#I'm gonna have a FIELD DAY with this last chapter

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)

a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere. 

Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him. 

One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.

The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.

You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.

He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”

“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.

“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.” 

“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already. 

His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”

You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.

“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”

You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”

He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.

“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.

“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”

He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”

You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”

You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.

The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it. 

The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead. 

You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk. 

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.

“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”

“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”

“Yeah.”

“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”

“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.

“So definite no to hang out?” 

“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”

You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”

“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says. 

You glance at the time. 11:56am. 

“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.

You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.

“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”

You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.

“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”

You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.” 

She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”

You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.” 

She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”

You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”

Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”

Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest. 

“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.” 

You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.

But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings. 

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”

Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”

Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”

She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”

–

The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you. 

It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them. 

Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed. 

You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.  

“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”

You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately. 

Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.

“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible. 

You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.

There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.

Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.

“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”

Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before. 

“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks. 

“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”

There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.

“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks. 

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”

“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.

Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”

For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.

“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”

You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.” 

Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.

The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.

“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase. 

He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”

There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”

The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”

You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby. 

The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.

Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.

“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.

The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.

“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.

You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”

The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”

“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”

She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.

She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you. 

You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”

She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”

“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”

“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.

You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”

“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you. 

“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.

You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.

“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”

The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.

You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.

“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.

The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”

“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.

All three of you look at him dumbfounded. 

“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”

“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”

You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.

“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.

“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”

The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you. 

“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.

He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”

“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.

“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you. 

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.” 

Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”

He’s waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.

You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.

You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”

Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”

“But–” you start, stopping yourself. 

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.

“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long. 

“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”

He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”

“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.

He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?” His voice was low.

“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.”

Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.

“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.

He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

���Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.

You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing. 

This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before. 

“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.

“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.

“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.

You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”

“I will.” 

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door. 

It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously. 

When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“What?” you ask.

“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”

You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm. 

You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?” 

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

You turn around to face him. “Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”

He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”

“Your problem,” you say.

“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.

“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”

“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.

You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.

“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.

“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.

Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.

He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”

The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.

He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?” 

“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest. 

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.

It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.

“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”

“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”

“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.

He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”

He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands? 

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious. 

You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.

“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.

He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.

You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.

“Yours are just big,” you tell him. 

He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how. 

Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.

“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.

“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.

“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”

You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”

“Reasons.”

“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”

He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”

You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it. 

“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.

He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.

He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.

“Hey–”

“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.” 

“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.

“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”

When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters. 

“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”

“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.

You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly. 

He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”

You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.

He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.

You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.

“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.” 

You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.

It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.

You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been. 

You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.

“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”

“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”

He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”

You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”

He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”

You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.

“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly. 

“Mhm, makes sense.”

His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.

You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”

“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too. 

“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”

He nods. “You do.”

There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.

“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.

“Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”

“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”

“I asked him for it.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”

“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”

There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”

You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”

He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”

“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”

“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”

“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.

You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he’s looking at you. 

“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”

“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.

“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”

His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.” 

You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.

“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.

“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.

“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly. 

Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck. 

Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.

–

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.

Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.

You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.

The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area. 

It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.

Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”

You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.” 

You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.

“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.

Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.

“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.

Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”

All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.

“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”

With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.

“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.

You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”

“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?” 

“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.

He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”

“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.

He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says. 

You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”

“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.

“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.

“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.” 

You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”

He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”

You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”

“Yup.”

“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.

“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”

You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”

He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”

You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”

The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.

“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”

“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”

“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”

“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”

He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”

You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”

He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.” 

Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”

He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.

“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.

The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.

UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.

The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.

“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”

Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”

Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.

You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.

There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.

He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?” 

You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him. 

And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.

When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.

“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.

He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.

“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”

You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.

“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”

“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”

“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.

“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.

He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”

He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”

He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.

The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back. 

You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear. 

You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake. 

Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.

|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera

|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way

The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there

a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though. by the way! i'm starting a choso x reader zombie au series, if you'd like to read more about it and/or be added to the taglist, you can reply to this post here also if you want to be added to taglist in general, i'd recommend making sure your tags are on!! since i've noticed a lot of people have them off

➸ take me to chapter nine!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

[kiwiikato]

mommy’s here // ken sato x reader

Chapter Two

masterlist

the next day had came. the tv played showing a baseball game. the short elderly man known as professor sato rolled his chair forward toward the tv as is not played. the other person rolled their chair up to the tv with him, watching as they showed the popular athlete known as ken sato. he opened the can in his hand, all while passing you another one to enjoy as you watched the small screen in front of you.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

ken sato sat in the locker room on a chair, the lights were dim as he heard the voice of the commenter speaking. he stood up, a sharp look in his eyes, as he changed. his body moved towards the door that took him to the benches where his teammates sat down.

one of his teammates stood excited, almost jumping in his spot. "i can't believe it's my first game with ken sato-" "that's worth a lot on ebay, rook." he could only stare at the purple collector card that was placed into his hands as ken sato walked away, putting his helmet on his head.

a cocky smile graced his handsome features as he walked up to the coach of the team. "hey, come on, smile. i'm about to make you look really good." his voice was husky, laced with cockiness from his pride as he walked towards the field.

you stared at the tv that showed him run after taking a baseball bat that was given to him by a child waiting in the field for him. your eyes moved back at forth at the sight of him and the look of pride on professor sato's face.

you could see the smirk that covered his lips gradually turn into a look of frustration as he failed to hit the ball not once, but twice, causing him to only have one chance left before positions would switch.

the commenters voice spoke up. "bottom of the first, two strikes on Sato and he doesn't look happy. and now it looks like ken sato's going to try something new." you stared confused as he moved to the other side of the base. "he's gonna switch to batting right-handed. you know i've never seen this happen in the middle of an at-bat.

his eyes were focused on the ball. the pitcher from the opposing team shot the ball, making it do a curved turn. the tension of the game grew as you leaned forward on your seat from what could happen. before you knew it, ken sato's bat made contact with the ball, making it fly to the other side.

"and it's a grand slam!" the commenters voice spoke up as you and professor sato shot up from your seats and cheered for him. the excitement was short living as the room flashed red from the computers behind, signaling a kaiju alert. professor sato ran towards it, opening the kaiju tracker.

you ran towards the window and looked out, your eyes taking in the scene before you. "professor. i think you need to see this." he ran towards you, his eyes widening. "oh my god." KDF planes flew by the apartment building carrying a spherical object. your throat dried up as you recognized the kaiju that trailed behind it. it was here.

"y/n! go stop gigantron from attacking the citizens of japan! we need to help those that we can!" you firmly nodded in response as you opened the window of the apartment room that you were in. you didn't dare look down as you jumped out with a dive. your body morphed, changing into your version of the ultraman suit.

you ran past the buildings, rushing towards the baseball field. your eyes landed on the crashed planes that laid in piles of fire as gigantron walked away. your eyes landed on ultraman who had created a shield in front of them as gigantron shot a laser beam towards him.

you jumped high into the air over the citizens that ran from the battle towards gigantron. ultraman bared his feet as he was pushed from the force of the laser beam, almost slamming into the baseball stadium.

the laser beam stopped, only for him to see the same figure from the tv last night slamming their fish into gigantron's face. the kaiju ran away towards the metal sphere that laid abandoned on the middle of the street. you turned towards ultraman as he stared at you. "are you okay?"

he could only stare till he shouted. "who are you?!?" you couldn't help but laugh at his question. "we got no time for that, you'll figure out soon." he stared confused but shook it off as you both ran after gigantron who was flying away.

kenji examined his surroundings till mina's voice spoke up. "ken, you saw what the KDF did to neronga. they will kill gigantron if you don't help." he turned to you instantly. "do you work for the KDF?" "what the fuck, hell no!" you said. "then come with me, we can't let them kill gigantron." you nodded your head as the both of you jumped up, soon flying after the KDF planes to catch up.

the both of you flew as fast as you could to the KDF, eventually nearing their planes. you watched as ultraman tried his best to get them off of the kaijus trail. "hey! guys! gigantron is actually flying away. so, i don't know, uh, maybe turn those birds around and head on home."

you played along, trying to help his persuading. "there's no use going after gigantron anymore, they're not attacking japan. you'll only make them angrier." you both peered into the windows of the jets.

your attempts were useless as all three jets ignored you both and flew more forward. you heard ultraman sigh as he chased after them, you following in pursuit. "uh! you see what i get for trying to be the good guy?" he said obviously annoyed. you looked at him smirking slightly inside. "that's kind of what you're supposed to be doing metal man."

his head snapped at you, only for his robotic blue eyes to roll at your comment making you laugh. he flew up, getting face to face with the kaiju. "hey there, mr. gigantron!" you flew next to him waving at them.

the kaiju could only screech at the both of you, ignoring you both. "if you give me whatever that thing is, those planes back there might leave you alone." he said. "yeah! and you won't have to deal with any more pesky problems with them too!" you added on. they could only growl at you both once again.

the KDF eventually caught up, shooting at gigantron. gigantron flew by, only to drop the sphere after being shot on their arm. quickly diving down, they collecting it midair as their tail smacked you and ultraman both.

your bodies flew behind the KDF as they aimed their missiles at gigantron. "keep them safe!" you yelled at ultraman who stared confused until you grabbed his body and shot him past the jets to get behind gigantron, blocking their aim.

he yelled slightly but fixed his flying as he neared the kaiju. "please! they're going to kill you!" you activated the turbo blasters on your heels, shooting yourself up to the two of them. the click of a button sounded out as missiles began to shot from the mutiple jets that chased after you all.

"get out of the way!" you slammed into ultraman, attempting to push him out the way. you were too late as you could barely get out of the crossfire, the force of the explosion blasting against your bodies. you both flew down with the force, your bodies crashing against the ocean floor as you laid there motionless.

you jolted up to your body being shaken, only to see ultraman was the one who woke you up. "what's going on?" you asked examining your environment. you both fell quiet hearing the screech of gigantron as they weakly moved through the water.

their body collapsed sideways, as they reached for the sphere in front of them, resting their head on it. you could only stay frozen as you saw their eyes slowly begin to close.

the metal sphere rolled over from the force of the water, pushing it towards the direction of the both of you. it began to blink red as it beeped. gradually, it started to sink into the water. you lunged your hand into the water, quickly grasping onto the sphere as your held it in your palm.

the sphere split in half, leaving a oval like structure on your hand, covered in purple and cyan. you felt it slightly move, seeing cracks slowly appear. "no no no no no no no no no no no." you heard ultraman speak, his voice filled with worry.

it was then that you realized it wasn't just a oval. it was a egg. a kaiju egg. the pieces broke away, only to leave a bundle of pink in the palm of your hands. they had a tiny yellow beak and fins that laid in the side of their head and top of it. they were adorable. you wouldn't deny it, but it was still a kaiju.

you felt ultraman eyes bore onto it, his composure stiff but full of curiosity. you passed the baby kaiju over to them, letting him grab ahold of it. it was almost like the air had softened around him as he gently held it.

suddenly the peaceful atmosphere that briefly existed disappeared in an instant. the sounds of jets getting nearer snapped the two of you out of your thoughts. "follow me." you didn't know what to do but followed him under the water as you both swam quickly.

you eyes landed on an underwater lair. the walls of it were made with glass and bordered with gray metal. you watched ultraman enter a pod, hurrying you in. his fist pounded at the glass in front of him in a rush, huddling the baby kaiju's body close to his.

the glass door went down, causing the both of you to fall out and move with the water, making you gasp for air. you were beyond confused where you were but you had an idea. you weren't an idiot, you knew the identity of ultraman. it would be dumb not to considering your connection with professor sato and him teaching you how to become a hero.

"mina! emergency analysis!" he spoke quickly as a floating sphere appeared in front of you both. not acknowledging you, a female robotic voice spoke up. "scanning for injuries." a ray of light emitted from them, slowly moving upward on ultraman's body till they landed on his hands that stayed glued to his chest. his breathing was heavy as he waiting.

"this is very strange. according to my readings, you have a- a second heartbeat? as well as a whole new body?" "no. it's not my heartbeat, mina." "oh, my god! is that a—" her voice rose in shock at the sight. "yup, it's the end of the world," he slowly sat up, having the baby kaiju slip off him and slide around the floor, "woah woah woah woah!" he calmed down seeing them halt to a stop.

"uhm, is it okay?" "'she', ultraman. the infant is a she. her breathing seems normal. reflexes are okay. heart rates seems slightly elevated, but—" she gave her analysis all while the baby kaiju ran around ultraman, till he picked her up again. finally acknowledging you, he handed her over to you.

"just give me the bad news." he spoke up. "i have absolutely no specific data on infant kaiju physiology." ultraman could on chuckle in shock of the situation. "wait i'm sorry, im sorry. didn't mom and dad program you with everything they knew about these things into your electric brain."

"she is not a thing. and we've never seen an infant kaiju before. in fact, no one has." ultraman could only hunch down, raising his hands in annoyance. "great! super helpful. yeah, i think i'd be better off asking siri." he said as he grabbed the baby kaiju out of your hands.

"hey, i'm not the one who brought a giant baby kaiju and a stranger as well." it was in that moment that ken realized what he had done. he brought a stranger, someone he knew nothing about, back to his home as well as a creature he knew nothing about. before he knew it, the light on his chest began to flash blue and red. the baby kaiju could only mimic his actions by changing colors with him.

[mj0702]

The other Bronze – Pt.8

Okay... this is the last Barça part for now (hold your pitchforks - we will get back to Barcelona in the future)

I feel different about this chapter since there's less chaos and more feels but I still hope you like it❤️

I can't put into words how much I appreciate all your support especially @samkerrworshipper and @valewosomtb but also all you anons like my lunatic and gold star ❤️❤️ now go and enjoy 11k of Bronzeness

As soon as Keira and you entered her flat she retreated to the kitchen letting you standing in the hallway

“You need help Kei?” you asked knowing full well she'll decline since you got banned from kitchen duty after you nearly cut off your hand when you wanted to help her and Lucy one night (back in the day back in england) and the night ended in hospital

“You already know the answer to that, Bitsy... go shower...” you heard her yelling back as you heard pots clatter

“I showered at the Beach... with the sexy spaniard” you said now moved to stand in the kitchen entrance

“And then you went to have your little outbreak in the Sea... believe me... you'll want to shower or you'll wake up in the middle of the night itching and scratching your skin off... and I swear to god if you wake me up at 2AM because you decide it would be a good time to shower I'll have your head” the blonde englishwoman answered measuring some stuff for your requested Shepherds pie

“But I don't have my shower stuff here and yours is so... flowery” you whined

“Your choice Bitsy... but I really will have your head if you wake me up in the middle of the night...” Keira looked at you raising an eyebrow in challenge

“Ugh” you huffed pushing yourself of the doorframe as you dragged yourself towards her bathroom

“Good choice” you heard the blonde yelling after you and you could hear the smirk in her voice

“Good choice” you imitated her under your breath “I'm gonna smell like a fucking field of poppies”

After 20 Minutes you cracked opened the door of the bathroom a little bit to yell for Keira

“Keira???!!!” you yelled loudly so she would hear you in the kitchen

“What?” she yelled back and you could hear a nuance of annoyance in her voice

“I forgot clothes” you yelled as Keira stayed in the kitchen and you didn't want to leave the bathroom in your (her) towel

“Ugh kid... I still don't know how you survive without me constantly around” she said as she came out of the kitchen walking down the hall to get you some clothes

“I have a good system of supporting people around me... I refer to them as my cult” you said as she passed you “they make sure I don't die – they're too scared of you”

“I bet... let me guess... Mary, Millie, Rachel, Tooney and Russo?” Keira rolled her eyes knowing you have basically all her lionesses teammates wrapped around your pinkie and if you just look at them with HALF a puppy eye they all scramble to grant you every wish

“And Hempo and Meado and Scotto and Viv and Daan and Greensie and ChloChlo and Leila and Guerrero and Stina and Lia and Kimmi and...” you counted on your fingers smirking as Keira made her way back to you some shorts and a shirt in her hand

“God... you really always get whatever you want” she rolled her eyes but a smile tugged on her lips

“Not everything... otherwise you'd be a Bronze” you shrugged your shoulders as you took the pieces of clothing out of her hand and shut the door

“Don't do that Bitsy...” Keira sighed against the door “... it's not your fault”

“But it feels like it” you answered from inside the bathroom fighting with your balance as you tried to get into the shorts but struggled since you suddenly were overcome with a wave of dizziness

“It's not... stop telling yourself that... it just happened Bitsy...” Keira answered softly as she heard a crashing sound from the inside “You okay Bits?” she asked a little concerned

“All good” you said quickly picking yourself up from inside the shower you fell backwards into “Got stuck on the shorts”

“Dear jesus chirst kid.... I swear you're so clumsy at this point it's more luck than sanity that you're still alive...” the blonde huffed out

You tried to stand up again only to find the room spinning again so you decided to do something you hated doing

“Kei help please....” you said your voice low

Keira knew that when you actually asked for help it was a serious matter so she quickly pushed the door open to find you sitting in the shower back against the tiles

“What's wrong Bits?” she asked concerned crouching down in front of you

“Room's spinning” you mumbled

“You have a headache too?” the blonde asked already knowing what's wrong with you

“Little bit...” you answered honestly

“You have a sunstroke Bits...” Keira smiled lightly “Not used to the spanish sun...”

“Is not fun” you mumbled trying to contain the nausea

“Come on Bits...” the blonde huffed pulling you up into a standing position but keeping a good hold of you “... you gonna lay down on the couch and rest okay...” she said before leading you back into the livening room minus the shorts so you were just in your boxers and a sports bra

“My shorts” you whined

“First... these are MY shorts and secondly... you don't need shorts.. it's just me” Keira said softly before deposing you on the couch “Gonna bring you some water okay”

“Kei...” you whined “... I'm not feeling good”

“I know Bitsy... I know” the blonde sighed before getting you the promised water

“Why am I feeling sick?” you whined turning onto your side

“Sunstroke Bitsy... drink some water... it'll help I promise” Keira said lovingly as she stroke softly through your hair

You carefully took small sips of water as Keira decided to sit down by your head her hand never leaving your face. Softly stroking through your hair, over your forehead or caressing your cheek smiling softly as you continue to whine about how bad you felt

“Take a nap Bitsy.... that'll help too” the blonde englishwoman spoke lowly as she saw your eyes dropping

“You not mad anymore?” you asked half asleep

“I was never mad Bitsy... I was scared” Keira said softly “You mean the world to me, Bitsy and alone the thought of loosing you without being able to do anything scared me – really scared me”

“You mean the world to me too Kei... you're always there” you sighed as Keira started to lightly scratch your scalp

“I've seen you grow up Bits... you fought so many battles and still grew into an amazing person I can't nor do I want to imagen a world without you in it... you have so much more to explore and offer and seeing you out there... without anyone responsible near it squeezed all air out of my lungs Bits... you really can't do things like that” you heard the crack in her voice at the end and force your eyes open again.

Even with your blurred eyesight you could make out Keiras tears

“Kei...” you said lowly waiting for her to look at you “... nothing's gonna happen to me... the stupid always have the luck on their side... so I'm safe... won't leave you Kei... you're my sister too you know... and most of the time you're the better sister.. I love Luce really love her – but I love you just as much because I know you're always there for me... I promise I won't leave you Kei...”

“You can't promise something like this Bitsy... because if you ever break this promise I'm gonna break... not only are you like a sister to me, you are basically my child...” Keira said her voice heavy

“I never broke a promise with you” you said your voice insisted looking her straight in the eye “I never did and I never will...”

“I need you to PROMISE me to start thinking before you do things Bits...” the blonde said and you knew you would never EVER break that promise

“I promise...” you just answered and Keira could hear the honesty in your voice “But you need to promise to never leave me”

“I promise Bitsy... wherever I end up either in my career or afterwards... I'll be always there for you” Keira said softly

“Good... because let's be honest if I have to live of Luces cooking I'm gonna be gone pretty quickly because of food poisoning” you said as a matter of fact

“She got better... she doesn't burn the pasta anymore...” Keira smiled through her tears

“Kei... she was meant to BOIL the pasta... she's the only person I know who burns pasta in cooking water!!!! And she stuffed fish-fingers in a toaster and nearly burned our flat down!!” you exclaimed bewildered

“I know... she had some... questionable ideas” Keira tried to find the right words

“She has shit ideas when it comes to cooking,... I mean who thinks it's a good idea to serve RAW fish” you exclaimed loudly

“To her defence... sushi is raw fish” the blonde said

“WHEN IT'S FRESH IT IS.... this... thing was probably a week old... and on top of that she KNOWS I hate fish” you couldn't contain your outburst

“Fish is good...” Keira smiled knowing just how much you despise it

“Nope... nuh-uh.... it's disgusting... it normally looks at you when served...” you shook your head which reminded you immediately of your nausea again “Uh... wrong move” you mumbled

“Oh Bitsy...” the blonde sighed putting her hand against your forehead “You're burning up... I'll get you some paracetamol and then you'll have a nap... if you feel up to it later we can eat a little bit and then off to bed you scramble”

“Ugh please no paracetamol” you whined

“Ah yeah... I always forget that you always get sick from paracetamol... Aspirin it is then...” the blonde said pitiful as she softly stroke over your forehead experienced first hand before how bad a sunstroke feels

“Can I call G?” you whined miserable

“Of course Bitsy... why are you asking?” Keira asked confused

“Didn't know if you'd be a fan of me calling her... Lucy is not a fan” you mumbled your eyes already dropping again

“Lucy is very much a fan... but more and foremost she's your sister... she swore to protect you Bitsy” the blonde chuckled getting her phone from the side table dialling Georgias number

“Hey best friend... what gives me the unwanted pleasure of you calling me?” Georgias happy voice came out of the speaker and you could hear the smile in her voice

“You really milking that best friend card since Leah is out” Keira deadpanned but couldn't help but smile too

“I mean... I take what I can get...” the younger blonde said grinning “But seriously... what can I help you with”

“Not me.... but you could help your girlfriend out” Keira chuckled

“Ehrm... while you're there?” Georgia asked unsure and you could just picture how her cheeks flush and she rubbed the back of her neck

“Dear jesus... not like that” Kei exclaimed “What is wrong with you??”

“I haven't seen her in WEEKS, Kei... WEEKS...” the younger blonde insistent

“I don't CARE” Keira said back just as insistent

“G” you whispered exhausted

“Hey baby” immediately your girlfriends voice changed into a soft caring low tone

Keira left to finally get the shepherds pie into the oven but still was listening to your conversation with one and a half ear

“Not feeling good” you whispered

“What happened baby...” Georgia asked softly

“Parrently M not used to sun” you mumbled

“You're english... of course we're not used to sun...” your girlfriend chuckled lightly “... what you need from me baby?”

“Just talk... M sleepy” you mumbled your speaking slurred with sleep

“Usual topics?” Georgia double checked softly

“Mhm” you mumbled confirming

“Okay... sooooo... I kinda overslept this morning... but just like... 20 Minutes – still made it to training in time but I couldn't stop at that little bakery.. you know the one on the corner with the colourful dotty thingies on the windows... but I'll make sure to stop there tomorrow again...” Georgia began to lowly tell you about her day with all the little details as you slipped into a peaceful slumber

As your girlfriend heard your even breathing she stopped talking for a second before asking

“Keira?”

“Yes?” the blonde answered

“She asleep?” Georgia asked already knowing the answer

“What do you really want to ask, G? What's on your mind?” Keira chuckled

“How mad is Lucy?” your girlfriend mumbled concerned

“Lucy isn't mad... she's protective... I can promise you deep down inside she's relieved it's you... you're a good person, G and Luce knows that... and I'm happy it's you – because let's be real for a second... any girl Bitsy would have brought home would run for the hills after a “talk” from Lucy Bronze – you can handle that just fine. So Lucy isn't mad... but you're dating her baby sister... she swore to protect her no matter what since the moment she found out y/n will be a girl... and she waited 16 years to give someone “The Talk”... so she'll act all overprotective and threatening and what not but in secret she's happy for the two of you... just let her waltz over you with her “If you're hurting her”-talk and smile politely” Keira said knowing G needs some reassurance right now “Just... don't kiss her in front of Lucy right away... baby sister and all that”

“No kissing got it” G repeated nodding her head – even if no one could see it

“I didn't said no kissing... I said no kissing in front of Luce” the blonde corrected her younger friend

“Isn't that the same thing?” Georgia asked confused

“Gosh G... get creative... didn't YOU tell me about 30 minutes ago you haven't seen your girl for weeks” Keira huffed out as she left the living room with her phone to check on the shepherds pie

“I mean... yeah... but that would involve a lot more than kissing” G answered and Keira could hear her embarrassment

“I love you G, I really do... but I won't cover for you or get Lucy of your backs.... just saying” the blonde said as she pulled dinner out of the oven

“Can we not... talk about that... maybe?” your girlfriend asked even more embarrassed

“We're grown ups, G... we can talk about sex” Keira rolled her eyes before speaking to herself “Do I wake you up Bitsy or not?”

“Why do you want to wake her up? I literally just put her to sleep” Georgia ignored the first part and just jumped on the you-waggon

“She should eat... but as you said... she just fell asleep...” Keira mumbled looking over to your sleeping form

“Wake her... I still got time so I can bore her to sleep again” G said happily

“How often do you talk anyway?” Keira asked finding it quiet endearing how your relationship blossomed and she was very grateful that she was one of the first (if not the first) to witness it

“You mean like now? Or texting?” your girlfriend asked

“Like now.... you immediately knew what she needed – it's cute” the blonde grinned

“Every Day... even when I have games we make time... if it's just five minutes” Georgia said and Keira could hear how important it was for the younger girl

“Didn't peck you as a routine girl, G” Keira teased her friend

“It's important to her....” your girlfriend answered and her voice showed nothing but love for you.

“God G... you sound like your neck deep in love” the blonde chuckled but was met with silence from the other end

“G??” Keira asked kinda bewildered

“Yeah... still there” the younger one mumbled ashamed

“Talk to me G” the blonde encouraged her

“I know it sounds stupid but... god Kei I do love her... I know we haven't dated for long but... I can see her as my forever... I know it's early to say something like that but it feels so different with her... good different...” Georgia tried to put her feelings into word

“Calm down G... it's okay.. it's just me... honestly... I can see it too – you shouldn't say anything like that to Luce tho... at least not for the next... 10.... no... 25 years” Keira said softly and tried to lighten the mood a little bit

“It just... it scares me a little bit I never felt like this about anyone” Georgia explained

“G... if you know, you know... and it's okay to get scared or overwhelmed... but you need to talk to someone – ideally with y/n but you can always talk to me too... keep communicating” the blonde said trying to calm her friend down

“I just never felt like this... like... she's my air you know... god I sound so cheesy... but when I look at her nothing else matters... when she smiles it's like getting hit with a truck and Kei.... when she laughs... it's the most beautiful sound in the world” your girlfriend said and Keira could just HEAR the love

“Tell her G... tell her that every day... because even if they always act so tough... both of them Bronzes need to hear things like that” Keira said softly

“How do you know?” Georgia asked confused

“And she's back” the blonde rolled her eyes “Why do all of you always forget that I dated a Bronze.... for YEARS”

“Ah yeah... you dated the other Bronze” your girlfriend laughed

“Technically I dated the one Bronze... you date the other Bronze” Keira said

Suddenly there was a crashing sound from the living room followed by a whined “Keira” and Keira groaned

“She fell of the couch again?” Georgia asked knowingly

“Yep.... catch you later G... I have to go aid your girlfriend” the blonde huffed

“Tell her I love her, yeah” your girlfriend said hopefully

“Will do... see you in a few days in Camp G... and G” Keira said

“Yeah?”

“You're good for her... Lucy will see this too... so don't let Luce push you around... stand up for your relationship” the blonde said and her voice had a loving tone

“Thanks Kei... I mean it” your girlfriend answered honesty

“KEIRAAAAA” you whined from the floor of the living room

“COMING... jesus...” the blonde yelled back “See you in a few day G...” she said before ending the call

“What happened there Bitsy, hm?” the blonde asked you as she knelt down beside you

“Fell off” you mumbled

“I see that” Keira chuckled “You want to go back to sleep or eat a little bit”

“Shepherds pie?” you asked your eyes shining hopefully

“Waiting in the Kitchen” the blonde smiled as she pulled you up by your good wrist “After that you go straight to bed, do you hear me?”

“Yeah mom” you mumbled and Keira noticed you're definitely still asleep

Keira basically had to feed you since you nearly face planted into your plate several times before she dragged you back to her guestroom. As usual you didn't want to sleep alone so you just started to whine until the blonde gave in once again leading you towards her bedroom. You were dead asleep the second your head hit the pillow so Keira just threw a blanket over you and went back to the living room after she cleaned the kitchen and started packing for her (hopefully) call-up to national camp. Just as Kei was halfway through her packing her phone rang and Lucys name showed up on the display

“What can I do for you ex?” she grinned into the phone as she locked her phone in between her ear and shoulder to have her hands free

“Hello to you too other mother of my princess... Bubs around?” Lucy shot back but Keira knew she wasn't serious

“OUR princess, ex...” the blonde corrected grinning “Nope... your sister is dead to the world in my bed”

“I KNEW there was something going on... G is just a cover, innit?” Lucy exclaimed and faked being shocked

“Oh no... you figured us out” Keira answered monotonous and pausing for a second before starting to chuckle “What you need from her? Not that I could get her up anyway but I'm sure she'll be up at some point in the night”

“I actually need YOU” Lucy mused and Keira heard the slight begging undertone

“Oh my Luce... I thought we were past the sex with the ex act... does Ona know what you're proposing right now?” the blonde just couldn't give up such an opportunity to tease her ex girlfriend

“Oh my god... no... not for that... that front is very well covered thank you very much...” your sister stuttered shocked which caused Keira to start laughing “I need you to bring y/n with you to training tomorrow...”

“That's a given” Keira rolled her eyes “You think I'm gonna leave her out of my sight after the stunt she pulled today?”

“... as fast asleep as possible” Lucy finished her sentences ignoring Keiras interruption

“She definitely outgrown the dino-harness...” the blonde said knowing exactly what Lucy was planning

“I... modified it?” your sister said slowly

“Modified it?” Keira asked confused

“The buckle just works like I belt... so I strapped a belt into the buckle so it would fit...” Lucy said reluctantly

“She will throw a whole ass tantrum you know that right... and you want me to get involved as well” the blonde said warningly

“I know... but come on Kei... she proved today that she actually is not grown up enough to be left to her own devices...” your sister huffed out

“Did it accrue to you that she actually IS grown up enough and she just lets her guard down around you because she knows you're the only person in the entire world that will always be in her corner no matter what... I mean... except for me” Keira said and she knew she hit a nerve when there was no come back from the other end of the line

“I was scared Kei” Lucy admitted her voice low

“I know... I was scared too Luce... but she's growing up... you have to let her make mistakes” the blonde sighed knowing it was so hard to let you off the (imaginary) leash

“I know... but let me have my moment tomorrow.. I'm taking the blame... tell her you didn't knew” Lucy begged a little bit

“If she doesn't talk to you for weeks don't come to me crying” Keira warned “You have a girlfriend for that now... not my problem anymore”

“Deal... but I promise I'll get in her good books at end of training again” your sister said and Kei could hear her grin

“Do I want to know?? I feel a headache forming” the blonde mumbled

“I'll let her drive my Cupra... we just need to wait long enough till the parking lot is empty” your sister said excited thinking she could fulfil a wish for you

“Oh Luce” Keira sighed

“I know... she's going to be so happy” Lucy could hardly contain her excitement

“Oh you have no idea” the blonde tried to warn her friend without saying too much

What Lucy of course didn't knew was that Jill (Scott), Millie and Rachel gifted you 10 driving lessons for your birthday – but not just driving lessons they were stunt driving lessons. Of course it was mostly courtesy of Jill who knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy. So while your sister was under the dreamy impression that she would make you happy being the first one who's letting you drive (even if it was kinda illegal) you perfected the art of drifting, donuts and race gear shifting. And of course how to use the breaks – you weren't completely stupid. But it was the second best present this day. Jill even went so far in buying you race driver shoes – like formula one shoes.

“So you bring her in tomorrow?” Lucy asked hopefully

“Asleep as possible... I'll get her to Nuo around 8... you better be there and get her in that harness before she interacts with Mapí because that will kick-start her” Keira sighed again knowing tomorrow will be an absolute disaster.

