#writing this before i forget it that was the coolest dream ever

[35gofbeansprouts]

💭.

[beuxwhoyouare]

Escaping Holiday Responsibilities

You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and all the boys. And who can forget about singing Hanerot Halalu after lighting the menorah. There’s symbols and entities representing all of the holidays. But outside of the season we enjoy our peace and quiet. Sometimes though a season is so rough you can’t really blame an entity for wanting to get away.

I may or may not be Santa Claus. I’d say the best perk about the gig is that when the time comes you’re almost guided to your successor who then dons the classic look. So it’s a give and take. I mean having the power to fulfill lists of gifts you desire is great, but acquiring the look of a tubby bearded old man isn’t all that. The coolest thing though is you may not know it, but just because you don’t write a list doesn’t mean you don’t have holiday desires. I can still deliver gifts based on the list you make in your hearts. Cute as hell right? I’m basically a mind reader!

Before all this Claus business, I was unemployed and recently divorced when I received the call to step into the good ol boots. So a gig is a gig. I took it and ran, but that was like 30 years ago. So now once I retire I’m actually gonna look old and ragged.

So there I was last night delivering gifts at this random place in Chicago. Doing my best to stay quiet, delivering gifts as low key as possible when CRAAAAAACK! I stepped on a large glass ornament I somehow missed. I thought I was in the clear after no one came to check what happened and as I headed on my way out a baseball bat swung at my head.

I took the hit like a champ but when I turned around to see I saw a man standing there in black sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt with the bat ready to swing again.

“Ho ho hey hey wait. I’m literally Santa.” I whisper yelled while showing snowy crystals come out of my glove.

Right as he began to swing again I pulled more tricks out of my hat.

“I know your name is Russell O’Connor. You got a gunmetal tricycle as a 4 year old because you thought the red ones the store had were tacky and wanted to look tough!”

That’s when he stopped mid-swing.

“How-how did you know that pervert? Have you been watching me for years?”

I began to hear his inner list….a young man now in his mid-20s regretting his life decisions to get a girl knocked up as a teen? Interesting. He desires to get away from the so-called mess he made.

“I can offer you a way out of the mess you made. If that’s what your true hearts wish is this Christmas?!” I pleaded to not be beaten once again.

“How do you know what I want freak?”

“Bro I’m Santa, I know when you’ve been like bad or good and whatever. Listen do you want to get away from the mess you made or what?”

“Yes okay but like how are you going to do it? You’re not going to kill me or anything?”

“Honestly no one’s really ever wished for this so I gotta be able to do it somehow. That’s the Santa magic!”

“Okay let’s go for it. Do it! Get me out of here!”

I closed my eyes and rubbed my gloved hands together and then pulled them apart. As I pulled them apart a spark started forming but I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I tried to hold it steady but before I knew it, the spark grew too wild to control. The energy then turned white and exploded.

There was a ringing and we both yelled but then black.

When I woke up I found myself pushing up from a bed? That’s weird I don’t remember finishing all my deliveries. I reached up to scratch my beard but instead of my long luscious white beard a more close shaved beard grazed my hand. Wait where are my gloves? And my beard?

I looked down at the bed I didn’t recognize before looking back up to walk over to a nearby restroom with the night light on. The dim glow painted a picture I couldn’t believe. Surely I’m dreaming?

I fumbled around the foreign room before locating the light switch, only to have the bright lights confirm what I was seeing. I raised both arms and posed….

“No fucking way!?” The cursing surprised me, being a Claus the job prevents your mouth from ever even forming a curse word.

I’m Russell? But the Santa step down process just returns you to your normal self not swaps you with someone? How did this? Could my desires have matched with his conflicting my magics intent?

I lifted the shirt barely hiding anything of my new body I now resided in. Woah…I wasn’t much of a gym person in my former life but maybe there’s reason to be. I mean look at this beef? I reached my muscular hand up to my new proud chest and squeezed. Ahhh grazing my new nipple I revealed a new found sensitivity I never previously had. Looks like that’s going to be fun, I nearly salivated.

I can do adult things again and live a life again! No more having to spend months working to achieve someone else’s dreams. Or maybe I’ll fulfill other dirtiest dreams. I mean this body should go to work somehow.

I’m sure OnlyFans would love to see how thick I am everywhere. It’s time to be a family man settle down the right way and make a good living by selling the best gift I’ve ever given myself.

My new tool hardening nearly pulling down my sweatpants waistband itself. I grabbed it before taking a peak at my new equipment. Ohhhhh looks like I’ll still be delivering gifts to quite a few people in different ways with this beer can.

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Vows

Thomas Michael Kinard, you are the man of my dreams... No, Buck thought, too cheesy, and he scribbled that out. "Tommy, you are the coolest person I've ever met..." Nope, too casual, Buck decided, scratching that line out too. "Tommy, you complete me..." No, that wasn't quite right either. Buck's mind wandered, "Tommy, your body rocks my world, and I can't wait to get you into bed tonight." He grinned at the thought, but quickly dismissed it. True, but definitely not appropriate for his vows.

Buck sighed, frustration mounting. Why was this so difficult? He knew, without a doubt, how much he loved Tommy, so why couldn't he put those feelings into words on paper?

Buck and Tommy had decided that they wanted to write their own vows, because really, there was nothing traditional about them as a couple. Buck tapped his pen against the dining table, contemplating his next words. "Tommy, when I met you, I thought I was straight, but then you kissed me and my entire world shifted." Not a bad start, Buck decided, nodding his head in approval.

As he leaned back in his chair, his mind wandered to Tommy. Was he also struggling to find the right words to express their love? Buck couldn't help but smile at the thought of Tommy, perhaps pacing back and forth in his living room, running his hands through his hair as he searched for the perfect way to express his feelings.

****

"Maddie, why is this so difficult? I know what I want to say, but I just can't get it from my brain to the paper!" Tommy groaned, frustration evident in his voice.

Maddie smiled reassuringly, "Well, I'm happy to help. What do you have so far?"

Tommy hesitated for a moment before sliding the notebook over to her. Maddie began reading aloud, "Evan, I have never met someone as unbelievably sexy as you. I am constantly thinking of what I want to do to you and fantasizing about that thing you do with your tongue..."

Tommy made a choking noise and quickly ripped the notebook from Maddie's hands, his face turning a deep shade of red. "Those ones are private," he mumbled, embarrassment radiating off him.

"Well, I would hope so!" Maddie exclaimed, her eyes widening. "Wine... I need wine. I have to forget that ever happened. He's my brother, Tommy!" Maddie exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously as if trying to physically dislodge the memory. Tommy had never felt more humiliated in his life, wishing the ground would just swallow him whole.

Sensing his discomfort, Maddie suggested, "Let's pause the vows for a minute." She grabbed a bottle of red wine and poured a generous glass for each of them. "How's the guest list coming along? RSVPs were supposed to be returned by Thursday, right?"

Tommy nodded, grateful for the change of subject. "We got the last one we had been waiting on yesterday, Evan's friend TK and his husband Carlos. So now we have a firm final number, and we can complete the seating chart."

Maddie's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Can you believe you're getting married next week?" she squealed, her earlier discomfort forgotten.

Tommy really couldn't believe it. Before Evan, he didn't think marriage was even a possibility for him and had resigned himself to being whatever the male version of a spinster was. But here he was, just days away from marrying the love of his life.

**** Buck stared at the crumpled pieces of paper scattered across the dining table, feeling utterly defeated. He needed help, but somehow, he was the only member of the fire family without a shift today. Pulling out his phone, he opened up the 118 group text. It was the next best thing, Buck thought.

He quickly typed out a message: "SOS! I need help with my vows."

Chim was the first to respond, "Not sure how much help I'll be, bro. I got married in a hospital."

Eddie chimed in, "I'm not exactly the poster child for healthy relationships."

"That's the understatement of the century," Buck muttered under his breath.

Feeling frustrated, Buck sent another message, "Seriously? No one is willing to help? Everything I've come up with is literal garbage."

Hen's reply came through, "I've got you, Buckaroo. Happy to help."

Bobby's message followed shortly after, "You know I'd love to help you, kid. Why don't you head down to the station for family dinner, and we can brainstorm."

Buck heaved a sigh of relief, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He grabbed his jacket (well, really Tommy's jacket) and headed out the door, eager to get some much-needed assistance from his chosen family.

****

Maddie sipped her wine, observing Tommy as he animatedly discussed the wedding details. She had let him procrastinate long enough, allowing him to steer the conversation away from the vows. They had covered everything from the guest list to the centerpieces (a beautiful combination of dahlias and calla lilies), the attire (tailored suits, navy for Tommy and maroon for Evan), the menu (a delectable array of Italian dishes), and the cake (a towering three-layer masterpiece with smooth buttercream and tangy raspberry filling).

Maddie knew it was time for Tommy to focus on his vows. She set her wine glass down and turned to him. "Tommy, let's get back to your vows. I want you to close your eyes and think about specific moments with Evan. Focus on how you felt in those moments – the warmth, the laughter, the comfort. Those are the feelings you want to capture."

Tommy closed his eyes, letting memories flood his mind. Evan's laughter, his gentle touch, the quiet moments they shared.

"Now," Maddie said softly, "open your eyes and write. Don't worry about making it perfect. Just let the words flow from your heart."

Tommy opened his eyes, picked up his pen, and began to write. The words poured out, filling the page with heartfelt emotions. Maddie watched, smiling proudly as Tommy found his voice.

****

Buck sat at the firehouse table, his head in his hands as he struggled with the task of writing his vows. The weight of the task seemed to bear down on him, and he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Well, you could always go traditional," Eddie suggested with a shrug.

Buck shot him a look, making it clear that wasn't an option. "What do I saaay, Cap?" he whined, turning to Bobby.

Bobby looked at Buck with a fatherly expression. "I think the problem, Buck, is that you're trying to find the perfect words, and there's no such thing. Do you know how much Tommy loves you?"

Buck nodded.

"And does Tommy know how much you love him?" Bobby asked.

Another nod.

"Then that's enough," Bobby said firmly. "Tommy knows your heart, Buck. Regardless of what you say, you show him how much you love him every day."

As Bobby's words sank in, Buck felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He sat up straighter, his mind clearer and his purpose focused. The love he shared with Tommy was the foundation, and the vows were simply a way to express that love.

With renewed determination, Buck grabbed a pen and paper, ready to pour his heart out in a way that truly reflected his feelings for Tommy.

****

The remaining days before the wedding passed in a blur, and soon the big day arrived. As the music started, Jee-Yun walked down the aisle where Bobby and Tommy were standing. She spread her petals before running over and jumping into her daddy's lap.

Maddie grasped Buck's hand, feeling it was clammy and noticing he was shaking a bit. "Ready to do this?" she asked.

Buck nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

"Then let's go see your man," Maddie said with a warm smile.

Buck and Maddie started down the aisle, and Buck's breath hitched in his chest. There, waiting for him, was the most beautiful man in the entire world. Tommy was staring back at him, his face adorned with that special, crinkly-eyed smile reserved just for Buck – the "Evan smile."

Buck had to stop himself from running to Tommy. He could not wait to become his husband. Finally, he reached the end of the aisle, and Maddie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Buck stood next to Tommy and grasped his hands, his heart swelling with love and anticipation. Tommy leaned in and whispered, "Hey, gorgeous," before giving Buck a little wink. The gesture, so intimate and playful, made Buck's knees weak. He nearly passed out from the overwhelming happiness he was feeling in this moment, standing beside the man he loved.

Bobby looked at the two men with a proud smile and began the ceremony. It felt like everything was happening too quickly, and in a blink, it was time for the vows. It had been decided that Buck would read his first, so he began:

"Tommy, I spent so much of my life desperately searching for something that I couldn't put a name to. I was lost, aimlessly wandering through life, and then you kissed me, and everything came into focus. You helped me to see a whole other side of myself and to accept myself for everything that I am. From the moment we started dating, I knew that there was something different about our relationship. Something strong. And then I went and screwed it up by talking about hot chicks on our first date."

The guests laughed politely at Buck's confession.

"But you never made me feel bad. You wanted to let me do things on my own timeline, and you were open to giving me a second chance. And after that coffee date, I swore to myself that I was going to do everything in my power to keep you."

Buck paused for a moment, his eyes locked on Tommy's, before continuing.

"Tommy, you opened my eyes to a whole new world. You have made me feel safe, protected, and like I matter. Your love is my lifeline, and I vow to spend the rest of my life working to be the man that you deserve."

As Buck finished his vows, Tommy, deeply moved by his words, responded softly, "Oh baby, you already are." His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it carried the weight of his love and admiration for the man standing before him.

Bobby smiled and indicated with a small nod that it was Tommy's turn. Tommy took a deep breath, his eyes glistening as he began his vows.

"Evan Matthew Buckley, you are sunshine personified. For so long, I lived my life with a dark cloud above me. I was scared to share my heart with anyone. I spent so many years in the closet, afraid to admit who I was. And even after I had accepted myself, I still walked around with a chip on my shoulder, mad at the world."

Tommy paused, reaching out to take Buck's hands in his own, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"You changed all that, Evan. You softened my heart and allowed me to be vulnerable. Your love melted my icy heart, and you brought warmth and light into my life in a way I never thought possible."

Tommy's voice wavered slightly, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He took a steadying breath, his eyes never leaving Buck's.

"Ev, your love makes me a better person, and I vow to spend every day of my life protecting you from the harshness of the world and never allowing anyone to extinguish your beautiful sparkle."

As Tommy finished his vows, a single tear rolled down his cheek. Buck, equally moved, reached out to gently wipe it away, his own eyes shining with love.

"I believe you have rings to exchange," Bobby said, and they both nodded, never taking their eyes off one another.

"Do you, Evan Matthew Buckley, take Thomas Michael Kinard to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," Buck replied, sliding the ring onto Tommy's finger, his hand trembling slightly with emotion.

"And do you, Thomas Michael Kinard, take Evan Matthew Buckley to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I absolutely do," Tommy said as he slipped the ring on Evan's finger, his smile so big it looked like it might actually be painful.

Bobby beamed at the newlyweds, his voice filled with joy as he proclaimed, "Then by the powers vested in me, I am delighted to pronounce you husband and husband. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Thomas and Evan Kinard!"

[syms-things-5]

Case Histories (*NEW version)

An Original Story based in part on BBC drama, The Split.

Series Synopsis: A talented small-town family lawyer, Grace Atherton, gets the opportunity of a lifetime when she is offered a job at prestigious Boston law firm, Rothman & Hale. She decides to give up the relative comfort and ease of her current working situation in favour of following a dream she’s had since she was a young law grad. She comes back into contact with old mentor and one-time flame, Andy Barber. As gifted as he is handsome, it becomes clear he’s been keeping an eye on her burgeoning career from afar. Just how much will this decision cost her?

*I had put this on the back burner for a long time but am picking it back up now as I was into the story but the writing was not the best. Let's see how this goes!

Chapter Warnings: A tiny bit of bad language, like one or two swear words.

Word Count: About 4k

CHAPTER ONE

Grace didn’t intend to spend thirty minutes sat in her car that morning. It was just that sometimes, annoyingly, it took her a while to build herself up for the day ahead.

No music, no truthful purpose for being sat in the same spot. She wasn’t nervous or anything like that; she would do the same if she was about to brave the local supermarket, or attend her son’s baseball match. It was just that she liked switching off from the world, for however short a time, and simply gathering her thoughts. Honestly, sitting in the car was the only quiet time she had to herself these days. Having a mental clear-out was what her friend, Clare, had told her, and that certainly made sense to her.

She took one final deep breath and gathered her belongings from the passenger seat. Glancing outside, she audibly chastised herself for forgetting her umbrella and after another minute or so, she finally vacated the quiet sanctity of her Nissan.

Everyone around her looked busy and important. And fashionable. This particular district of Boston had once been dubbed the “Centre of Power in New England” in an article in the New York Times that she’d read a couple of nights ago and now here she was: a working-class girl from the outskirts of Cambridge, carrying her own sandwich box and various key rings that had been gifts from her two children over the last few Christmases. She only hoped that if she carried her head as high as everyone else appeared to do, she too could give off an aura of belonging.

The deceptively long walk from her car to the building wasn’t doing anything to calm the nerves that were now building steadily inside her with every step she made across the bustling Square. Her mid-heeled shoes clacked along the spotless stone pavement as she dodged the various suits and briefcases that seemed to move in criss-crossing directions right in front of her. She regretted not wearing them in before today. She had no business wearing shoes like these but another friend, Amy, had convinced her otherwise and it wasn’t often that she splurged on something she considered to be so frivolous. She deserved it, she thought. Plus, her daughter liked them and Liv was the coolest person Grace knew.

“Miss Atherton! How are you this fine morning?” Came the breezy Texan lilt from behind the reception desk; ‘desk’ being entirely the wrong word for the glass fort currently staring back at her. “We’ve been expecting you. I’m so glad you managed to make it through all of the diversions in town. It is a nightmare, right? Hopefully, they fix the water pipes before this week is over.”

The tall, blonde, beautiful lady leaned her had to one side and smiled brighter than Grace had ever seen a human smile before. She appeared to have been waiting for her already and held out a metal key card for Grace to accept. Grace had to mentally check herself from staring at her for too long - she honestly could have been a model - before she gratefully took the card from her manicured hands. It was heavier than she was expecting, just slightly larger than a credit card, and with her full name and Letters embossed in a stylish matte black. There’s definitely no going back now, Grace thought.

“That will get you into the underground car park and your private bay is number 152. Don’t worry, they’re not arranged in any order of hierarchy or anything. I’m not actually sure why they number them in that way. It also gets you into the libraries if you need references, and the emergency lift if the fire alarms go off and you can’t use the stairs.” The lady leans in towards her like she’s gossiping about something she shouldn’t be. “Or even if you just want to have a nose around the floors. I do that from time to time myself, it’s good for building up those steps. Anyway, if you would like to follow me, I will show you to your office. It’s been redecorated for you. I think you’ll really like it and you’re the first to have the new Lineback, too.”

“Sorry, the new what?” Grace finally looks up from the card currently weighing her down as the lady moves further and further away from her and out of the lobby area

“The Lineback?” She turns around and takes a few steps back towards Grace. “It’s a new ergonomic desk chair. All the rage. It has a lever that can recline until you’re completely horizontal and then some. It’s supposedly good relief if you’re ever having a mental block.”

The lady nods eagerly but Grace isn’t quite sure what to make of all the information she’s just been handed in less than twenty seconds.

“They’re going to be investing in hundreds of them for the staff but this was a trial one and Mr Barber said you should have it in case you decided you wanted to run away after your first day with us.”

Grace chuckles nervously at the thought. “Well, that’s nice of him.”

“Tell me about it. When it arrived last week, we were all so jealous of you! Anyway, the lift is here. After you, Miss Atherton.”

The lady - Grace briefly considered it and settled on 26 years of age – extended her arm in front of her to guide Grace into the now-empty lift. She smiled broadly at her again before pressing the button for the 15th floor and neatly holds her hands in front of her like the professional she so clearly is. 

“Um, actually, it’s ‘Mrs’ but you can just call me Grace anyway.”

“My gosh,” She panics and looks genuinely remorseful. Grace immediately regrets bringing it up. “I am so sorry. I had to check your University Certification to make sure I spelled your name correctly for all of your files and for your office and I just saw ‘Atherton’ and assumed that was your maiden name. If you don’t mind me asking, you married when you were young?”

“That’s OK, it’s an easy mistake to make so don’t worry about it.” Grace shrugged it off. “And yes, I suppose we did get married quite young.”

She turned around to view the atrium gradually opening up before her very eyes. It spanned the floors as they moved smoothly up the side of the building. “This place is huge. I know it’s a large firm but still.”

“It took me about three months before I felt cool with knowing where everything was. Even now, I’m still not sure I’ve seen it all.” She moves beside Grace and they both silently take in the view falling below them.

They remain quiet as the floors continue to pass by and people looked as busy as Grace would expect them to be at this time of the morning. All fresh out of college and no doubt eager to please. She remembers her first job with a law firm, surviving on next to nothing except strong cups of coffee and onion bagels. That and nachos from a local Mexican take-away that no longer existed. God, she hadn’t eaten Mexican food in months. She’ll make a mental note of that for later.

“I didn’t catch your name by the way?” Grace asks, finally breaking the silence as the lift slows to a stop for their floor.

“It’s Evelyn but you can call me Evie.” She replies, grateful to be asked. Grace notices her visibly relax in front of her as the doors open again. “I gotta say, it’s nice to have a fresh face around here again. The bosses tend to stick to themselves if I’m honest with you. There’s hardly ever an opening for a new Associate so I think you’ll be something of a celebrity around here for a little while to come.”

There go the nerves again and Grace laughs apprehensively.

“No pressure then.”

*

“Your record is certainly impressive, Grace.” Jack nods, posing her a friendly and encouraging smile.

He has her portfolio laid out on the table between them but she doesn’t think he has looked down at it once since they sat down in the restaurant.

“The Sanders case you settled last year? The must have been a tough one. I knew his father from way back and I have to say if Benjamin was even half as ruthless as he was, you had a hell of a time settling as well as you did.”

Grace put her water glass down on the table after taking a sip.

“Thank you, I appreciate that. I was just doing the best I could for her.”

“Don’t be too humble. I don’t know what our mutual friend has told you but I am not as brutal as you may have heard. I follow all kinds of cases from time to time, I like to scout out the next generation as they say, and I followed that one very closely. That was a very good win.”

If she had to guess, she would say Jack Hale was in his early fifties. He clearly kept himself trim and healthy if his recent front cover of The Atlantic was anything to go by. An avid cyclist and golfer, knowledgeable about whiskeys and Italian Opera music, and a one-time rumoured fling of a Tony Award-winner they didn’t explicitly name but everyone pretty much knew who they were talking about, Hale was easily one of the most formidable Divorce Lawyers of his generation. Or of any generation, truthfully.

Grace had been a fan of his since he fired Benedict Turner, the smarmy tech investor who sidled up to an equally untrustworthy politician in a bid to get a government contract. Said politician eventually pulled out of the Presidential race and Turner quickly found himself out of favour with the Execs in Washington. Despite countless rumours of financial impropriety and dodgy tax filings, the thing that finally managed to get him kicked off his own board was getting his nanny pregnant for a second time and trying to blame his wife’s teenage son.

Jack pretty much risked 60 years of the near-perfect reputation that Rothman & Hale had built up in favour of doing what he thought – knew – was the right thing to do. Despite losing millions in commission from that single case, not to mentioned the vague threats from Turner himself, the tens of millions he subsequently brought to the firm as well as the priceless PR more than made up for it.

Whatever you called Jack Hale, you could never doubt his integrity, and Grace liked that.

“Oh no, he didn’t say anything of the sort.” She gently waved her hand in his direction in an attempt to laugh his comment off without, she hoped, looking like she had just told him a blatant lie.

“I think you’re being too kind again.” Jack chuckled.

He leaned in and smiled at her. It was a smile as though he had known her for years and that perhaps they were sharing some deep secret between one another.

“Believe me, Andy loves nothing more than winding me up.” He spoke, quietly. “And speaking of the devil…”

Just as Grace was about to turn around in the direction Jack was now looking, Andy appeared in her peripheral view as if by magic. It seemed befitting of him somehow.

“Mr. Andrew Barber, the greatest accomplishment of my career. I wondered when you would finally make it.” Jack joked as he held out his hand to him in a semi-professional manner.

Grace watched as Andy raised an eyebrow at him before playfully batting his hand away.

“What did I tell you?” Jack smirks at Grace as he sits down again in the leather armchair.

“What’s he been saying about me?” Andy quickly looks between Jack and Grace. “Probably 40% of it isn’t true.”

“He said you are going to be a nightmare to work for.” Grace maintains as serious an expression as she possibly can manage under the circumstances. The playful glint in her eye is something Andy instantly recognises.

“Ah, you were right, Andy. She’s going to fit right in.”

