#even the banana guard that has no talents

[noirandchocolate]

In a huge Sooga mood today so here's some random headcanons about my version of that big strong Right Hand (you know, this handsome guy) who I'd never ask for rent to stay in my head:

He loves sweets (it's like his one vice). Big fruit lover even beyond the Yigas' cultural penchant for bananas, and he looooves honey. Fried bananas with honey on them? Oh my god. (Honestly it's a shame chocolate doesn't exist in my Hyrule. He'd be all over that.)

He's a light sleeper when out of the Karusa Complex on missions, always alert to the slightest sounds even when it's not his turn for guard duty. At home, though, he tends to fall dead asleep and be difficult to wake up...before his body just naturally does it at an early hour, exactly when he's supposed to get up and get ready for his first duties of the day. It’s uncanny. A little creepy.

If that linked art didn’t make it obvious, my Sooga’s high split-ponytail is ornamental—part of the Right Hand’s uniform. (That style seems to be based on kabuki theater wigs such as this iconic one for the character Kamakura Gongorō Kagemasu in the play “Shibaraku.”) He usually keeps his actual (4c-textured) hair in short braids ending at the nape of his neck, but he’s been growing it out longer post-AoC events. However keep in mind his face in the linked art isn’t his real one; it’s his standard disguise technique one!

He's half-Sheikah on his father's side and originally lived in Lurelin Village. He hasn't been back since joining the Clan. I'll leave it at that for now. However a less serious headcanon is that one thing he misses from childhood in Lurelin is fresh fish on the daily. His favorite is porgy!

When he first joined the Clan as a child, before he began his serious weapons training in earnest, Sooga's assigned tasks around the Complex often involved working with the Clan's apothecaries to prepare medicines, poisons, spice and herb blends etc. He has a strong interest in plants that earned him chore assignments like that, and also always enjoyed going on missions to Satori Mountain to gather herbs and fruits and veggies as a young teenager. He loves it when the desert has one of its blooming seasons and there are flowers everywhere, and has cacti and succulents he's planted around that he checks on all the time.

Master Kohga’s Right Hand at the time Sooga joined, my OC Chisao, took a shine to Sooga almost immediately and became his mentor when it came time to truly begin his martial training. Now that he himself is Right Hand (Chisao's still alive he just persuaded the Master to let him pass on the role to a younger man), Sooga strives to do Chisao proud when training his own new Blademaster candidates in particular. (However, he does NOT think of Chisao—or anyone else in the Clan for that matter—as an adoptive parent or anything like that. Because of reasons, ie he was and is NOT looking for that in his life.)

Sooga’s currently (post-Calamity) getting lessons in Ancient Sheikah calligraphy from Kohga. He wants to be more artistically cultured in addition to his martial skills, because Kohga is talented with stuff like that and he sees it as a way to be closer with his dear partner. <3

He’s got a dry sense of humor that can get a little morbid. (Think Morticia Addams’s “oh no…he lives” or his own “Your Highness, I bring news. It regards your impending death.”) Absurd circumstances, statements, and actions by others also make him laugh. He’ll usually cover his mouth/the place where his mouth is under his mask while he keeps a lid on his quiet laughter but occasionally something will surprise him into really laughing out loud and it’s kind of adorable.

Most Yiga have a simple, usually small tattoo of the Inverted Eye on them somewhere. Sooga’s is on his left shoulder blade and it’s (unsurprisingly) bigger than average.

His mask got cracked in a fight with a lynel pretty shortly after he became Right Hand and got it. He could have another made no problem, but chooses to keep the broken one "as a reminder that to persevere even in the face of loss may lead to victory, but also that even in victory there may be lasting consequence.”

Okay I'll stop but I just love hiiiiim so muuuuuch~

[meowsielee]

a brief Asha description for my Wish rewrite

i made a bunch of changes to her character and characterization for my rewrite so here's a quick summary of her character.

is it necessary? no

will it be fun for me? yes

Asha is the sixteen year old Princess of Rosas. Born with magical abilities to a peasant family, she was adopted by King Magnifico and Queen Amaya after her parents and grandfather were killed by a mysterious assailant. The King and Queen took interest in her because of her gift of being able to grant anyone’s wishes. However, this was only for their sakes as, in order to perform their sorcery, they need a natural source of magic. Before they only had the wishes of the citizens of Rosas. Now, they have Asha.

Asha’s life in the castle is one of extreme difficulty and loneliness. Magnifico and Amaya are horrible and outright abusive parents. Magnifico can be violent towards Asha, only seeing her as a source of magic rather than as a person. Amaya’s relationship towards Asha is more… complex, but she at least believes she is a good parent. With the whole castle under Magnifico’s thumb, Asha cannot even rely on her guards or handmaidens for comfort or protection. She has had no time to properly process her family’s deaths, and her status as Princess makes connecting with others difficult. More than anything, Asha longs for love, safety, and a community. Initially, the only place where she can find this community is out in nature with the animals. One of her only outlets of self expression is her art.

In the City of Rosas, Princess Asha can be a bit of an afterthought. Magnifico and Amaya are so extroverted and charismatic that Asha is frequently left behind, sitting off in the shadows during Magnifico’s addresses to the people, sketching away in her book. Her image is more rare around the kingdom and not many people get to actually see her. Some have never even heard her voice. This has led to a wide array of opinions about the Princess. Some see her as aloof and standoffish, maybe even a bit of a snob. Others see her as a mysterious and cool beauty they can idolize. 

However, once you move away from the city into the rural farms and forests of Rosas, the opinion about her is quite different, especially the closer you get to her hometown. This is because many of these people remember Asha before she was a princess. When she was a lively and happy child who loved granting wishes. They remember the great tragedy she faced, how she was taken away from her community, and how her new title has made her become so quiet and distant. Did she forget about her past as a peasant, or is something more going on in that castle?

Likes:

Animals (even Charo)

Nature

Art (specifically portraits of people and close ups of nature)

Desserts, candy, sweets of all kinds

The sea 

Granting wishes

Dislikes:

Her adoptive parents

Being compared to Amaya 

Sleeping 

Her guards (she does not remember their names)

Being cold

Random Quirks:

(some of these are just not in the fic, if it were novel length it would be)

She often draws people in secret because she doesn’t like asking them to pose for her. This has led to her developing a talent for drawing people very fast.

She eats cookies as part of her breakfast.

She sometimes suffers from rbf.

She refuses to wear any necklace other than her beaded ones. They’re the last things she has to remind her of her mother. 

Her magic is like the oxygen that runs through her body. That’s why when Magnifico is taking it away from her (especially when he’s being forceful) it feels like she’s being strangled.

She knows she’s beautiful. 

If she lived in our world, she would absolutely listen to Lana del Rey and Mitski.

Because she was sheltered all her life (grew up in a small forest community, spent ten years as the Princess) she has very little experience on various aspects of normal everyday life. Her concept of money is really skewed ($10 banana energy) and so is her concept of food because there is always an excess amount at the castle.

Design Details:

Her design is fairly similar to her canon design, just more princess-y. Her dress is still purple, however, it is much darker in color. I like this choice because:

It differentiates her from the millions of other Disney heroines who wear purple

It fits her more melancholy demeanor

It works with the idea of the heroes wearing dark colors while the villains wear light colors (Starboy wears black, Asha wears dark purple, Valentino is brown; Magnifico and Amaya wear white, Charo is white)

Her dress is made up of two parts–the dark purple underdress and a second part that goes over it (I don’t know what to call it, maybe like a pinafore but not really), which is more similar in color to her canon outfit. She has the same belt and jewelry, but more fancy save for her red necklaces. She also has some purple ribbons braided into her hair. 

[small-duck-energy]

I need to be horny on main for a minute. Sorry.

She just sent me that text, and I'm staring at this picture like hhhhhnnnnggghhhh "i hauve covid". Not sure if I blacked out for a minute there or not, but I was caught so off guard because we're both supposed to be at work.

To be clear: I'm not a kid. I have a gorgeous wife, gorgeous moots, and I know talented artists, so I'm confident I know beauty when I see it. When I tell you this picture was flawless, I mean I've literally spent 10 minutes going through a checklist in my mind trying to beat the allegations.

Gorgeous subject? ✅

Tasteful angle? ✅

Cleavage? ✅

Chocolate beauty marks? ✅

Alluring caption? ✅

Not too revealing but not too covered? ✅

Leaves you wanting more? ✅✅

I'm entranced. I can almost feel the heat as I imagine stuffing my face where it belongs. And the smell... I feel like those old cartoons where someone puts a pie on their windowsill and another character just floats toward it. Like the universe paused physics bc burying your face in it is more important. I feel like she could run a marathon, and I'd be able to follow her exact steps days later from scent alone.

If I had an enclosure, I'd be gnawing on the bars. I don't even know how to respond. It's like when you have that one crush who feels so incomprehensibly above you that the mere thought of trying to ask them out dwarfs the cumulative trials of humanity. I'd sooner try to walk to Pluto than craft a worthy response.

And yet...... I need it. I need to feel the moistness on my fingers, my lips, my chin. I need it to smother me. I need to smell it on my own breath hours later. I need it to consume every sense I have and dominate my entire focus. I need to lose myself in it. I need to touch that divinity to know all my struggles until this point have been worth the pain.

Wish me luck.

If you're expecting the picture below the cut then you'll be disappointed.

Just imagine (or bake) a really good loaf of banana bread because this whole post has been about a picture of a loaf of banana bread.

You're welcome.

[peachpaws0]

God I love love PB episodes so much

(Im gonna reblog with a continuation of the rant in the tags since I hit the tag limit :)

[ca-8]

Yakko x Reader Scenario: When You First Meet

'This is it. The beginning of the end.' 

Gripping on the straps of her backpack, (Y/n) exited the bus and stared up at the water tower that displayed the famous Warner Bros. logo. As expected, it emitted a smug aura onto the entire area; however, surprisingly, there was a slight twinge of mystery to it as well. But she didn't have time to ponder about it, so she only gave it an uneasy look and headed straight for the entrance.

Her heart stopped. She knew the place was going to be busy, but it was like an entire New York City packed in one section! So many writers, producers, actors, large men carrying heavy sets, every type of person working in film was scattered all over the place. It was like an ocean, with the people as marine life doing what they're designed to do, and (Y/n) being the puppy that was abandoned at sea.

The moment it all settled in, an involuntary realization invaded her thoughts. 'I don't belong here.'

The young girl reminded herself to breathe and rushed over to a vacant wall, then pulled out her phone. She had already sent her mother about a thousand messages telling her she was here, but since she hasn't responded, a few more shouldn't hurt. Fingers rapidly typing away, she bit her lower lip, already wishing she had stayed on that bus. 

"Oh, you're just gonna love it!" Her mother's squealing voice had already filled her skull. "You're so talented, I know you're gonna fit right in."

'Yeah, standing around all day with a bunch of people I don't know while doing something I suck at is exactly how I wanna spend my summer.' She let out a soft sigh. 'It's fine. Just shut up and make her happy, (Y/n).'

Several attempts of calling and texting later, no response. (Y/n) sighed again, and her eyes wandered over to the bustling crowd. 'No way. Absolutely no way.' But if she wanted to get the day over with, absolutely yes way.

First, she walked up to a lady looking down at the clipboard in her hands. "Um, excuse me," (Y/n) said. 

The lady's head snatched up. "KYLE!" she yelled, her eyes now ablaze with fury, "YOU IDIOT! THAT GOES IN THE WAREHOUSE ACROSS THE STUDIO!" And like there was nothing but a breeze behind her, the lady stomped off to the poor soul that had to face her wrath.

The breeze took a step back and ran around the corner. 'Maybe I'll find someone else instead…!' (Y/n) stopped and spotted a man sitting on the steps that lead to the entrance of a small building. She swallowed whatever was left in her mouth and reluctantly approached him. 

"E-Excuse me, sir?" she stuttered, hoping her voice was louder than the last time. As she got closer, (Y/n) noticed he was chuckling, and his gaze was glued onto a small piece of paper. 

"I...I did it…!" he said. She yelped and shrinked back when he suddenly jumped to his feet. "I FINALLY DID IT! WE'LL SEE WHO'S REGRETTING THE DIVORCE NOW, MARGARET!" And with a manic laugh, the man dashed into the building. 

'...Or maybe I'll just find it myself.'

It wasn't too long before (Y/n) got herself lost. Despite the help of maps that were stuck to some of the buildings, all of them seemed exactly the same. It was like a maze, and with each passing minute, she was more and more convinced that there was no finish line. Even worse, her mother was too busy to respond to anything she sent her. 

'Oh, what should I do?' (Y/n) thought for the thousandth time. No matter how hard she pinched or held them, her arms refused to stop trembling. Not too long ago, the outside of the studio became deserted and she'd hate to walk in a warehouse and possibly interrupt something important, so asking for help again was out of the question.

...Or, perhaps it wasn't. 

A tiny, hopeful smile crossed (Y/n)'s face when she heard the sounds of frustrated grunts around the corner. It was the first time she was so relieved to see a stranger. 

And thank god that stranger was a security guard. Though she wondered why he had a giant net in his hand, she shoved the curiosity as far in the back of her mind as she could and reached up to gently tap his shoulder. 

"Um, excuse me sir?" she asked as loud as she could. 

His head whipped around, revealing angry eyes and a scowl that said he was ready to kill. But right as his gaze landed on her, it changed within an instant. 

"Oh, hello!" he said with a bright smile. 

(Y/n) blinked, cocking her head. ‘What was this guy up to?’

"I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know where (M/n) (L/n) is filming? I'm her daughter, (Y/n), and I'm trying to look for her. She's not answering her phone either."

His joyful expression slowly melted into a confused one. "Uuhhh…(M/n) (L/n)?”

“Yes. She’s a part of Animal Kingdom? Do you know where that’s being filmed?”

“Oh! I know there’s a zoo around here called Animal Kingdom! I don’t think you’ll find it in a film studio, though.”

(Y/n) frowned. “...No, I mean the show. Aren’t they filming in a warehouse today? Do you know where that is?”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

Her eye twitched, and she was just about ready to drown the entire studio in the nearest ocean. “N-Nevermind, I’ll just-”

As if the universe wasn’t satisfied with tormenting her enough, the security guard suddenly launched up into the air and flew into the sky. Right before her eyes, the heavens were coated with explosives of every color that ever existed. 