“Thanks Kei” your sister said happily “I'll wait in front of the locker room for you”

“You owe me Luce...” the blonde replied

“What do you want?” Lucy asked interested

“I want to have Narla over Christmas” Keira said

“Hard bargain there, Walsh... but okay... but I get her new years” your sister huffed out

“Okay... 8 o'clock locker room.. if you're late I'll let Mapí talk to her” the blonde threatened playfully

“Aye woman...” Lucy answered and Keira could just picture how she put her hand up to a mock salute

“Hate you” the blonde grinned

“No you don't.... see you tomorrow Kiewa” your sister answered using a stupid nickname you once tried to get spread through national team

Keira just hung up continuing to pack some shirts before she called it a night too. She carefully entered her bedroom to find you still dead asleep but you moved to her side your nose pressed deep into her pillow

“Why can't you always be so sweet?” the blonde mumbled lowly a slight smile on her lips

As if you heard her you started to snore – very lightly which caused Keira to laugh quietly before laying down on your other side. Just like always you immediately noticed the “intruder” as you turned around still asleep as you cuddled up to Keiras side

“Bitsy come on.. wake up... we're leaving in five” Keira shook you awake next morning

“Nooooo...” you whined sleepily turning away from her “... five more minutes”

“We're leaving in five, Bitsy... come on... up and at em” the blonde didn't give up “Up... now... teeth, clothes, car” she said sternly

“Kei... nooooo” you whined trying to get away from her shaking

“Up NOW Bitsy” the blonde got even more firm – which she hated herself for

“Yeah okay... I'm up” you grumbled as you stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom

Exactly 5 minutes later you stood at the door where Keira was waiting for you impatiently. You had your shirt on backwards, Barcelona training kit shorts which were slightly too big for you and a England bucket hat on your head

“Is that my bucky?” the blonde asked confused

“Couldn't find anything else and I'm NOT sitting in the sun today... learned my lesson” you mumbled and Keira noticed how grumpy you were

“Come on Bitsy... I'll get you coffee at Camp Nuo” the blonde said hoping to get your spirits up just a little bit – at this point you'd probably rip Lucys throat apart with your teeth if she'd touch you and buckle you up in the harness. She decided to give Lucy a warning which your sister replied with a thumbs up

“Kay” you mumbled as you stumbled towards Keiras car

23 Minutes later you arrived at Camp Nuo and Keira manoeuvres you expertly through the long hallways

“Jesus... bet some people died in here trying to find a toilet” you grumbled as Keira pushed you around another corner which caused the blonde to chuckle behind you her hand never leaving the small of your back

“Not so bad once you figured it out... you were here before, you know.. you just were very VERY high... Alexia lost you twice – not that your sister knows but still... Capi needed to confine someone” Keira laughed

“I actually don't know... I was high... I know NOTHING from that day” you grumbled as you spotted your sister waiting in front of a door that looked just like the 500 doors you already passed.

“Bon dia Bubs” your sister smiled warmly

“Bon fuck yourself” you grumbled while you walked passed her thinking you need to keep going as Lucy grabbed your shirt to pull you back

“Locker room is this way” she said not letting you get to her nerves as you outright sweared at her.

Next thing you knew was that you were buckled up in something and as you looked down you spotted the familiar face of Bronzo the Bronto (courtesy of Dszenifer who thought it would be funny to name your dino-harness Bronzo). Before your brain could even recognise what just happened you heard Lucy victorious chuckle “Still got it”

“Wha... Wha... Wait what??” you stuttered as you tried to comprehend what just happened

“It's okay Bubs... just want you to be save” Lucy said lowly knowing this could go two ways. Either you accept it since you haven't even had coffee yet OR you could completely explode.

Your brain choose option two for you and you just started to sprint. Your sister didn't see that coming she was more prepared for you to attack her directly so you got a few meters between the two of you before Lucy grabbed the leash tightly in her hand trying to stop your running. What she also wasn't prepared for was the strength you could get out of your fury so Alexia was met with a angry faced running you as she rounded the corner as you basically dragged Lucy behind you who still tried to get you under control

“Bubs come on... calm down” your sister tried again “Bon dia Capi” she smile quickly at Alexia before she got dragged on

“I... don't even want to know” the blonde spaniard mumbled to herself as she continued her way to the locker room

“The Bronzes out there?” Keira asked as Alexia entered the changing room

“This way... Cariño seemed quite aggressive this morning” the blonde pointed to the right

“Yeah... Lucy jumped her with the dino-harness... did anyone had any blood on them?” Keira asked getting a little concerned when Alexia used “aggressive”

“Not that I saw... but the Cariño pulled Lucy around like she weight nothing...” the spaniard answered as she tied her cleats

“Yeah... y/n in a bad mood is someone you don't want to cross...” the blonde englishwoman said as she stood up from her cubical grabbing her water bottle

“And why exactly is Cariño pulling around Lucia?” Alexia now questioned as she copied Keira and grabbed her bottle as well when the two women make their way to the field

“You'll see” Keira grinned knowingly

“Bon dia” the two blonde smiled towards the media staff as they recorded the famous arriving of the players

“LEFT!!! TO THE LEFT!!!!” the whole team heard Lucys yelling and all heads turned towards the tunnel exit

“I'LL PRESENT YOU MY LEFT TO YOUR NOSE IN A SECOND!!!!! LET ME THE FUCK GO!!! THIS IS LITERALLY KIDNAPPING!!!” you shouted back and Keira heard that you were about to lose it

“HA!!!!!” Lucy exclaimed as she pulled you out after her “You admit you're a kid... so you get treated like one.... Bon dia” your sister smiled at the camera having the leash over her shoulder walking slightly hunched forward as you got pulled backwards.

“I swear to god Lucy... I rip you to pieces” you sneered as you passed the media staff

The whole team watched the interaction between the two of you and before you knew it you heard a loud laugh. Mapí just couldn't help herself as she saw you in the bright green dino-harness kicking and pouting like a three year old. You of course didn't think it was funny so you turned and sprinted past Lucy about to fight the tattooed spaniard as Lucy hauled you back

“Nooooo... we don't fight” your sister said sternly as she held the leash tightly digging her feet into the grass so you couldn't pull her along again

“She's laughing” you said accusing and even Lucy saw that your patience’s wearing thin

“Let her Bubs... come on... I even got you some coffee and ice cream” your sister tried to lure you away as Mapí stupidly opened her mouth

“You wearing a kiddie-leash” the spaniard laughed loudly as Ingrid stepped in looking at Lucy

“Where did you find that? That is a great idea!!” the Norwegian asked interested

“Bronzo? Bought it back in Lyon when missy here decided to go on a stroll while I was... occupied and I had to pick her up hours later at a police station” your sister grinned as she playfully tugged on the leash

“You weren’t “occupied” you were shoving your tongue down Keiras throat!!!” you exclaimed aggregated

“I think my life would benefit from something like this as well” Ingrid mused her eyes sparkling

“Why would we need something like this, mi amor?” Mapí now asked confused

Ingrid just raised an eyebrow expectantly at her girlfriend waiting for her to catch on – and finally she did

“NO.... I don’t need something like this... I’m no hija” the tattooed spaniard exclaimed annoyed looking at you pointingly as she referred to you as a child

“You sure sound like one at the moment...” the Norwegian grinned as Mapí pouted and crossed her arms over her chest before sticking out her tongue to you

You tried to get to her again as Alexia now stepped in and stopped you

“cálmate” the blonde spaniard said calmly and the usage of spanish got you out of your head

“Huh?” you asked as you looked at her confused

“cálmate” Alexia repeated softly

“Cellmate?” you asked even more confused “makes no sense dude”

“It means “Calm down” in spanish” the blonde answered her voice calm and low

“Ha... so calm mate is making sense” you said but weirdly you felt much more calm

“It kinda does, doesn't it” the Capitan still kept her voice calm as she grabbed your waist manoeuvring you to the side line without breaking eye contact as she feared you would jump on Mapí and kill her.

Everyone watched the interaction stunned as you just let Alexia carefully move you away from the team. Even Lucy and Keira couldn't believe it since it was normally a fight for hours till you calmed down.

“Shit Capi is good” Lucy mumbled loosening the leash so you wouldn't feel the pressure and would snap again

“Shut up before you shift her focus and we have another fight on our hands” Keira shushed her ex girlfriend warningly

Alexia manoeuvred you into a shady corner the leash now dragging behind you since Lucy had to let go of it to not disturb the little moment you have with her Capitan.

“Are you gonna be good and stay here or do I have to tie this leash to one of the posts?” Alexia asked you quietly but still firmly

“Not gonna run” you mumbled kinda ashamed and embarrassed being strapped into a kiddie-harness right in front of (yet again) world class players “So embarrassing”

“No need to be embarrassed Cariño... we just want you save” the blonde said quietly keeping this interaction as private as possible “And it makes Lucia feel so much better knowing you're save”

“She could just have...” you started but couldn't come up with a reasonable solution

“It's the best solution for now... and after training I'll let you chase Mapí for making fun of you, okay.. now please stay here – I give you the... depth of doubt and won't tie this leash up but if you disappoint me I won't hesitate to do so” Alexia said softly but it was a fair warning to you

“Benefit...” you mumbled not meeting her eyes “It's benefit of the doubt... but thank you”

“If you need something just yell or tell one of the staff members okay?” the blonde smiled warmly at you

“Is there coffee around?” you asked hopefully as the blonde started laughing signalling to one of the staff to come over. She quickly spoke to the young man in spanish and he jogged off back into the building

“Cortado is on the way” the Capitan winked “you remember “thank you” in spanish?”

“Moohtschas grazia or something like that” you said after a second of thinking and you could see Alexia visibly flinch at your butchering her mother tongue

“You have to speak softer, Cariño... spanish is a soft language – not harsh... try again... muchas gracias” the blonde encouraged you to try again

“That's what I said... Moohtschas grazias” you said confused

“You are to hard on the “s”... it's “s” like … sunshine... not “z” like... what's this white and black horse?” she tried to remember

“Zebra” you helped her out

“Sí... Zebra... again... muchas...” Alexia spoke slowly empathizing the “s”

“muchas” you tried to copy her pronunciation

“gracias” the blonde said slowly again

“gracias” you followed

“Bíen... muchas gracias” Alexia smiled proudly at you “Now be good and stay here” she said as she pressed a light kiss to your forehead and left you standing there rooted in place.

The only people who were allowed to give forehead kisses were Lucy, Keira, Sarina and Georgia. Alexia wasn't allowed and you were very careful when it came to physical contact. Keira of course kept an eye on you through warm ups and saw the interaction with Alexia. As soon as the blonde spaniard leant down to press a small kiss to your forehead Keira already moved towards you

“It's okay Bitsy... it's how the spanish are, okay... she doesn't mean any harm” Keira spoke calmly since she knew what physical contact – at least not predicted one – did to you.

“It's just the way they are around here, okay... they're very touchy feely... no need to freak out Bitsy okay” the blonde englishwoman kept talking until you looked at her

“She... she kissed me” you stuttered out

“I saw... but she doesn't mean any harm – it's really how they are here” Keira reassured you

“I... didn't like it... she didn't say anything beforehand” you said and the blonde could see how you were fighting an internal battle

“She doesn't know... no one knows you don't like contact like that” the blonde stayed calm through your conversation

“Why did she do that?” you asked confused

“She wanted to show you how good you did” Keira once again reassured you

“Ice cream would have done the job” you mumbled which caused the blonde to burst out laughing

“I know... but I can see some coffee coming this way... I bet it has your name on it” Keira smiled as she stroke through your hair and turned around to leave you to re-join training.

“muchas gracias” you said as the young man who grinned widely as he answered “De Nada”

You sat down on the ground sipping on your coffee watching the training going on as they switched from passing drills to 5 a side. You remembered these drills like the back of your hand and you already knew who would pass to whom and who would assist to who to get the ball into the back of the net. The drills they were playing were so predictable that you groaned internally. Just happens to not be internally – you groaned so loudly that even Jona turned around looking at you as if he tried to figure out if you're hurt again. He signalled Lucy and spoke to her quietly as her eyes snapped towards you before she came jogging over

“What's wrong Bubs... Jona said you might have hurt yourself he said you groaned quite loudly” your sister asked worried

“M not hurt... but this is so boring and your playing is so predictable...” you rolled your eyes

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked confused

“Okay wait...” you waited until the whistle blew again “Ingrid will pass it to Ona, Mapí tries to intercept but her footing is wrong so she won't get there in time. Ona will pass it as a high ball to that brown haired one who will TRY to get it down the middle with as a half-volley but Alexia stands to close so brown hair only gets the ball to bounce of Alexias hip... she will pass the ball to the right to flawless and flawless will cross it back into the middle to the blonde norwegian... who will make it look like she's going in for a header but she'll let the ball cross to the Jamaican spaniard who's already waiting at the back post... oh yeah... and Kei was open in the middle the whole time” you said and it happened exactly like you said just that you said it about 10 seconds before it all happened

“What the...” your sister listened to you as you predicted the whole tactic move before it even got played out now looking at you shocked

“Told you.. predictable” you shrugged your shoulders as Lucy waved Jona over to her speaking to him in spanish as now HIS eyes snapped towards you.

“Mind if we try something Bubs?” Lucy asked you smiling slightly

“I'm NOT trying your protein shakes again” you exclaimed

“No... I just want to show Jona something” she laughed as she nodded to her trainer.

Jona yelled something in spanish and the teams mixed up before he looked at you expectantly

“Tell me what's going to happen now, Bubs... I'll translate for him” Lucy encouraged you as you scanned the field and who the players were positioned

After a few minutes you looked at your sister “Team Yellow is going to score first... they have a technical midfield and even if Team Red has the better defence, they will concentrate on the forwards instead of the midfield and either Kei or tweedledee will score – team reds defence will probably only watch tweedledumb and Jamaican spaniard and forget about the technical finesse these two midfielders have... Alexia will realize it first but it will be to late” you shrugged your sister as she spoke lowly to her trainer who then turned around to blow the whistle.

Again you watched bored as the game rolled out just as you said – it was Keira who had the finishing touch on the ball to hit the back of the net. Jona turned around to you looking like he saw a ghost

“How did you know this?” Lucy asked you after Jona talked to her for a minute

“Predictable” you felt like a broken record “You guys focus too much on the forwards... you have an amazing midfield but you only go for the forwards... it’s a wonder you’re opponents haven’t figured it out already”

Lucy again translated what you said to her trainer who couldn't stop to look at you with a shocked face

“He wants you” your sister grinned

“Yeah no... I don't dingdongs... sorry” you waved off before yelling over to the field “Keira... rotate your hip more when you go for that high ball... and lock your ankle... you look like a fucking penguin trying to walk on ice”

“He wants you in his training staff you horny bitch” Lucy bit out

“Yeah... he can get in line” you mumbled watching Keira closely as she tried to follow through with what you just said

“What was that?” your sister asked confused

“KEIRA for god sakes... LOCK THIS BLOODY ANKLE... you locked it around my sisters waist enough times that I know you're able to do so!!!” you yelled again not happy with the outcome of your “pointers”

“Dear heavens” Lucy groaned as half the team looked at her while the other half looks at Keira “No more caffeine for you”

“It's not the caffeine that's the problem here...” you mumbled watching Keira step up to the ball again

“Then what is?” Lucy asked annoyed

“You REALLY want the answer to this question?” you raised an eyebrow at her

“On second thought...” your sister interrupted quickly

“Yep.. thought so...” you grinned fake “BETTER KEI!! Good job” you yelled out as the ball was nearly perfect

“Thanks Bitsy” the blonde yelled back smiling

“Always” you shouted before sitting down again

“What did you mean when you said Jona can get in line?” Lucy asked bringing the former topic back up

“You really think he's the first trainer that offered me a job??” you looked at her in disbelieve

“I... can't follow you” your sister said getting more and more confused

“The first one who offered was Sarina after the Euros... you think it was an accident to bring Tooney and Less in just after halftime? Second one was Alex Straus, third one was Emma, fourth one was Jonas, fifth was Gareth and on place no. 6 now the spanish guy... so yeah... he can get in line” you said seriously as you looked your sister straight in the eye

“I had no idea” Lucy said slowly compensating the information

“Yeah... it's not like I make a big deal out of it” you shrugged but Lucy knew you wanted to say something else

“You can always talk to me, Bubs” she said knowing you would need to hear it again and again and again

“Yeah... I know” you sighed

“Good... I'm going back to training okay... we have about 30 minutes left then we can go for ice cream...” she smiled softly at you before turning around leaving

“Hey Luce?” you shouted after her

“Yeah?”

“Can I have your phone please... mines dead again and I'm bored... you have games on your phone right?” you asked pouting a little for good measure

“Sure... pin is your birthday” your sister went over to her bag quickly and tossed you her phone

“Love you” you shouted after her.

Just as you wanted to start playing candy crush it started to ring. Caller was “Lionesses”. So you figured you could answer the phone.

“Lucy Bronzes phone... you're speaking with the better looking and younger version” you answered the call

There was a beat of silence before the other person started to speak

“Y/n??” you heard a confuses voice

“Hi Mama Rina” you said happily noticing Sarinas voice immediately

“I thought I called Lucy” the Dutch was majorly confused

“You did... I'm currently at the Camp Nope watching her train and I got bored so I got her phone to play candy crush” you explained as the smile never left your face.

“Oooooh okay... think she can make it to Camp next week?” Sarina asked and you could her smile through the phone

“Wait... I'll ask her...” you said before covering the phone with your hand “LUUUCCYYYY!!!! SARINA WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU ARE FREE NEXT WEEK FOR CAMP!!!” you yelled of the top of your lungs

“WHAT?” your sister asked confused

“NATIONALCAMP NEXT WEEK!! YES? NO?” you yelled again

“YES OF COURSE!!!” Lucy yelled already on her way over again

“She said yes... Keira is here too” you got back to the call

“Would you mind, Liefje?” Sarina asked you already pulling the phone away from her ear knowing you're going to start yelling in a second

“KEIRA??? NATIONALCAMP – YES OR NO?!” you yelled to the blonde englishwoman

“YES” Keira just yelled back not bothering asking why you asked her

“Kei said yes too...” you repeated the answer to the womans national coach

“Thank you, snoepje... I'll see you all in a week then” the Dutch smiled and ended the call

“Why are you on the phone with Sarina?” your sister asked

“She called...” you shrugged your shoulders “Flights will be send per email as usual”

“She called... okay...” Lucy said dumb folded and left again

Just as training was about to end and you roamed the side line a little bit – always under the watchful eye of Alexia, Lucy and Keira – Mapí tried to do a midfield shot on goal. Of course she booted the ball without any precision and the ball ended up in your direction

“Y/N!! WATCH OUT!” Keira yelled as she saw the ball rocketing towards you.

You lifted your head just in time to recognise the ball but you didn't have time to THINK what you would do. Your body reacted out of reflex and muscle memory. You stopped the ball perfectly with your chest before you volleyed it down the field with your right food and your precision was so on point that the ball came in perfect for Keira who stopped the ball with her foot mid air to turn with it and just tipped it into the open goal. Everyone on the pitch looked at you shocked and even you were shocked about what happened. Since you got your diagnosis with your third ACL you swore to yourself to never touch a ball again – and yet here you were assisting a “goal” for Keira and it was all Mapís fault. No one dared to move as they kept staring at you – and suddenly it clicked in your head. You looked at Lucy. You looked at Keira.

“Bubs no... it's okay... you're okay” Lucy tried to approach you slowly as she spoke softly seeing in your eyes exactly what your next move would be.

Oh how right she was – the second it really sunk in what just happened you bolted. You jumped over the barrier running as fast as you could. OF COURSE you forgot about the dino-harness. You just entered the tunnel as you got hauled backwards with such a force that you lost your footing and crashed into the ground. You just laid there as you tried to breath but your breathing became more hectic and rapid. Your sisters face appeared next to you only seconds later pulling you upon into a sitting position as she shuffled in behind you pressing your body back into hers as you tried to fight her grip

“It's okay Bubs... nothing happened... you're okay..” Lucy reassured you over and over again as you keep struggling in her arms trying to get free

“You need to breath for me Bubs... come one... deep breaths” your sister spoke softly ignoring the fact that you already hit her twice in the rips as she sat with you on the ground in the tunnel.

Suddenly Lucy heard fast approaching footsteps and the next second a panic stroked Mapí dropped to her knees in front of the two of you.

“Neña... Neña I'm so sorry... I didn't mean too... please” the spaniard begged you as she took your face in her hands seeing you so majorly distressed brought her to the verge of tears

You jerked back from her touch successfully head butting Lucy in the face who groaned painfully and felt hot liquid shooting out of her nose right into you hair as you kept your face away from Mapí. Your sister tightened the grip around you body basically switching to koala hug you from behind as tight as possible as you kept throwing your weight around

“Maps please... I know you're sorry and I know it wasn't on purpose but I need you to leave us alone right now” Lucy said through gritted teeth not because she was angry she just felt her strength leaving her arms and she knew the second she would let go you'd be gone and probably gone for days.

“I just want her to know how sorry I am... I really didn't mean to... Keira said I opened the box of Pandora” the tattooed spaniard said and Lucy heard the desperation in her voice

“I know Maps... I know it wasn’t intentional... and I promise you everything will be okay again – it's not the first time I'm going through this with her and she will calm down eventually... we just need space” your sister answered – even tho her voice got quite nasally – calmly to not set the spaniard off even more.

She could see how Mapí beat herself up but she was oh so thankful when she heard another pair of footsteps approaching and seconds later Mapí got hurled to her feet and dragged away by her girlfriend. As soon as the spaniard was gone from your vision you calmed down significantly reducing to a whimpering mess in your sisters arms

“I know Bubs... it's still too much for you and I know you need to work through it in your own time...” Lucy spoke quietly into your hair as she started to rock the both of you back and forth.

Lucy loosened her grip around you slightly to see your reaction but not too much if you'd try to bolt. Thankfully you exhausted yourself to the point where you just sack against her trying to find as much comfort in her touch as possible. You stayed like this for another 10 minutes with your sister mumbling sweet nothings into your hair before Lucy heard a low whistle coming from the tunnel entrance. As she looked up she saw Keira poking her head around the corner an eyebrow raised in question. The blonde knew from past experiences that you would get send right into another panic attack if there was anyone else except for Lucy around you. Lucy looked down on your hunched form back up at Kei and nodded. Keira approached the two of you carefully always ready to stop or even retreat if you showed any sign of discomfort

“That was a bad one” the blonde whispered as she slid down next to the two of you.

“I'm so thankful for that stupid leash... we wouldn't have found her for at least days Kei... if not weeks” Lucy whispered back as she adjusted your hold on you pulling you closer to her chest

“I know... but Mapí didn't mean too...” Keira said as she kept her voice low

“I know... I'm not blaming her or anyone... it was a stupid coincidence” your sister answered her eyes never leaving you

“She just broke down in the locker room... she's beating herself up really bad for that” the blonde whispered

“Ingrid with her?” Lucy asked alarmed not wanting Mapí to fall down into a mental hole as well – one mental breakdown was enough for one day.

“Course... Alexia as well... but she needs to hear it from y/n... it's funny isn't it? They know her for a few days but I bet my yearly salary that every single woman in that room would jump in front of a truck for her” Keira said and a low chuckle left her throat

“It's the Bronze charm... you fell for it too... twice actually” your sister smiled slightly

“You wish... you figured out already that G is a cover... you think I was after you?” the blonde teased back

“Keira Fae...” Lucy faked gasped shocked “... are you implying you were after my Sister the whole time?”

Keira just grinned enjoying the playful banter that just shows what good of a relationship Lucy and her were still having. A purely friendly relationship but still up for banter.

As you registered more of your surroundings you noticed that at one point Keira must have entered the scene and you blindly patted your hand towards her hoping she'd understood. And of course she did – she took your hand into hers without and comment making sure to keep a good hold of it.

“It's okay Bitsy... we're here” the blonde whispered calmly

You just sunk deeper into your sisters arms pressing your face into the crook of her neck feeling utterly exhausted

“You should get your nose checked out” Keira said referring to the dried blood on Lucys face

“Later... not important right now” your sister mumbled squeezing you tighter to her chest

“M sorry Luce” you mumbled against her neck

“S okay Bubs... you just got scared” Lucy mumbled back pressing a kiss to your forehead

“M sorry to Mapí too... probly scared her” you half-slurred as your body felt heavy your mind exhausted

“Don't worry about it... you can talk to her tomorrow on the phone, okay?” your sister reassured you softly

“Want to pologize n person” you said as your closed again

“Okay... but tomorrow... you okay moving to the locker room?” Lucy asked carefully

“Don't want to see anyone” you shook your head

“I'll clear it out” Keira said as she stood up “Give me five minutes”

After five minutes Keira came back around the corner nodding. Lucy tried to stand up but with you in her lap and sitting on the hard ground for nearly an hour she wasn't able too. Your hand clutched her shirt tightly fearing she would disappear once you'd let go

“Come here Bitsy... the old woman needs help to stand up” Keira said her voice teasing as she pulled you off your sister into her arms.

You were basically dead weight at this point only be held up by the blondes strength. As soon as Lucy stood up (with a loud groan) she lifted you bridal style and started to walk towards the locker room where Alexia waited outside the door. The blonde spaniards eyes grew wide in shock as she saw Lucys face but recovered quickly as she just opened the door to the mostly empty locker room in silence letting your sister carry you inside before closing the door behind you. Inside Ona waited with a water bottle offering it to you as Lucy placed you in a corner on the bench letting you lean against the cool wall.

“I'm just gonna jump the shower quickly Bubs, okay... is it okay if Ona has an eye on you or do you want her to leave” Lucy spoke softly knowing from past experience that you couldn't deal with loud noises in that state

“S okay...” you mumbled taking a small sip of the water

“Okay” your sister sighed relieved “I'll be back in a flash okay Bubs”

You just nodded sipping slowly on your water while Ona retreated to the other side of the room not wanting to invade your space or scare you. You were pretty impressed she knew what you needed – then again Keira probably gave her a run down. The all to familiar feeling of loneliness spread in your chest again and you just grunted hoping Ona would understand your silent request. She wasn't Keira so you had to make yourself known a second time – this time with a whine. Ona noticed you were slightly in distress but didn't knew how to react. Keira told her to be there but not too close. But after you whined out she kicked all plans out the window approaching you carefully sitting down two cubical away from you

“You need anything, Bebita?” the blonde freckled spaniard asked quietly

“Hug” you whined out

“Ven aquí entonces” Ona mumbled out and to both of your surprise you basically threw yourself into her arms.

That's how Lucy found you 10 Minutes later – you fast asleep in Onas arms who looked like she was hardly breathing not wanting to scare you.

“Welcome to the family” Lucy smiled as she passed you seeing how content you apparently felt in her girlfriends arms

“I didn't to anything I swear... she asked for a hug then threw herself at me and seconds later she was out like a light” the spaniard whispered her voice slightly panicked not wanting to set you off.

“Don't worry... she won't wake up...” Lucy waved off speaking normal volume “I know you didn't started it... but you have no idea what this means... you are basically now her sister too... she accepts no one other than Keira or me to touch her in that state... and here we are with her fast asleep in your arms... you made it Babe”

“Is this her way of telling me she's okay with me dating you?” Ona smiled

“It's more than that... she's telling you that she trusts you” your sister said as she put a new shirt on “You know if a physio is still around? Need my nose checked out – don't think it's broken but better save than sorry”

“Marc should still be around...” the spaniard answered “What's with her”

“Hope you're comfortable... I'll be back quickly” Lucy grinned widely before slipping out of the door before her girlfriend could protest

Outside she was met with Keira and Alexia both leaning against the opposite wall

“Wow... extra security detail... she's asleep – no need for bodyguards” your sister joked as she laid eyes on her two teammates

“How is she?” Keira asked cutting straight to the point

“Asleep... Ona seems to meet her standards when it comes to sleepability” Lucy smiled

“Good... keep me updated... and if you need anything” the blonde started already grabbing her things knowing there's nothing for her to do anymore

“I'll text you... thanks Kei... it really meant a lot... also means... thank you” your sister said honestly

“Always Luce... always... whatever you need... or whatever she needs” Keira smiled back warmly

“Kay... see you tomorrow Kei” Lucy hugged her ex girlfriend and pressed a soft kiss to her temple

“And what can I do for you Capi?” your sister asked expectantly after she turned around

“Let's take a walk?” the blonde spaniard asked

“I need to see Marc anyway...” Lucy shrugged her shoulders

“What happened?” Alexia asked straight away

“Panic attack” your sister answered as the two women walked down the hallway

“But why... nothing happened” the blonde asked confused

“For us it was nothing... for her it opened up old deep wounds” Lucy answered “I'm about 95% sure it was the first time she touched a ball in over three years. You see... you just went through an ACL tear and rehab yourself... you know what it takes and how it feels... now imagine being 13 and went through it twice already and you AGAIN tore your ACL... I still can remember the look she had on her face when I told her what the diagnosis was... she was just stoic... for weeks she didn't talk just basics... she hardly ate – just what Keira and I basically forced down her throat and there were a lot of panic attacks and nightmares... at some point she got better again – but she never worked it out... and I'm still waiting for the day when she finally breaks... that earlier was just a panic attack about touching a ball again”

Alexia listened carefully before looking at Lucy with a sorrow face

“No...” your sister immediately said sternly “We don't pity her of feel sorry for her... we're proud of her...”

“She didn't deserve that... that ball was PERFECT Lucia...” the blonde spaniard said and her voice was full of hurt

“I know... you haven't seen her play... how she ran circles around Jill Scott or Ellen White out dribbling them with such ease.. how she kicked a Gatorade bottle off the crossbar – from the other box just for fun... how she spend HOURS on the side line when I had training just playing keep ups... believe me Alexia when I say... I KNOW” Lucy answered and for a second Alexia saw just how hurt Lucy was for you “But she fought... three times she fought back... doc said she'd probably will have a limp all live – do you see her limping? No... because she fought... so no, we don't pity her... we're so SO proud of her”

“She is remarkable, just like her biggest Idol....” Alexia smiled but it had a sad nuance

“I wish I was half as Tough as she is” your sister smiled back understanding her Capitan immediately.

“Just keep being there for her Lucia... she doesn't need anything more from you...” the blonde squeezed Lucys shoulder lightly “And now get that nose checked... you looked... not very appealing”

“I looked like shit... but thanks Capi... see you tomorrow” your sister smiled as she went inside to the physio who told her a few proddings later that her nose was in fact fine

“Hey... I'm back” Lucy said lowly finding you and Ona in the same position she left you in

“Hola... you okay?” Ona asked smiling slightly as you drooled on her shirt your head laying on her shoulder

“Nothing broken... just bruised.... home?” your sister asked as she already packed up hers and Onas stuff

“You really want to move her? She's sleeping so peacefully” the blonde asked concerned looking down on you.

“You want to stay here all night?” Lucy asked back raising an eyebrow

“Let's get her home” Ona said after a second

“Yep thought so... You bags I her?” your sister asked smiling

“I bag and keys...” the blonde grinned “... you know since she's around I'm driving your car more than you do... I like it... she can stay” the blonde winked

“You wish...” Lucy huffed as she pulled you into her arms to carry you to the car “Let's go home Bubs” she whispered and smiled as you sighed out pressing your face against her neck.

[carmenized-onions]

Loosen Your Grip. | R & D

logline; even when it seems counter-intuitive.

[!!!] series history; so many parts, so many words.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. 8 hour mark officially! Lets go!

portion; 15k knowing the next chapters, this trend isn't going to change. they have started to line up with the chapter number, to my chagrin.

possible allergies; i think this one is relatively harmless? Stress though. Everyone's stressed. Idk what to tell you man, it's the bear. oh but more things were yoinked from Season 3!! Think that's just gonna be ongoing tbh. also if this is bad don't tell me. tell me it's really good, actually. i've never doubted a chapter more than I do this one.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader it's so fem. it's so she/her'd it's so girl'd i'm so sorry

kofi; if you’ve enjoyed the series, perhaps you wanna tip!

i'm so sorry for the delays beloveds, can you say 'most high stress but high reward month and a half of my life'? i can!!!

The Monday morning after New York— The first morning waking up in your own bed in a day or two— Comes rudely. Well, not immediately. First you have to roll over and grab aimlessly at your nightstand, searching for your phone to turn off your alarm. Through blurred vision you slide it to snooze, and as you debate going back to bed, your eyes glaze over some texts you’ve received in your sleep, from numbers you never bothered to put in your contacts. It takes a minute to absorb the information and register it as real, but once you do—

“...Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

—You’re definitely not gonna be heading back to bed anymore. You’re wide-eyed and wired— You can probably skip coffee this morning. Maybe every morning forever.

“Oh— I fucking hate this fucking city, I fucking hate Chicago— Fuck this!” 

In lieu of coming to terms with your world shattering news, perhaps this is an important moment to express gratitude, for the things that have gone well in the past few days. 

The rest of the weekend in New York was as lovely as a last-minute trip in a cramped car full of kitchen equipment and four neurotics can be.

Gratitude. Highlight reel?

There’s a bag M and Ms monogrammed with Syd’s, Richie’s, Carmy’s, and your faces in your pantry now. Eva shouldn’t be the only one allowed to have fun. Though snacking on all your cute little faces does make you feel like a slight monster.

Managed to get a good gift for Richie. Thank you Tiffanys. It was certainly an interesting moment when everyone tried to come up with lame excuses as to why they had to split up from the group to definitely totally not go get Christmas presents.

 Carmen’s knife guy wasn’t able to do engravings on such short notice, and you’re not the type to settle for less, especially not with Syd, so that’ll be a next year gift, it seems. You came up with a serviceable back-up while strolling through the MET— Which was a mostly fun field trip, it was very inspiring. You all could've done without Richie's pretentious prattling about postmodern absurdist dadaism. Mostly because you're pretty sure half of it was wrong; but still a good trip, all told.