*

Grace couldn’t believe she was finally here.

It had been almost two months since the contract from Rothman & Hale had arrived on her doorstep by courier and she had awoken every day since wondering if and when the offer would be retracted. Possibly, they would realise their mistake and opt to hire some legal genius from Manhattan or Los Angeles instead. Perhaps someone with two surnames and who happened to be the scion of a former Senator.

Everyone had told her she was being ridiculous, that she firmly deserved the job and promotion, but something still didn’t sit quite right with her. Even now with her name adorning letterheads, the wide-open space and the ash-grey carpet that felt so soft she could feel it through the soles of her shoes, she was waiting for someone to tell her they had made a mistake and please could she leave the building without making a scene.

“I think I could fit my entire apartment inside your office.” Evie’s soft tone broke through Grace’s blank space, snapping her back into the room.

Her office. This would certainly take some getting used to. Grace had had to share her last office with another lawyer and a Paralegal, and there was one single lock and key to get in and out of the building. The three months it apparently took Evie to familiarise herself with the place was looking further and further out of Grace’s reach now.

She dropped her bag by the side of her new desk before spying the antique coat hanger by the inside of the door. Spotless glass shelves ran the length of one wall in front of her and the wall behind her desk, a few law texts already decorating them both. The door already had her name plaque screwed tightly into the front of it, steadfastly there as though she had been working here forever. It would be rude to leave now, Grace pondered; if only because it would take some poor soul hours to take the plaque off again.

Running her fingers across the smooth finish of her new desk, she sits down on the recliner and immediately understands what all the fuss is about. She dares not to pull the lever in case she never gets back up again but cannot believe such a comfortable thing exists.

“I told you.” Evie winks knowingly. She takes a step further into the office.

“I don’t want to take up too much more of your time. Can I get you some coffee or tea?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine but thank you for offering.” Grace smiles gratefully. “I think I’ll sort my things out and then perhaps find the staff room if you have one?”

“Not exactly but we do have a number of quiet spaces on each floor. There’s lots of comfortable chairs and coffee machines. Plenty supply of fresh fruit and sweet treats, too. Angela on 13th is a diamond baker. She’s single-handedly responsible for the five pounds I have put on since working here.” Evie grins at her, proudly. “There’s pretty much whatever you want but let me know if you get lost or need something specific. My number is on the card in front of you and my mobile is on me at all times.”

She gestures to the grey clip on the desk beside the keyboard and sure enough, Grace spies the numbers all clearly laid out for her.

“There’s also a tech number there if you have any issues with your login details. If you ask for Martin, he’s usually the quickest to respond.”

“Thank you, that’s good to know.”

“Well, I shall leave you to it!” Evie turns and makes her way out of the door. “Welcome again, Grace. I really hope you enjoy it here. It’ll be nice working with you.”

Grace feels her cheeks warm from the kind words and she nods gently in appreciation.

The view out of the window covers most of the Garden Society, already in full bloom for this time in Spring. She can just about make out Fenway Park in the nearside distance, plus part of the University where she had studied what feels like years ago. She wondered if it would be considered unprofessional to snap a quick picture on her phone and send it to Dan and her father. And any other man in her life come to think of it. Fuck, her mother would be so unbelievably proud of her right now.

“Knock, knock.”

Grace turns around from the window to find Andy casually leaning against the doorframe, all business in his dark grey suit and neatly trimmed beard but with an all too familiar smile crossing his ridiculously youthful features.

How had he managed not to age in the years since they had last seen each other? It was almost offensive, she thought. He clearly had a skin routine, the thought of which made her grin sheepishly to herself in a way that made her quickly look down at the floor so as to avoid him catching on.

“Are you settling in OK?” he asks, putting the question about why she was looking at him funny to one side for a moment. He was genuinely interested in her answer and not just asking for asking’s sake.

She purses the smile on her face and looks back towards him, before nodding gently.

“Yeh. Yeh, I think so,”

She might actually mean it now, she thinks.

“Cool,” he replies, pleased with the answer.

He moves away from the doorframe, hands still firmly in his pockets, and enters her office. He takes a look around as though he is only seeing it for the first time and has not, definitely not, been venturing in and out over the past two weeks making sure the decorators hadn’t tampered with the angles of her desk or dirtied up her bookshelves in any way.

If there was one thing he had remembered after all this time, it was that she couldn’t live with mess of any sort. So neat and tidy was she, the neatest person he had ever known, that a few of her traits were still engrained on him even now.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” He apologised, turning to face her from the front side of her desk. “I had a call that dragged on a little longer than expected, otherwise I would have met you downstairs.”

Grace looks up from taking some papers out of her bag.

“Don’t worry about it. Evie showed me in and gave me…” She locates the key card in front of her. “…this?”

“Ah, the screwdriver.” His eyes grow wide in amusement. “Yeh, you do not want to lose track of that thing.”

She gives him a confused expression but he just laughs.

“It’s what we call the security card. It gets you in everywhere, does everything, and you’ll be pretty lost without it. Apparently, it’s a Doctor Who reference? Anyway, if I only tell you one thing of use today, it’s not to lose that thing.”

“Right, got it.” She looks at it again and it suddenly feels heavier in her hand than it did before.

Andy moves towards the window while she opens her bag and pulls out her mobile phone. They’re comfortably quiet for several minutes, the silence only broken by whatever she pulls out of her bag next.

He must have looked out of this window a thousand times before today, but he still never feels less than amazed. This office was a good one, one of the most coveted on the floor, and it looked even better now that it had her in it.

“I made sure you got Fenway.” He says, nudging his head in the direction of the stadium. “I figured your Dad would appreciate it.”

She smiles appreciatively as she takes in the view again. Truly, it was awe-spiring and, as if he had somehow managed to read her mind, he nods to a spot behind her, indicating the small, round button on the wall behind her chair.

“That’s if you ever need to lower the blinds. You’ll get amazing sunlight on this side of the building.”

She’s extremely grateful she doesn’t have to ask someone about that in case it wound up being embarrassingly obvious, as these things tended to be in her experience.

“I’ve been here so long now but I don’t think I will ever get bored of this view. Sometimes, it’s almost a little too distracting.”

“Yes, I bet.” She agrees.

She takes a couple of small framed photographs from her bag and turns around to the shelves behind her.

Andy watches her position the frames in one order, rearrange them for a minute, before settling back on the original set-up, confident she has made the right choice. Even before she considered the texts and books to the side of where she’s standing, he knew she would prioritise the personal items.

“What’s this?”

Andy grabs for the small, blueish, nondescript object she had put on her desk. It’s heavy and made of clay and he thinks it’s meant to be an elephant of some kind but he doesn’t get the chance to figure it out before Grace comically snatches it from his hand and places it on the shelf beside the photographs.

“It’s a pen holder.” She replies, as though that should answer all of his questions.

He watches a fond smile light up her face. She seems very proud of it, whatever “it” was supposed to look like.

“It was a Mother’s Day gift from Sam.” She clarifies after reaching his eye-line again. “He made it in his art class.”

“Ah, the kiddies.” He bows his head slightly before looking back up at her through his eyelashes.

She couldn’t be sure exactly but something about that one look made her feel like she was 20 years old again.

“Yeh. Kiddies. You dodged that bullet, right?” she teases him.

“Well,” He half-shrugs nonchalantly, glancing more closely at the photographs. Sam and Olivia are in one of them, someone else he sort of recognises in another. “Sometimes these things don’t work out. Probably for the best.”

“Hmm.” She smirks knowingly at him and he reciprocates.

“By the way, as nice as this is, that corner suite of yours?” she asks. “How much money do I need to make the firm before I get one of those?”

“You need to sleep with Maria in HR.”

He didn’t miss a beat.

She purses her lips at him for a moment, the silence covering the entire room. Is he joking? She recognises this feeling from countless conversations they had shared years earlier, never entirely sure if or when he was being serious.

He pretends to stare intently at the photograph of her two children knowing full well Grace is staring at him and waiting for her own clarity. After another second, he turns his head slightly to look at her again, his expression not shifting. She rolls her eyes before turning back to her bag.

“Call it my blue elephant thingy.” He continues. “You’ll never need to know.”

He was frustrating then and apparently very little has changed.

“OK, out. I need to actually do some work before Jack regrets giving me this job.” Her tone is suddenly more serious as she retrieves a couple of manila files, the remnants of cases she had collected while on “gardening” leave.

Part of the job offer was dependent on her bringing these cases with her but she wasn’t sure if Jack was joking about that or not. They were only small cases after all, perhaps a five-figure settlement at the most. She was surprised he would see the value in them.

Andy watches her warmly as she busies herself with her desk, moving her silver pen to the side of her keyboard before deciding against that choice and moving it right back. Another photo of her children rests just to the side now and he knows it’ll remain there forever more.

After a beat, he takes the hint and makes his way back towards the door before turning back to face her again.

“It’s really great to see you, Gracie.” He smiles genuinely.

She looks up and sees him, as relaxed and as self-assured as he was the day she first saw him. He hadn’t changed much at all.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

*

[stephaniebrownslover]

Can i please have a soft oneshot of ticciwork:>> if u like the ship

Bold of you to assume that I may not like that ship, they're literally my reason to start writing. So of course I can do something cute-ish for you!!

Thanks for asking anon!

Also, if you want more ticciwork from me, you can check my masterlist here

My question for you is, are you fine with Main AU for little bit lore dropping? If not, please ask so that I can try writing again!

And I swear I didn't forget part 2 of that ticciwork post it'll come some time.

Main AU TicciWork Relationship Beginning Oneshot

Date: summer 2015

"The fuck do you want now?"

Clockwork couldn't help but roll her eyes. She had promised her stupid friend who was next to her that she would come to watch the meteor shower together tonight, even though it was something lovers would do, so as not to leave him alone.

And it could easily be said that she was already beginning to regret this decision.

"Just ask-asking to make sure you're com-ing with me now."

Toby, on the other hand, was having almost one of the happiest moments of his life. He was going to join an activity that had been a dream since he heard it with the coolest friend he ever had, and he couldn't help his excitement. He was constantly saying random words out of excitement, and his body was contracting.

"Then the hell are we doin' now-"

"Just answer it, p-please!"

Clockwork, who saw that he was looking at her with a pleading puppy dog look, could not help but not wanting to upset this face. Even though he wanted to punch it, she took a deep breath.

"Yes, for the billionth time!"

"Love ya', for the b-billi-onth time."

When Toby was clumsily trying to make a heart sign for her, all Clockwork had done was push him off his shoulder. She didn't want Toby to see the meaningless smile forming on her lips, she knew that he would make fun of her if he saw it.

"Fuck off."

"Okay, okay. But you can't tell me you're not exci-ted."

"Not at all."

"Liar."

Even though Clockwork doesn't accept it, she was actually kind of excited too. Although she had drawn a picture before, she had never watched a meteor shower.

It could have been even more interesting if the only thing that lit up the darkness was not the torches in their hands and they didn't go to the top of a random mountain at a late hour in the night.

But right now, she needed to make sure that nothing happened to Toby. Although she knew that he could take care of himself, he didn't want to spoil his joy, he was just so excited. There was no need for her to worry about herself, she could take care of herself.

"Are we there?"

"Nah, a little more."

For a while they walked without speaking, listening only to the fragments of dried branches crushed under their feet and the sound of rustling leaves. But this did not matter, even the silence was peaceful for them.

"A-and here we are!"

When she saw the view from where they had come, Clockwork's mouth, which was about to open, clamped shut, all the words she wanted to say were trapped on her lips.

"Ya' like it?"

Toby probably came in the morning and hung LED lights all over the place. The fact that he randomly placed fake plants and cheap decorations all over the place was an effort that could be called funny. But the most important thing was the picnic blanket he laid on the side near the cliff and the jackets he put on top.

"It's beautiful."

He must have planned this night before. 

Seeing his eyes were shining with joy caused Clockwork's lips to curl slightly upwards.

"C'mere!"

Toby, taking hold of Clockwork's arm, brought her to the side of the blanket and sat down on it himself. Clockwork also mimicked the movement he made, making her legs crossed on the cover.

When she looked at the sky, she noticed that despite the LEDs, more stars were shining than in the city. She was wondering whose soul these stars were belonged to. 

"I- you didn't need to- Why?"

" 'cause I wan-ted-ted to s-spend time with you."

"Just a simple dinner would do."

''Oh."

Clockwork cursed to herself internally when she noticed that the glow of Toby's eager eyes had faded a little. Since no one had ever done such a beautiful thing for her before, she did not know what kind of attitude she should take.

But there was no problem. She could have try to.

For Toby's sake.

Maybe her, too.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the music app.

"Tell me a song."

"Gangnam Style."

Clockwork couldn't help grimacing when she heard the name of this popular pop song.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Yeah."

"Know what? I'll fucking watch you suffer."

The moment she opened the song, she knew that Toby would get up and dance to annoy her, but she didn't think that she would invite her to this dance either.

"No."

"Why?"

"It's dumb."

"You're dumb."

"I'll kill you."

Clockwork gave such a harsh look that Toby swallowed hard. Nevertheless, he continued to talk.

"Just try, you can stop-stop if you don't en-joy."

"Fineeee."

When he extended his hand to Clockwork to get up, Clockwork reflexively ignored him and tried to stand up on hrr own. But halfway through, she took a deep breath and grabbed the hand that was held in the air for her by Toby.

Clockwork just crossed her arms and watched him while Toby performed various dance moves that were unknown.

"Y-you need to dan-ce, too."

"What a genius."

"Like this."

After nodding her head for showing that she approved Toby, who was waiting for permission to hold her arms, he put her hands in the air and threw them around randomly. He was making random movements that made no sense.

"No, stop, it's stupid."

However, Toby didn't stop because if Clockwork really wanted him to stop, she would have taken a physical action for it. And right now she was smiling in a cute way.

"And this!"

After Toby made Clockwork dance for a while, the song they were listening to finished and the song Everlong from the band Foo Fighters started playing.

"May I?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

Clockwork gently felt her shoulders being grasped. It's exactly like the slow-dancing scenes she's seen in the movies and she expected that she would have to keep up with him, not that Toby would accidentally step on her foot.

"The hell!"

"Sorry!"

"You don't know how to dance."

After Clockwork said this not in a judgmental tone, but as if she had just discovered a fact, Toby bowed his head forward.

"Idiot."

Clockwork slowly grabbed his shoulder and tried to move their bodies as far as she remembered from the movies.

After a few seconds of awkwardly shaking their inexperienced bodies, Toby rested his head on Clockwork's neck.

"Can I say something?"

"Sure."

Clockwork was still moving their bodies while trying to keep up with the rhythm. She didn't understand why Toby's body under her hands was contracting so much.

"I love you."

"I know."

Toby had already oftenly told her how much he loved her, there was nothing surprising in that.

"No, no. Like, love love."

After hearing this, Clockwork was quite surprised. Sure, Toby was a cute boy, and she cared about him in a way that she had done for no one before, and Toby always made her laugh and cared about her, and he had a stupid, but cute smile, and she loved to see him happy, and, and.

Shit.

"Oh, um, okay."

"That's stu-pid-pid. P-pw-lease for-get it."

Toby leaned his head forward, awkwardly playing with his fingers. But when he heard Clockwork's sentence, he lifted it again at the same time.

"I love you, too, I guess."

"You don't ha-ve to-!"

"Can I kiss you?"

Toby didn't seem to know what to do. His breathing was much faster than normal.

"W-hat?"

"Can I kiss your stupid lips?"

"O-o-kay..."

And Clockwork pressed her lips while they were dancing under the stars. Toby responded the kiss awkwardly.

At that moment, while performing an action that would mean many things, they both realized that they really loved each other.

This idea sounded better in my head, sorry for bad food.

[revenantghost]

[20 Question Fic Writer Game]

Tagged by @faindri and @pancake-breakfast!

How many works do you have on AO3?

18! Most are poetry collections, so a lot of smaller stories in one anthology.

What is your AO3 word count?

75,144

What fandoms do you write for?

Trigun is my main squeeze atm (and biggest in general, I have four projects for it which is double anything else--and the highest wordcount, too), but I've written for KinnPorsche, Sabikui Bisco, Danny Phantom, Vampire In The Garden, Sasaki to Miyano, Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, Goncharov (yeah... yeah), The Night Beyond the Tricornered Window, Signalis, Omori, Lycoris Recoil, and The Executioner and Her Way of Life

What are your top five fics by kudos?

No idea and I ain't looking! Trad publishing has me extremely scarred from some nasty comparison wars, so I have kudo and view counts blocked on ALL fics, including mine. From my kudos emails, though, Hallowboned has to be my top fic for sure. Last time I was paying attention most of my other fics didn't pass into triple digits by a long shot

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!!! I adore comments, and I love chatting with folks, it really keeps me motivated and chugging along. I am... very behind on replying to the comments on my last chapter rn because I feel so awful and guilty about having to quit writing

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Uh... I don't write a ton of narrative fics, and I do love me some tragic poetry, but I guess the angstiest collection might be my Signalis one, Observable System Transcendence? But my Omori poem and the Trined Soul collection might be contenders, too

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mean, Trembling Hands is a Trimax fix-it fic, so? Though the Sasaki and Miyano collection, Effortless Dreams, is definitely the most tooth-rotting fluff I've ever slapped onto the page

Do you get hate on fics?

Oh yeah, I've had my poetry called pretentious and also not good enough to be poetry lol. It's been a hot minute since that's happened, people are just jerks sometimes

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I used to! Porn with plot, my beloved. It would be interesting to explore in poetry format, but we'll see if I have the time who wants to commission some poetry porn from me lmao

Do you write crossovers?

Nah, not my cuppa

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah, many moons ago

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that is one of the coolest things fandom does. Loving a thing so much you spend the time to painstakingly transform that art into something you can read and share in another language, bro??? Translators are amazing

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I've worked pretty closely with artists a loooong time ago, but I've only written fics where I'm the sole writer. I have used other writers' ideas and outlines (with their permission, of course), but that's the closest

What's your all-time favourite ship?

I DON'T KNOW?!?! Shipping has never really been my main focus of media typically, but when one digs its teeth into me I go rabid in a completely feral but different way each time.

What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will?

))): All of them

Life feels kinda... really dire atm, it's hard to see ever writing again. However! God I want to finish Hallowboned SO BADLY!!! I have so many chapters written for it that I haven't even posted!!!!! Y'all haven't met Livio yet!!!!!! GAH 3:

What are your writing strengths?

Uh... ??? I'll be real, I've got no idea. I feel like I write so weirdly atm, it's hard for me to analyze in that kinda way

What are your writing weaknesses?

I tend to get really excited/into things and flit around and forget to explain or describe things sometimes. Thank god for having been well-trained to edit my own work. Not that I catch it all, but I try!!!

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think it'd really cool, but I'd need a native speaker on hand to make sure I don't fuck it up in my own fic

First fandom you wrote for?

I think my first piece of written fanwork was a Danny Phantom Quizilla thing lmao, I'm old. I don't remember what it was about, just that it was ANGSTY

Favourite fic you've ever written?

Ah?!?! Honestly, each project is so different and written from such a different place, I've got no idea. I'm proudest of Observable System Transcendence being my longest, most consistent project (outside of my Smaugust collection, which isn't a fan project), Hallowboned being the first thing that really inspired me in ages--and the most indulgent one lol. But each collection and fic and poem comes from such a different place, and it's hard to pull them apart and pick???

Tagging:

Whoever wants to hop in! :3

[ltleflrt]

what’re your favourite fics you’ve written and why?

You asked me this forever ago, and I had every intention of answering and then I kept forgetting because I opened it and the notification went away lol... Anyway, here's my favorite children:

Feels Like Home - a Mass Effect mShenko fic about a mechanic with PTSD and an ex-cop with addiction issues. I love it so much that I also wrote a Destiel version called Man in the Wilderness to share it with a new fandom. It’s so soft. All the conflict is external, and The Boys (pick your flavor lol) are supportive and loving and fall into each other so easily <3

There are things I like better for each versin. For FLH, Shepard is an OC, which I'm normally bad at creating, and I did such a good job with him. I love how insecure he is about his scars, and how he has tattoos of yellow flowers to remind him of his mom. For MitW I love how it still works for Dean and Cas even though I had to tweak quite a few things, and it also showcases how much my writing improved between the first and second version. It makes me really proud to see the progress I've made.

Dreaming in Digital - a cyberpunk Destiel fic where Castiel is a sentient sex bot, and Dean’s a huge fucking nerd about it. I consider this the coolest story I’ve ever written; it took me like 6 years of world building before I came up with a plot lol

Hunter’s Caress - a Western AU Destiel fic based on one of my favorite books when I was growing up. This is also one of my earliest ideas, but I put it off for many years because it required me to get better at writing before I could pull it off. Which seems like a weird thing to say about a story that I wrote while I had the original book open on the desk next to my keyboard, but seriously it took a lot of work to adapt! It just turned out so good though, and it gives me the ability to re-read a gay version of one of my favorite childhood stories, which is really fuckin' neat.

Satin and Sawdust - Destiel + panty kink, I mean…. what else could you ask for? Skilled men who love cats, that’s what. This is the first fic I wrote where I knew going in that it would be over 100k…the others were all surprises lol… but I took a bunch of prompts from those prompt posts that used to float around Tumblr all the time and smashed them together, and it turned out FANTASTIC. I just reread it last week, and I'm still so impressed with how it pulled together.

No Such Thing As Ghosts - a kid!Destiel fic with MCD. The idea made me cry, and I had to inflict it on everyone else. It makes my readers cry. Their tears taste like butterscotch.

[raplinesmoon]

Turn Back Time (KSJ x F!Reader)

pairing: baseball player!Seokjin x doctor!reader (based on the movie 13 Going On 30) genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst, smut, time travel au, 18+ summary: After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?

warnings: bodyswap au (kind of), alternating pov, teenage insecurities, bullying, Seokjin is confused, mention of sports injury, thirst, mentions of hangover, sassy thirteen year olds, mentioned infidelity (not between main characters), cheating (like in sports), swearing, angsty confessions, smut warnings: nudity, Seokjin pops a semi at the wrong time, soft!dom Jin, making out, heavy petting, dry humping, nipple play, unprotected s*x (wrap it before you tap it)

word count: 13.3k a/n: a very happy early 30th bday to our WWH! This is my submission for the Catch of The Century collab hosted by myself, @joheunsaram, and @kithtaehyung! I was super excited writing the role reversal with Seokjin, and 13 Going On 30 is only one of my favorite movies ever (seriously, it never misses on every single rewatch). I also just miss Jin so much T_T I hope you all enjoy 💜 also ty to Mars for beta-reading this as well!

listen to the playlist here!

The envelope crinkles as it’s handed to Seokjin, and his heart drops before he can even pause his iPod and yank his earbuds out, the Black Eyed Peas providing the soundtrack to his humiliation. 

Sighing, he looks at his face twisted mid-expression, half-smile and half-grimace, the metal of his braces glinting against the camera flash, and wonders why the photographer had even bothered counting down if he wasn’t going to wait for him to smile for the photo anyway. Not to mention the packet had been inappropriately labeled “Suckjin”. His eomma would be so disappointed. Looking around, he pushes his glasses up onto his nose before shoving the damn thing into his backpack, where it hopefully wouldn’t see the light of day for a few more hours.

“Kim!”

Seokjin bites back a groan at the voice bellowing in the hallway, turning to see Jackson Wang and his posse of baseball boys strolling up to him. He and Jackson weren’t friends, at least not in the traditional sense of the word, but it wasn’t like they hated each other either. They had a mutual agreement - Seokjin would offer to do Jackson’s algebra homework for the semester, and Jackson promised him a try-out spot for the school’s baseball team.

To Seokjin, it was worth it. The baseball team was at the height of status in their janky middle school - everyone knew the players on the team were the coolest, sporting the finest threads walking through the hallways, and tipping their caps to make the girls scream. But it was more than that - for as long as he could remember, Seokjin had always been the lame kid. The one that faded into the background, hiding his acne-laden face under his mop of dark hair, constantly fiddling with his glasses. He hated that.