“Oh my god!” (Y/n) yelled. ‘Who strapped fireworks on that guy?!’

“Oh, I knew you’d love it!”

Her eyes were ripped from the loud fireworks show as she was immediately smothered in a hug. “It’s so nice that another girl’s here! All the other ones here are either too busy or just keep shouting about a restraining order for some reason. I dunno, but anyway, I just know you're gonna love it here! Anyway, my name’s Princess Angelina Louisa Cantessa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the third! But since we're friends now, you can just call me Dot.”

This confirmed it. This was a trap set up by her mother to deliberately drive her insane, because how else can someone explain the nut jobs and talking dogs in pink dresses? 

A combination of those two things happened to be clutching her head and digging her face into hers. “...Huh?” (Y/n) mumbled.

‘Dot’ jumped off of her and smiled widely. “Sorry about Ralph by the way. I figured out you were coming at the last second and I really needed someone for your welcoming gift.” she said.

(Y/n) glanced up at the sky where the fireworks were slowly dying down. “Um...Is he gonna be okay?” she asked.  

“Of course he will!” her backpack said.

The teen screamed and threw her bag on the ground. A hand popped out and unzipped it with impossible ease, then a taller boy version of Dot jumped out, pulling up his long brown pants and flashing a grin. 

“H-...H-H-How did you…?!” (Y/n) stuttered, pointing at him. 

“What? Never heard of cartoon logic?” he said, approaching her. “And Ralph’ll be fine. His skull’s so thick, concrete’s the last thing that can kill him.”

“What-?”

“Anyhow,” he walked over to Dot and put an arm over her shoulder, “The name’s Yakko, this here’s my beloved baby sister Dot, and this is-” He stopped, staring at the empty space to his left. He leaned into Dot, whispering, “Say, uh, you don't mind looking for Wakko, do ya sis?”

Dot glanced at (Y/n) for an uncomfortable moment and suddenly shot her brother a glare. "I've got eyes all over this studio, Yakko," she warned, slowly stepping away.

Now (Y/n) certainly knew she didn't see pairs of eyes appear around every inch of her sight. 'Oh god, I didn't breath in drugs on the way here, did I? Actually, that would explain whatever the heck's going on.'

Yakko smiled as he watched his sister leave and turned to (Y/n). He walked closer to her, and she realized that his half-lidded eyes had a strange glint in them. “Sooo, your name’s (Y/n), right? A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

(Y/n)’s face heated up. ‘First I get lost, then see a guy get blown up, and now some other guy’s flirting with me? ...To be honest, this is still better than what Mom had planned for today.’

“So what brings ya’ here?” he asked.

“O-Oh, well, my Mom was supposed to give me a tour of the studio, but I’ve been giving that to myself all day. I tried finding her, but I’m pretty sure I’m nowhere near it by now.” Her eyes wandered over to the ground, but a realization made them perk back up and over to Yakko. “Hey, do you happen to know this place by any chance?”

“Know it? Please, my sibs and I live here, we know this place by heart and soul!” He mumbled something else, along the lines of “Basically made our hearts and souls”. 

Her heart jumped; finally, a piece of good news. “Really?” she said, a smile spreading across her face.

He nodded. “So where do ya’ need to go?” Before she could answer, he pulled out a piece of folded paper and moved in so close, their shoulders were smooshed together. Yakko unfolded it, and it turned out to be the biggest map (Y/n) has ever seen. “Well, from here, you’re gonna need to take a right and continue straight until you get to the Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts exhibit. But be careful, I heard some of them escaped, and if anyone asks if you’ve seen any of them, don’t tell them I gave one to Dot as a late birthday gift. Anyway, you take a left from there, then a right where you’ll see the lot where they used to shoot Game of Thrones. Now this is only a rumour I’ve heard, but I think some of the producers are still on that set. If you happen to see them, do not, I repeat, DO NOT mention season eight, or maybe just don’t mention the show at all. Actually, don’t even look at them. As a matter of fact, you probably shouldn’t even go there at all, just keep heading straight until you get to the D.C. Universe lot. Then you just take left there, then a sharp right over over, then you keep going straight until you get to here, turn up over there, turn right there, and then you’re there. Did ya’ follow all that?”

(Y/n) stared at his face, which was practically radiating with enthusiasm, and she felt her eye twitch again. “...No,” she said, shaking her head.

His smile dimmed, but it became just as bright as the sun again a split-second later. “Ah well, maps are gettin' old anyways,” he said, throwing the map over his shoulder. “WAKKO!!”

And, low and behold, another anthropomorphic dog popped out of nowhere, and (Y/n) was starting to question if there was an army of them hidden somewhere. But she had to admit, it was pretty cute how this one was dressed in an oversized blue sweater and red hat. 

“Tablet, please,” Yakko said politely, holding out his hand. 

‘You're not gonna walk me there-?'

Wakko suddenly held his head back with his cheeks puffed out, then leaned into Yakko’s hand as he forced out a small object from his mouth. After an incredibly uneasy moment, a tablet glazed in spit was in Yakko's grasp. While he praised the little guy, (Y/n) forced back the urge to vomit.

“E-Ehhhh…?” She couldn’t say anything else while her gaze frantically went back and forth from Wakko and the regurgitated tablet. 

“Oh! Where are my manners?” Yakko said. “(Y/n), this is my dear little brother, Wakko. Wakko, this here’s our new special friend, (Y/n).” 

“Hello!” Wakko greeted, who was suddenly in her arms. “You’re really pretty!”

“Ehh? Thank you? I guess??” she said apprehensively, and finally managed to make eye contact. Despite his...quirks, he's actually a little adorable... She let herself grin a little.

The moment of semi-peace was ruined when she took notice of Yakko’s narrowed eyes. “ALrighty, (Y/n)!” he said loudly, grabbing his little brother by the collar and gently setting him on the ground. “Animal Kingdom, right? Let’s get ya’ right over there.” He moved right beside her and taped the screen a couple times. 

“Um, what’re you doing exactly?” she asked.

“Doing what every person does to get somewhere nowadays.” He grabbed her waist and pulled her against him, and (Y/n) flinched from his touch. “Please keep your arms, legs, and personal items inside the tablet at all times.”

Just when she was about to question him for the hundredth time, he pressed the screen again, and her vision became nothing but white. Her body felt like it was launched into a tornado; a strong force of wind thrusted her back, and somehow, the boy’s arm kept her from flying off from his side. A second later, her feet were back on the ground, the sky was where it needed to be, and reality was back in place. 

Except for (Y/n)’s mentality. 

She stumbled around, trying to find her balance as the world unbearably whirled around her. Finally, she shook her head, and quickly turned back towards Yakko, whose face tried to tell her whatever happened was perfectly fine and normal. 

“What was THAT?” she yelled, staggering towards him and gripping his shoulders.

And he still had the audacity to have that 'why-are-you-freaking-out-so-much-we-do-this-every-Friday' smile. “Thank you for attending Warner’s Travel Tours! I would say my Agent Ralph’ll take your bags, but I left him alone with my sibs, so he’s probably in the middle of the Pacific Ocean by now.”

(Y/n) could only stare at him. Her mind was twisting and turning, trying so hard to make any sense of what happened but only making her headache grow larger and larger. And then, her thoughts just went blank.

She smirked. Then giggled. And a few seconds later, she had burst out laughing whilst holding her stomach. (Y/n) looked back up at Yakko, wiping a tear from her eye. “Th-Thank you…” she said, catching her breath. 

His smile had grown and she thought his white cheeks were red for a moment. Yakko had opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a net suddenly covering his entire body. Ralph was behind him, his skin and clothes burnt and ears practically smoking. “You’re coming with me, Warner!” he said.

And yet, Yakko only grinned. Like physics was his enemy, he disappeared from inside the net and appeared sprouting from the security guard’s back, cheerfully waving at (Y/n). “I’ll see ya’ around, yeah?” he said, then ran around the corner with Ralph sprinting right after him.

(Y/n) giggled and reached for the straps around her back. But when she only felt the (f/c) fabric of her shirt, her smile dropped, and a deep sigh escaped her lips. “Great…” she whispered.

“(Y/N)!” 

She gasped as a pair of arms squeezed the life out of her. Her mother spun her around to face her gleaming smile, which was immediately replaced by an apologetic frown. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get your texts! That scene took forever, but I’m glad you found your way here! You’re so smart! Anyway, I know we don’t get as much time now, but there’s still so much we’ll be able to see!...”

She rambled on and on and on and on. Her daughter’s shoulders slumped and she followed her to where she wanted her to go, but the frown on her face didn’t last long when she remembered the fun she had just a few seconds ago. ‘Maybe this summer won’t be that bad.’

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 17 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Hello my loves, just a reminder that I am still on vacation so the queue is posting this! Will respond to ur taglist requests and messages ASAP love u all :) 

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: canon-typical descriptions of death, violence, drug use

wordcount: 2k

You and Aaron each read Jack a book of his choosing before tucking him into bed and heading towards Aaron’s bedroom together. Bringing your pajamas into the bathroom, you change and brush your teeth with the door closed, which feels silly, given everything, but you can’t help it.  Aaron slips into the bathroom as you step out, and you sit on top of the covers, hands folded in your lap, anxiously awaiting his return. 

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” he asks, clocking your anxiety immediately. 

“Nothing, I just feel bad that I got us caught by Jack,” you confessed, looking down at the comforter. 

“I couldn’t be less upset about that,” he assures you, climbing into bed beside you and taking your hand in his. “I mean, he practically told us that he already knew, even if he was a little confused.” 

“That was the other thing-- sorry that marriage and all of that got brought up. I’m sure that was---”

“I’m not upset about that, either.” He interrupts you. “Did I do something to make you think I was upset?”

“No, no,” you assured him. “It’s just kind of early for that kind of stuff, I’m sure it was uncomfortable--”

“It wasn’t uncomfortable. Apparently I’ve done a bad job of expressing how strongly I care for you, and I’m sorry for that.” You go to interrupt, but he cuts you off. “I couldn’t be happier that Jack knows how much I love you. Sharing that with our people-- my son, and our team-- is not something you need to apologize for, or something I’m ashamed of. I’m thrilled to be able to love you openly. No more apologies, okay?” 

Your breath caught just a little, but you hold it together. “No more apologies,” you agreed. “Aaron, it’s such a privilege to be loved by you,” you whispered, needing him to know how much his words meant to you but scared to ruin the moment. Aaron just shook his head, leaning to press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he whispers into your hair, and you close your eyes, letting the peace of his touch overwhelm you. 

“There’s one more thing,” you said, after a moment. 

“And it’s not an apology?” Aaron checks. 

“No, it’s not an apology,” you assure him. “I wanted to thank you for sharing those pictures with Jack and me tonight. I’m sure it was emotional, but I was glad to see them. You love Haley so much. Thank you for sharing her memory with me.” 

“She was the reason I got up in the morning, from the day I met her until the day she died.” Aaron tells you, and you squeeze his hand.

“Everyone knew how much you loved her, Aaron. Even after the divorce, there wasn’t a single person at the bureau who knew a man who loved his wife that much.” You assured him.

“But it wasn’t enough. I failed her, and I could fail you too.”

“No, Aaron, no you didn’t. You promised to love her for as long as you lived, and you didn’t break that promise. You didn’t promise her you’d never change, and she never promised you that she’d never change. You both changed, but you never stopped loving each other.” You told him.

“How did you know? How did you know that I never stopped loving her? Didn’t that scare you out of loving me?’ Aaron whispered. 

“Aaron, the way you love her shows in everything you do. You never took a picture of her down, even after the divorce, when I’m sure they were painful to look at. You always let her know you were safe at night, and when she left you, you helped her move and made sure she had everything you needed.” 

“And that doesn’t scare you? That even when she left me, I still loved her?” 

“No, Aaron, it doesn’t scare me. That’s how I feel about you, so I understand.” 

“You don’t mean that,” Aaron says immediately-- how could you mean that? When Haley was so refined, so beautiful, so compassionate, and he was just a man, a man with baggage and trauma and a dark past?

“Of course I do, Aaron. I never told you this, and I might be selfish in telling you now-- but in the weeks after Haley died, I went to bed at night praying that time would move backwards and that I could take her place. I’d do anything to get her back to you, even if it meant that you and I never made it here.” 

“It’s an incredible privilege to be loved by you,” Aaron echoes your earlier statement, and you smile.

When you wake up the next morning, you realize that you’re never going to get a good night’s sleep without Aaron beside you again, and you love him and hate him for it in equal measure. Your anger is quickly forgotten when he rolls over and starts planting kisses across your face. 

“We have to get Jack to school,” you reminded him with a smile between kisses.

“We’ve got time,” he brushes you off. 

“You’ve got time, maybe. My hair is a mess from napping on your couch and I have to do my makeup,” you reminded him, planting one final kiss on his lips before rolling out of bed and heading towards the bathroom.

When you’ve gotten yourself ready for the day, you make your way out to the kitchen, were Jack is sitting in front of a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of orange juice. 

“Morning, little man,” you said, ruffling his hair and smoothing it back down as you sat in the seat next to him. Aaron crosses the kitchen with two plates, putting a piece of toast with peanut butter and banana slices in front of you, and one on his own placemat. 

“Thanks, honey,” You smile, taking a bite of your breakfast as he sits.

“Dad? Can we go to the soccer field tonight after work?” Jack asks as his father settles in.

“I can’t promise tonight, but we can definitely go this week, okay bud?” 

“Okay.” 

“Finish your breakfast, kiddo, or you’re gonna be late,” you told him, taking your plate to the sink and prepping travel mugs of coffee for you and Aaron, who shepherds Jack through the last few steps of getting out the door. You follow them down to the car and Aaron drives down the road to Jack’s school. You sit in the carpool line for a minute, listening to Jack point out his friends as they walk into the building, before Aaron pulls up to the curb and it’s Jack’s turn to get out. Aaron rolls down the window as Jack collects his things. 

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Hotchner,” a peppy brunette woman who you’re pretty sure is Jack’s teacher ducks down to make eye contact with Aaron through the window.

“Good morning, Ms. Meadows.”

‘Oh, and who’s this?” Ms. Meadows says, taking note of you for the first time. Aaron introduces the two of you, and you notice her looking you up and down, almost sizing you up. 