Still lost on what to get Carmen… You’ve got a week, it’s fine. You’ve done more with less before. How do you subtly ask a guy, ‘hey, what the hell else do you like besides your job?’ You’ll figure it out. Figure it out like you figure out everything else, like you always do. Hopefully.

It's Monday. You've got a week. It's fine. Stop looking at your phone. This is such bad timing. This is awful fucking timing. You’ll figure it out. Stop looking at your phone, stop looking at the texts. Do the Connections, send it to Carmy, he already sent his, be normal… Just such bad timing—

At the very least if you can't bear to look away from the life ruining texts, just shut your phone off. You’ve got to stop ruminating or you’ll rot in bed forever. And you really have to get out on time, today. 

“God wants me to kill myself—” Gratitude. Express gratitude.

The drive back went ‘well’. Everyone had their licenses so the squad took shifts either driving or sitting on the uncomfortable console. Or, in your case specifically, sitting half on Carmen’s lap in shotgun on occasion despite the many complaints from Syd and Richie. You had a good excuse! Neither of you slept for the entire trip just to work on the cocktail and coffee menu. It was practically a sacrifice! It was just easier to sit up front together, okay!? You had to be close, you were scribbling ratios and drawings of glasses into a stolen notepad from the Holiday Inn with pencil crayons bought from FAO Schwarz—

Oh, hey, put that on the gratitude scoreboard, that was another thing that went well. Pretty cool to go to the oldest toy store in America. Might not have gotten the chef in your life anything yet, but the kids in your life are covered— You’re winning best Aunt for sure.

Oh, huge highlight— Didn’t say love you, like some idiot. Got away with that by the skin of your teeth, honestly. Hard to stare up at the Rockefeller Christmas Tree next to the guy and not blurt out something fucking stupid. Thank God for Syd, who stomped on your foot when you seemed a little too doe eyed.

With great pain and bemoaning, you finish expressing gratitude, which hasn’t helped much. You slam your phone screen down on your nightstand and roll out of bed. 

Today’s Monday. Today’s your first day at The Bear. Today that is the priority and there is nothing else to worry about.

You signed your contract last night. Talked to Syd for hours about it, planning next steps and goals and classes and budgets and a million other things. You’re both a little easily excitable, when it comes to lists and plans. Watching you sign yours gave her the ‘confidence’ to sign hers, if you can call it that. Not like you knew she needed the help, though.

“I love my life, I love my life, I love my life…” If you keep saying it while washing your face in the bathroom, it’ll become true, right? …Where’s Sara’s card again?

The Bear doesn’t run service on Mondays, so it’s a good day to do onboarding— Good day to do R and D. …What does one wear to R and D? Don’t need the serving uniform. Don’t need to dress up. Don’t need the jumpsuit… This is the first time you don’t need a uniform and that is bizarre.

You’ll wear your dad’s flannel, at least. Feels illegal to not wear the patch worked flannel. But besides that, you’re just a normal… restaurateur… part of the team…

Your hand hovers over where your necklace sits, in the small jewellery box on your vanity. “Mikey, if you want me to keep wearing it, make my ceiling cave in or some shit.”

You give it ten seconds and nothing falls. With a curt nod to no one, you pick up your book bag filled with loose tools and the menu filled notepad. Leave your bedroom, put your shoes on, grab your keys out of your clay dish tray on the way out.

It’s snowing.

That’s a lot of stuff falling, so to speak.

That’s basically a sign. That’s basically what you asked for.

You head back in, grab the necklace, hook it over your neck, and tuck it under your shirt. Baby steps. You head back out.

…And then soon after, head back in— Forgetting one of the most important things you need today. “The fucking glass, goddamn it!”

There’s a chance that today might be a little bit of an off day for you. No one’s gonna notice that, though.

“Mikey, why didn’t you tell me? You want me to look stupid on my start day, don't you? Fucker.”

You’re good. You’re you. You figure shit out. You’re compartmentalising perfectly and no one’s gonna be able to tell that you’re internally scrambling to figure out where you're gonna live once your lease gets terminated.

“ ‘Sup with you?” Okay, so Tina did immediately notice upon opening the back door for you. She tries to help you with the huge sheet of plexiglass you’re carrying, but you wave her off, stumbling further inside The Bear. Thankfully it’s a slow start to the morning, so the walk way is clear for your fumbled steps.

“I got it, T, just spot me—”

“Woahwoahwoah—” But alas, immediately Carmen is rushing over, making a big deal over nothing, “Fuck are you doin?” And grabs the thick sheet of glass from you. “Wait by your car next time, why do I gotta keep tellin’ you?”

“I am very capable—” You grunt, but you’re relieved when he takes the weight off you. You nod to the table in front of expo. “Put it on the island.”

“What’s it for?” Carmy asks but he follows direction without hesitation.

“Syd’s idea.” You walk with him, sidling up to Syd who’s already stationed up on the island with what looks like way too much paperwork for Chefs. You bump her shoulder as a greeting, she bumps you back. She lifts up the stack of papers and you pick up her deli container of Coke and ice, letting Carmen slide the glass onto the table.

“Unless it’s bad—” You correct, putting the cup down and digging through the tool bag on your shoulder for the right parts. “If you hate it, then it’s my idea.”

Syd snorts next to you, putting the papers back down on top of the glass. “Nice save.”

“What’s your idea, Chef?” Carmen taps his fingers against the glass, bemused.

You finally fish out two lock hinges from your bag, gesturing to them with a little flair like you’re Vanna White as Sydney explains. “For R and D. Thought since we’re like— Constantly changing shit and needing to review, it’d be like, useful to have a whiteboard— But those are huge and inconvenient for a restaurant— Duh— So—”

“Glass!” You come in with the assist as she rambles on. “On hinges— These one’s lock so you can have the glass sort of tilted up like an easel, or on the station— And then when you start service you can just flip it down off the counter for the night. Easy!”

“And—And—” Like a TV ad, Syd points out, “We can put paper under it and still be able to see— So it’ll make editing clearer— I-I think.”

Carmen always takes a nerve-wracking amount of time to think through other’s ideas, but once he nods, you both breathe easy. “Smart idea. Thank you, Chefs.”

You just smile, and this seems to bother Carm. Or at the very least, something is bothering him, as he frowns. “You got a second?”

Your brows furrow, for a moment, worried. You nod, putting your tools down. Glass can wait. “Always.”

Carmen comes around the counter, before he pulls you aside, Syd whispers over your shoulder, “Trouble in paradise.” Making you snort. When has it ever been paradise?

The two of you lean across from each other in the doorway of Carmen’s office, not quite in, not quite out. He looks worried, and his worrying is making you worry. He’s first to say something, concerned hand on your shoulder.

“Are you good?”

Fuck, he caught you too? “Hmm? Yeah, I’m good, do I not—”

You’re halfway through your response when he interrupts, he seems even more panicked by your words. His hand abandons your shoulder. “Right— Stupid, stupid fucking question— I just— Sorry—”

“Woah—” You grip both his shoulders, rubbing down his sleeves lightly. “Are you good, Carmy? You’re right, sweets. You caught me. I’m a lil’ off today. What gave me away?”

“Right, yes— You’re nice.” He’s saying it more to himself than you, like he needs to remind himself. Even so, it still hitches your heartbeat. “I— I’m good, I was just—You didn’t text me back this morning.”

“Oh.” You say it so breathlessly, with relief. It’s cute that that’s what’s got him freaking. “Sorry, yeah, I’ve been trying to not look at my phone, I just got some…” You shake your hand in the air for effect. “Bleh news. Put a wrench in some things for me, that’s all.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Ah—” You shake your head, waving it off, “Too much to get into. Later, though?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whenever you want.” He nods. “Ah, I wanna get into uhm—” Carmen snaps his fingers a few times, finding the words. “Get into drinks, today. I made all the concentrates and syrups ahead of time—But Uncles gonna come in first with The Computer to go over some numbers shit— Should be here in thirty?”

You nod, squinting. “Is it like… A special computer or something?”

“Computer is a guy.” Carmen says, while Syd yells the same in tandem with him, “Why wouldn’t he be!?” Walking past you both as she carries produce out of the walk-in.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” You grin, reiterating. Your smile soon sobers though, as you finally notice a giant silver blob of machinery behind Carmen. “Baby, what the fuck is that?” 

You’re already walking past him, quickly winding up all over again. It’s a gorgeous espresso machine— “It’s an Ascaso.” Explains Carmen. “It’s the best.” And it’s sitting exactly where your beautiful beat up mistake of a heavily-stained coffee machine used to be. 

“Baby, baby, baby—” you’re looking above and below the station for your rusted companion, hushed and panicked. “Don’t tell me you threw away the old one—” 

“You want the old one?”

Richie’s timing is perfect, as he walks in from front of house, and even from just hearing the last sentence, “Fuckin’ told you, Carm.” He knows the context. He keeps walking— On a mission, seemingly.

“I’m grateful— I- I am.” You kneel down and shove some mixing bowls aside to see if it was tucked in the back of some shelf— It’s not here. She’s not here. “New is good— New is nice— I’ll learn how to use the new one— I will— But— I— I need the old one— You didn’t throw it away, did you?” 

When he stays silent, you turn and look up to Carmen from where you’re crouched on the ground, pleading. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I— I—” The Chef is nearly sweating from this line of questioning alone. “It— It barely worked—”

“I know it didn’t! That’s the point!”

He blinks. You just seem to be saying all his trigger phrases, today, huh? “That’s the point?”

“I knew how she worked.” You push yourself back up onto your feet. “It’s got an espresso function that doesn’t work, if you tamp the basket the basket literally breaks off so you have to hold it and burn your hand a little— You have to hold the hot water button at the same time as the grind button for some reason or it won’t dispense— It’s literally a fucking nightmare— I covered it in like ten sticky notes of instructions at one point and they became pointless because no one but me was willing to use it. And— And I’ve got it memorized.”

“...And you want that?”

“No one’s gonna know how to take care of her, she’s my baby!” You gesture, albeit a bit too dramatically, speaking with your hands. “If you throw her away or donate her, no one’s gonna take the time to figure it out— They’re just gonna think she’s broken but she’s not, she works! She just needs the right hand!”

A dull silence falls between you, as Carmen purses his lips, squinting. There’s an ever slight chance your ‘I’m totally fine’ facade is cracking. “...Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your thing right—” 

“I’m good!” “...Okay.” “Did you get rid of her?”

“Relax, Handy!” Carmen does not say this. 

You grimace, looking behind Carmen to see Chi-Chi yelling from around the bend, in The Beef’s corner territory. Looking over him with the blue apron calling you your least favourite nickname by far— Well, second least favourite, only to— “She’s over here, Jack-Off. More our speed than rich boy’s ack - queso bullshit…” It’s nostalgic. Bad nostalgic but nostalgic. 

He slaps the top of the machine, you and Carmen both wince as a random spigot falls off it. Chi-Chi clicks his tongue, staring at it in silence. “...Refresher would be good, though.”

You’re already walking back to your damaged darling, patting Carmen on the shoulder as a form of goodbye, he pats your hand back. You don’t get to see him smile, as he watches you get to work. “Don’t fuckin’ call me Jack-Off and don’t touch her, I’ll show you, I’ll break your hand Cheech, I swear—”

The man in question shrugs, a devilish and terrible smirk on his stupid face. “Ey, love a woman in charge. Show me the ways.” 

Even on your most off days, working with The Beef will always be second nature for you. Even when the space is significantly more cramped than it used to be. 

You rewrite directions on how to use the coffee machine while showing them to Ebra and Chi-Chi. Ebra tends not to learn new tricks, so he stops listening by the time you get to syrups. That’s fine. No one ordered syrups in their coffee at The Beef back in the day all that often either.

Mikey really shouldn’t have invested in all those syrups back then. He really only did it for you and the staff. To be fair, when he did convince regulars to try your coffee they always changed their tune. The people don’t know what they like yet. They will like this. You were his proof that that idea was true.

“You gotta toss these, Boss. Slows you down.” You overhear Cheech saying behind you. You turn to see his arm on Ebra’s shoulder, holding the small blue baskets for sandwiches in his other hand. “Just the wrapping is fine. These people are gonna throw this shit out anyways, waste of plastic.”

Cheech turns his head to you, “Right, Handy?”

“...Don’t call me Handy.” Don’t freak out about throwing the old stuff away. Don’t freak out about throwing his old stuff away. You shrug, looking at Ebra over your shoulder. “Maybe just offer them, if they ask for one?”

“Y’know what the people are asking for, babe?” Cheech sucks his teeth, pulling Ebra closer, who looks nonplussed. “They’re asking where the nearest brick is to throw through our window. This rich people shit is getting on their nerves.”

You sigh, eyes flitting to Ebra for confirmation. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, nodding. “Ninety-eight percent, Jack-Off.” Cheech and the gang have been a terrible influence. How are you going to undo this?

“C’mon, E…” You scoff, but nod as you turn around, arms crossed. Gesturing with the frother as you do. “Well, I’ll make note of that. Now back to the fuckin’ hand frother, Cheech?”

“I know how to crank it, Handy—” “I swear to fucking God—”

“Ey!” Tina comes up to your corner, smacking the back of Chi-Chi’s head with a hand towel when she does. “Don’t talk to the baby like that, clean your mouth.”

He puts one hand on the back of his head, hissing, and another up in front of him, in defense. “Ey, T, it’s all love, aright? Playing!”

“Yeah well, you’re not gonna wanna play wit’ this one. ‘Specially not now—” She nudges you, smiling that coy ‘I’m about to blow up your spot’ smile.

You grimace, attempting to interrupt her. “T, don’t—” “That she’s Jeff’s.” “—Goddamnit.”

“Oh! Oh shit!” Cheech laughs, delightfully shocked. “You finally closed on Charmin’? Congrats—” It’s a blessing and a curse that Carmen, the guy you only ever saw in photos and heard in stories that you had a very minor and not vocal crush on, is now your… boyfriend? Undetermined.

You wave a hand in his face, “Shut the fuck up—”

“So where should I send flowers?”

You hate this family. “For the record, I have not closed shit.”

“What’s closing?” Tina takes a half step back, surveying your face, it doesn’t reveal anything. “What’s that? Gramps?” She turns her question on Ebra, who shrugs, equally as old and unknowing. 

“Well Jack-Off’s a little Mother Mary for my taste—”

You scoff, “So not true, for the record—” but Chi-Chi continues his tirade. “So I suspect she just means they haven't had the ‘are we datey-wating carmy baby?’ talk.”

You all but growl, crossing your arms as you wait for the second tutorial coffee to finish dispensing from the beloved whirring machine behind you. You can get the fuck out of here as soon as it’s done, and you’re praying that’s soon, because this interrogation is about to turn terrible. “We are currently unlabelled, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

Tina kisses her teeth, poking at your shoulder. “Richie told me you spent the whole wedding together and you come back with no label?”

You sigh, composure falling apart. You are not ready for a mother’s disappointment. “We talked out a lot of important stuff—” “Mija, that is important stuff!”

“I just— We’ll talk eventually—” 

Chi-Chi conveniently interrupts you when it looks like Tina’s about to go off into a full rant on the downfall of romance in modern relationships. “So you’re still on the market, Handy?”

“For you?” You smile, then drop it. Pushing your hand against his forehead. “Never. Now froth the fucking milk.”

He mumbles an endless series of expletives, but gets to work. You give him a quick tutorial on the hand frother— You fought hard for the old machine, but you are overjoyed to see an automated steamer and frother on that Ascaso. That part is gonna be a dream. You can make so many new drinks for Carm— The menu. 

When you finish, you take the latte from Cheech to hand to Tina; and when you do, you catch her looking… off. She’s staring at the piled up diner baskets, next to the unused napkin dispensers. 

You put your hand on her shoulder, massaging it lightly. “You good, T?”

Your hand shocks her back into reality, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, baby.” It takes her a second to remember where she is. She takes the latte, nodding. “I’m good. You good?”

“I’ve got my complaints.” You shrug. “But nothing I won’t survive.” Probably.

Tina takes a sip of her coffee, continuing to nod. She wants to dig deeper into your thing, you want to dig deeper into hers, but the painful groaning from the front of the kitchen, “And when did I fuckin’ greenlight this?” interrupts both your trains of thought. Uncle Jimmy tends to have that effect.

With a knowing nod, you walk together to the front, leaving Ebra and Cheech to continue experimenting with the coffee machine before they open their side of the restaurant. 

You watch from the sidelines as Carmen defends his choices, “The old one was shit, she was burning her hands on it. She’ll need the three groups to keep up.” and you’re able to quickly glean they’re talking about the new espresso machine.

“Okay, I hear that,” Jimmy nods, “but why the fuck did it need to be ten grand?”

“Ten?!” You can’t help but shout, you slap your hand over your mouth. Budget is none of your business. But fucking ten? You part your fingers to mumble through your hand,  “Sorry, continue.”

Carmen cares too much about your drink menu. Berzattos tend to invest too much into your special interests. Though this time, instead of syrups, and in addition to a 10k coffee machine, you see on the stainless steel table your shared sketches laid out alongside all the ingredients needed– Including the concentrates, whips, and other compounds Carmen made ahead of time for you. He’s so sweet. God, you love him. God, that’s disgusting. They have all, of course, been haphazardly shoved aside though, to make room for The Computer’s— Computer. Carmy’s nonplussed by that fact, it seems.

Jimmy gestures to you, deadpanning to Carm. “See, Chip understands the power of the dollar.”

“I’m not involved.” You add, waving your hand, it’s a terrible moment for your favouritism to shine through. Though you do enter the radius of this trainwreck of a quarterly review, kneeling down by the kitchen island to finish what you started with the plexiglass and hinges. “Ignore me, continue.”

The men stand on either side of you, as you bolt down the hinges. Carmen brushes off the dollar comment with a simple, “It’s the best.”

Why do you need the best? You think; Jimmy concurs with your brain, speaking for both of you. “Why do you need the best?”

The question seems to make no sense to Carmen. He freezes, blue-screening. “Cause—”

You duck your head under the counter at just the right moment— Or just the wrong moment? Because you don’t get to see Carmen looking down at you, then back up at his uncle. “Because.” 

You don’t see Uncle Jimmy practically roll not just his eyes but his entire body back into himself, witnessing the puppy love that is going to ruin his credit score. “Chip…”

When you slide yourself out from under the counter, Carmen puts his hand on the edge of the counter to make sure you don’t hit your head— Because you have an awful tendency to do so. You’re too focused on the way Uncle Jimmy says your name like you’re in trouble to notice though. “What’d I do?” 

“You’re you.” Jimmy grimaces, shaking his head. It’s not your fault. Not completely. “F-Y-I– Your boss just cut your bar budget by ten grand.”

“Hm.” You squint, lips in a line. “And what do I do if the budget I was planning was just ten grand?”

“Well respect yourself more than that.” Cicero scoffs, arms crossed. “Take twenty, now you’re back to ten. You’re welcome.”

“Generosity knows no bounds.” You shake your head, laughing him off as you duck your head back under the counter. “Thank you, Unc.”

“Sorry, who exactly are we giving twenty thousand?” 

“Oh fuck—” Despite Carmen’s best efforts, you still manage to bump your head on the roof of the counter, alarmed by the new voice— The Computer, you assume. “Fuckin—Ow— Sorry! Y’know what, hol’ on, let me just finish up here—”

“It’s the drink budget. Tony’s the new mixologist.” Natalie answers for you. “And sommelier.”

“Ah,” hums The Computer. “She’s the one we’re paying Quarter-Master for?”

“Nah, that’s me.” Gary strolls by, calling out to wherever his manager has gone, “Richie, you find that book yet?!”

“I’m taking them too!” You finally pop your head out from underneath the counter, finished bolting in the hinges. “Apparently I need actual W-S-E-T certification and a bunch of memorized google searches, youtube videos, and wine review blogs do not legally make you a sommelier.”

“I think it’s impressive you made it this far on basically nothing.” Syd taps the top of your head, she’s the one who made the call on schooling. She looks to her co-owner. “Classes are coming out of the advanced.”

“So is this.” You tap the plexiglass, nodding up to Carmen as well. “You’re workin’ with like… A thousand left for pre-paid work?”

“Hm.” Carmen nods, looking at The Computer, and you turn your head to him too. “Did you account for that?”

“Did I account for a thousand dollars?”

Carmen shakes his head like a white flag immediately, hearing the sarcastic tone, “Alright, you don’t—”

“A thousand dollars does not take you out of the hole, man.” He’s right, but you don’t love the tone. He tilts his head, reading something off his screen. “Payroll is a little high, for a somme.”

“I don’t disagree—” You try to say, because yeah, your contract does have a weirdly high salary.

But Jimmy, Nat, and Carm all speak over you. “It’s not.”

“That’s not pay for a somme, that’s a pay for Chip, you don’t need to enhance on that.” Jimmy deads the topic then and there. “You’ll see. Just trust me. You were sayin’ somethin about tiny plants?”

“Microgreens.” Says Syd. 

“Yes. Do less of that.”

And you just watch, from the sidelines, as this crew flows into a bit of a repetitive we’re doing this, which gains the response, well stop. Do less, charge more, figure it out, duh, don’t duh– What’s that you’re hearing about a daily changing menu? Carmen seems to be the only one campaigning for it. At a point he just starts pacing, pointing at numbers on The Computer’s screen that he doesn’t understand but pretends he does.

You’ve got a million ideas, but it’s none of your business. It very literally isn’t your business, until Jimmy turns his head just so, grimacing at the non stop debate, to see you standing aside, arms crossed.

He sighs, beckoning you to the table, like it’s a witness stand. “What’s that fuckin’ face on your face, kid?” Oh, for the love of God, why are you so easy to read?

You pfft, shrugging. “I’m not makin’ a face—!” But you come forward nonetheless as he boldly speaks over you. 

“You’re makin’ a face,” — “This is just what I look like,” — “Y’know how I know you’re makin’ a face?” — “Enlighten me.” — “Cause it’s the same fuckin’ face—”

He takes this moment to point at the face on your face. “That your dad makes.” A man that gambles as well as Cicero is a man that knows your dad’s tells. And a man that knows your dad’s tells is a man that knows your tells. 

You bite down on your inner cheek, poorly pretending to be confused, shrugging again, “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Come off it.” “I’m not on anything, Unc—” “You’ve got a problem, say it.” 

“I don’t have a problem!” You have a lot of problems, but they can’t know that. That makes you judgy and pushy— You don’t know enough about the business to have an opinion. “I’m just observing, that’s all.”

Uncle looks up, to Heaven, to Mikey, and sighs the world’s heaviest sigh. It sounds painful. When he finally tilts his head back down to you, it’s to say, “C-K.”

“Cicero.”

“Y’know why I’m able to pour mas queso into this fuckin’ kid?” He loosely gestures in the direction of Carmen, who in response seems to bite down a lot of venom. It’s bad to think he’s pretty when he’s annoyed, isn’t it?

You tilt your head, “Honestly, I always assumed some sort of mob association.”

Jimmy holds back his laughter, it comes out as a disgruntled cough. He shrugs. “It’s because when I saw your dad at the table, makin’” —He gestures to you— “That fuckin’ face, I knew to pull back.”

“You don’t need to pull back.” Your reply is a touch too panicked and instant for anyone’s liking, makes it a little less believable. But Cicero smirks, and you know that face as well as he knows yours. Check. He’s got you. 

“Then speak on it.” And he pushes you forward, just slightly, like a slap of support on your back. You grimace, looking to Carm and Syd for permission to have opinions, and they both nod, like it’s obvious. With great hesitation, lips pressed together, you finally allow yourself to come off as judgy, opinionated, a fixer. 

“I think the chargers are kinda stupid.”

A plate no one eats off of, that they still have to clean, that’s on top of another plate? Definitely super necessary. Definitely not some rich people NOMA bullshit.

You look to Syd, apologetic. She shrugs, open mouthed, head tilted, “I– I mean, I didn’t invent them.” 

“It’s presentation.” Carmen nods, to himself. He doesn’t like to budge. “That first look at the table affects everything.”

“Yes.” You nod, directly across the counter from him. “I agree, I just think the plates are stupid.” 

“You got somethin’ better?”

“Think so.” You hum, tilting your body back to yell to the back of the restaurant. “Ay, Cheech! Pass me a fuckin’ basket!” 

It’s without hesitation that you hear, “Hut!” before even seeing the man. You see the blue basket being hurled towards you before you see the man. You catch it, albeit a bit clumsy, but you catch it. 

You toss the basket on the table. Everyone stares. You defend yourself before anyone even criticizes it, “Easier to clean than plates, because you just need to rinse the plastic. Ties together a colour scheme, costs nothing, they’re gonna be tossed anyways.”

“It looks cheap.” Carmen tuts, but he really does seem to be trying to hear out the idea, despite his reservations. 

“It looks purposeful.” You double down, leaning on the counter just so, “It carries a story, that we didn’t forget where we started.”

“Ooh.” Marcus, clocking in just in time, hums behind you. “Kind of a bar, Chef.”

“Thank you, Chef. Morning, Chef.” You fist bump him over your shoulder, not looking. Too focused on convincing the man before you, you let him think in silence for some time before asking. “Think on it?”

“No.” Carmen shakes his head, and you’re a little crestfallen, for a second. “It’s good. Let’s do the baskets, yeah—” He then remembers to ask for permission, he turns his head to Syd, “Yeah?”

“Yeah? Oh, uh. Yeah. Yeah. Baskets are good.” Syd nods to Nat. “Can you look into, uh—”

“Returning the expensive as fuck earthenware shit? Happily.” Nat is far too cheery upon receiving a paperwork rabbit hole of a mission. She brushes past you, excitedly whispering, “Please keep going.”

“Oh, uh—” Are you some sort of thought leader now? “Well, uhm, I think I heard you sayin’” —You snap your fingers at The Computer, “That R and D cost is a little high?”

“A lot high.” He corrects.

“Kid with crayons.” Jimmy tuts, “Need to pull back a little.”

Carmen’s screwing and unscrewing the cap of a mason jar— Marmalade, it’s for Syd’s drink. He made it this morning, it’s labelled down to the minute.  Just let him work on his fucking drinks menu, please God. He’s been dying for this moment and it’s being thrown off by this bullshit. 

He can’t keep biting his tongue, “Hey, uh, why don’t you just tell us to do everything a little bit less so we can skip this and get back to work, huh?”

You hear Uncle Jimmy inhale as preparation to verbally beat Carmen’s ass. You put one hand up in front of the old man’s face, the other hand grabs a dry-erase marker. “He didn’t mean it like that and he apologizes, Unc.”

“Does he now?”

“He does.” You drop your hand, focusing on lifting the glass panel, clicking the locks in place to keep it up. You nod to Carmen through the pane. “Right, Carmy?”

Poor Carmen nearly deflates, “...I’m tryna be the guy.” 

“Not what the guy does, baby boy.” You hum, uncapping the marker with your teeth. You turn your head to Cicero. “Guy had a lapse, he forgot you were his boss and just thought of you as family, so he spoke to you like family, cause he loves you, Unc.”

Cicero nods, tilting his head just so at Carmen. “S’that right?”

Carm manages to shake his head and nod all at the same time, “S’a facet.” 

“....Well, just don’t do it again.” A crisis is averted and an uncle is softened. 

“I love to see a family come together.” You hum, nonchalant, writing on the glass, ‘R & D - Cost: Bad’

“Bring it from bad to good.” The Computer notes very helpfully. “You can cut—”

“Hol’ on.” You put your index finger up, effectively shushing him, “Just think about it first. We don’t have to go straight to cutting. Let’s look at our options.”

“Your options are fucked.”

“Just—” You tut, rubbing the bridge of your nose, man, you really are becoming your dad right now. Loosen your grip, Jack. “Widen the scope. We cut costs through returning those chargers— How else can we ‘return’ shit? Carmy?”

Thank God you’re the guy, because Carm can’t hack it. “Heard? Yes?” And frankly, he doesn’t want to.

“What’s the main cost on R and D?”

“Supplies. Food— Y’know, lot of trial and error.” He nods to a bus tub filled with failed attempts over this morning’s session. But you like that, right? “Trying new things, y’know?”

“...Carmen.” He doesn’t answer, because he can hear he’s in trouble. He is staring at you stare at the tub in what seems like a sort of contemplative, serene, searing anger. “Sweetheart, are those four wagyu filets in a fuckin’ bus tub?”

“Yes, it’s got a blood orange reduction, but– But Syd suggested mint—” 

You don’t let him finish, “Is it poison?”

“It’s not.” “It’s edible?” “It is.” “Okay, so then, babydoll, why is it not being eaten?”

Syd winces from the sidelines, hissing under her breath, fist over her mouth. Carmen cannot help but notice. You’re perhaps… a dash upset.

“We can’t eat everything.” “Did you offer it to the crew?” “Yeah—” “You offered it to Nat, Unc, Cheech— All the servers? Or did you just offer it to the cooks?” “...Heard.” “Did you take a bite of all of these?” “Not all.”

You start writing on the glass again, explaining as you do, “Okay. So then uneaten food from R and D should be sold on one of those fuckin’ food waste apps— Too Good to Go, or somethin’. We advertise it to The Beef regulars, try to get the other side of our city to understand the finer things, prevent any brick through window incidents, how we feel ‘bout that?”

You remember small things far too well. You did make note of the rich people shit getting on The Beef customers' nerves. You make note of the people who live on your block, who cannot afford to eat here. You make note of the fact that Carmen resents subtracting with a passion now, so you find another way. He can still try new things, just needs to handle the results better. 

“...You keep a binder or somethin?” Is all Carmen can think to ask. 

“Steel trap memory.” You tap the cap of the marker to your head, “Good though?”

He nods, “Good.”

“Good.” You take a breath, dragging a hand down your face, practically coming out of a fugue state. Carmen knows your need to have something to do, just as much as him, so he slides the jar of fig marmalade to you from across the table. You take it happily, unscrewing the lid. You’ve also been dying to get to this menu.

But Richie comes up from behind, scratch and sniff wine book in hand— Didn’t Mikey get you that? It  was meant to be a gag gift but it’s actually quite useful. “Chip, can you also tell Chef Carmen the daily menu fuckin’ sucks?”

“Re-lax.” You sigh, pulling over all the ingredients and tools you need for Syd’s drink. “Syd told me ‘bout this though, daily pre fixe, or whatever it’s called?”

“It’s—” Carmen crosses his arms over himself, immediately defensive but trying his best not to be. “It’s an idea I’m floating, for now— It’s what the best restaurants do, and— And even if we don’t have full intent on getting a star, right now, it’s still important.”

“I just think…” You hum, trying to figure out the most delicate way to say it. “It doesn’t exactly give you the most room to collaborate or create—”

“The whole point of it is to collaborate and create—”

“Oh yes,” —As if waiting in the wings for this, Richie pops out behind you again, “What wasssit? ‘Vibrant Collaboration’ and ‘Constantly Evolve Through Eating My Own Head like a fucking ouroboros’.”

“Relax.” You hiss this time, putting a hand up in front of Richie. You can speak for yourself. “You don’t have time to be creative or collaborate when you’ve gotta make decisions in less than twelve hours.”

Carmen tries to defend, he gestures to the one good plate of wagyu with mint that came out of this morning, “But the—”

You nod and hum, knowingly. The sweet sound stops him. You already know the answer, but you ask anyway, as you scoop fig marmalade into your cocktail shaker. “Did you get to try the pop rocks thing yet?”

“Well, no, it’s not viable to perfect that in such—”

“A short amount of time, angel?”

“Oooh…” Richie mimics Syd’s movements, air whistling between his teeth as he takes a sharp breath. He gestures, standing behind you, staring at Carmen as he slides his thumb across his neck. He mouths, ‘Mad mad.’

Carmen’s two closest friends are freaking him the fuck out and one of them wasn’t even doing it on purpose. How do they know that? How can they tell that? Are you gonna break up with him? Are you even dating? This work together thing was a terrible idea—

“You don’t have time to be thoughtful about things, if you do an entire menu every day, you’re gonna have to cut corners on what you’re willing to experiment with.” You reword, more productive, better for his brain. “Plus, prix fixe is a fuckin— In—In my opinion, is sort of a lacking idea, maybe, for a new restaurant.”

Carmen’s willing to give up the daily rotation, he’s not so willing to give up the pre fixe. “It’s what the best restaurants do.” Carmen loves the word best, huh?

“Have those restaurants—” You bite your tongue from what was going to be an immediate catty response.

You try again, measuring out orange liqueur and lemon juice as you do so. “You’re thinking like a Chef and you need to think like a customer— A- A guest, for a second.”

Carmen gives you the floor, mostly because he cannot compute the command. You continue, “Let’s do a little roleplay, alright? Let’s say we’re just average people, not workin’ at The Bear, and we’re goin’ on a date.”

“When?” “...When?” “When is the date?” “No, I’m— It’s— This is hypothetical.” “Yeah but in the hypothetical.”

You shrug, clicking tongs together as you grab large chunks of ice for your shaker. “I dunno, Friday nights? We have like a Friday night date night.”

“Oh, so you’re doing good.” Richie hums, proud of this hypothetical you, “Weekly date night is a cornerstone.” 