For once, he wanted to be the special one. The one who hit the winning home run at the game, the one who made all his fellow students and teachers scream with joy, who brought the school to victory. Then no one would ever forget him again. And now, with a try-out spot on the horizon, he finally got his chance.

“Did you hear about that new chick that moved here?” Jackson’s laugh interrupts Seokjin’s stream of intrusive thoughts, and he shoves his iPod into his book. “She’s supposed to be hot stuff.”

“Dude, you should totally hit her up,” DK, one of Jackson’s cronies, eggs him on with a guffaw. Jackson waves him away with an annoyed look, telling them he needs to talk to Seokjin for a second.

His tall, muscular figure looms over Seokjin’s scrawny one, the hard surface of the locker meeting his back.

“Sooo, I know try-outs were supposed to be tonight,” Jackson drawls, looking Seokjin over. “Big day, right?”

He’s unable to respond with anything but a gulp, knowing something was up. It always was with Jackson.

“Well, stupid Mr. Kang decided that we’d have a take-home assignment, and it’s due at the end of the week. I hate to cancel tryouts, I know how much you were looking forward to them, but we’ve gotta bust our asses for this, you know how it is.”

“I-, I could do the assignment for you,” Seokjin blurts out, finally summoning the bravery to speak. This was his once chance. He couldn’t screw it up now. 

“Excellent,” Jackson’s eyes glint with mischief, his head turning to regard Seokjin with interest. He claps him on the back, the force of his palm causing Seokjin to sputter, before walking away with a wink.

“See ya later, Kim!”

The bell rings, and Seokjin immediately makes a beeline for the bathroom, changing out of the argyle patterned vest that his mother had put him in for picture day, and into his well-loved, too-large pair of Nike gym shorts that he’d found for $3 at Goodwill. Looking in the dusty mirror, he checks himself out, making sure he looked the exact part of a baseball player. His unruly hair sticks up everywhere. Sighing in frustration, Seokjin lets the water under the sink run, wetting his hands and combing it back until it lays off his face.

Great, now he looked like he hadn’t taken a shower in a week.

“Baseball try-outs?” a voice next to him squeaks, and he turns to see another kid right next to him, shorter by an inch or two, his heart-shaped smile looking up at him.

“You too?” he asks the kid, who erupts into giggles, his laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Nahhhh, it’s the dance team for me, I’m Hobi by the way,” he reaches out his hand for Seokjin to shake. Seokjin takes the hand with hesitation. Hobi seemed nice, if not a little weird. He reminded Seokjin of himself.

“Dance team? Isn’t that kind of lame though?”

“What do you mean?” Hobi asks him with curious eyes. “It’s not any more lame than following around Jackson Wang and his posse of meatheads. It’s more original.” 

Hobi straightens up when he sees the clock, the time hitting both of them.

“Oop! I gotta go, I’ll see you later dude! Good luck with try-outs!” he waves Seokjin goodbye, rushing out the door.

Hobi’s words about being original weigh heavily on Seokjin, and he wonders if doing all this would be worth it in the end. After a few minutes of contemplation, Seokjin decides it is. He doesn’t want to be original, he thinks, he just wants to be cool. 

“Seokjinnie! Show Eomma the pictures,” his mom pinches his cheeks, one hand on the steering wheel. Seokjin scowls, wishing she’d hurry up. They were going to be late for tryouts. 

“Eomma, can you please just give it a break?” he grumbles, but she reaches into his bag anyway, peeking at the envelope with the preview.

“Oh, you look sooo handsome my boy!” she coos, beaming at the photo of him with his braces showing. Was she for real?

“Eomma, stop calling me that! I hate my life,” he whines, slumping into his seat. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his most treasured baseball card, Albert Pujols staring him back in the face. Why couldn’t he be more like his hero? Not the awkward, bumbling thirteen-year-old Seokjin that he was, but an all-star.

“I wish I was thirty,” he sighs, and he watches his Eomma purse her lips.

“Seokjinnie,” she says as she pulls into the parking lot of the baseball field. “Eomma loves you very much, you know that, right? Whether you’re thirteen or thirty.”

She presses a wet kiss to his cheek, her lipstick leaving a faint pink smudge on him.

“Eomma ewwww!” he groans but hugs her anyway with a smile. He knew he’d come home to a warm bowl full of kimchi jjigae tonight.

“Good luck!!” her voice fades off into the distance as Seokjin descends into the dugout where the locker rooms were, ready to give this his best shot.

.  . . 

The sun trickles through the small windows of the dugout, the grey specks of dust flitting through the air. It’s empty. Seokjin walks through, realizing there’s no one there. Did he come at the wrong time?

Pacing around the room, he looks for something, anything that would indicate the team had been here, a spare bat, or maybe a jersey somewhere. But his heart sinks when he realizes there was nothing. He’d been such a fool.

“Ohhhh Kimmmm,” a voice says from the shadows, and Seokjin feels his blood run cold. Turning around, he sees Jackson’s figure looming at the door, a devious smirk lighting up his face.

“Jackson, what’s going on, where’s everybody—” Seokjin begins, only to be cut off by Jackson howling in laughter.

“Poor guy,” he mutters, stalking towards Seokjin with a menacing gleam in his eyes. “Did you really think those tryouts were real? That we’d let a lame-o like you on the team? You’re more stupid than I thought.”

Seokjin feels like he’s being eaten alive on the inside, shame and humiliation coming over him in waves, his head slumping forward to stare at the ground while Jackson’s words ring loud and clear in the back of his mind.

“I don’t get it, I did the report for you, you said I–, I’d have a chance this year,” he stutters, Jackson backing him up against the lockers. 

Jackson picks up a dusty baseball mitt off the ground, shoving it into Seokjin’s hands before pushing him into the locker, the door slamming shut and caging him in darkness.

“You never stood a chance, Kim. You’re just not cool enough.”

. . . 

Seokjin doesn’t know how long he bangs against the door of the locker, knuckles raw and bleeding from being cut by the metal. His voice has gone hoarse from screaming for help, knowing that he’s out of luck for a few hours.

He hated everyone - Jackson, the team, all his classmates at school who made him feel like he was worth nothing. He couldn’t wait to grow up, to get out of here, and to finally be somebody he was proud of.

Bile rises up in his throat as he looks at the dilapidated baseball mitt in his hands. He wants to fling it off into oblivion, its presence only reminding him of how silly he’d been to believe that things would be different. 

Still, it was all he had, and so he clutched it to his chest, blowing off the dust, rocking back and forth in order to comfort himself as the sun began to set outside.

“I just wanna be thirty,” he whispers into the darkness before his eyes shut and he finally falls asleep.

Seokjin snorts in the middle of his slumber, shifting around to make himself more comfortable, when all of a sudden, he feels himself land on a hard surface with a thud. Cursing, he rubs his shoulder, standing up but tripping on the edge of something soft. 

His eyes open sleepily, but it’s still dark. Grumbling, he palms at his face, eventually finding the edge of something covering his eyes. A blindfold? How had that gotten there? Lifting it off, light floods his vision, and his heart stops.

The room around him was very unfamiliar - he catches sight of the rug he’d tripped on moments ago, his eyes traveling up to the sleek bed made out of dark wood with its rumpled sheets. This wasn’t his room. Where were all the baseball posters? And his GameCube in the corner? And his desk with his iMac?

There was only one answer for this - he’d been kidnapped. Panicking, Seokjin fumbles with the doorknob, stumbling into the hallway of the apartment, his eyes widening and heart racing at the even more unfamiliar surroundings. 

“Eomma?” he calls out, padding down the hallway and taking in the sparse decorations. “Appa?”

He pauses when he sees a poster on the wall, a scantily clad woman in what can only be described as a provocative pose, and his cheeks flush with heat. He turns his eyes away quickly, feeling like he’s violating someone’s privacy.

The living room is even more strange, full of black furniture and far neater than Seokjin’s room had ever been. His eyes widen at the large flat-screen TV that sits in the corner, and he lets out a soft *wow* at the thought of being able to watch baseball games on there. 

He turns to look around more, only to come face-to-face with a mirror. But the person staring back at him isn’t Seokjin. This person was not a thirteen-year-old with acne, a mouth full of braces, and dorky wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like one of those models on magazine covers, with hair pushed back from his face, skin clearer than the water at the beach, and a jawline that could cut glass.

He screams at the unfamiliar face, thinking there’s an intruder in the house with him. He staggers backward, tripping on the raised entrance to the living room, and falling flat on his back. Pain explodes across the back of his head, and he wants to cry.

From elsewhere in the apartment, he hears a door click, and he peers over at the mirror again. He freezes when he realizes there is no other intruder. The figure in the mirror moves the same way he does, copying his exact movement, and Seokjin brings a hand to his face, seeing it rest on the jawline of the attractive reflection.

That was him. He was the man. Was this some kind of dream? Or an alternate reality? He tests the waters, feeling around his face, tugging at the skin to see if it was some sort of costume. His hands fly to his chest, realizing that he’s shirtless, and he’s amazed by the muscles he finds underneath his palms.

“What is happening?” he hyperventilates, shocked at the deep voice that comes out, so unlike his own. “What is going on?”

His anxiety increases as he begins to pace around the apartment, coaxing himself to breathe and relax and take a seat. He’d find a way out of this.

Plopping onto the leather sofa, something on the coffee table catches his eye. It’s a letter, and he pales when he sees the name on the envelope. 

It’s his. Kim Seokjin. But that’s not his address. Frantically, he sifts through the mail, growing even paler when he sees all the letters are addressed to him, and that they’re being sent to this same address. He lived here.

The sofa creaks as he rises up abruptly, searching anywhere he can for a phone. Finding it in the corner, he dials his parents’ number, silently praying they hadn’t changed it. His Appa’s voice greets him on the phone, saying that they were currently away in Korea, but they’d be back at the end of this month, and he lets out a heavy sigh. He was alone.

Seokjin thinks this is the weirdest dream he’s ever been in, but he’s interrupted by the sound of the sink turning on in what he can only assume is the bathroom in this place. 

“Seokjin, babe?” a female voice calls out from behind the door, and he jumps back, terror seizing him. This must be the strange woman who kidnapped him! She was probably some kind of weirdo, why was she calling him babe?

Seokjin searches for something, anything he can use to protect himself, settling on an umbrella in the corner. 

“I-, I know you’re there,” his voice wobbles as he yells out to the woman. “My parents are gonna be home soon!”

The door creaks open and out steps a woman. The first thing Seokjin can think of is legs. So much leg, peeking out at him from underneath a fluffy white towel. And then he screams again. Because she’s naked under there. 

“Babe, where’s the conditioner?” she asks him, crossing her arms. Her chest is emphasized by this action, and Seokjin looks up at the ceiling. This was inappropriate. He had to get out of here now!

“Come join me!” her voice fades into the background as he runs, grabbing the first coat and the first pair of shoes he sees in the entryway. The stairs of the unfamiliar building wind around him as he descends, his head spinning, and before he knows it, he’s through a golden set of doors and out onto a busy city street.

A strange buzzing comes from his pocket and Seokjin yelps. Was he being attacked? Had the government bugged him?

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you hear that?” he says frantically, pointing to his pocket. “Do you hear the buzzing?”

The woman passes him by without a second glance. 

“Kim!” a voice calls out to him. “Get your ass over here!”

Seokjin turns to the sound of the voice and stops in his tracks when he sees the person calling out to him. 

It’s Jackson Wang, all suited up for practice. But he’s not the Jackson Seokjin remembers, his tall looming figure from their middle school only growing more intimidating with the amount of Jackson has built over the years. The man chatters away on the phone angrily, gesturing for Seokjin to get in the car. What kind of world had he found himself in?

“I-, I don’t get in the car with strangers,” Seokjin says confidently, turning away from Jackson’s grabby hands. The man scoffs.

“Can you please just get in bro? We don’t have time for this, we’re gonna be late.”

“BAAABEEE?” Seokjin hears the voice from the apartment again, looking up to see the woman from the apartment calling down to him, now wearing a bra. She blows him kisses and giggles. He definitely did not want to be stuck with her. 

His head feels like it’s gonna explode, caught between two horrifying situations. But right now even though it was Jackson, the dude in front of him seemed less weird, and so, he falls over into the seat of the car, the door slamming shut behind him.

During the car ride, Seokjin peers through the windows of the car, taking in the bright lights and busy streets of the city around him. He’s in awe. He never imagined being somewhere like this before. 

“Dude, I know I’m your best friend, but you’re acting a little weird, even for me,” Jackson says next to him, and Seokjin straightens up, looking over at him. His best friend? Maybe he had all the answers to what was going on.

“We’re really best friends?” he asks, and the man snickers in response. “Something really weird is happening to me.”

“Oh god,” Jackson groans. “Did you finally get a girl pregnant?”

Seokjin feels his blood run cold. Pregnant? He hadn’t even kissed a girl yet, how could he get someone pregnant?

“NO!” Seokjin blurts out. “No, no, no, it’s even weirder! I slept in an apartment I’ve never seen before, and there was a naked girl in my bathroom and I almost saw her boobs!”

He finishes with an exhale, but the car comes to a screeching halt at the exact same time, the other man not even saying a word before he gets out.

“W-wait,” Seokjin runs after him. “Please don’t leave me here, just listen to me, I’m thirteen years old–”

“If you’re gonna start lying about your age, Kim, I’d make sure it was something legal at least,” Jackson smirks, walking ahead of him on the street.

“I know it sounds weird, but strange things are happening to me, like, like that!!”

The buzzing in Seokjin’s pocket starts again, and he freaks out, spinning in a circle as he tries to locate the source. 

“Would you stop it?” Jackson pulls something out of Seokjin’s pocket. It’s a shiny, flat, metallic object that continues to buzz in his hands. “It’s probably just Coach.”

“C-coach? Who Coach? What Coach?” He feels like his head is about to explode. 

The phone is held to Seokjin’s ear.

“HEY BAABEEE!” A voice drawls on the other end, and Seokjin screams, throwing the phone to his companion.

“Get her away from me!” he yelps.

“Okay, listen to me!” Jackson roars, stopping Seokjin in his tracks. “You need to calm down. We have a team meeting in ten minutes. I’m going to tell you what to do, you just need to repeat after me.”

“Ok,” Seokjin says, taking a deep breath.

“I am Kim Seokjin, star batsman for the Eagles. I am a tough bastard, and I’m gonna walk into the stadium and not let anyone know I’m hungover.”

“I’m–” Seokjin prepares to repeat the words, but stops when he hears the rest of them. “I AM?”

But Jackson is already gone, disappearing behind the double doors that lead to a stadium Seokjin never thought he’d find himself going into. The Eagles. His dream team.

Seokjin follows Jackson through the stadium, oohing and ahhing at all the different banners and pieces of sports memorabilia that are on display. This has to be the wildest field trip he’s ever been on.

The man next to him scoffs.

“It’s not like you come here every day,” he chuckles, sarcasm seeping into his voice.

“I DO?” Seokjin can’t believe his ears. 

The two of them walk through, scores of people greeting Seokjin and wishing him a good morning. He doesn’t know any of them, their faces all unfamiliar. But they knew him. They knew him and they loved him. He was a star.

“There he is, our star batsman!!” a voice bellows, and Seokjin is attacked by a man throwing him into the biggest bear hug.

“Coach,” Jackson whispers.

“Coach!” Seokjin repeats with a squeak, feeling the wind get knocked out of him. “You’re my coach!”

“That’s right kiddo, who’s your daddy?” the man chortles, and Seokjin responds with eagerness.

“His name is Kim— ow!” He’s cut off by a sharp jab to his chest. 

He follows the two men into the dugout, surprised to see a room full of men wearing Eagles jerseys. The team. This was the team. He was on their team!

Seokjin buzzes with excitement, waving hello to all the players with a bounce in his step. They all look at him with concern etched in their features, and the guy he came with urges him to sit down in a cubby. The shiny letters of “4 Kim” greet him, etched on the plaque that adorns the space, and a weird feeling of pride bubbles in his chest. He’d made it.

“Team,” Coach clears his throat, and a hush falls over the room, the commotion dying down. “We need to get it together. The Hawks have consistently outplayed us in every game of the season this year, and they’ve been using our own plays against us. We need to move fast, beat them at their own game, hit them when they least expect it, especially if we have any chance of making it to the playoffs this year! Don’t you agree, Kim?”

It takes a second for Seokjin to realize the man is referring to him, and he sits up straight, anxiety kicking in because he hadn’t prepared a response to his impassioned speech.

He raises his hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

The team erupts into laughter, howls echoing off the walls of the dugout, before Coach blows his whistle, silencing them all at once.

“Get out there on the field boys, we don’t have time to mess around,” and Seokjin rises up, ready to throw the ball around for a bit, happy for the familiarity of baseball to make him feel grounded when it seemed like everything about his life was upside down.

“Not you, Kim,” Coach holds out a hand to stop him. “You’re injured, remember? Your physical therapy with the doctor is in five minutes. Don’t be late.” And with a nod, he leaves.

Seokjin was even more confused. Injured? But he didn’t remember getting into an accident of any kind. 

He hoped whoever this doctor was, they could help give him some answers.

The clacking of heels signals your arrival moments later, Seokjin lifting his head up to asses the new entry to the dugout. When his eyes fall on you, he sucks in a sharp breath.

Wow. You had to be the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, pencil skirt hugging your figure perfectly, hips tapering out to an ass that he knew Irene Bae couldn’t have accomplished no matter how much she stuffed her cheerleading uniform with toilet paper. His eyes travel upwards, falling on your chest, and immediately he blushes, reminded of the woman in the apartment this morning. Your boobs are covered by a silky top, the fabric doing nothing to hide their shape, and Seokjin gulps. They look way nicer than hers, anyway. He wants to rest his face on them like a pillow.

Maybe he should ask you out on a date first, though.

“Hi Jin!” your soft voice greets him happily, a dazzling smile taking over your features, and Seokjin feels his heart speed up. He hadn’t felt this dizzy since he saw a poster of Beyonce in a bikini when he was shopping at Target with his mom. “How are you doing today?”

“F-fine,” Seokjin stammers, unable to look you in the eyes when you take a seat next to him. He tries to find interest in the specks that line the floor, but your smell overwhelms him, the sweet floral scent attacking his nose. You looked nice, sounded nice, and you even smelled nice. Not to mention you were actually nice.

And he was supposed to be alone with you? For longer than five minutes? Seokjin thinks he’ll pass out if you get any closer to him.

“How’s the leg?” you ask him, leaning over until your face is right next to his. Seokjin forces himself to look away with a blush, grumbling about how it’s okay. He wasn’t sure whether his leg or his chest ached more right now with the way you were staring at him.

“Let me take a look!” you say cheerfully, dropping to your knees, and reaching out to grab his calf, and Seokjin thinks he might throw up with the way he can see down your shirt, the soft white lace of your bra doing things to his head. He’d never seen someone more beautiful in his life. And you were taking care of him.

The next twenty minutes are pure torture, Seokjin holding his breath as you poke and prod all over his leg, stretching it in and out with curious eyes. At some point, he feels his pants start to become tight and freaks when he looks down and sees the beginning of a boner in his sweats. 

He coughs loudly, causing you to jump in surprise dropping his leg, and he immediately finds the nearest mitt and puts it on his lap to hide his unfortunate surprise guest. You smile up at him, rising to your feet.

“Your leg is doing great,” you tell him. “It should be all healed up soon, just in time for the playoffs. And then you won’t need to see me anymore.”

“Wait,” Seokjin chokes. He just met you! He needed you to stick around. Maybe you knew something about him, about what was going on. “What do you mean, ar-are you gonna leave?”

You cock your head curiously at him, and Seokjin shrinks into his seat at your intense gaze. Was he being weird around you?

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly. “I’ll always be here when you need me, Jin.”

Seokjin’s heart pounds at your words, and he shyly rubs at the back of his neck.

“Thanks! See you again—” he blanks when he realizes he doesn’t know who you are.

“___,” you tell him, raising your eyebrows up at him, turning to leave. “Seokjin? Next time you come to physical therapy, try not to be hungover, okay?”

He watches you leave with a dazed smile on his face. ___. Meeting you had been the highlight of his day so far. Despite how strange everything had been, he knew he couldn’t wait to see you again.

Seokjin catches the ball with an oomph!, shocked at how fast these players could throw. It’d only been a day since he found himself in this new body, and he’d stumbled home confused after his session with you yesterday, eventually caving and trying desperately to hail a taxi to take him back to the apartment. He sobbed in relief when he saw the strange woman was nowhere to be found, slumping against the door and finally allowing himself to breathe for the first time all day. Tears tracked down his face as he thought of how often he’d wished for this, the life he’d wanted so desperately finally finding him in the end.

Even now, as he tosses the ball back and forth, he’s unable to believe it. Him, the star batsman for the team he’d idolized growing up? He wanted to call his Eomma and tell her, but paused when he realized she probably already knew. 

“Something on your mind?” Jackson says to him with a laugh, throwing a curveball, and Seokjin feels his palm burn from the force of catching it.

Seokjin surveys the man who was the last person he remembered before everything changed, and wonders how they ever became friends. He wants to ask, but something feels uneasy about it – like Jackson would judge him for it. He would probably think Seokjin was clinically insane if  he even tried to bring up how he fell asleep thirteen and woke up thirty one day.

He wishes there was someone he could talk to, someone who got it, and that’s when he sees you waving from across the field. You’re dressed more casually today, in slacks and a soft-looking sweater, and yet you still manage to be absolutely stunning.

Seokjin feels guilty for staring at you so much like he’s a stupid thirteen-year-old with a crush on his teacher, but he also genuinely enjoyed spending time with you yesterday. Despite your annoyance at his “hangover”, you hadn’t taken it out on him with words as the others had; you went about the session as normal and treated him with kindness the entire time through.

Seokjin waves goodbye to Jackson, sprinting in your direction. He misses the way Jackson’s eyes follow his back, trained on the way you greet him with a smile, the two of you heading back into the dugout.

“Soooo, you’re a doctor?” Seokjin can’t help himself from asking, immediately feeling stupid when he realizes that he’s meant to have known you for a while. He couldn’t help it - you felt like the only real thing he could latch onto in this world, his mind running a thousand miles a minute as he processed all the new changes that had occurred.

“Yup! I studied sports medicine in college, then went to med school,” you answer politely, your tone giving no indication that you found him weird at all.

“That’s cool, you must be super smart, 7th grade bio is hard enough for me,” Jin laments, immediately realizing his mistake with a soft gasp. “Was. It was hard for me, you know, back in seventh grade.”

“Are you sure you’re okay Seokjin?” you look up at him, eyes filled with concern.

Tears prick at Seokjin’s eyes, the earnest tone of your voice giving him the push he needed to be honest. No, he was not okay. He wasn’t okay, and he needed someone to talk to, and he thinks that you, of all people, might be able to understand. After all, your entire job involved empathy.

“Something really weird is happening,” he confesses, watching you listen carefully to his words. “I don’t know what’s been going on, but the last thing I remember, I was sitting in my closet, and it’s like I’m in a weird dream. I feel like I skipped half my life – I can’t remember the person I used to be, or what my life was like at all. It’s like I don’t even recognize myself.” 

“I think I need help,” he continues. “I need help remembering who I was before. You’ve known me for a little bit, right ___? Do you think you could help?”

Seokjin thought he was onto something, but his heart drops to his stomach when he looks up and he sees you, face pale and lip trembling like you’re about to cry.

“I–, I don’t know if I’m the best person to help you with that Seokjin, maybe you should ask Jackson,” you respond, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Why?” he leans over to look into your eyes, shocked when they’re as misty as his own. “What happened, ___?”

Before he knows it, the vulnerable look in your eyes is gone, and you’re back to your normal, cheerful self.

“Hey,” you tell him. “Why don’t we pack it up for today? I’ll walk you back home to your apartment.”