“Nice to meet you,” she says perfunctorily, turning her attention back to Aaron almost in an instant. “Did Jack tell you about the volunteer sign ups for the kids’ talent show?” 

“He did, I think his Aunt Jess--”

“Oh, that’s right, Jess did mention to me that she’d be here!” Ms. Meadows interrupts. “I guess I was just hoping to get some strong FBI dads in the building to help set up the stage equipment,” she pouts, and you briefly entertain the thought of leaning over the center console and wiping the pleading look across her face. 

“Well, I’ll see what I can do,” Aaron says, blissfully interrupted by Jack waiting to give him and you a kiss goodbye. The two of you kiss both of his cheeks, and he hops out of the backseat and takes off towards the main entrance. 

“She was pleasant,” you note sarcastically when Aaron pulls out of the parking lot.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked, looking over at you briefly, his nose scrunched up in confusion. 

“She’s clearly into you, Aaron.” You said, knowing it was obvious and he was just being oblivious. 

“What? No she’s not,” Aaron shook his head. 

“Oh, Mr. Hotchner, please come save me from the Woodbridge Elementary School talent show. I need your big, strong muscles to move all this heavy equipment because I’m just a docile young lady,” you mimicked Jack’s teacher in an exaggerated tone. 

“Now, if she had said that, then maybe I would have thought she was into me,” Aaron laughs at your dramatics. 

“She gave me a nasty look. She doesn’t like that she has competition.” You argue. 

“She doesn’t have competition. I mean, there is no competition. There’s just you, and that’s how I like it,” he said, taking one hand off the steering wheel to grab yours and bring it to his lips. 

Garcia is waiting for you both in Aaron’s office when you arrive at work.

“Is everything okay?” You ask her immediately, feeling Aaron shift his body towards yours.

“I finished digging up everything I could on Josh, if you want to see it.” She tells you both, and you look at Aaron. Truth be told, you don’t really want to know, but being disgusted and informed is probably better than being uninformed and caught off guard. 

“Come on, we’ll go review it in your office.” Aaron said, stepping aside to let Garcia lead the way. Once she is a few paces ahead, he leans down to whisper in your ear. “I’ve got you. You’re safe, and you just tell me if you need to take a break, okay?”

You nodded, and Aaron place a comforting hand on your back as the two of you made your way down to the batcave. 

“Okay, so, just going through the highlights,” Garcia starts, clicking at tabs and pulling them up on her assortment of monitors throughout the room.  “Starting a few weeks before you left, I noticed that Josh was calling and texting the same number a lot-- but only when you all were off fighting crime. Of course, I assumed that this absolute peach of a man had somehow conned not one but two women who had to be decidedly out of his league, but it turns out that wasn’t the case. He’s been doing coke, and the number leads to his dealer.” 

“Fuck, again?” You interrupted her.

“He was doing coke when the two of you were together?” Aaron asked, surprised. 

“Not for a while, or so I thought. The coke was what made him violent-- I told him it was the drugs or me, and when he told me that he’d picked me, I believed him.” You explained. “He must have been high when he showed up that night-- he was always an asshole but showing up like that was out of character.” 

“So, with you out of the picture, it seems like the coke usage has increased a lot. Like, from a weekly to a daily thing, a lot. He’s going out at night, racking massive credit card debt. He hasn’t purchased a firearm or anything that indicates that he might be planning something violent, but he’s definitely acting impulsive.” 

“Was he sober or high when he sent the flowers?” Aaron asks. 

“Sir, I don’t think he’s been sober since you took all of her stuff out of the apartment,” Garcia responds. 

“He’s only going to get more aggressive and out-of-touch with reality the longer this bender lasts,” you note, clinically, as if you were talking about a case halfway across the country and as if your future wasn’t hanging in the balance. 

“We’ll keep an eye on it, and we’ll be ready. Garcia, can you print out a full copy of this and get it on my desk?” 

“Are you sure? The full copy is really long, it’s got to be--” 

“I’m sure, Garcia. Thank you.”  

tagging:  @hotforhotchner11      @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @msmarvelsmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie

[snackhobi]

pairing: jungkook x (gender neutral) reader / word count: 20k / genre: fluff (author!reader, florist!jungkook)

summary: “You’re in love and you didn’t tell me?” Jimin sounds affronted. “Who is it? Are they cute? Where are you hiding them? I knew you were lying about those flowers, you lying liar.” or: the story of how you meet a pretty florist with soft hands and warm eyes, how he mends your broken heart, and how he helps you realise some other things along the way.

warnings: use of a few curse words, reader is self-deprecating and suffering from heartache towards the beginning (v mildly angsty ig? but dw it passes), but otherwise this is a Very Soft fic!

--

“It’s time to get up.”

“It absolutely is not.” Your voice is muffled under a layer of pillows and blankets, material pressing down on your body and head, covering you. A protective cocoon. “I’ve become one with my duvet and we shall never be parted.”

You yelp when the blanket is ruthlessly ripped from you. Your curtains have been thrown open and you can feel how the sun is streaming in through your windows, warming your skin, even if you can’t see it; there’s a particularly fluffy pillow smothering your face right now to keep the world outside at bay.

“This has to be against the Geneva convention,” you whine as your collection of pillows is similarly stripped from the bed, leaving you entirely bereft from their comfort and protection. You curl into a tight ball around your Pusheen cushion and try to protect her from Jimin’s grasping fingers— your final bastion of defence against him. “No! Not Pusheen! Please! Take me instead!”

Jimin rolls his eyes before stealing Pusheen right from your arms, ignoring your dramatic sob as she’s pulled from your desperate hands. He tucks the plush grey cat under his arm before fixing you with a stern gaze. “I said it’s time to get up,” he repeats, ignoring the chaos of pillows and blankets and toys now littered around him. “You know the drill, Y/n.”

You suck in a deep breath, filling your lungs with air before letting out a long, weary sigh. All your theatrics disappear with your escaping breath, strength seeping out of you. “A week of wallowing,” you say in a small voice, eyes squeezing shut. “I know.”

You don’t have to look up at Jimin to know what expression is on his face right now. You feel the mattress dip and then soft fingers are gently stroking the hair out of your face. “A week and then we get up.” His voice is soft as he repeats the mantra.

Your cheek drags across the cotton of your sheets as you open your eyes and turn your head into the hand that Jimin’s still drawing down your face. “You’ve always been better at getting back on your feet than me,” you say, and Jimin affectionately pats your cheek.

“You’re being melodramatic,” he says kindly. “You’ve seen me at my worst and you know that’s not true. I’m only good at getting back on my feet because I have you to lift me up, and I’m here for you too.”

“Can I have Pusheen back?” You sound hopeful as you pout at him, pushing your bottom lip out.

“You can have her back once you’ve showered and had breakfast,” Jimin says. 

Your limbs are leaden weights as you drag yourself out of bed. The cold water of your shower shocks some life back into them, and you’re almost back to your regular self once you pull yourself from the bathroom, thoroughly scrubbed and refreshed. Jimin greets you with a fruit smoothie bowl, the most wholesome meal you’ve had in the past week; it’s infinitely healthier than the ice cream and snacks and junk food you’ve been shovelling into your mouth.

“I didn’t realise I had half this stuff in the fridge.” You use your spoon to swirl the oats and fruit into the yoghurt, muddying the pretty rippled effect Jimin had created with it. “I’m guessing you brought it with you?”

Jimin is eating eagerly from his own bowl and swallows down a spoonful of banana and berries before he responds. “No, it was already in there, actually,” he says. 

“Oh, yeah.” Your free hand goes down to Pusheen, who’s safely in your lap, and you dig your fingers into her soft velvet skin. “Of course.”

Your face is twisted into a wince as you look down and continue to knead the cushion on your knees. Seokjin loves fresh produce, taking you to the farmer’s market for organic strawberries and blueberries and raspberries, lifting them up for you to breathe in their bright scent before laughing at how you go cross eyed at how close he brings them to your face. Your fridge must still be full of these reminders of him, food you’d bought for him, things he’d made for you.

“Well!” Jimin’s voice is loud and bright, cutting through your thoughts with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. “You better finish up— we’re going out soon and you’ll need all the energy for today!”

You’re immediately on guard, eyes narrowing at him. “Going out where?”

“Shopping, duh,” he says, raising his eyebrows at you. “You said you’d come with me and Namjoon to pick out stuff for our new apartment, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” It’s only been a week and it’s like you’ve forgotten that the world is still moving on around you, taking no notice of how your own world has been upheaved and irreparably fragmented. You know Jimin is being cheery and upbeat in an attempt to distract you from this, and it’s working, but it’s also highlighting exactly how much you’ve been wallowing. You normally never would have forgotten. “Alright, let me finish up and get my shit together and then we can go.”

Getting your shit together takes longer than it should. You have to wade through the piles of blankets on the floor to get to your wardrobe, and the desk in your office is in similar disarray, notes and stationery strewn across its surface from your week long stint of wallowing and writing about said wallowing. 

You’d never planned on the romance in a novel about magic in the modern world to be so depressing, but hey. They always say write what you know and all you know right now is heartbreak.

(“I’m sorry. I just… don’t feel the same.” Jaerim’s voice is soft and gentle, even now, even as he’s breaking Lily’s heart, so tender as it falls apart in his hands. “You’ll always be my best friend, Lily, but nothing more.”

Lily’s smile is pained. “I know,” she says, her own voice small and weak. “I know. I just couldn’t hold it in any longer. I— I had to tell you or I felt like it was going to burst out of me. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll always love you, Lily.” Jaerim sounds sorrowful. “But not the way you want.”

Why had she ever expected anything different?)

You’ve been feeding all of your sadness and heartbreak into your most recent heroine, using your latest novel as a way of catharsis, but the problem is that your stories always have happy endings. Right now Lily may be heartbroken after a failed confession, but at the end of the story she’s going to be happy. You, however, will still be sad and lonely once the book is finished and for all that you project your hopes and wishes onto your main characters, you know your own story will never go so smoothly— real life is never as neat as that.

You pause when you catch sight of one of the Polaroids scattered on your keyboard. Seokjin’s beautiful skin is washed out and there's a glint of red in his eyes from the bright flash of your camera; it's a terrible photo and the focus is all wrong, but he still looks radiant as he smiles at you, ever beautiful. 

The heroes you write are soft and kind and lovely; fierce and strong and admirable; talented and smart and impressive. You, however, are clownish and sarcastic and nonsensical. Just an absolute mess of rough edges and endlessly tangled thoughts. Unwanted. Undesirable. Unlovable.

(No wonder Jin— bright, brilliant, beautiful Jin— doesn’t love you back.)

You swallow and steel yourself before opening the top drawer of your desk to sweep all the littered bits and pieces of your life into it before slamming it shut, trying to ignore how metaphorically fitting it is, and then grab what you came here for in the first place: your camera. You loop the strap of the Polaroid around your neck so that you’re ready for the day ahead. 

You know that Jimin thinks you should just stick to using your phone, considering the piles of film you get through, but there’s something about the whole instant photo process that just works for you. Maybe it’s just a writer/artist thing. Maybe it’s just a you thing. Either way, you like to take your camera everywhere so that you can take photos of things that inspire you and incorporate them into scenes of your stories.

(You have so many photos of Seokjin, and he’s reflected in so many parts of your books— from the jokes that characters tell, to things they eat, to hobbies they have. You may not have ever been so transparent as to project him directly onto the love interests of your main characters before now, but he’s ever present in other ways. There's a part of him in every thing you’ve ever written, even before you fell for him.)

(Your love for him must have been obvious from the start, and yet he’d never mentioned it at all.)

(What made you think it would be a good idea to confess?)

“Y/n?”

You look up from where you’ve been staring at the same bowl for the past three minutes, the leaf pattern stamped into its edge blurring together into eyes that are staring back at you. “Huh? Yeah? What?”

Over Jimin’s shoulder you can see Namjoon trailing around the small store, staring at some pretty wall-hangings with appreciative eyes. For all that Jimin had claimed to be concerned about his boyfriend’s taste in decor, they’ve asked for very little input from you, so you’ve been left alone to zone out for most of the morning and afternoon. 

“I was saying Joonie has a suit fitting he needs to get to, so we were going to get that done before lunch,” Jimin says. “You’re welcome to come along as well if you want?”

“So I can watch someone ask your boyfriend which side his penis hangs down so they can tailor his slacks accordingly? I think I’m good.”

You sound almost like your usual self which is why you think Jimin lets this pass without comment— you’re very happy being independent but it’s true that you’re somewhat more delicate than usual so you understand Jimin’s worry.

“I’ll drop you a message when we’re done.” Jimin smiles at you. Behind him, Namjoon picks up a large ceramic crab, only to immediately drop it onto an incredibly fluffy shag carpet— which fortunately saves it from breaking. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Eh, take your time.” You keep hold of Jimin’s attention as Namjoon sheepishly attempts to pick up the crab, only to immediately drop it back onto the rug. “I haven’t been out for a while so I could do with a walk in the fresh air and sunshine. I’m sort of like a dog. Or a plant, I guess. Just with slightly more complex emotions.”

Namjoon has just put the crab back into place by the time Jimin turns around, though his hand lingers on it. “Baby, can we—?”

“You’ve already filled the quota when it comes to crab-themed decorations, Joonie,” Jimin interrupts.

When Namjoon looks at you with imploring eyes, you raise both your hands and step backwards. “Don’t involve me, I’m just an innocent bystander,” you say, before escaping so that Namjoon can (unsuccessfully) try to persuade Jimin to up the amount of sea-life themed decor allowed in their new home.

This part of the city isn’t one you get to often, but it’s really beautiful. You know Namjoon likes it around here, near the river, because there are a lot more offbeat and avant-garde shops than you’d find more centrally, a warren of curiosities and pretty places around each corner. You pass by shops selling antiques, fabric, jewellery; you pause to take photos of the eye-catching doorways into each of the shops, the mismatched bunting fluttering overhead, the utterly eclectic nature of it all. 

You pass by a tiny baking shop and pause in your tracks, peering into the window at a collection of rolling pins— the wood is embossed with different designs that get pressed into the pastry when it’s rolled out, all sorts of pretty patterns on display.

Jin would love these, you think, and then you tear your eyes away.

Stupid. 