“Moving on.” You elbow Rich behind you, shaker sloshing in hand, “I’m not a foodie, you are— In this hypothetical. You’re looking around at restaurants in the area for the date, you find The Bear— You find through their website with an improper hyperlink that the menu is,” —You list off on your free hand— “prix fixe, unavailable online, and changes daily so you can’t go off of reviews either. Also, it’s a new place, so you can’t really ask around for opinions.” 

“Right.” Carmen nods, as does Syd. Uncle Jimmy’s got that stupid smirk he gets when he sees his kids fall in line. You pour the ouzo over the ice, focus on the drink, not Carm’s mopey expression. 

“So, we probably wouldn’t go, right?”

Carmen keeps nodding, eyes downcast— Not upset, just can’t take feedback without keeping his head down. “Prob’ly not, yeah.” 

You pound the shaker shut, shaking it lightly in one hand as you try as hard as you can to sweetly explain. “People are open to like, two surprises on an outing. New place, new food— But they will need a set menu and they will need to have it available beforehand— And they’ll need to be able to choose.”

He looks like a cat in the rain, so you add, “But. Maybe we can do a daily special? Or weekly, depending on burnout, but like, y’know, a semi-frequent one new thing. And maybe on like, Valentines or some holidays we do a fresh prix fixe. That’s how some of the best places do it.”

Carmen’s eyes upturn, smiling with them, at that last part. “You do keep a binder.”

“Syd does. I just pay attention.” You shake your head. “She mumbled about it all night when we got back.” 

Adamu is immediately aghast, she should’ve realized ages ago, you were practically quoting her. “You said you couldn’t hear me!”

“No, I said you weren’t bothering me, and you weren’t.” You can’t hide your smile as you break the seal on the shaker. Syd sucks at sharing her ideas, but you’re happy to act as a good mouth for her good brain. “Hand me a lowball.” 

With a grumble, Syd walks off in search of  the lowball; while everyone does seem to agree this is best practice, Carmen does still seem a little sore about it.

“It’d probably also serve us well to do a seasonally rotating menu, right?” And so you throw him a bone. “Like Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall? Base it on what’s in season with local vendors?”

“What grows together goes together.” Tina says, nearly sing-songy. “Farmer’s market is rough though, Jeff.” 

“Fuck a farmer’s market— With love, fuck a farmer’s market.” Back to writing on plexiglass you go. “We gotta do vendors, maybe f’ like, eggs and dairy we can do farmer’s market, but it’s just not feasible. Maybe for holiday pre fixe or daily specials? But full stock, it’s just not— It’s not it. And I say that while having farm fresh eggs and local honey in my pantry, alright?”

Carmen agrees, like a bobble-head this guy. He nods to Tina. “That cool with you, T?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool with me.” Tina is a millisecond off to pipe in, which is really not noticeable– To anyone but you, that is.

“Why’s— Why would T not be good with that?”

“She’s in charge of farmer’s market.” 

“Hm.” You bite the end of the dry-erase marker. “T, would you be cool with rotating that, now and again?”

“Ooh?” She tilts her head, shrugging, “Yeah, yeah, kid. If you wanna take the reins.”

“Not me.” You return to scribbling on the glass board. You point at Carmen and Syd through the glass. “Them.” 

“I’ve paid my sous chef dues.” Says Syd, returning to the table with your glass. You tut, shaking your head. You refocus your vision from your writing to beyond the plexiglass, at them. 

“You need it for inspiration! You fuckers keep forgetting you like cooking, I need you to visit the farmer’s market once in a while to remind you.” You take the lowball glass and tong a few ice cubes in. “Non-negotiable. Heard?”

A soft, simultaneous, “Heard, Chef.” from your cats. 

“Good.” You strain the mixed concoction out of the shaker, into the lowball glass. It’s a very pretty peachy pink. You tweezer a slice of dried fig and place it on top. You grab a toothpick, stick it down the glass, pull it out, and taste the toothpick. Balanced, solid flavour, should be good.

You slide the drink over to Syd. “I can’t drink everything obviously, so first dibs goes to whoever the drink is based on— I don’t care who drinks it, just let me know if it goes down smooth.”

You also in turn hand Syd the recipe card and sketch, and you’re quick to move on as she reviews and sips away.

Ouzo. Dry anise tasting spirit. It’s got a licorice aftertaste, but oddly sweeter for it. It’s strong. Resilient. It’s made from remnants of unfermented wine grapes and a mix of other distilled and unused spirits. Better than the sum of its parts. It goes well with figs. Muddle it together with fig marmalade— Sweet yet earthy, spring-like. Orange liqueur to marry the flavours, lemon juice to brighten. Shaken, pour over ice into a lowball, serve with a dried fig on top.

Syd manages to reserve her reaction to a slow but repetitive nod, like entering deep space. She only comes back to reality when Richie reaches for the drink, wanting to try. She’s quick to pull it away from him, coveting the glass. 

“Ah… what else? Rapid fire.” You knock your head around, remembering what The Computer talked about, and in quick succession, you line up every problem and talk through them, possibly solve them— As best as a newbie can. At the very least, you open the floor to actual discussions as you make drinks all the while. 

“Opening a full sixth day I think will shoot us in the long run, especially if we ever get a kitchen plague going. Maybe we just open for half the day on Mondays going forward, try out breakfast? Stop booing me, I’m right.”

Richie’s. Also served over ice in a lowball. It’s similar to a whiskey smash. Nixing the mint. Whiskey bourbon— A good one, but not too good that it’s a sin to mix. Something with a cinnamon spice, that's warm all the way down, but never burns. Water it down a bit by stirring peach juice over the whiskey with ice for a brief moment. Float blueberry syrup on top. Add a toothpick, spearing two blueberries and one peach halve, balance it over the glass, for stirring. So the drinker can mix the blueberry syrup in and have a cute colour changing experience. 

“Wine pours, me and Gary got that. We can also just start charging by the bottle by default— Whatever works.” 

Marcus’. Simple but effective. A rum and coke ice cream float. Made complex by the fact that the ice cream is on a rotating schedule, based on whatever Chef Brooks is feeling that night and what’s in stock. Right now? Pistachio. So tonight it’s actually rum and seltzer, and it will probably continue to be rum and seltzer, based on the way Marcus’ eyes light up by the opportunity to get weird. More often than not, you’re going to need that neutral base. Served in a milkshake glass, because what else?

“I don’t understand why I couldn’t just grow these microgreens myself in house. They’re just plants you murder early, are they not? Am I missing something?”

Tina’s. Varied take on a spiked agua fresca. Fresh blended mango agua fresca— With ginger, of course. A healthy kick is a necessity for a mom drink. Sweetened with simple syrup, spiked with white rum, dash of agave bitters, top with coconut water. Served in a tall glass, because why would you skimp on portions?

“Why are we shipping flowers from New York? No, fuck that, go to Violet’s Violets— I fixed her cooler once, she falls in love and gives a discount to literally anyone who’s nice to her. Just send Marcus with some dessert and you’ll be set for life.”

And of course, Carmen’s aperol spritz. You go with the cherry syrup rim for now because it’s important to try. You’re almost certain it’s too much though.

“Napkins…” You rub your icy cold hands— From shaking up so many goddamn drinks— Over your eyes. “Why are we renting?”

“Buying is insanely overpriced.” Answers Computer. 

You nod, shrug, but nod, fingers tapping the glass, “Well, it’s like renting over owning right? It might be better to own because, y’know, you might suddenly get told by your napkin vendor, like, like years down the line, after basically paying for these napkins in full through rent, ‘hey, actually, we’re gonna jack up prices or just take those napkins back’ even though you’ve —again— Literally had them for years—”

“Chippy, are you good?” Richie tries to massage your shoulder, tries to break you out of the doom spiral, but admittedly, it was never his forte. Still isn’t. 

“We—!” Your voice hangs and is grating in a way it usually isn’t, ignoring the question. “We can produce our own napkins if we buy linens by the yard and hem ‘em ourselves. We—” You snap your fingers a couple times at Carmen, praying he backs you up. “We can even get The Bear monogrammed on them.”

“That sounds nice…” It’s Carmen’s turn to ease you off the ledge of insanity, gently. “It also sounds expensive, were you gonna do that?”

“Fuck no.” You’re quick to shake your head. “I fucking suck at sewing, my own jumpsuit is covered in my blood— No, my—” Oh. “Hold on.”

Your hand immediately goes for your back pocket, quickly pulling your cell-phone out, and dial one of your first starred contacts. Richie, over your shoulder still, sipping his blueberry and bourbon cocktail, excitedly mumbles. “Oh, put it on speaker.”

You’re annoyed before he’s even answered, knowing the headache you’re about to get. “Trust me, the first thirty seconds minimum will not need—”

“Hey!” It’s impossible to convey how earth shatteringly loud and drawn out his voice is, immediately upon answering. There may be eight seconds of the sustained vowel? Maybe more. Almost everyone flinches, par for Syd, Carm, and Rich. Though for all different reasons. 

A touch grating, in the same way your voice just was. Like father, like occasional daughter, you suppose. “Hey kiddo baby darling sweetheart angel princess—” Oh, he’s mad. The whole ‘slew of nicknames when you’re pissed off’ thing? Yeah, that didn’t start with you. “Did someone die? Because that’s the only reason my darling baby only daughter calls anymore!”

You sigh, immediately exhausted, putting your weight on one leg. “Y’know, once a month is honestly a lot of times a year for a fully grown woman to call their dad, on average. I absolutely call you more than my friends call their dads.”

Richie almost chokes and whispers over your shoulder, hesitant, internally preparing for a dreadful future. “Please tell me that’s not true.”

“Oh, and you should be so lucky that you have a dad to call! Cause I bet those friends are calling funeral homes, aren’t they?!”

“Dad—”

“I should have never taught you independence. Worst mistake of my life to teach you how to be your own person. Richard, never teach your kid how to use a screwdriver, it will be the last day you are a father.”

“Noted, Big C-K.” Richie goes for your dry erase to actually write it down, you pull it away from him. That’s gonna require a long talk down later. 

Carmen mouths to you, across the table, he meant to ask earlier when Cicero said it but there wasn’t time. ‘C-K?’

You mouth back, gesturing to the logo on your very own flannel ‘Chicago’s Kindest.’ He’s not the best with acronyms. 

“Oh— And thank you for bringing that up! And what’s this I hear about you cutting your hours with C-K? I hear this from Tony of all people ‘fore I hear it from you?”

“I got a long-term bartender gig that’s actually gonna keep my bills paid, alright? And I like it. Putting that mixology double trade major to good use. Cicero’s got stock in the place, actually.”

“How you doin’ C-K?” Cicero pipes in next to you, waiting for his moment.

“Ah… I’ve got my complaints. For one, my Jack keeps you more company than me!”

There’s a series of hums and haws, that weird uncle secret language of heavy exhales that manage to say more than any actual words they could say. 

You let the heaving run its course for ten seconds before cutting it short with, “Anyways, I’m still gonna keep the business running, just only in the mornings. It’s not like I brought in that much business anyway, I’m not pulling a foundation.”

“Everytime a small business dies, a rich man laughs, Jack!” 

“It’s not dying! It’s alive! It’s present and alive!” Don’t get flashbacks. “Anyways, speaking of small businesses, I need a favour—”

“Ooh, the truth comes out, princess calls cause she needs bail—” 

“For the love of God, let me get through a sentence, Pops!” You grumble, continuing. “Remember that overpriced monogram machine you bought for no reason?”

“It was not for no reason, it was invaluable because it saved my mitts from hand embroidering all those logos— And and— you have to remember—” You mouth the words along with him, mimicking him, because you know exactly what he’s going to say, “that it all starts in your community— And now you have like eight beautiful outfits, cause of me… And also it’s fun.”

“Well… If it’s fun, would you consider making some linen napkins?”

And it flows like ping pong, because your dad is a repairman— Well, former, but still. He’s simple. He handles negotiations simple. So do you.

“For who?” “Restaurant. The Bear.” “Why?” “Cause they need linen napkins.” “How many?”

You look over your shoulder to Richie, he does the math in his head pretty quickly, “Bout seventy to a hundred covers a night.”

“Six hundred.” “Pay?” “We’ll pay supplies, and I’ll give you like—” You look to Syd, expectantly. She has no answer, so you put your advanced on the line. “A thousand?”

“A thousand!? Less than a dollar a napkin! Is this pre-housing crisis?!” “I work here, okay?! Discount me!” “My God, princess, are you in love with the owner or something?”

That world feels like it's choking, but that's probably just you. You blow hot air out of your mouth, looking anywhere but Carmen. Refusing to see him even in your periphery. Refusing to see his blue screened but ever so slightly expectant expression. Well? Are you? …Or something?

After a long moment, you find a way to avoid the question. “Ah–Uh, Syd co-owns the place.”

“Oh, Adamu?!” 

Syd pipes in, leaning over the table. You hold the phone out for her. “H–Hey, Mr. CK.” She waves, despite the fact that it’s a phone call.

“Hey kiddo. Aw, what a sweetheart. Lead with her next time!”

“Alright!” You bring the phone back to your face— It’s remained off speakerphone this entire time, but he continues to yell loud enough for the table. “I didn’t realize you were best friends.”

“Of course we are. Y’know she brought me this uh– this salmon mushroom risotto the other night? Unbelievable.”

You squint at Adamu curiously, whispering. “You bring my dad food?”

She whispers in return, defensive. “He lives on my block, don’t be weird.”

“For her, I’ll do it for eight-hundred, okay kiddo? I know how tough it is to start up a business, can’t imagine trying to move on top of that.”

Your turn to blue screen. Moving? You’re immediately over the love thing. “...Pardon?”

“...I’ll do it for eight—”

“No– Yes, sorry, yes dad that’s great—” You arch the phone away from your face, focusing your attention on Syd. “Syd, you’re moving out?”

She sighs, “Trying to.”

“Pops.” You straighten up, not looking away from her. “I’ll call you back to sort details later, okay?”

“Sure. You also need to let me know holiday plans, are we going up to Oak Park or—”

Somewhat disrespectfully, you speak hurriedly, “Yeah, we’ll figure it out, love you, bye!” and hang up. Still locked on Syd, you ask. “When you tryna move?”

“Like, soon as possible.” She stretches out her shoulders. “My own dad is sort of… Encroaching on my space.” 

“Right.” Your eyes flicker with too many ideas, and you’re trying to temper expectations. “You wanna live by yourself?”

“I mean, I don’t really know anyone on the same timeline as me, with the same ‘low budget’ as me.”

The Computer attempts to interrupt the interruption of his review, holding a finger up, “And why are we talking about—”

But you hold the palm of your hand up, continuing on, “I need to move out asap and have a ‘low budget’.”

That’s Carmen’s queue to chime in, he loves your place. “What happened?” 

Also Richie’s, “What? Chip, your spot’s like a historical site, ya can’t move.” and this is generally agreed upon by a sea of dismayed voices.

“To make an extremely long story short, I don’t have a choice.” You wave your hand in the air, silencing murmurs. “My sweet old lady landlord— The only landlord I’ve ever respected, got bought out by a fuckin’ big business gentrification ass company— I’m not in a rent controlled zone so they’re gonna keep jacking the rent until I move out so they can tear it down and build a new spot— They also may or may not have found out that me and Loretta— My landlord— Haven’t exactly been keeping up to date on my lease.”

“Meaning?” Carmen knows the answer will be bad. 

But it’s somehow worse. “Meaning I pay my rent on time in cash and she texts me once a year saying ‘do you want to keep living here?’ and I say ‘yes’, and we continue on.”

“Well, hold up—” Richie holds a hand up, like he’s a genius. “Squatter’s rights?”

“I thought about going that avenue, but—” You gesture to Syd. “If you’re already moving, and looking for a roommate?”

She looks up and around, thinking about it. You decide to join her in the brainstorm, scooching yourself just an inch to the right, writing on free space on the plexiglass screen, ‘pros and cons’

“Pro.” You murmur as you write. “I have a better credit score than you.”

Syd sputters, half sarcastic. “Well, that’s just uncalled for.”

“It’ll give you more options for places! Better ones! Ones with in-unit laundry!” You defend.

“In-unit laundry…” “Your eyes just lit up in such a sad way.” “Con. You are an ass.”

“That’s a pro. A real con would be that I have a lot of plants and if I ever go on vacation I’m gonna need you to take care of them, and I’m not gonna have a binder for you, because I water them based on vibes, and if I come back and they’re dying I’m gonna be pissed off and very passive aggressive about it.”

“Violently honest.” “Pro. Mostly direct. Aside from when I’m not.” “Con. I’m not direct.”

“Con. That’s fine but if I get the idea that you’re mad at me I’m gonna act really weird about it until you reassure me that everything is okay and you don’t want to throw me out the window.”

“Yeah. Con. Same.”

“Pro. I’ve lived by myself for a while, which is good to have when you’re moving out of your parents for the first time. Con. I’ve lived by myself for a while, and I’m very used to the lifestyle of big t-shirt no pants, I’m not giving that up.”

Now that one takes Syd a second to unpack, “But, but like, underwear though, right—?”

“No shit I wear underwear!”

“Okay! It’s important to note!”

“Don’t be weird.” Richie grumbles behind you, solidly directed at Carmen.

Who’s whole face really just scrunches up in confusion. “‘Don’t be weird’? You don’t be weird.”

“I’m not bein’ fuckin’ weird—” “Then why are you up in my shit—” “Up in your shit? Oh wow—” “Fully not what I was referencing—” “Don’t be weird, cousin!” “I literally— I did not even move— Not a single cell in my body—” “And— And you only know that ‘cause you had to lock it down, you dog—”

“I don’t remember having kids, why the fuck am I in a Kindergarden?” Uncle Jimmy interrupts.

“I’m just takin’ care of my boy, Unc.” Richie raises a hand in defense, feigning innocence. “Can’t be too careful.”

“You super can, and you super are.” You grimace, elbowing him again. “And also, not important–!”

“Actually, no, very important.” Syd of all people interrupts. “Non-negotiable, like you can’t— …Like you— …When I’m home it’s like— Don’t—” Ah.

You roll your eyes and save her before she just about breaks out in a feverish sweat. “Syd, I wasn’t planning on it. That’s like roommate rule one.”

“Syd.” Richie points to his own eyes, then to hers, ‘watching you’. “Don’t be weird.”

“What the fuck—”

“Everyone shut up, pros and cons—!” You shout, gaining the attention back. “Pros. I have a car, we work at the same place, I have all the furniture for a living room already,  you'd never have to wait for a landlord to fix something ever again, and I could probably do a bunch of D-I-Y renter friendly projects, if you wanted.”

“...Oh my god, a French-door pantry.” “I think I could swing that.” “Pros. You’ll never have to cook again. I guess that’s my only pro, actually.”

“Con. I have been feeding the cat on my fire escape for like a year and if I’m moving I am going to have to adopt her, so we’re gonna have a cat. She’s cute, she has five toes on each paw. Something dactyl, it’s called.”

“What’s her name?” Squid’s not excited per se, but she’s not saying no. 

You shrug. “I never named her, let’s name her together.”

“No, that’s too much pressure—” “No, you’ll do great—” “What do you mean I’ll do great—?” “Three–” “Oh like together together? No! What—?!” “Shut up, just do it, head empty, two—” “No! I’m just not gonna say any—” “Yes you will, Squid. One!”

And together, perfectly in sync, like it was planned all along, you both say on queue, “Calamari!”

“There we go.” You write ‘Calamari’ on the plexiglass. “That’s my girl— That’s our girl, actually. I’m still not sure if she’s a girl.”

You click your tongue against your teeth, knocking your head back and forth in thought as you look at the scribblings on the glass. “Non-negotiables?”

Syd leans forward on the table, chin propped up in her hands. “I need forty-five minutes of bathroom time at the beginning of the day.”

“...Do you have a fuckin’ lactose intolerance?” “It’s my me time!” “Alright! Fuckin’ fifty minutes of toilet time for Syd. Ah, I need east facing windows… and uhm…”

Syd stares at you, and alas, she can tell, “You have a big non-negotiable…”

“It’s not that big… It’s more a group thing than a roommate thing, really…” “What is it?” “I think… It would be fun… If we all started playing Dungeons and Drag—” 

There’s an immediate, staggeringly loud array of groans, you’re still writing it down nonetheless, all the while defending, “I honestly think a little roleplay and math would fix you assholes! I really think it would! I’ll D-M, I’ll make it so easy— Please?”

Syd grimaces, but inevitably nods. “Y’know what, you’re never gonna get a concrete schedule for that down, and no one else is gonna agree so yes, sure from me.” Still a win. 

“Okay.” You hum, capping the marker. “So… Aim to move first of February? You down?”

It takes some time, and you realize as Syd’s brain frozen, that you might be overstepping. “Sorry, that’s going too fast, you think on it—”

“...I’m down.” You make it very easy for her to say yes, by giving her the option to say no. “Yeah, let’s do it. February. I’m down.”

“I’m so happy for you two, but I’m still fuckin’ reeling— Chippy, it’s– it’s— So many memories—” Richie’s being overly dramatic on purpose, hand on your shoulder, really laying on the vocal fry in his voice; but it is true. “I mean, come on, first time I’d ever been stabbed was on your block.”

“Sorry, what?” Carmen was having fun watching his two favourite employees figure out they’d be perfect roommates. He loves to be a fly on walls around you more than he’d like to admit. Richie managed to ruin it with one line. “Stabbed on your block?”

“Yeah,” You suck the air between your teeth, trying to think of some sort of white lie, but slowly shake your head, “I— Yeah, there’s no real way for me to down play it, I was so fuckin’ scared.”

“You were tweaking!” Richie laughs, clapping his hand against your shoulder, to him it’s a charming story— You’d probably be laughing too, if Carmen didn’t seem so… unpleased, let’s say. “You fuckin’ thought I was gonna die!”

“You fucking were!” You slap Rich’s hand away. “It was so close to a cerebral artery— First and last time I’ll administer stitches in my fucking kitchen, hand to God—”

“What’s the story?” Oh, new face from Carmen you haven’t seen before, bewildered annoyance, you’d describe it as, it’s going in your bottom five. “You live in a bad neighbourhood?”

“It’s rustic—” You try, but Richie opts to speak on your behalf. “Oh, Chip lives in a terrible neighbourhood, Cousin. You’ve been there, haven’t you?”

“Yeah but it didn’t seem that bad— No— Hold on, go back, stabbed why?”

“So I heroically defended a boy from crooked—” Richie tries, but you opt to speak on his behalf. “Richie was helping me bring up groceries, we saw some highschoolers shaking a kid down, Richie tried to break it up, one of ‘em stabbed him with one of those shitty switchblade comb things.”

“You got stabbed by a kid?” Syd snorts, but immediately regrets it because she has perfectly set him up for—

“Yeah, and wouldn’t be the last time, would it?”

“Richie, c’mon…” You reach up, patting the guy’s shoulder. “It was an accident and she apologized—”

Richie just raises his eyebrows, interrupting with a simple, “Mm-mm.” 

And so yours raise in tow, “...Fuck you mean ‘mm-mm’?” And your head turns to Syd, alarmed. “Syd, you apologized, right?”

Her mouth just sort of hangs, sputtering noises do come out of it, but nothing that strings a sentence together. You grow more agog, repeating again, astonished, nearly laughing from the shock, “Syd?! You apologized, right?! And told him it was an accident, right?”

Syd takes a beat, but she gets there. “I— I. Am. Sorry I stabbed you by accident, Richie.”

“Hm.” Richie crosses his arms, considering, mostly sarcastically. “Yeah, I’ll take it, I guess. Would’ve liked a card.”

“I am not getting you a card.” “I’m jus’ sayin’ I’d’ve liked one.”

Carmen’s still five steps behind, “Are you gonna be fine living there? In January?”

You choke back a laugh, because this is how men try to show they care, one must imagine. “I’ve been fine for the past handful of years living there, I think I’ll be fine for another month, sweetheart.”

“Crime is bad in January.”

“I was a first responder, and I know that’s not true.” You shake your head, shirking off laughter. “It’s actually in the summer that you see shit go down. Again, I will be fine. But you are free to visit.”

“Point of order.” The Computer finally pipes up again— Might’ve forgot he was here, if you’re honest. “What are we talking about anymore?”

“Point of order— I feel like numbers— Talking numbers is great but it’s all just like— Paper, y’know?” You unlatch the plexiglass, gently settling it back down on the table. “We should be talking more.”

Tina nearly whistles in agreement, nodding by your side. “Heavy that, Jeff.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’, like—” You snap your fingers to the rest of the crew, hand moving to and fro to point at everyone, “Did y’all know until right now that Syd was moving? …No, right? Let’s like— Fuckin’ remember to check in, like y’know, family, Chefs.”

And without calling her out, you can feel Tina’s demeanor next to you change, relaxed. 

“Heard, Chef.” Is the agreement from the crew, however, The Computer nor Cicero seem convinced, so with a sigh, you put on your most authoritative voice.

 “Y’know. Three Cs! Caring cuts costs!” A phrase no one has ever said, but it sounds legitimate when you put it like that. That gets them to acquiesce. 

Thank God, Marcus helps you move the conversation along, “...What’s everyone doing for the holidays?” Alas for both of you, the silence is deafening. “...Or not.”

You volley back for him, “If no one has hard plans I was thinking of having a lil’ Holiday party? Nothing big. Sort of a ‘goodbye old apartment’ party? Come by after you hang out with your families or whatever?”

“Not gonna go up to Oak Park?” Rich leans one arm on your shoulder, nursing his whiskey cocktail in the other. 

“Meh.” You shrug, attempting to push him off you, but he doubles down. “We’re not so intense about holidays since everyone’s aged. I’ll visit my nephew on New Years.” 

“I’m doin’ Eve with Eva, but I’ll be free on the day. I’ll come by. We doin’ gifts?”

“I mean I got you something, so,” You tap the bottom of his glass as Rich takes another sip, making him flinch. “Catch the fuck up.” 

Syd pipes in, sniffing. “Me and my dad only celebrate on Christmas Eve now, so I’ll come.”

“Incredible. Two down.” You gesture to Marcus and Tina across the table. “You guys? Tina I assume you’ve got a loving family and shit?”

Tina smiles and nods, rightfully proud. “I do have a loving family and shit, but maybe I’ll come by late with them too?”

And Marcus tacks on with her, “I’m gonna be with my mom most of the night, but I’ll come through for a couple hours.”

“Perfect, perfect. Invites open to any plus ones as long as you text me first!” You hum, writing names down on the glass board. It’s kind of a nightmare of different lists at this point. “Richie, can you make sure Fak and Sweeps get the invite?”

“Yessir.”

“And us!?” Shrieks Cheech in the back, who really shouldn’t be able to hear you, he should be in the zone, slinging sandwiches.

You yell back without turning to him. “Yes, fucker, you and E can come, if you want! No fuckin’ plus one for you though!”

“Oh come the fuck on, Jack-Off!”

“Oh, make me a fuckin’ sandwich, big man!”

“Oh, I’ll make you a fuckin’ sandwich!”

“Oh, my dick!” A response that makes no sense, consistently the perfect bookend. You sigh, and finally, your eyes flit to the most terrified two in the room. “Berzattos… Holiday plans?”

“I think we’re gonna do dinner on Christmas Eve, and then the morning together? Well, I am.” Sug hesitates, she’s looking between Uncle Jimmy and Carmen. “I was gonna ask what Carm’s plan is…”

“I’ll go. I’ll go.” Carmen has to stop himself from biting the skin off the tips of his fingers. “I’ll go. And I’ll come to the party, after.” 

“I’ll probably just go home with Pete after. Baby’s first Christmas, y’know.” Natalie hums and nods awkwardly. There’s a question both of them want to ask. Neither of them are brave enough to ask it. And while you can sense there’s something dancing in the air, you’re not going to overstep on this front. 

“Mazel. I can buy silly decor with reason now. …Now let’s talk about the important grievances.” You hum, happy to end that chapter.

You turn just slightly to gently slap Richie’s cheek as he stands next to you. “Rich, you need to line your beard up, this neckbeard shit is pissing me off—”

“What’s with the fuckin’ drive by?!” “It’s been on my mind forever— You can’t be wearin’ suits and then be rockin’ that unkempt shit, clean up—” “I’m clean! I’m fucking clean!” “Who said? Who fuckin’ said? Cause I sure didn’t!” “How’m I s’posed to be linin’ my shit up every mornin’—” “You do not grow a beard that fast—” “Oh fuck you, I’m not fuckin’ Carmen, I grow a fuckin’ beard.”

Carmen’s just surprised to hear his name out of any name come up. “What– Now that’s a fucking drive by, what the fuck?” 

“If we’re voicing grievances, I’d like to voice my fuckin’ complaint with Captain Crash-Out over here—” “Who the fuck is sublimating now?” “You’re not usin’ that term correctly, cause you’re not integrated—” “I thought you two worked this out on the road trip!” “We did!”

You only half regret starting this feud with the beard comment— To be fair, you’re right. “This is it working?” 

“This is, in fact, it working.” Syd confirms plainly, her disappointment more than apparent. Rubbing the tips of her fingers to her temples. The fight is out of her, at this point. 

“Alright.” You slap your hands together. “Richie, what is your complaint?” Are you just union rep now? You might be a union rep now. 

“Carmen is fucking killing me.” The cocktail swishes and nearly spills as Richie points at the Chef, emphatic. “He won’t change shit for guests!”

“No substitutions!” It’s almost cultish, the way Sydney and Carmen yell it out together. 

Richie scoffs, head reeling back. “What happened to it bein’ about hospitality?” 

“I mean…” You suck air through your teeth, squinting. “If we’re sayin’ no substitutions, it’s no substitutions— Unless it’s like an allergy or sensory thing— But even then, it shouldn’t be like a major component getting replaced.”

“See? See?” It’s almost maniacal, rabid, how delighted Carmen is that you’re on his side. “Fuckin’ thank you. This is why I lo—” 

Before Carmen can finish his sentence, Richie flails about to suddenly throw the peach and blueberry skewer from his drink at Carmen— Not the pointed side, he doesn’t want to stab the guy. Just wants to save him from running his mouth. The peach slice hits Carm’s chest as Richie stutters out, “F-Fuck you, fuck you, fine. No substitutions— What the fuck am I supposed to say then?” speaking over whatever syllables fell out of Carmen’s mouth, muddling them. 

You cock your brow, but Carmen seems to quickly let the childish toss go, more than eager to move on. So you do too. “...Say some bullshit like, like, The Bear encourages —uhm— explorative culinary experiences where you let your taste buds go beyond your limitations and comforts— So eat a fuckin’ mushroom, you’re not gonna die.”

“If they don’t like mushrooms—” “Then they shouldn’t order it!” “How hard is it to just fuckin’ switch it out!?” “So hard! So hard! I think! I could guess!”

“I could do it.”

“Could you?” You cross your arms, leaning your weight onto one leg, pivoting to Richie. “Okay, roleplay, you’re Carmen, I’m you—” Just as Richie opens his mouth, you hold your index finger to his lips. “I know you wanna be a bitch, I’m askin’ you to just skip that part for me.”

His shit eating grin is only a little endearing. “How am I supposed to be in character if I’m not allowed to be a bitch?”

You clench and unclench your hands in the air, but let it go, opting to move on to your little thought experiment. “Chef, patient—” Instincts never give out, huh? “Christ, patron doesn’t want mushrooms in their anolini, I need you to sub it.”

“Ah, well I’m happy to do that for you, Host Richie, I—” He’s going to go into some scathing spiel, and you love the guy, but you have to rub dirt in the wound for the lesson to stick. 

You speak over him, voice stern, “Chef. In order to keep pace, I need you to make this call in fifteen seconds, what are you subbing it for?”

Richie’s head shakes back and forth as he scrambles to get his brain to work.“Fuckin— Fucking– Eggplant.” 

“Eggplant?” You ask politely, tone unsure. Carmen asks it with you, tone ridiculing. 

“It’s a sauce isn’t it?” You squint, turning your head to the actual Carmen. “It’s like a really thick mushroom sauce stuffed pasta?”

He tilts his head from side to side, but nods. In gist, yes. “It’s a ragout. Low and slow cooked stew—” Carmy’s ready to rave about it and teach you every facet of the dish, but perhaps that’s too romantic for a public setting. God, he’s weird about love. “We keep it going on our back burners all day— It takes an hour minimum to make from scratch, you can’t just sub it.” 

“Yeah, well…” Richie stops himself short of getting snarky for no reason all over again, taking a second to think about it. “Well, I didn’t know that. You didn’t explain that shit to me.”

“I don’t have time to hold your fuckin’ hand—” Carmen stops short of getting catty when you give him a very soft and yet gutting disappointed look. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sniffing. “I can’t explain why I do everythin’ I do when I’m— When we’re in a middle of a rush, I just need you to trust when kitchen says we can’t do it. Trust that I thought it through.”

Richie has to control himself, has to make sure the corners of his mouth don’t upturn just slightly, has to make sure it’s not clear that he is overjoyed that there’s finally middle ground, can’t get his hopes up. He nods. “I just wanna make everyone happy, y’know?”

“I know. You’re—” Carmen’s nose scrunches up for a second, God, he’s never had to say that he think’s Richie’s good to his face. And he’s not gonna start now, “Eggplant would be a good sub, if we had time.”