“Okay,” Seokjin says, stomach still churning at the pained look you’d had moments before. “But can we get milkshakes?”

You smile at him, a look of fondness coming over you. You rise, beckoning him to follow you outside.

“I think we can manage that.”

The slurp of a straw interrupts your thoughts, and you look over to see Seokjin, eyes wide with delight as he drinks up the last of his milkshake, the whipped cream forming a mustache on his top lip.

You’re puzzled. The Seokjin you’d known before would have never agreed to hang out with you, let alone talk to you for an extended period of time. For as long as you’d known him, even in college, he’d been too arrogant for his own good, obsessed with letting everyone know the world revolved around him and him only. The man sitting in front of you is completely different, transformed in a way that didn’t even seem real.

The Seokjin that sat with you now seemed infinitely more unsure of himself, shy and hesitant in the way that only a child would be. You wonder what could have changed so suddenly. Coach hadn’t given you any reports about him undergoing head trauma in addition to his leg injury. 

“Thank you for the milkshake,’’ Seokjin grins, wiping the cream off his lips, and you hate the way your heart skips a beat at that. You curse yourself for the moment of weakness, even after all this time. 

“We went to college together,” you blurt out, not knowing why you chose to reveal this piece of information, given that he likely already knew it. “Me, you, and Jackson.”

Seokjin’s mouth gapes open, a shocked gasp escaping his open mouth.

“Really?” he says leaning in closer to you. “Were we friends?”

You furrow your brow in confusion. Had he really forgotten college? I mean it had been nearly a decade ago, and it wasn’t like life had drawn you back together until recently.

“Not really, you moved in a different crowd,” you chuckle. “Like not the nerdy, study in the library kind. More like the frat rager kind.”

“WHOAAAA,” Seokjin marvels in wonder, his voice filled with childlike glee. “That sounds awesome.”

“What if this isn’t just a dream? What if what I wished for actually happened?” he continues, softer this time, but you still pick up on it. 

Reaching a hand towards him, you pull away at the last moment, unsure why you were acting so wildly out of character with him. It was like the energy between you two had completely changed.

“Well, you got everything you ever wanted, then, might as well enjoy it,” you smile at him, heart fluttering when he gives you a sincere smile back, his cheeks puffing out with happiness.

“I have to run,” you get up abruptly, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “But I’ll see you at the gala tonight?”

“What gala?” he asks, eyes looking up at your curiously. Your stomach turns in disbelief. Did he actually not remember? Maybe his schedule was so busy he’d forgotten.

“The charity gala that I organized for the team tonight,” you tell him. “The one to raise money for medical care for athletes who’ve suffered a career-ending injury?”

“Oh! I’ll be there,” Seokjin says confidently, beaming at you. You give him a weak smile back, knowing you have to leave before you did something stupid and made the same mistake twice.

“Arrivederci, ___!” he waves, turning to walk in the other direction before he disappears around the corner.

“Au revoir,” you whisper back softly. 

Your life was completely different now, and there was no place for him in it.

Seokjin straightens his tie before stepping into his closet, perusing the many suit options he had. He wanted to pick his best outfit to impress you with tonight, but he was feeling overwhelmed with the size of the space, missing the days when his Eomma would drag him to Goodwill and they’d find the cheapest one that fit. 

He settles on a navy blue one, throwing the jacket over his shoulders, and pushing his hair up off his face, before taking a step back to look at himself in the mirror. 

Whoa. Seokjin still couldn’t get used to the way his body had changed, remembering the ugly duckling phase he’d been in the middle of before being transported here. He wonders if he was able to talk to a lot of girls now that he was more confident. Maybe he’d even had a past girlfriend that he didn’t know about. Maybe they’d even had sex.

Seokjin’s cheeks burn when he thinks about it, your face in the back of his mind. He imagines what it’d be like to kiss you, thinking about how soft your lips would feel. Why had the two of you never dated? Maybe because you worked together? Whatever it was, he hoped he could change your mind about it.

Stepping out of his apartment, he skips down the hallway to the elevator, giddy to be going to his first grown-up party. Well, not technically his first, but more like the first, he could remember. The elevator dings and Seokjin makes his way inside, a little boy his only other companion.

“Hi,” Seokjin says, but the boy just ignores him, looking at his phone. 

“I’m Seokjin,” he says, extending a hand that catches the boy’s attention.

“Jungwoo,” the boy says, looking hesitant as he accepts the handshake. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Why not?” Seokjin says, feeling confused. “We’re neighbours, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungwoo responds despondently. “But you usually ignore me most of the time.”

The way he says it makes Seokjin feel horrible inside. He would never purposefully ignore someone like that, not after knowing what it felt like as a kid. He wonders what the 30-year-old version of him had been like to warrant such a reaction.

“How old are you, Jungwoo?”

“I’m thirteen,” Jungwoo responds, and all of a sudden, the elevator comes to a stop, signaling their arrival at the ground floor. Jungwoo walks out without another word, Seokjin running after him.

“Wait!” he says sharply, watching Jungwoo turn to look at him in shock. “You should come over and hang out sometime, we can watch some baseball together.”

“Really?” Jungwoo says hopefully.

“Yeah,” Seokjin smiles, patting him on the back. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later!”

And Seokjin runs out the door, excited not only to have made a new friend but at the fact that it felt like this strange life of his was finally clicking into place.

The room spins around you, and you can’t tell whether it’s because the arm around you feels too tight tonight or because the music is boring as heck. You want nothing more than to sit down, knowing all the attention would be on you in a matter of moments, and the thought made you sick.

What made you even more nauseous was your partner’s maroon tux. Maroon. To match your navy blue. When you’d asked why he hadn’t worn the same color, his only response was: 

“Babe, this little thing isn’t that serious, right? It’s about the money.”

You excuse yourself, wanting to find some investors to talk to about how to contribute their generous wealth towards your aspiring fund, only to catch sight of Kim Seokjin in a corner, knocking back drinks with a giddy smile.

“____!” he waves you over happily when he sees you, taking your hand to pull you in close to him. “I can’t believe it’s 10:00 pm on a school night and I’m at a party, drinking pina coladas that aren’t virgin!”

Your jaw drops open when you see what he’s wearing. Navy blue - a smart-looking suit to match your gown perfectly, and you feel the back of your neck grow hot with thoughts you shouldn’t be having. 

“Glad to see you’re doing better now,” you giggle, and his smirk turns lopsided with glee at your kind words, its unintended effect being to cause butterflies to bubble in your chest.

“I’d be even better if they turned off this boring music,” he slurs contentedly, taking another drink from the server. “Why don’t they play some throwback tunes in here?”

“I’m not sure that fits with the sophisticated vibes needed to gain a corporate sponsorship for my cause, I’m afraid.”

“I’d donate money to you,” he says softly, his warm eyes twinkling from the numerous fairy lights as they meet yours. “Heck, I’d give you my entire paycheck.”

Setting the glass down, all signs of his previous tipsiness disappear as he regards you with a serious stare. You watch his cheeks flush, his gaze dropping to the low neckline as he sharply inhales, bringing his eyes back up to your face.

“Wanna go for a spin?”

You’re mesmerized by him, transfixed as you take his hand, the two of you retreating into a private corner of the ballroom, right by the open-air balcony. The cool breeze creates shivers down your spine as Seokjin pulls you close, his warm breath fanning against your face, and despite your best efforts to look past him and out onto the city lights, you find you can’t take your eyes off him.

It all feels too short, barely a minute of you swaying in Seokjin’s arms before the beat changes abruptly, Usher blasting through the speakers. You feel achingly empty when Seokjin’s hand leaves yours, but the smile returns to your face when a moment later, he begins head-banging and gyrating goofily to the new song.

“Now this is more like it,” he hollers, and you can’t help but join him the two of you twisting and turning until you’re laughing, out of breath and delirious with joy. 

The joy is cut short when another shadow looms over your meeting, pulling you into his arms.

“___, babe there you are! What are you and Kim doing hiding away in this corner?” Jackson pulls you into his side, and your stomach drops when you watch Seokjin’s eyes go wide with a mix of shock, and what you can only assume is pain.

“Sorry Kim, I know you get her for the PT during practice, but she’s mine for the PT after hours if you know what I mean,” Jackson grins, pressing a kiss to your hair.

Seokjin’s mouth remains agape, and you watch his eyes glimmer with realization as he pans to the thin band that adorns your left ring finger, finally noticing its presence for the first time.

A sharp squeal interrupts the tense moment between you, and you notice a woman in the tightest dress you’ve ever seen run over to Seokjin, nearly knocking him over as she wraps her arms around him. His entire body tenses up, and you want nothing more than to smooth over the hair that has fallen into his face.

“Baaabe, you’ve been ignoring me,” the woman whines, her nasal voice grating your ears. Of course. It’s Jennie Kim, model extraordinaire. Of course, she would be Seokjin’s date now – a match worthy of his striking looks and personality. 

“Who are they?” she says vapidly, taking in you and Jackson’s entwined figures.

“I, uh, these are, this is ___, and Jackson, coworkers, and friends from college,” he stutters, trying to unravel himself from her death grip. “And this is, uh, uhm…’

“Jennie Kim!” Jackson immediately lets you go to take her hand, shaking it furiously. “So nice to meet you!”

“Babe, we should get going,” Jennie tugs on Seokjin’s shoulder. “Don’t you remember we kind of had other plans for the night?”

“W-we did?” Seokjin stammers, and you decide you need to walk away, lightly tugging Jackson’s arm to follow you across the ballroom. Of course, he’d go home with her - she was beautiful, successful, and perfect. And you were just you.

“___,” you hear Seokjin’s voice behind you, yet you don’t want to hear anything he has to say. Jackson has left your side once again, going back to talk animatedly to Jennie, and you’re alone together once again.

“Should I go home with her? Jennie? Is it a good idea?” he asks, and you turn, meeting his gaze, which seems so earnest, so genuinely filled with concern for what you thought. Or at least that’s what your overthinking mind told you, kicking back into gear after eight years of wiping all thoughts of Seokjin from your memory.

“Yeah, you should,” you tell him honestly, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. “She’s your girlfriend, after all.”

Seokjin yawns, Jungwoo’s animated voice yapping away in his ear as the two of them walk down to the lobby together. His night had gone later than he expected - too much of it spent lost in the city streets as he’d run out of Jennie’s apartment, not expecting her naked boobs to be in his face the moment they’d come in. Her hands had been all over him, ignoring his suggestions of quitting to watch a movie or maybe even play a game of Monopoly.

“Girls are sooo stupid,” Jungwoo sighs. “Why don’t the ones you like ever like you? Why do they give all these weird signals?”

“Tell me about it,” Seokjin sighs, your face immediately coming to his mind, thinking about how you’d felt in his arms at the gala. Obviously, you’d looked beautiful, but underneath the dim lights, you shone in a way that he didn’t think was possible, one that made him feel very strange on the inside.

“Love is a battlefield, my friend,” Seokjin ruffles the kid’s hair before getting into his waiting taxi and waving goodbye. “Have fun with fractions! Remember, always divide by the number on the bottom!”

. . . 

Coach was furious. The team was failing, their chances of making the playoffs dismal, and he made that clear with how he ripped into them with the speech.

“You better shape up now, or this franchise as we know it will be over!”

“Maybe that’s what we need,” Seokjin blurts out, watching the entire team turn to him. “Maybe we need to get our asses handed to us. Maybe we need to actually experience loss to realize how much is at stake. Because winning is great and all, but don’t we learn more from our failures?”

The locker room is abuzz with chatter, Coach clapping Seokjin on the back. 

“I knew you wouldn’t let the hate get to you, kid,” he says, and Seokjin looks at him blankly, wondering what he could be referring to.

“ESPN?” Coach says. “That article they ran a few months ago about you being a slimy, unprofessional cheat just because you “injured” that player for the Cardinals? I knew it was all BS. I mean look at you, how could you hurt somebody when you’re injured yourself?”

Seokjin’s stomach sinks. He’d hurt another player? That was something he’d never dreamed of doing. He loved baseball, and everyone deserved to experience the joy of the sport, whether it was through winning or losing. That was what made a good player, not sabotaging others.

One by one, the players get ready for practice, Seokjin finally suiting up to go bat for the first time in a while. His sessions with you had tapered down as he recovered, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. The more and more he thought about the life he’d always wanted, one as a star baseball player, the more awful it seemed. Being a grown-up wasn’t as fun as he thought - people were liars, cheaters, and just plain old mean. But you weren’t like that.

The bat slams against the ball with a satisfying crack, soaring out towards the far end of the field, and Seokjin prepares to run. But two voices behind him make him stop in his tracks.

“Can’t believe Coach is trusting Kim and his new weird-ass stunt,” Jackson seethes. “Like he’s really gonna help rebrand the team? All he cares about is himself.”

“Yup, the prick was the entire reason our last shortstop got traded,” Jaehyun, one of the left fielders, hisses. “Can’t believe Kim had an affair with the guy’s wife.”

Seokjin drops the bat with a clank, the entire team turning to look at him. But he doesn’t care, storming off into the dugout. Was this really who he was? A bully and a cheater? Being thirty no longer seemed like a dream, it was steadily turning into a nightmare. 

Storming through the dugout, he finally finds the door to your office, sighing heavily as he raps against it.

You open it within seconds, shocked to see his dejected figure standing in front of you.

“Wanna go for a walk, ___?”

“I can’t believe you and Jackson are getting married,” Seokjin remarks as the two of you walk, bringing up the proverbial elephant he’d wanted to ask you about ever since the night of the gala.

“Only a couple of weeks now,” you respond, wrapping your arms around you to fight off the chill, and Seokjin wishes he’d brought a jacket to keep you warm.

“Are you guys soulmates?” he asks, genuinely curious to know the answer. ‘Do you get butterflies when you’re around him?”

He knows that his question is loaded, that underneath it hides the depth of the feelings he’s managed to keep concealed for all this time, but he asks anyway, knowing the answer may hurt him.

“Nahh, I don’t really believe in that anymore. The last time I was crazy like that for a guy was in college,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders.

“Why weren’t we ever friends back then?” he asks you again, feeling you come to a stop next to him, your heavy sigh permeating the tense air between you.

“Listen,” you tell him, and your voice sounds thick with what he thinks are tears, “Can we just please forget about it? It was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Seokjin knows he may not have any reason to apologize but he still wants to anyway. It seemed like he’d left a trail of destruction behind him wherever you went.

“Seokjin, no, please, you don’t have to apologize,” you grab his hand and give him a weak smile, trying vainly to reassure him, but his rapidly racing thoughts get in the way.

“I want to though,” he says back, his own voice cracking. “I mean, do you even know the kind of person I am, ___? I don’t have friends, I just use people, I slept with a teammate's wife, and I never talk to my parents. I’m not a nice person. And the thing is, I’m not thirteen anymore. I need to stop living in the past.”

And with that, he lets you go, ignoring your cries of protest as he runs away, his mistakes following him until he gets home. Closing the door behind him, he slumps to the floor, sobbing while he dials his parents' number.

It was time for him to make things right.

Seokjin stares down at the facade of the house he’d grown up with, the chipped paint and wide windows instantly soothing his heart. The train ride over had been brutal, his empty eyes watching the scenery drift by aimlessly, ignoring the giggles of the group of teenagers that sat next to him.

He wished he could tell them to stay happy and young forever, to continue living without a care in the world. Being a grown-up wasn’t worth it. Instead of bringing him the happiness and the belonging he’d craved, it only made him feel more alone, more empty inside than he’d ever felt as an awkward teen.

Stepping onto the porch, he reaches under the doormat, relieved to see his parents left a spare key there. It was like they’d been waiting for him to come home this entire time.

As he walks through the door, a chilling realization sets in. The house was empty. His parents weren’t here, they were probably in Korea. And all at once, Seokjin’s hope for coming back came crashing down.

Stepping out of his shoes, he leaves them at the door, sprinting up the stairs to his room. The door creaks open, and Seokjin lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

The bed is gone, replaced with a treadmill. The walls had been repainted, the floors redone. The lone thing that remained of his was the desk in the corner, all his belongings still on it. It serves only to remind him that his parents had always waited for him to come home, but eventually, they too must have grown tired of him.

A sob escapes him, and he realized he’d disappeared completely from their lives, not even bothering to keep up with the only people who’d loved him unconditionally his entire life. All of a sudden he feels nauseous, his stomach turning as he realized the fate the threads of time had woven him - a life of loneliness. One where he spent so much time garnering attention, only to be a forgotten soul anyway.

He rushes into the basement, the garish yellow walls exactly as they’d been seventeen years ago, and locks himself in the utility closet. Tears stain his face as he hiccups, slamming his head back against the wall.

“I wish I was thirteen again, I wish I was thirteen again.” But his pleading words fail to work this time around.

He doesn’t know how long he remains crumpled up in the closet, but he doesn’t hear the front door open. He doesn’t hear his parents pad down the basement stairs, umbrellas in hand until the closet door opens, light seeps in, and he’s met with their concerned faces.

Seokjin leaps to his feet, throwing his arms around them.

“Eomma, Appa, I missed you. I missed you both so much.”

.  . .

The rain patters against the window, and Seokjin turns over on the couch, watching it gently fall. After a bowl of his Eomma’s kimchi jjigae, he’d felt the most like himself he had in a long time, the two of them fretting over how thin he’d gotten. 

But now, alone in the living room, Seokjin felt like an intruder again. His parents were more used to living without him than with him.

Suddenly, his throat feels dry, the number of tears he’d shed today leaving him parched. He gets up, padding over to the kitchen, keeping his footsteps soft so he doesn’t disturb his parents. Flicking the light on, he walks over to the fridge, opening it to get the water jug out.

“Seokjinnie?” his Eomma’s soft voice comes from behind him. “What are you doing awake at this time?”

Seokjin should have known better than to get up in the middle of the night. His Eomma’s sixth sense had always been knowing when her child needed something. Within five minutes, she’s boiling some frozen dumplings and chopping up vegetables to make him food. 

He’s grateful for her attention, but his stomach churns with nausea. She may be the only other person he can talk to about this. Other than you.

“Eomma,” he interrupts her quiet concentration, and she looks over at him from the stove, her eyebrows etched with concern. “If you were given a chance, do you ever wish you could go back? Like to a different time?”

“I’d love to go back and take care of some of these wrinkles,” she chuckles, and Seokjin smiles along with her. Her face hasn’t changed at all since he was thirteen, still as youthful as ever.

“Yeah, but if you were given a do-over, let’s say, what would you change? Like if you made a big mistake,” Seokjin asks, wondering if having regrets was just part of growing older and whether there was still hope.

“Well, I don’t regret making any mistakes in my life, because if I hadn’t made them, I wouldn’t have known how to make them right,” she responds, a knowing twinkle in her eye when she sees Seokjin staring down at the food, failing to meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry I haven’t come home in a while,” he says, his voice heavy with regret. His Eomma reaches across the table, taking his hand in her smaller one, and squeezing it gently.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“This doesn’t make sense, I’m not even good at baseball,” you tell Seokjin. “Why do you want to practice with me?”

Seokjin looks at you, strolling through the park with him in a cosy-looking hoodie and jeans. While your outfit may not have been ideal for baseball practice, the way he looked at you still sent your heart aflutter, and you wondered what it’d be like to wear one of his oversized sweatshirts.

“That’s exactly the point, ____, I’ve gotten too comfortable practicing with the team. I know their every move, but we need to step it up for the playoffs. That’s why I need someone different. Someone who can keep me on my toes. Someone like you.”

You cover your face with your hands shyly, palms out towards him, and that’s when he decides to launch a curveball. 

“OW!” you yelp. “Hey, I wasn’t ready for that!”

“Like I said,” Seokjin smirks. “I need you to keep me on my toes. Looks like you need me to do the same.”

The two of you toss around the ball for a while, your throws being much more unpredictable and much less powerful than Seokjin’s. Your ego inflated exponentially when you saw him miss a few, a smug expression on your face. When you look up at the sky, you realize it’s gotten dark, the sun beginning to set behind the trees.

“Hahaha, looks like the team might need a replacement pitcher soon,” you taunt him.

“In your dreams, ___, stick to helping people instead,” he laughs, immediately running towards you with a devious grin.

You squeal, running away from him, the two of you chasing each other through the park, your laughter echoing through the trees the entire way. 

Eventually, your legs tire, and you slow down, hiding behind a tree out of his sight. It’s all for nothing when you hear his footsteps thud on the running path behind you, his arms coming to wrap around you, sending the two of you toppling into the grass. 

“Ahhh, shit, that hurt more than it should have,” you groan, shifting onto your back. “We’re getting old.”

When you look up at him, your heart stops. Your heavy breathing slows as you look up at him, the stars from the night sky reflected in his eyes when he stares down at you, something hidden in their depths that makes your chest come alive with excitement. 

“Wanna know a secret, ____?” he laughs, stroking your wrist gently with his thumb, and you look over to see your hands intertwined. You hadn’t even noticed you were holding his.

“You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever known.”

Seokjin’s plush lips descend towards yours, your breaths mingling for a brief moment before panic sets in, and you turn the other way, his kiss ending up on your cheek instead. You feel dizzy with emotion, immediately regretting the decision, knowing all you wanted to know was if his lips felt as soft as they looked. You’d been fooling yourself for so long, thinking your feelings for him had gone away.

You sit up, silence heavy in between you both, but you don’t leave, instead wrapping your arms around him and leaning onto his shoulder. He sighs contentedly, nuzzling against you, and the two of you remain there, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance.

“Ew, what do you mean you guys didn’t kiss properly,” Jungwoo looks at Seokjin from across his bed, five other pairs of young, curious eyes looking over at him. “Did she have cooties or something?”

“Stop it!” Soobin punches Jungwoo in the shoulder, earning a glare from the other boy. “You’re ruining the romance. Are you gonna ask her out, Jin?”

The baseball game in the background remains forgotten as the boys erupt with chatter, arguing amongst themselves about how to ask out a girl.

“I don’t know, guys,” Seokjin says dejectedly, wondering if the reason you’d only let him kiss you on the cheek was because you were engaged to Jackson. “It’s complicated with like, grownup stuff.”

“At least you have someone who likes you,” Felix groans. “Girls don’t exactly want to jump your bones when you’re a metal mouth.”

Seokjin jumps up at that, shushing Felix for even saying such a ludicrous thing.

“None of that, okay! We are young, and we are thriving. Love may be a battlefield, but we’re the Earth’s finest soldiers. So let’s get out there, yeah?”

. . . 

It’s finally here. The game that will make or break the Eagles’ season. And it’s also Seokjin’s first game back. The locker room is abuzz with tension and anxiousness, the players tripping around each other as they get ready.

In his cubby, Seokjin sits, and thinks. This was the moment he’d waited his entire life for. To be a star player, and to win a championship. Yet, in the grand scheme of things that had occurred, it was just another thing he had to do. He no longer faced the same anxiety he had during the day of the tryouts, wondering if he was good enough. He knew now that he was. That all of them were.

“Kim!” Coach slaps him across the back. “Speech please!”

Seokjin rises up and looks at his fellow men and teammates. He feels silly, giving a speech to them when he’s probably the lamest out of all of them, with thirteen-year-olds for friends and a hopeless crush on a girl. But then he remembers the words of that kid in the bathroom right before everything had changed. Hobi.

And he’d rather be original than cool anyway.

“I think,” he begins. “Over the course of the season, we’ve all forgotten that we have a reason for this. Baseball is our sport, and it’s our career, yeah, but there’s more to us than that. We have families, friends, and people we love and care about. We’re doing this for them just as much as we’re doing it for us. Because when we go out there on that field, and we put the love we feel for ourselves, and for everyone around us, into the sport that we play, we’ll be at our best. We need to remember what used to be good, and harness that.”

The whole dugout is silent for a few terrifying moments before there’s a clap from the back of the room. It’s joined by another one until the whole room is thundering in applause, and Coach is hugging Seokjin with tears in his eyes.

