s brows furrowed, “Well that was stupid,” he derides her, fixing the tote around his shoulder and shifting weight from one heel to the other, “What were you going to do if you found something, hm? Fight it off with your bunny and rose petals?”

Her scowl returns, “Piss off,” she utters before her gaze flickers to his tote and the reason he’s here becomes clearer to her than it had been before, “You shouldn’t be stealing blood. Isn’t that unethical?” 

“It’s either this or siphoning it from a live vein, Babe, and while I’m aces at plenty of things, I have not been properly trained to set up an IV. I only take the blood that’s about to expire anyway,” He nods down the hallway, toward the refrigeration where they kept all of the baggies, “You might as well continue investigating while we’re here because it’s coming from that way -- plus you can make yourself useful by keeping the door propped open for me.”

In all honesty, Harry expects more fight than he was given considering how often she seems to object to every move he makes, but she merely rolls her eyes and starts ahead of him. The feeling does grow stronger the further they descend into the hallway and he knows Y/N can feel it too, from the way she shuffles just a little closer to him, and he can hear her breathing hitch to a small halt as they stood before the door and it felt like it had all been focused just behind the door. As strong as the taste of frozen orange juice concentrate, it made his face pucker just slightly as he raised his fingers toward the keypad and began punching in the code. 

“You’re really gonna go in there?” Y/N queries gently, and Harry only nods his head in response, reaching for the door handle. An urgent, delicate touch of Y/N’s hand startles him, looping around his wrist and dragging his attention toward her, “Shouldn’t we have a game plan if something is behind the door?” She asks, her hold on him tightening just a little, and Harry notes how soft her palm feels against his skin, “Like, let’s say we open the door and a behemoth is standing there, what do we do?” 

“The only behemoth that could fit in this tiny room is the band from Poland, Babe, and I reckon they have better things to do on a Thursday night,” he retorts, clenching around the knob and tilting it down, “Now unless you want to hold hands in there. . .” 

She lets go before he can finish, and he doesn’t have to look back at her face to know she’s irate. A small smile quirks at his mouth as he pushes his shoulder against the heavy door to aid him opening it, bracing himself to see something potentially horrid. . .

And there’s nothing. 

Actually, as soon as they open the door, the dark, odious feeling that had been encompassing both of them disappears entirely. “Whoa,” Y/N pushes her hand against the door and keeps it open, taking one step inside of the room, “There’s a lot of blood in here.” His gaze flickers back at her, as she looks around, looking more intrigued than disgusted -- there was a lot of blood, 8 by 5-meter room just filled with it, so he could understand some of the awe. The more he returns, the less awe he feels, but he reckons that was to be expected. 

“There are about five other refrigerators in this building too,” he tells her as he lowers to his knees, cracking open his tote, “This one’s computers are easier to get into though, and doesn’t say the date and time the amount was changed so nobody knows anything is missing. Easy peasy.” 

Y/N nods, “Right. Stealing blood -- easy peasy,” she leans against the door, “What is it that you use it for?” 

“It really depends,” he murmurs as he pulls out a rack, counting out the baggies he needed, “Some demons like blood more than ash, so they come when called and are more willing to help you out when given a little gift. There are a few spells that call for it, and elixirs are twice as potent — sometimes I have to drink it, which is...unpleasant,” he hears her shiver, “—but it makes the outcome better. All in a day's work.”

“Oh wow,” Y/N hummed, “That’s...different. I think the weirdest thing I’ve had to drink for a spell was doe milk and I felt guilty the whole time. Like I was taking it from a fawn that needed it.”

Harry huffed out a laugh — Y/N was a soft little thing, comparing drinking blood to milk — sometimes he forgets how sheltered her world of magic is compared to his own.  It was easy to forget with all the spiteful words she could throw his way, but to see her out of her comfort zone. . .it’s refreshing. Not because she is less confident in her surroundings, but because she is more open to his own If someone would have told Harry they would be even remotely civil with one another in a room full of blood, he would have snorted before asking what they were snorting. 

“I oughta call you Bambi then.” 

He was on his last baggy of blood, checking the expiration date, and logging it into the computer when the dreadful feeling returned. Like a fly to rotting meat, it clings back to the room they were in tenfold. From behind him, a sharp clatter and Y/N’s squeal startles him to look back at her, “Harry!” She cried, pointing ahead of her, “The walls! L-look at the walls!”  

Harry follows her finger, watching as a thick, black substance oozes from the wall’s coving. When Y/N had noticed as much, she knocked down a stray IV pole that had been left in here, and it lay at her feet where the same black ooze had begun seeping up from the trim of the floors. In all his time doing what he does, Harry had never seen something so odd, nor had he ever felt something this grotesque overcome his being. It makes him act quickly, and while he doesn’t speak, he does fix his tote over his shoulder and practically jog the short distance to Y/N, knocking her out of the room, grabbing the door by the handle, and swinging it shut. He had hoped to seal it in there, whatever it was, but when they look down at the floor, the goo bleeds beneath the door and they both take a startled step back, “Oh fuck me,” Harry mutters to himself, shaking his head. 

“What the hell is this?” Y/N is panicked -- it’s very clear in her voice, and while Harry was a tad thankful not to be dealing with this alone, he can’t say that a soft which, who planted pretty flowers and made sleepy time tea was necessarily the backing he wanted in the event he had to exorcise a demon. He didn’t even have the proper tools for it. . .he didn’t know what he was exorcising, fuck sake --  “Harry, shouldn’t we --” 

“We need to leave,” he states, pivoting on his heel and hustling down the hall, Y/N was quick to scurry behind him, though she still murmurs some protest. 

“We shouldn’t just --” 

“Listen, unless you have any idea what that is and how to clean it, let alone banish it to hell, I saw we have a better chance through those doors than we do staying in here for even a second more,” he told her, holding out his hands to the crash bar, shoving the heavy door open, only looking back to make sure that Y/N had made it through, seeing that the black ooze had been following them before he promptly slammed the door shut. 

This was one of the back doors, so it spits them out to the graveled employee parking lot that dances along one of the many mouths of the forest that surrounded them. They’re both out of breath, adrenalin zipping through their veins in a tidal wave as their chests heave and they stare at the door. They wait for it to crawl beneath these doors. . .they wait for the building to either be overcome by sludge or combust from whatever sinister being had decided to preoccupy this space. 

But nothing happens. 

The wind picks up, the leaves rustle against the branches, and as if it were a gift from the Earth, the sordid feeling blew right away with it. 

“What the hell was that?” Y/N asks for the second time. 

Harry straightens out from where he’d been crouched, inhaling the cool air, appreciative to be in it. 

“Do you think for a second, with my reaction, that I have any fucking clue?” 

                                                        .                             .                              .

Y/N doesn’t have people at her flat often. 

Actually, apart from Niall and a few maintenance men, nobody had ever really come over. Not for any particular reason, really, and not because she didn’t want them to necessarily -- the opportunity just rarely arose, or more so, she didn’t often allow it to. If she were going to meet someone then she would meet them somewhere else, and they would part ways after they were finished (again, apart from Niall, who would simply follow her home, kick his trainers off, and head toward her couch which he had told her was simply the comfiest he’d ever been on). Her home was her humble abode. . .it was where she came to destress after a long day, and where Thumper sometimes waited for her debating whether or not he wanted to nibble her bathroom rug to shreds.

Not to mention she had plants growing here too, and flowers that she held dear to her, and while people are more reluctant to go touching what isn’t their business at a store, they are much less disinclined to give that same respect to her plants. Once Y/N had a maintenance man over to fix her faucet and she’d walked out from her room to see that he was caressing her snake plant’s leaves. She couldn’t blame him -- the plant had a very encompassing presence about it and had a way of drawing people in if they weren’t careful. . .hypnotized by the way it made them feel. All of Y/N’s soil and seeds are charmed with special incantations and concoctions that took her years to perfect, she would be disappointed if they weren’t causing people to leave all semblance of professionalism to even for a moment feel as if they were in a room with such clear air, their lungs felt renewed and they deemed it necessary to get closer. 