Richie prods his tongue along the side of his cheek, thinking. “Maybe I could look into knowin’ restrictions faster and estimatin’ their orders, so you can have ‘em on deck?”

And Carmen does think that’d be a waste of time, but he’s learning. He hears it out. “Could give it a shot, yeah.”

“Same team.” Richie reaches across the counter, and Carmen actually takes his hand, a quick dap. Civil.

“Same team.” First time you’ve heard Carmen adopt your idiom; you can’t help but smile, though you’re trying to hide it. You’re too focused on arguably the two most important men in your life to notice the silent conversation Uncle Jimmy is having with The Computer, speaking solely through nods and exchanged glances. 

Pay is for Chip. Cicero nods, and The Computer nods back. He gets it now. Pay is for Chip. Not just the mixologist, not just the sommelier, not just the repairman, not just the not-quite girlfriend, Chip. You’re Chip. You’re the cog, the piece. The grease between everyone. 

You’re the guy. Always have been, always will be. 

The silent conversation and the warm feeling in the room is cut short though, by The Computer. “Can she deal with the butter thing?”

“What the fuck is the butter thing?” You immediately jump onto the case, when Carmen looks down and away from you, you frown, leaning in. “What’s the butter thing?”

Jimmy snaps his fingers at The Computer, he hands him an invoice, which is then handed off to you. Old Major Farms, Orwellian Butter, salted and unsalted. $11,268. You just. Stare. The math comes all too easy to your head. Worth a week? 

“It’s the best.” Carmen repeats as your eyes remain worryingly unblinking. “It’s—”

“Carm.” Syd all but hisses, shaking her head in tight swivels, waving her hand around her neck for him to cut it. “Making it worse.”

“Angel is like, the worst it can get.” Hums Richie. Recalling your barometer of anger. Recalling the times when Mikey would say ‘what’s the point of paying bills?’ And you’d have to pull him aside. “Can’t get much lower than that besides—”

“Light of my life.” You look up from the paper in your hand, and both Richie and Sydney wince. Your voice is terrifyingly delicate as you nod over to the room behind you. “Apple of my eye. Can I speak to you in your office, please?”

Carmy’d like to say no. “...Yeah.” But you already started walking before he even answered, so there’s not much of a choice here. You head in by yourself, and thankfully, the door closes behind you, so Carmen’s got a second before he gets devoured. 

He walks around the counter, and as he nears the door, Richie grabs his arm. He whispers as he hands Carmen what’s left of his cocktail. “You need to lock the fuck in.”

“I know.” Carm returns, shooting down all that’s left of the lowball. Why’s Richie’s the sweet one? Why’d Carmen get the cough syrup drink? That’s not fair. Do you not think he’s sweet? “Thank you for the— Intercept.” 

Richie nods, he’s been unwillingly playing quarterback for Carmen since going to Rockefeller and seeing that goddamn giant tree and Carmen couldn’t stop opening his big fucking mouth after seeing you under the star. “Just think with your brain, not your—”

“Don’t.” “Was gonna say heart.” “Sure.” “Don’t be weird.”

“I know it’s expensive.” Carmen gets it out before even fully closing the door behind him, “But it’s normal prices, for high-end restaurants. I know it’s different—” He stops short when he finally turns around from the closed door, to see you, holding your painting. 

It’s facing you, you’re reviewing it in your hands where you sit in the office chair; the brown wrapping paper freshly ripped and on the floor. Carmen still doesn’t know what’s on the piece. 

“Carm.” You twist the piece around in your hand, turning it to him. He can see the nine squares. The Beef to The Bear. Mikey. “This is not another restaurant.”

Carmen continues to stare, silently, though he takes a step closer, reaching a hand out to graze over the canvas. You keep going, clarifying. “We’re not just another high-end restaurant. We’re us. And so we should be doing things like us. We’re the best, we don’t need the stuff to be.”

He was with you until that last part. His pursed lips say as much.

“It’s—” You smack your lips together, haphazardly handing him the canvas, he’s very quick to grab it with both hands, not wanting it unstable for a second. “Hold on, let me show you somethin’ — I think I left one in here.”

You roll the office chair back a bit, sinking down in the seat to reach far behind a tall cabinet; you have to pad your hand around in the dark nook for quite some time before you pull out— A screwdriver. An oddly shaped one, at that.

“...Has that been here the whole time?”

You nod. “Like threeish years at least, I think I threw it back there while telling it’s origin story. It’s part of the first set I ever got.” You grip the flat wooden handle. “It’s the worst screwdriver on earth, like, by far.” 

That gets a little chuckle out of Carmen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You look up from it to him. “It’s a handmade set. Dad’s dad made it.” You awkwardly roll closer to him, he leans over, head next to your head as you both look down at it. “It’s got a flat wooden handle, made of poplar— So not only is it fucking impossible to get a good grip on, it’s also so fucking slippery. It’s part of a whole set, passed down from my grandpa to my dad to me.”

“Sounds fucked.”

“It is.” You laugh, and so does he. “It’s purposefully meant to piss you off.” You rub your thumb over the dent marks in the wood— All from the times you threw it at something— Including the very cabinet that it hid behind. “You ever wonder why I took over the handyman gig, bein’ the youngest and all?”

Carmy shrugs, glancing from the screwdriver to you. “Just assumed you were the best.”

That gets another laugh out of you, and Carmen’s overjoyed by the sound. “Yeah, I’m probably the best. But that’s only cause I kept up with it.”

You turn your head up to face Carmen again as you explain, “When our dad started bringing us to jobs as kids, he would make us exclusively use this set of screwdrivers— Sort of as a secret test. My brothers would get pissed off, as planned, and they’d quit and cry. And I dunno, I guess I’d cry and keep going? And I learned a couple tricks, eventually.”

“Tricks?”

“Like.” You pull back in the chair and run your hand across the office desk. The corners of it are screwed into the metal cabinet below it. “It’s really good if you’re screwing from the top down.” Using it as an example, you start to unscrew it. “It’s balanced. And it’s really all in the grip— Always loosen your grip with this one. Even if that seems counterintuitive.”

You get it to unscrew just fine with your loosened grip. “But if that doesn’t work, and you just can’t get it to work—” You lift the screwdriver in front of his face, showing off the sides of the handle. He smirks at the— “Just make your own grooves, it’ll be easier to hold.” Tiny teeth marks. 

“Carm.” You tap the handle to his nose as he zones in too much on it. “I’m the best repairman because I can work with anything. You’re the best Chef because you can work with anything. You don’t need the best when you’re the best.”

He’s the best? 

He’s the best. 

He’s the best. 

“I truly think you could make just as good a plate with Becel as this fucking Animal Farm butter.” 

Carmen’s the best. You think he’s the best. 

He’s gotta think with his head and not with his heart and not with anything else, either. Lock the fuck in, Carmen.

“I dunno bout all that.” He shrugs, bashful and attempting to hide it, trying to shake the praise off his back. 

“Well I know ‘bout that.” You shrug back, “I’m actually kind of a genius, when it comes to knowing who’s good and who’s not.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Carmy hums, and the sound is sweet without reservations. “...Painting is very good.” He nods to himself, on repeat, like a bobblehead. “Or I guess it’s less a painting and more a buncha photo transfers?”

“Yeah.” You set the screwdriver aside on the desk. “Most of them I took.”

“They’re good. It’s—” He pauses, tongue against his teeth. “It’s nice to see evidence he kept up, or somethin’.”

You nod, seeing Carmen’s brain struggle to keep pace in real time. “We took that one I think the day we talked to Uncle Jimmy about The Bear? Had to print out articles as proof we could make it work— Or, that you could make it work, rather.”

Carmen sniffs, crossing his arms, hands in tight fists— Probably too tight— where they hide. “Yeah, kinda fuckin’ up my end of the bargain, hm?” The light laugh that follows is hollow.

“Eh. You both did.” You smile, though it’s hesitant. “ But at least you’re still here fixing it.”

Still here. Still fixing it. That is in essence, the piece. Carmen gets lost staring at the squares, so you speak as he does. “I was trying to like. I dunno, replicate your brain.” He can see it. The messy yet coherent, controlled yet chaos. The love. The grief. The progress. The home. You see him. He can see that you see him. 

“11k for butter,” Carm’s head doesn’t move but his eyes raise to you. “Is a week. More than a week.”

Ah. Carmen can see you too, see your thought process. The Ascaso, worth one of the worst weeks of Mikey’s life. The fucking butter. Worth more than a week of Mikey’s sobriety. 

All you can do is nod solemnly. “It is, yeah.” 

He nods back, tongue prodding his cheek. “That’s too much.”

“I’d agree.”

“I’ll switch to local.” You make it easy for him to fix his mistakes, by giving him the space to realize them. 

“I think that’s the right call.” You nod, smiling. After a moment, you reach for Carmen to uncross his arms, and when he does, you take his fist and uncurl it— Your hand is a very soothing balm to the spots where he dug his nails into his own hand.

“Loosen your grip, Carmy.”

And so, he does. With a laugh and a look to high heaven, he loosens his grip. Really loosens his grip. Well— Not completely, he’s not going to say that, but he will say something that is just nearly as difficult but not quite. He'll bite down a little. He’ll make the grooves, for now, until his grip is good enough.

“Come to dinner with us?”

would you believe me if i said I had to rewrite a bit of this last scene because intially it went so rom-com and I was so disgusted when I reread it in the morning I had to stare at it in the subway ride to work like "what the fuck am I gonna do"

was this chapter good? God I hope so. I felt like with where we're going, it was kinda necessary to do Chip's onboard, set the stage for what work is like for her. I had to loosen my own grip with this one lmao. just allow myself to be a LITTLE messy. if it's bad, lie to me. tell me sweet little lies peach

DAD REVEAL THOUGH EH? MR CK!!! So much did happen this chapter. Chips on board! Squid Ink moving in together era commences! Christmas party!! Also. Would you believe me if I told you no shit syd was gonna move, she was planning it in S2, but I was planning this whole time for Ink to get evicted!! I want those fuckers to be roommates STAT!!!

anyways, i really hope i remembered to write down everyone that asked to be added to the taglist, i might've not. i'm very sorry if i didnt

oh also if you wanna be added!! send in your thoughts!! words for words baby, essay for essay cmonnn gimme ur character analysis!! (oh and also ask to be added, ofc)

@hoetel-manager , @fridavacado @sharkluver , @spectacular-skywalker , @silas-aeiou , @deadofnight0 , @sunbreathingstuff , @anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @blueaproncarmy @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @mrs-perfectly-fine @thefreakingbear @anytim3youwant

[leonsdoll]

BIRDS DON'T SING

plot: being your school's soccer team water girl means you've met a lot of girls but only one caught your eye

warnings: some cursing, fluff

word count: 0.6k

notes: okay this is my first series, I'm pretty excited!! there's not gonna be a schedule but the chapters should come out a couple days after the last! okay I hope you enjoy part one!🫶🏼

you have your dream role the soccer team, technically you weren't on the soccer team but you were close enough! you were the water girl, you got to sit down and watch them play and at the end give them some water, perfect excuse to gawk at the finest girls in the school, but one person had caught your attention, hazel callahan.

it was a warm spring day, you sat on the bleachers as you let the sun cover your body, wrapping you in it's heat, the team came jogging out and they all waved to you, you waved right back and warmly smiled at them.

they all started stretching, like you always do you just leaned back and watched, after 10 minutes of boring stuff they all started kicking the ball around, or whatever you do in soccer, all you knew is that you we're rooting for hazel.

when the practice game was over you headed down to the first step and started to dispense the water into the small plastic cups, they all came quickly running over to you, you handed out the cups to each player, when hazel came jogging over you filled up her cup.

'hey, can I have some water?' she wiped her forehead and put her hand on her hips, you snickered and passed her her cup, 'there's no need to ask hazel, I'm here to give water to you guys' she chuckled and sipped on her water, 'maybe I just want an excuse to talk to you' she joked or maybe flirted?

you laughed and nodded, 'well you don't need an excuse to talk me hazel' you turned around and started to pack your bag as it seemed like the conversation was over, 'good to know' she slid her hands on your shoulder and patted one, you felt your face burn up and you packed your bag quicker.

she took her hands off of you and walked away with the a cocky grin, leaving you feeling like a nerdy middle schooler with a crush on the popular girl.

the next day was the same, sit, watch, wait, fill the water cups and give them out, but this time something was different, hazel waited till you were packing up to get water, she tapped your shoulder, you flinched before heading hazel chuckle, you turned around a bit annoyed that she would ask for water after almost everyone was gone.

'what's up' she scratched her arm and cleared her throat, was she...nervous? 'uhm can I ask you a question?' you instinctively grabbed a cup but she shook her head before you could fill it with water, you put the cup back down and sighed, 'okay well if you don't want water what's the question?' you leaned against the short table behind you, 'would you I don't know, wanna go on a date with me?' she questioned her voice almost cracking mid phrase

did hazel callahan the best soccer player on the team just ask you the water girl, on a date? your eyes widened and you slightly choked on your own saliva, it took you a moment to register what she had just asked you, when you realized that this was real, you enthusiastically nodded, 'uhm yeah of course' you awkwardly smiled

'great I'll pick you up at six thirty, text me your address okay?' you slinged your bag over your shoulder, 'yeah of course, I'll uhm see you later I guess' you lightly tripped over your words, she grinned and waved at you while walking off, you started walking towards the opposite end of the field to the other exit of the school, holy shit you have a date with hazel fucking callahan!

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch13

Description: bit of a filler chapter BUT we get test results, get some cuddling, we get Mexico and ALEJO AND RUDY INCOMING!! Things will start moving next chapter - strap in!!

*Simon's POV*

Well that's the last time I try to help. Johnny practically drags me into the bed. I can tell she is on edge being around me. I don't sleep a wink - hell, I hardly take my eyes off her all night. Johnny helps to keep me grounded by resting his head on my shoulder. If he wasn't so relaxed, I would return to the kitchen. I wasted a perfectly good cuppa when I heard the girl screaming bloody murder. And that's the fuckin' thanks I get.. She eventually stops giving off the rancid, sour scent - she's scared of me. She looks as if she has burrowed in between John and Gaz. She looks as if she fits perfectly in that space.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I feel a small movement from underneath my head, then a gentle hand barely ghosting over my cheek. I fall back to sleep immediately, unsure if it had been real or just part of a dream.

*Simon's POV*

John sits up in bed about two hours everything had kicked off. We both seem to hold our breaths when the girl stirs slightly due to his movement. He then strokes a stray hair from her cheek and tucks it back behind her ear. Far gentler than I could handle something so delicate.

He doesn't even look at me, I should be asleep for all he knows yet he still whispers over to me "Kate's emailed. Got to go and check what she wants. Keep an eye on them, Simon". He says, nodding to the girl. "Kyle and Johnny would have a field day if they ended up alone with her on the pack bed". He explains, lightheartedly. I just huff an agreement. He carefully removes himself from the bed and opens and closes the door with a small click, not before sending a small nod in my direction.

As soon as the door shuts, the girl starts mumbling and moving in her sleep. She quickly moves onto the warm spot left by John. As if he senses her movement, Johnny rolls towards her like a madman and wraps her in his arms. Fuck sake Johnny! He was going to wake her up - he always did this. He attempts to move things around on the bed in his sleep. The only one he has ever managed to actually move is Garrick, but he would have no problem moving the girl. She is much smaller than any of us.

"Johnny!" I whisper shout towards him, trying to stay quiet. It doesn't work. He just rolls her over his body so that she is now between us - still a decent space between us thankfully. I can see Garrick fidgeting now too, missing the presence of the girl next to him. "Fuck sake Johnny, you're gonna wake everyone up!" i whisper-shout again. Johnny just groans but doesn't wake up. He always slept like a fuckin' log. He was a proper fidget in bed too. The only time he is ever still is when I hold him still.

All of a sudden, I feel fingers on my arm. I freeze and growl slightly, trying to remain in control. Don't fuckin' wake her up now, you prick! My brain shouts at me. I lay there like a statue, clenching my teeth. She whines, she fuckin' whines. "Mmmm, thereyouare" she murmurs, before pulling herself closer to me and wrapping herself around my arm. She is asleep, gently snoring. She thinks I'm fuckin' John. She keeps nuzzling closer and closer. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!

She starts getting dangerously close to my scent glands. I try to tilt my head away but she moans again. "Alphaa" she mumbles. The door opens. I don't hear it close. I glance towards the door. It's John. Thank god!

He takes in the sight with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised. "Fuckin' move her, John" I whisper sharply. "She looks comfortable, Simon - would be a shame to wake her, would it not?" - "Captain - please.." - "Smells in here. Her scent's getting stronger. Thought I'd air it out a bit before everyone wakes up" he says gesturing to the open door. "I don't care - just get her off of me".

He just chuckles at me, enjoying my discomfort. "Simon, I'm just off the phone with Kate. Mission in Mexico - you, Johnny and the girl are loading up tonight. Kyle and I need to sort something elsewhere first - will discuss it more later - but she needs whatever sleep she can get. I'm not moving her" - I growl at his refusal to help. He just laughs again.

"I also pushed forward her test results. I think you're right. They were inconclusive because she hasn't actually presented yet - but she has certain results that would sugge-" - "She's a fuckin' Omega, John, don't need no test results."

She stirs again. I glare at John, who is still standing at the open door. "Wha' time is it, Alpha?" she mumbles groggily, without opening her eyes. John raises his eyebrows but doesn't reply. I glare at him again, trying to shout 'ANSWER THE FUCKIN QUESTION' using my eyes. It must have worked because he eventually responds. "Almost time to get up, love" how the fuck didn't she notice that the voice did not come from beside her? She pulls herself even closer to me, squeezing my arm "S'warm".. John huffs a laugh from the door. If looks could kill, John would be dead. I throw him the nastiest side eye I can manage.

She leans up close to my ear. I tense up - she whispers - "Can you - can you tell Simon that I'm sorry..? About last night.. And - and thank him for helping me..?" I freeze.. silence. That's the first time she has used my actual name when speaking to me...She wasn't speaking to you though, wanker - she was speaking to John.. my brain helpfully reminds me.

She squeezes my arm again, waiting for a response. "You've already told him love" John chuckles from the door.

She sits up in bed like a fuckin' rocket. Almost gives herself whiplash. She glares down at me with wide eyes. I stare back but drop my eyes to look at her smaller hands, wrapped tightly around my arm. She obviously notices and she releases me as if I'd burnt her. That hurt a bit - of course she wouldn't want to touch a monster like me.

"Oh my god.. oh my god - I'm so sorry. I didn't mea-" - "S'fine" I grunt, turning away from her and finally liberating myself from the bed. I brush past John as I leave the room. He pats me twice on the shoulder as I pass him.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Well, I've really done it this time. FUCK!!

I crawl away from the others, ready to break down. "I'm sorry, Captain.." - "now now, love - let's not go back to this - John.. call me John.. please?" He asks me, softly, stepping up to the edge of the bed and wiping my cheeks with his thumb. I wasn't crying, was I? Johnny and Kyle eventually wake up. They both look over towards John and I.

"What happened, Lassie?" Johnny asks - "I - I don't know.. I woke up next to the Lieutenant and - and he left.." I whimper..

Johnny growls "I'm goin' to fuckin' speak to him" - "Johnny!" The Captain barks "Give him space for a few minutes, alright?" I glance between the Alphas. "I'm sorry.."

"No, love.. you've got nothing to be sorry for.." Kyle reassures me.

"What did Si say to ya' lass?" Johnny asks.. "He.. he said it was fine.." - "That's all?" he asks confused.. "Why are you so upset then, doll?" - "I - I don't know" I respond, honestly.

John pulls me from the bed and wraps me around his body, carrying me to the other side of the bed with him, sitting down with me in his lap. "I'd say that was a very positive interaction.. Simon doesn't say things he doesn't mean, love. So if he says it's fine. Then that's what he means.." I try to nod in agreement.

"Now, listen up everyone.. I've got a couple of important things to say - First is that we have an issue in Mexico. Johnny, Y/N and Simon will go to Mexico initially. Kyle and I will tie up a couple of loose ends elsewhere first. I'll discuss it later in the meeting room". I tense slightly but try to be brave and accept that I am a soldier now. Fighting on the right side this time.

"Secondly - your test results, love." The two younger Alphas perk up slightly at this. John squeezes my hip slightly. "The doctors found the test to be inconclusive because you haven't actually presented yet BUT... you have certain markers in your blood that would suggest it possible for you to present as an Omega. Now these markers very rarely show up in Beta's however it is possible. So we have to basically wait until you present."

My blood turns to ice. I can feel my head go heavy. I feel sick.

"I - I'm an Omega..?" I whisper "Now, lass - that's not exactly what I said, is it?" John responds, gently rubbing my back.

Johnny is grinning madly behind me. John sends him a glare that I don't see, too preoccupied with being burrowed into his shoulder.

"What am I supposed to do..? Heats.. mates.. If-If I'm an Omega.. I - I don't know what to do..." I sob into his neck.

"Shhh love, shh now... We will cross that bridge IF and when we get to it.. I know of an Omega who is successful within the military. In fact, you'll be meeting him soon in Mexico. It is possible. I'm sure you'll be one of the exceptions - tough little thing that you are" he says fondly. I try to push a small giggle out between sobs. "That's it, love. Come on now, time to get ready for the day - got lots to go over before you leave.." I nod against his neck and clutch him a little bit tighter".

"Kyle, would you take Y/N back to her nest please?" - "s'not a nest" I interrupt - they both ignore me "Yes, Alpha" Kyle responds, standing from the bed and holding my hand, trying to encourage me to release the Captain. I step down from his lap and Kyle wipes the tear tracks from my cheeks before kissing me on the cheek.

The captain then instructs Johnny - "Johnny, go and talk to Simon. Go easy on him. He did nothing wrong" - my stomach sinks, they think Simon is the one who had upset me. I'm bad news. A burden.

I walk towards the door with Kyle "And Kyle.." the Captain stops us.. "Don't bloody barge into her nes-room without permission, just wait at the door while she is getting dressed, yeah?" He asks lightheartedly. Kyle sighs and agrees, walking to my room.

When we arrive at the door, it's still open from last night, and the blankets and clothes from the cupboard were strewn all over the floor. I must have put up a fight when Simon came and found me.

Kyle steps to the side of the door to try and obey his Alpha's command to stay outside. I grab his hand and tug him in. "Don't be dumb" I giggle.

"You'll get me in trouble, you little minx" he jokes.

I push him to sit on the bare bed.

"Just sit there and don't look"

[gachagon]

Oh so that's what everyone was freaking out for 😭 tbh I have been saying since day 1 that Kaiser doesn't actually care about Ness and that he really has just been keeping him around to literally use him. But I won't act like Ness isn't going along with it or that on some level he doesn't know. I think Ness does know and just doesn't care because being next to Kaiser for any reason or excuse is still good even if Kaiser doesn't have the same level of obsession as Ness holds.

However I think we're getting close to seeing Kaiser really lose it and Noa knows it too.

However just what that rock bottom will look like and what else it'll take for him to really go that far down is a mystery to me. It could be Ness joining Isagi, it could be him not scoring another goal this game etc.

I think Kaiser's inability to understand other people's kindness and compassion makes it impossible for him to really change just because Ness cares about him. He's gonna have to get an ego that's more sustainable if he wants to continue his career.

This chapter reminded me of a few things but most notable was when Kaiser was remembering how it felt to make other people lose and fall into despair because he was the reason their dreams were crushed. That part really reminded me of Isagi and Niko's game and how Isagi admitted to himself that he didn't care if winning meant the other team losing everything in the process because the feeling of victory itself is too good and rewarding.

I think it really just hammers home how similar Kaiser and Isagi really are because they both really do think of soccer in the same way.

This chapter also brings that ancient question from Snuffy back up. "What are you without football?"

And I think Kaiser knows that without the game he truly has nothing, no plan, no ambitions. His goal to make everyone in the soccer world hate him by proxy of him winning all of the games is egotistical, but being better doesn't mean people will hate you, so his goal is short sighted and something that won't last long.

Now I'm going to say something that I think might be controversial to some people.

Okay here it goes.

I don't think Isagi hates Kaiser. I think Isagi is completely neutral towards him and even understands his intensity on some level and THAT is the issue between them. I think it's both a combination of Isagi and Kaiser being too similar (which in turn means Isagi is in Kaiser's head and vice versa) but that Isagi doesn't hate Kaiser at all and holds no real animosity towards him, even though Kaiser has made his displeasure of Isagi very obvious.

Really think about it too, because Kaiser has done SO many things that would normally piss anyone off. His motivation to make people hate him because it's the only way he really understands how to socialize with people, puts his first meeting with Isagi into perspective. The whole "calling him Yoichi" thing even after Isagi corrects him, constantly getting in Isagi's personal space even after Isagi openly says "hey you're kinda close...", even during the first little scrimmage between them when Kaiser openly steals the ball and looks to Isagi like he expects Isagi to blow up at him and be absolutely pissed. It all points to Kaiser deliberately trying to rile Isagi up and foster some resentment in Isagi.

But instead Isagi has done nothing but continue to hold the same kind of "hate" that he has for Kaiser that he holds for the rest of his rivals. Yeah Isagi isn't afraid to talk shit but off the field? He acts completely indifferent to it all, as if Kaiser doesn't get under his skin when he's not playing the game which kind of shocks me.

I feel like out of the many rivals that Isagi has, Kaiser is the one who has tried the hardest to be the absolute bane of his existence and it just isn't working at all. Kaiser is annoying and a nuisance and an all around jerk when playing. And Isagi understands that totally and still it doesn't bother him.

He's not thinking of how much he hates Kaiser and is treating Kaiser like a person. A human being with thoughts and feelings. And Kaiser doesn't understand why at all because he truly has just been nothing but a huge asshole this entire time 😭 And we know from this very chapter that Kaiser doesn't understand why anyone would treat him in that way since he's never been treated like that at all. He doesn't know how to have a normal relationship with people at all or how to have a healthy rivalry with Isagi, and Isagi doesn't care about any of that and still decides to treat him like he would any other player on the field who's got amazing skill.

And I think what really drives this home is that Isagi has also admired Kaiser's skill in football in a way where he wants to learn. Isagi knows that Kaiser is extremely talented at the game and that he could pull things off Isagi couldn't even dream of. The admiration is different from the kind most people have given Kaiser because unlike Ness, Isagi hasn't centered Kaiser to such a total degree that he's the only thing keeping him going and unlike the other players on the field Isagi isn't driven by jealousy.

He knows when people are better at him and instead of breeding hatred in him, he wants to get closer to these people, he wants to ask their advice and for them to help him get better. Think about all the times he's just straight up gone to Rin and Kunigami and Barou for advice on what to do even though it's clear they think very poorly of him 😭

So if it's not malice that drives Isagi and it isn't Jealousy and it's not obsession, then what DOES drive Isagi Yoichi? That's what Kaiser can't figure out because Isagi isn't like the other hundreds of players that he's gone up against, and Isagi doesn't treat him like every other player does.

Really this is the best chapter we've gotten in terms of Kaiser more and how he thinks and how he got this way. It makes me want more chapters just so I can see how he comes with losing so completely and getting treated like a human being from a guy he fucking hates.

[jaeyunluvbot]

[ RECKLESS DRIVING ! ]

chapter fifteen. yikes

౨ৎ The last thing you expected from today was to end up in an argument with Jake. You had felt pretty pleased with the way your friendship was progressing, if not a tinge bittersweet about how he most likely didn't reciprocate your romantic feelings.

When he first texted you asking for you to come to his soccer game, you'd been excited, but now you wish you'd just declined his invitation.

The game didn't go well, to say the least, knocking the HYBE U soccer team out of contention for the playoffs. It wasn't the fault of any specific player, the SM Tigers were just a really good team.

Once the game was over, you and Beomgyu looked at each other cringing at the devastating loss the team had just faced.

"Should we say something to them?" You ask hesitantly, not sure on how to approach the situation.

"I guess we should, they already know we're here, so it'd probably be worse not to say anything."

You nod and grab your stuff, following Beomgyu down to the field. You frown as you see the crestfallen looks on the team's faces, wanting nothing more than to make them feel better.

Beomgyu smiles awkwardly at Yeonjun and Kai, who seem to lighten up a bit at the presence of their friend.

"You guys played really well today, for what it's worth," You say, having found Jake standing off a bit away from the team.

he laughs sarcastically and shakes his head, "Not well enough, apparently." You frown at the self-deprecating tone of his voice.

"The tigers are just really good, there wasn't much you could've done, Jake."

You try to offer him some semblance of comfort, placing your hand on his shoulder and wincing when he shrugs it off.

"What, so we're just not good enough them?" He asks accusingly, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"Jake, that's not what I meant, I promise." You feel yourself growing frustrated at his attitude, despite knowing that he was just having a bad day.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter." He spits, anger clear in his tone.

"It's ok to feel upset at this, it's a big loss, it'd be weird if you weren't upset."

He scoffs at you, "Like you know anything about soccer anyways..."

You shrink back from him, feeling his distaste towards you in that moment. "Ok, I can tell you're not super happy right now, so I'm just gonna go. I hope you have a good night and text me whenever you're ready to talk."

You turn away from him, a burning-hot pit of negative emotions building slowly in your stomach. You make your way to Beomgyu who looks at you questioningly but you shake your head and begin to lead him out of the stadium.

"Yeah whatever, just run home with your little boyfriend." You freeze in your tracks as you hear Jake yelling behind you.

Beomgyu grabs your arm as you turn around, silently pleading with you not to say anything, but you ignore him, marching up to Jake.

"He's not my boyfriend, and just because you lost today, that doesn't mean you get to use me as a punching bag. I've been nothing but nice to you, so don't start yelling at me."

"Whatever Y/N just leave, you're making me feel worse and I can't deal with you right now."

His eyes still won't meet yours so you blink back tears and ball up your fists, nails cutting into your palms.

"I was just leaving anyways, don't text me, Jake." You turn away from him and Beomgyu rushes to you, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the stadium, ignoring the worried looks from the other members of the team.

"Real nice Jake, she was just trying to comfort you." Jungwon speaks seriously.

"Whatever, fuck this, I'm leaving." Jake heads to the locker room by himself, still seething.

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

You and Beomgyu begin the walk back to your apartment as you try to hold back tears, not wanting to cry at some simple words.

"Y/N, are you ok? That was kind of intense." Beomgyu stops walking, moving your hair from your face and examining your expression.

"I'm fine Beomgyu, I just- I just guess he's not the guy I thought he was." You say, stuttering as you hiccup and hold back the tears that are now even more threatening than before.

The rest of the walk back to your apartment is filled with an uneasy silence, and you immediately head into your room when you arrive, turning off your phone and locking the door.

You can hear Winter and Ningning interrogating Beomgyu, using hushed tones, clearly not wanting you to hear.

You cry silently as you lay in the dark, wondering how today went so wrong. 𝜗𝜚

𝜗𝜚 author's note - some angst today coz i love making myself upset. jake is kinda a dick but yeah.

𝜗𝜚 taglist - @dreamiestay @haechansbbg @n1k1mura @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @lilifiedeans @dojaejunging @rikisly @nctsshoes2 @seunghancore @bluxjun @noobgod1269

[vulpixisananimal]

Carrion!Sif AU, Chapter 1.

ACT 1, The Hunger.

(Au origonaly by @traumaboyexo. it's so cool. I'm 100% going to do more of this.)

"Siffrin!"

(You're lying down in the field near Dormont. You had a weird dream about eating a star. You smell cherries, Mirabelle was calling your name.)

". . . Siffrin?" (She's looming over you now, your Housemaiden.) "Good morning! Or, well more like good afternoon I guess. Were you taking a nap? That's just like you. . . Only you could sleep peacfully at a time like this, hee hee."

(You're too sleepy to talk, you close your eye again.)

"You're still half asleep, aren't you. I'll let you sleep a bit longer, but not too long!!"

(. . . Ugh. You can't stay here, like this. The sun was nice, and you could smell the birds in the air. The people in the village. The faint and distinct smell Mirabelle carried with her. But you were getting hungry, really, really hungry.)

(Wake up, Siffrin. You have a country to save.)

>>>

(Statues, big and small, all with different faces. Some jump up and down, some are sad, some are happy. The Change God, Deity of all of Vaugarde, stands before you.)

(So much has happened over the last few months, since you met Mirabelle. You helped save them from a sadness, and you were here to defeat the King. They were nice, they were your familly.)

(Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonniface. Each of them had been your best friends, or at least allies. You hoped you were friends, at least.)

(Mirabelle once asked if you were ok with following them on your journey. You truthfully answered that this had been the happiest you'd ever been. But, that just made her look upset.)

(You cringe just thinking about it, truth be told.)

(You're still hungry.)

>>>

"Don't worry about a thing, then. Can I get you anything on the house? A croissant, maybe? . . . Incredible, incredible. I've never seen someone give such a look of disdain when offered croissant."

"A Pain Au Chocolate, then. Only monsters don't like Pain Au Chocola."

(You like those! You nod!!)

"Ha, one Pain Au Chocolate, coming up."

(You got the Pain Au Chocolate!! Yay!!)