“Looks like that time off did you real good, kid.”

. . . 

Seokjin is the last one to leave after the victory, of course. He strips off his shirt, hitting the showers until all the sweat has dripped off his body, and now he pulls his workout gear over his head. The sound of a voice clearing behind him interrupts him, and he turns in surprise, seeing Jackson in the middle of the dugout.

“Hey,” Seokjin says. “Aren’t you supposed to go home? Isn’t ___ waiting for you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kim,” Jackson replies, ice in his tone. “I know your entire little stunt, and I’m here to tell you it’s not gonna work this time.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin feels his heart race at Jackson’s seething accusation.

“The moment this week ends, I’ll be married to ___, and I’m gonna ask Coach to trade me. You can’t have her this time, Kim. Do you think you can just bat your eyelashes and giggle and you’ll win the team over and get the girl? Nuh-uh. You’re still just a lame excuse of a person.”

Seokjin wants to protest, but he remains frozen, Jackson’s words causing his entire world to come crashing down around him. His lip begins to tremble, and when the first tear falls, he hears Jackson scoff, turning on his heels to leave. 

“You never stood a chance, Kim. Deep down, you’re still just that scared, uncool thirteen-year-old. Nothing’s changed, and nothing ever will.”

The week before the playoffs passes in agony, Seokjin knowing that Jackson knew about his feelings for you, and the fact that he’d be traded, and you’d go with him. He spends all his time in his apartment, talking with Jungwoo about what to do, he and the younger boy go through many pints of ice cream.

In the end, he calls the one he knows he needs to hear from the most.

“Eomma?” he asks over the phone. It feels good to tell her everything finally. She’d squealed in delight when he told her about you, telling him that Jackson was just being a quote, “butthurt dipshit.” “What should I do?”

“Oh Seokjinnie, only you know that. Just stay true to yourself, and all the answers will come your way, my boy.”

When he hangs up the phone, a notification pings on it, and he gasps at the headline.

“Jackson Wang traded from Eagles.”

In all his misery, he’d forgotten what day it was. He was almost out of time.

. . . 

The Internet was truly capable of modern miracles in this day and age, Jungwoo working his magic to help Seokjin find out the location of your wedding venue. Seokjin doesn’t even change out of his ratty sweats, throwing on his coat and running as fast as he can down the city streets, his phone overheating at how many times he ignored the maps function and changed direction.

Eventually, he comes to a stop outside the swanky hotel, strolling through the revolving doors and stumbling into the lobby. The finely dressed guests pay him no notice, and he manages to steal a bouquet of flowers, covering his face as he runs up the stairs two at a time, until he eventually finds your room number.

He knocks on the door, relieved to find it’s open, and that you’re alone. It must almost be time. You don’t notice him come in, too busy fixing your veil. A soft gasp escapes when you see him behind you in the mirror, disheveled and dripping with sweat, and you turn.

Seokjin thinks his heart might explode at how beautiful you look, your dress hugging every part of your body perfectly. But it’s more than that. Everything about you is radiant, glowing from the inside out. It’s like you’re the sun, and he’s the moon, your bright light complimenting his dim glow perfectly.

“Hey,” he manages to breathe out.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice heavy with disbelief that he’s actually here.

“____, I know I’m not the greatest person, but I’m trying to be better,” he reaches for you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and your hand comes up to join his, eyes glimmering with tears. “And I’d like to think if you also believed that about me, maybe you wouldn’t be marrying Jackson right now. That maybe things could be different.”

You whimper, trying hard to hold back the tears, and Seokjin doesn’t want you to ruin your makeup, so he wipes them for you.

“I can’t lie to myself anymore,” you tell him. “I felt things for you over these past few weeks that I haven’t felt for eight years. But I’ve also realized over the past few days that you can’t just turn back time.”

“Why not?” Seokjin asks earnestly. He wants to believe, has to believe that there might be a way for it to work. 

“Because you made your choice, eight years ago in college, when I told you I liked you,” you respond, barely a whisper. “And you rejected me. I moved on and so did you. We’ve been going down different paths for so long, making different choices. And I chose Jackson.”

Seokjin feels dizzy, like the floor is about to collapse from underneath him. You’d liked him back then. And he’d been too caught up in his delusions to be honest with himself, to give you the chance that you deserved. And now it was too late. He knew growing up was about making mistakes, and learning how to deal with them, but somehow this mistake hurt more than anything he could have imagined.

“Don’t cry,” you say sadly, seeing his eyes fill with tears, mirroring your own.

“I’ll be fine,” he says with a weak smile, backing away. “I promise. I’m crying because I’m happy. I want you to be so, so happy.”

You reach around your neck, fumbling with the clasp of your necklace until it finally comes undone, putting it in his palm gently.

He looks down and chokes on a sob. It’s a tiny gold baseball glove. He’d never noticed it before. You close his palm around it, and he takes a step back, finding himself underneath the door.

“I love you, ___.” 

He has to say it before he goes, he has to let you know how he feels.

“I love you too, Seokjin. I always have.”

And with that, he leaves.

. . . .

Seokjin stumbles down the steps of the hotel, hyperventilating as he finds himself back on the street, the tiny gold necklace still clutched in the palm of his hand. 

He stumbles down the busy road, bumping into strangers, but not caring. All he could think about was the fact that you loved him back, and yet life was still so unfair. Seokjin felt stupid for even dreaming of this in the first place, realizing that dreams were nothing but a delusion. Things never turned out the way you wanted them to, the black and white of them always complicated by different shades of grey.

He finds an empty bench and sits down, clutching his knees to his chest like a child. Running his thumb over the delicate gold charm, he closes his eyes, wishing that none of this had ever happened to him, that he had just stayed thirteen this entire time.

He knew it was all for nothing, but that didn’t stop him from hoping one last time.

Seokjin jolts awake with a gasp, air burning his lungs and light hurting his eyes as the door to the locker is thrown open. His vision is blurry for a few seconds before it adjusts, and he looks up at his rescuer.

It’s a young girl, with a concerned look on her face.

“I heard you screaming, I live right next to the field. Are you okay?” she asks, and something about her seems familiar, but Seokjin can’t quite put his nose on it.

Looking down, he sees the dusty baseball mitt crushed in the palm of his hand, and running his tongue across his teeth, feels the metal of his braces, and his heart swells with joy. It worked! He was thirteen again. And now, he could finally start over.

“I’ll be fine,” he smiles at her, putting his glasses on. They rest crooked on the tip of his nose, but he doesn’t care. “Thanks for saving me.”

“No problem!” the girl reaches her hand out for him to shake. “I’m ___, by the way. I just moved here.”

Seokjin feels his heart stop, looking into your eyes, finding them to be the same ones he’d said goodbye to moments ago. Was this really true? Was the universe giving him another chance? 

Taking his hand in hers, he shakes it, beaming down at her. “Nice to meet you, ___, I’m Jin. D-do, do you maybe want to go grab a milkshake and hang out?”

Your dazzling smile hasn’t changed at all, as you nod your head and laugh, the two of you walking out of the dugout and into the warm afternoon sun.

“I think we’re gonna be best friends, Jin.”

Epilogue

Seokjin pants, breath coming out in gasps as he carries the heavy box up the porch steps. He slams it onto the ground with a thud, putting his hands on his knees and letting out a loud groan, the muscles of his back aching. When he looks down, his mouth parts in surprise, the box’s tape having split open, revealing the myriad of photo frames that would soon decorate your new home.

From just a brief glance, Seokjin can already see a few pictures that make his heart swell, a dazed smile on his face. There was the one of you two at prom, when he’d almost confessed after seeing how stunning you looked in your dress but chickened out at the last minute. There was another from your college graduation, the two of you with bright eyes and wide smiles, ready to take on the future together. Another one from a date night at a game where he remembers the two of you getting caught on the jumbotron and making out in front of the crowd. His halmeoni blushed when she saw the video on tv the next day. On top of them all, though, sits Seokjin’s most prized possession: the framed photo of your wedding, Seokjin in a navy blue suit, and you in your dress, surrounded by your friends and family.

Growing up, Seokjin had a lot of dreams. A lot of them revolved around being cool, becoming someone worthy of your love. It was strange, but he’d fallen for you instantly the moment you’d rescued him from the locker, but it had taken years of your friendship for him to make a move. He’d always been so scared that his nerdy thirteen year old self would follow him through the years, and that he’d remain someone you never saw as a life partner. But he was wrong. Because you’d fallen for him too, spending years hiding your feelings in the same silly way. The day he married you was the day he’d realized all his dreams had finally come true.

Your soft footsteps come up behind him on the porch, and he turns to see you looking at him with a curious smile on your face. The sun shines behind you, bathing your face in its soft rays, and Seokjin can’t resist, lifting you up as you squeal, kicking your feet and the two of you stumble over the threshold together.

“That was a lot more romantic in my head,” he chuckles, offering you a hand up. 

“Jinnie,” you poke his cheek. “Who’s gonna get the boxes from outside now, huh?”

Taking your hand in his, he pulls you further inside with him, wanting to cherish these precious moments with you. The boxes could wait a little longer. For now, he was excited to begin the rest of your life together.

“God, it’s fucking freezing,” you chatter your teeth, feeling Jin pull the blanket tighter around your  shivering bodies on the floor. “Why did the heater have to break right before we moved in?”

His warm figure pulls you closer into him until your bodies are smushed together, limbs entangled in a mess.

“Nothing wrong with a little body heat,” he whispers, and even though you can’t see his face, you know he’s smirking. 

You turn towards him, ignoring his soft ow! when you punch him in the chest, before burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your eyelids flutter, heavy from the fatigue of moving in all day, but the draft in the house causes you to shiver again in Seokjin’s arms. Looking up at your husband, you find his deep brown eyes focused on yours, his warm, gentle breath fanning against your face.

Seokjin’s fingers reach up to slowly brush a stray hair from your cheek, and despite the cold, you feel your body flush with warmth, bumping your nose against his accidentally before your lips meet Seokjin’s pillowy ones.

You’ve done this a thousand times, but every time feels like the first, Seokjin’s tongue tracing the seam of your lips before he bites at them, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Touch me,” you whisper against his mouth, and you feel Seokjin’s grip on your waist get tighter, his hands running up and down your sides until you’re shivering, but not from the cold.

He guides your hips over his, his right hand pushing you down against him until his hungry lips meet yours once again before they drop to mouth at your neck, sucking deep purple bruises into the flesh there, and you bite back a moan.

Seokjin detaches himself from your neck, eyes dark with arousal as he looks at the splotches and faint sheen of saliva on your neck, and you feel a wave of longing rush down towards your core, grabbing his hand that rests on your back and moving it underneath your shirt, cupping your breast in his hands before he squeezes.

From there, the two of you are frantic, fumbling with buttons and kicking your limbs until your clothes fly off, and you giggle at Seokjin’s pyjamas in the corner, the cartoon characters on them resembling miniature versions of your husband. Your laughter is cut off by a sharp groan when Seokjin’s teeth graze your collarbone, biting down lightly.

“You’re perfect,” he rasps, laving at the mark with his tongue. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

His fingers trace up your stomach, thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts before he tugs at your nipples, and you whine, grinding down into his lap. You feel him harden underneath you, and you roll your hips on top of him again, nails scratching down the broad planes of his back. 

Seokjin flips you around, caging your body underneath him, his knee pushing up right where you need him, his tongue flattening against your stiff nipple, sucking and teasing the bud until it’s red and aching.

“Need you inside,” you bed him, your hips bucking against his knee while his hand slips between your legs, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

You feel the pressure in your stomach build, your movements stuttering against Seokjin’s fingers. It’s amazing, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough. You need to feel him.

“Look at me,” Seokjin whispers before he pushes himself inside of you, his eyes never leaving yours. You feel so unbelievably full, like you’re going to explode, body scorched with heat and nerves tingling in excitement.

He starts off slow, gently rocking into you, silently asking you if this is okay. His gentleness makes your heart feel like it’s going to explode, the moonlight shining on his skin and bathing him in the softest glow. You feel lucky that he’s yours forever. 

You meet his thrusts with circles of your own hips, your back arching up off the blanket as you moan for him to go faster.

“This okay, babe?” His thrusts speed up, snapping into yours, and you’re unable to do anything but slur yes, your voice ringing in your own ears, your moans mingling with his soft groans as the two of you move in tandem, lost in the feeling of each other. 

You grip his shoulders tightly, a string of curses exploding from your lips as the pleasure washes over you, your vision going white.

“Come for me ___,” Seokjin’s deep growl has you hurtling over the edge, trembling as you fall apart underneath him. You whine in oversensitivity when he continues moving inside of you, squeezing his hand until he collapses on top of you, his warm cum spilling into your wet heat.

“Fuck,” Seokjin groans, burying his face into your neck. “My back is gonna be so sore when we wake up.”

“Can you believe we’re here?” you ask him, looking into his eyes. “Married, with our own house? We’re so old now.”

You mean it as a joke, but Seokjin presses a kiss to your forehead, his sweaty arms wrapping you up in a tight hug.

“There’s no one I’d rather grow old with,” he smiles, before his expression turns mischievous. “Now, since we can’t sleep anyway, what do you say to getting some milkshakes, Mrs. Kim?”

“That sounds like a great idea, Mr. Kim.”

A/N pt 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[m-aster-of-spinjitzu]

the hues of an empty sky

Missing memories, or having two of them for one moment - not quite the same, but if there's one thing Jay's leant over the last few weeks, it's that literally nothing makes sense anymore.

Or, some Skybound aftermath, Zane actually expressing emotions about his memory switch being turned off for all those years, and what was supposed to be a 'they tell everyone about the erased timeline' fic, but it turned into a 'two characters who barely interact on screen talk at like one am in the morning, and don't actually tell the other what exactly they're alluding to the whole time' fic that I wrote at like one am- 

Also yeah, I realized too late that they split up to look for Wu after s7, we’re just gonna pretend that they waited a few days or something, idk anymore tbh, lol.

(I also didn't have time to edit - so please tell me where the typos are? 😂💛)

Word count: 4539

Prompt: crying, from @ninjago-bingo 's warm board.

Trigger warnings: the main character has a panic attack, and squeezes their fingernails into their hands once or twice but I think that's it.

*facepalms* also, guys, i’m so stupid - i literally just realized that this freaking CHANGES TENSE HALFWAY OHMYGOSH I-  i don’t think it’s super noticeable, but ugh, apologies to anyone who actually thought my writing was good lol-

---

It's cold.

Bitterly, freezing cold.

The biting chill of the air is a bit strange for this time of year, but, heck, that's nowhere near the craziest thing that's ever happened to him - not by a long shot.

He sighs, squinting at the stars dotted liberally against the black canvas of the sky.

Cole had once joked that one of them might be the remains of their golden weapons, after they'd hurled the burning mass into the sky - in another alternate timeline; one that only existed in the memories of a certain few.

Gosh - that seemed like such a long time ago.

Wouldn't it be nice to go back to that time, when he'd still thought that their powers were the coolest thing ever - instead of despising them for all the responsibility and sacrifice that came with them? When one of his biggest worries was whether the girl he had a crush on liked him back - not wondering if his friends would survive the night?

"I did not expect to find you awake at this hour, Jay."

Reflexivity, he jumps back, his mind twisting his friend's gentle voice into the- the djin's triumphant, accented one.

You're supposed to be a ninja. What good are you if your friends can still sneak up on you?

"Geez, warn a guy before you sneak up on him! I almost fell off the Bounty!"

"My apologies. I was... surprised to find you awake at this hour," Zane answers. "What are you doing?" "Couldn't sleep. It's too cold," he confesses, not entirely a lie. Ninjago wasn't 'that' far from the Sea of Sand, but he'd grown up in a much warmer area - unfortunately resulting in his practically nonexistent tolerance to the cold. That never failed to stop Kai from teasing him about it, though. He doesn't mention the pressing weight on his chest, almost tangible - or how it constantly makes him feel. Like he's being dragged through the darkness of an empty sky, spikes of fear making everything so freaking terrifying- "You?"

"I have been analyzing my memories of Pixal, in the hope that it may lead me to her whereabouts. However, all my efforts have proved... unsuccessful," Zane answers wearily, shifting his gaze to the sky.

Oh- oh. They'd all be so caught up in the chaos of the last few weeks - hey, it's not like any of them had asked the universe to permanently be out to get them! - that they'd forgotten Pixal was still offline.

"Hey, I'm sure that she's still there somewhere," he says, earnestly. "After all - she wouldn't be your girlfriend if she didn't pull a vanishing act every now and again, eh?"

The question is punctuated with a laugh, but he doesn't say that he's a little worried about her too. They hadn't talked much, but-

I can't see one of my best friends find out that his girlfriend is dead, a quiet voice at the back of his mind points out. Well - been there, done that, wouldn't recommend, he thinks bitterly. Emotional breakdowns and frequent nightmares apply. Anxiety attacks are half off, too!

It's quiet for a few minutes, neither of them seeing a need to break the silence. The wind blows softly through the sails above them; gray wisps of cloud revealing a pale sliver of moonlight that paints the sky in its glow.

It should be a peaceful night: beautiful, calm, no one trying to kill them or destroy their city - for a change.

His hands won't stop shaking.

It should be a peaceful night, but, as usual, the world is too freaking unfair for that-

He hasn't even slept for a full night in weeks! Well, not since- since-

Don't think about it! That's only going to make it worse, duh-

"Are you alright, Jay?"

"Yeah- I- I'm good, thanks," he says quickly, ignoring the way his breathing keeps speeding up. FSM, not this-

Not for the first time, the world suddenly becomes too loud - too much. Every little thing, from trying to breathe properly or even walk- feels insurmountable, because, gosh, oh gosh, it's going to come crashing down if he even moves-

The memory starts off the same as it always does.

Rubble strewn over the temple grounds, his friends literally reduced to nothing more than statues. A shot that hit the mark perfectly, but perfectly shattered his world in the process.

A poison-splattered dress, a terrifying realization.

Her well-aimed joke, but one that never fails to sting every time. Gosh, why hadn't they just allowed her to join their team in the first place? Maybe they could've prevented this- this- whole situation, if they hadn't been so freaking egotistical-

And, again, he's overwhelmed by the sheer sense of helplessness, all his power and training and skills completely useless to one of the people he cared most about. FSM, if only I hadn't used my first w-request so carelessly! If only I'd been able to escape- or, or if only I'd been able to assemble the team faster! If only-

Despite being in what must've been unimaginable pain, she offers a strained smile - a sweet gesture that, ironically, feels like she's poisoning him, because- because FSM, this is all so wrong, it wasn't supposed to end like this-

He watches with horror as her eyes dull and she stills in his arms.

She's gone, FSM, she's gone and it's all my fault-

"Jay?" a voice asks, concern evident in their tone. Distantly, he registers that he's having a breakdown in front of one of his best friends - one of the things he'd been trying really hard to avoid.

Dang it.

"I-" he tries to say, but, great, he's breathing too fast to even get the stupid words out.

"Breathe in for four seconds," Zane says, softly.

Four seconds? Time has no meaning right now, narrowed down to, like - falling down a chasm, terrified of what's at the bottom, except the fear's all around, this- this... foreboding thing of his mind that keeps yelling that he needs to run, or fight, but he can't, can't-

Right. Four seconds.

You're okay, you're fine, no one's trying to hurt you or your friends. She's not dead.

But what if- what if they're being dragged out of this ship right now? What if it was all a dream, and she's dead anyway, because all of us were too stupid to come up with another plan, and none of us could even do anything when she-

After a little while, when he could breathe a little easier, and the fear didn't feel like it was slamming into him from every possible direction, he slowly opened his eyes. Shakily, he wiped a tear from his face - as if that would wipe away all the weeks that had, theoretically, never even freaking happened.

The sky comes back into focus - pinpricks of light against pitch black. 

How was he going to come up with some sorta explanation without... well, explaining everything?

Great.

My nerves are frayed, and I have to lie to a walking lie detector - what could possibly go wrong?

"Are you alright?" Zane asks, his brows creased in concern.

"Heh heh, yeah. Probably just too many video games," he replies quickly, laughter a bit strained.

"You were muttering to yourself," his friend replies quietly. Ugh, trust the way-too-observant-nindroid to call him out on the remains of his facade. "If you do not mind me asking, what was 'all your fault'? I am sure that it was probably a misunderstanding."

You're the one who misunderstands everything, he thinks wearily, ignoring the part of him that yearns to tell someone else about... well, everything that's happened because of that stupid teapot. He's not one to keep secrets by nature, and it's been taking a bigger toll of him than he'd thought it would. Is this how Nya felt when she was still the Samurai? "It's- it's nothing, probably just nonsense."

"Are you sure? You seem... quite worried about something."

Dang it, were his hands still shaking? He presses his fingernails into his palms, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

He's talking to one of his best friends, FSM. Weren't friends able to tell each other anything?

"Do you think it's easier to forget? Better?"

He didn't even realize he'd asked a question until Zane's eyes widened in surprise.

A forest coated in snow, ice crystals dangling from the tree branches above their heads. Plenty of screaming - way too much, he reflects, couldn't they have been a bit nicer? It must've been pretty jarring to learn that you weren't human, or that your father had erased years of your life from your mind - in that weird underground treehouse. Those crazy tree monsters - and the realization that they all had much more power than they'd thought.

"N- nevermind," he stutters, fleetingly thinking of kicking the deck. "That's way too personal, you don't have to answer it-"

"I do not mind," Zane says, a bit sadly.

Oh.

Heck, his friend was way too nice.

They gaze up at the stars for a few minutes, not really seeing them - one drowning under the weight of too many secrets, the other, too many memories.

It's quiet - too quiet.

Ugh, he thinks, sighing, that sounds like something a low-budget horror movie would start with, cringey sound effects to match.

But the silence is a painful reminder of the days he'd spent tossing and turning in a cramped cell - nothing but his worries and the bruises on his leg from that stupid ball and chain keeping him awake.

He's been trying hard - maybe too hard - to avoid being alone, avoid being in a situation where they've gotta be quiet ever since then, because, dang it, his memories always seem to fill the silence, and they're always far more terrifying than they should be-

It's easier, in a way, to be mocked for his stupid jokes than it is to relive a single moment from those nightmarish few weeks.

Almost reflexively, he grasps for something to fill the quiet.

"Heh, this is a bit awkward. It's okay if you wanna leave-"

"I do not mind," Zane echoes, walking a bit closer. "It is not as if I need to sleep. But... I do not quite know what to think of your question."

There comes the answer - or a semblance of one at least, and it's the last thing he'd been expecting.

"You don't know?" he blurts out before he can even think of trying to filter the thought. Way to treat your friend who's been nothing but kind to you, Jay. "But you're- you're a nindroid! You know everything-"

"Pixal," his friend mutters softly, sighing, and the hurt, the fear, laced through the word makes something in his heart practically twist. He knows all too well what it feels like to be in that situation - even if, technically, it had never happened.

Then- "I wish that were true. But I suppose that my emotions make certain situations much more complicated than... than they need to be. Thus I cannot give my perspective on this - or, at least, without sounding quite conflicted."

"You know that you're allowed to be conflicted, right? Even the coolest Nindroids don't know everything."

"...Yes, I suppose so."

Jay frowns at the almost subconscious hesitation, eyebrows creasing in concern.

"Seriously," he starts earnestly. They're both leaning on one of the railings just above the deck now. "Just 'cause you're a nindroid doesn't mean that you've gotta chase some kind of perfection that doesn't even exist."

He doesn't miss how Zane's eyes widen in shock, their bright blue hue glowing a little brighter - and heck, if that doesn't hurt even more than the earlier realization.

"Besides - it's not like none of us haven't made mistakes before. Hate to go all Wu on ya, but they help us learn or some stupid thing like that. Even if the mistake is trying not to make 'em, you know?"

"Thank you," Zane replies, a tired smile on his face. "Even the most advanced tech is susceptible to error, I suppose."

