#and THEN got chewed out when i didn’t go to class the following day because i’d exhausted myself and my knee was killing me

[fingertipsmp3]

At least I can cling to the fact that no matter how bad things get, it’s not October 2021 anymore

[dira333]

The Gremlin or how to get over yourself - Suna x Reader (Angst to fluff)

A/N: I moved my writing schedule to write only on weekends. Things will take a lot more time but my health will be better off. Please enjoy this Suna Fic, it's my first time writing for him.

Words: 7,1k - tagging @emmyrosee because she loves Suna

It’s seven p.m. on a Thursday night when Suna’s phone rings, Keeping up with the Kardashians is playing on low volume as he swallows the rest of his Chuupet, a necessary entree prepping his stomach lining for the slightly burnt Rice he’s having for Dinner.

Samu’s curt in his greeting, kitchen noise in the background as usual.

“The Gremlin’s having a week off.” He says. “I’m not supposed to ask, but do you still own that pull-out couch?”

The Gremlin. He hasn’t heard that name in months.

Suna’s the one who came up with it, a silly joke that slipped out at an unfortunate time.

-

“That’s our sister,” Tsumu comments on the high-pitched wailing coming from the kitchen. “Just ignore her.”

“She’s not that bad.” Samu tries. “Just don’t look at her too long.”

The wailing stops abruptly, followed by the tell-tale sound of someone snuffling loudly.

“Samu? Tsumu? Are you home?”

Red-rimmed eyes peer into the hallway, silver braces glinting in the dim light. Your hair’s a mess that might have been pigtails sometime before. 

“You look like a gremlin.” Suna points out. He half expects you to cry again. Instead, you kick him in the balls.

-

“Uh, sure.” He manages to pull himself out of the memory, the pain still fresh in his mind even if it’s been years. “She could just ask herself, she’s got my number.”

“Ah,” Osamu chuckles half-heartedly. “I didn’t like her last boyfriend. She’s still mad about that.”

“Boyfriend?” He hears himself ask, mind going a little frayed trying to picture you with a boyfriend. 

“Yeah, I don’t know if you know him, but he was Nekoma’s Captain when we went to Nationals? Black hair that made him look like a Rooster?”

A chill runs down his back. “You let your sister date Kuroo Tetsuro?”

“Hey now, it’s not like I got anything to say in that matter. You know how she is.”

“Yeah, I do-” He mumbles, mind already drifting back.

-

“Why would I do that?” Gremlin asks, nose pointed to the sky. The braces look almost cute on you when you smile like that, a little arrogant and so very pleased with yourself. The new set of pimples across your nose ruins the look a little bit, but there are more important things to think about.

“Come on.” Tsumu whines. “It would be so funny! You just have to ask him out on a date.”

“Nah.” You blow a bubble with your chewing gum, clearly feeling very important. It’s rare that your brothers ask you for help and you like to lord your power over them. 

“If you do it, I’ll ask Kita-san to let you train with us for one day.”

Your eyes light up at the prospect, even as both Samu and Tsumu groan in annoyance. The girl's Volleyball Club isn’t to be messed with, but you’re as competitive as your brothers. There’s a long-standing battle of who’s best and you’ve gotten better since you got into High School, yearning to show off.

He can’t quite understand why, but he respects it. You’re one of the youngest in your Class, born on the last possible day to make it into one school year below your brothers. Maybe it’s because you’re born prematurely. Tsumu calls it your obsessive need to be part of absolutely everything, Suna thinks you’re obsessed with proving yourself. 

“Fine.” You huff. “So I ask the Basketball Captain on a date and then I just stand him up?”

“Yeah!” Tsumu nods eagerly, Samu a little preoccupied with his Bento. “I’ll even toss to you during training if he accepts.”

Midorima-san does not accept your confession. But Suna gets to be there, phone ready, when you kick him in the balls. Midorima-san screams like a little girl.

-

“Anyways.” Samu pulls him out of his reverie again. “I’ll text Kita to let her know you’ll pick her up from the train station.”

“Hold up.” Suna puts his phone between his ear and shoulder, trying his darned best to save both his dinner and his last remaining brain cells. “Why do I have to pick her up and why can’t you just tell her yourself?”

“Dude, keep up. Mom would kill you if she knew the Gremlin had to take an Uber in a foreign city when you’re perfectly capable of picking her up. Who raised you?”

“True.” He huffs, wrinkles his nose at the perfectly burned rice on his plate. Oh well, Take-out it is. “And Kita?”

“I told you she’s still mad about that Kuroo thing. She could never say no to Kita.”

“True,” he repeats, an acid taste on his tongue. He used to hate that, how Mr. Perfect could make even you swoon, the Gremlin, the monster every boy at school secretly feared. 

“So, what did you do? That made her so mad?”

“Ask Tsumu about it, I have to work.” The call disconnects with a dissatisfying click and Suna grunts, orders Pizza, and calls Tsumu. He’s invested now.

-

Five days later he’s as well informed as he can be.

You’re arriving at exactly 5:24 p.m. and you broke up with Kuroo over both his workaholic tendencies and a job offer too good to decline.

Samu and Tsumu decided to throw a party at the news which didn’t go over well with you, even though you did decide to get drunk with them - Tsumu woke up with half his eyebrows shaved off and Samu still misses a box of his favorite cookies that he swears you took.

You like Tamagoyaki for breakfast and you’re here to decide between three different offers for three different teams, all Division 1 of Japan’s V.League. You’re a Libero now and a pretty good one too.

-

“Why are you crying?” He asks, offering you a Chuupet. You like the pineapple flavor best and that works out okay because it’s his least favorite flavor. 

“Doesn’t matter.” You wipe your nose on your sleeve and stare down the roof. He can hear Tsumu somewhere below them, yelling some curse words into the wind. He’s probably fighting with Samu right now.

“Did you get asked out by someone ugly?” He asks, taking a seat opposite to you. “Do I have to beat someone up?” 

“Kita-san is leaving after this year.” You point out. It’s a fact and you don’t sound too upset about it, yet it feels like you’ve dropped red-hot coals into his stomach, the acid bubbling from the heat.

“Uhuh.” 

You pull your knees up and he averts his eyes, lest someone accuses him of looking up your skirt. It’s not his fault you never seem to remember that you’re not wearing shorts.

“Kita-san told me that Tsumu’s going to be Captain next year.” You mumble into your arms. “And he asked me what my plans are.”

“What did you say?”

“What do you think?” Your voice is sharp now, the usual sting of your words a welcome sensation. This is the you he knows well, unbothered if your truth makes others uncomfortable.

He leans back as far as he can, lets his eyes rest on your shoulder, the smooth curve of your neck. You’ve grown a few inches since you came here and it suits you well. 

“You want to be better than Tsumu.”

You snort, hit his thigh with your fist. The touch lingers even when you take your hand back.

“Kita-san said I can never be better than Tsumu.”

Suna’s never moved this fast before. His head almost knocks into yours.

“He didn’t!” His voice is almost shrill, his chest tight with a weird sensation. You seem calm, brows arched.

“He’s right, isn’t he?” You tell him, too calm. You’re the most dangerous when you’re calm. “I’ll never be an Original. Tsumu will keep playing, Samu won’t. If I keep playing, I’ll be just like Tsumu. If I decide to do something else, no matter what, I’ll be just like Samu. It just sucks so much!”

“Be a Libero then.” It’s a slip of his tongue, nothing more. But your eyes are big and bright and he wants to forget the way you looked before, desperate and desolate, so he keeps talking.

“You’re tall for a Libero. You’re average for a Setter. You’ll always be at the back of the Court and always wear a different shirt. Tsumu’s receiving sucks anyway. You’ll never be Captain, so you’ll never have to argue with him who’s been better at that. You can keep playing Volleyball and do your own twist of it.” He shrugs. “Just… Just an idea. I mean, you can do what you want. It’ll always be original. You’re the Gremlin after all.”

He forgets how to breathe when you pull him into a sudden hug. You’ve never been one for cuddling, never been into touch that doesn’t lend itself to violence.

But it’s nice, how you fit right in his arms, like you’d grown just for that purpose.

-

“Suna!” It seems that he might have been able to forget quite some things, but not your voice.

“I’m here!” He lazily raises his arm, counting on his height. There are too many people on the platform right now, the bustle making it hard to spot you.

But then you step out from behind a gaggle of businessmen and his mouth runs dry.

It should be illegal to wear shorts this… well, short. Your legs are way too long to be real. You could probably break a watermelon between your thighs. Why is it suddenly so hot?

“Hey Stranger!” You greet him with a grin. Where you used to have braces is now a perfectly white set of teeth in a perfectly formed mouth. Oh, wait, no, there’s the dimple and the slight curve to the right. He feels a little faint and curses the fact he’s not had dinner yet.

“Hey.” Should he move to hug you? Offer his hand? Slap you on the back?

You take that decision from him, knock your left knee into his right like you used to do back in High School. “What’s up with you? Did you forget how to talk?”

“No, I’m fine. Just tired. How was the train ride?”

“Long. Boring. Are you hungry? Can we go eat before we drop off my stuff or do you have a ‘No girl stuff in my car’-rule like Tsumu?”

“Tsumu’s still single then?” He asks, directing you toward the exit. “Both’s fine with me. We can order take-out. What are you in the mood for?”

“You eat take-out? How shameful.” You wrinkle your nose at him in mock disgust. Would it be weird if he leaned in and bit into it, dug his teeth into your skin? Probably.

“You gonna rat me out to Samu?”

“Probably.”

“I’m letting you stay in my apartment.”

“I said probably. My Silence is expensive.”

“Hey, Suna!” A familiar voice yells over the crowd. He turns, surprised to see Komori.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nohr got a craving for that one Pork Belly Dish, so I drove over to get it for her. Is that your friend you mentioned? Hey, I’m Komori Motoya.” 

There’s that familiar tightness again, building up in his chest as he watches you chat with Komori. It’s Highschool all over again, how you swooned over Kita, had private discussions with Aran or the fact that you regularly went over to Ginjima’s place for some kind of secret meetings. 

It’s not that he dislikes you having friends. Or that he hates the fact that his friends like you too. But he’s him and that’s Komori, the nicest guy that ever decided to play Volleyball. Well, at least Komori’s not single.

“Oh, hi Suna.”

“What are you doing here?” 

Washio furrows his brows at his less than friendly tone.

“Wow, I know I messed up a little today, but are you really still mad about my Block?”

Your eyes are on him too now and he swallows the bile down yet again.

“Sorry, I’m being a dick.”

“When are you not?” You ask, a teasing lilt to your voice. It still stings, but less so when you knock your knee against his again. “You’re both on his team then?”

“Oh, yeah, Mr. Miserable is our Middle Blocker. I’m the other Middle Blocker and Komori is our Libero.”

“Oh, a fellow Libero.” You grin easily. “I’m here to check out a few teams in the area. We could get together some day, maybe? When the Grump’s not so obviously hangry?”

Washio laughs. “Sure. Sunday works well for me. What do you think Komori?”

“I’ll talk to Nohr and let you know, but I think I’d be fine with Sunday.”

“Don’t I get asked too?” Suna grumbles and you elbow him. “Pork Belly?” You ask him instead, nodding at the take-out containers both Washio and Komori carry.

“Sure.” He agrees, because at least that will get him out of this conversation.

-

It’s almost time to go home and he’s still in possession of his second button.

Suna refuses to give it up and both Samu and Tsumu seem to think it’s hilarious.

“Hey.” In an uncharacteristic show of emotion, you weedle yourself under Tsumu’s left arm, press yourself into him as you peer up at Suna. “What are you guys doing after School?”

“Mom’s making Hot Pot!” Samu decares from your other side, finishing off the rest of the Yakisoba bread you had brought in as a present. You got all of them graduation presents. A book for Ginjima, new shoes for Tsumu - though you declared that you wanted his old ones - a mixed bag of Chuupets for Suna. All of the pineapple flavors have been taken out and while he should find it annoying, it’s a little too endearing to him.

“You’re invited, by the way.” Samu points out. “But Mom said it’s okay if you can’t come. Your parents probably planned something for you too.”

“Not sure.” He mumbles, fiddling with his second button. 

“Oh, we’re going soon, right?” Samu flings the wrapping paper of his bread into the waste basket at the door and pulls at Tsumu’s arm. “Come on, you still need to confess to that girl from the Crafts Club.”

“What?” Tsumu looks at him like he just declared he’d start playing Basketball from now on. “Yeah, come on.” Samu tugs again. “We’ll get back to you later.”

 And just like that, it’s the two of you, the air around you growing dense with unsaid things. 

“You still have your second button?” You ask, pointing at it.

“Yeah.” With one last tug, the string gives away and he holds it in his hands. The button’s not even that big, he thinks as he rolls it between sweaty fingers. Just a tiny thing made from plastic that holds so much meaning.

“Were you planning to give it to someone?” Your voice sounds weird. He can hear his pulse in his ears, way too loud and way too fast. He’s going back to Aichi in a few weeks, doesn’t know much about his future but the fact that he’s got into College there, will have to get into their College Volleyball team if he wants to make it Pro. And even then, nothing’s sure. Not if he’ll make it Pro, not if his team will win the important matches. He could be doomed to be average for the rest of his life, living from the memories he made right here, in those last three years.

When he looks up, you look different than before. 

You’ve got the Miya Gene of Stubbornness, and are the worst of all three when it comes to not letting go of your dreams. You’ve managed to turn around and beat everyone’s expectations in the last year alone, making it from an average setter to an extraordinary Libero. You almost won the Nationals last year and there’s word of it being a sure win the next time around.

It’s not a conscious decision, but it feels right. To open his mouth and say “No. I’m not giving it to anybody.” To fling that damned button out the window. 

Still. He’ll probably never forget the way your mouth curved at the sight, like you were trying to hold something inside that was trying to burst out of you. 

He misses your graduation because of a stubborn cold. He watches most of your matches until he gets so busy with training and College and just, life, that he falls off, little by little. 

Soon enough you’re nothing but a memory and he’s probably less in your head.

After all, you’re dating Kuroo Tetsuro and making a name for yourself, aren’t you?

-

His heart is a traitorous thing, it seems, but at least it calms down over Pork Belly. You’re eating on the Couch you’re going to sleep on later, your legs familiarly thrown over his. Keeping Up with the Kardashians plays on TV, but it’s basically background noise now as you talk, laugh, and wave your chopsticks around.

It’s like old times, hanging out at your house after school. Any second now, Samu’s going to come in from the kitchen with his second helping. He can almost hear Tsumu’s nagging voice in the background, telling you “Shut up! I didn’t sound like that.”

“Hey, Gremlin.” Your head snaps around at the nickname and his mouth runs dry.

“What?”

“‘s nothing.” You mumble into your dish. “Just not used to getting called that way again.”

“Oh.” He’s suddenly not hungry anymore but stuffs his mouth nonetheless to think of a comment.

“You want me to stop? It was a stupid nickname, really.”

“Nah.” You shake your head and dig your heels into his thighs. “It’s okay. I am a Gremlin.”

“You totally are. Like, you didn’t even bring me a present. Didn’t your Mum teach you about housewarming gifts?”

“I totally brought you a gift!” You jump up and pull something from your suitcase. He recognizes it by sound alone, the crinkling plastic wrap a tell-tale sign.

“You bought me Chuupets?” He laughs, his heart tightening when he realizes that you pulled all the pineapple flavors out. 

“Samu said you’re still eating them.” You point out, handing them over in a way that tells you this is just as awkward for you as it is for him.

“Course. What do you think of me? I don’t change like that.”

“Could’ve fooled me!”

“Okay.” He claps his hands on his thighs and sits up, grabs his phone from his pocket, and connects it with his TV. “History lesson. I’ll catch you up on what happened in the years since I graduated.”

“Oh wow, are you going to let me write a test on that too?”

“Only if you keep asking stupid questions.”

-

His alarm goes off way too early for the late night he’s had. 

You just kept swapping stories, drunk on nostalgia. 

The girlfriend he had in College, the most awkward affair of his life to date. “She was obsessed with my hair.” He spilled what he hadn’t even told Samu, “Cut off a few strands of it and kept it in her purse for personal reasons.”

How you got to play for the Tokyo Tigers and your awful first date ever with a guy who thought he could get free Onigiri through you. 

“Kicked him in the balls for that.” You said, grinning smugly. He couldn’t help the “That’s my girl,” that slipped out of his mouth. But you smiled like you agreed.

“Morning Gremlin.” He calls out as he moves toward the bathroom. Your head pops up, dried spit sticking to the side of your face, hair sticking out in odd angles.

“Bathroom’s mine.” You declare with something like a war cry. He’s got a headstart, but you still beat him there, your body trained by years of living with the twins. 

“What the f-” You kick him in the shins and slam the door in his face when he goes down. Long-forgotten memories of sleepovers resurface. What does it say about him that he’s still grinning when you step back out?

“I’m so sorry.” You tell him, your hair less messy, your face void of spit. He focuses on your eyes because your sleep shirt is a little too revealing for this early hour.

“Nah, it’s good. I like being heckled right after getting out of bed.”

You snort. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Hey, I’ve gotten way better! I bet I’m better at cooking than you.”

“I’ll let you try.” The Challenge lights a familiar fire in your eyes. He’s going to have to come up with excuses to eat out if he doesn’t want to turn into a sore loser.

-

“Morning loverboy,” Komori greets him at training.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Suna’s probably never been this diligent with his stretches before, but it’s a welcome distraction now.

“Nohr said she could do Sunday, by the way.” Komori’s not letting the topic go, however, and Suna can’t even blame his stubbornness. He’s grown up with Sakusa, after all. 

“Great.” If negative excitement is a thing, he’s projecting it right now.

Training goes smoothly, however, which he’s thankful for. 

It’s hard enough to deal with Komori’s excitement - he’s been trying to set up Suna since before he met Nohr, his enthusiasm only intensified by his own personal happiness - and Washio’s weird sense of humor on any day, but he doesn’t dare imagine what it would be like if he sucked. They’d probably tell him that he’s lovesick or something equally stupid.

“So, your girlfriend-” Washio starts when they gather for a quick break.

Suna barely avoids choking on the sip of water he’d just taken, can’t even be happy about narrowly avoiding death when a smug smile appears on Komori’s face.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” He points out hastily. “Remember the Miya-Twins? She’s their little sister.”

“Ouch.” Komori pulls a face. “That must have been a rough childhood.”

“So you’re not with her because they’d kill you if you’d try?” Washio asks and Suna’s glad his mouth is empty this time. 

“No, I’m not with her because I’m not with her. We’re just friends. She’s the Gremlin, okay?”

“The Gremlin?” Washio’s brows furrow in the same way they do when he thinks about Bokuto. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Suna points at his shin, the darkening spot on his skin.

“She kicked me in the shins today because she wanted to use the bathroom first.”

“She’s a guest. Of course she should get to use the bathroom first.” Washio points out. Suna grunts in annoyance and turns to Komori.

“Don’t ask me for help there, I always let Nohr take the bathroom in the morning.”

“Yeah, because you’re whipped.”

“And you’re not?” Washio’s eyebrows are now doing the “Coach is saying something but I sense he means something else”-Dance.

“Weren’t you listening? She’s the Gremlin. There’s nothing there between us!”

“Good.” Washio puts his watter bottle down with a nod. There’s something there, maybe in the sound of plastic hitting the floor, or maybe it’s in his voice, but the knot in Suna’s stomach pulls taught to the point he’s afraid he might vomit any second. “That means I can ask her out.”

-

Suna’s good at what he does, because he’s not only observant but has a Poker Face to match it. He’s a strategist, plays the long game, all of those things.

So the fact that he did not see that coming from a mile away should scare him way more than the prospect of you dating Washio. 

Oh god, what if you date Washio and it works out? And you move here? And he has to see you every time they do teambuilding stuff like movie nights or Karaoke sessions? 

His mind races with a speed formerly unknown. His face is completely blank, at least he’s still got that going for him, but his mind is tormenting him with a terrible picture of you and Washio at the altar.

“I mean, you can ask her out, but I can’t tell you if you’ll have a shot with her or not. Remember Kuroo? They broke up recently.”

Washio nods slowly. He doesn’t know that “recently” is a very vague description. He’s not so sure about the timeframe himself, but it sounded like a few months have passed since that incident. Not that Washio has to know that.

“Can you give me her number?”

“Only if I want to get neutered in my sleep. But I’ll tell her you asked for it and offer her yours.”

Washio nods even slower and Komori’s face looks like he’s doing his best to hold back diarrhea. 

“Well, do that, and if she’s not into it, I can still ask her properly on Sunday. She’s staying till Wednesday, right?”

“Right.”

“All right Boys, get back into position.” Coach yells from behind them. Suna’s never been more glad to get back to training.

-

Suna spends Friday and Saturday evening sightseeing with you, which is in itself an exaggeration. He’s never been one for sightseeing like the typical tourist.

“Okay, stop. And don’t smile, this background is serious.”

You roll your eyes, but don’t look around - you’ve learned from your previous mistakes. When he flips his phone around, you can see yourself leaning against the railing of a footbridge, behind you the central landfill.

“The Gremlin in its natural habitat.” He teases. You punch his shoulder as hard as you can.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Oh, come on,” He slings his arm around your shoulder. “You get to take one of me next. How about the mural with the poop emoji? Will that suffice?”

You lean your head back to look up at him and your face is so close now that your breath washes over his face. Your lips open and close as you speak, but there’s an odd noise in his ears. 

Pain erupts from his cheeks as you pinch and twist them.

“Ouch, what the f-”

“You were zoning out completely. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Oh, good call.” Suna turns away to regain his composure. “Take-out or do you want to actually sit and dine.”

“Or we could cook?”

He pulls a face. “Do we have to?”

You laugh. “I could teach you a few things. Mom wouldn’t let me leave for college without knowing how to feed myself. And Samu asks me to help him every chance he gets. Cheap labor, you know.”

“So you’re saying that your cooking is better than Takoyaki from a street vendor?” He points at the sign he’d noticed a few seconds ago. Your confidence falters. So it is still your favorite food…

“What if, and hear me out, we get Takoyaki, enjoy your weird little poop emoji mural, and drop into a Konbini on the way back. By the time we’re home, you’re going to be hungry again anyway.”

“I’m not Samu, I don’t eat that much.”

“No? Well, I do. And I’m your guest, so what I say goes.”

Suna laughs along, ignores the tingling that erupts whenever you knock your shoulder into his as you walk. It’s nice, to be like this with you. Relaxed, at ease, no dangerous thoughts rolling around in his brain.

-

It’s only when you’re pushing the shopping cart down the aisle that things change.

Your phone rings and you pull it out, frown at the display.

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this. Can you pick up some more rice and vegetables? I only need five minutes.”

“Sure.” Suna keeps his face neutral as ever, but he’s seen the caller ID. It’s Kuroo.

“Hey Tetsurou, what’s up?” He can hear your voice as you walk away from him. You sound too friendly for a chat with your ex-boyfriend. He desperately wants to hear more, but he’s not a creep, so he pushes the shopping cart away from you, down another aisle. 

By the time his mind clears a little, he’s far far away from the produce aisle and staring at an assortment of Shochu. He picks up two bottles at random and drops them in the cart before making his way back to where he was supposed to be going.

-

Suna’s not sure what wakes him. 

He knows it’s a Sunday because his body, conditioned by years of training, tells him to stay in bed. His head feels a little fuzzy, telling him he drank too much last night, but it’s Sunday, so that doesn’t really matter anyway.

His blanket must have slid off during the night, so he pats around, eyes closed. What he finds instead is a face and his eyes snap open to dawny morning light and your annoyed grumbling.

His heart, usually a rather chill fellow, thrums in his throat. He’s frozen in place, his hand still somewhat cradling your cheek. His mind unhelpfully supplies him with the information that your cheeks are warm and soft, fit perfectly into the palm of his hand.

He tries his best to block out this information in favor of checking if he’s still wearing clothes.

He couldn’t… he wouldn’t… You blink and he goes completely still.

“Suna?” You ask. “Are you okay? Your face looks weird.”

“I…” He manages before his voice gives out. 

This is both his biggest nightmare and his sweetest dream. If only he could convince himself that it’s not real, he could slip back into his dreams and consider it private. 

Something on his face must have tipped you off. This is worrying, because since when can others read his face?

You pull his hand from your face and slip out from under the covers. You’re wearing boxer shorts and a tank top, reasonably dressed for what he feared might have happened.

“You have not changed at all.” You say, your voice way too calm to be harmless. He’s not sure what he’s done, but he’s going to regret it.

“What do you mean?”