You continue to wander through the maze of shops but now you’ve sunk into your own thoughts. Kim Seokjin. A close friend whom you’d been harbouring feelings for, for so long now; it had been getting so hard to try and keep that love at bay, to try and shove it down inside you, keep it hidden and safe. But it had been bleeding out of you at every turn, in the way you moved and spoke and wrote, every sharp edge of you softened by your tenderness for him, impossible to ignore.

And so you’d finally let go. You’d let it out into the world, spoken the words you’d been holding onto for so long— and for a moment, just a moment, you’d had hope. Jin is bright and kind and lovely to everyone, but surely what the two of you had was a little more, a little different; all those hours spent together, the friendship you’d built, the language you’d created with each other of jokes and references that other people didn't understand. You’d thought it was something more.

You’d thought that maybe you could get your storybook ending. That maybe, for once, rather than having to imagine a mutual love and pouring that quiet desire into your books, it could be real— that the cheesy, embarrassing daydreams you’d always kept to yourself and only expressed through your writing could finally come true. 

But no. Jin only loves you as a friend. You know he still considers you a friend, even now, for all that you’ve ruined things by opening your big dumb stupid idiot mouth; you’ve spent a week wallowing after his gentle rejection but you know he’ll still be waiting for you once you come back to yourself. 

You’re just not sure how long that’ll take.

You’re finally pulled out of your reverie when a burst of colour catches your eye. There’s a soft blue bicycle which has been adorned with flowers and trailing leaves, part of a display in the front of a store that’s brimming with blooms, buckets set up in a cascading rainbow of colours. The windows are similarly full of plants, all enjoying the sunshine of the afternoon. Your eyes trail across the flourishing bouquets and then up to the sign, lovely and pretty, in what seems to be a hand-painted cursive: Spring Day.

You have a single, tiny cactus in your office— the only thing you trust yourself to keep alive— but screw it. You’re itching to buy something for yourself and everything seems so pretty in here. You might just buy yourself a fuck-off huge arrangement of flowers, as a sort of metaphor for the death of the hope you’d held in your chest, that your love for Seokjin might be returned. 

That ship has sailed. You’ve cast it off from the shore and set it ablaze. You’re not sure they had bouquets at Viking burials, but it’s the 21st century now. You think you’re allowed to mix it up a bit.

A bell lets out a tiny, crystalline tinkle as you swing the door open, announcing your presence to anyone inside. The front counter is covered in plants, some larger, some smaller, with a few pots of flowers that you would be hard-pressed to name; there’s a glass bowl of water, too, that has unlit rose shaped candles floating in it. Cute.

You peer behind the large leaves of a ficus plant to see if there’s anyone behind the counter but it looks deserted. The only evidence that someone has been here is the book that’s open and resting face down on the wicker chair there— The Language of Flowers, okay, that makes sense, you guess. You take a sneaky photo of the set-up, something about it resonating in your chest; although there’s no one here right now their presence is still undeniable. It’s poetic, in a way. You love visual poetry.

You wave the photo about in the air to help it develop as you make your way towards the back of the shop. Spring Day seems surprisingly big, extending back farther than you had initially thought. It’s hard to gauge the actual size, with displays of flowers and plants everywhere and even hanging from the ceiling above. You meander through the store and pause to touch a hanging glass planter, which slowly spins and scatters light across you. It’s like every spare inch inside is covered, but somehow it doesn’t feel chaotic. It’s so pretty and peaceful here.

There’s clearly some sort of order to things even if you can’t tell what it is. Each display is labelled with the names of the plants and how to look after them, but just as you’re leaning forwards to read one, a noise catches your attention. You pause and tilt your head. Drifting closer to the source of the sound, you realise that it’s someone singing, a soft melody that you don’t recognise. You find that you step lightly, almost enraptured, not wanting to break the serenity of the moment with heavy footfall as you step into a greenhouse; you round the corner to find who’s singing and stop in your tracks. 

There’s a pretty doe-eyed boy bent over a selection of blooms that he’s watering, white and yellow and purple and pink flowers softly trembling at the touch of the drizzle that runs over them, and it almost seems like they’ve turned towards the lilting tones that slip from his lips. You watch as he draws the watering can in a sweeping arc, the motion causing his earrings to move, catching your attention when the sunlight cascading in through the glass of the greenhouse shines off the glinting silver; his hair hangs a little in his eyes, eyelashes fanned across his cheek as he keeps his attention cast downwards, smiling at the flowers on display near his feet.

His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and you can see the definition of his arms, the flex of his muscles under a tattoo as he moves the heavy watering can without effort— and yet he looks like he belongs here, surrounded by flowers and plants and sunlight, soft and neat in his loose shirt, narrow waist cinched in by the ties of his apron. He turns the watering can a little further and you can see that the tattoo looks like a lily, petals unfurled over the soft skin of his inner arm.

You love visual poetry. And this man is poetry in motion.

It seems like he’s finished watering the flowers because he straightens up with a smile, song finally coming to an end. “All done,” he says to them in a quiet voice, and then he finally looks up.

He immediately startles when he sees you, water sloshing audibly in the watering can in his hands. You jump too, surprised at his surprise, the two of you like startled rabbits when you spot each other. Skittering around and trying to recatch your balance.

“Sorry, sorry!” You lift your hands in apology, holding them in front of your face as you wince. “I didn’t want to interrupt, you seemed really focused!”

The florist is blushing. He looks absolutely mortified, a pink flush stealing across his cheeks and the tips of his ears, betraying his embarrassment. “I, uh. It’s fine!” He stammers. “I wasn’t busy. Um. Can I help you?”

Your hands fall back to your sides, your heart immediately going out to this poor boy, who looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up. “I was just looking around, actually, when I heard you singing,” you say. “I didn’t mean to be like— a sort of weird voyeur, I guess? Sorry. Your voice is lovely, by the way.”

The flush has crawled down his neck. “Um, thank you?” You get the feeling he’s only saying this because you’re a customer, and if this were any other circumstance, he would have turned tail and bolted by now. Unfortunately he’s trapped by the fact he works in a retail job and he can’t escape. He shuffles a little from foot to foot as he resolutely avoids your gaze.

You take pity on him. What can you ask to change the topic? Hm. “Can you give me some advice about plants, actually?”

This seems to be the right thing to say. He carefully sets the watering can down, fingers plucking at the ties of his apron as he readjusts them, but he seems a bit more comfortable now that you’ve moved away from complimenting him and onto work related talk. “Sure,” he says. “What would you like to know?”

“I was wondering what sort of plant would be good for someone who’s only good with cactuses. I mean cacti,” you correct yourself. “I’d like something different, but I’m worried about killing it if I forget to water it. You know, the bane of every novice gardener’s existence— their own forgetfulness and ignorance. Of which I have a lot. I am spectacularly ignorant.”

The florist blinks but then he gives you a little smile, finally glancing at you. His eyes are so lovely and deep, sunshine refracting from the greenhouse reflected in his eyes, points of brightness against that endless, warm brown. “I think everyone is guilty of under-watering plants,” he says, apparently unperturbed by how unsuitable you are to be a plant parent. “I think a peace lily might suit you. Would you like to come have a look and see if you’d like one?”

A peace lily. Lily. The name of your most recent novel’s heroine. How weirdly apt. “Sure, I’d love to see the lilies.”

As you follow him you notice that there’s still a little tinge of pink on the back of his neck, evidence of how he must feel embarrassed at being caught singing and talking to plants. You find it endearing, actually, but you’re not about to say this to a stranger, especially as he clearly wants this entire interaction over and done with as quickly as possible.

The peace lily turns out to be a pretty white flower, emerald green foliage curling out from the simple unglazed pot the florist hands over to you with an infinite amount of care. He holds it delicately— it looks so small in his careful hands— and makes sure you’re fully supporting its weight before he finally lets it go. Your fingers brush his as he does and you notice how he draws back immediately, shy.

“You don’t have to water her regularly, you can just touch the soil to see if it’s moist and give it a little top up if it’s not. Even if you forget, as long as you water her when she starts to droop a little she’ll be fine. Just make sure she gets a little sunlight and you wipe down her leaves once or twice a year so dust doesn’t stop her from getting enough light, and you’re good to go.” He’s smiling, but you notice he’s still looking away from you, resolutely staring at the plant in your hands instead. “Peace lilies are incredibly forgiving.”

“Oh, that’s good, I’ll probably be asking for a lot of forgiveness,” you say. “I can guarantee I’ll forget to water her so it’s good to know she can take it.”

When you refer to the plant as ‘her’ and ‘she’— just like the florist has been— it seems like he only just notices that he’s been doing that. He looks a little embarrassed, yet again. “She’ll be— I mean, it’ll be fine, I’m sure,” he says.

“I promise I’ll do my best to look after her.” You tighten your grip protectively around your newly adopted plant. “I’d take a bullet for her.”

The florist lets out a little laugh, revealing a slip of his white teeth before his mouth clicks shut. He looks almost surprised at the fact he’d let out a chuckle and tries to cover it up with a cough. “Hopefully you won’t have to.”

You watch as he draws a ribbon around the pot, looping it against the patterned, unglazed ceramic before tying it into a neat bow. His hands are sure and his motions are practiced, fingers deft as he finishes the knot and tucks a business card into the bag alongside your plant. You can’t help but watch him, magnetised— he’s absolutely fascinating. Cute and soft, but with an undeniable strength to him, underlying each of his movements, almost hidden under the clothes that envelop him.

“Is there anything else I could help you with today?”

He’s blinking at you with those large, pretty eyes. His mouth is still a little open and you can’t help but reminded of—

“What song were you singing earlier? It was so lovely, but I didn’t recognise it.” You want to find that song immediately and keep it close forever, listen to it on a loop, even if it won’t be the same if it’s not being sung in the dulcet tones of this pretty florist. It’s such a beautiful song, whatever it is.

His mouth snaps shut again and the blush returns full force. “Nothing,” he squeaks. “It’s nothing.”

You squint at him. “Is ‘Nothing’ the name of the song?”

“No! It’s. Um. I mean, it doesn’t have a name yet.” His voice is so high right now. You pause before you light up, eyes widening.

“Wait, are you saying it’s your own song? You wrote it? Oh, wow! That’s so cool,” you say. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, I didn’t know. My bad. Totally understand wanting to keep your work private.” You quirk a smile at him. He doesn't know that you're a writer, one who publishes under a pseudonym for privacy; only your close friends know the truth. You totally get it. “Guess you probably want me to pay so I can get out of your hair now, huh?”

“N-no, it’s fine,” the florist stammers. He’s still so polite, even when he’s obviously flustered.

“Ah, you don’t have to be polite just because I’m a paying customer.” You wave your hand dismissively. Before taking off as an author you’d worked back-to-back retail jobs and it had sucked. “I’m being a pain, I know. How much do I owe you?”

He stays silent as you give him money and he hands over the change, dropping the coins into your outstretched hand. You give him one last smile before lifting your bag from the counter and turning to go, finally leaving this poor man in peace. He must be glad to see the back of you.

But then.

“Magic Shop.” His voice is quiet from behind you.

“Hm?” You pause and glance over your shoulder, confused. “Pardon?”

The handsome florist is looking down at the counter, wrapping an offcut of ribbon around one of his fingers, staring down at it as he does. “Magic Shop,” he repeats, a little louder. He tightens the loop of ribbon around his finger. “The song. I was thinking of calling it that.”

“Oh.” You continue to look at him for a few moments longer before a wide smile crosses over your face. “That’s a really beautiful name for a really beautiful song.”

He glances up from where he’s been staring at the end of his finger flush deep red, almost purple; the ribbon goes lax in his loosening hold and blood rushes back into his fingertip. “Thank you,” he says, bashful as he smiles back at you. “I’m glad you liked it.” 

--

The peace lily takes pride of place on your desk once you’ve cleared it of the crap you’ve let pile up over the past week. She watches as you bend over your keyboard and mutter to yourself, pruning back a lot of the raw hopelessness of your most recently written passages before starting a new chapter.

Lily’s escaped to the neighbouring city to get away from Jaerim and her broken heart. She gets lost as she’s wandering through this new, mysterious place, trapped in a maze of alleyways before she stumbles across a mysterious building with roses climbing up the trellis by the door. The front garden is full of flowers and tended by the prettiest woman she’s ever seen, eyes wide and dark as she startles at Lily’s sudden appearance over the small stone wall. Lily might not know it now but she’s just met someone important and special, a future friend: Yunhee, a witch who can speak to plants and sells dried bundles of herbs and flowers and spells to anyone who finds her.

It’s cheesy and cliché and you know it.

“It’s cheesy and cliché but it’s cute!” Your agent, Hoseok, is as upbeat as always, and he seems genuinely onboard with the snippet you’ve just sent him. “Especially after how sad the chapters were before this one. I think it’s a nice change of pace, considering how heavy your last novel was too.”

“Haha, yeah,” you say. 

Hoseok has no idea about your botched confession to Seokjin and how it had fuelled the subsequent heartbreak you’d put Lily through; you’d put your heroine through the wringer to let all your feelings out, because if you have to suffer, she does too. Especially if she’s going to get a happy ending after all of it. Lucky her. 

“Your fans will love it.” Hoseok continues, oblivious. “Where did the inspiration suddenly come from, though? I thought you said you were struggling with where to go with this one.”

“I don’t know really.” You sound absent as you stare at the neatly tied ribbon that’s still affixed around your lily’s pot, Spring Day’s business card still nestled into it. “It just came to me, I guess.”

You have to resist the instinct to take a photo of the peace lily to ask Seokjin what he’d name her. (He’s always so good with names.)

You know you’ll have to see him eventually. That’s the problem when all your friends are friends with each other; it might still be a while off but once Jimin and Namjoon have moved into their apartment and decorated it, they’ll hold a housewarming party and everyone will be invited. You can’t avoid Jin forever. You don’t want to, either, but right now you still feel like your heart is an open wound, and you need to give it time. Seeing him right now will just peel back the bandage you’ve tried to lay across your weeping heart to try and hold it together until it heals.

And you still feel awkward as fuck, too. Rejection hurts but it’s also embarrassing. Struggling through ten layers of repression to be sincere with someone and open yourself to pain, only to be let down? Ugh. Awful. Terrible. Never again. You’re gonna stick with repression from now on and just live vicariously through the stories you write. It might be lonely but at least you can keep your heart safe. (Not that anyone wants your heart, anyway.)