They've all made lots of mistakes, heaven forbid if one of them is still agonizing over messing up over the crazy situations the universe constantly put them in. It's not like they were told they'd have to face more ancient evil armies than they could count, were they?

Maybe it's time to stop focusing on events that never even happened, and pay more attention to your friends. What's the point of being part of this team if you're always scared or selfish?

"Shut up," he mumbles, rubbing his temples. What's the point of fighting if your own brain is gonna fight you whenever it gets a chance? A few seconds later, he schools his face back into his default anxious grin. "Great, cause I- I- could use your advice on something." "Alright," comes the quiet reply, his friend seemingly lost in thought.

"What if you wanted to tell someone something, but you couldn't?"

His breathing starts to speed up again, but he grips the deck until his fingers are practically bruised, stark white against his tanned skin. Not this time-

"Is this what you were referring to earlier? An event that you blamed yourself for?" Zane asks, eyes flitting between the floor and the sky.

Dang it, way too observant as usual. He masks his surprise with a laugh, but the conversation definitely isn't going as planned and, oh gosh oh gosh, what if-

No, there's no way that any of them would even believe that. Besides - no one can remember stuff that they've forgotten, especially if magic's at play.

"Yeah, kinda," and he's surprised by how steady his voice sounds. It's not easy to even think about that- event, talking about it is a whole different thing. A much more difficult thing, but also - a bit, a little bit, easier. "I-" "Apologies for interrupting," his friend interjects. "I suppose that I have not been entirely honest with you." What?

"A few days ago, I discovered a number of deleted memory files buried deep within my code."

Just like that, his whole world tilts out from underneath him.

It takes every ounce of his strength to keep himself from falling into the abyss again.

Wait, what?

Has he really known for all this time? It's been weeks! Surely he would've said something? It can't be, it never even-

The rational part of his mind points out that he can remember every day of those few weeks. Well, he was the one to make the wish - magical logic is kinda stupid, but maybe that's why he had to remember it or something?

Well then, a small voice interjects, why was Nya cursed to remember everything too?

Of course, even the stupid magical logic doesn't even make sense to the one who caused this whole mess in the first place.

"They were almost entirely corrupted - scrambled in a way that I am not familiar with. However, I did realize that certain files bore dates that have not even occurred yet. I dismissed it as a problem with my code, however..."

Breathe, calm down, it's not like he was able to process them or anything-

We agreed that no one was supposed to know! What if they end up blaming us for keeping it a secret this long, or, or-

"I mean, they could've been-" he starts, but the way in which he's nervously twisting his fingers is a pretty clear indication that he's lying, dang it.

"So when you mentioned that you were unable to tell someone something - did you mean that it was because they had quite literally forgotten about it?"

Great. Fantastic. Of course the literal robot has pieced it together by now-

He squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, hoping that if he ignores the problem, maybe it'll go away.

Okay, fine, maybe he's trying to figure out a way to fix this whole mess. Doesn't mean that he's any closer to coming up with a solution, though.

"Er, yeah," he whispers, shoulders slumped, eyes still firmly shut. Because gosh, he doesn't want to - can't, can't - see the realization dawn that, yeah, he's lied to people he's known for years and years, even though they've all seen way too many times that secrets bring nothing but trouble-

"Well, then - I would say that you don't have to tell them," Zane replies, surprisingly... earnestly? That, or he's either too freaked out to understand the tone properly. Could be either.

He opens his eyes, hesitantly.

And it comes as a bit of a shock to find nothing but concern reflected in his friend's.

The almost persistent weight on his chest feels a little lighter now, like the sky isn't as quite so empty.

Well, it still kinda is. But that doesn't hold as much weight as he'd thought it did - not if one of his friends is willing to look past that; past the heaviness of holding up all those memories with nothing his single star, flickering in and out of the darkness, to try and light the unforgiving darkness of the sky.

"Why?" Jay asks, so quietly he can barely hear it himself. "Don't I owe it to them? Do you?"

"No. Definitely not," comes the reply, so full of conviction that he almost stumbles back. Why-

"My father..."

Oh- oh.

"thought it was better to spare me the pain of mourning him than for me to know who I was," Zane confesses, hesitantly. "Not that I disagree, necessarily. I just..."

He trails off, clutching the railing so hard that the wood almost snaps beneath his titanium fingers.

It takes Jay a little while to realize why - why exactly his friend, who has access to a wealth of knowledge and information, is grasping for an answer. Because- because, well, even if someone does something in your best interests - sometimes the choice isn't always up to them. Or maybe it is, but it was... difficult, to say the least, to let go of the fact that his parents had never told him the truth sooner. Not that he blames them, necessarily - it's not like they knew that his father would pass on before he'd even get the chance to meet him - but... it's confusing, and difficult, not to know why you were left at a junkyard as soon as you were born. Maybe if he'd known that sooner, he could've asked the one person who might've had answers - although it's not like hoping for the past to change will actually change it.

They don't even know that you know, a small voice at the back of his mind points out, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense-

"You wanted a choice," he breathes, eyes widening. A choice - like one that he'd never been given, one that he stills struggles not to hold against two people who've always had his best interests at heart. Even if they did have the right to withhold that one thing, after all they've done for him - the 'what if's' still echo in his mind far more often than he'd like. "There's nothing wrong with that, even if it feels that way. I kinda get where you're coming from, dude, and it's... super confusing, but I'd be pretty mad if my memories were tampered with like that."

So would anyone, he realizes, heart sinking. Oh, great. Not helping-

"I- I suppose so?" Zane answers, but it sounds more like a question than a reply. "However, in the same vein, it would be unwise for you to give away your choice whilst you still have one." "But don't I owe it to everyone? You just said it, it's horrible to alter people's memories and I- I-" "Did we forget... whatever it was for a good reason? "I- I mean, I guess, but..." "Then you do not owe it to us to relive something that we do not even remember." The words should be a relief - and they kinda are. But some part of him really does want to explain the crazy alternate timeline, and everything that happened in it. It's just... really, really freaking difficult.

"What if- what if I wanted to, though?" Jay asks hysterically, running his hands through his hair in a frenzied sort of way. "And I still couldn't? I just, I-"

He cuts himself off with a bout of forced laughter.

Zane takes a moment to reply, the bright blue light in his eyes flickering - a small tell that he was thinking so deeply, his processors were literally sparking up a bit.

"You queried earlier if it was easier, or better, to forget. And while all situations are different, I suppose it is... well, subjective. What do you think?" Zane asks, softly.

Derailing the conversation a bit, but his friend's obviously smart enough to be leading up to something.

Sure, he'll go along with it.

"I mean, there are some things I'd rather forget, you know? I guess we all know what that feels like," Jay replies, the statement with oddly sad air to it. They're still kids, after all, and it gets a bit exhausting pretending that their superhero lives were all fun and games - when they'd just given him enough grey hair to last then lifetimes, and enough nightmares to keep him from ever getting the normal amount of sleep his mum always prattled on about.

Sleep, heh heh. Practically a foreign concept, now.

"And I know that stuff that happens, like shapes us or something - and Master Wu would probably go off on a whole ramble about why we learn from our mistakes or whatever," he laughs nervously, resisting the urge to just fall headfirst onto the deck of the stupid ship instead of continuing the conversation," and how 'our scars only make us stronger', crap like that, but I just-"

"I'm just really... tired of this," he confesses warily, shoulders slumped. "W- I remember so many horrible things, and I-" he breaks off, laughing bitterly. His voice takes on a sort of brittle quality, way too high pitched, "and I can't even talk about them, dude. If that's not the most pathetic thing ever, I dunno what is."

"It does not-"

"Don't say it," Jay mutters, rubbing his temples. "I know, I know, my feelings aren't pathetic, they're always valid, whatever, spare me the lecture-"

"That is not what I was going to say," Zane replies gently. "It just seems that you have answered your own question."

"Gee, which one?"

"I do not know how much helpful assistance I can provide in this situation, but it is understandable to wish certain events had never occurred. However, seeing as we cannot change the past, it seems unwise to dwell on said events if you can avoid it."

Jay stiffens, clamping a shaky hand over his mouth. Something seems to press down even harder on his chest, a heavy sort of weight that causes his breathing to speed up again. Don't say it don't say it there's no reason to warn them this time-

"If you would like to tell any of us about something, of course you are welcome to. It does not to be the whole story, after all. Just make sure that it is the decision you choose, not one you choose because of what you think how it will affect others," Zane finishes quietly, ducking his head as if he's embarrassed.

The stars are still white-hot, burning away some million miles above them.

"Thanks," he says, and puts his hand softly on Zane's shoulder. "I mean, I know - that all makes sense, I guess. It's just- I-"

"You want to?"

"Yeah," Jay starts, sighing, "I do. It's just- it's not just my choice. And I'm pretty much dying already right now, so, as fantastic as making it all worse sounds, hard pass."

Oops, maybe he shouldn't have said that last bit. They'd agreed not to tell anyone about it - even this conversation was cutting it way too close. It wasn't impossible for them to put everything together - they were a pretty smart group, after all, even without their resident inventor and engineer - and Jay didn't really know what he'd think if they did. Fearful? Relieved? Angry?

"That does... not sound great? Dying certainly does not seem-"

"It's called sarcasm, Zane."

"Oh- yes. My memory now accesses the fact that people often speak in that manner. It does seem a bit counterproductive, though. Why not just say what you mean?"

"Shut it, you have no clue how integral to my life it is," Jay replies with a halfhearted grin.

A few seconds later, he remembers something his friend had mentioned earlier, and the grin disappears.

"You know that you can talk to us if you're not happy, right?" he asks, earnestly. Sure, it's not like he could always do that, considering, well, a stupid djin and even stupider magic, but it's not like he needs to. It's- well- he'll be okay, probably. Maybe. Kinda.

Zane's eyes blink on and off again, blue fading in and out. "I... I suppose that I was not quite aware of that."

Okay, they've screwed up way too many times, but this... this is pretty bad. Dang it, how long does it take for them to throw self-preservation instincts at their friend before he freaking- picks them up or something?

"However, will it not hurt those who have experienced the same unfortunate events?"

Dude, not the best question to ask someone wondering the exact same thing-

"It's been... uh, nice, kind of, talking to you. So- I don't think so, and I'm pretty sure someone would say so if it did. Besides, don't we talk about our adventures all the time? It'd probably be better if we... uh, well- heh heh, nothing."

"If we talked about the less than positive elements of them? Perhaps, but I still-"

Maybe it's the fact Zane has always tried to be there for him, or maybe he's too sleep deprived to care anymore, but this is a way too familiar situation and-

Well, not ignoring the issue would be a start.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we're family, Zane. We care about each other. And, gosh, that means that we care about you too. Memories are stupid and annoying sometimes, but we have to make good ones too, right? To block out the bad ones a bit, I guess? Kinda, at least."

They both look away from the stars now, grappling for something else to say.

In the end, they leave it be with a hug and a fondly exasperated warning about sleeping, if you happen to need it.

After all, they're family. They don't have to be perfect, or tell each other everything - even if it does take them a long time to realize that, and an even longer time remembering it.

---

The next time Jay startles awake from a nightmare, the sky is still empty - painfully so, like an ache that simmers beneath the surface even when it's not able to be seen.

The hue, though, is a little lighter.

Just a little - the all-encompassing darkness of it is now a navy sort of blue, his star shining a little bit brighter.

It's still not sunrise, not even close - but he'll take it. AN: the ‘sky’ mentioned at the start and end is a stupid metaphor that i somehow ended up liking too much to trash, it’s ‘empty’ because he hasn’t told anyone about the timeline, and Nya’s not included because they never had a chance to tell each other everything significant or even talked about it or processed it on screen. so yeah! if you read this,,, not great thing, can i send you a hug or good vibes or smth? tyy🥺

[buckythesunshinesoldier]

OH NANAMI, YOU LIAR!

so, i doubt someone's gonna read this, i just had to write it, anyways, if you read it, forgive me for the shitty english and thank you❤️

-all the times nanami lies to you-

(nanami x f!reader, a little bit sad, some blood, some people crying)

⚠️: big ass manga spoilers, major character death, my bad english and a shitty ending.

kento nanami is so beautiful, and a good person, he's serious, he's blunt, he's tall and the coolest sorcerer you've ever seen.

maybe that's why you've been in love with him since you were just a teenager trying her hardest to look cool while doing her sorcerer stuff...just for him, because you're sixteen and thats what sixteen years olds do in front of their crush.

maybe thats why you're in love with him a tone years after, looking at the only beautiful eye that's left on his half burnt face, in the middle of some place in shibuya's station.

there's only one problem with kento nanami: he lies (like a lot).

he tells you that he will go to the movies with you when he comes back from that easy mission he has to go with haibara.

oh, nanami, you liar!

he tells you that he only needs a couple weeks to heal after the mission fails, but he'll be back (he promises) and then you will for sure go out wherever you want to.

oh, nanami, you liar!

he tells you that it's ok for you to accept to go on a date with gojo, because gojo is going through a lot, but if it was fine, why did he never call you back?

oh, nanami, you liar!

he tells you, when you see him after some years in a small bakery, that if you haven't changed your number, he'll call you so you can go out for a drink and catch up, but he must be really busy with that job of his, because he never really does.

oh, nanami, you liar!

you see him again, of course, he comes back, like he told you, just ten years after, and you can't find the strenght to look at him, so you don't.

and kento is confused, did you really changed that much? do you hate him? are you with gojo or something? what has he done for you not to spare him a word?

"you're a liar, nanami, i just can't keep going after you like a lost puppy"-you tell him after he asks you in a whisper, because for fuck's sake! aren't you two friends? aren't you his only friend left?- "friends? since when?"- since highschool, duh- "no, we aren't. we never were. at least you never were my friend, and i'm no liar, kento nanami, i acted like a friend because i was so in love with you i needed to be that for you first"- was, huh?- "i was selfish, but not anymore, live your life and i will do the same"

he tells you that you're crazy if you think he's gonna just leave after that, does that "was" mean you don't feel anything anymore? or what is worse, does that mean you've been holding those feelings all these years and haven't told him anything?

well, you tried to, so many times, and he knows it, it's just that he was to busy fighting, and coping, and working, and stressing, and just being a walking dead man to tell you that the first time he saw you he knew that he would marry you one day.

so he tells you now, he tells you that he has some things to work with this itadori kid and then he'll take you out on a date.

and for the first time, kento nanami doesn't lie, and you end up all sweaty in his bed, daydreaming of going to sleep like this for the rest of your life.

but you know he sees him, when he looks at yuji, he sees yu, and he breaks down and cries and blames himself and tells you that that night you spent together was just an stress reliever.

oh, nanami, you liar!

it's late in the afternoon when gojo tells you not to worry, he's the strongest, everything is under control, but he needs you all in shibuya, just to take care of the curses, and your broken heart breaks a little bit more when you realize the chaos in the station.

so does kento's, he watches people die here and there and realizes that maybe (just maybe) he could die too, and there's no more "i'm gonna get her killed like i did with my best friend" when he admits that he is, in fact, a liar, and that sleeping in the same bed as you after opening his heart was everything he could hope to have in his life from now on if you accept his apologies.

"just let's finish this", he says, "just leave everything after, let's get married after this, okay?", he says, "we'll have our own place and a lot of kids and we'll read all of those stupid books a always buy"

"oh, nanami, you liar" you whisper at what's left of him, after mahito puts an end to your dreams. you're sure yuji is behind you, you're sure his hands are shaking your shoulders and his tears are falling on the top of your head; you just can't feel it. did mahito touch you too? did he just touch your heart? did he break it enough for you to stop feeling things? no, he didn't, he laughed at you when you were just behind your lover while he disappeared right there, sure, he laughed at you when the only words you said were "hey, hey, mahito, mahito, hey..." oh, you will never forget his smile. "hey, mahito, i didn't even get to say goodbye or something" the laugh that left his mouth was enough for you to stop feeling.

"a twisted curse, huh, gojo? tell me about it"

itadori blinks once or twice, looking at you, "love", you say "gojo said that love is the most twisted curse of all...he was damn right, look at me, what am i supposed to do now, huh? do i jump in front of the next train, do i wash all this blood? do i blame him for being a fucking liar?"

"we have to kill him"- he whispers- "then we think about the future"

and you laugh through your tears and on your knees, and touching kento's knees, and looking at his shoes.

"it's fine, yuji, everything will be fine, i just wanna cry him a little, yeah?" you say "go before me, he asked you to take it from here, didn't he?"

and you watch the boy running after noding at you, and you promise him that you'll go right after.

"i'll be fine, you know? because i hate you" you spit the words at the corpse next to you "how can you make it so easy, i sweat everytime i lie, how can you be such a good liar? i hate you" cleaning the sweat off your hands on your jeans you take a deep breath.

"see? i can't do it yet"

[aeondeug]

Ok so I made a post about why I didn’t like Gideon initially and I’ve talked to others about it. And I’ve seen a lot of people having the reverse experience. Which is cool, I think. And one I’m not surprised by if I think about how the two characters are introduced initially. Like, maybe Gideon’s humor is dumb but also she’s not the one being like “Oh man, it is time to systematically destroy this woman’s hopes that she has finally done it and escaped from me and my hell planet,” at the start of the book. Harrow is though. Harrow’s intro is very...Harrow. It’s very fitting for what is learned about her later on.

Anyway. I feel a desire to like. Write about the other half of this equation. And why it was that I instantly latched onto Harrow so hard. So like I said in the first post. Harrow’s got STYLE. She’s got like bone jewelry and wears all black and has skull face paint. She uses her own blood as ink for her fountain pen (it being a fountain pen matters) and she gets said blood by stabbing herself in the cheek. Also she’s a necromancer, which is just icing on the cake. Harrow’s entire fashion statement appeals to me as someone raised by a goth who ended up like...Never goth fashion or subculture wise, but someone who was a kid that Dreamed of being goth fashion wise. Alas, I went to a boring uniform school and also was too nervous of such things.

Harrow just LOOKS cool. Harrow is the sort of person that a dumb 13 year old me would have found the coolest and have viewed as like. An Aspiration. Even though she’s kind of a dumbass and also a dick. I was an edgelord of a kid and an edgelord who knew who Bauhaus were before I could read.

So Harrow’s instantly got fashion on her side. And she’s got her attitude. Which is also important. She does things for style and looks. The narration, which is from Gideon’s perspective, describes the fountain pen filling thing as “one of Harrow’s favorite party tricks”, I believe is the quote. When asked about why there are suddenly skulls all over their room her sole answer to this question is “Ambiance”. And she clearly cares about how she looks. Her paint is often described and a point is made that Gideon’s is not as well put on hers. Also? Her outfit? She’s got like. The bone wrist circlet thingies and her bone studs and her bone choker and the fucking bone chest thing that I am forgetting the word for right now. Harrow cares about appearances.

Which also shows in like...She makes a good show of how well read she is. Takes pride in that fact not just privately, but lets people know it. She runs off and tries to stubbornly do a puzzle on her own. The thing to wake her up from her near death stupor from failing in that is something insinuating they are better than her. And she’s still half dying but takes the time to state that, no, SHE is the best necromancer. Harrow’s got an ego and that shows from early on. Through things like how she dresses, how she talks, how she treats Gideon...

And I saw that and I just kind of instantly latched on. While reading early in the book and seeing her do a bitchy thing, I once joked that “Has anyone ever hugged Harrow?” and then jokingly decided that “No. No one’s hugged Harrow before.” This was a joke that I had made as someone with a rather neglectful family in several respects. And as someone whose general well being in their home was decided by how good I appeared in comparison to the other kids. In that sort of situation, not having much else, I took great pride in my being well read. In being Smart. This eventually made me insufferable as hell and that was crushed into the dirt. Either way, depressing story time aside. I made a joke that indicated that, early on, I had pegged Harrow as someone similarly neglected. As someone with a similar lack of anything going on.

Turns out I was right. Her situation’s very different from my own because of course it is. This is a book about space necromancers, after all. But she was a neglected child. One who had to grow up far too fast and who had a very strict and overbearing religious upbringing. Does that sort of thing cause that sort of concern for aesthetics and bitchery? I dunno. But I made a guess, as a joke, and the guess appeared to be right.

Another thing that I made a bet on with this early on was like...The nature of the relationship. They are the only two of their generation on that planet. Gideon is made out immediately to be like an indentured servant of the family. While Harrow is immediately revealed to be a high status fancy nun queen with a fancy title. Harrow’s parents are dead by that point and had been dead for a while. But, I knew, that theoretically they were not dead at some point. A point which Gideon had to be old enough to remember, given some of the comments made. Based on their antagonism towards one another and this set up...

A part of me wondered if like they had in fact had like a Favorite and Unfavorite dynamic as kids. Or I guess not actively wondered but like. The thought was in mind. Because I had grown up as The Favorite in a terrible home which had an Unfavorite. And this makes you a terrible person as a kid. So I saw these very small signs at the start of a book which hides most of the cool Harrow facts and interactions in its latter sections. And was like, on some level like, “Ah. You’re a bitch to her because you’re The Favorite. In part.”

I am kind of always looking for abused and neglected Favorites in fiction. One of my favorite characters is Azula. And I’m very fond of Gamora. I have a tendency to find them and latch onto them because like...I am still working through things. A lot of things. Sometimes seeing it in the things I read makes the stuff I am working through less terrifying. Sometimes it gives me a sense of hope. Either way, seeing a thing that is at least somewhat similar helps. And I look out for it. And Harrow apparently just gave off. The Aura. From the very start.

Because lo and behold, she was neglected as fuck and, indeed, the Favorite while Gideon was an Unfavorite so unfavorited that she was viewed as basically cursed and horrifying. And then Harrow was a mean bastard of a child towards her. And then it turns out that Harrow has like 10,000 weird guilt issues. Some of which involve her treatment of Gideon now because...How on earth could you even like her when you grew up with her? Like. How.

But even before those reveals later on...I had been making my guesses. Enough so that one of my earlier jokes about the book was about how no one ever hugged Harrow and how she is out doing this shit for some sense of fucking acknowledgement for once. Because maybe if you’re acknowledged that like...Will count. As your Actual True Affection quota for the day. Harrow was not just stylish and mysterious. She also had little bits and bobs, either that she revealed herself in her few appearances in the early portion of GtN or which were revealed by way of how Gideon talks about her and acts about her, which hinted towards the basic idea of what Harrow’s deal even was.

I did not guess the exact specifics of Harrow’s deal because who the hell could divine that from the first act of the first book. But I did guess at the core idea laying behind the specifics of that deal. And the deal was that she was the neglected but favored child in a really shitty home, who has ended up with an ungodly amount of guilt issues for her behavior and general existence. And it made her mean, guarded, and protective of her image and it gave her an ego sky high. Which you can all see in the first portion of the book to an extent. Even though she is very scarce in said first portion. Which I think is either a tantalizing mystery of “What the fuck is even your problem, Harrow?” or like just enough info in just the right way for people with a similar experience to go “lol no one hugged you when you were a kid” with a knowing prescience.

[somethinginthethunder]

could you write friends to lovers goshiki x reader where he PINES AND PINES AND HE FEELS LIKE EVERYTHING IS HOPELESS AND THEN... kith. reader gives him a big fat kith kith (... tongue ? 😳) hehehehe... pls. he's so cute.

Author’s Note: Hi hi hi! Thank you for being patient!! AND THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING BC WRITING THIS GAVE ME LIFE. Ah, and apologies if it’s not what you wanted and/or any of the characters are ooc! I’ve never quite written for Goshiki before! Thank you <3

Shares and feedback are appreciated!

Word count: 2,089

Summary: Goshiki has been pining after you for years, but the more he thinks about it, the more hopeless he becomes.

Warnings?: uhhh i don’t think so?

---

“Goshiki.”

Said boy turned his head, pressing his lips together. 

“Y-Yes?” he shouted in response.

Ushijima handed him the ball, stepping toward him with an unbothered look in his eyes.

“Pay attention,” was all he said before resuming his own practice.