But then she had to apologize to her snake plant for nearly two days after! It had been so upset with her, she could feel it, so she started being even more careful about who she let in.  If she was going to go out of her way to have someone over, then there was a good reason for it. . .or it was Niall. 

And a demonic, gooey substance sweating from the walls of a blood bank, was well enough a good reason to have Harry over. 

It took some coaxing on her part -- he was convinced that they needed to just go back to their respective flats and go to bed, but Y/N was adamant in vetoing the idea. “We’re supposed to talk tomorrow anyway, so we might as well just go ahead and do it tonight -- and you are not leaving me alone after whatever the fuck that was!” 

After a good ten minutes, he finally relented as long as they could stop by his flat so he could get his kitten. Y/N hadn’t known that he had a kitten and thought maybe he would bring out some ragged-looking thing, but she was surprised to see through her windshield window that Harry was approaching her car with a small grey kitten. Her face contorts in the way everyone’s face might when they see something small and cute, “Look at her,” she coos once Harry opens his door, “What’s her name?” 

“This is Oat,” he answered, holding her out for Y/N to pet, “Be careful, she’s vicious.” 

Y/N pet at her head and Oat’s eyes shut as she nuzzled into her palm, “Oh yeah, what a panther.”

 Apart from the nerves that had already materialized from what they had seen in the blood bank, she was a little worried about inviting him into her home. When she visualized her safe space, Harry was not typically who she saw sitting on her couch when she came in from the kitchen, holding mugs of warm tea. Yet there he was, introducing Thumper and Oat to one another (who merely sniffed each other, then immediately cozied against her olive throw blanket on the end of the couch), and Y/N is handing him his steamy mug. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, immediately nursing the mug between his palms and lifting it up to his mouth for a small sip -- the steam disperses around his face in plumes, “And it wouldn’t make sense for. . .for whatever that is to just be a demon.” 

“What?” She inquires, taking her seat beside him on the couch, her body twisted so she was facing him entirely. Y/N had adjusted the temperature to something that would be a bit more suited toward having a guest -- when she’s alone, she keeps it ungodly cold so she has an excuse to bundle up in her clothes and blankets. There’s nothing like feeling safe in a cocoon of various fabrics with Buffy the Vampire Slayer on the telly. 

Harry strategically places the mug between his knitted socked feet, steadying it there as he begins to play with the thick, brassy tiger ring on his index finger, “Demons are strong, sure, but if they’re gonna be that strong there’s typically two reasons for it: they have already inhabited that area, or someone is controlling them behind the scenes. I would be more inclined to believe the prior, but I’ve been going to this blood blank for about a year now and unless there were some pentagrams I’ve missed or a gruesome ordeal that never made the papers in the past two weeks -- then there’s no reason for that to have happened at the hands of a spirit. Even a blood demon isn’t strong enough to make what happened in there happen, and they literally feed off the substance in the room.” 

“So you think someone summoned it or something? I thought you were the only one around here that did that?” Y/N probes, trying to look in his eyes but she keeps getting distracted by his rings -- how many did he have? She thinks he nearly has one on each finger, and he’s plucking them off and placing them on different knuckles as he speaks. Y/N wonders if it’s something he does in response to a stressor, like how she picks at her nails. 

“I’m the only witch that summons things around here, but not even I could conjure something that feels that vile.” He explained, fitting the last ring against his knuckle before he pops the bones in his fingers, and Y/N watches as the skin stretches and moves around the muscles in his hands,  “I think someone is trying to manifest something without the proper safeguards in place. . .the lack of protection charms, crystals, and spells can invite much more heinous creatures to the living world. They feed off shite like that -- naivety. . .thinking that any person could decide they’ll have a demon carry out a job for them. It’s easier for them to take advantage of them that way.” Harry exhales, running the pad of his thumb around the rim of the mug— she’s given him the one that has intricate, realistic drawings of beluga whales on it, not for any other reason apart from that one was her favorite and she liked to see it in use, “And with a full moon coming up? Recipe for disaster.”

“Oh shit,” Y/N holds her tea closer to her being, “That’s why the feeling is so profuse and disagreeable in the air then, ‘cos they aren’t containing it right? When I was looking into a little bit of what you do, I read that there are containment spells so the demon or spirit doesn’t have free range to do as it pleases, but the spell is dependent on the demon in question and the severity of its power.” 

Harry looked pleasantly surprised, “Yeah, that’s right -- what’re ya looking up what I’m doing for?” He settles into her couch, “Have you got a crush on me or summat?” 

If Y/N rolled her eyes any further back, she thinks they would have done a 360 in her eye sockets, “I fell down a rabbit hole the other night when I was trying to figure out why you couldn’t sleep,” an impish grin slides onto his mouth, “And not because I’m “in love with you” -- I just thought it would be interesting to know if your insomnia was the reason of a demon because that would mean one of my items combats against that and wins. My. . .most of my magic is based on prevention when it comes to dark things like that, not really to fight what’s already there.” 

“So your flowers don’t like -- I dunno, Little Shop of Horrors it?” He teases, motioning to her Hoya plant that had just begun to bloom for her, “I reckon when I think of plant magic, I think of you snapping your fingers and thorned ivy whipping around to slow assailants.” 

“No, none of that,” she laughs lightly, shaking her head, “They’re much too nice and gentle. . .they only want to help. And I’m rarely in a situation where I would need thorned ivy whipping around.” Y/N locks eyes with Oat for a moment, whose eyes close nice and slow before she reopens them and Y/N thinks she might just melt, “What do we do then? How do we stop it?” 

He slides a ring with teddy bears from his pinky and spins it between his forefinger and thumb, “There’s nothing to do -- if we don’t know who the problem is, then we can’t fix anything.” Harry shrugs his shoulders, and the action makes his already loose cardigan slide down his arms, revealing more of the cream-colored shirt he wore with Smokey the Bear on the front reading Only YOU! can prevent forest fires, “All we can do is wait for the next fucked feeling and hopefully run into the person causing -- oh,” Harry pauses, motioning toward her, “You’ve got a new friend.” 

Y/N’s confused, brows knitted until she feels a paw press against her shoulder and the telltale purr of a happy kitty. When she turns her head, she finds that Oat has snuck her way up to her, and is now attempting to perch on Y/N’s shoulder. She presses closer to the back of the couch so that she had a better footing, and in return Oat bumps at her cheek with the top of her head, “You’re so cute, stop it,” she murmurs, and when she takes a breath through her nose, she smiles, “She smells like my heliotrope flowers too! How are you the familiar of such a grumpy, cruel lug, huh?” 

“Oi,” Harry mutters, “I resent that. I’m not grumpy or cruel, you’re just rotten.” 

A retort plays at Y/N’s mouth but her phone screen lights up from where it’s sat on the coffee table and strays her attention. She’s confused -- the only person who would be messaging her this late was Niall but she’s almost a hundred percent certain that he was supposed to be out at the bar tonight. It is him though. 

Fuck me, have ya looked at the news? Is this that thing we were talkin bout? 

Harry is a nosy bugger, and after reading the message with her he reaches for her remote, “You told him about it?” He turns on her telly, quick to open her TV guide, “So he knows about you?” 

“Yeah, he knows -- turn to 3,” she tells him, and soon enough the local news is playing out, big bold letters on the blue band stretched across the bottom of the screen. 

MAN TO BE CHARGED WITH ATTEMPTED MURDER ON GIRLFRIEND 

He turned the volume up, so they could hear the news reporter who was on site. There was yellow caution tape stripped around a house, police lights, cops walking around in the back, and frightened neighbors who had left the comfort of their homes to investigate what was happening. The woman on screen had long blonde hair that whipped when the wind blew and muffled her microphone feed, her face set stony as she recounted the events as the police had told her, “. . .has no recollection of the event, and is claiming the “walls” were dripping in blood and demanding that he do it. Jacobs is being taken in for further questioning and pending a psychiatric evaluation -- his girlfriend Amanda Wilson is being rushed to hospital that’s all anyone knows right now. Back to you Tom...” 

“Oh, fuck sake,” Harry groaned, shaking his head, “Now this is a problem, problem innit?” 