You stop at the door and level him with a look he’s only ever seen directed at people you never want to come across, ever again. This isn’t going well for him.

“You’re the king of mixed signals, Suna. And I’m sick of it. Make up your mind.”

“Where are you going?” He follows you, a little less balanced than you.

“Out.” You pull clothes over your sleepwear, drag your hair into something resembling a messy bun. “I need some fresh air.”

“Look, whatever happened-”

“I know.” Your voice is as hard as steel now. “Nothing happened. Nothing ever happens.” 

The door clicks shut behind you with a sound of finality.

-

You're still not back when Suna drags himself out of bed hours later.

His head hurts and his mouth is dry in a way that even three glasses of water cannot seem to fix. He calls you over the first cup of coffee, but you don’t pick up. 

Five unanswered calls and plenty of messages later he’s ready to call the police. Sure, you’re one to hold a grudge, but accidents happen.

The thought of you hurt on the side of the road, will not leave his mind. His hands shake as he moves through his contacts, his first instinct as always to call Kita. 

He doesn’t get that far, however. 

“Why are you calling?” He asks, his voice doing some weird thing he’s not exactly proud of.

“Your friend.” Washio’s voice is serious in a way he hasn’t heard before. “She’s with me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” There’s the sound of a door closing. Suna can’t help but picture it. You’re probably on Washio’s Couch right now, the massive green beast he helped carry up the stairs a year ago. He’s probably made you a decent Lunch or a cup of coffee that does not burn away your stomach lining. You’ve probably told him everything already. Whatever. It’s not like he can fall any deeper in Washio’s eyes.

“Suna?” That’s Komori’s voice. It sounds like he’s on speaker phone now.

“Yeah?”

“I’d rather do this in person, but you’re both stubborn as hell. Everyone can tell that you like her.”

“I don’t-”

“Lying about has got you into this mess, you could be honest for once.” Komori’s voice stays the same, friendly and light as ever, even as his words pack a punch.

“It doesn’t matter.” Suna presses out. “I’m not good enough.”

He didn’t mean to say those last few words. It seems as if the truth is like a Chuupet, slippery in his hold - but a lot less sweet.

“I think she’d disagree.” Washio grumbles along with his deep voice. “Apparently you’re totally her type. Snarky assholes who don’t know when to stop teasing and stuff like that. Trust me, she’s not stopped talking about it since we picked her up.”

“How- How did that work out anyway?”

“Sakusa’s on Atsumu’s team, remember?” Komori explains. “I think she just needed someone to vent who’s not her brothers. Someone who knows the current you. Nohr is currently with her and they’re talking to someone called Kita on the phone.”

Suna flinches. It would have been less painful for him if you’d called the twins.

“I’m not sure if you know.” Komori starts again after a few seconds of silence. “But she doesn’t have an offer here. I’m not… I’m not telling you more about that, but I think you guys should talk. And be honest for once. You’re both grown ups, for goodness sake.”

“Sure.” He huffs. “Like she’s going to listen to me now.”

“Get over here.” Washio declares. “I’ll send her down as soon as you’re here. It’s on you to get her to listen, though.”

-

“Never have I ever served a ball into someone’s head.” Suna declares confidently. 

“It was on purpose.” You point out as you down your Shochu. 

“Tsumu?” He asks. You grin smugly. 

“A Lady doesn’t tell.”

“You’ve never been a Lady.”

“I totally am!”

“You totally are not! You’re the Gremlin.”

“Well, at least I’m one of a kind.”

“That you are.” The words weren’t meant to come out this soft. But your eyes seem to mirror his sound, now pools of warm liquid that seem to pull him in.

…

“Never have I ever had a crush on someone in my school.” You drink right after you say it, but he’s too far gone to complain about you breaking the rules as he downs his own shot.

“Who?” You ask, giggling. You’re swaying in your seat, barely able to hold yourself up. 

“You should get to bed.”

“Not without knowing who you’ve had a crush on.”

“You should get to bed first.” He gets up, utterly convinced that the Shochu won’t have any effect on him until he can barely keep upright without the Couch cushions stabilizing him. He pulls you up all the same, dragging you across the room. “Come on.”

“I sleep on the Couch.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Who did you have a crush on?”

“Who did you have a crush on?” He asks back. “Kita, right?”

“Everyone had a crush on Kita.” You brush it off. “Whataboutyou?”

He pushes you onto the bed, giggles when you bounce off the mattress. It looks so soft and he lets himself fall too, lands a bit too close to you to be comfortable, his head knocking against your shoulder as he tries to wriggle away. He can’t look at you properly in this position.

“The teacher.” He declares with all sincerity he can muster while going cross eyed looking at you. You’re so close now, he can count your lashes. One, two, three…

-

Your eyes narrow the moment you spot him.

You turn back towards the still open door but Suna’s faster, grabs your arm to pull you back.

With everyone else, he’d feel bad about this, but you’ve kicked his ass enough times. You respond in kind, gift him a few more bruises on his shin and pull him down into a headlock. He’s not fighting it. At least you’re not pushing him away, right?

“What are you doing here?” You ask. Your knuckles are no longer rubbing over his head, but rather brushing through his hair. Are you aware of that?

“I want to talk.”

You huff, let go of him. He grabs your hand before you can step away, drags you down the sidewalk by your hand. Your fingers intertwine as you fall into step with him.

“I’ve had a crush on you.” Suna points out when the park comes into view. “I don’t know when it happened, but I had a crush on you. In high school.”

“I know.” You point out, your grip on his hand neither tightening nor loosening. “Everyone knew.”

“Excuse me? I have the best poker face in the prefecture.”

“Oh please, you suck.”

“You suck!”

“Suna!”

“Rintarou.”

You stop, suddenly breathless as you gaze at him.

“What?” You ask, your voice raspy.

“You should call me Rintarou.”

“No.” You glare at him. “No, we’re not doing this. You can’t push me away and pull me in right after just to push me away again.”

“I know.” He looks down, surprised to see that you’ve still not pulled your hands apart.

“Tell me one thing.” He purses his lips, tries his best to make his words sound less pathetic than they are. “You could have had Kita. Or Ginjima. Even Midorima-san was kinda impressed with you. Washio has the hots for you too. Why would you even care about little old me?”

Softness washes over your face. You’ve never looked this good.

“I’m the Gremlin.” You tell him. You obviously are, in your layered slept-in clothes and your messy bun, your tendency to kick his ass even when he’s not asking for it. “You like me for what I am. I like you for what you are.”

And there’s a truth to that he hadn’t considered before.

You’ve been at his side for long enough, know how he acts after a loss or a win. You know he can’t cook for shit, have seen him block, have heard him snore.

A strange lightness takes hold of him. He feels like giggling.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

You nod. 

He leans in, heart beating in his throat again, but for different reasons this time. 

His lips brush yours, the softest of touches he’s never thought possible. 

When you respond it feels like coming home.

-

They’re almost too heavy for the swings, you’re on his lap on the tiny set.

“So, Kuroo?” He asks when everything else has been talked about, over and over and over again.

Your head’s a comforting weight on his shoulder. He could get used to this, being so close he only needs to lean down a little to kiss you.

“We’re still friends if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s not what I’m asking, but good to know.”

“Since when are you jealous?” You furrow your brows at him. He looks away.

“Rin.”

“Yes, love?”

“Since when are you jealous?”

“Since you fancied Kita, I guess.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you said you loved me, so jokes on you.”

You straighten up and glare at him.

“I told Kuroo that I wanted to try, one last time, to get with you. He was the one who got me interviews in this prefecture. So if you have a problem with him helping me-”

“I don’t have a problem with that, I just-”

“You think he’s better than you and wants me back eventually?”

“It sounds awful when you say it like that.”

You laugh. “You’ll have to work on that. It’s cute now, but your jealousy won’t be cute forever.”

You kiss the comeback from his lips. His stomach grumbles loudly.

“Lets get back to the others.” You pull him up from the swings. “It’s time for dinner anyway.”

“Do we have to? We could just go home and have fun instead.”

“Suna Rintarou. Your friends just helped you get over yourself and you want to repay them like that?”

“You’re only here until Wednesday and you want to spend time with my friends instead of with just me? Shame on you.”

“We can call in sick tomorrow? How does that sound?”

“Oh, you are a dangerous influence.”

-

Rintarou hollers loudly as the ball connects with your outstretched arms and soars through the air. Nohr claps exitedly next to him.

“That was a good one.” He calls out. “The Fans are going to love this.”

“How many followers do you have now?”

“About 500.000 and counting. Tsumu is still salty about it.”

“How many does he-” Nohr interrupts herself when Komori drops on the chair next to her and passes her a cup of soda. “Thanks, Baby.”

“Get a room.” Rintarou teases, already zooming in on you as you prepare for another receive. 

“I bet they’re going to win. Who dares to go against me?”

“I will. We have a strong Offense on the other side and the Game just started. Loser has to pay Dinner?”

“Deal.”

…

Your expression is thunderous when you exit the changing rooms.

“Hey Gremlin,” Rintarou calls out to you, watches as you part ways with your teammates and march over.

“You played good.” He points out and leans forward, softly bites your nose as a way of greeting.

“Not good enough.” You knock your head against his shoulder. “And it was the last game of the Season. This sucks so much.”

“I know, I know.” He rubs your back, pulls you closer even. “But it wasn’t your fault. Number seven messed up a lot of the blocks. You couldn’t do anything about that.”

“I know.” 

“You wanna go out with the Guys? Or go straight home and pack for tomorrow?”

You’re quiet for a while. He lets you stew on the decision. There’s no formula on how to feel better after a loss, no other way to go over this than to listen to what your body and your mind tell you.

“Can we get drunk?” You ask finally. “At that bar that serves fried chicken? We don’t have to leave that early for Osaka, right?”

“No, we can get drunk. Do you wanna take some stupid selfies and send them to Tsumu?”

“Yeah.” You nod, press a kiss to his chin. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great. Also, we have to pay for Washio’s dinner.”

“No!” You whine. “You need to stop betting on me. Rin!”

He laughs. “You say that now like you’re not going to bet on me during my next game.”

“That’s different.” You point out and take his hand. “I only take bets that I’ll win.”

“Ah, what’s losing one bet or two if I’ve got you?”

“Sap.”

“Gremlin.”

“Yours.” You grin, smug about it.

“Mine.” He agrees.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[cottonlemonade]

The school lunch menu request is such a cute idea! I’ve never requested anything. I assume it’s open so anyone can request?

If that's the case, and since I love your Kita pieces (particularly ‘A Simpler Life’), I’m gonna take menu A with strawberry milk and a dorayaki and sit next to him!

Congrats on the 400 followers. They're well deserved!

Comparing Scores

word count: 1037 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: rival!Kita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, rivals to lovers

warnings: none

request: fluffy, jealous rival Kita

“y/n-san.”

You closed your eyes in annoyance at the calm voice and after a barely audible sigh, looked up from your notes.

“Yes?”

Your class president regarded you with his usual icy stare for a moment before asking, “How did yer test go?”

And there he did it again. As if he didn’t know that he beat you by two points.

“You know very well how it went.”, you grumbled.

“No, that’s why I’m askin’.”

“I got a 98. There, are you happy now?”

Kita blinked twice.

“That’s a great score, well done.”

You scoffed. “And I’m guessing you got 100?”

“101, actually.” When you just stared in disbelief, he added, “There was a bonus question on the back.”

Your shoulders shook with anger. You hadn’t even noticed.

“Good for you.”, you pressed out.

“Thank you.”, he replied, still standing in front of you like he was waiting for something.

You were about to tell him to leave you alone when Aran stepped to your table.

“Hey y/n-san!”, he greeted happily and your face softened immediately, “Heard ya swept the floor with the class on that test. What did ya get?”

You gave a little fake-humble chuckle and shrugged, “Well, you know, not perfect but I got a 98.”

Kita frowned. He had asked you the same question and you had glared at him as if he had demanded you clean the classroom floor with a toothbrush. He watched closely as his best friend kept making simple smalltalk, asking about your plans for the weekend and if you’d wanna join him and his girlfriend for a movie since they had an extra ticket.

Why was it so easy for others to make you smile?

Kita focused on your hands, fluttering through the air as you animatedly discussed further plans and perked up when he heard his name.

“Ya wanna come, too, Kita?”, Aran asked, patting his friend on the shoulder.

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

The two boys turned their attention back to you when you let out an involuntary groan.

“Something the matter, y/n?”, the ace frowned.

“It’s just… actually, you know what, just give the ticket to him. I don’t have time anyway.”

“Come on, it’s just a movie. It’ll take two, maybe three hours outta yer day. What’s the harm?”

“I don’t want to go if he is there.”

Surprisingly, you looked just as shocked at your words as Kita felt. His eyes widened, then he bowed and excused himself, going back to his seat.

All throughout the next period you kept your eyes on Kita’s back. He seemed alright, you thought.

You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. You had fully planned on finding an elegant excuse not to go but something about this boy just rubbed you the wrong way. Probably because he was everything you hoped you could ever be - calm, composed, incredibly smart and capable in anything he touched.

Did your words hurt his feelings? You chewed your bottom lip, not hearing when the teacher called your name for an answer.

As you began to stutter, trying to make sense of what was written on the blackboard, Kita raised his hand and gave a flawless reply, as per usual.

You sunk further down in your chair. He didn’t seem all that bothered after all. Still, you should apologize.

And so, once the bell rang announcing the end of the day and everyone filed out of the classroom, you took a deep breath.

“Kita-san.”

The gray-haired boy paused in the middle of putting his books neatly into his backpack and looked up at you.

You turned, waiting for a moment or two until the remaining stragglers left the room to not have any witnesses.

When the door closed behind the last student you brought your eyes back to Kita who still waited patiently, still halting in the movement of sliding his workbook between two notepads.

“I’m…” Ugh, why did you do this to yourself? He was perfectly fine. Maybe you shouldn’t… “I’m…” Come on, y/n, just one more word. Come on. “Sorry.”, you breathed out.

“Sorry?”, he repeated, tilting his head slightly in question.

“Yes.”, you said, firmer this time, “I’m sorry.” Look at you go, not even stumbling that time.

“For what?”

Oh come on, don’t make me say it! He was just rubbing it in again, wasn’t he!

But when you met his eyes, the question seemed genuine.

“It was rude of me to say that earlier.” You added a little bow for good measure.

“I meant to ask a while ago-”, he began and you straightened, looking at him, “Did I do something to ya? Did I insult ya in some way? Because if I did, that wasn’t my intention.”

“It wasn’t?”, you blurted out and he blinked again, this time in alarm.

“No, of course not.”

“So… when you always ask about my scores and tell me yours, you…”

“I was just makin’ conversation.”, he admitted.

“You… what?”

“I was just tryin’ to find a way to talk to ya.”, he said simply, finally slipping his workbook into his backpack.

“But why?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I dunno.”, you mumbled and felt really silly all of a sudden.

“I like ya.”, he said, again in that very matter of fact tone of his and your jaw dropped.

“Yer smart and funny. People find it easy to talk to ya - not that I would know.” Did he… just make a joke?!

“And I think yer really pretty.”, he added, zipping up his backpack and getting up from his chair. He wasn’t that much taller than you, you noticed. Strange, you would have thought that all the volleyball team was super tall.

“You think I’m pretty?”, you asked, your voice rather quiet and probably a whole octave higher. Subconsciously you tugged at the front of your uniform, that always looked too baggy or too tight on your plump figure.

He nodded. “Of course.”

And then he shouldered his backpack and just walked past you towards the door.

“Wait!”

He halted and turned, hand on the door handle.

“Do you… maybe… wanna go to the movies this weekend? W-with me?”

Kita smiled and nodded again.

a/n: thank you so so much for your kind words! “A Simpler Life” is actually one of my favorite pieces ever because Kita is just 🤌🏻 thank you also for the prompt! I hope you liked it! 🌟

[littledovesnow]

young!coryo x fem!reader fluff

a/n: fluff fluff fluff i love fluff !!!!!! hoep u little snakes like it too <3

-----

Staring at the clock on the wall, you wanted nothing more than to be back in your bed, tea in your hand.

You felt the headache start not long after you woke this morning but thought nothing of it as you gathered your Academy uniform, putting the blame on the new perfume your younger sister was trying.

A soft nudge on your right drew your attention away from the clock, your boyfriend looking over at you curiously.

“Hm?”

“Are you feeling alright? You’re usually one of the few who willingly engages in this dreadful class.”

Coriolanus gestured to the literature class going on around you two, the professor going on about something or another.

Shrugging, you twirled the pen in your hand. “I’m fine, Coryo. Just a little tired.”

Narrowing his eyes, Coriolanus didn’t believe you one bit, but he also knew you well enough to realize that you weren’t going to budge.

“Grandma’am and Tigris went out for the day, you can come rest at my place after classes.” He was privy to your rambunctious home life- two younger siblings and parents who only knew how to fight with one another.

Smiling, you thanked your boyfriend before trying to focus on the rest of the lesson.

-----

Staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror, you were half temped to bribe the Peacekeepers stationed at the back exit of the Citadel and skip the rest of your day. What you thought couldn’t get any worse had surprised you in the worst way possible.

Taking a deep breath, you made sure the slight wave of nausea was out of your system before joining your classmates in the bustling hallways, wanting to avoid a certain blonde’s eye.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You jumped as Clemensia came alongside of you, worry evident on her face.

Sighing, you felt you façade crumble just a bit, confiding in the black-haired girl. “I’m starting to think I’m getting a migraine.”

They were a rarity in your life, you could only count on one hand the number of migraines you could remember, but they gave you hell every time.

Clemensia’s worried frown deepened, unsure of how to help. “Do you want me to get Coriolanus or anything? See if Casca could spare a morphling bottle?”

Shaking your head, you softly groaned at the pain it caused. “No, no don’t get Coryo. He’s got enough on his plate already, he doesn’t need to worry about me, too.”

“You’re kidding if you think he doesn’t worry about you.” Clemensia replied, following you to an emptier hallway, taking your bag while you unscrewed the water bottle.

You gave the girl a look, dropping the now-empty bottle into your bag. “Do not tell Coriolanus. If I still feel like this in a little I’ll tell him.”

Clemensia could see it on your face, you had no intentions of telling your boyfriend, but she didn’t want to interfere, unsure of how Coriolanus would react if he head the news from someone else.

“Whatever you say. Now come on, Casca will probably put us in the Games if we’re late to class again.”

-----

Coriolanus knew you weren’t telling him something when you didn’t respond to Arachne’s dig at your clothing, something you two were known to bicker about.

He scootched his chair over towards you, lacing your hands together. “You sure it’s just tiredness? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not bite back at Arachne, even after our anniversary.”

You felt your cheeks flush at the comment, but you chose to otherwise ignore that part of his comment. “Maybe I have a headache, too.”

Frowning, Coriolanus chewed on his lip. He knew you’ve suffered from migraines and knew that sitting in a classroom wasn’t the best way to get rid of one. “A migraine?” He whispered, not wanting to aggravate the ache anymore.

“A small one. But it’s really nothing, I’ll be fine.” You admitted, still not letting him in on the full truth. “Now shush. I’m not in the mood for Dean Highbottom to unleash whatever punishment he’ll come up with if he catches us talking.”

Coriolanus remained quiet for the rest of class, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the pulse point on your wrist.

As soon as he dismissed the class, Coriolanus was on his feet, grabbing both his and your bags. “Come on, let’s go home.”

You rose after him, grabbing onto Coriolanus’ blazer as the world tilted for a moment. “Hold on.”

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” He asked, setting the bags down to hold your other elbow, keeping you steady.

“Just a little dizzy. Nothing I haven’t experienced before.”

Growing tired of your half-truths, Coriolanus let out an exasperated sigh. “You don’t have to lie to me about how you feel.”

You popped an eye open, seeing worry and anger written over your boyfriend’s face. “Fine, fine. I feel like I was hit by a train, okay? My head’s hurt all day and I nearly threw up after Festus showed us his lunch.”

Coriolanus swore under his breath, helping you to your feet. “You should’ve said something earlier. I’m sure you could’ve left and rested.”

“I’m sure all would have been fine if I suddenly disappeared, Snow. Remember what happened when I left a few months ago for my grandmother’s funeral?”

Coriolanus did indeed remember; he was nearly expelled for the reign of terror he caused after noticing your mysterious disappearance.

“That’s what I thought.” You mumbled, squinting as the bright clouds increased your headache tenfold. “Jesus, when did it get so bright out?”

“I have a few train tokens left, come on. It’ll be faster than walking, and it’s darker in there.” Coriolanus passed the two tokens over to a Peacekeeper, who in turn let you two onto the train heading to the Corso.

-break-

Collapsing on your boyfriend’s bed, you hummed in content when he drew the curtains closed. The walk up to his family’s penthouse nearly took you out, but a promise of hot tea and a nap gave you the strength to make it up.

“At least change before you sleep, don’t crease your uniform.” Coriolanus toed off his shoes, moving your own heels out of the way to avoid a potential tripping hazard.

You groaned, but sat up and shed the maroon blazer and coordinating button-up shirt. “What would I do without you, Coryo?”

Grinning, your boyfriend threw on a pair of more comfortable clothing, helping you into an outfit you kept in a drawer at his place. “Suffer through Arachne’s awful opinions and Festus’ crude remarks alone, I presume.”

You blindly threw a hand out, lightly slapping your boyfriend’s thigh. “Be nice, Coryo.”

 Coriolanus laughed quietly, joining you on the bed. “Life is more fun when being bad, you know that.” He quipped, right hand going to rub soothing circles on your back. “Go to sleep, the faster you get over this migraine, the faster we can practice for our next anniversary.”

You were already nearly asleep, Coriolanus guessed, otherwise you would have had a stronger reaction than a simple snort.

-----

a/n: hey send requests that would be dope but i won't write smut it's not my vibe

[legally-lupin]

Why are you looking at me like that ? Mattheo riddle x Fem!Reader

Slytherin reader

Made this Based off on an edit I made for tik tok ;) (__nxtx__)

You walked to potions. Once again late. Luckily professor snape likes you as you never get detention.

As you entered you noticed Snape wasn’t there and quickly sat down next to Mattheo who smiled softly at you. You quickly got your books out and smiled back at him

“Hey your late again?” He whispered as he took down notes

“Nothing new” you smiled

“Miss l/n you didn’t think I wouldn’t have noticed you come in?” His deep voiced made your eyes widened he the professor cocked a brow

“Sorry professor I was up late doing assignments” you sheepishly smiled as you handed him the assignment

“I’ll accept it” you hear a bunch of Gryffindors mumble

“Silence 10 points from Gryffindor for your childishness” you saw potter glare at you

“What the hell is potters problem?” You spat his last name like it was poison Mattheo clearly amused bumped shoulders with you chuckling.

“He’s just jealous because he got detention for 3 days and you got off with nothing but a smile” Draco said smirking

“Today we are brewing draught of living death. You will be put into pairs. First pair to succeed gets rewarded 50 points. Each” snape read out the pairs

“Y/n your with Mr.Riddle today” you nodded smiling at the boy

“Mattheo I expect you learn from y/n and do not blow up another cauldron and waste my inventory” Y/n snickered as her friend nodded frantically.

You followed the book and used a few tips professor snape taught you a while ago with the potion. Mattheo tried chopping a

beans but one went flying hitting Ron on the head.

“Ow! Who the bloody hell did that” the ginger looked around the room rubbing his head. You grabbed Mattheos arm to steady yourself from laughing too hard. He leaned into you. You took a deep breath to compose yourself from all that laughing.

“You supposed to squish it not chop” you took the knife demonstrating it

“But the book says cho-“

“The book is wrong in some parts. This is a easier technique a wise man taught me this trick” professor snape heard your words when coming over to asses your potion

“You two are doing great 20 points to Slytherin. Keep it up” a small smile came from the professor as he strutted over to tell off the Gryffindors

As you stirred the potion you felt Mattheo staring. You looked up at smiled cheesily

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You laughed as all you got as a response was a big smile

“Can’t I look at a pretty lady?” He cocked his head to the side taking one of your muggle pens and putting it in his mouth smirking

“Don’t chew them. They will explode” you inputted as you continued you stir the potion until you thought it was done a blush slowly settled on your cheeks. he quickly took it out with wide eyes

“Explode? How are you allowed these in here?” You laughed at his response

“Noo not like that the ink will come out that’s all” a wave of relief hit him as he put it back in his mouth

“Y/n?” You hummed in response attention still on the bubbling Potion

“I know this is an odd place to ask this. But you would like to go on a date with me this weekend. To Hogsmeade?” You we’re about to respond when all of a sudden Mattheo was covered in red ink from biting down on the pen nervously.