(You know they're really, really bad for your stomach. But it's still warm! Smells of butter and chocolate. You try and restrain yourself with one small bite. But you're so hungry, it smells so good!! You take one bite, and another, and another!!)

". . . Not gonna lie, seeing a tiny one like you eat like a rabid beast. . . That was distrubing, but also weirdly satisfying."

(Haha, this was future Siffrins problem.)

>>>

(The Favor Tree looms above you.)

(You look around for a good leaf, one to represent you. You need it for the Favor Tree, after all.)

(A wish, a wish. . . Favor Trees must be popular around Vaugarde, these days. Everyone must be wishing for the same thing. So, why should you join them, then? What's one more wish on the pile. Something small. . .)

(You wish for. . .)

>>>

"Phew, Bonbon! That was DE-LI-CIOUS!!"

(It was really, really good!! You ate every bite on your plate! It was sooooo tasty, but now your tummy was feeling upset. Damn you, past Siffrin!! But, you could still eat more!!)

"Aw Siff, are you still hungry?" (Isabeau asks.)

"Frin, you ate a lot, huh!! You liked my cooking a lot, huh!!! Here, have some more food since you're so hungry and like my cooking so much."

(Bonnie gives you one (1) carrot slice. It smelled tasty!)

(Chomp.)

"Won't that give you a stomach ache? Nevermind that, how can you still eat after all that food?" (Odile asks, concerned.)

"I'm a growing kid!" (You reply, cheekily.)

"A growing kid that drinks achohol?!?"

"You're older than most of the people here?!?"

(You wink cutely.)

"I suppose we're lucky to get some meat for you all the way out here." (Odile sighs.) "What a strange diet you have."

(You shrug. You've always been like this.)

>>>

(You step into the House of Change. It feels. . . Wrong. You have a tingling on the back of your neck. A tingling you'd always get when something was "off.")

(A house frozen in time. A faint smell of sugar slicing through the air. It was strange, but still you were confident. You could smell your companions following you, step by step. Each as distinct as the next.)

(You're hungry again.)

(You smell a sadness ahead.)

>>>

(Huh?)

"Is something wrong, Siffrin?" (Asks Odile.)

(You look around. There, behind you, there was a flickering white. . . Star?)

"Did you see that light?" (You ask.)

"A light?" (Mirabelle looks concerned.)

"Something wrong, Sif?" (Isa adds.)

(You walk over to the light and point to it.)

". . . . . . ?"

(So they can't see it? It smelled of sugar.)

(You reach out and touch the light.)

>>>

(Traps? Traps?)

"A job for me then." (You say, cheekily.)

"It is your job."

"Protect us, trap master!"

(Not the first time you had to reassure Mirabelle. Time to look around.)

(You look around the room. Checking each wall, checking the floors, checking the pillars. You felt the brickwork for anything, a hidden switch, a pressure plate, anything. It all smelled of... Sugar, and old stone. Well maintained, it smelled of people too. You could smell. . . Fear, worry, no, no that was Mirabelles. She smelled of fear, it smelled. . .)

(You're hungry again.)

(There's nothing here. You can't find any switches, so. . .)

"So? So are we safe?? We're not safe, are we!! This is the death corridor!!! There must be a trap--"

(Oh come on now.) "There's nothing weird in here."

"But there must be!!"

"Aw, Mira. . ."

"Belle, Belle, don't worry about it. Frin isn't good at many things, but they know stuff about traps."

(Hey. . .)

"Right, if we can't trust the one who's supposed to lead us THIS early, this wont bode well for later."

(HEY--)

"But! But!"

"We're not dead yet." (You say, stepping through the hall.)

"W-well, that's true. . ."

"We HAVE been in this room for a while. . . And Siffrin has been walking everywhere. So if it was weight sensitive, it would have gone off by now."

"Exactly! It's all fine!!"

"Oh. . . Yeah, yeah okay! I'll believe you! Sorry for worrying, I'm a little on edge."

(You smile at them.) "We're good, Mira, see?" (You walk to the center of the room.)

"Everythings fine!"

(. . . . The back of your neck tingles. Somethings-)

(CRACK.)

(THUD.)

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

I Cherish You, Halcyon Days: v.

“You’re gonna die, kid. In the worst way possible.”

tags: afab!reader (she/her), angst, slow burn

pairing: gojou x reader + onesided!getou x reader

summary: You’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. You’re 17 years old when you realize who your killer will be. And you’re 17 years old when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

"Sister School Exchange?"

"Yeah, it's this thing we do each year with the other of Jujutsu Tech in Kyoto," you lean back against Chinatsu's bed as your non-sorcerer friends look at your curiously.

It's a peaceful Sunday like any other.

Tooru is slouched awkwardly but comfortably at Chinatsu's desk playing Zelda, meanwhile Chinatsu has claimed her bed as her own while she braids her hair. Hard as these days are to come by now that you live in a school remote in some mountains on the countryside-esque outskirts of Tokyo, you relish when you have them. It's a touch of comfort and familiarity. "It's like a sports thing. Loser goes to the winner's school the following year. Last year we won so those suckers are coming to Tokyo."

"Who went where last year?" Chinatsu continues braiding her bright brown hair.

"We went to Kyoto," you expertly leave out the fact you didn't actually get to go. Nor the fact that you wouldn't be participating once again. Your friends don't need to know all that. Stupid special grade technicalities, you want to complain. There's no point, however, with the company you've surrounded yourself with. You're still more than a bit miffed at your inability to attend last year's Exchange.

"Is it an open event where anyone can go?" At your sympathetic grimace, Tooru scowls. "Damn rich people," he swears, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. His blue-black bangs are pulled back by a hairclip, fully displaying his newfound grumpiness. The idea of sports always kicks Tooru's competitive spirit into overdrive being a member of Tsubame High's rock climbing club. He tried getting you to join your middle school's team once. As it turns out, your grip strength was ass. And it still is if I'm being honest with myself. "Well kick their asses and send those losers back to Kyoto in shambles," Tooru demands as he returns to the visuals of Majora's Mask.

Oh if only. Well, you're certain that victory will be spelled out for your school once again if Gojou and Suguru have anything to say about it. You just know you won't actually play any role in it.

"I'll be sure to let you guys know how it goes."

ー

It's a toss up for you on which days you prefer at Jujutsu Tech. Some days it's Monday, Wednesday, Friday and other times you really appreciate a good Tuesday, Thursday Saturday schedule. It depends on how tired your are... and how much procrastinating you've done on your assignments.

After watching X-Men back in '01, maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise that Jujutsu Tech had regular classes but you still remember your surprise during your first week of first year. Apparently, you actually need to at least know the essential basics society deemed important. As such, Jujutsu Tech operated on a block schedule where certain days detailed which day you'd be learning standard course work or anything related to jujutsu.

Monday, Wednesday and Friday were dedicated to normalcy with classes like Math, Japanese, English and Japanese History. Those were handled by the assistants who actually had teaching licenses. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday were all jujutsu-based. History of Jujutsu, Application of Cursed Techniques and Exorcism and Physical Education. (Physical Education being a Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday class was the most surprising for you. But once you found out PE included sparring and mock battles against curses, you understood the picture.) These classes were handled by the sorcerers that did the heavier curse-exorcising work in this field with four teachers assigned a specific grade of students to handle.

With Nanami Kento and Haibara Yuu joining as first years, Fujioka still had her hands full with preparing the first years for the rest of their jujutsu careers.

Being in charge of the second years, Yaga didn't have much to do in terms of teaching late last year after Okita died. So the muscle head seemed pretty excited to go from 0 students to 4.

Yamada's graduated but with Utahime and Mei Mei being the new fourth years, Koizumi still has work to do.

The only teacher doing nothing now until next year rolled around at the Tokyo branch of Jujutsu Tech is Matsuno. If none of you are dead by the time third year rolls around, she'll have 4 students bothering her then.

This particular Saturday, classes have been halved for the day. Thanks again, irregular scheduling. And thanks again, Kyoto Tech. It's not the first day of it, that won't be until Monday. Still, today is the day the Kyoto Tech students are arriving and that is important enough that you don't need a full day of schooling.

You recall the names of the people of interest Utahime mentioned during spring break and try imagining faces to the names while Gojou loudly groans at Shoko's newest terrible attempt at explaining how reversed curse technique works. It doesn't help that it looks like smoke is exiting Haibara's brain in his own confusion.

"I think Shoko's right, Gojou," you grin widely at the snow-haired boy's head swivel in your direction. Even with the sunglasses, you can tell he's irritated. "You just don't have the common sense for it."

"Oh like you're able to understand her gibberish," Gojou's tongue clicks.

You're absolutely not. "Hyoo hyoi, right, Shoko?"

"Hyoo hyoi!" Shoko chirps back deviously. "[First] is getting it."

"See?" You gesture at the girl. A crumpled, empty soda can gets tossed your way and your hands fly out immediately to create a peach-colored shield of energy. "Sore loser!"

"Walking copyright infringement," you hate how that comment actually gets a choked laugh of you while you tell him your technique is called Rejection based on the Phoenix Wright franchise. So what if your abilities are reminiscent of a certain manga character with burnt orange hair and a pair of blue flower pins, Gojou should leave you be. You don't control the way in which jujutsu techniques are passed out.

"Why do I have to be stuck with the generation of teachers that don't know how to do reversed curse technique," he grumbles. "Why does the one person I know who can do it have the explanation abilities of a 5 year old? Who the hell did I piss off in a past life for this?"

Shoko tries to pull out a cigarette but it's snatched out of her hands by Suguru in equal parts concern and his own frustration at her less-than-stellar explanations. "I'm sure the list is long so thanks for spreading your bad luck to me too, Satoru," Gojou sticks out his tongue and brandishes his middle finger brazenly, Suguru flips him the bird right back. Yours and Haibara's giggles fill the air while Nanami, arguably the most sane of the six of you, sighs in annoyance.

It really is unfortunate for everyone that Shoko's pure instincts surrounding her abilities can't be translated into comprehensible words.

You learned the year prior in Application of Cursed Techniques and Exorcism I that it was really only relatively recently the jujutsu schools were established and passing down general knowledge outside of family became a thing. Unfortunately, the time in which these schools were created, information on reversed cursed technique was unable to be secured. So until Shoko is able to explain in full how she does it ー or the rest of you are able to start using it on your own ー Jujutsu Tech won't be receiving any updates to the cursed technique application curriculum.

"Nanami," Gojou points at the blond who already looks like he regrets even stepping one foot out of his dorm today. "Learn how to use RCT and explain it to me like a good underclassman!"

"I'd prefer to have a responsible upperclassman who learns on his own and teaches me instead," came the instant rebuttal from the practical sorcerer-in-training.

"Where's the fun in tradition?"

One last sigh of amusement later, you look at your hands thoughtfully. Rejection. A tiny shield stands tall in front your palm. But if we're talking about missing a few puzzle pieces, I'm assed out too. You sigh as Rejection dissipates. Why can't you have six little faerie creatures to help you create a variety of shields too? When it comes to you second years, it's easy explaining the roles you have based on ability alone.

You're the tank, Shoko's the healer and Getou and Gojou are both different flavors of DPS. That's not necessarily a problem, you know. Even the basics of cursed energy usage can exorcise a curse, but when it comes down to it ー you are your partner are both supports and having a bit of an offensive kick would come in handy at some point in the future.

So you decided at the beginning of second year that if you already were teetering the line of coincidentally ripping off Inoue Orihime's technique, why not go for the full thing and try mimicking the rest too? Your first assignment, creating a shield that sends back the damage and finally start stepping in the direction of acquiring an offensive move set.

It's just been a bit of a work-in-progress developing the technique in secret mostly because you have no idea what you're doing beyond the general principle of what you want to do. Dissonance and Disconnect will be your masterpieces ー whenever you manage to them figure out.

There's a tap on your shoulder, "[First]," Shoko taps you once again. "Help me carry back drinks from the vending machine?"

"Yeah, I got you," you'll figure out your masterpieces later then.

Together the two of you made your way to the nearest vending machine to the training grounds. It's not terribly far but it isn't particularly close either. You grumbled over this fact more than enough during your first year. You understand the lack of students means a lack of vending machines, but it would still be nice if this particular vending machine was close enough you didn't have to walk twenty minutes to get to it. "Do you think we could move it ourselves, actually?"

"Do you really feel like carrying that thing down a flight of stairs?"

"Never mind," you groan.

It's part way through your quest to quench everyone else's thirst when you see him. A boy donned in navy blue and gray traditional clothes and dirty blond hair with dark tips. He's certainly no student of Tokyo Tech, you perk up in realization. The boy is cute, you think. "You're one of the Kyoto students, right?" You wave politely as he glances at you. "We can help you if you're lost."

Amber eyes look you up and down before the boy turns to Shoko alone, "When I heard you were enrolling I was surprised, Ieiri," you can't stop your head from tilting, wide eyes blinking in surprise. "Considering all you're good for is healing your peers, you'd think your family wouldn't invest in your education. Especially considering

"Hey," you glare, sticking a friend out in front of your friend. "The only ones who gets to mess with one of us, is us." It's a privilege, not a right. "And all things considered, since Shoko's able to do shit you clearly can't, you shouldn't be running your mouth."

Amber eyes point your way again as the boy actually addresses you, "you must be the foreigner, your accent is very apparent." You have an accent, what of it? You learned Japanese from the ground and you were proud of the progress. No one can take away from you, least of all this guy. "If anyone shouldn't be speaking here, it's the one from a country so backwater you had to come to a foreign land to learn anything about sorcery."

"Naoya," Shoko finally speaks, mouth pulled into a frown. So this is the face you can put with the name Zenin Naoya. "How horrible to see you too. If you're looking to talk to Gojou and Getou, they're in that direction." The brunette thumbs behind herself in the direction you both came from. "Otherwise, you're a long ways off from the rooms the Kyoto students are supposed to be staying in."

You aren't sure what the boy has to be smirking about and you wonder how much trouble you'd get in if you tried punching him. "I know where I'm heading," the first year states, crossing his arms. "I wanted to see the Six Eyes of the Gojou Clan myself. But it'll be something to see the other special-grade as well."

"Yeah well get a good look at the dudes who are going to kick your-"

"Naoya," a deep voice interjects growing tensions. For once, something akin to a scowl dons Naoya's face as his expression shifts to annoyance. "You said you wouldn't antagonize the Tokyo students if I let you off on your own."

"That wasn't antagonizing, that was small talk," his upperclassman's face tells you he doesn't believe that one bit.

He's tall, albeit not as tall as Gojou or Suguru, with black hair with a dyed streak of green in his bangs."Sorry about our first year," the Kyoto senior bows with an exasperated sigh. You don't envy what he has to deal with. If Naoya had been included in the batch of first years Tokyo Tech received, you're sure you would have transferred schools. Or maybe you would have stayed out of spite. "I'll deal with him."

"Please see that you do," your cheek muscles ache from how forcefully you are smiling. What the actual hell is wrong with that guy? You side-eye your partner as the Kyoto first year skulks off, likely ignoring the scolding his upperclassman is giving him. "Why doesn't he have a hate club?"

"Believe it or not, that's not even as bad as he gets. That was actually Naoya at his best," Shoko has to be joking. This is another one of her dry humor jokes. Unfortunately, there's not even a wink of playfulness in her eyes. If that's this guy's best, I don't want to see what his worst is. "The rest of us were in a secret Hope Naoya Gets Homeschooled Alliance. Sadly all our efforts have clearly been for naught."

"Yeah, you guys really should have tried harder," you aren't sure there is any word in any language that could best describe him besides 'worst' and 'brat. And you know what? He isn't even that cute! The culmination of terrible traits in asshole shoujosei love interests created a terrible creature. I'll never say Gojou's a waste of a pretty face ever again. 

Even at Gojou's absolute worse, he's never held a candle to the display of disrespect you bore witness to. "I really need us to win this year. I am so serious if we lose to that pompous asshole, I'll quit being a sorcerer because I refuse to accept defeat from him. Matter of fact," you cross your arms obstinately. "I know we're winning this year and I can't wait to see his walk of shame out of Tokyo. It isn't enough for him to lose, he has to be utterly humiliated."

"I hope he fights Getou," your rant certainly appeals to the brunette who nods in agreement. "It would have been better if Getou was a girl," despite the disappointment that is your reality, Shoko's eyes dance with mischief. "But either way, he'll hate losing to someone who comes from a non-sorcerer family the most." At your look, Shoko blinks in realization. "Right, you wouldn't know. The Zenin's have a saying that basically boils down to the only sorcerer's worth their salt are from the Zenin family, but a non-sorcerer is basically less than human."

Every time you learn something new about the Amazing Sexists, the less you like what you hear. "Geez that family sounds like a real piece of work," you stick out your tongue in annoyance. "I want him to fight Gojou," you nod to yourself in satisfaction. "Their families hate each other, right? So if he loses to him I just know his parents will be pissed. 'How dare you lose to the son of the Gojou family! You're no son of ours! Leave this house!' or something like that."

Shoko's bob dances as she shakes her head, "doubt it. When you're that strong, winning is guaranteed. They'd be disappointed but not surprised, if anything."

"Why 'cause Gojou's a special-grade?" You purse your lips in your prodding. "Because if that's what we're going off of Suguru's got the win in the bag too. Or is it the Gojou comes from sorcerer family thing?"

"Partly the latter," Shoko admits. "But I told you before already. Gojou's pretty much a legend to sorcerers," yes, it is hard to forget when everyone talked about it. "They'd expect a loss if Naoya had to fight him. Maybe if he had the Ten Shadows they'd think he had a fighting chance, but I doubt he does because it would be talked about all over if he inherited it."

Has Gojou always been so... Your mind struggles for the right word. It dawns on you then that Naoya had referred to him as the Six Eyes instead of Gojou's family or given name. Objectified? It's an unpleasant feeling to admit to yourself that he is. Even slightly more so as you try to recall if you've done so yourself and how much you may if you did. You're sure you have. You must have. What else were the bulk of your rants with Utahime were about if Gojou ever organically came up in conversation?

"He's still just some guy," you wonder if your words are more meant to self-soothe than a solid argument. "He thinks eating pancakes is substantial for dinner. I don't know how he's never had a cavity."

"A guy who'll be in the future Jujutsu Tech textbooks and we won't even be footnotes," Shoko sighs at her joke of self-deprecation. "But yeah, it's too bad they won't have anything in there about how he eats his weight in junk food." She pulls out a piece of paper where she has everyone else's desired drinks scrawled on. "Anyway, let's finish getting the drinks."

ー

This isn't the first time you've come out to the training grounds past curfew, but you would have head in by now.

Perhaps it's your irritation at Naoya that has you practicing longer than usual. Or perhaps it's your own inability to advance your technique and the frustration beginning to boil over. It's likely a mixture of both. It's well-past dinner and the sun has set for the evening, your only light source being a lantern you took out of the storage shed.

If there's another thing this school needs, it is stadium lights for the training grounds.

"Uwah," You look behind you, noticing the approaching footsteps and you spot a familiar head of messy white hair. "I would have thought you were sneaking off somewhere more exciting."

"How'd you know I was sneaking out?"

"Was up playing Momotetsu a few times and I saw your cursed energy moving around," Gojou shrugs. It truly is hard to hide anything from those eyes. You wondered in the past if his ocular abilities were passive or something that needed to be activated. When you saw his eyes glowing in the past, you came to the conclusion it's a mixture of both depending on what he needed to see. His sunglasses are on but in your dark surroundings, you don't see any signs of azure glow. Seeing cursed energy must be one of the passives. "Finally got curious to see where you heading off the past couple weeks. Didn't expect it to be here."

"Well now you know," you rest a hand on your hip. "Go back to playing Momotetsu."

Gojou dropped a hand above his hidden eyes as if blocking out the sun, "Nah, I'm looking for Orihime's faeries now, they're out here somewhere," haha very funny, Gojou hasn't said that one before. Ever. His grin widens as he takes in the unamused roll of your eyes. "What are you doing back out here? I could hear your big feet clunking around even with my walkman on."

"If you must know," you ignore his last jab petulantly as he comes closer. "I'm trying to evolve how Rejection works by ripping off Orihime's moves. Sadly these faeries aren't worth shit, they're stingy and only work for her." That earns a snicker from your new audience and that manages to make you perk up. "Jokes aside though, I'm pretty sure I can make Rejection be a return-to-sender and even get it to cut things in half if I try hard enough. So I've been trying it out."

"Must suck not having a users manual," Gojou whistles.

You huff in agreement, kicking a nearby pebble. "Who are you telling?" That's the trial-and-error of coming from non-sorcerer families. Everything you learn about your cursed technique is through figuring it out on your own. Weird glowing orb thing? It's was just Suguru doing as dumb kids do when he decided to swallow it and see what would happen. You didn't even start using Rejection until you were 10, well past the usual date of ability manifestation, all because of an accident. "But if I look at it from a different angle, this just means there's no pre-existing guide to tell me Rejection can't do this or that. I test out those limits myself and be the one who makes the guide."

And if you ever had kids, they'd be the beneficiaries. If you ever lived long enough to get to the point you'd start considering them. You shake head, physically tossing the thoughts out of your brain. "Anyways, like I said, I'm going all in on the copyright infringement. What Kubo doesn't know won't hurt him," you chuckle to yourself. "So I'm starting out with trying to get Rejection to return attack energy back at specific triggers."

Gojou looks between you and the noticeably empty space in front of you. You can already tell what your classmate is thinking ー must be pretty difficult when there's literally nothing to shoot anything at what you put up. "... and you're doing that how?"

You puff your cheeks sheepishly, glancing pointedly in a different direction, "Casper's been a great assistant to me lately."

"So all you've been doing is wasting cursed energy and hoping something happens?"

"On the bright side, I've gotten really good at putting my technique up with various poses over the past couple weeks," you offer weakly with a cough. So far you've mastered the Jotaro Kujo point, the Okuyasu The Hand swipe and the Kakyoin Emerald Splash.

That comment gets you a light swat to the back of your head and you move to elbow him back, but you only meet the infinity between you both. "Just get to posing out your shields and I'll blast cursed energy at it," Gojou flicks his fingers back in a shooing motion as he walks a couple meters away from you. Before you can even attempt to dissuade him, he's already in position. "Tell Casper to take a hike for a while. You don't pay him enough to do overtime."

"You'll help me?" You've never trained personally with Gojou. Likely because neither of you felt the need. You didn't like him and you likely weren't someone worth training with from his perspective. You'd sooner expect Hell to freeze over. It must have frozen over then.

"I don't know how you're planning on making a shield that shoots back attacks without actually having something shot at it," he shrugs in the dim light of the lantern. "And I'm already out here."

"You know what," you rest your hands on your hips. "Dinner's on me tonight, what do you want? This is gonna work up an appetite for me and you eat like a horse anyway."

"Seriously?"

"Just don't say pancakes. Or waffles," you rack your brain for different loopholes. "Actually, I'm putting in stipulations ー there needs to be a protein and a vegetable, bare minimum. I'm making sure you eat actual food tonight." You're pretty sure there's salmon leftover from the other night from when Nanami cooked. And I could sauté the spinach so he doesn't complain much. "Salmon, sauteed spinach and something else. I don't want this to take forever so I guess I'll just go with rice since it's already late." Rice it'll be then. "This is your reward for helping me!"

There's a decent-sized blast of energy that hurls in your direction. "Um, excuse me, I thought I was supposed to pick what we eat?"

"Rejection!" True to your word, you point as if you're the JoJo of Stardust Crusaders. There's no energy that shoots back in Gojou's direction, but you'll figure out a pattern before the night is over. Maybe I should try something where Rejection can pocket that energy and then it gets shot back? "I changed my mind," you snort. "You're eating what I make and you'll like it. I don't need you dying of a sugar coma before the Exchange Event properly begins."

"Oh come on, it's a treat for helping you out, shouldn't I call the shots here?" The pouting begins much to your lack of surprise. "What sort of reward dinner is this? If this is how you treat them, I can see why the faeries didn't want to help you out!"

"Do you want a free dinner?" When there's no slick comment shot your way, you consider this a victory. "Beat Zenin Naoya's ass to kingdom come and maybe I'll consider making something you want without any sort of fine print. Do we got ourselves a deal?"

There's a smile in Gojou's voice. A smug smile, but it is in his tone nonetheless while he speaks, "I'd do that even if there wasn't a free meal on the line, you know."

index | previous chapter | next chapter

Extra

And we're back to our usually scheduled programming. I update once per week for four weeks, two week hiatus, then back to consistent updates. At least, that's what I decided on other platforms to give myself a break here and there.

Admittedly the Orihime copyright infringement joke is one of the few jokes I've been waiting to make. Glad this moment is finally here.

You also finally get to meet your buddies from middle school, Tooru and Chinatsu. There's another buddy too but he's a special case who won't be showing up for some chapters. I honestly have an entire mini TV series worth of shenanigans concerning this friend group but y'all will just have the tip of the iceberg. Hopefully when that gets touched on in a future chapter, you guys will find it as amusing as I do. Like I made it a point to mention, the Reader really wants to hold onto what she can of her non-sorcerer life. She's "*Miles Morales voice* I can do both" about it

Anyways, you and Gojou are bonding some more and it doesn't relate to food. This is growth. Reblogs and Likes appreciated.

[mayasaurusss]

Chapter one: Old tales.

Warnings: midly detailed description of wounds, not totally proof-read, gramamtical errors.

A/n: I'm really really scared to publish this (I'm shttng myself). The title is not really for my liking, maybe I will change it. English is not my native language so there may be some errors. Words: 4k and 500

"...will replace number eleven, Allie, after her accidental injury due to breaking her leg during practice" you heard coach Ben's words, but didn't fully register them yet.

Mere days have passed since Allie broke her leg, or to be exact, her leg was broken by Taissa.

When Allie broke her leg, you were on the bench, having had to swap with her during practice. You were relaxing, enjoying the sun when Misty walked over to you and started rambling about the most random things she could say, something about a philosopher, Misty was Misty after all. You weren’t really sure on how to even talk to her, so you just stayed silent, nodding sometimes while she talked, but your mind didn’t register anything of what she said. Misty-trance was so strong that, at first, you didn’t hear Allie screaming in agony. Your mind went into panic mode only when Misty bolted from her seat next to you to the green field: from your position on the bench you couldn’t see it but as you got closer to the scene, you saw Allie clenching her leg, her bone sticking out, pure white contrasting with the deep red of her flesh.

"... did you hear me?" you hear your name begin called, you peered at coach Ben.

"...What?"

"I asked if you'd like to replace Allie as the winger for the Nationals," coach repeated himself.

"Sure..." your voice was small, truth to be told, you weren't sure of this decision.

You weren't that brilliant as a player, certainly not that better than Allie, but at least you could fulfill your duty pretty well, you just weren't that certain you could perform well in such a big game. And, you weren’t exactly the most loved player of the team.

When you looked up, you could see all your teammates look at you weirdly, judging you and your absent demeanor.

"Despite what happened to Allie, we're gonna go to the Nationals, we're going to go and we're going to win, all right?" Ben said to the team, not receiving a response.

"All right?"

"Yes coach" the team responded in unison.

You gathered your things, heading out of the changing room when Shauna approached.

"Hey, are you all right? You seemed a bit shaken up before" Shuna Shipman was one of the few people in the team that talked to you, you used to be more of a loner but she and Jackie too, sometimes involved you in their conversation, you didn’t know if they did it out of pity or real interest.

"I am ok, I think. I'm just scared that I'm not gonna live up to the team's expectations, that's all".

Shauna smiled at you, "You're going to be great, don't worry, you'll just have to think you're playing during one of our practices".

"Thanks Shauna" she could always be kind, though her eyes were so deep and dark you felt lost looking at them, making you feel little and scared.

"The team will go to a party today to celebrate our success, are you going to come?" she asked.

"I don't know, I think I'm going to go back home tonight so I can spend the last night with my parents" you answered Shauna, you knew from deep down that as soon as you said that, you doomed yourself to 'unsocial girl' of the group.

“I see…” Shauna’s gaze felt heavy on you.

“Well, I’m gonna go” you slumped your bag over your shoulder and bid goodbye to Shauna, getting out of the changing room.

Rain pours heavily, pooling at your feet and wetting every inch of you, your shoes sink in cold puddles and your skin feels uncomfortably damp. 

You had been walking for half an hour, being that your home was in the outskirts of Wiskayok and the bus hadn’t yet come, your best chance was walking to another bus stop and waiting there; walking under the rain had proved to be more challenging than you thought, especially when the wet asphalt made you slip. 

At last you arrived at the bus stop and shielded yourself from the heavy rain. You sat on the bench, waiting for the bus which  had to come in a few minutes now, so preoccupied with trying not to slip and break a bone you had almost lost track of time and missed the bus.

You hold your face in yout hands, retaking in the events of the day and wishing Allie wouldn’t have broken her leg: you couldn’t perform well under pressure at all, you remeber once when you had to perform a penalty shoot during pratice and failed miserably, while all of the team watched you. The thought of people watching, watching you inevitably fail made you recoil in fear. 

A sudden noise interrupted your thoughts, something moved just inches away from you, hiding in the corner of the bus stop. You couldn’t make it out in the darkness, but your ears picked up on the fact that whatever it was small or certainly small enough for you to defend yourself. You jolted up, arms at your side tightening and muscles moving under the skin, ready to flight at any second. 

A ruff of red puffed out from the shadows, followed by a movement, whatever it was was now turning on you, having heard your noises. Two pairs of golden eyes peered at you from under the dark, studying your form and stance; maybe it was scared of you too. Slowly, ever so slowly, from the dark corner a fox appeared: it was bigger than you imagined, it was as tall as half of your leg, red and orange and white shades coloured its fur. It looked soft, the kind of fur that shielded from the cold winds of winter, a thin layer of what seemed to look like snow heaved on the tip of its coat and nose, tinting it white. Golden eyes reflected the dim street lights, giving it an eerie human look. It didn’t seem malicious, but there certainly was something unnerving in its presence.

“There shouldn't be any snow on you, it’s raining…” your voice was small, almost muffled, like sound and time stopped right here, under the roof of the bus stop. 

It continued to watch you, you, you, you in the eyes, your face, how you were. For a small second, you felt tightly connected with it.

Something talked, you didn’t know if it was your brain, your subconscious or the fox magically knew how to telepathically communicate with you but you heard thousand of tree whispers and thousand of voices reunited and combined to talk to you, to say “Come”.

Your skin freezed, blood running cold in your veins and feeling like it dripped from your fingers onto the floor. Goosebumps fell down your spine and in your mouth flooded the taste of blood, you had bit your tongue in fear.  

The fox watched you, puffing its chest and with hurry, ran behind the bus stop into the dark woods. You didn't know what compelled you to do it, but you followed it, cornering around the stop expecting to see it waiting for you at the line of the trees, but you found nothing staring at you beside the darkness. 

Lights shined through the rain, finally the bus had come. With newfound energy, you sprinted in it and almost tumbled over, making the driver eye you in confusion. You searched for a seat, finding it in the middle of the bus. You were still shaken up, not by the fact that you encountered a possibly dangerous wild animal, but at the fact that something talked clearly at you. Arms wrapping themselves you didn't fail to notice a small pair of golden eyes watching you from the darkness and as the bus moved, you lost sight of them.

“Come”.

“Mhm…no”

Shauna moves back to the clothes, changing once again her dress.

"You know, there’s Randy tonight at the party”. 

Huh? Why did she brought up Randy? I don't care about him.

“...ok” Shauna once again changed, once again she received the same response from her best friend.

“He asked Jeff to ask me if you’re gonna be there”

“Randy? Really?”

“What? I just thought you wanted to know if someone asked about you”

Wow, ok.

“Shauna, just put on the red dress I gave you”

Am I your dress-up doll Jackie?

“Maybe I don’t want to wear the red dress, and I’m sure as hell I don’t want to hook up with Randy -fucking- Walsh!”

Why can’t you see me? I don’t want to be with Randy, I want…

Jackie was taken back from Shauna's sudden outburst “Jeez, what crawled up your ass? Just put on whatever you want…”

“Thanks, I will”

The room filled with uncomfortable silence. Jackie felt like she just managed to ruin the night for both her and Shauna.

“...You’re probably right about Randy, you know? I once saw him having trouble with an escalator” 

Shauna cracked a smile, even in the most dire situations Jackie never failed to make her laugh “I once heard him ask who invented the Pope”.

Around 9 a.m, most of the soccer team arrived. There was a faint smell of earth in the air, covered by the smell of booze and fire. 

Shauna had followed after Jackie, just like the shadow Jackie wanted her to be -or did she want to be Jackie’s shadow?- she stood out among the other girl friends, she knew she didn’t belong here. 

Shauna stopped Jackie from dancing with her, her stomach clenching “Wait, l need a second” without waiting for a response, she walked away and Jackie did not bother following her. 

Shauna leaned against a pickup, watching Jackie in the distance.

To her, in that instant, while she was enjoying her night with her friends she looked ethereal. Shauna could not understand if she wanted to be with Jackie, if she wanted to be Jackie or if she wanted to consume her. Shauna can’t understand if what she’s feeling is longing, loneliness or anger, anger towards Jackie, for not spending time with her, for not begin with her. Shauna chugged down the alcohol burning her throat. Her emotions were too much, she had to go away, to get away from Jackie,  it didn’t help that behind her Randy fucking Walsh was drunk off his ass and bothering her. 