“Was it not before?” Y/N takes the remote from him, turning the volume down, “Do you -- does that sound like anything you’ve dealt with? That would try hurting someone like that?” 

He presses his knuckles to his eyes, sighing, “Not that I remember -- I’ll have to do some digging. . .this is bollocks, you know how bad this is for business? Nobody wants to mess with dark magic when shit like this is going on.”

“Aish, don’t think so selfishly. People are in danger,” she tsks at him, “And we’ll need to -- what are you doing?” She asks as he removes his feet from where they had been on the couch, reaching down for his loafers like he was about to put them on. 

“S’getting late,” he responded, “I was g’na head home --” 

“No you’re not,” she told him, her face dropping in borderline disgust as he seemed genuinely confused with her, his face twisting, “We experience something like that, then see the news, and you not only want to separate, but you want to walk all the way home, alone, in the dark? No way, that’s too stupid, you’re staying here.” 

Harry’s brows dipped in, irritated, however, he did stop reaching for his loafers,  “But --” 

“Listen, we may not be fond of each other but I’m not letting you put yourself in danger,” she tells him, before adding quickly, “And you are fucking not going to leave me alone after that! Are you mad?” 

“I’m sorry, I thought I’d be doing you a favor without bothering ya with my presence. Never thought Miss. Good Witch of the North would want me breathing her air for too long.” He ripostes and it reinvigorates any distaste for Harry that had been easing throughout the night the more they spoke. He always did that -- always made her feel like she was some stuck up prick who never gave him a chance, but she would have if he hadn’t started out being such an arse to her. Sure, the circumstances they had met under weren’t fantastic. . .she snapped at him for taking her flowers without asking, but he could have just apologized -- could have said sorry, and they could have started over but he was immediately put off by her she presumes, because ever since he’d been nothing but cruel to her. His knocking her out of the room in the blood bank was probably the first kind thing he’d ever done for her, and she isn’t a hundred percent certain that she wasn’t just in his way while he was trying to get out. 

So she glowers at him as she pushes from her couch, “Sod off. I’ll get you some blankets.”

He almost immediately replaces the spot that her body had been with his legs, stretching out as far as he could and his feet flop on the arm of the sofa, “Reckon you should make me some of that tea though, so I can sleep.” He called after her. Thumper hops off and follows after her, while Oat finds her spot at Harry’s side and cuddles into where his cardigan’s extra fabric bundles. Y/N goes to the closet in the hall that leads to her bedroom, pries it open, and reaches to the top shelf where she keeps her extra blankets and pillows. Despite how irritated he makes her, she grabs him one of her heavier quilts, because even with her heat kicked up higher than normal her flat has very poor insulation, and the night’s into early mornings get pretty cold. She’s about to grumble at him that he better thank her for this and the bloody tea, but when she returns to the living room. . .he’s asleep. 

Harry just fell right to sleep. 

She’s confused -- understandably, she thinks, because she remembers how much of a fit he’d thrown about her tea and how she was closed on weekends so he couldn’t have any of it. Had whined how he wasn’t able to sleep without the tea, and she had only given him peppermint tea tonight, so there was no reason that should have put him to bed. 

Yet there he was, fast asleep with his arms crossed over his chest. 

 Tutting her tongue quietly, she unrolls the blanket she had chosen for him and strategically places it over his legs. She is careful to move Oat so that she doesn’t suffocate under the covers as she pulls them over, up to Harry’s chest before replacing her in the spot she had snuggled prior. She pauses for a moment before she leaves them, taking in a completely relaxed Harry -- not that he doesn’t seem relaxed all the time, but he’s just. . .calm. His muscles have melted against her couch cushions, his brow has soothed and his amaranth pink lips are soft and parted. Gentle, easy breaths slip through his mouth. . .Y/N thinks that she likes him like this. Not spiteful, or crass -- this Harry doesn’t seem to hate her. This Harry is warm and comfortable enough to just fall asleep on her couch. 

Thumper thumps his foot against the floor, his not-so-silent request that they go to bed and Y/N snaps out of whatever hypnotic state she’d been in watching him rest. She feels creepy but shakes it off, reaching down to pick up Thumper by his belly and cradling him to her chest as she leaves the living room, keeping her lamp on for him in case he wakes up to have a wee or anything. 

It’s when she goes to the kitchen to grab him a bottle of water to leave at the coffee table for him, that she can feel Thumper judging her. This is only confirmed by the way he is looking up at her when she looks down at him, his small, pink nose twitching, and she can just sense him repeating Harry’s tease of have you got a crush on me or summat? -- it’s not like he hasn’t questioned her before. She reckons if Thumper could actually speak and not just implant little thoughts of his in her head through whatever little bond they have, he would be very free with his accusations about who she might have feelings for. 

Y/N rolls her eyes. 

“No, I don’t,” she disagrees with him quietly, “What do you know about crushes, hm? You’re just a bunny.” 

                                                         .                               .                              .

It had been a while since Harry had worked. 

Though he was always hesitant to call it work, all things considered. Y/N had once described to him that what he did was lurk around seedy clubs and wait to be recognized by a sorry sap that wanted something they didn’t want to put much effort towards, and Harry can’t necessarily say she’s wrong.  He preyed on the lazy; men and women who couldn’t be arsed to obtain a goal without the help of a little magic no matter how negative, and Harry couldn’t really fault them for it. One, because sometimes goals are unattainable with literally anything other than a demon's help, and two because he gets a hefty wad of cash in his pocket for his trouble. How hypocritical could he be to deprecate their usage of dark magic when he is doing the same thing. . .when he relies on that more than anything, even the silly little romance novels he writes so that nobody questions where his money’s coming from. 

It was a Friday night, and since he was no longer tied to the commitment of meeting Y/N to discuss the horrible, no good, terrible thing that was slithering its way through town and apparently spurring bouts of attempted murder -- he was able to visit a club. Though Y/N had made him lock pinkies with her that morning, telling him to keep his eye out for anything suspicious that may or may not have led to the events from the night prior. 

Promise me that you’ll keep informed on what’s going on there, okay? And promise me that you’ll tell me about it. 

The club he’d visited was one of the more popular of the four he frequented, and within the walls, amongst the gyrating bodies in scant clothing and sweat-drenched skin, were many of his regular clients. One of which had been blowing up his phone for the past week telling him how he desperately needed help, and he needed it ASAP. Harry finally replied to his message with a simple time that he would meet him, and that they would discuss the cost once he’s explained what is being asked of him. This guy, in particular, wanted many frivolous things, and typically his requests revolved around wealth, though Harry thought he had more than enough. And while Harry could do a few simple spells that would bring the money gradually and don’t come with the dangers that a demon will, he refuses. Harry has always told each of his clients that a spell and a demon could do the same thing, but demons brought faster results, albeit potentially precarious consequences.

And when it comes to summoning, things can get a bit tricky. If the person who is summoning is the person who will benefit from the demon’s will directly, then it may come with a price, and that price may or may not be hidden between the lines. Especially when it is someone who has no clue about the actual process, offerings that could be made without including their soul for the taking, and spells that could be done that would protect them. After doing this for so long, Harry had developed and harnessed enough power that it was rare a spell every backfired or a demon ever bested him, but if Bradley Evans tried this himself, he’d be good as dead. 

This is why, no matter how this man grates every open end of his nerves with a dull blade, he continues to help him. Again, Harry gets paid an obscene amount of money for what he does, so he sucks it right up -- and it’s not as if this money is just for him. He has people to take care of, his own personal gripes with the smarmy, rich, meat-headed pricks that want him to summon Clauneck for a trip to the Bahamas matter very little in the grand scheme of things. 

He’s leaning against the far back corner, at a table that he’d claimed for the night and a cherry mango cocktail that wets his lips and stains them red. He really isn’t scouting for suspicious behavior like he had promised to, only because his mind had floated elsewhere entirely. Like how, after so long of only ever being able to rest with help of Y/N’s chamomile, he was able to fall asleep without the help of anything. He had asked her about the tea that she and he drank prior to him passing out unprompted on her couch, but she told him it was just a store-bought strawberry tea that was a guilty pleasure. 