“Oh Mattheo!” You quickly grabbed a wet cloth and cleaned his face.

“What did I tell you about biting it” the boy just sighed slightly embarrassed and still nervous

“As for your question… yes I will go with you” you cleaned his mouth slowly. Your eyes meeting his he grinned. Teeth all red

“It’s a date” you smiled brightly

“Mr.Riddle what have you done now?!” Professor snape sighed looking at the mess

“Well you two were the first to complete the potion 150 points to Slytherin” the class groaned as you hugged Mattheo getting red ink on your blouse.

[i-spaced-sorry]

Hi

I just wanted to tell you that I love your writing so much!!!!

Also I was wondering if you could please write a Jay Helstead x little sister reader??

Like maybe Jay has had custody of her since she was a baby and now she starts asking questions about their parents. Like why it has only ever been Jay taking care of her and where is her mom? Maybe the reader is like 6, just started kindergarten and maybe this is what stems the question asking (other kids talking about their own parents and asking why the reader only ever talks about Jay)

Thank you for all that you do

this is 100% your choice and feel free to make any changes

Hi! Thanks for requesting! I hope you like it, it kind of went dark! I'm also enjoying playing around with writing time skips, so I hope you enjoy that (if not, sorry)

TW: mention of past abuse, mention of death during childbirth

Title: Why?

“Why” you asked while you sat down to eat your cereal.

Almost dropping the coffee pot, you watched as your brother Jay placed it back on the machine and sighed, “I thought we left this stage when you were 3”

“No, why” you tried again, beginning to whine when your brother didn’t understand your vague question. 

Sitting across from you at the table, Jay placed his coffee down and asked, “why, what? I need more than just a word.”

You chewed your cereal bite and swallowed before you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Why is it just you and me and occasionally Will? What happened to mommy and daddy?”

Jay knew this day was coming. Though he was hoping it wouldn’t happen until you were at least out of elementary school. But he should have known better, 6yr olds are relentless if he remembered his time in school correctly. 

“Uh, just because it was easier this way. Can I ask where this is coming from?”

***

“And where did she say it was coming from?” asked Hailey, while the two of them sat in the surveillance van watching the corner store for their suspect. 

Continuing the look through the binoculars, Jay responded, “some of her friends were talking about how they were excited for some donuts and dads party their class is having in a few weeks.” 

“Okay, follow up question, what did you tell her when she asked?” asked Hailey, putting a pin in the stupid class party that definitely is leaving kids who don’t have dads out. 

Turning to face his partner, he wiped his hand down his face and sighed, “I panicked and told her it was easier this way.”

“Jay. You didn’t answer her question at all.”

“I know, but what was I supposed to say? Hey Y/N, you live with me because mom died during childbirth and dad went off the rails and abused you mentally for the first 3 yrs of your life and it wasn’t until I came home from the War that I realized how bad it had got and now dad is in jail and you have a restraining order against him where if he comes within 50 ft of you, I’m allowed to tackle him and call the police on him? Yea, I’ll pass”

Laughing slightly at her partner's bluntness, Hailey replied, “I’m not saying say all that to your 6yr old sister. But I do think she deserves some explanation”

When she notices her partner opening his mouth to protest, she adds, 

“Age appropriate Jay. Age appropriate.”

**

You were sitting at the kitchen table coloring, while your babysitter for the evening, Stella, was putting together your after school snack. 

“Okay munchkin, here is your snack” she said as she placed your apple slices and peanut butter beside you. Seeing your paper she asked curiously, “what ya coloring there?”

Not looking up you replied, “a picture duh” 

“Okay sassy pants” was all Stella replied before walking away trying to process what you drew. 

When Jay got home, he thanked Stella and walked her to the door. 

“Thanks again, Eva was stuck studying for her final exams and I didn’t want her to be torn away every few minutes to deal with the monkey”

While shrugging on her coat, Stella smiled, “it’s no problem. I like hanging out with Y/N. Though, I don’t know what’s going on with her, but she was drawing some interesting pictures this afternoon”

That caught Jay’s attention, “interesting how?” he probed. 

“Nothing bad, just she was drawing a shadowy figure outside the house, you, Will, and her were inside, but she was crying in her drawing.”

Sighing, Jay replied, “thanks”

And with that Stella left and he shut the door behind her and turned around. 

“Now or never” he muttered. 

Walking over to where you were eating dinner, Jay sat down. 

“Do you want to hear about why it’s just you and me and occasionally Will?”

You looked up from your spaghetti, “Yes!” you just about screamed while nodding your head insistently. 

“Okay, so when you were being born, mommy was not very well. The doctors had to make a decision. And I want you to know the decision that was made is not and will never be your fault.”

You felt tears prick your eyes, “mommy died?” 

Jay felt his own eyes prick, “Yes, but I will tell you as many stories about her. Whenever you want. And I bet you, Will, will too , if you ask him nicely.” 

You stared for a few moments taking everything in. “Okay, so that explains mommy. What about daddy?”

Jay didn’t really know how to appropriately tell you that your dad had abused you, so he went with a toddler age appropriate response and hoped you wouldn’t probe for more. 

“So, when mommy died, I went away right”

“To fight a war!” you inserted!

Nodding, Jay kept going, “yes, to fight a war. So it was just you and dad. But dad was really sad about mom and he did some bad things. Will and I didn’t know what these bad things entailed until I came home and Will came back from school for the summer.”

“Bad things?” you inquired. 

Mentally screaming fuck, Jay calmly replied, “he was hurting and took it out on others and was just not being a good dad. So he had to go away for a long time.”

“But why you? Why not Will or grandma or grandpa?” you probed. 

“Will was still in school and wasn’t in a good spot to care for himself, go to school, and care for you. Grandma and Grandpa both have their own slew of health issues and we thought it would be better if they didn’t have to restart the parenting process. I had come home from the war for good by that time and it was decided I had the most stable housing and money coming in. So that’s how it was decided it would be me, you, and occasionally Will.”

You thought for a few minutes, taking in everything you just learned. When you finally slipped out of your chair, came around the table and hugged your brother exclaiming, “thank you” over and over again.

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 12

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

Warnings: Heavy emotional themes including reference to past suicidal ideations.

A/N: Divider by me again

series masterlist

“Fun night?”

Osha froze in the middle of taking her boots off. She couldn’t even make sense of what was happening—her mind was still on the doormat outside, damning her dreams and wondering where she went wrong. The burning afterimage of Qimir’s back still rested in her retinas, now fading with each second she stared at the light spilling from the doorway to the kitchen.

She approached Mae slowly, her boots still just a little untied.

Mae must have been waiting a while for her. What other reason would she be sitting at the kitchen table at a quarter past five in the morning?

“Long night. Jury’s out on fun.” She hated that her new instincts dictated that she throw up her emotional walls around her twin sister, but Mae looked just as uncomfortable.

Mae chewed her lip and laced her fingers together beneath her chin. “Who were you out with?”

“What’s it matter to you, Mae?” Osha snapped, leaning on the kitchen doorway with her arms crossed.

“It—” Mae stopped herself, the flare of frustration in her face draining just as quickly as it had come. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, you’re right. And you were right, last week; I’m not owed information about your life. Not after what I did.”

“So why are you here, Mae?” Osha asked, weary. Her feet hurt, and she needed to get a head start on her bedtime stretching or she’d be suffering before her shift at the cafe in a few hours.

Mae rubbed at her forehead. “I wanted to give you time before we talked again, and it wasn’t—it wasn’t right of me to just pile my stuff onto you right as you were leaving for class last week. I’m sorry for doing that. I know it made an already bad day worse for you.”

She winced at the memory.

Can you just drop it, Mae? For, like, maybe an actual week? You had two years to tell me all about him.

That day seemed like an eternity ago, even though it had just been seven days. 

Her apology was, at the very least, sincere. Mae was stubborn; she rarely admitted she was wrong, especially where Osha was concerned. “I’ve gotten over it,” Osha said. “Just… if you want to talk to me about the heavy shit, you could ask me before you just unload it on me.”

Mae nodded, contrite. The silence that followed felt fraught with tension.

“Was that all you wanted to say?” Osha prompted.

Her sister shook her head but didn’t continue.

Irritation flared. She was too tired for this shit. “I’m sick of being punished for not asking you the right questions when you could have spared me all this by just being forthright, Mae.” She pushed off the doorframe, intending to go start her stretches.

“It’s not all I wanted to say,” she said hastily. “And you’re—you’re right, I’m just—let me restart. Please, Oshie.”

She gestured to Mae to continue, to convince her to stay.

She took a shaky breath, knuckles going pale as she squeezed her hands together. “A little over a year after I started training with Qimir, we were leaving the climbing gym near the college one night when Indara saw us.”

Osha took the seat across from her at the table. This wasn’t what she was expecting to hear.

“A… year?”

“Almost a year ago, now. More like eleven months.”

“But… Vernestra only talked to me about it a few weeks ago,” Osha said, frowning.

Mae nodded. “It surprised me when you said Vernestra accused you of that. Because of the time thing, and because Indara knew it was me and not you.”

Not many people cared enough to get to know Osha and her sister well enough to readily tell the difference between them. Sol mistook Osha for Mae about as much as he got it right, and he was their dad. Vernestra could tell them apart, always looking down toward Osha’s ankle before addressing her. In those moments, she wished she would have just been called Mae. For Indara to know the difference wasn’t suspicious, but it was surprising. 

“Did Indara tell Vernestra otherwise?”

Mae shook her head. “She told Vernestra it was me that same night, I think. Because Vernestra talked to me like the next morning, and she said she knew it was me, and I was—” Mae exhaled sharply, frustrated.

Mae wasn’t as concise in her words as her sister had to be. It was so easy for others to misconstrue Osha’s words that she had to be careful about how she worded things, lest it come back to bite her. Mae, on the other hand, was a whirwind of chatter who could sweep herself through five different topics in one breath.

“I’m sorry. The more I realize how deep this all got, the more I realize I should have just talked to you. But then things got so complicated…”

Osha ignored the self-pity in favor of more information. “Okay, so Indara told Vernestra it was you, and then what?”

Mae gathered her composure. Osha didn’t blame her for being so mixed up; it was really damn late. “She—Vernestra called me into her office. She asked me what I was doing with him.”

She didn’t question how Vernestra knew it was Qimir—if Indara could tell it was Mae and not Osha, she could tell it was him even after fifteen years. “And you told her?”

“Of course I did, I wasn’t going to—”

Osha felt cruel when she said, “You weren’t going to lie to her?”

But you lied to your sister.

The silent parts of the conversation sat loud between them. Osha’s eyes burned, half from the late hour and half from tears. She didn’t watch Mae’s reaction, but it was so quiet she could practically hear her sister’s heart break. “What’d she say?” Osha asked, voice a little pitchy.

“She… told me who he was.”

Osha’s stomach dropped. Qimir’s voice rang in her ears from what he told her the first day he brought her to his place.

Vernestra mentored me personally and got me ready for competition and tournaments. I was in the ring with her every single day…

Over the four years I trained with her, she managed to convince me that my pain wasn’t real…

They saw the seventeen-year-old killing himself for scraps…

She was responsible for a completely avoidable mistake. It went down as an accident, and she slipped any blame…

I didn’t hear from Vernestra or any of the other trainers at the Temple once.

“What did she tell you?”

Osha watched as Mae realized in real time that she had only been told a critically small amount of the objective truth. She sounded nervous as she answered.

“She told me Qimir Lohar-nee—”

“Lo-harne.”

“Sorry, Loharne—she said he was a disgruntled former gym member who sought to drag the Temple’s name through the mud because he was kicked out for violating gym policy.”

Something in Osha’s eye twitched. “Which policy?”

“I don’t know.”

“And that’s all she told you?”

“That’s—what do you mean?”

“That is so disgustingly far from the truth I can’t even begin to unpack it. Did she tell you he was a seventeen-year-old orphan when he was kicked out of the Temple?” Osha asked, getting heated.

She had to cool her jets. Qimir’s story wasn’t hers to share, as little of it as she knew. Osha knew what it felt like for her business to be made public for anybody to gawk at. She didn’t want to give Mae anything about him that she hadn’t asked him for. 

Mae looked pained, wincing. “He didn’t—I didn’t know that.”

“What else did she say? What happened.”

“She told me she paid some press agency to keep him from slandering the gym and that he’d been under the radar for a long time—he used to try to break in after hours for a few years after he was kicked out. She told me that him training me was a sign he was trying to get back into his smear campaign. That I needed to—”

“What, did she want you to spy on him or something?”

Mae’s stricken expression told her all she needed to know. It recontextualized a lot of things she’d heard over the last few weeks—from him and from her.

Ask your sister who I am. Maybe you’ll take the fuck off option next time I offer it.

I had been given, more, well, more hours, kind of, at the gym…

Mae never asked and wouldn’t have believed me if I told her. If she did tell anyone about me, it’s unlikely they’d find me. I prefer it that way.

She recalled how his eyes had sharpened when she told him she’d been looking for him two weeks ago, when she’d stumbled into the Unknown Planet fight night. Mae had put that paranoia there, somehow.

“Mae…”

Her sister spoke quickly, thoughts coming out rapid-fire across the table. “I mean, it makes sense, right? He’d use one of the inside members to finally get his revenge or whatever. And it worried me when he started paying attention to you, and I don’t know what’s going on, but he still might be trying to use one of us to—”

Their first drinks at Unplan. He’d been so playful when she asked—

Are you trying to get me to train with you?

Can you blame me?

Osha shook off the paranoia Mae was inspiring in her. “Stop it.”

“Until that point, I didn’t know anything about him. He didn’t talk about his past.”

“He is entitled to his privacy.”

She went on like Osha hadn’t spoken. “He was super professional all the time. He was a pretty strict trainer, but he was never mean. And I felt… when Vernestra told me what he’d done to the Temple, I felt like I understood why he didn’t want me to know. It felt like he’d like, lured me into training with him to attack the Temple or something.”

Osha rolled her eyes. “You asked him to train you. Nobody made you pay him for that. Don’t rewrite history because someone else tried to sell you the truth of someone else’s life.”

Mae halted in her tirade, jolting in place. “You’re… you do know more about him, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah. Because I didn’t give him a reason not to trust me, Mae, most people tend to be open and honest when they trust you.”

She took the dig with grace. “Yeah, well. You try telling Vernestra no.”

“That’s not an excuse to spy on him to some random person. He’s a human fucking being, Mae.”

She hung her head. “I know that… but Vernestra had all these pictures of him where he just looked so angry, and she showed me these conversations where he kept trying to get these journalists to lie about the gym, all these attempts where he tried hacking the site and her emails…”

Osha leaned in, the chair creaking behind her. “You thought that pictures of a teenager from more than fifteen years ago were enough of a reason to help Vernestra stalk him? He just wanted to be left alone!”

She felt nauseous. Mae looked equally miserable.

“So what happened? She showed you some bullshit and shared her side of the story. What did you do?”

“He… Vernestra wanted to know anything about him. His whereabouts the last few years, where he worked, who he associated with, his feelings about the gym, about her. I knew he assisted at the college already, that’s how I met him, but he wouldn’t tell me if he worked there or anything. I wasn’t good at it. The asking part. He kinda. It was really weird.”

Osha tried not to snap at her sister to get to the point, but the cold sweat of anxiety was making her shiver.

“A few months before I quit, he—I…”

Her self-control splintered. “Spit it out, Mae.”

“I asked him if he remembered what it was like at the Temple.”

Osha held her breath—no, she couldn’t breathe. This was bad.

“And he… he turned so cold the second I asked. He said yes, I do and… he became such a mean guy, after that. He was so angry. He looked just like he did in those photos Vernestra showed me.”

Osha put her head in her hands.

“He still took my money, and he trained me, but he would, I don’t know, yell at me while I trained with him. I couldn’t ask him the things Vernestra wanted to know. She was fine just knowing he was upset, I think. And it was so weird, he’d show up with all these crazy cuts and bruises and injuries. Like he’d gotten into a fight or something—a real fight, I mean.”

“How long ago did you ask him if he remembered?” Tears welled in Osha’s eyes, and she blinked them away before they could fall. She dreaded Mae’s answer, but she already knew it.

“Like eight months before I quit. So about ten months ago, total.”

Your nine-month reigning champion, here to make it ten…

She was going to be sick.

He’d joined the brawl after Mae had—

Fighters in the cage want to fight so badly that they’ll say, fuck the rules, I want someone to pay for the pain I’m feeling.

That cold fury he fought with, the brutality, the violence—

It haunts you, the awareness that your capacity to inflict violence is so close at hand.

Many of us learn it—in lessons taught by the unkind.

“—and it was difficult, but Vernestra wanted me to keep training with him. She made me a shift supervisor and gave me a raise so I wouldn’t quit. Then she—”

“She promoted you because you were spying on him?” Osha asked, still feeling a little outside her body. “Oh my god. This is—Mae, this is insane. She—”

Vernestra was stalking him. Her sister had taken bribes to facilitate it.

Knowing what she knew about his past with the gym, and the hypervigilance that remained with him years later, she was sure that trauma had unearthed itself from the quiet, content life he’d carved for himself out of rock bottom.

“What else?” Osha said, her voice wavering. She realized she was crying. 

Mae was near tears herself. “I’m sorry, Oshie,” she whispered. “I’m so so sorry. She told me I was helping the Temple.”

“What. Else.”

“I don’t… I don’t know if I should tell you.”

Her despair mixed with a cocktail of rage. “Why not?”

“I don’t know if I’m… allowed.”

“I’m sure we’re past the point of allowed in this conversation.” 

Mae looked pale with stress. “It wasn’t fun training with him anymore. I was tired all the time, and he was so suspicious of me all the time. I think he knew what I was up to—no, I knew, by the end. And then a few months ago—two months ago, I told him I didn’t want to anymore.”

Osha sat with bated breath.

“I stopped us right in the middle of a spar. It was like he disappeared; his eyes went black. I… he was scary, Osha.”

That didn’t sound right. “What did you say to him?”

Mae looked hurt and confused. “I told you, I said I didn’t—”

“Mae, what exact words did you say to him?”

Mae chewed her lip the same way Osha did when she was trying really hard to put the right words together. “I said, ‘This is the last round, Qimir.’”

“You called him by his name?”

Mae didn’t see anything wrong with that, but Osha did.

I never gave that name to Mae.

’Til I was about 20, I went only by Qimir. Then I distanced myself from it as hard as I could, and told everyone my name was Q.

“Yeah, I wanted him to know I was serious. Anyway, he told me he knew what I was up to and that I could tell Vernestra to… well, to go eff herself.” All these terrible actions, and she was still too shy to swear.

“And did you? Tell her?”

“Of course. She accepted that I was done, thankfully. And she…” Misery shone through her eyes like a goddamn lighthouse. “She gave me the junior trainer job to keep me quiet. I didn’t have a choice. She made me sign—Osha, please.”

Osha was pacing the kitchen now. “I can’t fucking believe this. Mae, did you ever stop and think for one second that this man just wanted to be left alone?”

She was a little gobsmacked. “You’re—you’re not mad about the trainer position?”

“Forget about the trainer position, Mae!” Osha leaned on the fridge. “I am so unbelievably—you respected him as your trainer for over a year and threw that all away because Vernestra told you some vague, highly biased story that you instantly believed?”

“I—well, if his reaction to just talking about the Temple was that bad—”

“You asked… you asked him if he remembered what it was like—”

“I didn’t know he’d react like that. I didn’t know!”

“Mae…” Osha felt like she was losing her balance while standing still. All the injuries he must have sustained in the brawls, all the pain he felt—

Fuck the rules, I want someone to pay for the pain I’m feeling—

“Asking him that is like asking me if I remember what it was like in Bestine.”

Mae flinched, face morphing into horror the longer she imagined herself in Osha’s shoes. Osha couldn’t stop, sobbing as she spoke.

“All you technically asked is what it was like, but what I would hear is you asking me if I—” It was hard to get the words out. “—if I remember what the mat smelled like, felt like. If I remember seeing Sol crying. If I remember any of the pain I felt before passing out, and then if I remember any of it after I woke up. If I remember how much everybody hated me for getting hurt. If I remember what an embarrassment I was to all my friends and h-heroes. To my dad. If I remember all the times I wanted to escape it. Permanently.”

“Oh my god,” Mae whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh my god.”

“Of course he remembered. It was the worst fucking time of his life. Vernestra won’t let him forget it.”

Osha looked at the clock a second before it ticked over to 06:00. Her soul felt like it’d been dragged across glass. Mae cried quietly across from her, and Osha did her best not to stifle her pain. Not this time. Never again.

They both eventually calmed down enough to look each other in the eye. “The man you knew, the professional, the good coach, that’s the guy he fought hard to be. Vernestra doesn’t care; she wants to destroy him.”

“What do we do?” Mae asked, shoulders turned in.

Osha didn’t have the answers. She hadn’t slept, and her emotions were in a fucking crisis. “I don’t know,” she said in a whisper. “I don’t know if there’s anything we can do.”

She reached out a hand, palm-up, to her sister. Mae looked at it like she couldn’t quite believe it for a few seconds before taking it, clasping it like a lifeline. Osha’s heart, fractured and bruised as it was, swelled with the familiar muscle ache that meant healing.

It strengthened her resolve. “Thank you for telling me all that, Mae. A lot of it is… misinformed, but that’s not the point. I just need you to be careful. Vernestra won’t like that I know what’s going on.”

Mae shook her head. “She’s… thorough, that’s for sure.”

Osha wasn’t sure exactly what she was talking about, but nodded anyway, bleary-eyed and half-asleep. “We can talk about this later. I need to sleep.”

Mae smiled. It was a shaky thing, but it was returned, and that’s what mattered.

She called in sick to work before going to bed. She was not in the right headspace to deal with customers arguing that she made somebody else’s drink incorrectly. This is for the best, she thought as she fell asleep.

Her dreams were fitful, chased in a maelstrom by what she’d told Mae and what Mae said to her. It wasn’t nearly as pleasant as the brief dream she’d had in Qimir’s car.

She felt pretty numb by the time she woke up later that evening. The weight of what Mae had told her sat on her shoulders like a yoke—but not so heavy as the weight of her last question.

What do we do?

The idea of doing nothing filled her with indignant fury. She started there: Vernestra could not get away with this. Qimir had the right to live a quiet life outside the scope of her influence—and so did she, for that matter. Neither of them deserved to have lies spread about them, nor did they deserve to become pariahs for a terrible accident.

The issue was that with every inch of the mystery she peeled back, the conspiracy behind it grew ten times more complicated. She couldn’t keep track of it all, but she knew someone who could—someone who probably already did.

Someone with skin in the game.

When Monday morning rolled around, she knew she couldn’t wait until training that evening. She had to bring this to him sooner.

Two things worked out in her favor: she had Monday off because of the decreased hours, and her car was ready to be picked up from the shop. On her way to the community college, she hit a Starbucks drive-thru so she wouldn’t arrive empty-handed.

The admin assistant behind the welcome desk greeted her with a smile. “Hello! Can I help you find anything?”

“Yeah, I’m looking for…” Shit, what was it he said the athletes called him? “Coach Lo. Is he in?”

The admin halted, looking down at their desk and moving a few things to the side. They flicked their eyes up and down between Osha’s face and whatever they were looking at before they relaxed.

“Coach Lo is on sabbati—wait, not anymore. Sorry about that. A little discombobulated,” They grinned sheepishly. “Today’s his office day, but he stepped out to monitor swim practice. Are you on his schedule?”

Sabbatical? When had he gone on sabbatical? Her face must have said something because the receptionist continued.

“Ah, well. He should be done soon—would you like to wait for him in his office?”

“Uh, yeah, that’d be great, actually. But I don’t… this is embarrassing; it’s my first time visiting him at work, and I wanted to surprise him.” She tried to smile sweetly, and assured herself it wasn’t technically a lie. She held up the two coffees like festive cardboard access badges.

The receptionist just smiled. “I can take you there. I’m Cam.”

“I’m Osha.”

They chatted lightly as they walked through several winding hallways and down a gently sloping ramp. “I can’t believe they sent you on a wild goose chase around campus.”

“That’s what it felt like,” Osha sighed. “If I’d been out there any longer, these would have probably become iced coffees.”

They stopped in front of a door with a nameplate that said Q. Loharne, PT, DPT, CREX, LMT… and a whole bunch of other letters that went right over Osha’s head. Beneath his name was his title: Rehabilitation Coordinator.

Cam swiped a keycard to let Osha into his office, and she tried not to cringe at the utter breach of security she was definitely committing.