You start to play music to your plants. You can’t sing as well as the florist, but at least your lily and cactus can benefit from the sound of music, even if you’re probably off-key when you sing along to the soft songs you choose for them. 

(“Plants grow better when they’re spoken to.”

“What? Really?”

“Really,” Yunhee says with a small smile, fingers curling tenderly around the petals of the deep red tulip. “They respond to love and affection just like we do.”

Lily stares at the bloom and watches how the witch touches it so gently— with so much love and affection— and for a second she wishes was a flower, too.)

You have very little faith in your abilities to keep a plant alive, but your peace lily seems to flourish under your care. It’s only one plant but alongside your cactus it seems to bring light and life to your office, and there’s a bubbling sense of satisfaction in your chest each time you see them, still alive despite your ineptitude. It’s a brief distraction from the lingering sadness that still dogs your heels, opening up each time you find yourself thinking of Seokjin before having to quiet those thoughts.

The lily and cactus are fine but it doesn’t take long before you find yourself wanting to add more members to your green coterie. Plus, you never did buy that fuck-off huge bouquet, so maybe you’ll treat yourself to one this time around.

When you step into Spring Day you’re greeted by the sight of someone actually behind the counter today, barely visible behind the large leaves of the ficus plant; when the bell rings they pop up and it’s the same florist as before, eyes wide as he peeps over the counter and only growing wider when he spots who it is.

“Hi,” he says. He’s not as squeaky as he was last time but he still seems a little flustered at your appearance, fumbling with The Language of Flowers as he drops the book onto the chair and stands up straight; his hoop earrings have small chains today and they’re jostled by the motion. He looks away from you to brush his apron down. He’s wearing a loose button-up underneath it, sleeves rolled up like before, revealing the thin bracelets he has on each wrist. “You’re back.”

“I am.” You smile widely, surprised he's remembered you and weirdly happy at the sight of him. You’d half expected to see someone else; there’s no way this guy is the only person who works here, but you’re glad it’s him. “I was worried my lily would get lonely so I thought I’d get her a friend. Can I pick your brain for another recommendation?”

He takes you to the succulents. There’s a menagerie of terrariums to choose from, bursting with different shapes and sizes of plants, bright greens and soft teals and muted browns. 

“I think you’ll like this one,” he says, lifting up a dodecahedron of glass, each geometric plane trimmed with metal. He holds it up for you as you peer inside, small succulents nestled in a scattering of pebbles and soil. “They like bright light, but keep them out of direct sunlight because the glass can magnify it and burn them. And water them really sparingly, because there’s no drainage.” He taps the base of the terrarium. “It’s really easy to over-water succulents.”

He’s always so careful when he handles things, even if he lifts them like they’re weightless. No wonder the plants and flowers bloom so prettily here. They know they’re loved and looked after.

“They’re so cute.” You smile at the collection of contrasting plants that somehow live harmoniously together in such a small space. “And there’s more than one! So my lily will have plenty of friends.”

You’re too busy looking down to painstakingly accept the terrarium to notice the small, shy smile that flits across the man’s face as he watches you, your hands so cautious and protective as you accept more members into your growing family. “You’re right,” he says. “She won’t be lonely.”

You have the glass ball hugged against your chest as you trail behind the man, but then you come to a stand still by a selection of floral arrangements and realise that there’s no way you’ll be able to carry both the terrarium and a bouquet; at least, not one the size you’d been planning for. The florist notices the sound of your footsteps disappearing and stops to look over his shoulder. He seems concerned.

“Sorry,” you apologise, staring at one particularly large collection of flowers and foliage all gathered together in brown paper, soft pastel colours surrounded by greenery and smaller pale blooms. “I was just thinking about how nice your bouquets are. They’re so pretty.”

“Would you like one?”

“Of course, but I only have so many hands.” You laugh as you glance down at the terrarium you’re clutching onto. “I wouldn’t trust myself to hold a bunch of flowers at the same time as this. That would be a disaster waiting to happen, honestly.”

The florist pauses. “How about if I make you a boutonniere to pin on your shirt?”

You look up from the terrarium, blinking. There’s that tinge of pink stealing over his cheeks again and you find the sight surprisingly endearing. “You can do that?”

“If you’d like.” He’s looking away from you again, staring intently at a bucket of sunflowers. “So at least you have some flowers to take home.”

Something twinges, deep down in your chest, right at the bottom of your ribcage. Something you can’t put a name to. “That sounds nice. Yes, please? If it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

You carefully put your succulents down on the counter and lean against it as you watch him select flowers for the corsage, pausing before he chooses each one; he keeps his gaze averted from you the whole time but you think it’s because he feels awkward about the attention you’re giving him. You’re not pretending like you’re not watching him intently, wanting to take everything in, intrigued. He keeps his eyes cast down as he starts to bring everything together but there’s still a flush on his cheeks. It’s… adorable. He’s adorable. 

“Feel free to say no, but can I take a photo?” You point at the camera you have looped around your neck. “Not of you! Well. Not all of you. Just… your hands as you make the corsage? I swear I don’t have a hand fetish, I just like to take photos of things I think are cool. Totally get if you don’t want me to, I—”

“Sure.”

He’s staring down at the tiny floral arrangement in his hands as he interrupts you, but he seems resolute despite the blush on his face. You pause for a second and then smile. You lift the Polaroid camera up to peer through the viewfinder and take the shot, but before you have the chance to take a proper look it seems like the florist is finished.

He only looks up at you now that he’s done and holds his work shyly up for you to inspect, as if it’s not the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. He’s framed a soft purple rose with small blooms of lilac and white baby’s breath, offset by a burst of greenery, delicate and perfectly balanced. 

“Oh, that’s so beautiful,” you breathe. You reach out to touch it with reverent fingers, lavender petals of the rose so soft against your skin. “You did that so quickly, too! How did you choose everything? Did you just go for things you thought would match?”

“Um.” The florist has turned red. “Yes?”

You decide not to press further, even if you wonder what it is that has him so embarrassed right now. Probably because you complimented him on his floristry skills. “You have a really good eye,” you say, smiling. “It’s so lovely.”

He somehow flushes an even brighter shade of scarlet when you struggle to pin the boutonniere on and ask for his help; he’s so careful as he secures it in place, staring at his hands as he settles the flowers gently against your chest.

“Perfect.” You beam at him and feel triumphant when he gives you a small smile in return despite how shy he seems, but then he seems to realise that he’s still got his hands resting against the fabric of your clothing and rips them away like they’re on fire.

“Um.” He has his head turned away from you but there’s a wide smile on his face, teeth on show as he looks down at the ground. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

You’ve just finished paying when you realise— “I don’t think you’ve charged me for the boutonniere ?”

The florist seems like a rabbit caught in headlights. “It’s a, uh, promotional thing. An incentive to come back and buy a full bouquet or arrangement. You… uh, you actually get a discount on your first bouquet if you get a boutonniere or corsage first. I just— I need your name to make sure you get the discount. Next time you come. If you come back,” the man says in a rush, before sucking his lips in and looking away from you. “If that’s okay?”

Of course you’re going to come back. “Oh! Sure! It’s Y/n,” you say. 

“Y/n,” he repeats. He’s staring at you, lips parted, soft around the shape of your name. You wait for a beat, looking back at him, before one of eyebrows rises.

“Um… do you have a book to write it down in? Or do you just memorise all of your customer’s names straight off the bat?”

The florist blinks and then his eyes go wide and his cheeks flush again. “A book! Of course, um.” He scrabbles around behind the counter, flustered, but seems to come up empty-handed. You watch as he grabs the only book he can find— The Language of Flowers— and cracks it open to the title page to scribble your name down in pencil before shoving the book under the counter and out of sight.

“I feel bad that you’ve just, uh, defaced a book because of me,” you say. “You didn’t have to write it down, I was just kidding? I know not everyone is as forgetful as me.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” he says. “It’s my book. I can write what I want in it. The, um, the logbook seems to have gone missing,” he continues, staring at his hands as he scratches his palm. “Yoongi-hyung must have moved it. I’ll, uh, write your name when he comes back with it. Yeah.”

“Yoongi? Is that your boss?”

“Hyung? Sort of. He owns Spring Day but he basically treats me like a co-owner, I guess.”

“Oh, wow, that sounds so cool, even if it must be a lot of responsibility.” You smile softly at the florist. “He must really trust you.”

He glances up from his hands, eyes warm when he spots the expression on your face. “Yeah,” he says, smiling back. “I owe Yoongi-hyung a lot.”

“Oh!” Your fingers tighten around the handles of your bag, terrarium safely encased inside. “You know my name, and now I know Yoongi’s name, but I don’t know your name…?”

He flushes again, imperceptibly, the tiniest spread of pink on the apples of his cheeks. “I’m Jungkook,” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook,” you repeat. His eyes flicker and he looks away from you. You’ll have to work on that shyness— but you’ve always been good at coaxing people out of their shells. You’re unapologetically yourself, and that helps other people feel comfortable being unapologetically themselves, too. “Alright, Jungkook, thank you for the help again today. And the beautiful boutonniere.” You wiggle your shoulder so the flowers affixed to your chest shift a little. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.” He sounds a little breathless. “Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

Once you get home the terrarium is carefully unpacked and placed on your desk with your other plants; you’ve had to relocate some of your general filing clutter to another table to make space (the plants make you feel better than staring at a rose-gold in tray with letters that you need to get to, so whatever). You finally have a chance to look at that photo you'd taken earlier and fish it out of your pocket.

The background is a little blurry, not the focus of the shot, but you can see the neat pile of offcuts on the table, a small scattering of equipment. Jungkook’s hands, however, are in perfect focus. He has such lovely hands, from the pronounced knuckles to the subtle flex of his tendons to the pale blue veins that are visible as he holds the tiny bunch of flowers together and wraps them in ribbon. You stare at the picture for a little longer than you probably should before resting it against the peace lily’s pot, in eyeline as you begin to write.

(Lily watches, enraptured, as Yunhee prepares the sprigs of herbs and flowers that she hangs from the kitchen’s low ceiling. Her pretty hands are so fast as they bring the dried flora together, encircling each bunch with twine, quick and delicate. Careful. Reverent.

“Would you like a go?” Yunhee has seen her watching and holds up a spray of dried lavender rosemary, colours muted from their usual brightness, but no less pretty. “I can teach you, if you’d like.”

Lily smiles. “I would love that.”)

--

“What do I want in my bouquet? Hmm… that’s a tough one. What’s your favourite flower?”

You’re back at Spring Day the day after buying your terrarium, and once again, Jungkook is there. You’d caught a brief glimpse of another man on your way in, his hair a bleached-blond mess, but he seems to have disappeared— although his apron has been cast haphazardly over the back of the wicker chair behind the counter so you don’t think he’ll be gone too long.

Jungkook pauses. “I don’t know if I could choose just one,” he says. “But if I had to, I’d say the tiger lily.”

“Oh!” You point at his arm. His t-shirt today seems to be as baggy as the rest of his clothing choices but it leaves his lower arms visible. “Is that the tattoo you have?”

Jungkook turns his arm towards you so you can see it properly, the delicate lines of the lily blooming across his skin, and you can see the scratched lines of some words silhouetted behind it, ones you hadn’t spotted before. “Yeah.” He’s smiling. “It’s my birth flower.”

“That’s so pretty,” you say, awed. “What do the words say?”

Jungkook’s been less shy today, but when you ask this, he seems bashful. “Please love me.” He traces the words with his finger, the letters hidden behind the large petals of the flower. “It’s what the tiger lily means.”

He keeps his gaze averted from you, staring at the black and grey lines that bloom across his skin. You’ve barely scratched the surface of Jungkook, but there’s something so… so fascinating about him. Undeniably powerful and masculine, yet still so soft and considerate. Romantic.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, truthfully. “Both the tattoo and its meaning.”

Jungkook smiles shyly. “Thanks,” he says. “I’m glad you like it. I, um, drew it, actually.”

You’ve been staring at his arm but when he says this, you reel back. “You designed that tattoo? Jungkook. Are you telling me you can sing and draw?” When he doesn’t respond, still shy, you giggle. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I know the truth.”

“So what would you like in your bouquet?” Jungkook’s clearly trying to change the subject and you laugh.

“I have no idea. I’m a dunce and you’re the expert, so I’ll let you do the heavy lifting,” you say. “How about something with some tiger lilies?”

The tiger lilies are beautiful, vivid oranges flecked with brown; Jungkook lets you select the ones you want, accepting the flowers from you carefully as you pluck them from the buckets and then laughing at yourself when you end up with water spattered over your shoes, dripping down the long stems. After that you let him take over and he chooses the other flowers to bulk out your arrangement, mulling over each decision before he seems content with his choices.

“I can recognise the roses and lilies, but what are the others?” You ask, intrigued.

“Roses, hypericum berries, tiger lilies, orange lilies, goldenrods, and some greening for filler.” He lifts each flower up as he lists them off for you, a cascading gradient of red to cerise to orange to yellow. “Do you want me to change them?”

“No.” Your voice is gentle. “It’s perfect. It’s just like a sunrise. I love them.”

Jungkook’s responding smile is wide enough to show his teeth and squeeze his eyes.

There’s something soothing about watching him work. His eyes are entirely focused as he puts everything in its place, uncompromising when it comes to his perfectionism; things will look fine to you but he’ll seem to think differently and shift things around until it passes his rigorous standards. You want to take a photo. Not just of his hands, but of all of him— the little furrow of his brows, the intense look in his eyes, the tiniest pout on his lips; the softness of his hands, the tenderness of his fingers, the relaxation of his shoulders. Someone who’s intent on perfecting his craft but finds joy in its practiced motions.

You're just considering risking it all to ask him if you can take a photo when you're (thankfully) interrupted.

“That’s a pretty bouquet,” someone drawls. “What’s the occasion?”

The other man has appeared out of the back room. His eyes are fox-like but his mouth is soft and his fluffy white jumper seems even softer, fuzzy against the dark apron that he loops back over his head.

“Hi, Yoongi-hyung. Um.” Jungkook glances up at you. “Is it… for… a partner? Or someone else?”

“Nope, just thought I’d treat myself. Is that weird?”

Yoongi looks at you consideringly, clearly thinking something, before he shrugs. “Nah. You should tell your partner to step up their game, though. You shouldn’t have to buy yourself flowers.”