It perplexed him greatly. He only remembers her demanding him to stay the night because she didn’t want to be alone (and if he’s honest, neither had he after the night they had), he remembers her standing and him stretching out on her couch, and he remembers asking her for the tea that would help him sleep. 

And then he remembers waking, feeling refreshed, and renewed. Confused, but reinvigorated, he had a wee before poking around in her kitchen for something to satiate his grumbly stomach. Y/N was still asleep -- he’d peeked his head into her cracked open door only to find her dreaming peacefully, relaxed, and content. As creepy as it felt to stare at her as she slept, he did watch for a moment. It was different to see her without the accompanied scowl he usually coaxed upon her face -- the blissful gleam that exudes from her now is the same that he sees when she’s tending to one of her gardens. 

He brewed two chai lattes in her Keurig with Oat on his shoulder like a bird and she woke as he was taking the second mug, setting it on her kitchen counter, “G’morning,” she yawned, Thumper hopping behind her, looking just as sleepy, “Did you sleep through the night? I made you a cuppa and kept it in the microwave in case you woke up.” 

His heart had lurched. . .a genuine clench that Harry had not felt in a while.

“Oh,” he blinked at her owlishly, “I slept just fine, but thank you.” 

“Mm, good,” she was so sleepy still, Harry remembers wondering if she was even fully awake speaking to him, “I  have sliced fruit in the fridge if you want, for brekkie.” 

It was a domesticated scenario that Harry had not been privy to.  

Had it been her flat? Maybe the plants that she had strewn about the room were all enchanted, singing sweet songs of sleep that lulled him to sleep without him knowing. All he could recall was feeling so unbelievably comforted and no matter how cold it was in that damn flat, he felt so warm. . .so warm, and it smelled so good, and Oat was snoozing happily at his side. Plus she had wrapped him in this quilt that was heavy and smelled nice -- he thinks, in that moment, he finally understood why babies liked feeling contained in a swaddle blanket. Regardless of what happened at the blood bank, and what they found out on the news, Harry felt safe in her flat. And he probably wouldn’t have left either, if he didn’t have to work. 

He’s so caught in his reverie, that Bradley’s arrival truly startled him. A clearing of his throat catches his attention, dragging his unfocused gaze from the crowd of dancers to Bradly, dressed in a Lacoste polo that thought was ugly but he would never say it aloud, “Oh,” he straightened up, bringing the rim of his glass to his mouth and taking a small sip of it, “Right then, what can I do for you? Another trip to Barbados?” 

Bradley shakes his head a little frantically, and it's only then that Harry takes in the actual appearance of him, that surpasses the Lacoste and zeros in on the panic that decorates his face, “I need like -- like a demon protector or some kinda spell or -- I don’t fucking know, or something.” 

“Oh --” his brows dip, “What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?” 

He starts to nod, then switches it to a shake of his head, and that morphs into a shrug of his shoulders, “I don’t know man, I just don’t feel -- I don’t feel safe. I wondered if one of those demons from before were like. . .after my soul or summat.” 

“Not possible,” Harry dismisses the idea, setting his glass down on the high round table, “When I work with them we make a spiritual, contractual agreement that they are bound to. If your soul was not on the table, then it will never be on the table -- it must be something else,” he thinks for a moment before a slither of realization stokes the fire in his brain, that sets the coals aflame and heats the cogs to a churn, “What -- explain to me what you’re feeling?” 

“Like something is watching me,” he blinked, crossing his arms on top of the table and leaning most of his weight onto it, the scent of liquor wafts over Harry’s face when Bradly breathes, “It’s heavy and. . .it’s like swimming in ink. It’s horrible and frightening, and I’ve never -- I’ve never been one to rely on vibes, but mate, they were bad. . .they were like -- vile. Vile vibes, man.” 

Harry thinks, while his description is repugnant, he knows exactly what he’s talking about, but there wasn’t much he could do. Harry can make protection spells that are generalized but he doesn’t believe that any of them are strong enough to fend off whatever this thing is. In cases like this one, sometimes dark magic is not good to fight dark magic, it can only make it grow and fester like a nasty, infected wound. He really did not want to try that out on Bradley. . .he may not be fond of the guy, but he didn’t wish anything ill on him. 

“You wouldn’t come to me for a protection spell, for something like that,” Harry begins, “You would need --” You would need Y/N -- is what is about to leave his lips, but it drops away. As much as it’s true -- as much as Harry knows that the reason he felt the safest he’s ever had in Y/N’s presence was whatever protection spells she had put in place and strengthened -- he couldn’t. The thought of sending someone like Bradley to someone like Y/N, makes him feel sick. “Give me one second, yeah? Stay here.” 

Y/N gave him her number that morning, telling him that it was silly for them to be unable to contact one another. Harry saved it into his phone and sent her a picture of Oat so that she would have his, but left it at that -- he had assumed, until this moment, that he would never have a reason to have her number. If he ever wanted anything from her he would just show up at her store. 

But here he was, scrolling through his contact list to find her, pressing her number and holding his phone up to his ear. It only rings twice before she’s answered it, “Hello? Is everything okay Harry, did you get a lead?” 

Harry laughs in disbelief, “What’re you, a detective?” He cleared his throat so he could speak over the music clearly, “I need you for something, and I’ll give you half. And before you get all high and mighty, it isn’t for anything bad -- one of my regulars is experiencing the same fucked thing we have only it’s more vile vibes opposed to blood seeping from the walls. Need a protection spell -- whatever you use for your flat and store.” 

She’s quiet for a moment, long enough that Harry questions if his service dropped, but her voice reappears.

 “Where are you?” 

Fifteen minutes later, Harry is flagging Y/N down to his spot in the club where he stood next to Bradley whose friends kept coming around wondering if Harry was his pull for the night. Her jumper with a printed bunny right in the center made him chuckle to himself -- it was more than clear that she had not planned on coming out tonight, and if not for Harry, he thinks she would have spent three more hours at her store tending to the garden there if not for him. When she sees him, noticeable relief makes her shoulders slump, and as she gets closer, she reaches into her pocket, “Thank god,” she called over the music, “I’ve been in here for three minutes and if I got knocked into one more time I was going to lose it.” 

She produces two things -- one is a tiny vial, with an unidentified green liquid, and the other is a small baggie of her tea. Harry takes both from her hand, “Thank you,” he murmurs, before dipping down closer to her ear, “Go over to that empty table near the bar, I don’t want this guy seeing you clear enough that he could ask you for anything ever again.” 

Though she was confused, she listened to him, slinking her way over to the table while Harry turned to Bradley who had been looking at his phone, before both were placed in front of them, “Thank you,” he tells him, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. How much?” 

“850,” Harry says without batting an eyelash. Typically his business runs closer to the thousands but he cuts the guy a break since he’s scared.

“Each or what?” Bradley asks as he fishes his wallet from his pocket, flipping the leather open and beginning to thumb through his bills. 

“No, just 850,” he takes the bills from him, folding it between his fingers, “I shipped your crystals last week, did they come?” 

Bradley nods, a big grin on his face, “Oh, fuck yeah dude, I almost forgot! I already transferred you the money for them right?” 

Harry thinks it’s a shame that he doesn’t keep track -- he could really scam him if he wanted to, with these black crystals bathed in the water of Asmodeus (they increases stamina and aids them in not being shit in bed; it was a fucking full-day event to get Asmodeus to recognize the clear stream water, in an incubator that he checks every 15 minutes or so to see if the water has been touched red)  “Yeah, you sent double the amount ‘cos your buddy wanted some too, right?” 

“He loved them, mate,  he’s way less narky too now that he’s getting his dick wet.” 

Harry holds back a grimace, “Alright then, stay safe. You know how to contact me if you need anything.” 

Bradley bids his goodbye and Harry seeks out Y/N, who is picking idly at her fingernails and bobbing her head slightly to the music. When he gets close enough to her, he starts on his spiel as he waves the money toward her,

“Listen, Babe, you used your plants to help him, honestly you deserve way more than this -- a fucking Nobel Prize probably,” he holds it out to her, “Here.” 