“He should be finishing up with practice soon, but you can wait for him in here.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m glad you’re here to surprise him,” Cam said. “He’d been pretty wound-tight for a while, and it seemed like he needed that break two-ish months ago. We were all pretty worried when he took it so abruptly, though.”

“Who’s we?” she asked curiously.

Cam’s disposition went from sunny to summery. Their answer tested their lung capacity, and it reminded Osha of Mae with an aching kind of fondness. “Oh, all of us! We love Coach Lo. Last summer—not like a few months ago summer but like laaast summer—I broke four of my fingers playing water polo and he called me an idiot for like three weeks straight including on my birthday but he made sure I’d be able to play volleyball by the time spring came around. He still asks me how I’m doing with it. He’s like that with all of us. If someone asks for his help, he’ll do everything to help them. I’ve never met another trainer like him.”

It warmed her heart. Qimir had really carved a place for himself here. It made the dark cloud hanging over his current situation that much sadder. She peered closer at one of the pictures on the wall: he was on the sidelines of a sporting event, making a completely undignified face while a giant jug of ice water was poured over his back. Wow, he really is a coach.

“I’ve never met anyone like him either,” Osha said when Cam hadn’t spoken up again.

“Sooo, have you been seeing each other long? Coach Lo doesn’t really talk about himself and doesn’t really get visitors but… if it were anybody else but him, you might make the gossip rounds in the athletics department.”

“Huh?”

“It’s kind of a rule. We don’t gossip about Coach Lo.” That certainly wasn’t the case at Unknown Planet. She’d been practically hounded with questions the few times Qimir had left her alone in the gym.

Osha grimaced. “We… yeah, it’s a more recent. Thing. Us.”

“Ah, so past the talking phase and now you’re going on dates and stuff?”

A laugh exploded out of her before she could help it. The what phase? Cam almost started looking suspicious, but she recovered quickly. “He’s, uh, taken me dancing.”

Their eyebrows flew up. “Coach Lo? Dancing?”

“I was surprised, too,” she said, accidentally taking a sip of his coffee and cursing when she left some lipstick on the white lid—okay, just give up on the lipstick, girl. He’s not gonna fuck it up how you want.

“Well, I gotta get back to my desk, but it was really nice to meet you, Osha!”

“You too, Cam.”

And then she was alone. In his office. Holding two festive cardboard cups of coffee and feeling more than a little in over her head. She hadn’t quite thought this out—honestly, she thought she would have been turned away the second she asked for him. She was 90% sure she’d broken some kind of security protocol by implying she was dating him just to get inside.

Oh well.

Maybe he’d be cool with it.

She set both cups on his desk and drifted around the room to resume snooping.

Osha had seen several spaces that belonged to him by now. His apartment, his dressing room at Unknown Planet, and his car were all neat and organized. Every inch had a sense of gratitude to it and from that gratitude, order. Mae and Osha hadn’t been orphaned long enough to have seen the inside of the FDO, but she could guess that scarcity was the norm there.

She would never have guessed this office was his without the nameplate outside telling her so. This space was more Osha’s speed: chaos. Random papers had been left strewn across most surfaces. The remaining space was covered by a truly baffling amount of reference texts, coffee mugs, and stacked file folders. She huffed a laugh at the sight of the dusty, powered-down desktop computer hiding among a pile of random crap, demoted to nothing more than a strange feature of the desk.

She recognized some familiar things: his black backpack, the laptop bag from his apartment, and the jacket he’d worn two nights ago. Everything else was foreign—but exceptionally compelling. Osha took it all in with hungry eyes.

His accolades were displayed with respect on the cement brick walls. There it was—Qimir X. Loharne, Doctor of Science in Exercise Physiology & Physical Therapy, magna cum laude.

“Hot damn,” she whispered to herself. “I barely graduated high school.”

Framed certificates and licenses neatly lined the space around it, a clear point of pride for him. Past that, there were plaques of achievement, awards given in thanks for his work with different groups, photographs of sports teams, and action shots of games. He wasn’t in all of the photos, but she could see his face and recognized the back of his head in a few.

She jumped nearly out of her skin when she realized two news clippings on the wall were much older than the others: the articles Osha had given him from the Temple and Sol’s apartment. Why did he—

Voices came by from down the hall.

“Cam, what do you mean, my girlfriend is in my office?”

Oh god. He’s here.

Two pairs of footsteps echoed down to her, and panic seized control of Osha’s movements. She sat down in the chair behind his desk, only briefly considering how presumptuous it might seem. Another pulse of insanity had her kicking her feet onto the one empty inch of his desk.

Many things happened at once.

He burst through the door, wearing a stricken expression she’d never seen before. He looked younger, but in a way that meant he looked scared. The moment he alighted on Osha in his chair, the fear left his eyes, and surprise took its place. Osha flinched mid-kick, and the integrity of the desk chair failed, sending her flipping backward toward the floor.

The moment seemed cartoonishly long.

She yelped at the same time he said her name, and within that one dizzying second, he somehow caught her. Kneeling beside her, he held her head in one hand and her shoulder in the other—holding her with a gentle strength that would have made her swoon if she were standing. Only the chair had made contact with the floor, clattering loudly behind her head. She winced and blinked at him as the world attempted to right itself. 

He still wore that dumbstruck look, and she was sure she looked pretty similar. His usual black baseball cap had been knocked askew, freeing some wisps of hair to frame his eyes. He’d gone from put together to disheveled in the span of a second, all because she couldn’t keep her goddamn balance sitting down.

They remained frozen like that for another long second, and then—

He started to laugh.

It started raspy and grew richer the longer she listened. She’d never heard him laugh like that before—he often just exhaled sharply in amusement or gave a single ha. to whatever silly thing she said or did. It stunned her more than flipping ass-over-teakettle in his desk chair. Once he started laughing, he couldn’t stop.

Osha gave in and joined him when it became clear he wouldn’t let her go anytime soon. 

The ridiculousness of her blunder and the sound of his joy cleared away the anxiety of arriving here unannounced. When he finally caught his breath, he looked down at her with the widest smile she’d seen on him yet. “Hi,” he said, voice still hitching with laughter. “Just dropping by?”

When he smiled at her like that, it was hard to remember what it felt like to cry.

She groaned at the pun but couldn’t help giggling along with him.“Hi,” she said. “I, uh, I brought you coffee.” Her heart wasn’t just racing; it was doing acrobatic stunts in her ribcage.

He looked up like he just noticed they were in his office. He saw the festive cardboard cups in their festive cardboard sleeves. “You did.”

She let him fuss over her as he helped her stand—until his face took on a more severe expression that told her he’d gone full injury-assessment mode. “I’m fine!” she insisted, batting at his hands.

The attractive pout on his lips undermined his glare. God, he was so close… it could be so easy to—

Cam filled the doorway. If Qimir had outrun them, he must have been booking it to investigate. “Coach Lo! Is everything okay? Should I call—”

“We’re fine, Cam. Thank you for checking, though.” Another setting, another voice of his. This time, he spoke with a familiar, unimpeachable authority that made her heart race. At the same time, it also carried a fond undertone, an undeniable compassion he reserved for any of the students in his care—Cam, in this case. 

She saw him take one of his pulse-taming breaths, a slow inhale followed by rock-steady stillness. Sheesh, you even memorized the way he breathes. Osha, be for fucking real.

She peeked around her stranger’s broad shoulder to wave at them. “Hi Cam!”

The receptionist sighed in relief. “Okay, great. When you took off like that, I thought I’d let in just some random person.” Osha bit her tongue. “But she didn’t match the—”

“No, Osha’s perfect,” her stranger said quickly. “I just didn’t expect to see her ’til tonight.” He tilted his head down to look at her, curiosity shimmering in his eyes. What are you doing here? those dark irises asked.

His expression hardened somewhat at the ‘we gotta talk’ face she made.

“Well great! It was nice to meet you again, Osha!” Cam said. “Bye, Coach Lo! You two have a good day!” They shut the door as they left.

The quiet enveloped them the way it seemed to love doing. He didn’t move from his spot in front of her but took off his cap, just to re-fit it on his head. Fidgeting. Her stranger was fidgeting. “I know it’s a mess in here, sorry.”

“You should see my room.” Objectively, it sounded like an invitation. A very large part of her mind wanted it to be an invitation.

But he rolled with it. “I can imagine.” He leaned back to grab his coffee. He hummed when he saw the plum-purple kiss she’d left on his cup. “This for me?” he asked, holding eye contact as he placed his mouth right over it to take a sip. She couldn’t move—even if she could, she wouldn’t have wanted to. He smirked. “Yeah, that’s for me.”

Was he talking about the coffee or the—

She made herself move; otherwise, this whole conversation would derail before it ever left the station. “What brought you here?” he asked once she sat across from the desk.

“I need to tell you something.”

A flash of worry crossed his features, but he hid it beneath an attempt at humor. “And here I was thinking you just wanted to see me.”

“In your dreams,” she scoffed.

He muttered something to himself, and when she asked him to repeat himself, what he said didn’t remotely resemble what his whisper sounded like. What he first said sounded more like, you have no idea. What he instead enunciated was—

“Can you blame me?” 

It was a phrase they’d exchanged several times, and a blatant attempt at finding familiar terrain between them. Something comfortable to step off of. She looked back at the other pictures of him, casting about for something, anything to delay the inevitable discomfort of this conversation.

“Osha,” he murmured.

She winced through her next words. “I talked with Mae. The way I think you wanted me to at the beginning.”

He set down his coffee and sat in his chair, dread drawing his easygoing expression into apprehension. “And what did she say?”

Osha recounted the terrible things she learned—Indara seeing them, Vernestra using it to blackmail Mae into digging into his personal life, Mae’s terrible question and his subsequent reaction, and the cascading events afterward. She left nothing out except for two things: Mae’s unsure call to action and the mention of that final line that seemed to make him snap.

This is the last round, Qimir.

As she spoke, he grew more quietly devastated. By the time she reached the end of her story, he was hunched over his coffee like he wanted to disappear. The quiet felt loud now, instead of comforting. He hardly moved, hardly breathed, breaths coming out small and shallow. He lifted his head at long last but didn’t meet her gaze. His eyes were vacant and glazed, staring over her shoulder at something Osha couldn’t see.

“Is this you taking the fuck off option?” he asked, voice wrecked by emotions he normally kept reined in.

“No!” she cried. She stood from her seat to step closer to him. “I just… you deserved to know. It’s about you, so it’s…” She didn’t quite know how to finish that sentence.

“You don’t hate me for treating your sister so harshly?” he looked disgusted, though not with her. He was disgusted with himself.

Sometimes, someone faces that part of themselves that thrives in violence, and finds they can look themselves in the eye without a mountain of guilt crushing them for the sin of what they’ve done.

“Hate you?” she said, shaking her head. “What Mae did was wrong. She wronged you. Even if she didn’t know what she was saying. Your reactions are understandable if not justified. I wouldn’t… She… god, I’m so sorry for what she did.”

His expression softened a little, but his jaw remained tense. “It’s not your fault, Osha. And it’s not Mae’s fault, either. I was the one that chose to let my emotions rule me.”

“Hey.” She came around to park her hip against his desk, standing right beside him. “You were the one that told me emotions cannot be controlled or erased. I’m no doctor, but… from what it sounds like, she unintentionally triggered you into a severe traumatic episode. You don’t have to forgive her for it, but… you have to forgive yourself for feeling hurt.”

“You don’t understand, Osha.” He pushed his hands through his hair, knocking his hat off. Nervously, he set it in his lap while he rocked back in his chair. He gestured to the wall with all his accolades. “It’s not a matter of forgiving myself. There are codes of ethics I have to follow for my job. Each code would condemn what I’ve been doing for the last eleven months. It’s… it’s wrong, what I did. What I do.”

“You mean entering in the fights?”

A haunted look filled his face. “Not entering the fights. Walking into the cage, and the terrible things I’ve done to leave it. Done to others, done to myself… I broke promises I wanted nothing more to keep.”

Osha’s stomach sank. The last time he spoke to her about promises, it was to tell her that he’d only reserve his love for someone who could feel as deeply as he did—to protect himself from getting hurt again. “What do you mean?”

His expression was pained. He didn’t want to talk about this, but he had to. “I was in a bad place, when I aged out. I got mixed up with people that normally don’t let you leave once you’re in. I did a lot of fucked-up things to get out. The people who helped me… I can never pay them back.

“But the second I was out, I knew I never wanted to go back to that life—scaring people, stealing from others, fighting for money. I swore I’d never hurt another person if I didn’t have to. I swore I wouldn’t—” He cleared his throat, nervously flexing the bill of his cap between his palms. Flat, curve, flat, curve. “Those promises kept the peace in my soul for more than ten years. I was… good. For the first time.”

Osha’s heart broke at the smallness in his voice. I was good. For the first time.

He wiped a hand over his face, hat falling to the floor. “All of that was upset the second she—” he cut himself off, closing his eyes.

She finished for him. “When she asked if you remembered.”

He nodded tightly, then gave a bitter laugh. It was so different than the laugh he’d given before. She missed it. “The problem is, I don’t… I don’t remember all of it. That’s scared me for a long time. The concussions, the pain—there are a lot of significant memories that cut in and out when I try to remember them.”

“I know what that’s like.”

He looked mildly horrified. “What?”

“I just… sometimes, I have to watch videos of the fight—to remember that it happened.” To remember that it happened differently than the flashbacks. Lights. Crying. Mat. Nausea. Pain.

“You don’t want to forget?”

She shrugged, crossing her arms. “Forgetting, remembering. They’re different pains that make you wish you had the other.”

He wasn’t happy she used his own words on him, but he at least understood where she was coming from. She went on, giving him a break from laying himself bare to her.

“I figured that if I could objectively remember every second of what had happened to me, it would hurt less whenever someone brought it up. Like tensing your core before you take a hit, except you never let your guard down because someone could always strike out at you.” Saying it out loud felt a little damning, a little ridiculous. “I told Mae the other night how fucked up it was that she said that to you. That it was like reminding me of Bestine. Like I’d let my guard down to trust her, and that’s when she started going in, striking me with remember whens. She’s never had to carry anything like the trauma I carry, let alone anything like yours. She doesn’t know the burden of remembering, even as far back as—” She stopped. Too much. Don’t bleed on his wounds. “But I think she understands now.”

He reached out his hand, warm from being wrapped around his coffee. She uncrossed her arms to hold his hand in both of hers, tracing her thumb over the peaks and valleys of his knuckles. He took care of his hands, unlike her. She had scars from years of building and breaking her hands for sport. Fingers that didn’t set right, burst blood vessels between her knuckles, calluses—a hundred self-destructive things she had yet to confront, carried on her hands. Flipping it over, she traced the tip of her finger over his palm. Mount of Venus, heart line, fate line, life line. He let her move and manipulate him, at such odds with the immovable force he was in the cage. These hands were a testament to a life hard-won.

“I’m sorry all of this happened to you, stranger.” It bore repeating.

He curled his fingers to lace them with hers. They look good like that, Osha thought.

“Me too.”

She drew a deeper breath, looking around at the walls. He surrounded himself with the trappings of a respected man in a career he was passionate about. I was good. They were reminders. Precious milestones for every step he’d taken away from the life he’d been forced into. Something he said earlier itched at her mind.

“If someone filed an ethics violation or something… what would happen?”

“I’d lose everything.”

When you lose everything—and I did lose everything—that’s when you’re finally free. Free of exploitation, free of expectation.

This kind of loss wouldn’t be freedom. This kind of loss would be more like a death.

What do we do?

“And there’s nothing to get Vernestra off your back?”

He squeezed her hand. “When I was young and still made of nothing but anger, I did try to destroy the Temple. The things Mae said about me trying to break the website and speak to journalists were true.”

A strange moment passed, where he looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes. The fear in them frightened her in turn. His mouth opened and shut, words bitten back repeatedly, until—“I was…”

He didn’t finish the thought.

Qimir squeezed his eyes shut, his head falling forward. He looked… defeated. Her hand moved as if possessed, coming to the back of his head so she could twine her fingers into his hair. He slumped into her form, pressing his head to her stomach and wrapping his arms around her legs. They held that embrace for longer than she could keep track. It could have gone on forever, for all she cared.

But eventually he did pull back, hands coming to bracket her thighs as he looked back up at her. He was no longer trepidatious, nor did his eyes shine with fear. And he did not finish what he was going to say before. Unease tickled the back of her mind.

“But all of that stuff was fifteen years ago. I can’t even imagine why Vernestra is still so caught on it.” Osha had turned it over in her mind relentlessly over the last twenty-four hours.

He leaned back, letting his hands fall off of her like rain clinging to glass. “I’m a…” he laughed, not in mirth but in irony. “I’m a loose end. She knows if I exposed what she did, it’d destroy her. It’d destroy the Temple, and probably take down another three dozen conspirators who sought to keep things hushed up.”

Conspirators? “Vernestra Rwoh holds grudges like lifelines,” she said, trying not to show her confusion.

“She sure does.” He took a breath. “To answer your question, I don’t know that there’s anything I can do. I certainly tried when I was younger, and it’s… not healthy to let myself think about returning to that mindset again.” His jaw flexed once before he turned a sad smile up at her.

Osha felt like she’d hit another wall. She’d expected Qimir to have some sort of agenda against Vernestra, especially after sending Mae to torment him about the past for eight months. She looked over at the wall again, at the degrees and the photographs and memories of all the times he’d done right. He wouldn’t risk his life any more than he already had, not for a chance to get even.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t do the same.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

[givemeasinglekidney]

Lights Are On | Tsukishima K.

Sorry for not updating! Life got insane if I listed it all out I’d have to make an entire paragraph

Also sorry for not posting the Suna one, I got commissioned to do this one! So I hope you enjoy!

This week seemed like nothing but a drag. For starters, Monday you woke up late, and your alarm clock didn’t go off because your phone wasn’t plugged in and died. The rest of the week seemed like nothing but loads and loads of homework assignments. And to top it all off, you just barely failed your math test. The world had it out for you.

But you had one thing to look forward to.

Your boyfriend.

Tsukishima Kei.

You two met when you were younger, in your first year of middle school. He was trying out for boys' volleyball, and you wandered into the wrong gym by accident trying to find the girls' volleyball gym. You ran into him and that sparked a conversation of witty remarks and sarcastic comebacks. Safe to say, he had some respect for you.

The summer before your first year of high school, he had asked you out. Everything in your eyes was perfect.

You were so supportive of him with volleyball. You ended up quitting because the girl's team wasn’t consistent and you thought of exploring your interests. Michimiya acknowledged your way of thinking and directed you to student council. You thought It’d be great for your future so you signed right up.

You were not prepared

You were not prepared at all.

You didn’t expect there to be so many projects you’d have to take on. All the papers that needed to fill out were insane. You bit more than you could chew due to others who weren’t putting in their effort. This led to you pulling multiple all-nighters and setting aside your needs.

But you always made time for him.

Every game of his you came to cheer him on, regardless of how he told you not to. You knew deep down he appreciated it.

With your combined workloads, you guys didn’t have much time to hang out or go on dates. You barely saw each other at school due to him being in class 1-4 and you being in class 1-5. That's how you made friends with Yachi and Kyoko.

It was finally Saturday and Tsukishima had a game. You were loaded with work, but the thought of seeing someone who loved you made the day a little bit better, so you went.

You knew this was important to him. It was the big game against shiratorizawa, the deciding factor on which team would go to nationals. You had faith in him.

But your heart dropped the moment the ball hit his fingers. By the way, he bent down, you knew something was up. You slowly recognized the red blood dripping from his skin as he walked off the court with Kyoko following behind. You were panicked. How could you not be?

You knew they wouldn’t let you into the nurse's office to see him, so you texted his phone. You may or may not have gone just a little overboard with worry and sent good 20-ish texts asking how he was.

Before you knew it, he was running back onto the court with Kyoko in toll. You couldn’t help but find it a little strange as he didn’t respond to your messages.

The game was over. They had won.

He had won.

You were so excited, you ran down to the first floor to congratulate him. It was crowded but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was him.

You reached the floor and made your way to the team. At the sight of everyone being celebrated, you spotted two blonde and green-haired best friends talking. Yamaguchi’s parents never show up to games, and Tsukishima’s brother was still making his way down.

As you walked closer, you started to hear their conversation.

But your demeanor surely changed.

“I’m sure they were just worried for you-” The shorter one spoke

“I don’t care. It's annoying and they should know it.” Said none other than your dearest boyfriend.

“I don’t need to be babied. I’m fine and it’s annoying as hell for them to constantly spam my phone over a small injury. I barely see them anymore, if they truly cared they’d make more time for me. There’s no way they’re that busy. I'm getting sick of it.”

Oh.

oh…

Your heart shattered.

That’s really what he’s been thinking all along.

Was everything just a lie?

You were in shock. You woke out of your trance as someone bumped your shoulder. Yachi and Kyoko were making their way through.

“Oh hey!” Yachi waved at you. “I’m so glad you made it! It was awesome wasn’t it!”

“Yeah…” You looked down, “It was.”

Kyoko looked at you with slight concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh it’s… um, it’s nothing.” You tried to laugh off, “I just have a lot of work to do, so I’ll be going.” And before they could say anything, you walked off.

You walked your way back home, pace slightly fast as you wanted to be in the comforts of your room before the tears fall out.

You reached your front door and slammed it shut. You couldn’t even slide down the door and wallow since you had papers to fill out. Taking off your shoes, you trekked your way to your room, not bothering to state your presents as your parents weren’t there. They barely were.

Being at home alone all the time made you feel like a ghost.

Like you’re just floating.

Like the lights were on, but nobodies home.

As you worked and worked, downing a coffee and a half, the clock went from 18:07 to 2:28. You had a headache and you weren't even done yet. Stacks of paper filled your desk as your laptop sat parallel to you, the glow making your head hurt worse.

Then there was a very faint knock.

You laid your head in your hands as you bent over onto your desk, fighting the urge to cry. Why was the world against you? All the work. All the pressure. All the absence of those who you loved.

Who you thought loved you.

The knock repeated.

You didn’t bother getting up. What lunatic was at your door at 2:30 in the morning? Being broken into was the last thing you needed.

You were so stuck in your thoughts you didn’t hear footsteps make their way over to your room and open the door.

“Can I come in?”

You didn’t bother turning. Didn’t even reply.

You heard the creek of your bed dip as you figured he sat down. You bed was right next to you desk, so he was sitting not far behind your chair.

“I saw your texts.” He started softly, “And I know you heard me. Yachi told me you left after I had asked if she’d seen you. Kyoko said you seemd upset and I knew you had listened in. I couldn’t sleep, and with the eye bags you come in with every morning I thought you’d might be awake.”

You removed your hands but kept you head on the desk facing down. You couldn’t find the energy to reply. He continued.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voiced questioned with a hint of concern, “Is all of this… Has this been what you’ve been dealing with all this time?”

He picked up some papers in the stack closest to him. You hummed a noise of affirmation.

He sighed, “Look. Im sorry. I guess all the adrenaline from the game got to my head and I said things I didn’t necessarily mean. It’s more of… I just missed you. Okay.”

You turned your head to look at him. He looks back at you.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Wow. I pour the little words I can from my heart to you and this is the thanks I get.” He replied.

You chuckled and rubbed your eyes. “I missed you, too.”

He got up from the bed and stood behind you, leaning down to hug you and rested his head on your collar.

“Take a break.” He mumbled.

“I’d love to, but these papers-”

“We can figure out the papers in the morning. You need rest. And I need my dork back.” He smiled.

“Oh shut up you.” You chuckled at his statements.

“I will when you take a break.” He sighed at you.

You stared at your work load and contemplated. But you were so tired you couldn’t think properly. Your boyfriend noticed and took the chance to start nudging you off the chair and guided you to bed. You laid down and he joined you, snuggling and he wrapped his arms around your torso.

As you drifted to sleep, you discarded the workload of those who couldn’t do the work for themselves. Don’t wake us up, we got nothing for you.

Yeah.

Maybe this can work.

There aint no love

like our love.

[caffeineyum]

Muffins (Chapter 6)

@biomecharnotaurus heyyyoo minimal Jane in this one but we get more info on how Alba handles trainees

Alba stumbled into the training center, Johnson had her trainees running laps and doing morning physical training.

“You look like shit girl,” Johnson commented looking Alba up and down. “Did that battle with the freezer take you out?” Johnson demanded, Alba had messaged him about the situation.

“Folded the door in half,” Alba smirked. “Slept terribly,” she explained.

“Well damn,” Johnson retuned her smirk. “Hope you’ve got that foldin’ energy still, we gotta whip these recruits into shape!”