You laugh, trying to cover up your sudden awkwardness as Seokjin’s face flashes in your mind. Partner? You? Haha. “I’m single, so this is the only way I’ll be getting flowers, I’m afraid.”

Jungkook drops a handful of goldenrods. Yoongi’s eyes flicker over to him, watching as the younger man scrabbles to pick the yellow flowers back up. “Huh,” Yoongi says. “I see. Well, as long as you’re paying, I’m not complaining.”

You already like Yoongi, as forthright and blunt as he is, an utter juxtaposition to Jungkook’s unassuming shyness; he plops himself down and watches Jungkook finish putting the arrangement together, arms crossed as he leans back in the wicker chair. He looks a little lazy and a little sleepy. A cat reclining in the sun.

Jungkook finishes the bouquet by wrapping it in layers of brown and white paper, layering orange and yellow and white ribbons around the stems, pulling the sunrise of plants together with more bursts of bright colour.

“It’s so beautiful,” you say. 

Yoongi makes a small grunting noise of agreement. “Good work, Kookie.”

Jungkook seems almost overwhelmed by the praise and holds a hand over his face, a shy curve of his fingers over his nose and mouth as he coughs and pretends he’s fine. “It’s alright, I guess,” he says. “Do you want anything else?”

“No, that’s everything for today, thanks.” You beam at Jungkook, who smiles back; he’s so cute. “How much is that?”

Yoongi’s mouth opens but Jungkook speaks over him to tell you the price, which is lower than you thought, but— “That must be from the boutonniere discount, right?”

Yoongi squints at you. “Boutonniere discount?”

“You know, hyung, the boutonniere discount.” Jungkook’s voice is a little high. “The promotion.”

Yoongi stares at him. Jungkook stares back. You think Jungkook’s about to break in the face of Yoongi’s blank pokerface, but then he nods. “Oh, yeah, that one,” Yoongi says, slowly. “I forgot. The boutonniere discount. Absolutely.”

Yoongi lapses into silence during the rest of the transaction, and though he looks sleepy, his eyes are sharp as he watches the two of you. Not that you notice, too busy carefully accepting the flowers from Jungkook and hefting the huge bouquet in your arms, mindful not to jostle them too much.

“Thank you so much, Jungkook!” You tilt your head forward to breathe in the soft floral scent, smiling. “It’s so lovely. And it was nice to meet you, Yoongi.”

“Likewise,” Yoongi says. “We’ll see you again?”

“Of course!” On your way out you go to take a hand off the bouquet to give them a jaunty wave, but unlike Jungkook you can’t keep the whole thing steady with just one hand and settle with giving them a nod instead. “I’ll see you again!”

As the door settles shut behind you, bell tinkling as you go, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at Jungkook. “Boutonniere discount?”

“Shut up, hyung,” Jungkook mutters, embarrassed. 

Once you get home you unearth the vase Namjoon made you in his last ceramics class, unwrapping the bouquet and easing it into the water. You watch as the flowers come a little loose from the tight presentation and jostle lightly against each other as they settle into the vase. It’s a bright burst of colour on your breakfast bar, eye-catching and beautiful. 

These flowers should last longer than the corsage from yesterday, which had already started to wilt; you know practically nothing about preserving flowers but you’ve sandwiched the purple rose and lilac and baby’s breath between layers of tissue and squashed them between some books on advice from the internet, wanting to press them and keep them close. (Maybe you’ll frame them or something. That would be cute.)

You pause. You pluck out a tiger lily, disrupting the careful balance Jungkook had strived to create, spinning the flower slowly between your fingers. Your friends send you congratulatory flowers after each new book publication, but this is the first bouquet that’s ever been made specifically for you— not the you that’s hidden behind a pseudonym. You. Even if you’d asked for this yourself, Jungkook had been the one to choose everything for you. He'd been the one to put the thought and time and effort into it.

You stare at the tiger lily for a few moments longer before slipping it back into the arrangement, turning it so it rests just as it had before you’d pulled it out.

(Spring is turning to summer and everything is starting to bloom, the garden alive with a riot of colour, full of the buzzing of bees and other insects— drawn here just as Lily had been. But Yunhee finds Lily in the greenhouse, away from the noise and activity, quiet and contemplative as she stares around her.

“What are they?” Lily points at a plot of flowers that have yet to bloom. The yellow and orange buds are long and heavy, weighted towards the ground. 

“Tiger lilies.” Yunhee squats down and touches one of the furled flowers. “They’re shy to start with, but once they start to blossom, they’ll be some of the prettiest things here. Yes, that means you,” Yunhee laughs as the plant in her fingers seems to twitch. “They’re always so bold once they’re in full bloom. You just have to wait until you can coax them out.”)

--

“You seem to be doing better.” Jimin puts his coffee down. “Have you spoken to Jin yet?”

“Good god, Jimin,” you laugh. “Straight in there, aren’t you?”

Jimin fixes you with a stern gaze and you wince a little.

“Sheesh. No, not yet.” You fiddle with your napkin, curling it around the end of your teaspoon. “I’m starting to feel… like… kind of okay about it, I guess, but I’m worried that it’s going to be weird when I see Jin again.”

It’s been over a month since your confession, and it’s the longest you’ve gone without talking to Jin since you’ve met him. It’s… weird. You miss him so much. But you don’t know if it’s too soon to try and reintroduce him into your life, even if Jimin clearly disagrees.

“It’s only going to get weirder the longer you go without talking to him,” Jimin says, and you hate that you know he’s right. “You keep asking how he is, and he keeps asking how you are, and it’s obvious you both miss each other. I’m not saying you have to jump back to how things were straight away, but you can ease back into it, you know?”

You sigh. “I know,” you say. “It’s just hard, Minnie.”

Jimin, your oldest friend, had been the first person you’d called after your failed confession. You’d been tearful and honest when you’d said that it felt like you were going to hurt forever. But it’s weird how quickly that’s ebbed away, even if you still regret opening your mouth in the first place; most of the hurt you feel right now is from missing Jin, not from lingering pain about unreciprocated feelings. You miss your-friend-Jin, not your-crush-Jin. 

“You seem to be doing okay, though.” Jimin raises his eyebrows at you over his latte. “Anything to do with whoever’s sending you those pretty bouquets that’re all over your apartment, hmm?”

You splutter into your coffee. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous, I’m buying those for myself,” you say once you’ve wiped the coffee off your chin. “Me? Getting sent bouquets? Pfft.”

You never planned on becoming some sort of manic flower hoarder, but Jimin isn’t exaggerating when he says that they’re all over your apartment. You’ve even had to buy extra vases to hold all the bouquets and arrangements you have, every hue and shape and size of flora imaginable on almost every flat surface— only your desk remains untouched, sacred ground for your potted plants. You’d bought a rubber plant a few days ago, but beyond that, nothing new has been set on your desk recently.

It’s just… whenever you’re in Spring Day it’s like there’s no space in your brain or heart to think about Seokjin. It’s a place of respite for you, now. Somewhere you can go that’s untouched by the outside world. Somewhere you can go to be surrounded by beauty and life. Somewhere you can go to talk to Jungkook, the sweet, soft florist who’s slowly opening up to you, a blossoming flower, petals unfurling further with each visit.

He’s not always there. Sometimes it’s just Yoongi, and you like Yoongi and enjoy his company, but… it’s different with Jungkook. He’s growing bolder, less shy, and every conversation with him is so riveting; you eagerly gobble up every tidbit of information he feeds you. He sings. He draws. He paints. He takes photos. He dances. Everything he finds interesting, he tries, and everything he tries, he tries voraciously— he never settles for anything less than 100%. He puts himself entirely into everything he does.

He’s incredible.

Anyway. You can’t come away from Spring Day empty-handed, hence all the flowers that are filling your apartment. Even though Jungkook says it’s okay for you not to buy things, you’d be a supremely awful customer if you just distracted him by talking and then leaving again, so you always make sure to buy something. Even if it’s just a tiny flower themed bookmark that you don't need.

“I’m all for retail therapy, but why not buy stuff for yourself that doesn’t eventually die and wilt?” Jimin seems mystified. “That many flowers can’t be cheap.”

“I’m a relatively successful author, I can afford to blow money on flowers if I want.” You wave your hand dismissively. “Besides, my latest novel involves a lot of flower and plant related stuff, so I’m basically investing in my writing. I’m killing two birds with one stone: research for my novel, as well as filling the gaping hole in my chest by buying flowers for myself because I’m destined to die alone and no one else is ever going to buy them for me.” You finish brightly.

Jimin looks equal parts frustrated and sad. “You know that’s not true, Y/n. Just because Jin—”

“It’s fine, Jimin, I’m kidding! I’m kidding,” you insist. “The reason I’ve been single for the past billion years is because I’m just too much of a catch and people find it intimidating, I know.”

You’ve used fake, inflated narcissism and mocking self-deprecation as ways of protection for years. Most people take your confidence at face value. However, Jimin knows you too well to be fooled by it; not to mention he’s one of the few people who knows about your books and has read every single one so he’s well aware of all the schmoopy daydreams you keep close to your chest.

Ugh. This is why you write under a pseudonym. Autumn Lovett is allowed to enjoy clichés and have unrealistic and dumb romantic fantasies. A lot of their platform is built around it. Meanwhile the real version of you tries to pretend that you’re not obsessed with the idea of true love and yearn for it almost every waking moment despite how utterly impossible it is that you’ll ever find it. Because it’s embarrassing.

“I’m going to kick you,” Jimin says lovingly. “Right in the shins.”

“God, please don’t.” Jimin’s kicks are lethal. “If I say I don’t genuinely think I’m some sort of unlovable cave troll, will you promise not to hurt me?”

Jimin takes longer to think about his answer than you’d like. “Okay,” he says eventually. “You have to really mean it.”

“Alright, I don’t genuinely think I’m some sort of unlovable cave troll. I just haven’t met the right person yet.” Your words seem to pacify Jimin, even if they ring a little hollow in your own ears.

The truth is that, on a deep level, you do feel unlovable. It’s maybe a bit self-pitying, because you have friends who adore you and you know you’re worthy of love, but… it’s kind of hard to really believe that when you have yet to have your feelings genuinely reciprocated. There have been a few moments in the past, a few brief, fleeting connections, but never anything wholesome and real. You feel like you’ve been waiting for something that’s never going to happen. 

Besides, if it does happen, it’s never going to be as soft and loving as the relationships you write into your books, right? You’re a sucker for clichés. You love the idea of someone bringing you flowers, watching the sunset with you, dancing together in your kitchen to a song on the radio— every overdone and overused formula that’s shoved into every romantic film ever. You want all of it. (You’ve never been on a ferris wheel but god do you want to have a date that involves one.)

Maybe you’re still alone because you’ve been asking for too much. Not everyone is as lucky as Jimin and Namjoon; you doubt you’d ever be so fortunate to find someone who loves you as much as they love each other and express that love, too.

You’re still brooding over these feelings when you visit Spring Day later. Jungkook’s singing again, something smooth and lovely and mellow, and when he sees you he brightens— he cuts himself off, but not because he’s embarrassed, but because he’s happy to see you. 

Something inside you goes soft and warm at the sight. He’s so nice.

Still, despite Jungkook’s soothing presence you’re far more distracted than you usually are and he seems to notice this; you end up sitting cross legged on the floor of the greenhouse under the leaves of a monstera while Jungkook keeps flicking you looks between watering plants.

A few weeks ago, he would be too timid to say anything, but by now he’s grown far more bold. You’ve been encouraging him to speak his mind. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” You’ve had your head tilted back to watch the fluttering leaves of the monstera plant but you look down to turn your attention to Jungkook. He’s wearing a dark plaid shirt today, loose sleeves rolled up past his elbow as he hefts his blue watering can; he looks soft and approachable, eyes warm with concern. “Yeah, I just have some stuff on my mind, I guess. Sorry. I’m not exactly a great conversational partner at the best of times, so I’m being even worse right now.”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to apologise.” Jungkook hesitates. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

You let out a light chuckle. “Ah, you don’t want to hear about the nonsense I’ve got in my brain, but thank you. It’s very sweet of you to offer.”

“No.” Jungkook’s voice is surprisingly firm and you internally startle. “If there’s something on your mind, it’s not nonsense. I’m not saying you have to tell me if you don’t want to, but— please don’t think I don’t want to listen to you.”

You blink. He’s not looking away from you like he normally does— there’s a hard set to the line of his mouth, like he really, really means what he says and he wants you to know that.

“Oh.” For once you’re the one who breaks eye contact, glancing down at your lap. You’d found a lone daisy on the floor and you’ve been cradling it in your hands, rolling the stem between your fingers, and you watch as the petals fan out and shiver at the motion. “Okay. Thanks, Jungkook.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. His voice is gentle. You keep your eyes fixed on the daisy, and you can hear the slosh and drizzle of the watering can as he goes back to the plants. You take in a deep breath.

“What’s your opinion on romance, Jungkook?”

There’s a splashing noise as Jungkook fumbles with the can and drops it. Luckily it stays upright and doesn’t spill over the floor. “I, um, what?”

You look away from your daisy and stare at him earnestly, as embarrassingly open and raw as you feel right now. “What’s your opinion on romance? You know, love and all that.”

Jungkook pauses. 

“I know it’s a weird question.” You wince. “You don’t have to answer it. I’ve just been thinking about it.”

Jungkook stares at the watering can by his feet before he stoops over and picks it back up. He’s not looking at you. “How come?” His voice is a little strained, but you don’t notice.

“Ah, I don’t know,” you sigh. “I think about it a lot, honestly. Sometimes I just wonder if it’s realistic? Like, of all the people in the world, what’s the likelihood you’re going to meet someone that you really… really resonate with? And they’re going to feel the same for you? Part of me has always believed in fate, or like… serendipity, I suppose. Bumping into someone that turns out to be so much more important than either of you could imagine. A soulmate? In a way? But as time goes on I… I guess I’m worried I’ll never actually find that and it’s all a ridiculous pipe dream.”

You feel small and defenceless after admitting this. You might be a loudmouthed sarcastic clown, but underneath all your theatrical buffoonery and snark, the truth is that you’re an utterly hopeless romantic. It’s the world’s worst kept secret, sure, but you’ve never laid it out so plainly to anyone before. 

The longer Jungkook stays silent, the more awkward you feel, and you desperately need to break the tension.