She had to release her pent up energy, -she had to get Jackie’s attention- , so she walked to where Taissa was, willing to start a fight.

“I admire your resilience Tai” Shauna’s voice was bitter, deliberately trying to get Tai angry and argue with her.  “It can’t be easy, knowing you fucking crippled someone today”

“Cool, good talk”. A vein in Shauna’s head pulsed “Just admit you did it on purpose” she yelled, “Excuse me?”

Away from her, Laura Lee recognized her teammates voices, she saw Taissa and Shauna talk to each other.

“Woah, calm down”

“No, listen you guys, we don't have to worry about the ‘Allie problem’ anymore because Taissa fixed it for us!”

Laura Lee walked over to the scene, leaning near Natalie “What is she talking about?” she asked. 

“She’s talking about Taissa having a plan”

Taissa visibly rolled her eyes at their exchange “Oh please, since when do you give a shit anyway? Don’t you have a bong to hit or a dick to suck?”

“Don’t talk to her that way”

“Fuck off Shauna! I don’t need you to defend me! Last time I checked you were fine with ‘freezing her out’”

“Ok, seriously, what are you guys talking about?”

“Shut the fuck up, Laura Lee!”

The atmosphere got heated, both Taissa and Shuna were too stubborn to let the other one ‘win the fight’ .

“Somebody needs to take her wasted ass home”

“Say that again you bitch!”. A fight broke between the group, everyone screaming their asses off.

“Enough!” Jackie screamed, the others hushed.  Everyone was watching the group, all the eyes of the party on them.

“Yellowjackets, with me!” Jackie said, leading the group to a secluded space.

“I don’t know what the fuck that was, but I do know it’s over”  Shauna shifted uncomfortably under Jackie’s gaze.

“We are about to go to Nationals, and based on what I’m looking at right now, we might not even bother getting on that plane” the underlying message wasn’t missed by the team: they weren’t close enough, they weren’t ready enough.

“Alright, everybody line up. I’m fucking serious, line up, come on!” The girls lined up one near the other, waiting for Jackie’ orders “I wan’t each of you to go down this line and say one nice, true thing about every other girl on this team”

“What is this, fucking girl scout?” Taissa's annoyed voice whispered to Van. “Who wants to go first?” Jackie asked. Laura Lee smiled “I’ll go Jackie”

She walked over to Taissa, looked her in the eyes and took her hands in hers, “Taissa, you’re beautiful in the eyes of our Lord” making Taissa smile -maybe more like trying to hold her laugh-. Laura Lee moved to Van, repeating herself when she was interrupted, everyone laughing. Everyone in the group moved, going to ‘say something nice and true’ to their teammates.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier” Shauna said to Tai, dark eyes burning a hole in Tai’s skin. Taissa looked at Shauna, voice unsure and laced with regret “I didn’t -you know- mean to…hurt her” 

“...ok” 

Laura Lee walked to Lottie, her hands rubbing nervously: sometimes Lottie made her tense. She didn’t know if it was out of fear or respect for the girl, or if it was some sort of other emotion plaguing her heart.  With a bit of uncertainty, Laura Lee looked up at her teammate, “Lottie, you’re really tall, you are one of the best players in the team, and I  admire your strength. And, you're beautiful in our Lord's eyes”. Lottie just smiled, that smile that reassured Laura Lee that everything would be fine “Laura Lee, you have a beautiful soul and you are a great friend. I admire your devotion” Lottie said.

“Thanks, really. Wouldn’t you want to spend some words for Y/n?”

Suddenly, Lottie’s voice got sour, her brown knitted together  “Why would I want that? It’s not like she’s here, no?”

Laura Lee knew that by how Lottie reacted, she had unknowingly pushed something inside her: Lottie had tried and failed to be friends with the other girl, but the -Operation: become friends- had failed on both ends because of Lottie stubbornness (and secret shyness) and the other girl not knowing how to relate herself with others.

“I know it’s just that she’s not really part of our group and I feel bad for her...”

“If she wanted to be part of our group, she would’ve come” Lottie wanted to go away, the air seemed thick now and a faint headache was starting to form. She started to walk away when Laura Lee stopped her, grabbing her arm.

“I understand why you would think so, but I think she's just shy or lonley. Maybe she requires a bit more of work to get her to open up her shell”.  She took Lottie’s hands in hers, rubbing at the skin to soothe the other girl's tension.

“You should aske her to sit next to you on the flight” .

“...alright”.

You stumbled into your home, leaving a wet trail behind you. The house was dark, dark and cold, shadows looming over the corners of the room.

I hope no foxes magically get out of them and make me shit myself, you thought with a bitter smile, still not feeling completly safe.

You called out for your parents but no one answered. Taking your phone out you saw a missed called and a message from your father

“Hey kid, just a heads up, me and your mother are going on a date, we will be home late tonight, in the fridge there’s a leftover pizza. Be safe”.

You sighed, you couldn’t blame this on them really, you knew they had a date and they still didn’t know that you’d be gone to the Nationals soon, besides you still had a few days to spend with them. 

After dinner, you went upstairs to your bedroom. It’s dimly lit, shadows creep in the high corners, making your skin crawl. On the nightstand, an old copy of ‘Grimm’s Tales’ sat, the one that your grandfather gave to you some weeks before passing, when you were just eight. It was meant for children apparently, but it was more like pages of pages of inducing nightmares stories: young women envied by queens, of children in woods being chased by wolves or finding an evil witch house. You were still reading when you fell asleep.

That night you dreamt. You dreamt of thousands of trees, branches tangling with each other so much that you couldn’t see the dark night sky. The woods were silent, fog embraced them and not giving you enough space to see. In the distance a howl echoed out, something that sounded angry, angry and hungry. Your skin crawled, cold shivers running down your spine and without thinking, you ran. 

You ran not knowing where to go, without guidance while the howl got closer and closer, branches scratching at your skin staining it of red. The howl multiplied, as if whatever was chasing you had called its companions. Skin bloodied, lungs burning in pain, eyes watering, sky crashing on you. 

Finally your energies gave out, mouth tasting the dirt beneath you. Something grasped at your body, hands prying you up, someone was holding you to their front, brushing your hair out of their way to your neck. You felt someone biting at your jugular, blood oozing from the open wound. Hands, so many hands touched your skin, clawed at it, brushed your blood away from bruises into the dark surrounding you. Teeth, thousands of teeth clenching your skin, grounding on it, ripping it open, eating like the prey you were, like a fox caught between the jaws of a bear.

You woke up from your nightmare, sweaty and with a heart beating irregularly. 2:02 am. You looked at your book still open in your hands, fingers keeping it open on the middle of 'Red Riding Hood'. Your body fell back on the bed, sleep overcoming once again.  “I really shouldn’t keep on reading these books…” 

On the other side of town, Lottie dreamt too. But hers was a good dream unlike the ones she had the previous weeks. Lottie wouldn't wish anyone to know but she too was scared of playing in the Nationals; the tension is what to her the the woods looked more alive than ever now, she did so much to keep them alive, offered so much of herself to the woods that now they thanked her in return. The voice spoke to her, whispering through the trees, animals and wind and leaves all swirled togheter to create It. 

She wouldn’t give this gift to any one, the times she tried talking about it, talking with her parents, her father got mad and screamed at her mother - “Lottie doesn’t see the future, she’s not normal. We’re taking her to a child psychiatrist”-.

She never understood if he did it out of love or disinterest to have her around. It favored her, this secret is just for her. Before coming to have an audience with it, she had positioned small wooden dolls in a circle, one for each of them.  But they were sad. She couldn’t understand why,

Why are you crying? Yes, it began snowing and it's cold but can’t you hear It? 

Why? Can’t you hear Its voice? 

Can’t you hear the woods?

Finally it was the morning of your flight. You got up at five am, too nervous to go back to sleep and started to recap if you got everything for the trip. At seven am you had eaten breakfast with your parents and bid goodbye to your mom, kissing her on the cheek “Be safe”. 

Your father drew you to the airport, “Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you near the plane? Your bags are heavy”; bless your mother, even if you did pack enough, she just had to help you pack, inevitably heaving you down “Take this sweater if it’s cold, you never know, and these pants, and this shirt, and these…” you had to physically stop her to pack more.

“I think I’m capable of carrying them on my own, I don’t want the other girls to see me as a ‘daddy’s-girl’”.

You got out of the car, grabbed all your bags and walked to the driver seat “Alright then, have you packed enough?” you looked at your father with a look that said ‘seriously?’.

“Fair enough…”

Your dad ruffled your hair, “Call when you get there, ok? Become a champion”. You gave him a corny smile, “Sure dad”.

“Have a safe flight!”, he drove away, you watched as the small car disappeared from your sight then walked to where your teammates were.  When you got there, all the team saw was a make-shift Santa Claus coming to them.

“Heyyy, forgot to pack something? Mommy helped you?” Tai said to you sarcastically. 

“Tai, enough” Van answered, making her friend scoff. The bags hit the floor, you let out a heavy sigh at the action finally free from the weight. “Don't mind her, she's just a bitter asshole”, Taissa scoffed at her friend “Oh fuck off”.

Lottie and Laura Lee were close, watching the exchange between you and Van “Lottie! Come on, go!” she wisphered to her taller friend. Lottie shifted uncomfortably on her legs, hands rubbing together behind her back, she walked to where you were, followed by Laura Lee “Hey…” her called, small and unsure “Hi”.

Lottie wasn’t one to be awkward, most of the time, but confronting you one on one made her feel less confident in herself and

“So, uhm… how are you today?” she cringed at herself. 

"You should ask her to sit next to you on the trip" Laura Lee voice chimed in her head

“Huh…good, I think? How are you?”

“I see, uh, yeah yeah, I’m good too”

Silence fell over you, both not making an effort in trying to make small talk. 

The staff announced that they were ready to leave.

Van chimed near you, draggin you with her “Hey, you want to sit next to me? We should be friends” she playfully said to you.  Laura Lee sighed, “Oh... We'll get to know her once we land” she patted her teammate on the shoulder.

The inside of the plane was modern, everyone was mouth agape.

Van laughed “I’ can’t believe your dad paid for a private plane”

“It’s pretty much his only form of parenting. I guess I’ll take it”

“Well, thank you, Mr Matthews!”

Every girl in the team sat, Van tugged you with her near her seat, you fell between her and the window. 

“So, what do you like?” Van asked, a smile forming on her lips

“W-What?”

“What do you like? As in movies, games, magazines? Is there something you even like?” 

Oh, did she want to sit with me to make fun of me? 

“Uhm… The last movie I got to see in theaters was 'Intervew with the Vampire'...but that was sometime ago ”.

“No way! Really?! Did you go alone?”.

“Yes…”

Her mouth was agape with shock, “Wow, I wouldn’t have your courage, you know? I like those movies -well, I like slashers more- but if I’d see one alone, I have nightmares for weeks” . You smiled and laughed with her, she was trying to make you feel less lonley “The last movies I have seen were ‘Halloween' and ‘Braveheart’”.

“What’s that last one about?”

“A drag queen fights the English army”.

“What?!” you laughed wholeheartedly with Van, she was holding your arm in a subtle effort to include you more and more into this conversation.  “You know, there’s this movie that's supposed to come out in december, it’s called ‘Scream’ and it’s supposedly a slasher, I can’t wait to see it. I’m gonna need someone to keep me company though, I'm not really that brave”.

You looked at her “Whit who?” asked, “Maybe you, maybe Taissa”.

“Ohhhh, I see”

She playfully shoved you, “What do you ‘see’, moron?”.

After a while of talking, your eyelids started to get heavier, begging you to take just a tiny nap.  “I think I’m going to sleep for a bit, I’ve woken up so early today…”

“Sure, I’ll wake you up when we got there”. You closed your eyes, sleep overcame you faster than you expected.

You were hungry, you finally managed to catch dinner after a while of running and biting and howling in the woods, she fell so dumbly into the trap, you wouldn’t ever die like this if you were in her position.  Blood runs down to earth, tinting the snow red.  She was so stupid to get caught.  The queen had made you wait, telling you that a meal is far more filling when you are patient. But you had been patient for oh so long, always grumbling and biting at your own flesh to keep your hunger at bay. 

When the queen nodded, all moved to the dinner plate like hawks, bit and ripped and grounded the meat under their teeth, surrounded by the flickering lights of the torches. If one doesn't think too much of it, this was just like the holidays you used to have once, food and lights. After all, a family's most intimate moment is at the dinner table. None was left of her.  It was still watching you. 

Scream erupted from the deep woods, you looked at the trees, your hair disheveld, face dirty , a trail of blood running down on the right side and dripping from the chin. 

You woke up from your haze, screaming filled the plane. “Van?! Van, what’s happening?!” Van is desperately trying to get out something from the ceiling above you , punching and screaming while everyone around you was either hugging each other, passed out or panicking. You felt your fingers weakening, trying to help Van and failing to get out the oxygen masks, dizziness overcame your senses, breathing erratic, goosebumps on your skin, eyelids heavy.

Lottie took your hand, ushering you gently to follow her, “Come on”.

You felt something hot travel up on your arm.

“It’s time to go”.

What’s happening?

Green trees are getting closer, your eyes roll to the back of your head and you lose yourself.

“We have to hunt”.

Am I going to die?

“We have to eat”

I don’t want to die!

“Is the meat cooked well enough, dear?” 

Mom?

The plane is crashing.

“Did you liked dinner?”

L-Lottie?

You can't breathe.

Help me!

A voice called out to you in thousands of whispers. 

“Come”. 

[ldrfanatic]

when the sun came up

theodore nott x reader "13 series" part 7

warnings - gore, death, alterations to the original storyline (major), a little like half-assed angsty in the beginning

series masterlist <previous chapter next chapter>

slytherin boys works

The day that Theodore Nott left, something died inside of you. No one expected anything less really. And with Hermione gone as well, you quickly began to feel like you were just a floating ball of tears and need. An unquenchable kind of need that settled over you for days on end with no clear stop in sight. And it was no secret why.

Still, in the weeks that followed you found yourself holding tightly to Ginny Weasley, a new close friend of yours. She was perhaps the only person that truly understood. The two of you spent a lot of late nights just talking. Sometimes crying, and a lot of hours of worrying, but mostly just talking.

You snagged another orange slice as you looked out on the rolling fields through Ginny's bedroom window. "Everything is going to be so different. I've never really had Hogwarts without Theo." Ginny hummed in agreeance and you knew she understood.

A knock at the door caused the both of you to jump. By the confused look on Ginny's face, neither of you had a clue who it was.

"Yes?"

George's red head poked through the door. "The Order wants you downstairs," When Ginny stood with you, George gave her a sympathetic look. "Sorry, sis. Just Y/n."

Surprisingly, Ginny didn't argue. She just nodded and plopped back down on the bed. That should have been your first indication, but nonetheless, you followed George downstairs to where the Order had gathered around the Weasley kitchen table. All of the big members (what was left of them) were there. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Remus Lupin, Tonks, and of course, the Weasleys, born in and otherwise. It was almost comical to see so many people scrunched around the charming but rickety old dining room table.

"Now dear, we have something to tell you, and you can't freak out." Mrs. Weasley spoke first. Then an uncomfortable silence settled, before Remus continued.

"Our next mission is a raid." All eyes fixed on you nervously. "On Nott Manor."

As the words left his mouth, you were sure a curse hit you. Your ears immediately began ringing, and your mouth dried up almost instantly. "We're telling you this because we don't want you to do anything irrational. Our contact has told us that Nott Sr. has something very important to Voldemort's Supporters."

"I'm going."

You spoke before you realized the words were leaving your mouth.

"That's out of the question. There's a good chance Theodore will be there. Though we do not question the boy's loyalty, there's no telling how seeing him will sway your emotions."

Your eyes rolled so hard you actually feared they might stick to the back of your skull. "It's not like I'm gonna see him and explode with rage. I just want answers." You crossed your arms and popped your hip, facing the group before you with an unwavering stare. "Besides, do any of you actually know where Nott Manor is or how to get in?"

When silence followed, you nodded your head.

"That's what I thought. I do. Theo took me one year for Christmas when his father was still in Azkaban. You need me to get in."

Mrs. Weasley approached you with a stern look. Both of her hands cradled either side of your face. You didn't think you'd seen the woman so dead serious in your life.

"You keep your wits about you. Theodore may have been your first love, but he's never been the only person that loved you."

Looking at Nott Manor now it was hard not to remember the way it looked when you were there last December. It was the height of your relationship. Theo had taken to moving all of the living room furniture so that the two of you could dance in front of the fire while the snow fell outside the window.

Tonks, Remus, Mr. Weasley, Kingsley, and Bill had all accompanied you to Nott Manor. It wasn't a mission that demanded the full presence of the order, but it was deemed dangerous enough to bring at least a few of the heavy hitters.

You walked up to the large silver gates. There was a snake which was wrapped around the tops of the bars and sat up with it's jaws wide open in a 'hiss'. He slid across the top and wrapped around the center bar slithering downwards until it was hanging nearly halfway off, fangs now extended to you.

Your arm outstretched almost subconsciously. A memory flashed through your mind at you felt the snake's teeth pinch your skin to draw blood.

It was the day after Christmas. Theo had you outside of the gates which secured the impressive Nott estate. He held out his wand and muttered a few enchantments in an ancient sounding language. He took a vile of your blood which he'd carefully extracted with your permission and poured it into the snake's waiting mouth.

"You cannot tell anyone about this, Y/n," He turned to you with a serious look. "Typically, only someone of Nott descent may open the gates. But if you ever need somewhere safe to go. Come here, and hide in the cellar. I'll have it stocked for you. No one will find you there."

You were jarred from your reminiscence by a loud creaking. The enormous gates had swung open. What had looked like an immeasurable amount of trees began to split into a path. At the end of the cobblestone stood a darkly colored mansion. Flickering lights in the window confirmed that someone was home.

"Everyone be careful. There aren't supposed to be too many Death Eaters inside, but we haven't heard from anyone in a few weeks. This is primarily a rescue mission. Once someone has hands on Theodore, signal to the others and evacuate immediately."

The battle was over just as quickly as it began. In truth, only Mulciber and Nott Sr. were inside. They were standing around a beat up looking Theo, who'd been tied to a chair with magical bonds that took Remus a few tries to undo.

Once he'd succeeded, Mr. Weasley took the unconscious boy into his arms and you all quickly escaped the estate before more Death Eaters could follow. With nowhere to hold Mulciber and Nott Sr., you were forced to leave them on the floor.

After what seemed like an eternity, you made it back to the Burrow. Theo was resting soundly on the couch. Mrs. Weasley had taken to healing those of his injuries that she could while he slept.

Theo shot straight up on the couch when you sat on the chair next to him as though he sensed your presence.

"Y/n."

You immediately sprung to his side and began pushing him back into a laying position.

"Hey! You need rest. Matriarch's orders."

A cocky smirk pulled at his lips. His eyes were half closed and he stretched languidly. The sounds of popping joints filled the air.

"What are you smiling at?"

Theo shrugged with a half smile that tugged on your heartstrings.

"Just you. Fretting over me. It feels... familiar."

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest and your mouth dropped into a frown.

"Don't think I've forgotten about you leaving me. That was a really mean thing you did Theodore Aurelius Nott. And don't give me that 'protection bullshit'."

"It was to protect you."

"Theo, we were the only good thing in a really fucked up world. And you hit the brakes on us way too soon. I know it got dark, really dark, but the sun is up now. And here we are."

"I know, I know. It was so much. So scary to think I might lose you. I know I walked out, I know I used it as an excuse keep you safe. But I can't be without you. When I'm with you, the monsters are just... trees. The dark lifts when I'm with you. And now the sun is up. And here we are."

You reached over and squeezed Theo's hand.

"I'm still really upset with you. And we still have a lot of fighting ahead of us. But it feels like we're finally coming out of the woods."

<taglist>

@moonlightreader649 @svt-dk97 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess

[leonsdoll]

NEW STUDENT PT.2

--------------------------------------------------

part one

plot: the big school field trip is finally here and you hazel share a room

warnings: none, not proofread but I don't think I made any errors:)

word count: 0.9k

notes:thank you fruity ppl for the attention on pt.1🌚this is again boring so:3 anyways this if the last chapter y'all but I'm write smth else soon!! anyways I hope you enjoy this lame follow up🔥🙏🏼

--------------------------------------------------

for every senior class there was a special school trip, this year your school saved up money for it instead of taking you guys to a cheap motel an hour away like they've done the other years.

this year you guys are going to Venice. I mean sure you're staying at a hotel with no heater or locking doors but it's better than what they did last year. the flight was an excruciating 12 hours of students screaming, singing and trying to keep each other entertained, but when you got there it was sorta worth it...

when you got to your hotel everyone rushed out of the bus making your bag fall into a puddle of water, already off to a great start. inside it was very fancy looking...but also old looking, the walls were cracking and it smelled like a creepy old neighbor. the guides explained how the rooms would work, they were dividing it in boys and girls with each room having a king sized bed.

"okay so everyone is going in twos so partner up!" the teacher explained, everyone quickly chose their partner, you looked around and saw hazel alone, the only time you guys talked was her first day of school, sure you guys did exchange numbers but no one actually texted first. walking up to hazel you were building up the confidence to ask her to partner up, you tapped her shoulder and she turned around looking you in the eyes before dropping her gaze down to the ground.

"hey do you wanna stay in a room with me?" she looked up at you and nodded with a smile, you both went to your room and settled down, there was a knock at the door before the teacher peeked in telling you guys everyone was going out to dinner in an hour, after accepting the invite the door closed leaving you guys alone once again, "so are you going hazel?" you questioned hoping you had an excuse to sit by her and talk more.

"i don't know, I mean are you going?" she asked her voice cracking mid sentence, "yeah I am, if you don't wanna go that's fine I'll just tell the teacher tha-" you were quickly cut off by hazel, "if you're going I'm going so uhm..." you swear you could see her blush just a bit. after a good twenty minutes of getting ready, it was time to go, you and hazel walked out and met everyone else down stairs.

the restaurant was again fancy but old, is everything here fancy and old? you all sat down at your assigned seats, you obviously next to hazel, the waiter came by and you ordered something simple nothing too expensive. as people started talking and things got a little louder you thought it would be a great time to actually have a full conversation with hazel.

you turned to hazel and spoke,"how are you hazel? you know you never texted me" she turned to face you and got eyes slightly widened at what she would call your boldness, "oh sorry I forgot I guess...but uhm I'm good, how are you" hazel let out a breath she didn't even know she held in, you were shoked at her full not very awkward phrase.

"well I'm pretty good, life is pretty boring but I think this trip is gonna be fun" you smiled at an attempt to add some positivity to the conversation, so it's not just awkward lesbians trying to talk. "oh yeah they have some cool art museums here you know? I think we're going to some while we're here" you were not surprised by hazel's interest in art, you chuckled at hazel's enthusiasm about museums.

"well maybe you could tell me more about your interest mh? you thought letting her rant about things she likes would keep the conversation going and well it did! for the rest of the dinner she talked about her skills and other cool things about herself, you learned she can build a very "small" bomb and knew taekwondo, who knew she was so interesting?. when you got back to the hotel somehow it was already 10pm, you both got ready for bed and got into your guys shared bed.

you kept thinking about wanting to do something, like maybe kiss her? or maybe just share your feelings with her? you didn't know what exactly but you just had to do something, "hey haze?" you thought maybe using a silly nickname would maybe show her you've loosened up, she looked away from her phone and looked straight into your eyes, suddenly you wanted to back out but you couldn't, I mean what were you gonna tell her If not that you like her.

you put your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, "I think I like you" you quietly blurred out, her eyes widened before relaxing them, "oh well...I think I like you too" she couldn't contain the smile on her face and she felt her face get hot, you smiled back at her and moved closer to her, "can I kiss you" you said so quietly it was almost not even a whisper.

she moved closer to you and gently put her hands on the sides of your face, "yes, please" she whispered back, you leaned in and finally connected her lips to yours, her lips were soft and warm against yours, after a few more seconds of a sweet kiss she pulled away, you couldn't help but giggle a bit and smile, "does this mean we're like girlfriends now?" she asked you, you thought about it for a moment before responding, "yeah it does".

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 15)

Tw: just yandere but nothing much in this chapter, mentions of hospitalization

Vote for the chapter beloww im gonna start making the next part when it reaches 20 votes i do not give a shet beyond the first 20 ppl 💯 cause i wanna churn it out as fast as possible

part 16

He knows you're going to say no. That is why, Yves hasn't asked you to move in with him yet. Even if you did say yes, he knows deep down you would do it out of pressure and worse yet, resent him for flaunting his wealth. Yves has to be patient and make you think the relationship is going at your pace.

Your housemates had a field day with your landlord, ordering him around and whining about the condition of the house. He would begrudgingly agree to fix and pay for it, and if he showed the slightest bit of protest, they would yell out of Yves.

He doesn't even need to look in his general direction for your landlord to fold.

You still have no idea what the relationship is between him and Yves. If he was a coworker to him, why would your landlord be so afraid of someone on the same level?

Every time you ask Yves about him and the landlord, he would somehow manage to make you talk about yourself. When you caught your slip up, you would try again, he would smile sweetly and repeat the cycle.

At least you managed to find out that he worked as an attorney at some point in his life. That is most likely how he met your landlord, becoming his public defender or prosecutor when Yves was in his youth... even that wasn't made clear.

In the end, you decided to ask him one straight forward question:

'What are you doing at the University?'

That should be simple enough. You really hope he doesn't bring you on another trip of embarrassing yourself. Yves has that extraordinary talent of doing that.

He propped his head up on his elbow, he chuckled and shifted in his seat.

"Well, what do you think I'm doing at the University?"

You said you don't know. A studying? He's a student there?

"Then, that is what I am."

Is he?

"Perhaps." He crooned.

You pulled on your hair in exasperation. You asked why he won't give you straight answers.

"Can you look at me with a straight face?" Yves leaned forward, letting his luscious locks brush your arm.

You don't want to try, you know you can't. He's just too attractive and eerie at the same time. He laughed, his voice sounding like the loveliest melody to your ears.

"Oh, (name). You're so fun to tease." You whined when he tickled you under your chin.

You pulled away and pretend to drink from your mug to try and hide your embarrassment.

"Your cup has been empty for the last three minutes. What is there to drink, dear?" He stood up, smiling from your poor attempt to conceal your face as he picked up the kettle. "There is no need to hide your adorable face, no matter how flushed." He continued as he refilled his own mug.

You let out a loud 'damn' before pleading him to give you a break from his relentless ribbing. You knew he had a shit-eating grin even though his back is facing towards you.

He turned around, placed his filled cup on the table and took your empty one to refill it. Your teabag bounced around the water, releasing dark pigments and flavours to it.

Well, you know he likes tea. Jasmine and black tea are so far what you thought were his favorites.

When you stretched your arm to grab it, you noticed Yves staring at Montgomery's faded inked phone number with an empty expression. Which was jarring, because it was from a happy one.

You began stuttering and panicking. Yves merely stared you right in the eyes. Eventually, his gaze made you lock up. You don't know where to start. You don't know if you even want to tell Yves what happened at this point. It was a long story and an extremely stressful experience.

"You don't have to tell me what happened." He whispered, placing a hand on the top of your thigh and applying gentle pressure on it. "What can I do for you?"

You thought about it for a while. Then you eventually asked if he could dispose of your old medication for you. Yves looked at you expectedly, waiting for an explanation.

So you provided him with one; you had an allergic reaction that sent you to the hospital.

You began unravelling the details one by one. Being unable to sleep, trying to get some free drinks and snacks at the University, mistakenly bringing his powerbank instead, being kidnapped by Montgomery but he saved your life and paid for your bills, so you didn't rat him out. The 4 sandwiches and 2 hash browns you devoured, the $40 and the bus. And also how Montgomery wrote on your arm.

Yves watched you vent about the events that happened yesterday. He sipped on his tea as he listened, he didn't have to say another word for you to keep going endlessly.

He loves the sound of your voice, and to encourage you to keep going, he would provide subtle cues. Such as leaning towards you, nodding at the right time, maintaining eye contact and blinking appropriately.

With that, you're unstoppable. You kept talking and Yves kept listening. Yapping until the sun goes down and the sky goes dark.

Even by then, your landlord is still here fixing all the broken items he was supposed to take care of earlier.

Yves spared a glance at your landlord trudging up the stairs again after one of your housemates mentioned the flickering lights. A small smirk made its way to his lips, they're having their own fun, giving him and you some privacy in the kitchen.

__

You concluded your long-winded story and immediately after regained sentience. You looked around your surroundings and it's completely different. You're in your room, your lock is fixed, you're already fed and you're now on Yves's lap.

He's sitting crosslegged on the floor and you're sitting on the gap like a chair, his arms are cradling you close to him.

That was... easier than you expected. You got everything out in 5 hours. It's now 9pm.

"Thank you for telling me." Yves mumbled in your hair. You close your eyes and rest the side of your head against his chest. Neither of you had anything else to say, nor did you want Yves to comment on the events that happened.

You don't even know what you want him to do. That's why you're grateful he didn't ask you that question again. You didn't necessarily want Montgomery to face any criminal charges because you would feel guilty if he did.

However, you do wonder what Yves thinks of all of these.

"It was kind of that man to care for you in my absence. I appreciate that of him." As if he were reading your mind, he spoke once more. You nodded in agreement. "However, he is still delusional and demented. I do not know the full extent of his insanity." Yves knows.

"Regardless, I do appreciate the intent we share to ensure your safety and comfort. Even if he does it in an entirely different way than I would have approached it." He went on, holding you a smidge tighter to his body.

"What do you think about him?" He asked, twirling your hair around his fingers. You looked up at his face to see a soft gaze, you knew he wouldn't pass too much judgement on your opinion.

So you thought about your answer. Yves patiently waits for you and added to your growing collection of lipstick prints on your face.

[bloodiedrogue]

DO I KNOW YOU? (3)

SUMMARY: Miguel's been showing up at your house for months. And yet, you still have no idea who he is.

PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 4,810

WARNINGS: Angst, all hurt no comfort (sorry folks, I promise the comfort is coming just be patient), enemies-to-lovers adjacent, descriptions of a panic attack/dissociate behaviours.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, this chapter gave me such grief I'm just so fucking glad it's over. Enjoy! Please! For the sake of my sanity. :')

CHAPTER LIST / LAST CHAPTER / MASTERLIST

-

It’s been nearly two months since that first encounter. Two months of random, bloodied drop-ins, and you still have no idea who Miguel really is. 

At this point, you’ve spent weeks wondering. Every time you look at him it’s like you’re met with this overwhelming desire to discover new information —to explore the contents of his brain in a way that makes your own begin to race at the thought. Like you’re cracking some kind of code. Oftentimes, it takes over you entirely, pushing you further and further over that established boundary line towards the impending doom of another late-night argument neither of you wants to have. So far, it’s happened six times, each argument worse than the last, but despite that, you refuse to give up. 

“Okay, how about two truths, one lie?”

“Seriously?” 

Each time he shows up at your house battered and bruised, you find yourself coming up with new ways to attempt extorting information. Sometimes you outright ask, hoping he’ll simply give in. Sometimes you resort to bribery. Tonight though, after several weeks of partially un-consented arrivals, you’ve decided to try your luck with a game.

“No.”

Or not. 

“No?”

“I come here to rest, not play games.” 

“Okay well, house rules.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not, actually. House rules state you have to participate if you continue crashing on my couch.” 

Without missing a beat, he snorts, throwing his head back against the couch in frustration —something he always does whenever you’re being annoying and he isn’t sure how to proceed. 

“You know I’m still not gonna tell you anything.”

You hum and turn to face him, watching his head fall to the side to look at you. 

He’s got the kind of face that could make a baby cry. Not because he’s scary or unattractive but because he’s mean. With constantly downturned eyebrows and a frown so deep you can see the wrinkles already starting to form, he’s perfected the unimpressed face. The one that always has you second-guessing your intentions at least for a second. 

“Do you know the rules or do I have to explain them?”

“I’m sure I can guess what the rules are.” 

“Good, you want to go first or—“

“You go.”

You can’t help but grin as he motions towards you, offering his palm into the space between. For once it’s bare, along with the rest of his arm. Usually, he always shows up in his suit and nothing else but after last week's incident of almost indecent exposure, you figured you’d offer him something more comfortable from Peter’s closet.

“Okay, two truths, one lie, two truths, one lie…” 

He watches you closely as you slip further into the couch, your brows knitting together as you try to come up with a plausible set of facts, knowing it shouldn’t be that hard. Like you, he knows very little. Sure, he has the slightest advantage of constantly making himself present inside your apartment but like him, you haven’t revealed any big secrets —no defining factors of your personality that could give him the upper hand.

So far, the playing field seems pretty even.

“Okay, my favourite meal of the day is breakfast. Blue Moon by Billie Holiday is my favourite song. I work as a geneticist, specifically in R&D.” 