She shakes her head, but not in the way she would if she were refusing it because she was disgusted by him -- no, instead she closes his hand around it again and presses it closer to his body, “No, no, you keep it, he’s your guy or whatever.” 

Harry tilts his head, brows knitted, “But they’re your plants.” 

“Yeah, but I would just feel guilty taking it from you so --” 

He sighs, counting out 450 of it, taking her hand, opening her fingers, and sliding the bills into her palm, “Even split then. If you’re going to utilize something precious to you to help someone like that fucker, you deserve a little compensation for it. “ 

Y/N must realize that he wasn’t going to let it go, because she finally folds it in her hands, slipping it into her pocket, “What’s with that guy then? Why do you not like him?” 

Harry can see it clearly; the image of his childhood self, his family struggling to make ends meet but going to primary school with the wealthier kids. The ones who laughed at his faded shirts, and holed winter coats -- who would ask him to their birthday parties and talk shit about the gift he’d scraped up coins for doing miscellaneous work around the neighborhood. He thinks about how he knew they would go home to kitchens full of food, and bountiful dinners that they would never appreciate, while Harry never took seconds because no matter how hungry he was, he made sure their bellies were as full as they could be. And Harry remembers how the headmaster did nothing to quell his worries because those kid’s parents could buy out the school if they wanted to. 

He sees it all, and he hears it all, and for a moment -- selfishly -- it makes Harry wish he had never given Bradley the protection spell at all. 

But he only shakes his head, “He’s just a prick,” he answers simply, before nodding his head toward the door, “Reckon we should get out of here, it smells like piss.” 

It’s always a little easier to leave the club than it is to enter it, so they’re out in the cool air soon enough. A small line had formed outside since Harry had been in there last, and as they step out, a group of three is let in through the rope chain that the bouncer is policing. This part of town is always bustling late into the night, so neither feel the cold brush of fear they have been when they’re out in the dark -- or at least the relaxed way Y/N is looking around tells him that she’s pretty content. 

“Do you want to get something to eat?” She asks him, pointing at the 24-hour diner right across the street, that had been strategically placed there because people who are drunk and high who just sweat out half their body weight love greasy food, “I skipped dinner today.” 

“What a coincidence -- so did I.” 

They got a booth in the far back corner, where the white and maroon tilted floor glistened wet from a recent scrub from the mop, and the air smells of lemon pine-sol. This along with the fact that the black leather seats were dusted of the crumbs that usually mottles them, Harry would assume that they had come just in time for their 12 AM clean up, where the first batch of besotted clubbers had left a mess and they were waiting for the second wave to come through. He didn’t miss the eye that the waitress had given them, looking them up and down like she was trying to decipher what state they were both in, but when neither of them wobbles in their stance, or slur through their words asking for a table, she relaxes and asks them where they’d like to sit. 

After they get settled and order their food (Harry convinces her to get one of their malted milkshakes with him -- his favorite was strawberry and after she confessed that she never had their strawberry malt, he was insistent on her trying it), Harry’s curiosity is suddenly piqued as he thinks of something he hadn’t thought of before, “How did you make it over to the club so fast, hm? Do you just have jars of this stuff made laying around?” 

Y/N sticks her clear straw in the icy glass of water she’d been poured, stirring it like there was anything to mix, and the ice cubes clink together soundly, “No, no, I actually don’t make protection spells unless I’m asked directly -- or usually that’s the case, but I was already in the middle of making some for you and me, so I had a little leftover.” 

“For me too?” Harry inquires, genuinely surprised by the concept that she would make him something to keep him safe. She nods though, like it was silly that he thought she wouldn’t have, only this time she reaches into her purse and retrieves two much larger vials with little cork tops, and one bigger bag of the dried leaves, accompanied by a smaller one tied with red ribbon. 

“I was doing some research while I was at work --” 

“You do a lot of research, don’t you?” He cuts her off and she nods. 

“Mhm -- and there’s this like. . .there’s this elder witch who lives an hour or so drive away from us who I think might be immortal, but that’s beside the point. She has this blog that I was scrolling through and she linked her email, so I messaged her and she sent me her number and told me to call her immediately.” She slides one of the vials over to him, along with the tree leaves, “When I did, she told us that we were in a little more danger than everyone else ‘cos like -- whatever this thing is could start trying to feed off of us, especially you. Said that we needed a potent protection spell, and I told her about mine. You feel safe in my store and in my flat right? Like -- like whatever that thing is couldn’t get to us?” He nodded, eyes fixed on hers, “So this is a version of that suitable for our bodies. The tea leaves are for your flat, and then this little bag here --” she points at the one tied closed with the small strip of red ribbon, “-- this is a tea version of it safe for Oat to drink.” 

Not only had she made him some, but she also made Oat some too? As much as he disliked her before, he can’t help how this warms his heart, zipping through his body and makes him feel just as safe as he did when he was wrapped in her quilt snug on her couch. Harry wonders if this is what she’s like all the time with her friends. . .he wonders if this side of her, that researches and makes protection goodies, brews him a cuppa just in case he woke up in the middle of the night and comes out in the depth of night to the seedy clubs she despises just because he called and asked -- if that’s what they get to see. If that’s what he would have seen had their meeting been any different. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, taking the vial and the bags, looking at them against his palm, “A lot. You didn’t have to do this for me.” 

“I did though,” she takes a drink of the water through her straw, “I may not agree with what you do but we’re the only two witches here and there is power in unity, even if our versions of magic are different. We have to be there for each other -- Thumper agrees, and that’s a lot coming from him because he doesn’t like much of anybody. . .he barely likes me,” she holds her hand up, the index finger of her other going from finger to finger as she lists off the ingredients, “So we’ve got fern, anise, leaves from the ash tree in the forest, fennel -- the nice old woman told me to hold off on the mugwort unless we’re planning on astral projecting or doing anything with divination, but if we felt that it was necessary we could wear a wreath of it around her necks. That’s an old wives tale though, I’m pretty sure.” She wiggles her fingers, “All that and a little bit of moon water, and we have ourselves a little protection spell! I dipped my finger in for a taste test and I’ll be honest, it’s awful and plant-y but I reckon we can toss them back like a shot and chase it with a sweet drink like juice or something.” 

It hits Harry that he gave Y/N very little credit for what she did, but now as he’s looking at something that she’d made specifically with him in mind, that wasn’t just a glorified sleepy time tea, it puts some things in perspective for him. Sure, she’s been a dick to him in the past, but he was a dick too, about her magic. While he isn’t going to start kissing the ground she walks on, he decides then that he’ll be more mindful of her craft. Plus, from the amount of time that they’ve had to spend together in the past two days, she’s tolerable when she isn’t on her high horse about him summoning spirits and ruining the town. She’s even helpful. 

“Thank you,” he repeats, “I really mean it, I appreciate this a lot.” 

Y/N smiles at him and it’s a smile that he’s never been gifted before. A smile that makes him smile back, as she places her elbow on the table and holds out her pinky toward him -- she’s big on pinky swears, he’s finding. 

“We’re looking out for each other, okay? I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine. . .I swear it.” 

Harry locks his pinky with hers without a second thought. 

[mirekat]

From the Trans Archive: Just Some Guy in 1950s England

In the spirit of creating some cheerful distraction for @little-brisk​, I thought I’d share my favorite bit from the chapter I’ve been writing this week: a glimpse into the refreshingly un-tragic life of trans tabloid personality Kim Harford.

         Sweater vest and two tone tie: a timeless transmasc look

Now I say tabloid personality, but what I love about Kim is that he’s basically just some guy. He wasn’t ‘the first trans’ anything. He wasn’t a celebrity. He didn’t do any noteworthy crimes. He put in his shifts at the aircraft plant and hung out at the pub and picked away at his Great British Novel and would probably have lived and died in total anonymity had he not, in December 1953, tried to emigrate to Australia with the 'friend’ to whom he was still legally married.