“Energy for days,” Alba muttered, before taking a step forward. She took a deep breath before bellowing “Trainees form up!” At the command the group of twelve made their standard formation in front of her.

“Listen up, your DI has something important to say!” Johnson commanded pacing next to Alba. “It’s News about your graduation, which I’m so sure you all are so excited about!” Johnson barked. Alba took a little breath, they had also talked about this before. She was about to verbally hand them their asses. The twelve men and women focused their attention on Alba. “You all have been the worst class of Spartans I have ever trained.” She started, Alba didn’t enjoy this. “Because of your poor performance I pushed back the final test and now we only have a month before we go topside. If you continue on your current trajectory, this class will make the sorriest group of IVs ever. I’ve see your potential you all have it. Now step it up!” Alba commanded. “Do you understand me?” She growled.

“Yes Ma’am!” They replied, however one of her trainees failed to respond. He was chewing on his lip. This man was Petersen, often the first to challenge Alba and main leader of the class. Johnson noticed immediately and marched over to Petersen.

“Do you have a problem trainee? You heard the lady, step it up!” Johnson half questioned half yelled. Petersen grimaced at Johnson then glared up at Alba. Petersen’s friend Butler stood next to him and he looked tenser than a bunch of steel cable. Butler shot Petersen a look almost praying for him to keep his mouth shut. “Permission to speak freely sir,” Petersen requested through gritted teeth.

“Alright speak up, what’s on your sorry ass mind that you won’t agree to step up your training,” Johnson granted. Petersen’s eyes focused on Alba.

“How do you expect us to step it up when our DI is fucking the contractors at 0430 in the damn morning? You want us to step it up? Be a decent leader!” Petersen spat glaring into Alba’s eyes. Alba tilted her head to side confused then she realized it had been Petersen and Butler who had seen her with Jane in the morning. Alba almost laughed, instead a small chuckle escaped her lips at the absurdity.

“That was not what was going on,” Alba started. “And if you have a problem with my leadership, it better be a concrete example not something from my personal life,” Alba challenged Petersen. “What is your problem with how I lead?” She pushed further.

Petersen opened up his mouth to begin his protest “We’ve been working our asses off, how are we failing? And you,” Petersen stepped forward pointing at Alba. “How are we supposed to follow someone we can barely relate to? Spartan-III, whatever, you’re like a damn robot!” He shouted at her. Alba was stunned she had no idea what to say to him. Out of all the criticisms, ‘not relatable’ was not something she had ever gotten. “You’re failing because you’re incapable of listening to orders! You especially, can’t follow for shit,” Johnson stepped in, staring down Petersen. “You really think the UNSC wants a group of Spartans who can’t follow a simple order? Several million wasted on a group of enhanced thugs!” Johnson barked. “Because the orders even in the simulations are d-“ Petersen began.

“Does anyone else have a problem with me?” Alba asked, stepping between Johnson and Petersen. Alba and Petersen stared at each other, Petersen’s eye burned with fury. The group of Spartans behind them looked at each before staying silent. Realizing he was defeated Petersen turned away from Alba and marched back to the formation. “Alright let’s go! CQC and drills!” Alba commanded. She and Johnson assigned everyone a group and instead of putting Petersen with Legge, Alba took Petersen. She normally put them together because the two had such opposite fighting styles. Legge was a very calm individual and it carried over to her fighting style, Petersen, well… fought with the grace of rabid dog. Legge went to a group of three with Butler and Badovinac. So far Badovinac was their best trainee at CQC, so Johnson wanted to see what he could do against two of the top of the class. Everyone else got partners. They stared with basic drills of attacking and blocking. Petersen didn’t pull any of his punches and if Alba had missed any of the blocks, it would have left a significant mark. Most of these drills were lead by the partners until Johnson or Alba called for the start of sparring. Many of the trainees talked to each trying to help each other with technique. Alba was the first to speak between her and Petersen. “I appreciate your creativity in the stimulations,” she began as she threw an elbow at Petersen who blocked it. “But the scoring algorithm does not. Your skills will serve you well in the field but for the sake of the class, you need to follow orders.” Alba finished as Petersen threw a full force elbow strike at Alba’s head, she blocked it. “Oh yeah? Then fix the damn thing to give us points, ma’am,” Petersen spat.

“I wish I could. But this is a skill you need to learn. Learn it or watch the class you lead fail,” Alba retorted as they switched to kicking drills and she aimed a roundhouse kick directly at Petersen’s thigh. He blocked it with a low block.

“Yes Ma’am,” He agreed as he put his full body weight into a roundhouse kick. Alba using equal force, blocked it knocking Petersen off balance.

Alba had finished her work for the day and was on her way to gym. It had been one hell of day and she was excited to see Jane again. She hoped Jane’s day had gone much smoother after being trapped in the freezer. Alba rounded the corner and entered into the gym. She took a bench and pulled out her datapad sending Jane a message that she was at the gym.

‘Be there in 5!’ Jane responded. Suddenly Alba overheard someone saying her name. “She’s practically mechanical, there’s no social skills or human anywhere in Alba. Yet she gets that girl? What the hell? I’m twice as personable as she is!” It was Petersen’s voice and thanks to her augmentations she heard every word.

“I know she’s a bit stiff but she could have beaten the shit out of you and she decided not too. Plus she acknowledged your capabilities, if this all your mad about, your acting like a toddler.” That was definitely Butler’s voice. Alba turned her head and saw both Petersen and Butler talking at the water fountain. Petersen’s arms were crossed and Butler simply leaned against the wall. It always took a long time for IVs to get used to having Spartan hearing and being around others with it. This was a prime example. Alba shook her head and walked over to the water fountain. When the two saw her walking over they snapped to attention. “Ma’am!” Butler acknowledged her.

“At ease,” Alba spoke then looked at Petersen. “You’re right, I have no idea why she likes me.” Alba let out a small chuckle and Petersen’s face drained of color. “Next time use your temper for something useful,” Alba commanded setting a hand on Petersen’s shoulder. Petersen’s face was entirely white and his mouth hung open.

“Y-yes ma’am,” he sputtered as Alba heard a set of soft footsteps behind her. Jane suddenly then half hug half attempted to tackled Alba. Alba caught her and hugged her back, removing her hand off Petersen’s shoulder to catch Jane with both hands. “Hi!” Jane smiled at Alba then looked over at Petersen and Butler. “Who are your friends?” Jane asked looking up at Alba, Jane’s arms wrapped around Alba’s waist. Alba had one arm wrapped around Jane’s waist and another around her shoulders. “These are two of my trainees, Petersen and Butler,” Alba introduced them. “Nice to meet you!” Jane gave them both a wide smile. “Alba talks a lot about all of you guys,” she added. “Nice to meet you too,” Butler said for both of them. “Anyways we need to grab dinner,” Butler added and dragged Petersen away by his hand. “What was that about?” Jane asked, looking up at the Spartan with curious star like eyes.

“I’ll tell you later,” Alba determined half smiling.

[tingerines]

Pairing: Jamil x GN!Reader Genre: Fantasy, Fluff A/N: This fic is set in modern-day Japan where the NRC boys are magicless and you are the magical being. :^) I'm also today years-old when I realized I really put Ace as a side character for all of my fics.

Growing up, Jamil used to wish upon a star.

That star was always the brightest one in the night sky, yet it never seemed to stay up there for very long. But Jamil never minded that because to him, it was like that star disappeared to work on his wishes every time.

After some time, as Jamil grew older and became more preoccupied with the challenges life provided him, he stopped making wishes.

Long forgotten was the brightest star in the sky — though it continued to sparkle, watching over Jamil every night as if it was a sort of guardian angel.

He didn’t even notice that the star never left the sky anymore after he’d stopped making wishes.

That is, until one day, Jamil finally remembered the star.

It’s just past sunset on a Thursday evening when Jamil’s friend Ace comes strutting into his shared dorm room. He’s twirling a set of keys in his index finger while the other hand is shoved inside the pocket of his denim pants.

“Hey,” Ace greets as he leans against the wall next to Jamil’s desk. “Are you busy tonight?”

Jamil hums in response without taking his eyes off his laptop. He remains silent while his fingers are busy rapidly typing the last sentences to his history paper.

“Okay,” Jamil breathes out as he finally shuts off his laptop with a sharp click. He briefly rubs circles on his temple before glancing over at Ace. “What were you saying?”

“Are you free tonight? Deuce wants us to accompany him tonight for a project for his planet-something class,” Ace waves his hand dismissively in the air, the keys in his hand jingling along with the motion.

“We’re architecture majors. Why would he ask us for help?” Jamil asks as his face twists into a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“No, not help— unless he really wants to fail his class. He has to go look at some constellations or something, and he doesn’t want to do it alone. So can you come or not?”

Jamil chews on his lower lip as he thinks. He’d just finished the last assignment that’s due this week and he’s got no other plans for the weekend besides to catch up on sleep.

“Fine, I’m in,” Jamil rolls his eyes before getting up and trailing behind a much-too-giddy Ace.

He follows the male out of the dormitory to where his car is parked. In the backseat is seated a napping Deuce whose head is resting on Lilia’s shoulder. Meanwhile, Lilia is busy playing a game on his phone, and Jamil has to wonder how Deuce’s able to sleep when Lilia’s arms are shaking at 50 kilometers per hour.

“Sevens, Lilia. Could you be any more aggressive?” Ace asks once he’s situated in the driver’s seat.

“Sorry,” Lilia grins without a hint of guilt on his face. “Hey, Jamil.”

“Hey,” Jamil nods towards the older male after securing his seatbelt across his chest. “So… where are we going, exactly?”

“Shizuoka prefecture. It’s going to be quite the drive, so feel free to take a nap if you need it. I’m loaded on Red Bull too,” Ace enters the coordinates into his GPS before propping his phone up on a car phone mount.

Accompanying the monotone voice of the GPS is a playlist filled with piano covers of Studio Ghibli movies’ soundtracks.

It doesn’t take long for the gentle melodies to lull Jamil to sleep. His head gently and rhythmically taps against the cold surface of the car window as Ace cruises past the few hours’ drive to Gekko Observatory.

It feels like only a handful of minutes have passed by when Jamil is shaken awake by Ace. He groans as he stretches his arms out from his sides, his eyes blinking rapidly until his vision finally adjusts to the dark surroundings.

“We’re here?” Jamil asks, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

“Yes, we’re here. You wouldn’t wake up earlier, so I gave you an extra ten minutes,” Ace steps back and closes the car door once Jamil finally stumbles out of his seat. “Come on. Let’s go before I forget where Deuce dragged us off to.”

Jamil follows Ace as he makes his way past the main observatory buildings. They walk away from the well lit areas towards a much darker space, somewhere that allows them to see the stars in the night sky that much better.

They slowly approach a relatively large red tent set up in the middle of a grassy field. Beside it lay a still-gaming Lilia and Deuce setting up his telescope.

“Is this allowed?” Jamil asks as he plops down onto the grass next to Lilia.

“Yeah! As long as we don’t disturb the youth camp, I’m sure there’s no problem,” Deuce briefly nudges his head to the left before turning his attention back to his telescope.

Everyone sits in silence for a few minutes. For the small group of four, the silence is uncommon but it isn’t uncomfortable.

It gives them the chance to take in the fresh air and peaceful atmosphere that’s a stark contrast to life at university.

Jamil could hear crickets chirping, and it’s accompanied by the distant sound of children’s yells and laughter. The mental image of their carefree spirit brings a smile to his face without him even realizing it.

“So… what is it that you’re looking for, Deuce?” Lilia’s question cuts through the quietness first.

“Stars, Lilia. I’m looking for stars,” Deuce chuckles as he peers through the eyepiece of the telescope.

Jamil lays down onto the grass, his ears completely blocking out Lilia’s onslaught of questions for Deuce and his eyes trained on the dark night sky.

And there it was: a familiar bright twinkle in the sky.

Out of all the stars that he could see — and yes, there were many — that one shines the brightest of them all.

Then Jamil remembers that particular habit he had of wishing upon a star when he was younger. It’s been such a long time that he’d almost forgotten all about it.

But he feels certain that that star is the same star from his childhood.

A small smile plays on Jamil’s lips as he thinks back to all the wishes he’s made in the past. Most of them were silly, he was only a child after all.

His very first wish was for a plate of sushi in the middle of the night when he was only 7 years-old. It was on a night when he couldn’t fall asleep and decided to find his father who was still working in his home office.

“Dad?” Jamil whispers as he carefully opens the door and peeks into the dimly lit room.

Jamil’s father glances up from the pile of paperwork he’d been sorting through and smiles softly when he sees Jamil standing awkwardly at the entrance of his office, “hey, how long have you been standing there for? Come in, son.”

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t sleep,” Jamil scratches at the nape of his neck, a nervous habit he’d picked up on recently.

“That’s alright, I was just about done here anyways,” his father shakes his head and closes a thick manila folder shut. “How about we go out back? Maybe it’ll help you clear your head.”

“‘Clear my head’?” Jamil echoes, the curiosity clearly etched onto his face.

“Yes. Sometimes when I can’t sleep, it’s because I’m thinking too much about something. So we have to do something to help fix that,” Jamil’s father gets up from his seat and holds a hand out towards Jamil.

“Okay, what are we doing?” Jamil places his hand in his father’s much larger one and follows the man out of his home office.

They walk towards the back of the house, towards the French doors that open up to a generously spacious backyard.

Jamil and his father take a seat on one of the benches there, and for a moment, no one says anything.

But, unlike how he is today, 7 year-old Jamil cannot sit still — at least, not in silence — for very long. Not even when there’s an ensemble of crickets surrounding him.

“Dad?” Jamil pokes at his father’s shoulder, “what are we doing out here?”

“Well…” his father sighs before gazing up at the night sky. Jamil’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion before he followed his father’s gaze. “We’re stargazing.”

“Why?” the question comes out sounding a bit meaner than Jamil intended it to. He shakes his head quickly, as if to dismiss the question. “I—I’m sorry, I mean…”

His father chuckles before placing a hand on Jamil’s shoulder, “it’s okay, I understand what you meant. Have you heard about making wishes on stars?”

“Like that one song? From Cinderella?” he tries to say it rather nonchalantly, but due to his younger sister’s recent obsession with Disney princesses and their movies, Jamil begrudgingly has the song lyrics memorized at this point.

“Just like that,” his father chuckles again, his eyes sparkling in amusement as if he could read Jamil’s thoughts. “Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I’ll just sit out here and look at the stars. It’s very relaxing to me. And sometimes, maybe on the days when I feel too stressed out about something, I’ll make a wish on one.”

“Why are you stressed out, dad?” Jamil inquires with a prominent frown to his face.

“Because… of adult things that you don’t have to worry about for now.”

“Oh… but can I still make a wish anyways?”

“Of course, you can. Just pick a star and think about your wish. You can’t say it out loud or it won’t come true,” his father ruffles his hair and gives him a kind smile before returning his attention back to the sky.

Jamil also looks up at the sky where a bright star immediately catches his attention. Perhaps it was because he didn’t take the time to look elsewhere, but he could have sworn that one was the brightest of them all.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to wish for. Heck, he wasn’t even sure he believed in wishing on a star.

But there’s a first for everything, right?

So, with his dark orbs fixed on that bright star and his stomach inaudibly grumbling, Jamil wishes for the first thing that comes to mind: sushi.

He didn’t say it out loud and there weren't any special occasions coming up that would warrant it — but when Jamil woke up the next morning, he found a wide assortment of sushi rolls laid out on the kitchen table.

He thought that there was no way it could have been a coincidence, that the star must have heard him and granted him his wish. That moment made him a believer, and he began to make wishes more frequently.

“Deuce, what’s the name of that star? That really bright one,” Jamil asks without thinking, the question interrupting the conversation his friends had been having.

“Which one?” Deuce looks towards the sky, trying to pinpoint exactly where Jamil’s index finger was gesturing towards. “I think you may be looking at Arcturus. It’s the brightest star in the Boötes constellation.”

“So that’s its name,” Jamil mumbles to himself.

“What was that?” Deuce asks with his head tilted slightly.

“No, it’s nothing. Thank you,” Jamil shakes his head dismissively.

His silence after that is enough of a signal to his friends that he was done with the brief conversation. If he tries to explain his attachment to the star, would his friends think that he was being silly?

He thinks even Deuce, the one who is absolutely in love with them, would think that it was weird.

So, Jamil keeps the star as a secret to himself.

Perhaps he isn’t afraid of his friends thinking of him as foolish. No, perhaps it is merely a part of his selfishness that if the star could truly grant wishes, he wanted to keep that ability all to himself.

That brings him to a wish that suddenly blossoms inside his heart. He’s not sure when the seed was planted there, but a sudden thought occurs to him.

If the star could really hear me now, I wish I could meet them and say ‘thank you’ to them.

Jamil has to fight the sudden urge to slap himself because of how silly he finds the thought. Where did it even come from?

The lack of sleep and feelings of nostalgia must be causing him to think irrationally.

He finally sits up and scoots himself closer to the small circle his friends have formed around Deuce’s telescope.

“Do you want to take a look?” Deuce asks when he notices the thoughtful look on Jamil’s face. His body is slightly turned towards him as he nudges his telescope’s eyepiece aside. “At the stars, I mean.”

“Can I?”

“Sure. If it was Lilia, I’d think twice.”

“Hey! I’m not the one that spilled spaghetti on Ace’s laptop!” Lilia protests loudly which causes the other three men to shush him before they receive a complaint. He grimaces before lowering his voice, “sorry, sorry.”

“I only spilled it because someone decided it was the perfect time to body slam me in the cafeteria,” Jamil jokingly bites back before getting up and making his way towards Deuce.

“Arcturus, right? I adjusted the telescope so if you look, you can see it even more closely,” Deuce takes a seat on a short bench besides the telescope, watching as Jamil closes one eye and peers through the eyepiece with the other.

“Whoa,” Jamil says in awe under his breath once his eyes have adjusted to the new way of seeing the night sky, “it’s even prettier through a telescope. I can see why you enjoy this so much.”

“It’s never too late to change your major if you want to join the dark side,” Deuce chuckles as his head tilts back to look at the sky as well.

“In your dreams,” Jamil mumbles with a grin on his face when he finally leans away from the telescope. “Plus, Ace would literally bury me ten feet under if I left him in the program by himself.”

“I heard that,” Ace calls out before chucking a handful of grass towards Jamil’s head that falls down almost as quickly as it was sent up.

Deuce laughs again and sends Ace an apologetic look, “don’t worry, your best friend is safe and sound in the architecture department with you.”

Ace immediately makes a gagging sound at the mention of “best friend” before turning his attention back to the game he and Lilia were busy playing.

“Well, I’m just about done here. Maybe another hour and we can start heading back,” Deuce announces. “And… thanks for coming out here with me tonight, guys.”

The news is met with an unanimous “okay” from the rest of the group. Jamil moves away from the telescope so Deuce could take his place and continue whatever project he’d been working on prior.

“Huh, that’s weird. Arcturus is gone,” Deuce says aloud, mostly to himself, but the words capture Jamil’s attention.

Jamil’s gaze trails up to where he’d been captivated by the bright star mere moments ago, only to find that it was truly gone.

Just like before. How strange…

❥

The following Monday, there’s someone Jamil has never seen before sitting at the seat next to his usual one in one of his classes. He makes eye contact with them almost immediately after walking into the room and thinks they definitely must be a new student.

There’s no way I’d forget such an attractive face like that.

Someone behind Jamil clears their throat, signaling for him to move, because he’s blocking the flow of traffic by standing right in the middle of the doorway.

“Oh, sorry,” Jamil mumbles and bows his head apologetically.

He makes his way towards his seat with his eyes glued to his shoes, all of his usual confidence slowly leaking out. He’s not sure why the unknown person beside him is making him feel so nervous, and he’s not quite sure how to deal with it.

Lucky for Jamil, he doesn’t have to make the first move today.

“Um… excuse me?”

Jamil feels a poke on his upper arm. It makes him look up and make eye contact with you once again.

“Yes?” Jamil answers, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laugh lightheartedly and lower your voice’s volume to match his, “Jamil Viper, right? I’m Arcturus, but you can call me y/n.”

Jamil blinks rapidly while his mouth continuously opens and closes. He’s clearly caught off guard by the mention of the bright star, but you seem completely unphased by his reaction.

“You’re pranking me, right? Did Ace tell you to say that?”

“Who— ah, your friend with the heart marking? No, he didn’t.”

“Then Deuce did?”

“Not him either. This isn’t a prank, Jamil. I’m really Arcturus,” you state firmly.

The man narrows his eyes suspiciously at you, “prove it.”

“Hm… let’s see,” you tap your chin as you mentally sort through the many wishes Jamil has made as a child. “Ah! When you were 10 years-old, you wished for a pet tyrannosaurus rex after watching the Jurassic Park movies.”

“That’s a lucky guess.”

“Fine. Wouldn’t it be better if you made a wish now and I grant it? You can’t tell me I just got lucky then.”

“Are you tricking me into making a wish? Are you sure you’re not just a sneaky little genie?” Jamil asks playfully.

“I can see why you’d think that I’m a genie, but as you can see: there’s no magic lamps involved here,” you state with a bright smile, one that doesn’t do justice to how brightly you shine in the sky. “And I wouldn’t trick you like they would either. Just tell me your wishes as they come to your heart, and I’ll make them come true. That’s what I’ve always done, right?”

Jamil wasn’t expecting for you to answer so genuinely. They were just rhetorical questions he asked without thinking, but he could tell that you were being truthful.

Still, a big part of him is suspicious.

In what world would a star become a human? And out of all the things they could do, why would they come and find him?

The other, smaller part of him wants to believe you. So he plays along and decides to humor you.

“Just like that?” Jamil asks with an eyebrow cocked up apprehensively.

“Well, you know, there are rules. But yes: just like that.”

“Okay… and what are the rules?”

“They’re exactly what you’d think they’d be: nothing illegal, nothing that can harm others— which, uh, I guess ties into the first rule.”

“And how many do I get?”

“Three.”

“Ahah, so you admit that you’re a genie.”

“Not a genie,” you giggle before tapping the tip of Jamil’s nose gently. “So, what would you like to wish for first?”

“That’s a very important decision, Arct—”

“Y/n,” you quickly interrupt the man to correct him.

“Y/n,” Jamil articulates with a raise of his eyebrows and a nod, “you’ll have to give me some time to think. I’m not even sure what I want to wish for yet.”

“Boo!” you whine, leaning over the long desk with your arms stretched out in front of you. “Well, if I have to wait then it shouldn’t be in the middle of a boring history lecture.”

As if on cue, the screen of Jamil’s phone lights up to indicate that he has a missed notification. He narrows his eyes at you one last time before unlocking his phone.

“Huh,” Jamil makes a sound that's mixed with surprise and confusion when he reads a new email on his phone. “My professor has never canceled class before. Did you… did you do this?”

You shrug when Jamil points his phone at you accusingly. But you’re pleased to see that he seems to believe you a bit more now.

There’s loud shuffling noises coming from all around you as students busy themselves by cheering for their canceled lecture and packing up their untouched laptops.

“So?” you ask, an expectant look on your face.

Jamil bites on his lower lip and taps the cap of a pen on the desk rhythmically. He stares off into space, seemingly deep in thought, and you wait patiently for him to sort through his predictably long lists of possibilities.

“Would it…” you start, poking at Jamil’s forearm to make him look at you. “Would it help if I mention that you can still make wishes even after the three?”

“What do you mean?” Jamil tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“I mean, I only came down here because hanging out in the sky all night long is so boring. You try doing it for a countless amount of centuries, then trust me — you’ll understand,” you wave your hands dismissively. “Anyways, that’s besides the point. The point is: you had unlimited wishes when you were a child, and you’ll still have unlimited wishes after I finish granting the three here.”

Jamil nods in understanding before abruptly standing up and slinging a backpack strap over his shoulder, “you should’ve led with that, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to speaking to humans directly,” you say before your eyes shift between Jamil’s face and the hand he’s holding out towards you. “What?”

“I think I might know what my first wish is, so come on,” Jamil inches his hand closer to you, a signal for you to place yours in his.

You comply, allowing the man to pull you out of the empty classroom and towards an unknown location.

It’s a sunny day, a perfect day for an afternoon stroll. And despite it being the middle of the fall semester, there’s more than a handful of students frolicking in the spacious college yard instead of studying.

The sight of them being so happy and carefree brings a smile to your face. It’s rare for you to see humans during the day time — and even more rare for you to see them not stressed out by something when you do get the chance.

Really, most of the time the bright sun rays block the sight of earth from you. It restricts you to only observing them during the nighttime, when most of the population is already asleep.