You raise a finger with each fact you list, noticing the way Miguel’s brow rises ever so slightly with each passing one. By the end, he looks almost surprised by your choices, as if somehow he pegged you as someone completely different. 

“A geneticist. That’s tough work.” 

“It is.” 

“Can I ask a follow up question or is that against house rules?”

You ponder for a minute, taking slight enjoyment over the way his expression slowly becomes more annoyed as time passes. “I’ll give you one.”

“Do you like your job?”

It’s an off-putting question considering the end goal of the game. Its abruptness throwing you off as you stare, confused, taking in the way his overall posture sort of relaxes under your gaze. Like his question, its change is immediate. His body slipping into the couch as he pulls his arms across his chest, mirroring your position. 

He looks weirdly calm —tranquil in a way that has you feeling a bit happy that he isn’t on edge like he usually is. 

“Sometimes.” 

“Why not all the time?” 

You open your mouth to respond but quickly close it. You said one question, not two and you stand by that. 

For some reason it makes him smile once he realizes this. His mouth falling open to reveal those fangs you’ve slowly grown used to —the ones that nearly made your heart jump out of your chest at first glance all those weeks ago. It was his second night staying over that you’d noticed them. You were grabbing all the usual items to aid Miguel’s injuries when he let them slip between his teeth in the form of a yawn, prompting you to nearly drop the scotch in your hand. 

It was embarrassing for the both of you but you never spoke about it, instead choosing to sweep it under the rug in favour of another argument about why he was there in the first place.

“Your turn.”

“Hm.”

He takes his time curating his answers, focusing on the space in front of him with such intense eyes you almost wonder if he’s doing it to annoy you. 

Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him. As time’s gone on, you’ve learned that Miguel is quite the pusher. The kind of guy who can get a rise out of anyone with very little effort. All he has to do is say a few choice words and inevitably an altercation will arise out of nowhere.

You’re certain it’s a Spider-Man thing because as wonderfully caring as your brother is, most of the time he’s always had the same ability. As kids, he could crawl underneath your skin with just one look and to this day, despite winning your fair share of fights, Peter still lands supreme in overall standings. 

“I’m Spider-Man.” 

You want to punch him in the gut but refrain, noticing the smirk that creeps across his face. 

“My name is Miguel.”

“Oh, my god…”

“And I’d like a scotch, please.” 

This time you really do reach out to punch him, feeling his fist wrap around your own before you can even think to retract. Against your skin, it’s warm —hot even and slick with the kind of sweat that has you pulling away in embarrassment. 

In response, Miguel merely snorts and recrosses his arms over his chest, looking as smug as ever as you stand up, opting to fulfil his wishes. 

“You’re lucky I also want scotch.” 

“Wait, but what if that’s the lie?” 

His tone is dripping in the kind of sarcasm you’re unwilling to entertain as you perform your usual route. Grumpily, you grab two stacked glasses and the neck of the bottle, rolling your eyes when you plop back down, motioning for him to do it himself. 

“I feel like house rules should apply to the owner as well,” he mumbles, reaching over to grab the bottle. Popping it open, he hums to himself as he pours each of you a glass, ignoring the way your jaw tightens at the prospect of yet another night without information. 

“You know it’s kind of unfair that you keep showing up unannounced and refuse to tell me literally anything about you.” 

In unison you grab your drinks and settle, staring at each other with offensive expressions that you can feel escalating —building in tension.

“I told you I can’t,” he says, sighing and sipping and ultimately trying his best not to disturb the one night of peace you’ve managed to have so far. 

“Why not?”

“Because it’s classified.” 

You groan. 

It’s the same answer he gives every time. That’s classified, this is classified, sorry all of my personal details are classified! Every time you hear him say it you want to rip your own ears off and eat them. To scream at the top of your lungs because it’s so unfair that you’re this nice to him. This giving —and for what?

Aside from Peter, if he were anyone else you’d tell them to pack it up and take their baggage elsewhere, barely batting an eye as they left. Closing up the window, you’d smack your palms together as if you took out the trash and go to bed, never to think about their presence again.

You’re not sure why Miguel is different. Why you continue to let him in night after fucking night, regardless of the hour. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a part of your brother’s overall safety or because you think Peter will get mad at you if you don’t. 

Regardless, it still doesn’t make sense considering the nature of your relationship. The lack of ability to communicate genuinely. Every conversation you have with one another is snarky and laced with daggers aimed to kill. There’s nothing of value to redeem. Nothing to make whatever this is worth it as you stare at each other angrily, trying to defy the constant wall that sets you both apart. 

“God, you are so—“

“What?”

You drop your glass onto the table and move your hands into the air, extending your fingers out as you shake them in frustration, groaning. 

He’s so fucking confusing, you decide then. Conceited and awful and stupid. Ungrateful too, remembering the fact that he’s never actually thanked you for letting him stay over —for being there whenever he arrives, willing to plaster up the pieces of his broken body. 

Without question you’re always at the window, peeling it open with tired hands that later pour him drinks and feed him pills and fucking wash his wounds, and not a single time has he ever thanked you.

“Selfish.” 

You see the impact of your words on his face. As he looks over, his eyes go from immediate belligerence to apologetic, his brows lowering in confusion. Awkwardly, his frame sort of slips, causing him to cave in on himself as he slowly looks away, making you realize he might actually be sorry this time. 

“I know I’m not a part of your secret society,” you tell him, waiting for something —anything, knowing deep down it’ll never come. “But this is my house. My home.” 

“Okay, and?”

His tone doesn’t match the expression on his face. Devoid of anything sympathetic, he sounds like a dog being backed into a corner, canines fully out to defend; his face transitioning into that same old scowl that makes you feel insane for even attempting this time and time again. 

“I don’t know you, Miguel! You’re a stranger and you’re in my house all the time!” 

“You’re the one who lets me in!”

“Okay, and?”

Repeating his words back to him feels like a bit of a low blow but it’s all you got. You’ve already had this same conversation countless times. All that’s needed to be said has been, and if he can’t understand that you’re not sure you can keep doing this. 

Sure, he may be Peter’s superior but he’s certainly not yours. He doesn’t dictate what you can and can’t do and he certainly doesn’t have the right to assume he’s allowed entrance into your home without at least a little exchange of trust. 

“Listen, I get the whole keeping the universes separate bullshit —believe me, I hear about it from Peter at least a zillion times a week. But I don’t know you —I don’t know who you are or what your deal is and it’s getting kind of weird.”

His jaw shifts, loosening ever so slightly at the calmness of your words. 

Oftentimes, during these moments, you find the volume of your voice surpassing the level you want. With him, whenever an argument erupts, it’s like something completely foreign takes over and all attempts to quell the anger inside are shot dead in their tracks. 

“All I want is something —anything. I’m not talking trade secrets. I’m talking like, uh…” You pause, trying to rack your brain for something easy and boring. Something he’d be willing to give up. “What do you do for a living when you’re not Spider-Man?”

“What do I do for a living?” 

He sounds almost offended, as if you’ve just asked the stupidest question on the planet but you refuse to falter, staring at him with interest in your eyes. 

“Out of all the questions in the universe, that’s the one you want to go with?”

“Is there a problem with it?” 

“Uh, yeah, it’s boring.”

“Okay, then answer it.”

“No.” 

Oh, for fuck's sake.

“You know, talking to you is like talking to fucking wall!” 

Suddenly you’re standing up and reaching for your glass, taking a moment to throw the contents back in one swift dip. As it goes down it burns your throat, making you cringe and smack your mouth around before grabbing the bottle and pouring yourself another glass. 

“I mean, am I crazy?”

“I’m going to assume that’s a rhetorical question.” 

Ignoring him, you down another glass and begin to pace, your mind racing to piece together everything that’s happened between you. Right now the details are fuzzy —whizzing past your head in rapid succession but they’re there. Taunting you from every angle. Reminding you that, yeah, you’re definitely crazy for letting this stranger into your house. For giving him so much when he returns so little. For assuming that offering up even an inkling of kindness would gain you anything but absolute bullshit in return.

“Am I crazy for wanting to know why you’re always here? Why, even when you’ve barely been touched by another one of your stupid anomalies, you always show up in the middle of the night?”

He’s silently staring, looking up through his lashes at your outburst. Somehow throughout it all his face remains completely neutral, barely a muscle out of place as you continue your rant, yelling about him and how he doesn’t care about you —how he’s just using you for something you don’t even understand. 

By the end of it, you’re nearly in tears, gripping the glass in your hand so tight you’re certain it’s about to break. Everything is tense and hot and despite the calmness that washes over your face once you’re done, inside you’re messy. A mixture of emotions you can’t quite place as you watch Miguel stand up, take the glass out of your hand, and slowly lean in. 

“In every universe you are infuriating. Every single one. In my experience, there’s not a single one out there that you reside in that isn’t filled with a rage I haven’t understood. You think I want to keep secrets from you? You think I don’t want to tell you everything each time I step through that window?” 

He’s so close you can feel his breath against your face.

“I know you don’t think I know you, but I do. Trust me.” 

“How?” 

Something in him changes then. A switch of some kind flipping mid-thought, causing him to back away and look towards the window in your bedroom. “I know your favourite meal of the day is breakfast because it reminds you of mornings with Ben,” he says, still looking, avoiding your gaze entirely as your brows perk up. “I know that your favourite song is Blue Moon because it’s on that album that May used to play when she’d do all the housework.” 

There’s no way he knows that based on you in other universes. Taking into account the few spider people you've met, it's obvious everyone is slightly different. Not all of them look and act the same so Peter must’ve told him about you —about your childhood and how the two of you were practically raised on bacon, eggs and Billie Holiday. It’s the only plausible excuse for how confident he is in all of this. 

In how when he finally looks at you with sympathy in his eyes.

“I know you’re a geneticist but your focus isn’t R&D —it’s biotech. I know this cause—“

He stops before he can even begin to explain, leaving you wanting. Yearning. Your mind and heart working in panicked tandem to get him to talk as he rapidly blinks and looks around. 

It’s obvious then that he’s said too much. For a little too long he ran his mouth and now he’s about to suffer the consequences in the form of anxious movements that have him sidestepping around you and moving towards the exit. 

Out of habit, you tell him to stop —to wait for just a second but like Miguel, he doesn’t listen. Doesn’t stop in hesitation as you stand frozen in the middle of the living room, watching his suit form directly over the clothes you let him borrow as he opens the window and leaves.

-

How do you move on from this? 

It’s a question you ask yourself as you lie on the floor, eyes shut tight. Your breath is heavy. Underneath the weight of the information that’s suddenly been thrust upon you, it’s hard to form steadied breaths. Your chest shaking; twitching as you count your breaths and try to come up with a solution. 

You could talk to Peter. Maybe get him to convince Miguel to come back. You know it’s probably the most unlikely outcome but you’re awfully stubborn and Peter’s always been the type to at least hear you out before he inevitably says no. If you could just form enough of a case to get him to help, maybe then he’d take enough pity on you.

Ugh, probably not. Peter’s nice but not that nice, especially when it comes to all his Spider-Man stuff. Aside from the aftermath of fights, he likes to keep all that separate —says it’s easier to keep you safe. The less you know the better and all that bullshit. 

Groaning, you press your palms against your eyes to try and get your brain to focus. To come up with something good and convincing. Something that’ll really tug on his heartstrings or—

You hear the lock of the front door click. Sitting up, you drop your hands to the floor and twist, watching as it opens to reveal a very tired, civilian-looking Peter with the messiest hair you’ve probably ever seen.

“Hey.”

“Hi."

As he steps further into the room, he yawns and throws his stuff onto the floor near the entrance, narrowing his eyes as you quickly shuffle into a standing position. 

“Why were you on the floor?”

“Just stretching.” 

“On hardwood?” 

He looks at you like you’re crazy as he passes by, making a beeline for the kitchen. Once there, he opens the cupboard and grabs a couple of protein bars, opening one almost immediately. 

“It’s good for your back.”

Raising his brow, he takes a suspicious bite, watching the way you fiddle with your hands. You’ve never been a good liar. At least, not with him. Over the years you’ve learned to lie for Peter —to always have an excuse ready for when he’s late or unable to show up at all— but never to feed him false information. It’s too hard with that stupid spider sense of his.

“How was work?” 

You’re not sure if he’s changing the subject to fish for further info or to actually progress the conversation, so you merely shrug, offering him a dull fine as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“Just fine?”

“Mhm.”

Usually fine is enough to get him to stop. As time’s gone on he’s learned to understand the limits of your responses —how fine usually means fuck off rather than yes now please ask me more. Right now though, it’s obvious he knows something’s up. That beneath it all you’re hiding something in plain sight. He can see it in the way you struggle to answer his question. How you press your lips together and awkwardly look away, trying to come up with some sort of placeholder response. 

“Any reason why?”

For a moment you think about coming clean right then and there. You think about telling him about Miguel’s most recent visit and how it went from zero to one hundred all the way back to zero in the span of minutes. It’s not like he’d be that mad, right? Besides, Miguel’s the one in charge, so all that information about knowing you and how you’re infuriating was told to you by him —not Peter. Therefore, no dirt on his hands, right?

But then you think of Peter and how he’s a firm believer in boundaries. How, since day one, he made it clear to you that he never wanted you getting involved in this life. That it was too dangerous for someone so fragile.

At first, you were pissed, mostly because you hated the idea of your little brother being stronger than you, but slowly you began to understand that he was a part of this whole other world you’d never be able to experience. A world too brutal for your stupid unmodified body to handle. 

The same world Miguel is in. The same world other universe you is maybe in too. A thought that makes you wonder if maybe this is all pointless, because regardless of who you try to convince —Peter or Miguel— ultimately one of them will deny you the right. 

The statistics are there, stacked against you, so instead of continuing like you want you just sigh, accepting defeat. (For now.) 

“Exhausting. Harry was on another rampage.”

“About what?”

“Time constraints. Apparently Norman’s on our ass about wanting this project finished so he can present it to some new board.” 

“For funding?”

You nod, watching him finish the rest of his bar and move on to the next. “I guess there’s this new company that wants in? I don’t know. Norman refuses to tell us but Harry says they’re some sort of start up.” 

“Interesting.” 

You pray to god that the details you’re giving him are enough to deter him. To keep him here in this conversation so that he doesn’t decide to explore any further. 

“Did Harry give you a name at all?”

You shake your head.

“Hm.”

The gears in his head are turning then. He’s got that far-off look in his eye he always gets when something piques his interest a little too hard. The one that makes the lids of his eyes sort of slip to the halfway point while his jaw falls slack. Whenever it happens you have to hold in a laugh because he always looks so ridiculous, like he’s about to fall asleep, even though it’s obvious he’s just focusing a little too hard for his brain to remember how to properly present his face. 

“You good?”

“Yup.” He takes another bite, finishing off the second bar before throwing the wrappers in the trash under the sink. “Just tired.” 

Immediately you take this as an opportunity to shift the conversation further onto him. To distract yourself from the creeping thought that’s telling you to keep trying. “Rough day?”

He nods and instinctively both of you move towards the couch, sitting on your usual sides.

“Two robberies and a car chase.”

“Yikes.”

“And in the middle of the chase Jonah kept calling me asking me to get pictures of Spider-Man so afterwards I had to stage some.”

“Were they any good?”

He scrunches up his face which tells you they weren’t.

“Well, at least it’s over?” you offer, flashing him a fake grin that falls once you hear that familiar beeping in his backpack. 

Immediately, it shifts your mind back to Miguel. To how his breath felt against your skin with each accidental confession. You remember how awful it made you feel, standing so close to him, the rage inside his chest reaching out to touch your own. 

Thinking back, it suddenly dawns on you how quiet it all was. How the words tumbling from his lips somehow barely registered through the anxious ringing of your ears. And how regardless of the small, yet empty space between you made you feel like you were being enveloped entirely. You can still imagine every movement of his lips. The curling motions formed over statements you’ll never get the answers to. 

Watching Peter jump from the couch to his bag you’re reminded of this. Taunted by it as he pulls out that stupid watch and Miguel’s masked face suddenly appears, telling him there’s another anomaly in some world you’ve never heard of. 

It makes your skin itch, hearing his voice again. The way it strains through the hologram, prompting Peter to spring into action, ripping both his hoodie and shirt over his head to reveal that familiar spider emblem that now makes you sick to your stomach. 

“I’m, uh —I gotta—“ 

As he hooks a thumb over his shoulder you merely nod, watching the way he sort of perks up at your acceptance. 

“Get home safe,” you tell him then, watching the frantic movements of his hands pulling off the rest of his outer shell until he’s reaching into the front pocket of his backpack to grab his mask.

After he puts it on you lose all focus, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to move on from this. How every day moving forward you’re going to have to sit on the sidelines, watching him live while you’re forced to forget.

It’s not fair, is it?

You can feel the sting of tears beginning to form as you stare at Peter messing with the watch on his wrist. Quicker than you can think to suppress them, they begin to pool at every corner, threatening to break free as your front door suddenly becomes obscured by a warm-toned, octagonal portal. 

“I’ll call you as soon as I get home,” he tells you. 

Pressing your lips together, all you can do is nod, forcing yourself to remain as calm as possible as he waves goodbye and steps through, leaving you there to stare at the now empty space that continues to glow; the portal’s reflection dancing across the room. 

Delicately, it flickers in and out as its existence begins to dwindle, reminding you that once again you’re alone, feeling the same effects of another spider person abandoning you in favour of something bigger than yourself. 

It feels weird to admit you’re jealous. That the envy that creeps through your veins feels familiar yet foreign as you wipe your eyes and cough out the sob that’s been sitting in your throat. 

Embarrassingly, you have to force yourself not to let it overtake you as you stand from the couch and move towards the portal, suddenly feeling the urge to jump in after him.

He’d surely kill you if you did. He and Miguel and probably any other spider person present. These portals aren’t meant for you. Everyone involved has made that very clear that you’re not meant to know about this life and the way it works. 

And yet, as you inch closer the temptation grows. Filling you with a thousand what if’s as you reach out to graze the light dancing before you.

It tingles against your fingertips like static, bouncing off each cell of skin at such high speeds you have to force your hand back in shock, laughing.

“What the…”

You push your hand out again, noticing the portal begin to decrease in size, its slow-moving layers starting to cave in on themselves the longer you stand there staring. Waiting. Debating whether or not to take the plunge into the unknown. 

Not going in should be the obvious choice. Inter-dimensional travel is something you always anticipated to be a myth, so there’s no telling the actual science behind it now that it’s so obviously not. If you step in you could easily die —come out the other side a complete scramble of decomposed elements. You could lose your memories or simple motor functions or the entirety of your soul. Anything’s possible. 

In fact, the only thing you’re certain of is the argument that will inevitably ensue if you manage to make it. It’ll be a big one —an unforgivable one filled with consequences you aren’t sure you’ll be able to handle. Peter will probably give you the silent treatment for a while, if not indefinitely, and Miguel will most likely yell at you until you’re deaf.

Still standing there, watching the portal become smaller and smaller you debate the worth of it all. The potential outcomes and how maybe, for once, it might be best to fight for something you want rather than run away like you usually do. 

It’d certainly make for an interesting experience if you come out of this alive, right?

-

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I'm Not Afraid | Chapter 20

Word Count: 3.1K

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack, as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

A/N: so, I was planning on updating three stories this week but my body decide otherwise and put me out of commission for the past three days. I had a fever of 102.4 that lasted all of tuesday, accompanied with a wide array of other symptoms. Then wednesday and today, I had a mind breaking migraine. I was able to finish this chapter and I hope I can finish the others too 🤍

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They were late.

No. They were later than late.

By the time Isaac and (Y/N) rolled up to the school, the game had already started and was going in full swing. Cheers and screams were heard from the parking lot, and they hoped nothing had gone down just yet.

“Get to the locker room and get the rest of your stuff,” (Y/N) said as they hopped off her motorcycle. “I’ll go down to the field and see what’s going on.”

“Be careful, (Y/N),” Isaac worried. “We don’t know what we’re facing yet.”

“I’ll be fine. Just go,” she affirmed. “I’ll see you out there.”

She waited until he had disappeared into the school before tucking a gun in the back of her waistband and her knives inside the holsters on her ankles. One thing was certain: if anyone, whether it be the Kanima or her family, tried something that night, she was going to fight back and defend the people she cared about.

In the field, there was a shared nervousness between all those who knew the truth of the world that was hidden in plain sight. But no one felt the pressure more than Scott. Not only was he forced to sit out of the game, putting everyone on the field in danger, but he also had to protect his mother and his friends from Gerard and Jackson.

“Let’s put a real clock on this game, Scott,” the boy’s ears twitched towards the man’s voice. “I’ll give you until the last thirty seconds. When the scoreboard clock begins counting down from 30, if you haven’t given me Derek, then Jackson is gonna kill someone.”

Dread settled in the pit of the boy’s stomach. The man listed off potential victims, putting in the pool his mother and Stiles’ father. Even Lydia’s and the coach’s names were mentioned. What he had not expected was the last person he said. He knew the man was cruel, but he never thought Gerard would stoop so low. “Or maybe I’ll send him off on (Y/N),” he said. “Maybe Derek will hand himself over if I do that. You know how much he likes the Argent girls.”

Scott’s head snapped behind him, his gaze colliding with a frantic (Y/N). She was speaking into her phone, at a tone so low even he couldn’t hear, but he could tell she was worried. He just hoped it had nothing to do with what was going to go down that night.

“It’s up to you, Scott,” the man instructed. “But you are going to help me take Derek down. Because if you don’t… I’ll have Jackson rip someone’s head off right in the middle of the field and drench everyone you love and care about in blood. And I’d really hate for that person to be my own granddaughter.”

Even without the Kanima, there was a slaughter on the field. With Stiles' little to no experience actually playing the game, the team had no chance of winning, much less of benching enough players to get Scott in there. It was wrong move after wrong move, and there was nothing he could do—at least, not just yet.

As the coach forced him to sit back down when he tried to join the team, he felt a presence next to him. Someone he wasn’t quite expecting.

“You came to help.” 

Surprise was splattered across his face as the other boy smirked at him. “I came to win,” Isaac said before his eyes fell on Gerard’s threatening gaze. “Do you have a plan yet?”

“No,” he sighed, “right now it’s pretty much just keep Jackson from killing anyone.”

“Well, that might be easier if you’re actually in the game,” the blond stated. “We have to make it so coach had no choice but to play you.”

“How do we do that? He’s got a bench full of guys he can use before he ever puts me on the field.” All it took was one look before both boys knew what had to be done and how. “Can you do it without putting anyone in the hospital?”

Isaac took a deep breath, knowing he could not lie. He said, “I can try,” before sliding on his helmet and joining the team on the field, and setting off to work.

Whoever saw him on the field would think Isaac was playing for the opposite team. With jabs, swipes, and kicks, the boy got his teammates out one by one. He knew they’d be hurt, their bodies and their egos, but there was a greater good to be fought for. A couple of bumps and bruises would heal a lot better than a dead body.

The plan was working and working well. One by one, his teammates were driven on and off the field. It was going too perfectly. Until Jackson rammed himself into Isaac, sending him to the ground and dislocating his arm while inconspicuously nicking him with venom. Either way, Isaac was out of the game, and Scott was in. He was out his only supernatural advantage, but he would protect everyone like he had an entire army behind him.

(Y/N) couldn’t stay in her seat as she saw Isaac being taken away. She sped down the bleachers to follow the medics but stopped dead in her tracks. She wasn’t the only one that was heading back to the school. Gerard and two hunters followed the men back to the boys’ locker room, their sights set on the werewolf.

The girl knew where her grandfather’s head was at. He was going to torture information out of the boy and kill him afterward. He had no need to let Isaac live once he got what he wanted. He saw no need to let anyone live.

The medics had left Isaac by himself in the recovery room after putting his shoulder into place. But it wasn’t enough to completely trigger his healing and not fast enough for him to protect himself from three men and a sword.

“It was a good effort, Isaac,” Gerard called as he motioned to his hunter to hand him his sword. “This would be so much more poetic if it were halftime.”

Gerard and the hunters made their way toward Isaac, the older man dragging the tip of the blade on the ground. It was intimidating, sure. But not when the boy knew he had backup. As the older Argent raised his weapon toward him, Isaac smirked, making him stop dead in his tracks.

In the reflection of the mirror behind the blond boy, (Y/N) stood, knife in hand and a smirk on her face. Before the younger hunters could do anything, she hit one on the back of the neck with the handle of her knife, knocking him out cold before turning to the other.

The second man put up more of a fight since he knew what was coming. He was strong and agile; she would give him that, just like she gave him the first punch he threw to her jaw. But he had no idea who he was fighting. (Y/N) had been trained her entire life for that type of situation, even if she didn’t know it.

(Y/N) went low, using his height to her advantage. She drove a punch into his abdomen, making him hunch over in pain. As he bent down, she grabbed the back of his neck before slamming her knee one time on his nose, making a bloody mess of his face, and another on his temple, right between the bridge of his nose and his eyes. The man tumbled to the ground as though he weighed nothing more than a doll, succumbing to the blow she had managed to land.

“You know this looks very predatory,” she said between pants. “Three grown men cornering a teenage boy in a dark room, not a great look. Especially the principal of the school! What will the parents say?”

“(Y/N),” Gerard announced. “Can’t say it’s a surprise to see you here. I should have known you’d betray the family. At the end of the day, you do have your father’s blood running through you.”

“But this is not about that, is it?” she questioned, slowly making her way toward him. “This is about you using innocent kids to get to Derek Hale because you can’t do it on your own.”

“None of this concerns you anymore, (Y/N),” he said. “Maybe you should take a page out of your cousin’s book and accept your fate. You’re a hunter. You always will be. These people… these things, they are not your blood. They will turn on you the second they need to protect themselves.”

“Weird,” she chuckled dryly. “The only people who have done that is my own family.”

“That’s because you have no sense of loyalty, granddaughter. But I can’t blame you. Not when your father turned out the way he did,” he sighed. “Although, he seems to have learned his place now.”

“Enough chitchat already, old man,” the girl exhaled. “Why don’t you show me a real fight? Something those two clearly didn’t have in them.”

“Come on, (Y/N). You wouldn’t hurt your dear old grandpa, now, would you?” Gerard smirked deviously. “I don’t think that’s a line even you would cross. Not when I have the information you have been dying to know.”

“What could you possibly know that I don’t already?”

“I know all about the mystery woman your parents always talk about,” he smirked. “I also know why you’ve always felt so… different. Especially this past year. Everything is just so… heightened.”

(Y/N) wanted to accept his offer. Something in her told her that his information was reliable, that he knew everything her parents were hiding and more. But as much as she wanted the truth, there were bigger things in play.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you a piece for free,” he said. “Ever wondered why you don’t look quite like us? Like your mother? Ask your father about Raina, and maybe you’ll find out. Or let me go, and I will tell you all you want to know. And something tells me you’d prefer the latter.”

“Wanna test your theory out?” she threatened as she pulled her gun from her waistband and pointed it at her grandfather. “Because you may have the years of experience, but I have my health.”

The words made the man stumble in his stance, the phrase sending shivers down his spine. There was no way she could know what he thought she was implying. Her choice of vocabulary had to come from a catalog of random remarks she could use to hurt him. Because she couldn’t know, no one could.

“I think it’s best if you just go while you still can, Gerard,” Scott called out as he came into the locker room. “I’ve seen her fight, and it’s better if you just go.”

The man didn’t think twice as he took steps back, his gaze set on his granddaughter. “This isn’t over yet,” he said. “But the game almost is.”

As Gerard ran from the locker room, (Y/N) took a stumbling Isaac into her arms. “Okay, I have to trigger your healing, okay?” she told him. “Just, please, don’t fight back.”

She sank her knife into his arm, flinching as he let out a painful scream. Blood ran down the knife and onto her hand, but she knew it was the fastest way he could recover. “Hold on for just a bit more,” she said. “Gotta make your body work hard.”

“It’s fine,” he winced. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“What did Gerard mean about the game, Scott?” (Y/N) asked as she turned her head to face the boy. “He said the game is almost over. Why?”

“Jackson’s gonna kill someone if I don’t give up Derek,” he said. “Gerard gave me until the last thirty seconds of the match.”

“Then take these two out back and get to the field,” she instructed. “I’ll clean up here, and Isaac will be with you as soon as possible.”

Scott set off quickly to work, pulling one of the men onto his shoulders while dragging the other out. But he stopped as (Y/N) called out, “Be careful, Scott. Night’s not over yet.” And he was gone.

“Alright, Isaac, I’m gonna pull this knife out now,” she said as she turned back to the blond boy. “It will sting, but it’ll hopefully be enough for your body to metabolize the rest of the venom in your body.”

Just as she had said, the girl slid the blade from her friend’s arm, holding her hand over the wound as it healed. She could feel his blood pool under her hand, warm and sticky, and all kinds of uncomfortable. His body was slowly healing, but it was still healing.

Slowly, she removed her hand from Isaac’s arm, letting out a breath of relief as the cut disappeared before her very eyes. Only then, when she was sure he was recovering, did she set off to get towels and a mop to clean off the trail of blood the hunter had left behind. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to warrant concern if anyone else saw it.

“Somehow, I keep forgetting you were raised to be a fighter,” Isaac muttered as he helped (Y/N) wipe away the last of the water on the floor. “Really saved my ass back there.”

“I told you I could protect myself,” she smirked. “Maybe now you’ll stop worrying about me.”

“I’ll always worry,” he said. “I can’t help it.”

“Well, at least you’ll know I can hold my weight in a fight,” she chuckled, bumping her shoulder against his. “I’m okay, Isaac. I’m gonna have a pretty bruise on my jaw, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Suddenly, the sound of a whistle echoed through the room, signaling the end of the game. Terror washed over the pair as screams followed soon after. Fear infiltrated the locker room, sending waves of dread through the teens. Something had happened out on the field, and Scott hadn’t been able to stop it.

“Go,” (Y/N) instructed. “I’ll finish up here.”

“What if Gerard comes back?”

“He brought a sword to a gunfight,” she smirked. “I think I know which of the two is most lethal.”

(Y/N) finished cleaning up the floor, making sure there was no evidence that a fight had ensued there. Her jaw ached and her limbs throbbed but there was an exciting rush that flowed through her. She knew she was good. She had bested her parents in sparring matches since she was only fifteen, but being able to prove herself in front of her grandfather made her feel proud of the progress she had made. She was strong, and that was something no one could take from her.

But Gerard’s words hung at the back of her mind, taunting her. Mocking her. Raina, he had said. It was a name she had never heard before, much less from her father’s mouth. But he’d known exactly what question it would answer, and what information she craved for. If it hadn’t been for the situation at hand, (Y/N) knew she would have gone as far as torturing even the smallest detail from the old man.

Still, as much as her brain yelled at her for answers, she knew she had to focus on that night. Whatever Gerard had planned would change everything between the hunters and the wolves, and they had to do everything they could to stop him.

Once she was satisfied with her work, (Y/N) ran out of the locker room and into the commotion of the lacrosse field. The lights of an ambulance van and police cars flickered in the field, painting the groups of concerned people in red and blue. She quickly spotted Isaac and Scott close to the ambulance, and she ran to them for an update on the situation.

“What do you mean Jackson’s dead?” she questioned. “And Stiles is just gone? None of this makes sense.”

“I know,” Scott sighed. “When the lights turned back on, Jackson was on the ground, and he’d stabbed himself in the stomach. My mom checked him, and he had no pulse.”

“But Gerard needs him,” she muttered. “There has to be something we’re missing here.”

“If there is,” he said, “I have no idea what it is.”

“What about Stiles?”

“He disappeared,” Isaac answered. “He won us the game and was gone by the time the lights turned on. We’re gonna look for him after we change out of our uniforms.”

“What can I do? How can I help you find him?”

“Hang around the locker rooms until everyone else is gone,” Scott said. “We’ll get his scent, and you and Isaac can look for him.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she agreed. “This is gonna be a long night, isn’t it?”

“You can bet on that.”

(Y/N) waited in the dark hall as boys left the locker room, doing her best to keep out of sights. From where she hid, she could hear the Sherrif’s heartbreaking plead to Scott and Isaac to let him know if anything came up about his son. She had not felt as useless as she did at that moment. She could fight, she could defend, but she could do nothing to find someone who had seemingly vanished. 

When the man walked out of the room, she fought the urge to tell him she’d make sure his son came home. On the one hand, she didn’t have a lead on him yet. And on the other, she wasn’t even supposed to be there.

“Coast is clear, (Y/N),” Isaac called out. “Get in here.”

Inside the room, Scott and Isaac both held something of Stiles—a shoe and a shirt. “You know I could have just picked the lock,” she said as she noted the twisted locker door on the ground. “Save the school a couple of bucks.”

“I’m gonna need your resumé for future occasions,” Scott chuckled. “There are too many things you can do.”

“You have no idea,” Isaac smirked before his gaze turned back to the shoe in his hand. “But how come you get his shirt, and I get a shoe?”

Before he could answer, a sudden presence made the hairs at the back of (Y/N)’s neck stand up. And the wolves had noticed. Their attention was no longer held by the items that could help them find Stiles. Instead, their sights were set on the man standing before them. The very man who had been avoiding (Y/N) like the plague.

“Derek,” she breathed. “What are you doing here?”

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