“Y-Yes, sir!” Goshiki responded, bowing in apology.

Damn, he thought. He shouldn’t have been so distracted.

But you were just there, stopping by the gym to greet your friend. You had waved your hand to him and called out, “Tsutomu!!” before moving on to get back to what you were originally doing.

Even just hearing his name from your lips took him out of the world. It was frustrating how you had him wrapped around your finger. But, then again, it made his heart flutter, too.

“What’s this?” Tendou hummed. “Looks like Tsutomu has hearts in his eyes!” 

“H-Heart... eyes?” he squeaked, almost dropping his recently returned ball.

Ohira turned his head. “It’s nice that you have a crush on L/n, but don’t let it take away from your playing, Goshiki.”

The bowl-cut brat didn’t respond, sighing under his breath in frustration. He didn’t even bothering trying to deny his feelings this time. 

They were right. He got distracted way too easily.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Y/n-san!” 

Both you and Goshiki blinked at the newcomer who had so suddenly interrupted your conversation.

“Yes?” you murmured, leaning back in your seat.

He looked very nervous. His hands were behind his back, yet you could still tell they were shaking.

“I- I like you!” he confessed quite loudly. 

The rest of the class went silent as they realized what was happening, pausing their conversations to look right at you.

The boy who supposedly had a crush on you presented you with a letter, sweating nervously for your next move. 

Beside you, Goshiki was trying not to show his jealousy and irritation. He gripped the end of his shirt and furrowed his brows as he watched you, afraid you might accept and/or reciprocate his feelings. Who did he think he was, just walking up to you like that?

Oh, but God, he wished he had those kinds of guts.

His heart began to tighten when he saw you take the letter, setting it in your lap and inspecting its quality. For some reason, though, you did not open it. Nor did you seem interested in doing so.

“Ah,” you said. “That’s very kind of you,” you smiled. “However, as I do not know you and do not want to lead you on, I’ll have to admit that I do not quite return your feelings. Thank you, though.”

Your confessor noticeably looked disappointed and embarrassed, nodding in response.

“Of course! Thank you!” he declared, hastily walking out of the room. 

Your eyes momentarily followed his retreating form, humming to yourself. How strange. That was the second time this week.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit blunt with them, Y/n?” Goshiki murmured, finishing the last bite of his popsicle.

He didn’t care much about how she was rejecting her admirers as long as she was rejecting them (selfish, perhaps?). However, this did instill a fear into him that she would react just as bluntly if she ever was told about his feelings for her. This also added onto the risk of losing their long-lasting friendship, which was one of the things he cherished most.

You laughed, which surprised him greatly. “I don’t know what he was expecting! I hardly knew him, and I don’t have time to go on dates that most likely won’t be worth my time since, y’know, I didn’t like him in the first place,” you said, your voice calming down. “Besides, he didn’t really know me either. He probably just thinks I looked cool during my games and liked the idea of me instead.”

“B-But you don’t just look cool! You are cool!” the raven-haired boy retorted. Jumping slightly at his outburst, you raised a brow in doubtfulness. “I mean, you’re one of the strongest girls on the volleyball team, you’re super smart, know how to read people super well, and even got in a good word from Ushijima-san! You’re one of the coolest people I know!”

His words had taken you aback, heat rising in your cheeks and a laugh bubbling softly within you.

“That’s sweet, Tsutomu. Thank you. But nonetheless,” you resumed walking away from him and to the girl’s dorms. “The odds still weren’t in his favor.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Goshiki could remember the first time he realized he liked you. Back then it was just a tiny crush. 

“C’mon, Tsutomuuu! How are you going to be an all-star ace if you can’t even match my spikes?” you whined, sitting next to the taller kid.

He was in a mood, grumbling to himself as he just couldn’t seem to get into the groove of playing today. You had both agreed to practice spiking with each other and a couple of other friends after school got out.

Noticing this, you placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned forward to grasp his attention. It was almost too close for his standards (but we all know he really didn’t mind).

“Oi,” you said. “You better not start giving up today just because you’re frustrated,” you scolded, talking down on him.

“Wha?” he asked, scrunching his nose to look at you, trying to hide the blush rising to his cheeks as you inched your face closer.

“You know what’s worse than failing even after you tried your hardest?” you continued, ignoring the looks your got from the rest of the kids. “Giving up before the game’s even ended!!” you shouted, patting his back firmly, receiving a soft ‘ow’ from Goshiki.

 “So stop sitting on the ground like the loser you aren’t and come try and beat me!”

You stood up, wiping the dust from your legs and offering him your hand. He cocked his head to the side like he was trying to figure you out before letting a smile spread onto his face. 

And suddenly, just by your words, he was on top of the world again. But it hit different this time. Because for the first time since he met you, butterflies began to form in his stomach.

☆ ☆ ☆

The more he thought about how great you were and how much he’s pined after you, the more he’d get discouraged.

You just seemed so out of his league and uninterested in having a romantic connection with anyone. Why would you ever consider giving him a chance?

“Tsutomu?” you said softly, waving your hand in front of your best friend’s face.

“Sorry, sorry!” he apologized, snapping out of it. “What were you saying?”

You laughed at his spaced out moment, leaning back against the tree you both sat by.

“Since I’ve been having a few more confessions than usual, I was wondering if you were going to try your luck on any girls, yourself,” you said, repeating your statement.

Goshiki’s face turned red for a second. “Oh,” he murmured. He already knew the answer to this question, yet still acting as though he had to think about it.

Pursing his lips, he said, “Well… I do like this one girl.” He hesitated, noticing your eyebrow raise in the periphery of his vision. “But I don’t think she likes me back.”

“Whaaat?” you sighed, leaning forward and resting your hands on your legs. You seemed very captivated by his admittance.

“There’s no way she doesn’t like you back! You’re a pretty cool guy!” you added, your brows knitting together.

“Ah, trust me,” he laughed lightly, scratching the back of his head. “She’s really cool. Out of my league, actually. I’ve liked her for awhile, too, but after all these years, I just don’t think she’s ever gonna like me back. Everyday when I see her, I pinch myself just to make sure I’m not dreaming. If I could just get to her level…” he trailed off, looking down at his hands.

You both stayed like that for quite some time. In fact, none of you said anything. This made him nervous. Oh, no, did you think he was weird now? Did you figure him out and now hate him? Why were you being so quiet?

“Tsutomu,” you finally said, your voice oddly emotionless.

He tensed slightly at the sound of your voice, preparing himself for whatever was going to happen next.

“Wh- huh?!” he cut himself off, taken by surprise when your hands began to hold his face.

For a fraction of a second he could see the soft smile on your face and the look in your eyes before you leaned forward and kissed him.

His brain stopped and his heart felt like there were fireworks going off inside. Panicked and confused, his hands shot up to yours, but he didn’t pry them away from his face. Instead, he rested them on top of yours, allowing you to press him up against the tree as he finally realized what was going on.

You were kissing him. 

Deciding that he couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste, he made the bold move of incorporating his tongue, which you gladly obliged. It was much less a battle of strength and more of an exploration of each other.

It was surreal being able to kiss you for the first time. The world was suddenly gone, and it was just the two of you. Nobody else in the entire world existed. Just you and him.

When you (unfortunately had to) pull away, you didn’t move from your spot.

Goshiki finally noticed that he was the one pressed against the tree, with you between him as you both held each other. His face was on fire, and his mind was racing so fast that he could barely remember his name.

“H-How did you know it was you?” he asked breathily, forgetting to breathe when you intertwined your fingers with his and brought them down from his face.

Again with that damn smile, you leaned back to get a better look at him. 

“I had a suspicion, but I didn’t act on it until you talked about the pinching thing,” you admitted.

“Wait, you noticed that? I thought you couldn’t see me doing it!” he replied.

“It was a bit noticeable after a couple of times. I didn’t exactly piece together that it was you pinching yourself, but when you told about how you did it everytime you saw the supposed ‘girl’, I put two and two together,” you answered, letting your thumb glide over his palm.

“Oh…” he murmured, his shoulders relaxing, though the blush on his face certainly didn’t. “Does this mean… you like me too?”

“Well, duh, silly! Why would I have my first kiss with you if I didn’t?” you chuckled, amused by his question. Though, of course, you couldn’t blame him.

“Ah, alright!” he said. He was nervous, but pumped up at the same time.

The two of you stood there in that position. It was almost as if you two were waiting for something.

“Alright, come on. It’s getting late and practice starts early tomorrow,” you said, releasing his hands and pressing a soft kiss to his nose before standing up (Lord help him, you just made him a hundred times softer for you). “Let’s measure our jumping heights tomorrow. Bet you can’t beat me,” you grinned, offering him your hand just like you did all those years ago.

“H-Hey! I’m the taller one, here!” he objected, attempting to shake off the light feeling in his stomach. He took your hand and pulled himself up. 

“So?” you countered. It sounded as if there were two meanings to the question, but you wouldn’t confirm, stuffing your hands in your pockets and gesturing for him to start the walk back home with you.

He caught on to your inquiry, stepping forward before stopping himself.

“Y/n!” he said confidently (though, in reality, he was more nervous than ever). He clutched his hands into fists.

Stopping in your place just a few feet ahead of him, you turned around. “Yeah?” you hummed.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” he asked, almost shouting his offer. If he were any louder, the neigboring buildings might’ve had a chance to hear him.

You blinked at his question, your chest tightening and face heating up. Your surprise only lasted for a fraction of a second before you put your hands on your hips and gave him his answer.

“I would!”

---

☆taglist ☆

@shou-kunn @warmbearhugs

disclaimer: i would like to clarify that when goshiki is pinching himself, it isn’t enough to seriously harm himself at all!! i would not recommend it! it’s just enough to receive a response, and he most certainly doesn’t do it every time he sees you!

[airi-p4]

Who’s the father?

I got this silly idea and I had to write it :S Silly, comedy, crack (?) and fluff (?) - and Lukanette endgame, of course. 

AO3

__________________________________

Luka didn't expect to find Adrien Agreste in the hotel room he had been summoned by Marinette. ‘I need to tell you something important’ his wife had messaged him. But why was her ‘just a friend’ Adrien Agreste there too?

Luka greeted Adrien, confused, as he took a seat and looked for Marinette in the vast suite of Chloe’s father’s hotel. She came out of the toilet and turned to face them.

“Luka, you’ve arrived. Now that we’re all here, I have to tell you something…”

Luka gulped, nervous, expectant. Something about this situation felt very wrong, but he couldn’t place what yet. Then Marinette reached her pocket and took a device out of it, showing it to the men before dropping THE BOMB:

“I’m pregnant”

Joy should have been in Luka’s mind after the notice- but that wasn’t the case. FEAR was all he had in his body. ‘Pregnant? Awesome!’ But then again… Why was Adrien Agreste there...? Did that mean Luka wasn’t the father? Or that she didn't know? They’ve been dating for a few years, didn’t they? Heck! They were MARRIED! Then why? Was she cheating on him? He internally asked.

“Am I the father?” Adrien asked, and Luka was SHOCKED. It felt like cold water falling over him. Out of nowhere, more questions joined Adrien’s. “Or I am?” a red haired boy appeared in the room. “Maybe me?” the robot creator said, “Or me?” Kim added. Luka couldn’t believe his eyes. What was going on? Where did all those people come from? And why were they claiming Marinette’s child fatherhood. He was her husband! Shouldn’t he be THE ONLY possible candidate there?

“Is it mine, Marinette?”, “Or mine?” two new voices joined. ‘NINO!? IVAN!? This is so wrong!’

“It can only be from the coolest, and that’s me!” another man appeared in the room, and it scandalized Luka.

‘Oh no, not XY! This has to be a nightmare. Marinette what’s going on?’

“Marinette” Luka finally said, getting closer and holding her arms. He took a deep breath, trying to keep him calm, and gulped. “I am the father, right...?” he finally asked in a threat of a voice close to her ear.

Marinette’s gaze lowered and she chewed her lower lip to finally spill some tears and cover her face with her hands. ‘It can’t be…’ Luka feared the worst.

“WHO’S THE FATHEEEER!?” he screamed in despair.

__________________________

Luka woke up covered by cold sweat, and panting, shouting loudly the last sentence he pronounced in his dream.

“See? He’s ok. He only passed out of the shock. Welcome back, Luka”

Luka, still numb, turned his head towards the owner of that voice: Juleka, his twin sister. Who was she talking to? Juleka signaled to her left and there she was: Marinette, with a worried look on her face.

“Marinette! What happened?” he finally asked, wiping the cold sweat off his forehead.

“You passed out of the shock. Gosh, you’re hilarious! Next time don’t startle your wife like this. She was worried about you” Juleka said, adding a low “Lucky bastard…” and an elbow hit at his ribs at the end.

Luka blinked at Marinette. ‘Wife’ she had said. ‘At least the wife part is true!’ he sighed, relieved. ‘Of course it had to be! What was he thinking about?’ Realization hit him. “Wait- I passed out? Why did I pass out?”

Juleka made a ‘I told you’ gesture to Marinette, and the blushing woman took something out of her pocket: a positive pregnancy test.

His reaction wasn’t not what she had expected, but ‘at least he hasn’t passed out this time’. She sighed relieved, despite her concern and nervosity, expectant for his reaction.

Luka’s mouth fell to the floor and his eyes had never been so opened. ‘What?’ He quickly shook his head and pinched his arm (in case he was still dreaming- which wasn’t the case anymore) and grabbed Marinette’s shoulders first, and then moved his hands to cup her cheeks, staring at her sapphire blue eyes. Marinette jolted at his sudden touch.

“Marinette” he gulped. “Who’s the father?”

An awkward silence followed his question. Marinette was offended, and so showed her face, and Juleka was both rolling her eyes in disappointment and ready to grab some popcorn and enjoy the show to come.

“Are you making fun of me? Because this isn’t funny!” ‘Oh no, she sounds ANGRY’ Luka realized. “It’s obviously you, dummy!” she said.

“No Adrien, no tomato boy, no Kim, or Max or Nino- And please no XY?”

“What-!? NO! HELL NO! What are you talking about? Are you still asleep?” Marinette’s eyebrows frowned, and if she was already offended and angry, now she was also disgusted. “What’s wrong with you? Is this you denying the idea of being a father? If you hate it so much I can-”

“NO! NO NO NO! Marinette, NO! That’s not it! I just had a horrible nightmare and-” she frowned again- she thought he was just thinking of a silly excuse. Oh no. “Marinette. I love you and it would make me the happiest to become the father of your children. Trust me, please” he begged, trying to kiss Marinette on her lips, only to find it rejected. “I was just not expecting that. I’m shocked. You have to believe me, please!”

Marinette finally loosen up at her boyfriend’s desperate begging. She trusted him, after all. And she knew well enough he sometimes short-circuited, like the first time she had kissed him or when she had finally confessed to him after gathering the courage. Marinette giggled at the far memory.

“Luka. We’re going to have a baby. You and me. Me and you. We’re going to be a family of 3 soon!”

“Marinette, Oh my lord! We’re going to be parents! You’re going to be the best mother in the world and I’m going to be a fath-” he paused. “I’ll give it my all to be the best father I can”

Marientte blinked at his sudden change of attitude: from joyful to serious. “Are you ok? Do you need more time to process this? We can still think-”

“No, Marinette. That’s not it. It’s just… I’ve never had a father, you know? I became a little worried, that’s all. But I promise I’ll try to be the best father this child- our child- could ever have. I love you, Marinette. You make me so happy...” he fell into her arms, his joy palpable in the way he hugged her. And Marinette could finally breathe again, relieved and expectant of the new future awaiting for them.

“Oh, Luka! I love you too” she said, moving to eagerly kiss him.

That was Juleka’s curfew to leave the room, dragging her mother- who had been eavesdropping at the door- along and giving the couple some intimacy to process their future to come.

________________________________________

The parenthood news kept swirling in Luka’s mind. ‘Father’. The word alone frightened him. ‘Could he be a good father when he had no paternal figure all his life?’ Maybe it was time to ask her mother about his roots.

“Mom. Who’s our father” Luka asked after dinner at the Liberty’s deck, to Juleka’s surprise.

“Oh. I wondered when this time would come… It took you longer than expected to ask, son” Anarka said, finishing the last bit of her fruit salad. “Why now? If you’re scared of being a bad father like Gabriel Agreste then you shouldn’t worry, because-”

“No, that’s not it, mom. I never needed a father because you two were enough for me. But if I’m going to be a father, I need to be aware of possible genetic transmitted diseases or other possible alterations my child could inherit” Luka explained.

“I see. You’ll be a good father, Luka. I guess it’s time I tell you about him then...”

Juleka remained silent, just listened, curious, but also scared. She never had the courage to ask about their father in case it made her mother sad or angry, or whatever, despite wanting to know for a long time.

“When I was born it was a stormy day-” Anarka started.

“Mom. Straight to the point, please. Marinette and I have an appointment with the Doctor in less than two hours”, Luka rushed her, knowing she could be talking for hours otherwise.

“Ok, straight to the point, then” she pouted a little in a childish manner. Then she took a deep breath and gave them her answer. “I don’t know”

“Wait, what!?” The twins asked in unison.

“I don’t know, that’s it” she shrugged.

Juleka and Luka were staring at each other and looking for traces of joking in their mother's face. But nothing. She really didn’t know.

“You can’t be serious. Was it a stranger? Someone you don’t know?” Anarka denied it with her head. “You should have an idea then!”

“There are three possibilities…” she tilted her head in a remembering gesture.

“Oh, no. This is reminding me of Mamma Mia...” Juleka rolled her eyes, making Anarka chuckle a little at the comparison.

“Ok, tell us. I still want to know. “Luka demanded. “You want to know too, right?” he added, turning to Juleka, who nodded in agreement.

Anarka raised her arms, disarmed in front of her dearest children. “Ok, ok. I get it…. This is going to be surprising... “

“Just tell us! Do we know them?” Luka asked.

“You do” Anarka nodded. “First is… Agent Roger”

“AGENT ROGER!?” the twins yelled in panic, exchanging panicked looks.

“Oh no, mom! What were you thinking!?” Juleka asked.

“I wasn’t thinking, that’s the problem! We were drunk, I was in prison, he was on watch. It just happened, and swore to forget it and never bring it up again”

“We may have a sister, then? Sabrina…”

“Impossible! it has to be someone else…” Juleka refused to believe. She still was her number one enemy- Chloe’s- best friend, after all. “Who else, mom?”

“Bob Roth…” she bluntly stated.

Luka’s face turned blue in horror for the idea. Juleka turned as pale as a ghost in disgust.

“Oh, no! Not him! Just- NO! What’s wrong with you, mom!? I can’t stand either him or his son! And the sole image of having XY as a half-brother…? ABSOLUTELY NO” Luka said in denial.

“Well, it’s not like I’m fond of that, lad… Mistakes happen, even I make them” she shrugged.

“That’s not what I would call a mistake… this- is something beyond a mistake…” Juleka mumbled, gaining Luka’s energetic nod in approval.  

Anarka shrugged again. “Past is past. And what’s done is done. There’s no point in lamenting now, anyway. Not after 24 years…” Luka and Juleka kept their disgusted faces on, so Anarka decided to move on with the candidates. “Anyway, the last one is the most likely candidate…” she paused.

“Who is it, mom?” the twins demanded.

“Is… Jagged” she finally said.

“Jagged...? As Jagged Stone!?” Juleka blinked.

“Are you sure, mom!?” Luka stood up, palms still on the table.

“He’s the most likely, yes”

‘Was that a blush on his mother’s face!? And a faint smile?’ Luka thought, with mixed feelings.

“Jagged Stone and I played together for a while. We were comfortable with each other and sometimes it happened. You know- excitement and adrenaline from the shows, alcohol, emotions while composing…” Anarka was smiling at her memories, while Luka and Juleka thought they had heard enough.

“I don’t know what to say...” Luka sat back down. “Jagged seems like the best option out there but still…” Luka sighed. “Could we get a test done?”

“If you manage to get a hair, or saliva, or skin, or anything with DNA then yes, I guess it can be done” Anarka’s words sounded more like a challenge than anything, and it set Luka’s determination up, and Juleka launched a knowing glare towards her mother. She had always been good at manipulating her son.

“We’ll do it!” Luka yelled, rushing to meet with his wife.

_______________________________________________________

It wasn’t easy, but the twins finally managed to get the DNA needed for the test (with Marinette’s help, of course). They collected some of Sabrina’s and XY’s hair (easiest choices since their parents were bald) and Marientte managed to get Jagged’s hair too.

Luka took them to the laboratory to get the DNA test done. ‘For my girls’ he thought, delighted about finding out they were going to have a daughter after their last visit with the Doctor. Oh, and he planned to spoil her so much! He would daydream and grin at the thought, hugging his wife’s belly in joy.

Finally, some days later, the test results arrived at the Liberty. Anarka had the letter on her hand, while Juleka, Rose, Marinette and Luka gathered to hear its content. Anarka ripped the sealed envelope and carefully unfolded the letter and proceeded to read it. He stared at the note, in silence, re-reading it and making faces. She was testing their patience and Luka’s nervousness peaked.

“I see… that’s it then...” Anarka mumbled.

“WHO’S THE FATHER!?” Everyone present yelled in demand.

Anarka smirked teasingly at their reactions- just as she wanted.

“Mom please!” Luka begged.

She was tempted to say Bob Roth just to tease them, but it seemed too cruel to her children to even joke about it, so she opted to tell them the truth.

“It’s Jagged”

Luka sighed in relief, as well as the rest of the family. Marinette caressed his arm a little, before he stood up and took the test results out of his mother’s hands to read it from himself. Not that he didn’t trust his mother but with Anarka, you never know. Juleka approached to read its contents too.

Sabrina - Not a sibling. Xavier Yves - Not a sibling. Jagged Stone - 99,9% Positive

Luka was relieved to finally know (mostly because the results discarded the worst two possibilities). Later, Marinette contacted uncle Jagged to let him know the news. After some dramatic performance, the rock star cried tears of joy from the discovery of having children (and grandchildren soon!).

And maybe it wasn’t what Luka expected (what was he supposed to expect, anyway?) but the idea of having a father didn’t feel as bad anymore.

From then on, Jagged, Penny and their newborn son became part of the Couffaine family, and Luka kept his promise to Marinette to be the best father in the world, and he spoiled his daughter (and her siblings) with everything he got.

He was the father, after all.

[sunset-novice-writer]

May I request married to Aziawa headcanons?🥺👉🏾🦋

Thank you so much for this first head canon request @dr1ppyk9!! I never thought that I would actually get one of this, but hope you enjoy these. You guys should go check out her blog it’s really good, and they are really nice. 😊😀

I want to give a shout out to my editor for their help @whisperwastes, and  wanted to give credit where it is due for betaing as well. Still, if you guys see anything I need to fix let me know. Stay awesome everyone!!

Now on to King of Sleeping bags, and the first Cat Daddy ( Ihave no idea I why I put that in here. >~< ^ ^;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                Married to Aizawa Shouta HCS

Married Life as Aizawa’s Waifu/ Husbando Includes:

I would expect a lazy cuddle session with this man especially if you're a spouse.He loves these after tough days from his Hero work,and teaching the next generation of heroes in the making. 

At the end of the day coming home to you to bask in a much deserved cuddly time is something he loves.You’re his favorite body pillow though he will tell you so with sleepy grumbles. This something that is intimate to be close to his spouse; this is very peaceful for him.

 The thought of being wrapped up in  his significant other’s embrace is the epitome of soothing for him. I imagine he has some trauma from the situations that he deals with from Hero work, and nightmares that follow it. One of the things that I think it could be is the USJ incident with a gentle touch to wake Shouta up from the dreams.

In the mornings, he likes it when his spouse helps him with his eye drops, fussing over him about keeping up his morning routine to make sure he doesn’t strain his eyes during the day 

His spouse probably has to stop him from buying cats/cat themed things. 