Soon, the large crowds of students become much more sparse until only a few of them are left hanging around.

“Um, Jamil? Where are we going exactly?” you chime up.

It takes a few more minutes of walking before Jamil finally stops, and your shoulder accidentally bumps into his back from your lack of attention.

“Here,” Jamil turns around to face you, his ears completely blocking out your murmured apology.

You lean over to the side to peek behind Jamil only to straighten up and raise an eyebrow at the man a second after, “and what are we doing standing by this long stretch of pavement?”

“We’re here for my first wish: I wish to learn how to roller skate.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s… a very tame wish,” you state plainly.

You take Jamil’s backpack off his shoulder before squatting down and unzipping it. Your hand digs into the textbook filled space and pulls out a pair of roller skates.

Jamil’s eyes practically bulge out in shock when he sees them, because there’s no way something like that could have fit inside his small backpack.

“But as you wish,” you grin as you hold the roller skates up towards Jamil.

“Whoa, how’d you do that?” Jamil gasps as he takes them from you.

“Do you believe me now?” you counter, crossing your arms and watching as Jamil hurries to replace his tennis shoes.

“I’m ninety-nine percent convinced. Just depends on how quickly I learn how to roller skate now.”

“You know that I’m not a miracle worker, right?” you stand up quickly, your arms reaching out just in time to catch Jamil as he slips forward.

When the man turns his head, your faces are so close to one-another that the tips of your noses touch.

“S—sorry. Tha—thank you,” Jamil manages to stammer out, his ears immediately turning a bright shade of red from embarrassment as he straightens up.

You’re undeterred from the close proximity, human feelings of embarrassment or shyness not a part of your vocabulary. So you giggle and merely find Jamil’s reaction dramatic and adorable.

“Don’t be so jumpy. How am I supposed to teach you if you don’t let me get close enough to do so?” you stand behind Jamil’s wobbly frame, your hands placed on either side of his waist to steady him.

“Well, I thought you’d snap your fingers and I’d just magically know,” Jamil mumbles.

“I could, but that’s no fun, Jamil. And I came here to have fun.”

“I thought you came here to grant my wishes.”

“Oh, that too,” you nod, though the carefree tone of your voice does nothing to convince Jamil of your intentions. “Now, we’ll start off by teaching you the correct posture. The most important thing here is balance, so I’ll have to let you go now.”

“Perfect,” Jamil’s body stiffens once he feels your warmth leave his body.

The chilly autumn air does nothing to help him from missing your earlier proximity. But the more you try to coach him through the basics of roller skating, the warmer his body gets.

To anyone on the outside looking in, it may seem that Jamil is a natural at the sport. But, as fast a learner Jamil is regularly, there is no way he’s able to pick up on things as quickly as he did today.

Not to mention, his friends have already tried multiple times to teach him how to roller skate before with minimal success.

Who would have thought all-rounder Jamil Viper actually had a weakness?

Now it feels as if Jamil is moving off of muscle memory. The things that you instruct him to do sounds unfamiliar to his ears, but his body follows everything to a T.

You watch like a proud parent while Jamil glides up and down the long walk of pavement as if he’s been doing it his entire life. The sound of his gleeful laughter ringing through the air makes you smile brightly in response.

“Should we try doing some tricks now?” you ask as Jamil passes by you again.

At your question, Jamil presses down hard on his right toe to break and gives you a panicked look, “are you serious?”

“I’m serious and I haven’t failed you yet,” you place your hands on your hips, the determined look on your face telling Jamil that he couldn’t back down now.

“If you can actually teach me how to do tricks by the end of the day, then I’ll believe you.”

“Oh, done deal!” you clap in excitement, “let’s get started then!”

❥

“Remind me again why we’re here, Jamil?” you ask as you gaze up at the intricate entrance to the Centre Pompidou.

“I’m studying architecture. I wanted to see all the famous monuments of France for my studies since my classmate Rook wouldn’t stop talking about it,” Jamil replies, his hands busy taking pictures of the complex building with his phone.

“And here I thought you were just making any excuse to miss your classes.”

“Would you judge me if I say that’s kind of true?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” you shake your head before holding your hands out. “Here: do you want me to take a picture for you?”

“Oh, sure. Thank you,” Jamil hands you his phone before jogging a few feet forward and facing you.

With a few clicks of the Camera app, you complete the routine that’s been established for the past few days since you’ve arrived in Paris, France.

Jamil’s second wish was quickly made the day after you taught him how to roller skate. After spending the night thinking about all the things he never got the chance to do, he went out to find you again.

It wasn’t hard for him to, you’d already told him that you’d be hanging around one of the many coffee shops surrounding the college campus.

“Oh, thank goodness you found me. I was starting to get bored,” you sigh in relief when you look up from your laptop to find Jamil sliding into the seat across from yours.

He doesn’t bother to ask where your laptop came from, or how you have the money to pay for the mocha latte in your hands. At this point, he believes that you’re capable of more things than he could possibly ever understand.

“Are you okay? Is there something on my face?” you ask when Jamil doesn’t say anything.

You gently pat your cheeks in search of anything that feels out of place, assuming that’s why Jamil is staring at you wordlessly.

“What? Oh. No. Sorry, no. You, uh, you— you look great,” Jamil shakes his head quickly before he presses his lips into a thin line and averts his eyes down to the coffee table. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

You know that Jamil is usually not shy, usually not someone who stammers unless he’s nervous — it’s a rare occurrence.

So, you think perhaps he finds you intimidating: a celestial body who could probably strike him down if he’s not being too careful with himself.

It could explain why he treats you like one of his friends one minute but becomes flustered the next.

“You know that I’m not going to strike you down with lightning, right?” you lean forward with your arms crossed on the table and your lips curved up into an amused smile.

“L—lightning?” Jamil asks nervously as he scratches the nape of his neck. “Would you be able to? Strike me with lightning, I mean.”

“My name isn’t ‘Malleus’, but yes: I could if I really wanted to,” you shrug nonchalantly. A horrified look appears on Jamil’s face, and you would have found it comical if he didn’t look exactly like a deer in headlights. “But you haven’t done anything to warrant that, so don’t be so scared.”

“I’m not scared. It’s just that you’re… kind of intimidating,” Jamil huffs.

“Are you intimidated because I’m not actually human, or because your charmingly good looks don’t have any affect on me?”

“Um…” Jamil looks at you in the same way a guilty child would look at their parents during a scolding: with wide puppy dog eyes and lips jutting out into a pout. “The first one?”

“You mean the second one,” you correct the man confidently. “It’s not the first option because you still don’t believe me yet, but you will soon.

“Speaking of which,” you clear your throat before leaning in closer and lowering your voice, “do you have any ideas for your second wish?”

“Oh. Actually, y—yeah, I do,” Jamil says slowly, almost hesitantly.

“You don’t sound very confident about that.”

“Well, it’s a very big wish. I, uh… I wish I could go to France.”

“Now that’s the kind of wish I’ve been waiting for,” you nod in approval before taking your last sip of coffee and firmly placing the cup down. “Let’s go.”

“What, now?” Jamil emphasizes the last word with the raise of his eyebrows. “Y/n, you’re always in a rush, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just used to getting these wishes done right away. So… not right now?”

“Oh, no, we can go today. I’d just need to pack some stuff first.”

“Ah, that’s right,” your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ when you realize you’ve been rushing to get moving without thinking first. “Yes, go pack whatever you need and come find me again when you’re ready to go.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later?” Jamil is already up from his chair before he could finish the question.

The excitement he exudes is contagious and you couldn’t hold back the giggle bubbling up in your chest.

“You know where to find me,” you wave the man off, gesturing for him to leave the coffee shop quickly.

Less than a week has passed since Jamil made the wish that has you turning into a tourist, but it feels like you’ve spent at least a month together.

You spend every day in the same fashion as you did today: head off to a famous French monument that was in a far too long list Rook provided Jamil, he takes who knows how many pictures for future references, and then you offer to take his pictures.

You have the steadiest hands out of anyone you know — which, to be fair, isn’t that many humans in the first place — yet those pictures always turn out somewhat blurry.

Today’s pictures at the Centre Pompidou is no exception to this.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I bother anymore. You should just delete those,” you sigh, your shoulders drooping in defeat as you watch Jamil swipe through his camera roll.

Despite you telling him that every single time, Jamil always keeps the pictures that you take of him.

Then, when you aren’t looking, when you’re busy taking in the beautiful sights around you, Jamil sneaks in a few pictures of you.

He’s not sure what will happen to them once you’re gone. Would they stay on his phone and you simply become a J. Doe to the rest of the world? Or would they disappear forever as if you were never there to begin with?

He bets if he asked you nicely, you’d allow him to keep those memories with him.

“So, shall we go inside?” you ask as you shove your hands into the pockets of your wool overcoat.

Your question interrupts Jamil’s brief thoughts, who merely blinks before he turns his attention to you, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you want to go inside?” you reword and repeat your question.

“Oh. Yeah, let’s go,” Jamil nods and holds a hand out towards you.

You hesitate for only a moment before you take a hand out of your pocket and place it in his. Your skin feels cold against Jamil’s, though it’s uncertain if it’s because of the weather or something else.

Still, in an attempt to keep you warm, Jamil intertwines his fingers with yours and sticks your hands into his kangaroo pocket.

How did Jamil get from jumpy and intimidated to becoming comfortable enough to hold your hands in a matter of a week? Even he wouldn’t be able to give you an answer for that.

Perhaps his courage is influenced by the atmosphere that the city of love provides; it’s where couples in love roam freely, they hold hands and sneak in kisses whenever they can.

Jamil tells himself that the two of you are merely blending in with the crowd — that there’s no way he has a crush on you.

But as he watches you studying the artwork displayed neatly along cream-colored walls, he finds that he’d prefer to look at you instead of the exhibitions.

Snap out of it, Jamil Viper.

As if you could read his thoughts, you defy him, appearing in front of the man like an unexpected dream. Like always, there’s a beautifully wide smile on your face that makes Jamil’s heart skip a beat just at the sight of it.

“Are you okay? You’re all spaced out today.”

“What? No, I’m not,” Jamil huffs before he steps aside to let a group of tourists walk past.

“No, you’re not okay or no, you’re not spacing out?”

“No, I’m not spacing out. I was just deep in thought— yeah, deep in thoughts of what this painting could possibly mean,” Jamil gestures towards a medium-sized canvas to his right without really looking at it.

“That’s a painting of the Mona Lisa holding a chubby ginger cat. I’m not really sure that there’s any special meaning to it,” you chuckle briefly before you reach out to gently tug at the sleeve of Jamil’s hoodie. “Come on, mister, let’s go.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” Jamil asks as he uncrosses his arms and allows you to drag him past the long and heavily populated hallways of the art gallery.

“I figured you could use a change of pace from all the art museums and history— not that there’s anything wrong with any of those places. But I planned a little surprise for you.”

“You did?” Jamil’s eyebrows quirk up in surprise.

“Okay, I admit the idea just popped into my head,” you glare playfully at the man. “But I’m not the one trying to find a deeper meaning to a cat painting.”

Jamil doesn’t say anything in response, doesn’t try to tell you that he finds you even more mesmerizing than all the artwork in the building combined — and that he’d been staring at you this entire time.

He just lets out a short laugh and nods in agreement.

You stop in front of an emergency exit door before turning around to face Jamil. The serious look on your face is a rare sight to see and the man knows that he should take your next words seriously.

“Don’t freak out when I open this door,” you say slowly, making sure to enunciate every word.

Jamil nods again before his eyes trail up to the bright exit sign above the door, “are we… going to trigger the fire alarm for fun?”

“Definitely not. I’m sure that actually goes against both of my rules,” you take a few steps backwards until your back is pressed against the push pad of the exit device.

Jamil braces himself for bright flashing lights and loud alarms when you push the door open, but he’s met with neither of those things.

Instead, he sees beautiful shades of orange on the other side of the door. There’s a generously wide and long stretch of grass lined with various types of trees, and both locals and tourists lounging about the large space.

“Don’t worry, we’re here for a picnic,” you nod your head towards the scene, waiting for Jamil to walk past the threshold of the door to follow him out.

Jamil glances back when the door softly shuts behind you, the surprise evident on his face when he finds that it’s been replaced by a black Peugeot 208.

“Sometimes I forget that you’re actually a magical being who can do stuff like that.”

“And you don’t seem as shocked as you should be for a human being,” you shoot back with a grin. “Not that I’m complaining. I’d much prefer that to you screaming in fear.”

Jamil looks unamused at your last sentence. He knows exactly what you are referring to: the first time he experienced the unexplainable things that you are capable of.

That experience was similar to what you’d done just now, and it was what solidified his belief in you.

“Okay, but you didn’t warn me that opening the door to a washroom was going to lead me to the top of the Eiffel Tower. This is a lot more acceptable.”

“Well, I figured we could make the journey a lot easier and faster by doing that,” you shrug, the contents of the picnic basket in your hands making soft shuffling noises as you move. “Now, let’s go find an open space to sit.”

You follow closely behind Jamil as he maneuvers around small clusters of chatty folks, most of which doesn't hear his muttered “excuse me.”

You follow him until you reach nearly the end of the grassy terrain where there is a decent amount of available space for you to lay a blanket on top.

“Where are we anyways?” Jamil asks once you’re situated on top of the thick blanket protecting your clothes from the damp grass.

“The Luxembourg Gardens. I overheard someone saying that it’s the perfect spot for a picnic, and figured you could use the change in scenery.”

Jamil has to admit that you’re right about that.

The much needed fresh air aside, Jamil finds that he surprisingly enjoys seeing all the beauty that nature has to offer as much as he enjoys studying the intricate ways buildings can be made.

Or, at least, he used to enjoy it.

That was before he decided to take on as many classes as he could in a single semester when he started college. All his time is spent on studying and making sure he got all his assignments done on time.

Somewhere along the way, he even managed to secure an internship that took up even more of his time and attention.

What little free time he earned would be spent on making sure his friends knew that he was still a functioning member of society. Even then, Jamil would spend the entire time thinking about both the assignments he’s already completed and the ones he left for later.

Ace would say that he’s burned out and needs to step foot outside of the college grounds more often.

Now he’s really taken that advice to heart, because how much farther away from college could he get than Paris, France?

“Clear your head and eat a carrot, Jamil,” you interrupt the man’s thoughts by waving a baby carrot in front of his face.

“Veggies,” Jamil groans before a look of utter disgust overtakes his features.

“What?” you ask in the most innocent tone you could muster up and bring the carrot closer to Jamil’s face.

“Please, I’ll literally eat anything else,” Jamil sticks his tongue out in a mock gagging motion as he leans further away from your hand.

“You mean you’ll eat anything that’s not fruits or vegetables, right? That’s bad, you know,” you click your tongue in disapproval before taking a small bite of the baby carrot. “Maybe you should use your last wish to make all of it taste like pasta.”

“Can you do that?”

“I could but I won’t.”

“Why not?!”

“Because I will not be the person responsible for you getting tired of eating pasta. You’ll hate me forever and I don’t want that.”

“Well, I’ll hate you anyways if there’s no pasta in that basket,” Jamil says jokingly, his teasing causing you to throw the baby carrot towards his chest in retaliation. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

You narrow your eyes at the man before you stick a hand inside the picnic basket and pull out a plastic container filled with chicken alfredo. Jamil lets out a loud cheer at the sight and smell of the food, his abrupt holler earning him a few glances from nearby visitors.

“You get so excited about food, Jamil. I remember you used to wish for sushi and ramen all the time as a child,” you giggle, watching with sparkling eyes as Jamil takes the container from your hands and hurriedly opens it.

“Well, the purpose of life is to eat and enjoy as much food as you can, you know?”

“Oh, is it now?”

“It sure as heck is the purpose of mine,” Jamil nods firmly.

You hum in response and curl up into a loose ball with your arms hugging your legs and chin resting on top of your knees. Your eyes flutter shut just as a gentle breeze begins to blow.

The sun is setting behind Jamil’s hunched over figure, the warm sunlight illuminating your figure and making you appear nearly ethereal in Jamil’s eyes.

You’re so beautiful.

Jamil averts his eyes just as quickly as the thought enters his mind; and as he shoves forkfuls of pasta into his mouth, he tries hard to ignore the warm feeling igniting inside his chest.

❥

“This is a dream, isn’t it?”

“What?” you ask, turning your head to look at Jamil who is laying towards the opposite direction of you but with his head resting right by yours.

“I keep thinking that this entire trip — and you — are all just part of a really long dream,” Jamil sighs before he also turns his head towards you.

“Would you like me to pinch you? Isn’t that what people do when they think they’re dreaming?”

Jamil laughs at your questions, his warm breath fanning across your face and his eyes curving into rainbows. He knows that you’re genuinely asking, but he still finds you too innocent and adorable for your own good.

“No, I think I’d like to stay inside this dream. But thank you for the offer.”

“You’re welcome.”

Comfortable silence blankets over the two of you as you resume your previous activities of stargazing. At least, an attempt is made because there aren't as many stars in the Paris night sky as you’d like there to be.

Regardless of that, Jamil tries to savor every moment of relaxation he’s been awarded since you’ve come into his life.

He can’t remember the last time he’s been able to take a step back to just breathe like this.

His normal life has no time for hobbies — there isn’t any time to spare to learn how to ice skate, roller skate, snowboard, or any other fun activities his friends like to do.

This is the first time he’s been able to travel out of the country, for vacation no less, and he isn’t even stressed out about the schoolwork he’s probably missing out on right now.

It feels like a dream: being able to lay on the grass of the Luxembourg Gardens with no worries and with you by his side.

“I wish that this dream would last forever,” Jamil whispers, his voice barely audible but you’re close enough that you can still hear him. “Can you make that happen?”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Jamil.”

“It’s just that… since you came along, I feel like I can finally breathe again. This is the most relaxed and carefree I’ve felt in a very long time. I didn’t even realize how stressed out I was before, and—and I don’t want to go back. ”

You had an inkling that Jamil may have gotten attached to you, may have gotten used to having your constant presence by his side. That’s why he feels so comfortable around you now — at least, enough to make jokes and tease you when he could.

It never occurred to you that he may want to keep you by his side when you’re not able to do so. Not until now.

“I wish…”

You hold your breath as you wait for Jamil to continue his sentence. You know that once he makes his third and final wish, you’ll immediately and completely disappear from his life.

Perhaps, it is for the better that he’ll have no recollection of you besides as a star in the sky.

“I wish I could continue to feel this way. I wish, among all the stress and madness, I’ll also have the time to be free and enjoy life,” Jamil laughs at himself, finding himself silly for saying the words out loud. He turns to you with a soft smile on his face, “can you make that happen? It’s a pretty tall order.”

You nod slowly, refusing to look at the man as you mumble, “as you wish.”

With those words, your body begins to emit a gentle white glow.

At first, Jamil thinks it’s a reaction of you granting his wish. But as your body becomes more and more transparent, the panic settles more and more inside his heart.

“Y/n?” Jamil calls out, his voice shaky as he reaches out to cup your cheek. His hand passes through your disappearing body, causing him to panic even more and the volume of his voice rising as he calls out for you again. “Y/n!”

A final burst of bright white light makes Jamil shut his eyes tightly and shield them with his hands. Just as quickly as the light came, he finds himself surrounded by darkness and quiet once again.

When Jamil finally opens his eyes, he finds himself lying down in the backseat of Ace’s car. He groans, carefully getting up without moving Lilia’s sleeping figure too much.

He rests his friend’s head on his shoulder after he sits up and looks out the car window, “where are we?”

“Oh, you’re up?” Ace replies as he glances up at the rear-view mirror to look at Jamil’s dark silhouette.

“Yeah, I had the strangest dream: I was in Paris.”

“You must have been hanging out with some mimes because you were laughing a lot in your sleep.”

“Was I?” Jamil raises an eyebrow skeptically. “I can’t even remember what the dream was about anymore. All I remember is standing on top of the Eiffel Tower.”

“Well, don’t go back to sleep because we’re about half an hour away from the dorm now.”

“Sure,” Jamil adjusts his position so he can prop his elbow and chin up on an arm rest.

He watches as they drive past a handful of traffic lights and countless street lights, a strange feeling of being out of place poking at him.

But he pushes the feeling away for the remainder of the drive back to the dorms. He continues to push it away when he sinks into his dorm bed in exhaustion 30 minutes later and dreams of seeing Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

The next morning, Jamil wakes up to about a dozen emails that all include some sort of revision to the class syllabi.

“What in the world?” Jamil asks, his voice groggy from sleep and his eyes blinking against the bright light of his phone screen.

Once his eyes have adjusted, Jamil scrolls through the emails before logging into every student portal available to him. He double, triple, and quadruple-checks every platform to make sure his professors weren’t simply playing a trick on him.

“Good morning, Jamil!” a familiar voice gleefully calls out.

Light pours into the room as the door is opened by none other than a smiling Ace. His cheerful demeanor further confirms that Jamil wasn’t simply imagining the emails.

“Did you hear the good news yet?” Ace ignores the protests of Jamil’s roommate as he prances into the room and plops down on the edge of his friend’s bed. He doesn’t wait for Jamil to answer before he continues talking, “now we have all this free time outside of getting our major projects done. What are we gonna do with ourselves?”

Despite still being half-asleep, Jamil can’t deny that he’s also filled with delight at the unexpected news. His mind is already going through all the things he’s been holding off on doing — but he can’t seem to wave off a major sense of déjà vu as he does so.

“Oh, wait. How about we finally teach you how to roller skate?” Ace pats Jamil’s shoulder to catch his attention.

“No offense, Ace, but you’re way too energetic in the morning,” Jamil groans and pulls his blanket up to his chin. He squints at Ace’s unwavering grin for a few silent seconds before he finally sighs and rolls his eyes. “Okay, I’m in.”

“That’s the spirit! I’ll let the guys know,” Ace silently cheers, saving Jamil’s roommate from the unwelcomed noise before he saunters out just as quickly as he came in.

On a normal day, even if Jamil said that he was in, he still wouldn’t have enough free time to actually learn anything besides the basics — if that.

So it’s a nice change of pace when, less than an hour later, he meets his friends besides the same stretch of pavement as where you granted him his first wish.

He doesn’t remember those events in detail, only as fleeting events of a strange dream, and dismisses his sense of déjà vu as having been at this spot many times before.

“You still remember the basics, right?” his friend Kalim asks as he holds his arms out towards Jamil.

Jamil gratefully grabs onto the long limbs for support as he slowly gets up, his legs wobbling while he tries to balance himself on the roller skates.

“Have you been practicing without us?” Lilia asks with his gaze fixed on Jamil’s legs.

It’s a harmless question that’s only asked because Jamil’s not very big on balance. No, usually he and Kalim would have to keep a close eye on their friend to make sure his legs aren’t floundering like fish on dry land.

But today, Jamil seems stable on his own, and they step back and watch in surprise as Jamil glides freely without them.

“Oh, Ace’s not going to believe this,” Lilia laughs before dragging Jamil’s backpack to his side and rummaging through the pockets for his phone.

Lilia unlocks the phone with every intent to take a video of Jamil acing the Basics of Roller Skating 101. But a recent picture displayed on the lower left hand corner of the Camera app catches his attention.

“Jamil, do you have a partner? They’re cute,” Lilia comments after he’s clicked on the display and enlarges the photograph. “I mean, thanks a lot for not telling us though.”

“What? Where? Who?” Kalim quickly appears behind Lilia to peer over the shorter man’s shoulder.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. When do I have the time for a partner?” Jamil furrows his eyebrows in confusion as he makes his way over to his huddled up friends.

Kalim and Lilia exchange looks of disbelief before Lilia holds the phone out so Jamil could look at what’s displayed on the screen.

His breath hitches when he sees a picture of you.

They’re the same photographs that you didn’t know he’d taken of you. They’re proof that you were real — and you existed in this world briefly although Jamil has no recollection of who you are.

And if you’d known those pictures existed, they’d have been erased from Jamil’s memory just like everything else had been.

“I… I have no idea who this is,” Jamil says unconvincingly as he takes his phone away from Lilia.

He can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the still of your face. The bright smile you’ve always graced him with is permanently captured within a photograph of a J. Doe.

Jamil can’t remember meeting someone with your face. He certainly doesn’t remember your name or why he would have your picture on his phone.

But the longer he stares at the pictures, the farther the warmth igniting in his chest spreads throughout his body.

A single, short thought enters his mind.

Thank you.

And although he doesn’t know why he thought that, he has the sneaking suspicion it has something to do with the person in the photographs.