“Bweh.” You make a little noise. “I get nauseous whenever I express real emotions. I didn’t mean to word vomit all of that at you, sorry—”

“I believe in soulmates.” Jungkook’s back is to you as he stands in front of a collection of osteospermums, but he’s stopped watering them. “And romance. And true love. I don’t think it’s always going to be easy, and it might hurt along the way, but… I think there’s love and happiness waiting for us at the end of it. Yoongi-hyung always calls me a hopeless romantic.” He laughs a little and glances over his shoulder at you, his expression warm and sincere. “I always cry at sad scenes in romantic films and books and he likes to tease me about it.”

He doesn’t seem ashamed about being open and vulnerable with you. It’s terrifying and yet Jungkook seems unafraid. Honestly, you admire it. “Me too,” you admit, your voice a quiet hush. “Everyone keeps arguing about if Rose could have let Jack onto the door with her but I’m always too busy crying to pay attention to how big the piece of wood is.”

Jungkook lets out a breath of laughter, nose scrunching as he smiles at you. He’s not judging your sappiness at all. “Titanic is such a sad film,” he says. “It makes my heart ache every time I watch it.”

You hit your knee with a fist. “I know! Why couldn’t they just be happy? Ouch,” you say. “Wow. I punched myself harder than I thought. I just get very passionate about happy endings. Sad endings— well, they make me sad, especially if the rest of the story has been sad too. What was it Guy Fieri said? I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.”

Jungkook blinks. “Guy Fieri said that?”

“Now that I think about it, I think it was actually Haruki Murakami.” You rub a soothing hand over your knee. “But yeah. I’m not saying sad endings don’t have a place, and sometimes it’s right for the story that’s being told, but… I’m more of a happy ending person. If I were James Cameron I’d have to let Rose and Jack end up together. I’d be too soft to write the ending he did, even if it was appropriate. You know?”

Jungkook turns away from the osteospermums, his eyes as soft as he looks at you. “Yeah, me too,” he agrees. “I think everyone deserves a happy ending.”

The monstera plant above you patiently listens as you and Jungkook have a long, quiet conversation about love and romance, and it’s… weird. You never thought you could have a conversation like that without wanting to cringe so hard you collapsed in on yourself and imploded into a black hole. Submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known is usually a lot more… well… mortifying, but somehow with Jungkook, it isn’t.

Maybe it’s because he’s so open himself. Maybe it’s because you can tell he’s not judging you at all. He doesn’t think your desperate yearning for love and romance is anything to be embarrassed about— and he clearly feels the same yearning. You find it baffling that someone as lovely as Jungkook doesn’t have someone special in his life, though. Wild.

“Monsteras are actually nicknamed Swiss cheese plants,” Jungkook informs you, running a hand over one of the leaves and trailing a finger over one of the holes in it. You're adding it to your steadily growing plant collection. “Because of these. They look like the holes you find in Swiss cheese.”

You laugh. “Oh, that’s so cute! I love that.”

Jungkook smiles. “I knew you would.”

He’s just finished tying a ribbon around the plant’s pot when he pauses. “Oh,” he says. “If you like happy endings, can I recommend something?”

He stoops down to get something from behind the counter and you can tell when he’s found what he’s looking for by how his face lights up. You’re hyped to see what it is, what’s gotten Jungkook so excited— but then he flips the book over to hand to you and you nearly choke on your own spit. 

Jamais Vu. Your most recent novel.

“I really love this author,” he says as you try to swallow down your coughs, eyes watering with the effort. Luckily he’s looking down at the book and doesn’t seem to notice. “No matter how difficult things get, or how awful things seem, the endings are always happy. Or at worst, bittersweet. They’re never completely sad? Watch out for the plot twist in the middle, though, that’s a rough one.”

“Hahahaha, alright, I will!” It was the first time you’d incorporated a murder mystery in one of your books, but damn, it had gone over really well with the critics. And Jungkook too, apparently, judging from the excited look in his eyes. “This looks, um. Interesting.”

He beams at you. “If you like it, I have the rest of their books at home. You can borrow those as well. I, uh, I've been reading them from the very beginning,” he admits, with a tiny, shy laugh. “The earlier books are skewed mainly towards romance, but the plots are always good too. If, um, you like that sort of thing.”

You feel faint. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Jungkook.”

Once you get home, you very carefully and delicately place the monstera on your desk, turning it a few times until you’re entirely happy with the position of it.

Then you lie face down on your bed.

Your breaths are fuggy against your pillow but you keep your face buried in it, even if it’s getting progressively harder to breathe. Jungkook reads your books. Jungkook reads all of your books. Jungkook is apparently an avid fan of your books— the copy of Jamais Vu he’s lent you is a hardback copy and the design on it is one you recognise as a pre-order exclusive. 

Oh, shit. Is it a signed copy?

You scramble out of bed to grab the book and flip to the title page. There it is, staring up at you: your own signature. Well, Autumn Lovett’s signature, complete with a tiny scribbled leaf. 

To Jungkook, you’d written. Thank you so much for all your support! you’d written. Autumn Lovett, you’d written.

You muffle a scream into your hands.

Even if Jungkook doesn’t know who Autumn really is, there’s no way he’s going to read your next book and not realise the truth. The tiger lilies. Yunhee’s dark eyes and dark hair and swift hands. Her strength and softness. Lily, magnetised by her, drawn in by her gravity.

(You haven't realised until now just how much meeting Jungkook has changed the development of your novel. Why?)

You’re at a loss for words. You honestly don’t know what to feel. Part of you feels flattered that Jungkook loves your writing so much. Another part of you feels like you’ve been lying to him the whole time you’ve been talking— pretending to be someone you’re not. Somehow. Autumn has lied to him by not being real, and you’ve lied to him by not letting him know the truth. Sure, you’ve only found out today, but.

The one person you’d talk to— the one person who’d help you muddle through your emotions on something as complex as this, as flippant and blasé as he might seem to people who don’t know him like you do— is someone you haven’t spoken to in over a month. 

Your eyes slide over to your phone. After your conversation with Jimin earlier you’d genuinely been planning on messaging Seokjin tonight; nothing major or big, just a dipping of your toe back into the waters of your friendship. But you need to hear his voice. You’re not going to offload on him, of course. You’re not going to make the first conversation you have after your confession to be all about you. But you just need that familiarity right now.

He picks up after one ring. 

“Hi, Y/n,” he says, and you feel like you could fold in two.

“Hi, Jin.” The sound of his voice fills you with warmth and tender affection, and you love him so, so much— but you know in an instant that it’s platonic. This cresting wave of tenderness crashing through you and making your knees want to buckle is for one of your best friends, Kim Seokjin. Your friend. “Hey. I hope you’re doing okay. Been up to anything interesting?”

You end up curled in your computer chair as you talk, your hand resting on the book that Jungkook has entrusted you with. It’s funny how talking to Seokjin comes so naturally; a month feels so long, especially after such a huge revelation from you to him, but it’s also like no time has passed at all. You think maybe you could go years without talking but the moment you came back together again, it would feel the same way. 

It’s like you exist on the same level. Like there’s some sort of unbreakable, connective membrane between the two of you. It’s why you’d fallen in love with him. It’s only now that you realise that you’d mistaken that closeness for romantic love, when it isn’t really, at all. It’s just different to your other friendships; deeply and emotionally intimate, but not romantic. 

“It sounds like you’ve been doing well,” Jin says. There’s the sound of sizzling in the background and you glance at the clock; he’ll be cooking dinner. He always cooks around now. “How’s the novel coming along?” Are you still in love with me? Are you writing about me?

You pause. Your flip Jungkook’s book open again, staring at his name written in your handwriting— months before you’d known who he was. Some tenuous, inexplicable connection before you’d even met. 

“It’s good,” you say, truthfully. “It’s not what I’d been planning, but it’s really good.” I love you, but I’m not in love with you. I’m writing, but not about you. Not really.

“I’m glad.” Jin’s voice is so warm. “You’ll have to send me what you've got so far at some point.”

“So you can point out all the inconsistencies whenever characters are cooking or baking anything? No thanks, already fallen into that trap too many times,” you say, and Jin laughs.

“If you’re going to write a character who’s a baker, you need to do your research batter,” he says, and you laugh in return.

“Did you say batter instead of better? That’s terrible. I love it, even if I wasn’t bready for it.”

“Your puns are so crumby,” Jin replies.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me?”

You both end up dissolving into laughter at your increasingly nonsensical and awful baking puns. The puns are weak and not even good in a bad way (as in, so bad that they’re good), but they don’t need to be. Jin takes longer to finish laughing than you. His squeaky wiper noises are a familiar sound through your phone speaker and you’re still smiling once it eventually trails off.

“I missed you,” you say suddenly. “I’m sorry. Not sorry about the confession, but— sorry it took me so long to come back around afterwards. I was just worried it would be weird.”

“I understand. It’s okay. I missed you too. You know I love you, right?”

“I love you too. Not romantically. Don’t get it twisted. I realise now that I’m way out of your league, anyway, so it’s a good thing you turned me down.”

“It was for your own good,” Jin says. “As the two most beautiful human beings alive we’d been too powerful if we were together, so it’s for the good of humanity.”

“We’re just so altruistic,” you sigh dramatically, and then you both giggle. “Can the world’s two most beautiful human beings get together for lunch? That wouldn’t cause a vortex in the space time continuum, right?”

“I think the fabric of the universe can handle it.” You hear the sound of Jin taking his pan off the stove, the clunk of metal. “Let me check when I’m free, sweetheart.”

(“You seem happy.” Jaerim’s smile is a soft, hesitant thing, but Lily’s responding smile is bright and wide.

“I am,” she says. Pinned to her breast pocket is a corsage of sweet pea, soft purple and pink and white, its gentle fragrance filling her senses. A reminder of Yunhee even when she’s not here. “I’m really, really happy. But I’m always happier when I can share things with you.”

Jaerim reaches out for her hands. His touch is familiar and warm, and Lily feels as loved as she always has— the way she loves him, too. 

As a friend.)

--

“You know, at this point I’m pretty sure you’re bankrolling the entire shop,” Yoongi says, and you laugh.

“I can always go somewhere else if you’d like?”

“Please.” Yoongi snorts. “I’m not complaining. Besides, Jungkook would be heartbroken if his favourite customer stopped coming.”

The way Yoongi assembles bouquets is different to Jungkook. He’s no less skilled and lavishes the same amount of attention on each one, but his arrangements always seem a little wilder, freer— not in a bad way, just different. He’s surrounded by an increasing collection of carnations and dusty miller, the silver leaves curling around the immaculately white blooms; simple and elegant arrangements for a small bridal shower.

“That’s good to know,” you say, ignoring the warm flush that spreads through your chest at the idea of being Jungkook’s favourite customer. Sometimes you worry that you’re overbearing, actually, with how often you visit, even if Jungkook never seems to mind. “I do buy a lot, though, so that’s probably why I’m his favourite.”

Yoongi’s just finished tying a trail of silver and white ribbon around the collection of flowers in his hands, eyes flicking up at you as he eases it into a small vase. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to keep throwing money at this place,” he says. “You’re welcome to come whenever you like. Without needing to buy something.”

You feel weirdly chastened. “Um, okay.” You laugh lightly. “Kind of a weird business you’ve got running if you’re not telling customers to buy things, though?”

Yoongi snorts again. “You’ve spent more money in the past few months than most customers might spend in a year.” He reaches for another bunch of carnations. “I think we’re good.”

The bell tinkles above the door. You glance over your shoulder to see who it is and your face lights up when you see it’s Jungkook, clutching a small cardboard tray of coffees. He looks boyish and cute today, his hair is a little windswept from the breeze outside, and there’s a smile on his face that only grows wider when he spots you. You smile back. You’re always so happy to see him.

“Is that my coffee?” Yoongi says, without looking up from the bundle of flowers he's holding. “Bring it here.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and you stifle a laugh behind your hand. Any shyness Jungkook might have had originally seems entirely gone now, and he’s unabashed when he pretends to disrespect his hyung, even if you know there’s a lot of love there.

Jungkook puts the cardboard cup out of the way of Yoongi’s work so there’s no chance it might accidentally get knocked over. “Here’s the decaf caramel cappuccino with extra sweetener and whipped cream that you asked for, hyung.” Jungkook gives you a conspiring smile and you stifle another laugh at the expression that flits across Yoongi’s face at the word decaf.

“Die,” Yoongi says mildly, before taking a sip of his bitter and untouched black coffee. “Perfect. Now, shoo, I’m busy. Go check on the herb display, I think they could do with some fertiliser.”

You keep hold of Jungkook’s cup as he mists the herbs, a tiny spritzer in his hands that he carefully aims at the stem of each plant. Unlike Yoongi’s black coffee, Jungkook’s opted for something iced, a creamy yellow blend with shavings of chocolate on top.

“If I’d known you were here, I would have gotten you something as well,” he says. You glance up to see Jungkook’s paused in his motions, hands engulfed in bright green basil leaves. It seems like he’s noticed you peering at the drink.

“Don’t be silly, I don’t expect you to buy me coffee! I’m just trying to work out what this is. It looks really tasty.”

“It’s a banana frappe. You can try some, if you want?”

You beam. “Can I?” You take a sip before Jungkook changes his mind, pursing your lips around the straw as the coldness hits your tongue and nearly gives you brain freeze— but then you register the sweetness on your tongue, the flavour of banana and vanilla and honey, delicious. “Oh, this is so good,” you breathe. “Where did you get this? I need this in my life.” You take another cheeky sip, eyes on Jungkook’s reaction, but he seems unfazed at the fact that you’re greedily slurping up his drink before he’s even had a chance to have any.

“There’s a small café a few streets away from here,” he says. “I, um.” He looks away from you, back towards the basil, before he pulls his hands out of the leaves and starts to mist the soil of the mint plants. “I could take you there, if you’d like.”

You haven’t seen him blush for a while, but that familiar tinge of pink is starting to steal over his cheeks as he looks away from you. Something churns low in your stomach, something almost like butterflies; a shifting of their wings, ready to take flight. “Oh,” you say. “That would, um. That would be nice.”

For the first time since you’ve stepped foot into Spring Day, you leave without buying anything. Instead, you leave with a day and time, hastily typed into your phone so you don’t forget. (Not that you would. How could you forget anything about Jungkook?)