He is a homebody and very rarely likes to go out for dates. If his spouse wants to go on a date, he’ll plan something for them to do at home or close to home. Things like making makeshift beds in the living room to binge a show or staying up late at night to camp out on the balcony and talk about your pasts and futures.

I was thinking about a future pet--I definitely think that a cat would be the best option for Aizawa and his spouse. Bonus points, if they are a huge cat lover like he is though it gives him reasons to get cat toys for the kitten.  If their s/o was allergic I do see them trying to find a hypoallergenic cat. Sphinx would be the choice of cat they’d get though there are problems for them to choose from.

In terms of affection, I don’t think he is much for PDA in public; he'd probably feel a bit awkward about it. I think if it’s his s/o he might be okay with a kiss on the cheek though he likes to keep things private between himself and his spouse.He is fine with holding hands out in public  though showering  affection is something I don’t see him doing.

He likes to keep himself as professional as possible in public, but he doesn’t mind his spouse kissing his cheek. He doesn’t mind if they run their hand down his back quickly, then he won’t put up much of a fuss

When Aizawa is  home with his spouse in a comfortable private setting with soft kisses every so often. Giving them hugs in the early hours of the morning is more his speed.

Married with Kids

He is a wonderful dad to his children and not to forget super protective to boot.(especially if he has a daughter don't why but I can see it more there.)When it comes to other people wanting to hold his kids he much rather not have to do that. if he can help it that is.He's a pretty much hands on dad all the way.

What can I say this man does his research if you're expecting a baby.Or planning to adopt one with him.Before your child even arrives he is looking through baby books galore--medical books, good child development and all that entails for you kids overall wellness.Aizawa will strive to be the world's best day for your little bundle of joy.

As for getting babysitters, Shouta will go with Hizashi and Kayama.Despite being a bit reluctant to do so though.Yet, he trusts them to look after them when he's not around.

If you need anything during this time he will surely be the one to get it for you.Always the supportive spouse during your pregnancy which is a given anyway.I totally see Aizawa doing all the housework chores, and cooking something nutritious for you too.In the beginning, it might be a bit of a mess though he'll probably be covered in something at the first time he does it.The sight might have his spouse finding it cute and attempt to stop giggles at the sight of it.

Anything that involves changing diapers,spit up, and messes in general when it comes to the baby he is chill.He helps with the clean up as well as helping make bottles before going about his day.Plus, he is really laid back when it comes to these sorts of things which good for his spouse.

When it comes to nap time it is something he is for all the way.Sometimes you can't resist taking some photos of the pair as they sleep peacefully together.It really is a sight to see how easily they fall asleep with their father with small baby cooing leaving their lips.

Instead of getting a baby carrying a sling, I think Aizawa would probably make one out of his capture weapon.If he goes out and about with his baby.I think this would fit if you all went out for family time too.

As for when his children gets bigger he is active in helping with their academics.Aizawa being a teacher will come in handy helping them with homework.He will probably offer some tutor sessions if their child needs some extra help in a certain class, and any in general.Purely, is there to help his child succeed he is there if they need any extra help.

If his child has a quirk he will help them to get a better grasp on mastering it.Probably will incorporate fitness into their routine to help stay active, and helps the get control on their quirk.If the child if quirkiness that wouldn't matter he would love them regardless of that fact.

Entering UA you can be your child and will have their skills down to a point there they are finely tuned. Aizawa will put some sense into your kid's head that they aren't above anyone else.Everyone is equal when it comes to the skills of their quirk.

Now, the big thing he will be super strict about is dating.He vents about how people’s intentions could be villainous towards his precious baby.I can see Shouta as a big intimidating lion when his daughter/son thinks about asking someone out.(protect yourself please...lol)All the little dirty thoughts they might be directing towards his child--well he doesn't like it.

His spouse caught him one time on top of a wooden stumps that connected the cable lines.Aizawa kept a keen eye during their child's date with their crush and frowned when he/she gave their crush a slight peck on the cheek.Silently, fuming at the sight that was his precious child.

He ended up almost getting caught out when you texted him.Aizawa had to make a stealthy get away before your child caught him. Still, he does get over this though your child to him will be his baby. For the most part, he is logical though does not like to think his kid will be a hormonal minx. 

As for the people around them he just knows their irrational beasts. I wanna say that he is not looking forward to talking about the birds and bees with you.I feel that you both will possibly be there to have that discussion if it ever comes up.Please pray you never break their heart unless you want Aizawa to give you a piece of his mind.

If his child ever gets married when they’re older he will be sure to walk them down the aisle. He might be glaring at his child’s soon to be wife/husband (Might be full blown if it’s Bakugou he just smirks at him as he mouths,”There my baby now, Mummy)I do see him getting emotional when he sees them for the first time in their wedding gown--or tuxedo. I feel like he would be good at hiding it just a smidge. (plus, correct me if I am wrong, lol) He would make sure to have the dance with his daughter or son after the party. 

His grandchild will think he is the coolest person ever wanting to hear all about his stories as a hero. Probably some embarrassing ones of their parents back when they were younger while probably going to get training, and help with school. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To all the Aizawa Shouta fans, I hope I did this man justice. If you feel I’m missing something let me know. I will probably update this with fixes though I could not be more grateful for getting a headcanon request. @dr1ppyk9 thank you very much for this. 😭😭 I hope you like this thanks for sending it in which it was a blast to write.😊😊😀

@whisperwastes, thanks for helping out with this I am truly grateful for the help you’ve given me.

[princessamericachavez]

I wanna write a long multi chapter fic about Jack and Shitty becoming friends but also I don’t have the mental bandwidth right now so instead I’m just gonna blurt out a long bulletpoint fic so bare with me

Okay so Shitty B. Knight arrives to Samwell hungry for life and friends and finally some fucking air to breathe and be himself away from his conservative family

And it is fucking great, okay? From the get go he finds that his loud left wing talk is welcomed here, he gets to joke around and be as weird as he wants and no one cares

He hits it off pretty quickly with nearly everyone in the team. Sure, Johnson is a little weird and keeps talking about this merely being the “prologue of someone else’s story” but what he’s really curious about is the quiet Canadian guy that barely talks to anyone

Now, Shitty knows about Jack Zimmermann. Obviously. You have to grow up under a rock to not know about Bad Bob and his kid.

He also knows what happened. It must be a sore subject.

Is that why he’s so quiet?

It’s not that Shitty makes Jack a project. Not really. It’s that Shitty has been in a place where he felt lonely and out of place before and it sucked ass. He wants to help.

So he tries. Constantly.

Because Shitty sees the spark hiding behind the ice cold facade. He sees the way Jack’s face lights up in the rink, how loud and youthfully he celebrates cellys, how protective of others he is in the ice.

That’s a guy he WANTS to be friends with.

Except he can’t. After every training, Jack shuts back up

“Hey, Jaques, wanna go grab a bite?” “Thanks but I should sleep. We got an early day tomorrow.”

“My man, Zimmermann, lets go to that fucking party across campus!” “I’d rather not.”

“Hey, let’s celebrate this fucking win!” “I was actually gonna watch the game tonight. There was a play there that keeps bothering me.”

Anything that isn’t hockey is an instant No from Jack but Shitty is too stubborn to give up.

“Hey, Jack, I was going to train a bit extra on Sunday. Care to join me? You could teach me some of those sick moves.” “Sure.”

VICTORY. Sort of. Working out extra with Jack is exhausting, physically and mentally because Shitty keeps trying to come up with jokes and keeping up 90% of the conversation.

It takes nearly a month until Jack agrees to grab a bite after their Sunday skate and Shitty is so fucking beat that he nearly falls asleep on his burger.

“Hey, Shits, nice ketchup mustache,” Jack chirps him suddenly. And it’s the smallest, dumbest possible thing but Shitty laughs a little too loud and Jacks shoulders seem to lose a bit of that perpetual tension he’s always carrying.

It gets better after that. Slowly, painstakingly, but Shitty finds himself enjoying Jack’s company more and more.

He’s a genuinely good bro. He listens, even when he’s just grunting along time Shitty’s monologues, and he asks questions that shows that he actually cares, every now and then. It’s odd, being taken seriously.

By the end of their first semester, Jack and Shitty are spending a lot of time together. Which is why he asks him to come to the art kids party where Larissa is going to be.

Who? “Brah, Larissa Duan? Just the coolest fucking chick ever! I told you about her the other day, man. She said we should come over to this thing and I would go, but I know shit about art and I would rather not go along and bring my best fucking bro with me.”

After the word vomit he worries that maybe he pushed too far, judging by the way Jack freezes and stares at him like a deer on headlights. But then Jack sighs and says “fine, I’ll go,” and Shitty whoops with excitement

The party goes better than Shitty could’ve ever dreamed. Larissa’s super chill energy seems to have an effect on Jack, who half an hour in is talking about photography with some other art kids and he even agrees to come grab a beer with him and Larissa afterwards.

Until, of-fucking-course, Jack goes into hockey-mode and asks Larissa if she would like to be their team manager. They need one and she seems good at organizing stuff.

“Brah!” “I think it would be cool” “wait, what” “I’ve been looking to do more stuff and you guys are dope. Would I get my own nickname?”

And Jack looks her with that seriousness that means he’s thinking about hockey and firmly says “Lardo” and she says “sweet” and Shitty corrects “swasome” and things are good.

Thing don’t stay good, because as chill as Shitty tries to be, life rarely stays chill.

After winter break, in the smothering tightness of his folks’ home, Shitty finds himself craving that weird and easy friendship with Jack.

Why he finds is a Hockey Robot. All Jack seems to do and talk about is how to get the team to the play-offs. He trains longer than anyone (more than Shitty can keep up with), and when he isn’t on the ice, he is thinking about hockey or talking about plays or or about eating more protein.

Shitty is angry. Not that he would tell anyone (except Lardo) because it’s really not his place (he knows about shorty family dynamics, no pun intended) but he’s mad because Jack’s folks seem to have done quite a fucking number on him over the break and it kills him to even think about it.

And then family weekend comes and Bad Bob himself shows up to Samwell with his beautiful wife and Shitty has to swallow down his anger because Jack wants them to go have diner together and it’s the first human interaction he’s had with Jack in a month so sure he’ll go.

Shitty is good at being nice and polite around people he dislikes. He hates doing it, but it’s like muscle he had to work on growing up.

Except, Bob and Alicia are nice. Like, fucking nice. Even for Canadian standards. They are sweet and funny and normal and keep reassuring Jack about their love and support every third sentence.

And still, Jack has that grim “thinking about the next game” look on his face the whole time.

Shitty is confused as fuck.

The game goes well and Jack is the happiest Shitty has ever seen him as he celebrates his goal in the ice. He even hugs Shitty and thanks him for his assist.

Three games later they are out of the playoffs and Jack shuts down everything and everyone around him.

Shitty tries. He knocks on his door at least twice a day to see if he wants to go over to the Haus to hang out with the team. He offers going out for burgers or a beer or both. He even enlists Lardo, hoping the team manager will be able to snap him out of it.

Jack leaves early for a Hockey Summer camp and doesn’t say goodbye but Shitty hears from Johnson that he also got dibs on a room at the Haus.

Jack actually texts Shitty during the summer. It shocks him so much that he has to double check his phone before replying.

The texts are just to comment on the NHL playoffs and finals, sporadic and robotic at times, but Shitty does his best to drag the conversations for as long as possible. Once the season is over, so are the texts.

Shitty assumes Jack must be pretty happy though since his old bro won the cup.

When fall comes, Shitty stumbles again into Jack’s hockey-robot mode. His intensity is nearly terrifying. He barely speaks out of practice, only leaves his room to go to lecture or the rink. Looks like he hasn’t been sleeping at all.

Shitty is worried. He’s hurt, too, because he misses the friendly Jack that had slowly started coming out of his shell, and he wonders if it’s going to be like this, back to square-one after every break, but most of all he’s worried about Jack.

Lardo tells him to give him space. She says she sometimes gets “on the zone” for an art project and can forget about the rest of the world. Shitty likes thinking of Jack as an artist, but he hates seeing him this unhappy. None of the old tricks work to cheer him up.

Then comes the first Kegster of the year. Two frogs, Hostler and Ransom, take over planing duties and the party is the biggest the Haus has ever seen.

It’s freaking dope.

And then, fucking Kent Parson fucking shows up asking about Jack.

Lardo and Shitty nearly have to drag him out of his room to greet his old best friend.

Jack is cold towards Pars, in a way Shitty has never seen before. He’s downright rude and mean in every comment, no matter how much Kent tries to joke around, and five minutes later Jack turns around and leaves him talking to himself.

He’s jealous, Shitty realizes, and he’s being petty and awful and he doesn’t know this Jack Zimmermann at all.

Shitty runs after Jack upstairs, maybe a little emboldened by the alcohol.

“Hey, brah, what the fuck was that?”

“Stay out of it, Shits.”

“Nah, man, that was weird as fuck.”

“Seriously, you don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Then tell me, man, I’m your fucking friend! Just talk to me!”

Jack slams his bedroom door on his face and Shitty deflates. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they are not friends after all.

The rest of the semester is tense. Shitty tries to focus on his classes, on the ice, on how fucking cool and pretty and funny Lardo is, on the parties and the rest of the team.

It just bothers him. He misses Jack. He’s still there but he’s been absent any time they aren’t in the rink. He’s still great and focused and nearly friendly in the ice, but anything else is like the fucking twilight zone.

It’s before a game that he finds Jack sitting outside Faber, curled into a ball and physically shaking.

Shitty thinks of the headlines about Jack OD’ing, thinks of his tension around his loving parents and his reaction to Kent Parson showing up. Anxiety. The word takes form in his head, clear and obvious and the relief of having an answer hits him so hard he wants to laugh.

Instead, he sits next to Jack, who stirs when he feels him by his side but actually seems to relax when he realizes it’s Shitty who found him like this. Jack lets out a breathy “I’m fine” and Shitty says “sure, brah, but I’m fucking nervous about tonight, mind if I sit here for a while?” And Jack shakes his head. So they sit, in uncharacteristic silence, until Jack’s breathing normalizes.

“Thanks, Shits. Could you not-“ “Don’t worry man, I ain’t saying fucking shit to anyone.” And Jack smiles for the first time in months.

By the end of the semester comes the Epikegster to end all the kegsters. Which means, of course, Shitty gets shitfaced.

Which is why he ends up stumbling drunkenly to his room in the middle of the night to grab another pair of sunglasses because who knows where the fuck his other two pairs went

And it’s why he doesn’t know how to react when he finds two linebackers throwing up on his bedroom floor

“Brah, what the fuck, get outta here!” He yells, trying to grab one of the guys and pull him out to the hallway.

Except, the guy is huge. And he is angry.

Shitty doesn’t know what hit him when someone throws him to the floor.

His brain thinks he’s been checked for a second but then he remembers he’s not in the ice.

The other guys, however, apparently don’t remember they aren’t on the field because the second dude tries to tackle Shitty just as he’s getting up and he barely has time to dodge before one gigant ducking foot goes through the bedroom wall

“Hey, man, what the fucking fuck?!”

Shitty tries to steady himself, increasingly accepting that he’s about to get into a fight he didn’t ask for. He has time to think it’s ironic that his first real fight in Samwell will be off-the-ice.

And then the bedroom door opens and in comes Jack Laurent Zimmermann in all of his gorgeous badass glory.

“Let’s all calm down, eh?”

Here’s the thing: it’s easy to forget how strong Jack is. Shitty is used to hanging out with Hockey Bros and it’s easy to forget that not everyone’s bro’s are big muscley athletes defying toxic masculinity standards one day at a time. But Jack, even when he doesn’t look that big, is one of the strongest people he’s met.

He remembers all this when Zimmermann grabs the two by their shirts and drags them out of the room and all the way downstairs.

Shitty stumbles after them, as Jack pulls them like they aren’t both huge masses of muscle and throws them out to the street.

By the time Shitty reaches the porch, a bunch of big as fuck guys are standing there, looking drunk and angry and ready for a fight.

So Shitty does the one thing that makes sense to him: he squares up next to Jack, ready to fight back to back with him.

Before they can get run over by fists, however, Jack reaches for the only emergency measure in the house: an old as balls fire extinguisher.

Two minutes later, the football bro’s are running away and Shitty is laughing so hard he collapses on the floor next to Jack.

Jack kneels next to him, with his serious hockey face on, puts a hand on Shitty’s shoulder and asks “you alright, Shits?”

Shitty nods, still laughing, and to his surprise Jack laughs too, sitting by his side on the floor. They sit there, chuckling, until the sound dies down and they both sigh at nearly the same time.

Whatever tension there was between them seems to have desipated with that clouth of dust of the fire extinguisher.

“Thanks for having my back, bro”

“Hey, you always have mine,” Jack shrugs. “What are best friends for?”

Shitty cries. Jack freaks out that he might have said the wrong thing. Shitty just hugs him and shouts about being the best bros.

That winter break Jack invites Shitty over to his house and Shitty accepts eagerly.

Bob and Alicia are sweet and happy to have him and keep saying how much Jack talks about Shitty and how thankful they are that Jack’s found so many good friends in Samwell and they’ve heard about Lardo and Hostler and Ransom and Johnson and Shitty most of all.

This time he manages not to cry.

At the end of the break, Jack and him are hanging out and Jack says “Hey, Shits, I’m not good at this but I wanted to say thanks, for not giving up on me when I was acting kinda weird.”

And Shitty just laughs and says “it’s alright man, I figured you have like hockey robot mode and then human mode.”

Jack makes a face. Shitty shrugs.

“I’ll take them both, brah.”

Jack doesn’t cry, because he’s Jack and even his human mode struggles with emotions, but he smiles and throws a snowball at Shitty’s face and that’s all he wanted really.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 22 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

~|Emily Fox|~

I think I might have hit rock bottom again. It’s been a year since I’ve found myself falling and falling deeper down this dark and empty hole of sadness and remorse. It’s been a pity party of one up in this house since Saturday and it’s now Thursday. Madison came around almost every day. She brought lasagna on Saturday, spent the night and then watched movies with Mitch and me on Sunday. On Monday, she came back after school to give me my homework, but knowing I probably wouldn’t do it, and the same happened on Tuesday and Wednesday. Today, the bell rings at 9 am while I’m still in bed, wrapped up in a blanket burrito. I can hear Madi’s voice, however, and all it does is make me wonder why she’s not in school. “I’m just worried about her, you know?” I hear Madi’s voice as her and Mitch make their way upstairs. “I don’t want her to fall further down to rock bottom the same way she was last year.” My uncle simply hums. “Yeah, I think it’s time for an intervention,” he says seconds before he knocks on my door and enters without my response. “Morning, Muffin.” I glare at him for his chirpiness. “It’s time, honey,” Madison tells me, her nose in my wardrobe. “Time for what? To cry? I think I’m behind schedule today,” I mean it as a joke, but neither of them takes it as one. “I don’t feel like doing anything, guys.” “You’ll feel so much better after a shower and putting on pretty clothes,” Madi replies, throwing me a couple of clothes. “Now, chop, chop! Into the shower!” I stay put, glaring at my best friend. Even though I know she’s trying to help me, it’s not really working. Getting up and being productive isn’t going to get me my audition back. “Come on, Muffin! We’re going to the mall for like an hour. Please, can you do that for me? Just an hour?” Mitch’s begging somehow makes me rise up from my bed and head into the shower. The hot water doesn’t help with the empty space in my heart, but it does help with the stank of four days lying in bed. With still wet hair, I get into the outfit Madison has given me and walk back out into my bedroom. Mitch and Madi both smile at me proudly like I’m a child walking for the first time. “I don’t feel like doing my hair or makeup,” I tell them, putting on some shoes. “You want us to do it for you?” Mitch asks carefully, but I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’ll probably cry and ruin it anyway.” Both of them pout before grabbing my hand and leading me downstairs and into the car. Uncle Mitch drives us to the nearest mall where we get to shopping straight away. Nothing seems to please me though. No item of clothing or accessory brings me any joy. My bank account is happy. At least that’s one of us. “What do you think of this?” Madi asks, showing off some really rad trousers. Black cargo trousers with white blocks running through it. “Those look cool. You should get them!” I encourage her, managing a tiny smile. “They’re for you,” she tells me, but I shake my head, looking through the rail of clothing. “I’m going to buy them for you anyway. I’m sure you’ll thank me later,” she says and walks off towards the register to pay for them. I watch Madi and Mitch interact for a moment. Their voices are hushed, and they’re too far away to eavesdrop. But the wide eyes and open mouths don’t predict anything good. “Everything okay?” I ask them once Madi has paid for the trousers and joined me again. Both of them push me out of the shop and into the next one, pulling and pushing me all around the place. “We’re fine!” Mitch replies, but I can tell he’s lying. “Just really excited to look here!” “Oh, look, Ems! These look cool! You always wanted those!” She pushes a jumpsuit into my hands and pushes me towards the changing rooms. Careful as she is, she pushes me into one and yanks the red curtain shut. What the hell is going on? “Madi, I really don’t feel like trying things on,” I say, reopening the curtains. “Just do it, babes,” she says, forcing me back inside. “Mads, this is a small. I can’t get my fat ass in there!” I tell her and shove the curtain open again. Madison looks behind her swiftly before exhaling and taking the jumpsuit away from me. “What’s going on, Mads?” “Nothing, babe! Just really excited about shopping!” I raise an eyebrow at her. I’m certain she’s lying to me, but I don’t know about what. Suddenly, Uncle Mitch joins us again. I hadn’t even noticed him gone. “Right, Mitch? Aren’t you excited about shopping?” “Yes! Very!” He claps his hands. “I hear there’s a sale in that shoe shop you love so much, Muffin. You want to go?” At least Uncle Mitch somewhat acts normal. Besides the vanishing. The two lead me to the shoe shop at the other side of the mall, which is busier than the side we were on previously. Must be the crazy sales.

Though every now and again, Madi and Mitch push me into dressing rooms quickly or change directions suddenly, the day actually feels decent. For the first time since Saturday, I actually feel as though my life has gone back to normal. Until I start thinking about my life and then it’s all over. I even started crying in the middle of a Claire’s, which wasn’t the prettiest sight. Madi and Mitch do spring into action immediately and bring me towards the ice cream parlor where we have several scoops of ice cream. “Thanks, guys,” I sniffle, “I know I haven’t been the easiest, but thank you for not giving up on me.” They both offer me a proud smile, and Madi even grabs my hand in hers. “We’re just glad you’re out of the house, Emsie,” she says. “Yeah, and we’re really proud of what you’ve accomplished today!” Mitch chimes in. “Aren’t you really happy with your new shoes?” I nod my head at Madi’s question. My new sneakers really are the coolest and most rad shoes I ever did see. “They’ll look great on your new pants!” Her smile widens when my lips curl up slightly. “I really like those new earrings you bought, Muffin! They’re very chic!” Mitch chimes in. “You know I’m all about the butterflies lately,” I tell him, already thinking about the cool outfit I’ll be able to put together with the shoes, the pants and the earrings. “Don’t forget that cool new jacket you found in that thrift store!” “I really wish they made those things in my size,” Mitch pouts, causing Madi and me to laugh. “There she is again!” She says excitedly. Her wide smile suddenly falters as she looks somewhere behind me. Before I can turn around to see what she’s seen, she grabs me by the hand and pulls me up. “I think we’ve done enough shopping for the day,” Mitch says, and grabs all of our bags before the three of us leave the mall. Once at home, Madi and Mitch seem to get back to their usual self; calmer and less anxious. “Show me your new outfit!” Madi shouts excitedly as we go upstairs to try everything we bought on again for a little fashion show. When we were younger, we always used to put up fashion shows with her or my mom’s heels. It was the funniest thing. “That looks so bomb!” She claps her hands excitedly, scanning up and down my body. I turn to look into the full-length mirror, and suddenly I’m taken back to our fashion shows back in the day. “Thanks for today, Mads,” I say instead of getting nostalgic about our past. “Anything for you, Emily.”

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