Here’s the thing: in 1950s England it was really really difficult to change the sex on your birth certificate. But Kim had managed to get himself reregistered as a man with the Ministry of National Insurance, which meant that he would have been able to work and draw benefits and access healthcare without anyone knowing his trans history. And because this was the legal ID that mattered most in his day-to-day life (and because he was still living with and at least besties with his husband Paddy) neither he nor Paddy apparently bothered to check to see if their marriage was valid until somebody at Australia House took a look at their visas and was like what the fuck, it is 1953, gay marriage is not a thing.  

Paddy: ‘We shall be friends, perhaps deeper than brothers, all our lives’

Anyway, someone at the Sunday Pictorial got a tip about the two guys’ visa issues and bought an exclusive off them, which promptly turned into interviews at a dozen-odd local Australian papers. And in some ways the coverage is exactly as gross as you’d expect for 1950s.

But reading this stuff ‘against the grain’, as we say in the trade, gives us a snapshot of a trans life that’s almost moving in its banality. His husband misgenders him when referring to him in the past, sure, but uses he/him in the present and seems pretty staunch in his support. The news stories themselves are sensationalist and sexist but are also mostly free of moral condemnation and focused on cosy domestic detail. Like here’s a fairly representative lede:

[Kim] got up from an armchair, knocked out a pipe, threw a jacket over well-muscled shoulders, and said, “Well, time for a pint, Paddy! Gosh, I’m thirsty.” They grinned with warm companionship and set off down the road--sharing what is perhaps the greatest personal dilemma in Britain to-day.’                                                                                    --Sunday Mail (Brisbane), 20 December 1953

It’s kind of refreshing, even as someone who’s been elbow-deep in these docs for three years, to hear about a trans person 70 years ago cracking open a cold one with the boys. This is a person. He banters with the lads and wears silly sweater vests and shows off his new T muscles for the camera. He is a human person. 

   Whomst among us who has been on T has not taken this picture?

What’s more--and this was the most exciting find in my camera roll this week!!! breaking news!!!--I turned up his actual reregistration documents and he seems to have had decent community support, too. His GP and the welfare officer at his work sent letters to the Ministry of National Insurance testifying to his ‘male outlook’, and the Ministry lawyers, after a bit of back-and forth, responded with a resounding ‘Whatever, dude, just pay your taxes.’  

                           ‘Whatever, dude, just pay your taxes’

Anyway. Look, there’s obviously a lot to say here about what kind of trans person was most likely to enjoy this kind of community support. This is a white man. He has access to HRT and is no longer, apparently, read as trans. He doesn’t have a disability that we know about. He’s working-class but has a steady semi-skilled job; he’s married to a man and seems probably bi but presents himself as straight for the papers. I read a hell of a lot of stories about English trans people in the 1950s and a hell of a lot of those stories, especially when they’re about anyone who isn’t a white man, don’t have happy endings.

And technically we don’t know how Kim’s story ends. He drops off the archival record in late 1954 with the immigration issue unresolved. The last we hear of him, Kim and Paddy and Paddy’s new girlfriend--and according to at least one paper Kim’s new girlfriend, too--are still planning to move to Australia, now as a bigger, more complicated menage. I’ve poked around the arrival records there but haven’t managed to figure out if they made it. 

Kim & Paddy ‘gay married and possibly polyam in a God-honoring way’ Harford-O’Lynam

I like to think that they did. And I like to think of this story when I’m deep in those more familiar depressing trans stories. Yes being trans in the 1950s could look like alienation and prejudice and physical danger but sometimes it could also look like this: just some guy, and his husband, and his husband’s girlfriend with her arms around them both, and all of them, despite everything, smiling.

                                                         *  *  *

If anyone’s interested, TROVE, the National Library of Australia’s digital repository, has some of the articles here  (cw for transphobic language and misgendering and sexism, obviously)

Photo credits: (top to bottom) Sunday Mail [Brisbane];  Sunday Mail [Brisbane]; Singapore Standard; personal photo; The Sun [Sydney]

[justcourttee]

hiiiii i don't know if you take prompts or requests or anything, but would you maybe consider writing a sequel to A Moment Too Late? maybe with a happy ending? i love your writing!!

I tried for what I’ll call a happy-ish ending, but I hope you still enjoy it! 

*WARNING* This piece and part 1 mention attempted suicide and can be difficult for some. Please, please, please be sure you feel comfortable reading about this topic before clicking below the title. 

In The Nick of Time

Damian took his first step into the city of love at 4:00 pm.  

He had a general idea of where to begin, but the combination of no sleep and jet lag was taking its toll. He had tried reaching out to her several times on the flight over, but she ignored his every effort. It could have just been the fact that she was in her classes. She may have been suicidal, but maybe she still took her education seriously?

It wasn’t likely, but it helped put his mind at some ease, hoping he still had time. His first order of business was renting a car. Technically speaking, his father had a villa on the outskirts of the city with a multitude of cars to pick from, but seeing as no one knew where he was, he wasn’t eager to tip them off.

He gazed over the taxis lined up, eagerly looking to take advantage of the tourists piling out of the airport behind him. He didn’t want someone to eager, he just needed someone who looked on the brim of exhaustion. His eyes landed on a poor man propped against his car, his eyes drooping like Tim before his first cup of the day. Perfect.

“Excuse me sir, but I’d like to rent your car from you for the day.”

The man peeked one eye open as he glanced warily over Damian.

“Scram kid, it’s a package deal, me and my car. You can’t just rent one or the other-”

Damian smirked as the man snatched the bundle of money from his hand, popping off the taxi light that stood on top of his car. As Damian slipped into the driver’s seat, he motioned for the man to step back over.

“Here’s a couple of extra bills to catch yourself a taxi home.”

The man’s mouth gaped as if he was searching for air underwater. Damian didn’t even bother to see if he would step back from the curb as he pulled off. The one benefit of the agonizing six-hour flight was Tim’s laptop. Damian had managed to hack into each of the high schools around the city until he narrowed it down to three Marinette’s. After looking at approximate ages and distance, he assumed she had to be the first; one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Her family owned a bakery a little less than a mile from the high school and on the off chance she hadn’t stayed for any clubs or activities, she should be arriving there at any moment. Damian tapped the address into his phone ignoring the multitude of messages he had between his father and Dick.

It was a simple fifteen-minute drive from the airport.

Damian exhaled sharply as he sped down the exit. Fifteen minutes was enough time. It had to be enough time. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  .

“Welcome to the bakery! Is there anything I can interest you to today?”

The woman’s face wore a mixture of fake smiles and exhaustion. It might’ve been enough to fool the average customer, but to Damian, she simply looked one gust of wind from collapsing.

“Uhm, I’m looking for Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Is she here?”

Instantly her fake smile dropped and the exhaustion settled into the creases of her face. There wasn’t even a hint of worry at the mention of her daughter’s name from a stranger’s mouth. It irritated him.

“Look, whatever she did now, we don’t have any money for a settlement. Maybe you can work out a deal with her, but we have nothing more to give.”

The woman offered him a half bow before pointing him to a small door at the back of the store. He assumed she meant for him to go through it and without another word, he stepped past her. As he made his way up the countless stairs, his irritation only grew.

He was well aware that there were parents out there indifferent to their children, but his soulmate wasn’t supposed to have one. She was always so happy and carefree when they were younger, abusing the bond whenever she could. He assumed it was because her parents had drilled into her that it was within her right too. But after that short interaction, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Finally, a white door came into view. Hesitantly, he reached out the knob twisting without resistance. Inside was a moderate flat with what appeared to be an attic access. As first impressions went, he thought it seemed like a warm and gentle place to grow up in. Very different from the windowless stone building he began in.

He slipped out of his shoes, placing them beside a pair of light pink ballet flats before taking his first step. Someone was home and by the looks of it, it should be his soulmate. Damian contemplated on whether to call out or not. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he thought it might be worse if he just opened random doors instead. Finally, he settled on attempting their soulmate link once more.

“Marinette? Are you there?”

There was no answer, but he couldn’t be sure if that was just the continued strike from his earlier efforts. Tentatively, he took another step forward, his eyes scanning the apartment. It was pretty much an open concept, so he could see everything quite easily. The only thing that eluded him was the staircase leading above.