[idiotlovesongs]

The Letters pt. 3

Dear Will,

This week was our first week of high school without you. El told me that you guys started last week. She said things were going well. I’m happy she’s made friends. Have you? I know you said you didn’t want to play D&D without me us, but don’t make yourself miserable. You can join another party if you change your mind. 

Does Lenora’s high school suck as much as Hawkins’? Hawkins’ high school isn’t much different from middle school. It’s all the same faces. People are ignoring us for the most part now, which is nice I guess.

I kept turning around expecting you to be there. It’s different from when you disappeared. Before, I could at least see you in the halls. I could remember your old routes to class, where we would eat lunch, and where we would hang out afterward. Now, you’re not here at all. There’s no trace of you. 

My classes are fine. They seem easy enough. Definitely, no one like Ms. Lorn. Do you remember all the shit she put us through? We were in middle school for fucks sake. Why did she think an essay every Friday was okay? I think I would have to drop out if she followed me here. Especially now that I don’t have you to help me get through her class.

They have a writing club here that I’m not sure about joining. I’ve only seen girls interested in it. It would be kind of weird if I was the only guy there, right?  And El probably wouldn’t like it. I mean, what kind of girl would like her boyfriend surrounded by other girls. It would be cool to start writing like that again though. Maybe I will join.

Lucas is trying out for the basketball team. I don’t know enough about basketball to tell you whether he’s going to make it, but I hope he does. He’s not taking his breakup with Max super well. He gets that she needs space, but he really misses her. Lucas says he’s fine just being friends with her, but I’m not sure he means it. I think he’s just taking what he can get for now.

I miss her too, surprisingly. Never realized how much we talked until we stopped. I’m kind of worried about her. She doesn’t want to hang out with us and got angry when we tried to visit her. It seems like she doesn’t leave her place much. We only see her at school. I’d try talking to her, but I’d rather not get chewed out in public. She’s seriously harsh.

Dustin’s fine I think. He only ever talks about Suzie these days. If this is how annoying I was when El and I got together, I’m so fucking sorry. At least I never called El Elliepoo (I think I just threw up in my mouth at the thought). They seem happy. I’m just glad Suzie is a real person. Can you imagine how awkward it would be if she wasn’t? Not that I don’t have faith in Dustin’s ability to get a girl. She’s kind of demanding. I’m sure you could imagine considering Dustin had to sing to her for her to save the fucking world. Seriously, they were singing while we were trying to escape the you-know-what? 

Sorry. You probably don’t want to think about that. I mean, that’s why you guys left, right? It’s a little hard not to think about it here. It feels like Dustin and Lucas could move on so much easier. Max and I Max is taking it harder because of her brother, obviously. Nancy is busy with college stuff. I think that’s how she’s getting through this. She just buries herself in work. Is Jonathan doing any better? Nancy doesn’t really talk about him that much anymore. Not that she talked about him a lot before, but it feels kind of different. Don’t tell Jonathan I said that.

Are you doing any better? We don’t have to talk about this stuff.

I’ll see you guys this Thanksgiving. Isn’t that cool? It sucks that you guys won’t be able to be here this Christmas. Guess I’ll just have to buy your guys' presents really early and bring them when I come. Promise you won’t open them before it’s time? It’s only fair that way. I heard California doesn’t really get snow. Won’t it be weird to not have snow for Christmas? Maybe I’ll send you some to spread the Christmas joy. 

Is California cool at least? I heard it was more accepting. Lots of different people, you know? Have you met anyone cooler than us yet? No, right? For my sake, just say no. You can hang out with all your rad art friends after lying to me. 

Is Ms. Byers letting you leave the house alone again? You haven’t had any more visions and you’re out of Hawkins so there’s no reason for her not to. Find some cool spots so you can show me them when I visit.

I guess I’ll leave you to whatever you were doing before. See you in November.

Sincerely, Love, Your friend, From, Mike

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 4, pt. 5

[fifteenleads]

Alliance in Pink

Based on the FF16 German VAs' Barbie skit.

-

Clive knew he had much better things to do than this.

No, really, he did. It’s just that his brother rarely told him anything about himself these days that Clive had to take it upon himself to find out if he should have anything to worry about. Because the last time Joshua came home to visit, he brought a girlfriend.  

Or at least, that’s what their mother assumed. Wouldn’t let the poor boy get a word in as she lectured him endlessly about not whiling away his college days because life was already hard enough as it was, and his transcript needed to be perfect if he wanted to land a lucrative career. Never mind that her older son already failed her on that aspect—not that she ever had any high expectations of Clive to begin with, but Joshua was different.

Jote was just a friend, Joshua had insisted. Someone he had shared some classes at college with. Nothing more than that. The insistent way he had made his point, however, made Clive all the more suspicious.

Which led to today—Joshua and his “friend” going out early to catch an afternoon movie, and Clive discreetly tailing them. Well, as discreetly as he could, of course, because his figure didn’t exactly scream discreet, what with his imposing figure and his “prominent pecs,” as Gav called them. He even shaved and bought a new polo shirt for the occasion.

Even Jill thought this was a bad idea, and she was usually supportive of him and his dumb antics. Well, too late for that now.

Clive hid behind one of the electronic displays as he watched Joshua and Jote buy their tickets, following the two with his gaze until they entered their designated theater. “Cinema 1,” he took note as he came out of hiding and lined up at the counter. All he had to do now was get a seat with a good vantage point of the two, and his job was (mostly) done. Joshua said he’d be home by five, after all, which would be around the time the movie ended.

He finally reached the front of the ticket booth. “Let’s see, Cinema 1… Miss, I’d like one ticket to whatever’s playing there, please.”

The girl took one look at him and continued chewing her gum. “You sure, Mister? Wouldn’t expect a hunk like you to watch Barbee, but okay.”

“Barbee?! Wait, I didn’t—”

“Are you buying or not? I don’t got all day, Mister.”

“I—” If this was Clive’s punishment for committing the sin of stalking his own brother (for pure purposes, he swore), then he… had no choice but to accept it willingly. He was already too far in the game to back out, after all. A small part of him wished he had listened to Jill, but there’s no point in regretting that anymore.

But the more important mission of finding out about Joshua and Jote was way more important than his silly pride! Clive’s conscience couldn’t let him watch his brother fall from grace before their mother. (He was overreacting, of course.) A certain manga he had read had the older brother main character do all sorts of shady things just to protect his twin sister, and he was called a siscon for it. Hell if he didn’t understand how that��felt now.

To hell with it. Swallow his pride it is, then. “Yes. One ticket to—”

“—Barbee, please. And make that two.”

Clive yelped at the unexpected interruption, instantly turning to the source of the voice. Dion Lesage nodded at him amusedly, then smoothly handed over his card to the ticket girl, who immediately swooned as she swiped it and printed their tickets. “T-Thank you, sirs. Enjoy your show.”

He was still dumbstruck when Dion gently pulled him along away from the booth. What in the Founder’s name was Joshua’s other friend doing here? (He’d also denied any romantic attraction towards Dion exactly the way he did towards Jote now, so maybe Clive was right to be suspicious, after all.) “I’ve been watching the three of you since half an hour ago, and I must say your tailing skills still leave a lot to be desired,” Dion remarked dryly, handing Clive a pair of thick glasses. “Non-prescription. They’re Terence’s. Don’t break them.”

Clive looked around him, and spied Dion’s boyfriend seated on one of the benches. He looked up from whatever he was reading and waved. Clive sighed. “So I was too conspicuous, huh.”

“Very much so, I’m afraid. Now let’s get popcorn before they close the doors on us. You also owe me dinner after this.”

“I didn’t ask—” Clive started, but was silenced at once by Dion’s withering glare. “Fine. Two buckets of salted caramel popcorn, plus dinner. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Dion finally smirked, satisfied with his win. “In exchange, I’ll teach you how to tail people without getting spotted. You’ll be getting your money’s worth, I assure you.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Clive huffed to himself, shaking his head at the unexpected turn of events. Perhaps this was for the best, though. This… alliance, if he could call it that, certainly had its merits, and he felt he was going to come out of it a better man. Probably, if Jill and Gav didn’t find out about today, of course.

[the-tangle-web]

You Deserve Better.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Stark shouted. A hiss followed.

Stark left through the open door, storming out, rubbing his wrist, “Fine! Fine! I’m leaving!” His wrist was bruised black and purple as the man muttered in pain.

Bruce was leaning against a table, taking a slow sip from his coffee mug, watching the millionaire storm off. He let out a short scoff and shook his head, brows furrowed.

—

How was it Anthony’s fault? He was just trying to do his homework in the meeting room before Stark came striding in and trying to give him a pep talk on becoming a fully fledged Avenger on one condition, he takes classes lead by Bruce Banner on anger management. Like that was going to fucking work. It’s like Stark thinks he trying to join the Avengers, how delusional can he get?!

Of course, the only way for Anthony to give him a hint was to grip at his wrist, threaten to bite him and break the meeting table for the eighth time. How much more will he have to do to get some alone time to do homework.

He half assed most of it, tried on some, and called it a day. From there, he curled himself on the couch, tucking his knees under his chin and scrolling through his phone. However, he wasn’t alone. The TV was playing in the background and on the same couch was someone he knew pretty well.

Jennifer Walters is Bruce Banner’s cousin. She’s a lawyer and even had to represent him once at Nick Fury’s request. She was pissed off at him at first, reasonably so, he didn’t like her that much either, but after awhile she started to catch on that Anthony hasn’t been given the resources he should be given. She visits often because Bruce is her cousin and well, the TV is lit. Anthony didn’t mind her. If anything, he trusted her way more than anyone else in this tower. How do you explain it… she’s like that cool aunt that lets you eat as much candy as you want when your parents are away.

Jennifer didn’t mind Anthony either. All she saw was some troubled kid who needs therapy but can’t receive it because of some stupid ass guy in an eye patch and an annoying millionaire set on trying to “fix” him. She herself had trouble with her powers, still does. Though it’s not the same, she can sympathize with being given something you didn’t want. Jen was sitting on the couch, criss cross apple sauce, in her lap was a small bowl of M&M’s as she watched some random show on TV. It was comfortable silence, the two didn’t bother each other much. Though, there are some days when Anthony knows when Jen is in the building and activity wanders to find her and just sit in the same room as her. She doesn’t ask questions unless he speaks first and well- just lets him stay.

It’s nice. Anthony liked her, she understood, somewhat. Everyone else was to quick to talk, she wasn’t.

The teen thought for a moment, staring blankly at his phone. Then, he took a short breath and spoke, still staring at his phone, “How’ve you been- after- well… everything,”

Jen’s chewing slowed as she thought, brows furrowed. Her lips scrunched up and lifted to the side. She swallowed before answering, “Well, Todd is in jail-“

“Thank fucking god-“

“I got my job back-“

“As you should-“

“Aaaaaand Luke is my tailor again, by the way and no more creepy guys-“ she said with an eye roll, shoving some more chocolate into her mouth.

Anthony hummed, reaching into the bowl to steal some m&m’s to eat. Jen, whilst still looking at the TV, pulled down the arm rest on the couch and set the bowl of chocolate onto it in between the two of them. The teen leaned on the armrest, finding himself looking up and watching what the other was watching. He titled his head,

“What show is this?”

Jen hummed, glancing over at him and waving a finger, using her other hand to shove more chocolate into her mouth before chewing, swallowing, and answering, “Great British Bake Off,” she said, “good shit,”

Anthony faked a scowl, earning a snirk from the other,

Jen rolled her eyes, “Cmon, it’s fun! I know you like this show,”

The teen scoffed, “You’ll never find me alone watching this shit,”

The other rolled her eyes and shrugged, “Whatever you say,”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Anthony looking down at his lap for a short while. He thought…

“I’m glad you’re safe,” he muttered, “you deserve better,”

Jen looked over to him, her face solemn. She pursed her lips into a smile. She nudged the teen with her elbow, making him look up to catch her gaze,

“You do too.”

[brainfuzzz]

A Happier Life Ch. 3 "A Day In The Life"

This is a fic where Luffy is 7 and living with Crocodile in Alabasta. Baroque Works knows that Crocodile is the boss and so does everyone else. Crocodile struggles to be a villain while raising a goodhearted Luffy and being involved with a Revolutionary. This fic is for my pure enjoyment of crocomom and wanting to create a much happier timeline. Some chapters will have more plot than others. Some chapters will only exist for fluff or very mild smut. I never go to graphic but who knows. All straw hat ages are younger and based around Luffy's except for Robin who I made 14 and Franky 16. Brook stays the same along with Jinbei. Most backstories will be rewritten to make them happier with some exceptions. Oh, and Crocodile is Whitebeard's son.

NSFW Chapter

            Bacon accompanied by a sweet syrupy scent hangs in the air lulling Crocodile out of his sleep. He first instinctively reaches for Luffy to pull him close. When his hand finds nothing but the empty bed, he jolts awake. He sits up, eyes scanning the room for his son. Then he hears his laugh coming from the kitchen accompanied by the sounds of dishes clanking together. Then a deeper laugh of a man followed by Robin’s voice. Crocodile’s shoulders relax as he lets out a relieved breath. He slowly slides out from under the sheets and covers himself with a silk navy blue robe.

            When he steps out of his room, he finds Luffy sitting at the head of the table, bouncing up and down in excitement for breakfast. Crocodile smiles at the sight of Luffy’s bright face. Robin sits next to him sipping her cup of coffee with a book opened in front of her. Then Dragon steps up to the table and slides a tall stack of pancakes towards their son.

            “There you go. My famous chocolate strawberry pancakes!” He’s wearing an apron that is covered in flour and wet doughy stains. When Crocodile walks further into the large room that doubles as the living room and kitchen, he discovers the kitchen counters piling with dishes.

            “Famous huh? Then why haven’t I heard of them?” Crocodile asks while approaching the espresso machine.

            “Because it’s a big revolutionary secret.” He lifts a finger to his lips and gives Luffy a wink. Crocodile finishes making his coffee and leans against the kitchen island. Dragon walks over and does the same across from him, their faces inches apart. They lean in and share a short kiss. When they part, Crocodile wants to pull him back in and devour him right here and now. But he doesn’t. Not with Robin and Luffy only a few feet away. Crocodile tilts his head to peer over Dragon’s shoulder to see Luffy staring at them as he chews a mouth full of pancakes. Crocodile pushes himself away from the island and crosses over to sit next to him.

            “You didn’t wake me when you got up.” He says while reaching out to tap the top of his straw hat.

            Luffy swallows his massive bite and grins, “Dad told me not to. Said he wanted to surprise you.”

            Crocodile glances back at Dragon who shrugs and says, “Turned out that I had a few free days to spare and decided to pop by for a surprise. Plus, I feel bad about yesterday.”

            Crocodile leans back in his chair and sips his coffee before saying, “Good.”

            Robin gives a soft giggle from behind her book. When the clock strikes 8, she slowly closes the book and reaches for her bag propped against her chair.

            “Are you going to school?” Luffy asks with a full mouth.

            Robin nods, “Yeah, Mrs. Mayweather should be here soon. I’m going to head up. When I’m finished, I’ll report to your office.”

            “That’s fine.” Crocodile nods as she starts for the door. When Crocodile recruited Robin, he made sure that she would be able to continue her studies. But because of her infamous past and large bounty he can’t just send her off to school. So, he hired a private tutor to come and give her lessons during the day. They have classes in a spare room above the casino. Sometimes Miss Goldenweek will join her when she’s not on assignment. She mostly learns from Mr. 3 and so far, doesn’t seem to be falling behind.

            Luffy stabs at the remaining pile of pancakes and pouts his lips, “I don’t have to go to school today, do I?”

            “I thought you liked school?” Crocodile arches a brow from over his coffee. Dragon gives a soft laugh and joins them. He slides a small stack of pancakes in front of Crocodile. Luffy blows out a puff of air.

            “I like hanging out with my friends, but I don’t like sitting still that long. Mr. Gonzo is boring!” He angrily stuffs his mouth with pancakes. Crocodile has to hold his tongue. Had he had it his way, Luffy would be taking classes with Robin upstairs, safe, and under his roof. But Luffy quickly learned that other children get to go to school together and then demanded that he be allowed to attend as well. It was possibly one of the most heated arguments he’s ever had with a 7 year old. In the end, Luffy had won.

            “Well, don’t worry.” Crocodile sighs at last. “You’ll get to spend the day with us. But you will go tomorrow, understand?”

            “Okay!” Luffy flashes another wide grin and finishes off the last of his pancakes. Crocodile makes him go wash up after he somehow managed to get syrup all over himself. Crocodile sighs and sets his coffee cup down to take a bite out of the pancakes Dragon had prepared. Before he can take the first bite, Dragon slides his hand over Crocodile’s thigh. Crocodile eyes him suspiciously. Dragon props his chin in his other hand with mischievous a grin splayed across his face.

            “Our child is in the next room.” Crocodile warns, taking his first bite of breakfast.

            Dragon gives a slight shrug. Then he looks down and softly asks, “How long has it been?”

            Crocodile sets his fork down. It’s been too long. With Crocodile busy with Baroque Works and Dragon busy with the revolution, they hardly find time to be together. And the few times they are, its usually spending family time with Luffy and Robin. Not much of it can be spent alone together. The heat rushing to Crocodile’s groin is evidence enough that they desperately need to lock themselves in the bedroom. Dragon’s hand slides even higher and squeezes, sending a jolt of pleasure. With the only thing between his hand and Crocodile’s thigh being silk, his heat sends a tingle up Crocodile’s spine. Crocodile turns to face Dragon, his heart racing as he succumbs to the overwhelming urge to have this man, right now. They lean in, hands reaching out for the other and…

            “I’m done!” Luffy announces as he reenters the room. In an instant, Crocodile and Dragon part. Crocodile stabs at his pancakes with the clear of his throat as Dragon looks away, suddenly enthralled with the crown molding while trying to discreetly adjust his pants. Luffy looks between them and says, “What’s wrong with you two?”

            “Nothing, nothing at all.” Crocodile smiles and stands, abandoning his pancakes. He walks over and kneels down to give Luffy’s cheek a kiss. “I need to get to work. Think you can look after dad for me?”

            “Yeah, no problem.” He says nonchalantly. Crocodile smiles and gets to his feet. He gives Dragon a more apologetic smile and turns for the bedroom to get dressed for the day.

            Crocodile distracts his thoughts with work. There’s not a day that goes by that he isn’t completely swamped. Sometimes people forget that he’s not only running an elaborate bounty hunter company but also a casino that acts as a hotel and restaurant. There’s always a fire to be put out or some crisis that he needs to handle personally. He delegates as much as he can but its never enough. And on top of all of that, he’s a warlord and has duties to uphold with the World Government.

            He sits at his desk, tapping his pen to a sheet of paper he’s been trying to read for the past five minutes but can’t seem to focus long enough to get past the first sentence. He’s staring at his clock but he’s thinking of dates. He’ll have to report to headquarters soon for a warlord meeting. They’re usually pointless. Warlords have no interest in Navy affairs, but they’ll do what they must to keep their title. Truthfully, Crocodile doesn’t mind them. They can be inconvenient because he’s almost always in the middle of something, but it is a nice escape. Sometimes. Other times it just adds to his problems. He rubs his eyes when the image of Doflamingo flashes across his mind and suddenly he has a headache.

            He pauses when a tiny hand lifts from the front of his desk with a tiny wooden toy ship in hand. Luffy bounces it in the air as if sailing on waves.

            “Hello Mary, where are you off to?” Crocodile props his chin in his hand. Luffy’s head pops up and smiles.

            “We’re off to find our crew!” Luffy announces.

            “I thought you already found your crew?” Crocodile realizes he won’t be reading this report anytime soon and places the sheet of paper back into the pile.

            Luffy frowns while fidgeting with his toy ship, “None of my friends want to become pirates.”

            “What about Vivi?” Crocodile rolls his chair out from behind his desk and lets Luffy walk around and climb into his lap. Crocodile gently lifts his hat off Luffy’s head and places it on his desk. “I thought Vivi wanted to join your crew?”

            Luffy shakes his head, his fingers still turning the toy around, tracing the lines of the bow, “Sometimes she does and sometimes she doesn’t.”

            Crocodile kisses the top of his head, lingering just long enough to take in his scent. He doesn’t know if it’s a maternal parent thing, but he always feels a deep sense of calm whenever he catches Luffy’s scent. It was worse when he was a baby.

Crocodile tilts his head so he can see more of Luffy’s face, “Don’t worry. You’ll find your crew. They’re out there somewhere just waiting for their captain to find them.”

            Luffy looks up at him and flashes his signature grin and says, “Yeah!”

            The door at the top of the long stairs leading to the casino opens as Mr. 2 steps inside. Luffy wiggles in Crocodile’s lap until he’s hopped off and is running towards the stairs shouting, “Bon!”

            “My, if it isn’t Straw Boy.” Mr. 2 puts his hands on his hips with a grin.

Luffy scrunches his face up. “I told you I don’t like that nickname! It’s not cool enough.”

“To bad, so sad.” Mr. 2 shrugs. He approaches Crocodile’s desk while Luffy tries to climb up his legs. “Boss, I am happy to report that the mission went off without a hitch! But was there ever any doubt?”

“Good job,” Crocodile begins riffling through his papers trying to find the one pertaining to Bon Clay’s current assignment. When he finds it, he hands it to him. Mr. 2 takes the papers and crosses over to the long table that they use for meetings to fill out his portion of the report. Crocodile forces himself to return to the paper he had been trying to get through earlier. With both adults consumed with paperwork, Luffy sprawls out on the floor and stares up at the ceiling.

“I’m so bored I’m going to die.” he announces.

“Simply tragic.” Crocodile says while filling out the bottom of the form.

“Always with the dramatics.” Mr. 2 hums. Luffy lets out a huff.

“What’s your father doing?” Crocodile asks when he’s finally finished with the paper. Luffy rolls his head so he’s looking at him.

“He got a call from work and told me to come in here with you.” He explains before rolling his head back so he’s once again staring at the ceiling. Crocodile frowns.

“Bon Clay, do you mind watching Luffy for me?” Crocodile gets to his feet.

“With pleasure.” Mr. 2 smiles over his report. Crocodile leaves Luffy in his care and enters their living quarters. He can hear Dragon’s voice coming from the bedroom. When he enters the room, he finds Dragon sitting on the edge of the bed speaking into a transponder snail. When he notices Crocodile, he gives an apologetic look before nodding and responding to the person on the other side. Crocodile crosses his arms not sure of what to do. On one hand he wants to make Dragon hang up the receiver and go back to spend time with their son. On the other hand, he understands that some things need his attention for things to run properly. Especially when lives are on the line. Needless to say, neither of them has quite found that perfect work life balance.

Then he realizes something and comes up with an evil plan. He quietly shuts the bedroom door and locks it. He peeks over his shoulder to see if Dragon heard the lock, but he’s fully engrossed in what the other man is saying. Crocodile slowly crosses the room and enters the closet. He first removes his hook and then begins to undress. He pauses in front of the closet door. For some reason, he’s starting to get nervous. He banishes the feeling and forces the door open.

Dragon freezes, his eyes wide. Crocodile leans against the doorway, completely naked. He gives a grin that makes Dragon swallow.

“I need to call you back.” Dragon hangs up the receiver before the other person can protest. Crocodile starts to approach Dragon but is intercepted halfway. They kiss, hungry and desperate for the other. Crocodile is pulling his clothes off, not caring if anything gets torn. They stumble back and fall on the floor but make no attempt to stop. Dragon manages to grab onto the sheets on the bed and pull them down, so they aren’t rolling around on the cold tile. Dragon rolls Crocodile over so that he’s on his back and starts kissing his neck. With one hand sliding up Crocodile’s leg, hitching it over his hip, the other slips between Crocodile’s legs. Crocodile lets out a low satisfying moan, his legs opening seemingly on their own, inviting Dragon in. Crocodile reaches for his bedside table. He struggles to open the drawer, causing his book to topple over the side before eventually yanking the entire drawer out to get the bottle of lubricant.

When they were younger, they could have gone all night long. But now? Now they’re lucky if they can do it multiple times in one night. He’s not sure how long this round lasted, but he knows it can’t have been long. Not when they were both pent up, desperate for the others touch. Dragon’s head rests against Crocodile’s chest as Crocodile’s body continues to tremble. Dragon eases out and rolls so that he’s lying next to Crocodile. They say nothing for a moment, the only sounds are of them trying to catch their breaths.

Dragon gives a soft laugh, “You should interrupt my work calls more often.”

Crocodile swallows and runs a hand over his sweaty forehead, “Sure, I’ll just pop into your headquarters naked from time to time. I’m sure no one will mind.”