That had to be where she was.

“Marinette? That’s how you pronounce your name, right?” Damian sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to hit himself. No matter how he intended it, he sounded like he was some stalker here to kidnap her. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just wanted to talk.”

It didn’t sound any better. Maybe he should've stuck with a gentle introduction through their bond. Speaking out loud only reminded him how terrible he was with people. Animals were easier. Everything that needed to be said could be expressed through body language.

Biting the bullet, he decided it couldn’t get any worse than barging straight up the staircase into the attic. As he pushed open the access, the first thought that crossed his mind was-

“A mess,” clothes were strewn across the floor, remnants of paper scattered within the piles. The walls were a soft pink at one point, but it looked as if someone had taken a paint scraper to them, mere flakes hanging on by a thread. For such a well-put-together apartment, the room almost seemed abandoned.

Pulling himself into the room, Damian left his legs to dangle, his toes longing for the security of the stairs just below him. It didn't seem that she was in here either. He remembered passing another floor, perhaps that was also part of their apartment? Just as he decided to plant his feet back onto the sturdy steps, his fingers brushed over one of the scraps of paper he had seen earlier.

Instinctively, he pulled his hand away from the floor, his eyebrows furrowing. Damian was fairly certain that wasn’t how paper should feel. Reaching back out, he gathered a few nearby scraps. Turning them over one by one, a picture began to form. A group of girls, all laughing completely lost in a moment of time. His curiosity bested him as he pulled himself into the room, gathering each of the scraps he could find.

A half dozen photos was all he could form by the time he collected the larger pieces. Most were group shots, but two were of a blonde guy. Upon further analysis, he determined that he was the son of the fashion dictator Gabriel Agreste. He had seen the boy at a couple of Bruce’s international parties.

Perhaps she thought he was attractive? After all, the photos seemed to be ripped from a magazine, unlike the other four. As he glanced around the room once more, he felt like he had finally found a straw to grasp at. A reason she dropped so far, so fast.

But as much as he gathered from her room, he still had no idea as to where she might be. Her shoes were at the door, but it didn’t seem as if she was anywhere in the apartment. Standing slowly, Damian took a step back toward the access he had entered through when a breeze tickled the back of his neck.

His entire body stiffened as his hand moved slowly to where he kept his emergency kunai.

“Is that you, Marinette? If so, you’re pretty good at masking your presence. I didn’t even sense you approaching.”

There was no response, but now that he knew she was there, it was easier to pick up on her shallow breathing. In one swift movement, Damian flicked his wrist backward, ducking to avoid any retaliation.

A soft grunt earned a glance backward, his eyes widening a bit at the sight. She hadn’t even tried to dodge it. Lodged into her right shoulder was his kunai, and just below it, centimeters away from her heart, was a pocket knife. A bright pink light blinded him and instinctively his arms darted out. When he could see again, a petite figure rested against his frame.

“Marinette?” She was unresponsive, a deep ruby dripping from her wounds. “Marinette!”

What was this panic he felt rising? He’d seen comrades die on the battlefield before, wounds more deadly than this. So why couldn’t he move? Logically, he knew he had to act fast, but his body wouldn’t inch.

“You’re her soulmate, right? Do something!” Damian’s head snapped up, but he couldn’t find where the voice came from. Whoever it was, it was enough to break whatever daze he had fallen into.

“Okay Marinette, I have basic medical training and I can patch you, slow the bleeding, but I can’t remove either blade. Do you understand? I’m going to have to move you, quickly and as stable as possible.” Her breathing was shallow, but her eyelids flickered in what he hoped was a response. As gently as her could, he lifted her into his arms, attempting to avoid moving either stab wound. Her soft grunt pulled at his heart. “Hold on a little longer Marinette, please, I need to apologize.”

The stairs were one agonizing moment after another and as he laid her into the backseat of his rented car, he felt winded himself. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Damian quickly pulled out his phone, cursing as it slid through his hands.

“Dammit, where did it fall?” He frantically searched, his heart rate rising with every passing moment. Was this the world’s way of punishing him? He killed and fought and argued every passing moment of his life. He pushed her away and now that he thought he was making a change, he could just waltz back into her life as if nothing had happened? He wasn’t going to make it.

“Just drive, I’ll guide you.” Had he finally lost it? It was the same imaginary voice he had heard before. Perhaps it was his subconscious, a guardian angel? Could he really trust it? “Drive boy, take a left at the stop sign.”

He couldn’t afford to wait another moment so he did what felt most logical; he drove. The drive was killing him, each painful breath becoming slower, a dagger to his heart as they escaped from her mouth.

“Just leave the car in the front, save my friend.” The only thing keeping him going was the voice.

Damian had barely parked, his feet already slamming on the pavement before the engine had stopped. Gathering her into his arms, he burst through the sliding doors, the fear rising in his throat.

“Help! I need help!” He knew his French was rusty, but he had to try. The nurse tentatively approached him, her gasp needing no explanation. A stretcher was rushed, and as they ripped her from his arms, Damian couldn’t help the anger he felt.

“Be careful with her! She’s going to die if they shift too much!” A security guard stepped over, his hands raised as if he meant to calm Damian. He took another step forward, trying to grip Damian’s arm. “What are you doing? I need to be with her! Marinette I’m right here! Can’t you hear me? I need you Marinette! Please don’t leave me!”

Damian watched as they placed the stethoscope on her chest, grim expressions hastening their step.

“Don’t look at her like that! Help her! Please!” It felt as if his lungs were collapsing, his vision blurring. Why was he reacting like this? He barely knew her. In fact, this was his first time ever seeing her.

“Sir, please calm down. They are treating your friend right now, the best thing you can do for her is sit and wait.”

The man led him to a couch where his legs finally caved, his back sinking into the chair. Damian lifted his hands to his face, wiping the tears he hadn’t even realized he had cried, but it only left his cheeks damper than before. Slowly, he pulled back his hands, his stomach plummeting. There wasn’t an inch of skin left uncovered by the red.

“Oh, oh,” Had he really not noticed how much blood she had lost? He was so focused on getting her here that he didn’t even consider if she would make it. “I thought I could make it, I thought I still had time.”

Damian recognized this feeling rising in his chest. It was the same as when he collapsed on the roof, the same as when he heard from her after so many years of silence. Was this what his mother meant by a soulmate bond being a distraction?

He had never understood why people took the insane challenge of fighting his Grandfather for a chance to leave the league in search of their soulmate. If he was honest, he thought it was a pointless endeavor and he couldn’t begin to imagine how someone believed they could pull it off. But, as his chest tightened with the rising waves of nausea, a realization washed over him.

A soulmate bond was so powerful that even if you just met them, you felt the need to protect them, to care for them. You became vulnerable for them, scared to lose them, terrified of how the world would be without them. It was a terrible weakness and a strong ally.

“Can you walk to the bathroom?” Damian felt his head stir, but it was as if it were being pulled by strings, out of his control. “I’ll explain everything if you could just meet me there.”

How could this voice be so all-knowing? Hadn’t it just surfaced from his subconscious as a way to kickstart his movement again? Yet, if that were the case, why did he find himself rising, stumbling toward the bathroom in a daze?

He slipped into the closest stall, collapsing against the door, the minute it locked. Why did he feel so drained? It was less than 500 feet.

“Do you need to sit down? I know that this must be hard on you.”

Damian’s eyes scanned the stall in search of a source for the voice, but alas, he came up with nothing. Sliding to the ground, he chuckled to himself, his hand clutching his shirt.

“I’ve finally lost it. Todd told me this day would come, but how could a dumbass like him even know?”

“You haven’t lost anything, I’m right in front of you, you just have to push through the veil.”

Damian perked up, squinting his eyes at the space directly in front of him. Slowly, but surely, his eyes focused on a red blur until the floating object came into full view.

“Holy shi-” Two paw-like things pressed his lips together, a disapproving look monopolizing its small face.

“Can you keep it down? And what’s with all this foul language? I can’t say I approve of you being my Chosen’s soulmate with a mouth like that.”