“I won’t.” Dragon rolls onto his side and props his head on his hand. His other hand lazily trails the lines on Crocodile’s chest. Crocodile tilts his head at him and leans forward to give him a kiss.

“I should get back. I don’t like leaving Luffy alone with Bon Clay for this long.” Crocodile says reluctantly. Dragon rolls on his back with a sigh.

“I should really call them back. It was important.” He rubs his face tiredly. Crocodile gets up first, cursing when he realizes how weak in the knees he is. He manages to slip into the bathroom and clean up quickly. When he steps out of the bathroom, Dragon is waiting and smacks his ass when he starts towards the closet. Crocodile gives him a look but grins when he turns away.

Once he and Dragon are decent once more, Dragon returns to his call and Crocodile leaves to look for their son. Crocodile still fiddles with his neck scarf—struggling to get it to fold correctly—when he steps into his office. He stops dead in his tracks. Bon Clay and Luffy hold pens in their hands having a pretend sword fight. Bon Clay does a ballerina move prompting Luffy to kick his leg. Except Luffy is now rubber, so his leg accidently stretches too far and knocks into Crocodile’s desk. He hits it so hard that it causes all his papers to scatter on the floor. Crocodile stares at the mess and then at Luffy and Bon Clay.

“He did it!” they both say while pointing at the other. Crocodile sighs and realizes he’s not going to be getting much work done today after all.

Read full story HERE on AO3!!!

[schrijverr]

Life Is Ours, We Live It Our Way 18

Chapter 18 out of 18

Genderqueer Stevie with platonic soulmates Robin and Eddie living their best queer life.

In this chapter, it is ‘93 and follow a day in the life of Stevie, Eddie and Robin, who now live in the big city, all grown up and settled in.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue

Stevie is rushing around their apartment, trying to get everything so that she can hurry to class. Yes, he is going to college, something he never would have thought when he graduated or continued on into his adult life.

However, it is currently ‘93 and the time away has been good for her. In her time away, she has fully grown into herself. The label of genderqueer has been going around in queer circles and he has wholeheartedly embraced it.

Furthermore, she has stopped caring about what others think of him. He dresses how he wants and doesn’t mind that she’s older than her peers, not to mention happy that she is no longer the center of attention, like he was in high school.

Not that he’s lonely or an outcast at college, not at all. Actually, he realized how the party must have formed as he got settled, because she has amassed other outcasts during his time on campus so far. People who are different like her, who see that he doesn’t fit fully and is okay with that. People who cling to her like he clung to Madame Tucker and Robbie and Eds.

It’s odd, but nice to be that for people now. And also exactly why she wants to become a guidance counselor. He likes the idea of being able to help others like he wished he was helped, how Max got to be helped.

So, yeah, Stevie is studying again.

Robin has already graduated, so she’s working full-time like Stevie did when she went to college to pay their bills with Eddie.

She has been coming home to them for the past four years, having moved out here to reunite with Robin alongside Eddie in ‘89 when Dustin had figured out why Eddie and Stevie were still hanging around Hawkins, even though they clearly missed her and the group came together to threaten them with all of them purposefully failing Senior year if they didn’t start house hunting.

He still contributes to their bills, working as Princess Dingus in the club if she manages to land a gig, where he has most of his social life outside of college. Madame Tucker is still fully in business and her favorite host to work with.

None of his other friends will ever be the party, nor will they ever come close to what Eddie and Robin are to him. But they come to her shows in the clubs. The shows that make her wake up late and have to rush through the morning to get to classes on time.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Stevie asks Eddie, who is drinking coffee in the kitchen while Stevie shoves her notebook and a few pens into her backpack.

“I did. You told me you’d get up,” Eddie says. “I thought you were getting dressed.”

“I obviously wasn’t,” Stevie tells him, snatching an apple of the counter, careful not to tip over Eddie’s stack of notebooks that resides there.

“That’s true,” Robin butts in from her breakfast. “This happens every Monday morning. And Fridays. But you’re better on Fridays.”

“I only have afternoon classes on Fridays,” Stevie replies while chewing a bite of his apple. “And I hate you both for not waking me.”

“We packed you lunch,” Eddie offers the tupperware Stevie always takes with him.

“I added a chocolate bar,” Robin says proudly.

“I take it back, I love you both,” Stevie tells them gratefully, shoving the tupperware into her bag and kissing both Robin and Eddie on their cheek.

“Have a good day!”

“Good day!”

“Bye,” Stevie yells back, rushing out the door, glad he kept up the running after he moved away from Lucas, who had been his main motivator.

She comes falling into the right classroom a minute late, dressed in light wash, high-waist jeans and a pink sweater, her hair up in a ponytail. He awkwardly sends the lecturer an apologetic smile as she slides into the first row.

Luckily this happens every week, so the man is used to it. However, every time it happens, he can’t help but think of Robin’s confession on that cold floor of a Russian bunker and wonder if someone in that room thinks he’s an asshole for it. At least he ate her apple on the way.

He gets through most of his classes before it’s lunch time. She sits with a few people she befriended and pulls out her lunch.

In it is a note, in Eddie’s handwriting it says ‘Nourish thyself for thou knowledge adventure!’ with a small drawing of Stevie as a wizard holding a book and a chicken leg. Robin has written ‘Eat, you dingus! Love you <3’

Maria leans over when she spots the note and sighs: “That is the cutest shit ever, like that is what everyone wants in life. And you’re not dating either of them.”

“Yeah, they’re the best,” Stevie smiles softly and tucks the note in his pocket to put it with the others in the box in her vanity drawer. “And you’ll find the people that get you, I promise. Just try and do you and they’ll come around.”

“And you’re so nice about it too,” Jonny groans. “You have achieved domestic bliss at 25 and you’re just nice about it. It’s rude.”

Stevie laughs at Jonny’s dramatics and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder as he says: “Don’t worry, these things take time. Not everyone can nearly get murdered together as a speed run bonding experience.”

Jonny peaks up from where he has buried his head in his arms and replies: “You say shit like that and I never know if you’re joking or not.”

“If I told you the government would take me,” Stevie shrugs with a wink, then turns to her lunch and starts eating, not engaging in the topic again.

It’s a little joy to fuck around with what happened – now already – years ago. No one here knows Hawkins, not really. They don’t have pre-formed opinions of her or Eddie or Robin. They are just confused.

Eddie calls it hilarious, Robin worries about the government not agreeing, before giggling and whispering that she told her coworker she used to translate secret coded messages at her previous job.

On the way back home, Stevie swings by the grocery store, mentally planning what he has to do this evening.

He’s the first one home, since the office building Robin works at is quite a drive away and the record store Eddie works at closes later. So, she changes into comfy clothes, then starts preparing dinner, which she can leave on the stove for a bit, before starting on her course work.

Robin comes home first, asking if he’s doing something very important, launching into a tirade about her coworker when the answer is no. Stevie gladly listens to her ramble along, the topic slowly shifting to a cute server at the bar and how Robin wants to make a move, but also doesn’t want to harass her at work.

She’s in the middle of her lament when Eddie comes through the door and snorts: “Is Robs being useless and gay again?” Robin guffaws as Stevie nods. Eddie goes on: “Yeah, she told me this morning. What am I smelling? Is it dinner? Please tell me it’s dinner.”

“It’s dinner,” Stevie laughs. “Nothing difficult, but hearty.”

“I can do hearty,” Eddie says, taking a spoon and tasting a little before groaning: “Hell yeah, this is amazing, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” Stevie replies, before shouting: “Don’t stick that spoon back in there, Eddie! You licked that.”

“What? Do you think I have cooties, princess? You had my tongue in your mouth-”

“Don’t!” Robin whines, covering her ears. “I don’t need to hear about your fucking, please. Also come here, you need to help me with my girl problems.”

Eddie relents the sex-talk, dropping the spoon as he plops down on a chair and lazily grins: “I am literally the worst person to talk with about girl problems, Robbie.”

“You can try to be supportive like dingus here is,” Robin pouts.

“I have literally said nothing since you started on the topic,” Stevie deadpans, making Eddie snort as Robin whines again, restarting another rant.

Both Eddie and Stevie try to give input as they set the table, but it remains a sticky situation. The discussion lasts through dinner with Robin just deciding to wait and hope that the girl will make a move.

When they’ve left the topic behind them, Eddie asks: “Who’s going to Hawkins this spring break? Did we hear back from everyone yet?”

“Will and Mike are coming back to visit Joyce,” Stevie says, holding up his finger as if it will help, before sighing: “I can’t recall the rest, but I wrote it down on the fridge.”

She gets up and goes to the fridge. Her memory is pretty good overall, but she needs to repeat stuff often and if she doesn’t put in the effort, it’s less likely to stick. So, he roots for the note under the mess of polaroids that’s on the fridge, before returning victoriously with it.

Their collection of pictures has only grown over the years, the stack of albums that Robin still diligently updates over on one of the bookshelves.

“Okay, yeah, so Will and Mike are coming back from New York for Joyce, who’s picking them up from the airport. So, we won’t have to deal with the two lovebirds stuck in the car with us,” he starts to read. “Max and El are taking the same flight from Cali, Hopper wanted to pick them up but Lucas might also be doing that.”

“He must have missed Max,” Robin comments. “Long distance is always hard.

Stevie hums in agreement and continues on: “Dustin, uhm, Dustin wasn’t sure yet. Apparently MIT has this project thing that might run over, but he’ll know next week. And Erica is still back in Hawkins of course, taking Senior year like a champ.”

“What did Nancy and Jonathan say?” Robin asks, the only one who doesn’t think in Hawkins equals the kids and therefore remembers to add them into their list.

Stevie would feel worse about it, if contact with the two hadn’t been distant ever since they went off to college.

“Uhm,” Stevie looks at the note again, then shrugs helplessly.

Eddie luckily recalls: “Didn’t Nancy mention wanting to get time off? She and Jonathan are planning a holiday, right?”

“Yeah, but they weren’t sure if they were going to visit Argyle or go back to Hawkins to see everyone again,” Robin says.

“I can’t imagine Jonathan passing an opportunity to see Will again,” Stevie replies.

“So the whole gang will be back together again,” Eddie comments.

“Yeah?” Stevie perks up. “You managed to get the days off?”

Eddie beams and nods: “I’ll be working all the shitty shifts these coming weeks, but spring break is mine.”

“Cheers to that,” Robin grins, lifting her glass in a toast.

“Cheers,” the other two echo.

It’s Robin’s turn to do the dishes, humming softly as to not distract Stevie and Eddie, who are both diligently writing away at the table. Though… Stevie more so than Eddie, who throws his hands up and complains: “I wrote like five pages every day for weeks and now nothing. I know where I want to go, why is nothing happening?”

“Maybe you should let your brain take a break,” Robin shrugs. She’s the one with better advice about this, since she currently works in the publishing industry, albeit in translation.

“I don’t wanna take a break,” Eddie pouts. He’s been writing this book for a while now, Stevie had mentioned in passing how he thought Eddie would be good at it when he was mope-y about missing DnD. Eddie jumped on it with gusto and really wants to publish his fantasy novel.

“Well, your brain doesn’t care about that,” Robin informs him bluntly. “Now go read or play the guitar. You have that gig at the bar next week, remember?”

Eddie groans, but puts the writing away, before going to grab his guitar and plopping down on the couch as he starts to practice one of his songs. As it turns out, it’s easier to find people interested in joining a metal band out here. They’re not breaking through, but Eddie doesn’t mind that much, he likes sharing his songs in dingy bars just as much. Content not to fly across the world and remain in their little bubble.

Robin finishes the dishes and grabs her book, joining Stevie at the table, who has been writing away at her essay. The three falling into a soothing rhythm that has marked their relationship ever since it took off.

Sure, Stevie might struggle sometimes, but she’s putting herself through college and sitting in his living room with his two soulmates, while wearing glasses and an outfit King Steve wouldn't be found dead in, but feeling more comfortable in his skin than he ever thought possible.

And yeah, Robin is still a bit useless in the romance category, but she got out of Hawkins and has a job she enjoys and confidence in who she is.

While Eddie loves his job in the record store, he wants to become a writer. Solely a writer. It won’t be easy but he’s working hard. Not to mention that he can be himself now. That he’s known in the community, not because he was suspected of murder, but because he knows how to fix the AC and indulges the kids that live in their building in their fantasy games while haggard parents run their errands.

Life is good for them. Really good. Better than any of them imagined back when they were a shell without personality, an awkward closet-case and the town freak.

Stevie hears Eddie put the guitar away, before he’s punching in a number. His voice is bright when he greets: “It’s me, your favorite nephew!”

“Oi, what do you mean with that, you old man?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I figured you must be up by now. I thought, I’d check in.”

They devolve into chatter, which is equally welcome as background noise. Stevie loves hearing either one of his soulmate’s happy rambling. And Eddie’s voice when he tells Wayne that they’re coming to visit over the break is very worth it.

The essay isn’t that important, so when Robin snorts, Stevie asks what’s up and she tells him excitedly about the joke in the book, explaining the plot so Stevie can understand why the moment is funny. Before both go back to their task.

“Stevie,” Eddie calls after a second. “Wayne wants to know if you can set your hatred for the Cowboys aside, so you two can watch the game together when we come over?”

“I always want to watch the game with Wayne,” Stevie answers. “You two are terrible.”

“We can’t help that it’s confusing,” Robin complains. “There are all these rules and I can never follow along.”

“And I can’t help that it’s hot sweaty men, who’re distracting,” Eddie adds, while Robin makes fake gagging noises.

Eddie relays: “Wayne says he’s looking forwards to it.”

“Tell him I do too and that I say hi,” Stevie smiles.

“Also say hi from me!” Robin says quickly.

“He says hi back,” Eddie tells them after he told Wayne they said hi, then Eddie asks about the Hawkins gossip while Robin and Stevie turn to their books again.

Before Eddie hangs up, they both take the phone and talk with the man for a little. Wayne remains one of their favorite people and they’ve all grown closer over the years, so they adore it when they get the time to chat with him and catch up. He has become a pillar for them, also taking Will and Mike under his wing when the two came out to everyone as a couple.

However, phone bills are a thing along with the fact that they’re becoming boring adults as the kids would claim. So, after they’ve hung up, the three get ready for bed.

It’s an easy routine. Eddie checks the locks, while Robin pees and Stevie changes, Eddie pees as Robin changes and Stevie turns off the heating, and when Stevie pees, Eddie changes and Robin switches off the lights.

Then they brush their teeth in a little row in the bathroom. It’s stupid, but they all love it. Love how they try to keep up conversations through foamy mouths, trying not to laugh and inhale the toothpaste, making them choke.

With that all done, the three slide into bed. Eddie is still at Stevie’s back, arm slung around her, but Robin is now resting on Stevie’s chest, their hands still intertwined, while Eddie rests his on her waist.

They’re three little puzzle pieces, slotting together and resting peacefully. Nightmares have mostly faded, but the need for comfort and closeness never did. Not that any of them mind.

Yeah, life is good.

When Stevie was living in that big house, trying to be picture perfect to fit into the person his parents could brag about, she never would have imagined she’d end up here. He always thought he’d live his life the way it was expected.

Instead, he found who she wanted to be and the people she wanted to be that person with. He found people he can call in a crisis, who help and want to be helped. People she can look out for, like they do for her. People that fit.

This life is far from anything a Harrington should be. Far from what she should be. But he doesn’t care, it’s his life – their life – and they get to live it how they want to.

There is nothing better than that.

~~

A/N:

I really wanted this to be a single day a few years later, showing that they’re happy and settled and out of that small town none of them fit in. But it’s a little short because of it, hope you still liked it as an ending <33

Also, if you made it to this point (first of thank you so much for sticking this out to the end), but I also want to congratulate you on reading 225 pages of writing with 12 size fond, that’s a lot xp

[ktb-513]

Copper

As soon as I graduated college (and even before), all I wanted to be was a dog mom. When I first moved to Charlotte I signed up to be a Rover dog sitter just to be around dogs, because I knew the time wasn’t right for me to get one of my own. All of my friends had dogs they could take to dog bars, breweries and parks, and I so desperately wanted to be able to do the same thing with a one of my own.

A few months after moving to Charlotte, I signed up to be a foster/adopter through a local Boxer rescue. At the time I didn’t understand why, but it didn’t work out, and I was never matched with anyone.

Almost a year later, in May of 2018, I settled into my new apartment in Huntersville and my life felt more stable than it had since moving to Charlotte. I felt ready.

I found Petfinder.com, a website that lists dogs and cats from different rescues and shelters that were available for adoption. I applied for probably 10 different dogs, none of which worked out for seemingly no reason that I could find.

One day, I was browsing through the site like normal, when I came across a skinny, beautifully colored boxer. I put in an application, met him in person, and took him home 6 days later.

I wish I could say our bond was immediate, but it wasn’t. In all honesty, Copper liked Jake more than me and most days in that first month I thought he hated me. He was reserved and wanted his space, and was not as affectionate as I was to him.

Over time, of course, that all changed. He trusted me more and more each day. When I quit my full time job and was home with him doing graduate work every day, we bonded very quickly. I was able to do more with him in the day, and “more” turned into everything.

He went with me on car rides and walks to Starbucks, and inside any store that was pet friendly (even some that weren’t).

I took him to nursing homes, and an adult day center where he very politely visited with the older adults that admired his beautiful color and gentle demeanor. Copper was a conversation started for residents to reminisce about the pets they once had, and tell me how lucky I was to have him. He was always gentle, but with them, he seemed to understand the importance of being even more tender and patient.

We learned quickly that Copper wasn’t dog friendly, which nixed a lot of the plans I made for us in my head. He couldn’t go to dog parks, or hike on busy trails, or visit breweries with us. We pivoted, though. I found an elementary school playground that was mostly fenced in, and we would take him there to chase the ball and get his zoomies out. We would take him in stores because other dogs wouldn’t be there, and Jake took him disc golfing every chance he could- which was arguably his favorite activity.

Copper wasn’t interested in toys either unless there was food involved. He wasn’t the type of dog that would chew on a bone, or rip apart a plush toy. He was too human for all that stuff. So we pivoted again. I got all too familiar with enrichment activities for dogs, and mastered them. Puzzle toys, lick mats, DIY sniff mats, and anything I could create for him to keep his mind busy, and engaged.

Copper and I spent Thanksgiving of 2018 just the two of us, in Huntersville. I took him for a ride, we walked on the greenway, ran around the school playground, ate dinner and watched a movie. No offense to the humans in my life, but that was my favorite Thanksgiving of all time. It was simple, and wordless, and full of love.

I powered through grad school the rest of that year, and into 2019. In May 2019, on my last day of class an active shooter opened fire in the building next to me. The days following were quiet, as I hadn’t yet started my job and everyone else was at work. It was just me, Copper, and all of my anxious thoughts. He didn’t know it, but he carried me through the aftermath of those days. I felt like I couldn’t be alone, and thank God, I wasn’t. He never left my side, and provided a sweet quiet comfort that only a dog can.

•

When I took a full time job after graduation, Jake started taking him to work at his asphalt plant’s lab every other day. We joked that Copper was in charge of “morale” for the company. People at the plant loved him, and every day he got to walk around off-leash and follow Jake around the plant. He was the happiest boy on those days.

•

In March 2020, with the uncertainty of what Covid-19 would do to my job and to the world, I packed up everything I could fit in my car, and Copper and I went to Mississippi. Copper and I spent that summer painting my parents’ house, going to the beach, missing Jake, chasing ducks (Copper, not me), going on daily walks with my dad, fighting a crab (also just Copper), going on rides in the front seat of my dad’s truck, and virtually anything else he wanted to do. As bad as the circumstances were, he (and my parents) kept me grounded and calm. He gave me purpose when everything around me felt uncertain, and I can never thank him enough for the reassurance he gave me that summer.

•

When I got back to Charlotte in August, Jake (and Copper) proposed. Copper got back into his routine of going to work with Jake on the days I had to go into the office, and he was home with me the rest of the time. We made many more road trips to Mississippi, hiked several mountains and trails that fall, and planned a wedding. There were ups and downs that year, but as with most hard times I went through, he was the positive note that I ended every day on. I felt like I’d known him and had him my whole life. I simply did not remember what life was like before him, and had no interest in remembering or ever finding out.

•

Our wedding was my favorite day for many reasons. But as most things in my life, Copper is at the center of the funniest memories. During our ceremony, he paced throughout the audience, politely greeting everyone up and down the aisles. He bounced behind Jake and I as we walked away from the altar after saying “I do.” He begged for a piece of wedding cake and food from the caterer, and no doubt he scored a bite of each at some point.

He became the collective responsibility of the wedding party and attendees throughout the night. I’m sure several people took it upon themselves to take him outside, and when he wasn’t dancing with us or walking through the crowd of people, he could be found laying next to me on my wedding dress train, or unsupervised riding up and down the elevator. We’re still not sure how he managed that.

•

Shortly after our wedding, life hit me hard and fast as my health rapidly deteriorated and my autoimmune disease spun out of control. Being young and chronically ill is isolating. The world continued to move around me, and people carried on with their activities in the summer and social lives while I stayed on the couch or in bed. For me, time stopped because it had to.

My therapist told me that Copper’s death may hit me particularly hard because as someone with a chronic illness, there are fewer safe spaces for me in the world and fewer people that understand. Copper always understood, though, and he was always a safe space for me. He didn’t whine on particularly bad pain days when I couldn’t take him for long walks, or when we suddenly stopped going on hikes. He just stayed with me. When the world continued to move and I had to stop, he stopped too. He didn’t love me any less when my face swelled from the steroids, or when I couldn’t do anything without an ice pack to my ear. Jake traveled for work so often during those 2 years. And so many nights, it was just me and Copper. Multiple times on those occasions, I explained to him that he was never allowed to die, and that we would simply have to be buried on the same day, because I don’t know how I would survive nights alone without him.

•

When Jake and I started looking into buying a house, our number one criteria was a fenced in backyard for Copper. He had lived in either an apartment or townhouse his entire time with us, and while he never lacked anything, we wanted to give him that. When our house became our worst nightmare, we always found peace in the fact that “at least Copper has a backyard.” He made this wretched house feel like a home.

•

•

When I found out the lump on his jaw, I don’t think the word heart break begins to describe the pain we felt. I felt like my world caved in on itself.

I always knew our time with him was finite, but I never actually willed myself to imagine the end of it. The month following his diagnosis was hard, and simultaneously felt insufferably long but entirely too short. I spent every day after his diagnosis managing his medications, managing the side effects of those medications, listening to his breathing, waking up throughout the night if he breathed funny or rustled even a little.

I struggled to find a way to keep him safe and healthy, but for the first time in his life, I couldn’t do that. There was no amount of vet visits or calls to my mom about symptoms that could stop time or reverse what was coming. We felt so helpless. Every day was suffocating.

The steroids made so many symptoms worse, and the pros did not outweigh the cons. Watching my big, strong, protective dog decline at the rate he did was the greatest heartbreak of my life- up to that point. I told him every day to let me know when he was ready, and I promised I would never let him suffer. People say that dogs often wait to die until they know it’s time. I told him to hold on until my mom came and got to say goodbye, and for me to return from a day trip to Atlanta. And he did exactly that.

Copper passed a month and half after his diagnosis.

•

•

•

Our house doesn’t feel like a home anymore without him. His absence is unbearable, and the silence in my everyday life is deafening. I feel like he took a part of me with him when he left. I don’t yet know what that part was, or when I’ll one day need it and realize it’s gone.

I’ve been without him for 18 days, 432 hours, and 25,920 minutes.

Every day I wake up and wonder what’s going to send me into tears, and what tiny habit I’ll find myself doing just to realize I don’t need to do it anymore. It’s been 18 days since I’ve stroked the white patch of hair in between his eyes, or put hot dogs in his toy, or found any purpose in going on a walk around the neighborhood. This is the longest I have ever been without him.

•

•

I rescued Copper once, but he rescued me hundreds of times. I think I always needed him more than he needed me.

I don’t know if I’ll ever love a dog the way I loved him, but maybe that’s for the best.

•

But I do know now why none of those other dogs worked out for me. He was mine before I knew who he was, and I was meant to be his mom. It was the privilege and joy of my life to take care of him and make him the center of my world.

He taught me how to be patient, and how to be angry at a situation but not him. He taught me that just showing up, and being present means more than the words you can or can’t offer to someone who is hurting or sick. He taught me that the past is an important indicator of the future, but doesn’t define it. He taught me that animals and people who are sometimes hard to love, are still worth loving. He taught me that I was capable of a love so great, it changed my life, and influenced the lives of many others. He taught me that time and persistence can heal wounds, and create space for new things.

He taught me that you can’t buy love, but you can rescue it.