It floated a few inches away, crossing its arms as if trying to push the point across. Damian tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. He was positive that he hadn’t had anything. Perhaps this was one of those sleepless hallucinations that Drake constantly rambled on about?

“I know that look, I’m not a hallucination, I’m a kwamii! My name is Tikki and I am Marinette’s partner. Together, we merge to become the superheroine of Paris, Ladybug.”

Ladybug? He had heard Bruce mention a Parisian team. They asked for any heroes to stay out of Paris as their villain was one that manipulated emotions, turning his victims into puppets of his own bidding. No wonder Bruce and Dick were blowing up his phone. They weren’t just worried about him running off, they were also worried about him breaking an international treaty.

Damian blinked slowly as he processed the image in front of him. Kwamiis. He had heard the legend of them back when he was apart of the League of Assassins, but he had no idea they truly existed. Why was his soulmate in possession of the most powerful being in the world?

“It’s a long story soulmate of the Chosen. I have traveled long and wide and have had many wielders before, but never one as capable as Marinette. When I first found myself as her partner, she was clumsy and shy, but so friendly and kind, always going out of her way to help people. Together, we defeated the original Hawkmoth, but in the battle, his kwamii was reclaimed by one of his partners and a new Lady Hawk emerged.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The kwamii shot him a questioning look as if the answer was obvious.

“I’m trying to give you the full picture of where it all began. You blame yourself as the catalyst, but you were only a small stepping stone in her downfall, almost not worth mentioning.”

Damian felt an odd swelling in his chest. It almost felt like, relief? Had he really been this worried that he had pushed her down this path? A lonesome tear trickled from his eye, but he was quick to snatch away.

“Marinette had friends, a boyfriend even. She wasn’t completely lost without a soulmate. After all, her parents weren’t soulmates, and her best friend was rejected by their soulmate too. She was happy.” The kwamii paused, her smile reminiscing before it slowly morphed into a frown. But it all changed when a wretched girl transferred into her middle school.”

“Just one girl changed everything?”

The kwamii nodded, small tears forming.

“She was the real catalyst. The reason everything fell apart.”

Damian lost track of how long he sat listening to the small God. When he stood to return to the waiting room, he couldn’t help but clench his fist in an attempt to calm himself. Marinette had to pull through, she just had to. Damian had to show her that there was more to life than this shitty one in Paris. He had to rescue her like his family had for him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was 36 hours before he was allowed back to see her.

She had been lucky, the knife had missed her vital organs and even though it had punctured her lung, she seemed to be on track for a full recovery, one that she needed to take slowly. Damian dealt with the police on her behalf and thanks to Tikki’s information, he was able to help them identify the mugger.

Tikki had gone ahead to talk to Marinette and to give him time to freshen up. He didn’t have much, but the little he had packed at least got him fresh clothing, clothing not stained with her blood. Alfred would not be happy with him once he returned.

Damian was unsure how to approach her. He had found some flowers in the gift shop he thought were nice and some chocolates as well. But as he stood in front of her hospital room, he realized he hadn’t figured out the first thing he should say to her.

I’m sorry? No, that sounded too arrogant after everything she had been through. My name’s Damian, I saved your life? No, that would be condescending. God, he really hated talking to people.

“Are you going to come in or just sit outside all day?” Her voice sent shivers down his spine. She hadn’t always been this cold, but he couldn’t blame her.

Hesitantly, he reached out, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. She looked angry, slight red emphasized on her pale skin, the dark circles under her eyes protruding as if they dared him to comment on them. There were a million and one wires and tubes poking out in different directions, some hooked to machines, some to random bags of fluid.

Yet, despite all of it, she still looked absolutely stunning.

“Well, sit down or something. You’re creeping me out just standing there.”

Damian shuffled awkwardly to the opposite side of her bed, his legs wobbling as he lowered himself into the chair.

“Uhm, I brought you some flowers-”

“I hate the color white.” Damian felt his eyebrow twitch, but he tried his best to hold back the expression he felt. Gently, he reached back, setting the flowers on the windowsill.

“I-Uhm-I also brought you some chocolat-”

“I’m on a liquid-only diet for the next two weeks.”

Damian could feel the red rushing to his face as he breathed deeply. He knew there was a chance that she would be spiteful, but he hadn’t been completely ready for it. His fuse was short, even if it was his soulmate, he wasn’t sure he could contain the explosion.

“Are you feeling any better?” Marinette scoffed, her eyes never leaving her hands.

“Did you fly all the way to Paris for small talk Damian?” He wasn’t sure how to respond, knowing his next words might be his last. “Ask what you really want to. Like why did I detransform before trying to face the mugger? Or why have I tried to kill myself multiple times even if each time ended in failure?”

“I-”

“Ask me why all my friends left me. Ask me why my master chose the easy way out, forgetting everything before passing on weeks later without even a single message about his death from him or his girlfriend. Ask me why I hate life so much that I just don’t see the reason in living anymore. Ask me if I think you’ll change my mind! Spoiler alert! You won’-”

“God woman, do you ever shut up? Give me five damn seconds to get my thoughts together.”

Damian instantly felt the eyes of Tikki fall upon him, the anger draining from his body only to be replaced by his rising fear. He felt the apology building up, but before he could even let the first word spill out, a bitter laugh cut him off.

“Yeah, I do shut up. But only sometimes. I figured Tikki told you everything. I also figured you’d have questions. I’m not interested in telling my sob story over again and I’m not interested in some knight in shining armor swooping in to save me, Got it?”

Damian tried to speak, but it was as if his voice were caught in his throat. What could he say to her? He wasn’t trying to be her knight? He didn’t need her explanations? Everything sounded so thoughtless, but he couldn’t string together one coherent and earnest sentence to save his life.

“What I am interested in is your nonsensical shouting. You ‘need me’? You just met me, how do you know that you need me?”

If he wasn’t already as red as a tomato, he was certain that was how he looked now.

“I,” he cleared his voice, praying to whatever was listening to keep the crack away, “I just had this feeling swell up in my chest seeing you like that. I was terrified and it scared me. It scared me to feel that way about someone who I had just laid eyes on. I had heard about soulmate bonds and how they affect you. They can strengthen you, but they can also be your downfall. I needed to get to know you, to know how our bond would affect me.”

He paused, the feeling of her eyes on him choking him up.

“I, uh, I know it’s selfish, but I couldn’t let you die. You don’t have to believe me, you don’t even have to listen to me, but I have been where you are before. But before I could even make my first attempt, I had a group of people come into my life, people who lifted me up and saved me. I was scared that you didn’t have that and I arrogantly believed I could do that for you. I’m truly sorry Marinette,  but I refuse to apologize for saving your life. If I could, I would do it over and over and over again as many times as it takes until you decide to keep living.”

The silence was deafening. Even if she just yelled at him and told him to leave, he would take it over this quiet. He didn’t dare look up, he barely felt the urge to breathe. It was as if everything fiber in him was holding their breath, waiting to hear her response, any response.

“You’re really not gonna leave me alone, huh?”

Her voice sounded tight as if she were holding back tears. The urge surged through him to reach forward and pull her into a hug, but he contained himself, defaulting to a simple nod instead. Again, the silence followed, but he was patient. He would wait all day if it meant hearing her speak again.

“Fine. I’m not guaranteeing a damn thing, but I can offer you a start.”

“A start?” Damian risked a small glance up, his heart racing at the sight. She was smiling, a genuine smile. It looked out of place among her tear-stained face, but he would be lying if he didn’t say it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Yeah, apparently I’m going to need someone to stay by my side 24/7 when they release me. Someone to take care of me. A stay-at-home nurse if you will. So, I nominate you, Damian. Your response?”

“Absolutely, it would be my honor.” His reply was instant, his smile unwavering even after she chucked her pillow at him, cussing him out in a manner that Todd would be proud of.

Yes, it was just a start. Yes, it didn't mean anything was fixed. But, there was one thing that put his heart at ease.

He wasn’t too late.

No, in fact, he was just in time to save her life. And at that very moment, he vowed to never wait till it was almost too late again.

Despite everything that had happened, he decided he could live with that.

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