You still haven’t told Jungkook who you are. Well— who Autumn is. He’d been so excited when you’d ‘finished’ Jamais Vu and had accepted another book from him, wanting eagerly to hear your opinion on it; it’s hard to not blurt out the truth to him, but you don’t know how to broach that topic. You’re worried that it’ll change this friendship you’ve built up with him and you don’t want to lose Jungkook. Even if you haven’t known him that long, he’s already so, so important to you, and you don’t want to let go of that.

But if you’re starting to become real friends, the kind of friends who get coffee together, who spend time together outside of Jungkook’s work— he deserves to know, right? You just need to find the right time to tell him.

When the day rolls around, you’re early. You’re always early for things. You skulk around the front of Spring Day, where you’d agreed to meet; you make sure to keep just out of Yoongi's eye line, ducking out of sight when it seems like he might spot you through the front window. You’re staring at a bucket of coral-coloured blooms when you hear Jungkook calling your name and you glance up, lifting your hand in a wave.

You almost choke on a breath. You’ve never seen Jungkook out of uniform, his plethora of loose, oversized shirts under a dark apron, nondescript trousers and plain shoes.

“Hi, Y/n.” The smile on his face is bright and wide, eyes squeezing into crescents. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long?”

He’s in such a simple outfit, but it’s devastating. His hair is arranged neatly under a cap, a leather jacket over the dark, tight shirt tucked into his jeans, blue denim nipped in by a plain black belt; there’s large rips at the knees, flashes of skin visible as he walks forwards, feet steady in black boots. It’s undeniably Jungkook, but it’s so different from the version of him you’ve gotten used to over the past two months, catching you completely off guard.

“Y/n?” He repeats, concerned at your silence, and you snap to attention.

“Oh, sorry! I was just thinking about, uh,” you glance at the flowers you’d been looking at, “peonies. No, I haven’t been waiting long at all, don’t worry. You, um, look really nice today,” you add lamely, unsure what else to say. 

“You do too.” Jungkook sounds like he genuinely means it, even if you’re just wearing a pretty regular outfit, similar to the sort of thing you usually wear when you visit him at work. “Peonies only flower for about a week, actually, if you wanted to get some?”

“No, no, that’s fine! Today’s not about flowers, today is about coffee,” you say. Your heart is hammering in your chest for some reason. A single butterfly lifts off in your stomach, taking flight with a flutter of its wings, flitting to and fro. “Take me to the coffee?”

He takes you to the coffee. He leads you confidently through the maze of alleyways, past more places you haven’t seen; he waits patiently whenever you ask to stop and take photos, watching as you stare in awe at an arch built out of precariously balanced tomes that leads into an old bookshop.

“It’s just so pretty around here,” you say, flapping your hand about to try and speed up the development process of a photo. “I’m sorry I’m taking so long.”

“It’s okay.” Jungkook’s voice is soft. “We’re not in a rush.”

He’s not just saying that to be nice, either. At one point, after you’ve apologised yet again, he steals your Polaroid from you and runs; you laugh at him when he refuses to give it back, taking shots of you while he dances just out of your reach, a cascade of photos that somehow turn out distinct and unblurred. Curse his photography abilities. 

You slap him lightly on the arm when he eventually surrenders the camera back to you and he just chuckles. It’s a long, looping detour on your way to the café, but you’re having so much fun that you don’t mind— in fact you end up having to be the one to get you back on track, tugging Jungkook’s elbow when it seems like he’s about to take you down another alleyway and towards the river, which you know is the wrong direction for the café.

“Coffee, Jungkook.” You try to sound stern but you end up dissolving into giggles when he pouts at you. “Okay, how about a compromise? We can get coffee to go and then come back this way so you can show me that market you were talking about.”

He brightens. “Okay,” he says. “We can do that.”

You almost regret saying this when you eventually turn up at the café; it’s actually a few stories up a building, a narrow set of rickety steps that opens into a light, airy room, naked lightbulbs hanging in constellations overhead, the entire wall behind the counter a massive chalkboard that’s covered in art of different styles and designs. The wall facing out onto the road outside is glass— the perfect place to unwind and people watch.

“Oh, wow,” you breathe. “Jungkook, this is so cool.”

“I know,” he says, smug and cheeky, and he laughs when you huff out a little breath at him. “The drinks are good, too.”

He’s not lying. He opts for another banana frappe, and after much deliberation, you decide to try the iced honeycomb latte. He refuses to let you pay and hands his card over to the barista before you even get a chance to reach for your bag, which has you narrowing your eyes at him.

“I feel like you prepared that in advance,” you say.

“Not telling.” He taps the side of his nose, which is scrunched from his smile. Inside you another handful of butterflies take flight.

More and more take wing as the afternoon goes on, each time Jungkook laughs or smiles or looks at you; he leads you through the market and shows you his favourite stalls, excited each time he gets to show you something he likes and enjoys, stealing sips of your drink when you’re distracted— but you laugh in his face and do the same to him, so it’s okay. 

Time flows by as easy as quicksilver, liquid and bright, and before you know it it’s turned from afternoon to evening, sky softening in deepening shades of blue and purple, the smattering of clouds a pastel palette of pink; you come to a stop by the edge of the river, Jungkook a few steps ahead of you by the time he realises you’re not walking beside him. He smiles at you as you lift your camera and take a shot of him surrounded by the sunset.

“I didn’t realise how late it was getting,” you say, and Jungkook blinks. It’s like he’s coming around to himself, like he didn’t realise either; he glances around and notices the shade of the sky before he pulls his sleeve back to look at the watch on his wrist.

“Wow, me neither.” He sounds surprised, and then he looks guilty. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you busy for so long.”

“Oh my gosh, Jungkook, don’t apologise.” You tuck your latest photo into your pocket to look at later. “I’m having so much fun, I just didn’t notice the time go by. It’s not like you’re forcing me to be here,” you laugh. “I like spending time with you.”

The lampposts have yet to turn on and it’s hard to make out Jungkook’s features when he’s turned away from the soft light of the sunset like this. But you can hear the sincerity in his voice when he speaks. “Me too,” he says. “I’m really glad you found Spring Day.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest. Jungkook looks towards the river just as the first lights switch on, finally dark enough that the streetlights come to life; there're trailing bulbs between each lamppost that flicker on moments after, points of brightness that flood the path below them. Jungkook’s face is shaded by the brim of his cap but he takes it off and shakes his head, running his hand through his hair now that it’s freed. Another breath catches in your throat at how utterly mesmerising he is. 

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your trance. “I was wondering,” he says, staring at the rippling mirror of lights on the water, the fading colours of the sky overhead cast in undulating reflections that shift from moment to moment. “You like photography, right?”

“I do,” you say. “Even if I’m not that great at it myself.” 

“I have a friend who’s a photographer and some of his work’s been accepted in a local gallery.” Jungkook’s running his fingers over the hard brim of his cap, running them along its edge. “The opening night is in a few days, and, um. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me?”

He finally turns away from the river to look at you. Jungkook’s eyes are so big and dark. For once you’re the deer caught in headlights, and you don’t even know why; it’s like this simple, innocuous question has reached inside you and stolen all the air out of your lungs. 

Even so, your answer is immediate. “I’d really, really love that,” you answer honestly, and Jungkook’s responding smile is so, so wide.

You forget about that final photo until you get home. It falls out of your pocket as you shrug your coat off to hang it up, and you stoop down to pick it up, fingers stuttering and going still against its white edges as you take it in.

Jungkook’s silhouetted by the evening sky behind him, in stark contrast to the gentle colours and yet just as soft. The shadows are a little blurred, and the colours are a little muted— but Jungkook’s face is clear, his eyes warm and his smile gentle as he looks at you. 

No one’s ever looked at you like that before.

At last the final butterfly flaps its wings and joins the others, your stomach full of fluttering.

--

Your friendship with Jin has miraculously gone back to normal. If anything, it’s even better than it was before your confession— you don’t feel the need to think twice about your actions, like you’re tiptoeing around him, desperate to keep your love a secret. It’s as easy as it used to be and you’re glad.

But you still remember how much it hurt when he’d looked at you and turned you down. You’ve moved past it, sure, but it had just cemented something you’ve known your whole life: how utterly unlovable you are. How wrong you’d been at reading signs, how you’d been in over your head. How every crush you’ve ever had has come to nothing.

You’ve kept that picture of Jungkook resting against your peace lily. His lovely eyes watch as you struggle at your computer, hours of typing stilted words and phrases that you read back and furiously delete. You bury your head in your hands, frustrated. 

Why can’t you write?

By the time Friday night rolls around, you’ve added a grand total of one (1) sentence to your novel. But right now you have more important things to worry about; it’s almost time for you to meet Jungkook at the gallery downtown and the maps app on your phone has been playing up. It’s not that you’re going to be late— you don’t actually live that far away— but you’re not going to be early, and you hate that.

You can see the small groups of people trickling into the gallery, the lights shining out by the entrance cutting across them as they step inside, but your eyes are immediately drawn to Jungkook. He’s been looking down at his phone but as soon as you start to approach it’s like he can sense that you’re there, eyes rising from his screen and zoning in on you immediately. 

You stop in your tracks. His face lifts and splits into a wide smile and you smile helplessly back. He’d said the dress code for tonight was smart-casual, and he looks so good dressed like this. You love his turtleneck jumper.

“Hi,” he says. “Wow, you look good.”

“Hi,” you respond, breathless. You feel winded from his compliment and from the blush that’s rising on his face, even if he’s keeping his gaze locked on yours. “You do too.”

You stare at each other for what feels like eons when someone brushes past you and it snaps the two of you out of the moment, and Jungkook coughs. “Um. Should we go in?”

It’s busier inside than you thought. The gallery isn’t exactly small but the layout isn’t entirely straightforward and people keep clustering in certain areas and getting in the way, distracted by the photos on display. You have to wade through one particularly large group of people to get back to Jungkook, who’s been waiting for you on the other side; he looks concerned on your behalf, and when someone makes a move to walk between the two of you he reaches out for your hand, cutting off their path. Your hand feels so small in his, so warm in his grasp.

“I didn’t realise there’d be so many people here,” he mutters, looking around. You entwine your fingers with his and he startles, glancing at where your hands are joined, like he hadn’t noticed that he’d reached out for you. 

You abruptly feel embarrassed and you’re about to let go when Jungkook squeezes your hand. You glance up and he’s looking away from you, back of his neck red, but he’s not letting go.

“I think Tae’s stuff is a bit further in,” he says. “Let’s go.”

You trail after Jungkook, who keeps his pace matched to yours. It’s a little quieter back here so it’s easy to find who you’re looking for; when you spot a man with bright blue hair he waves wildly in your direction and Jungkook brightens.

“Kookie! Hi!” 

Jungkook lets go of your hand when he’s swept into a hug, and before you can introduce yourself, you’re swept into a hug, too.

“I’m Vante,” the blue-haired man says once he lets you go. “But you can call me Taehyung. Vante is my photographer name. I think it sounds cooler. Don’t you?”

“I think Taehyung is a lovely name,” you say, unphased by how full on Taehyung seems to be. “But Vante sounds really cool, too.”

Taehyung beams at you. “I like you,” he announces. “Y/n, right? Jungkook mentioned you.”

You cough into your palm, trying to act like you’re not supremely flustered right now; when you’re not looking, Jungkook hits Taehyung on the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s right,” you say, looking up. Both boys have innocent expressions on their faces. “Can I have a look at your photos?”

Taehyung is an incredibly talented photographer. You don’t need to be an expert to know that. He has a series of scenic and nature shots, some in colour, some in black and white; he enthusiastically answers your questions about each one, about the background of them and why he takes photos of what he does. Jungkook walks quietly behind you and is content to watch as the two of you talk, chest warmed by how well you’re getting on with each other.

You round a corner to another wall, and Taehyung gestures dramatically at the collection lined across it. “And these are my portrait photos,” he says. “There’s even one of Kookie up here, even if he gets embarrassed whenever I mention it.”

Sure enough, Jungkook is blushing. 

“Take me to it,” you say firmly, and Taehyung laughs out loud before he does just that. It’s a black and white shot, Jungkook in profile as he looks towards the camera, endless ocean waves and sky behind him. “Jungkook, you’re such a good model,” you say, smiling softly at it. 

Jungkook’s gone bright red, and you’ve honestly missed this sight, even if you’re glad that he’s not shy with you any more. “Taehyung’s just good at taking photos,” he says, voice high with embarrassment.

“I have a lot more photos of Jungkookie that aren’t on display,” Taehyung pipes up, and Jungkook looks like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him. “You’ll have to visit my studio some time so I can show them to you.”

You have Taehyung’s business card carefully stowed away in your bag as you walk home, arms swinging by your sides; you unintentionally brush your hand against Jungkook’s, but before you can say sorry he’s taken it as an invitation to hold your hand again. The apology dies on your lips as he slots his fingers between yours and you smile at him instead.

“Taehyung is so cool,” you say. “And talented, too. I love his photos.”

“I’m glad you both get on so well,” Jungkook says. “Sometimes people seem to think Taehyung is… I don’t know. He can come on a bit strong, I guess.”

“He’s great.” You frown. “I’m going to fistfight anyone who’s mean to him.”

Jungkook laughs and squeezes your hand.

He insists on walking you up to your door, keeping hold of your hand as he follows you inside your apartment building. You feel somewhat abashed at how wide his eyes go at how nice it is inside here. You’re not on the same level as, say, Stephen King or George R.R. Martin, but you make a pretty decent amount of money from your books and it shows.

Jungkook doesn’t actually know what you do. You’ve vaguely alluded to the fact that you’re a writer, but that could mean any number of things; for all he knows you could pen the agony aunt column in a magazine (you imagine that would be pretty fun, actually). You keep waiting for the right opportunity to come clean about your pseudonym but nothing’s presented itself yet.

“Do you want to come in? My friend Seokjin makes killer brownies and I’ve got a box of them still in the fridge,” you say. “He always makes way more than I can eat myself.”

Jungkook seems torn. He wants to see inside your apartment, you can tell, but he also probably doesn’t want to seem intrusive— even if you’re offering.

“I hate wasting food so you’d be doing me a real favour,” you add, and Jungkook relents.

“Alright,” he says, and you smile to yourself as you unlock your door.

You’ve been giving flowers to other people, too— Seokjin and Jimin and Namjoon and even Hoseok have been receiving the gifts of your bounty— but only the premade bouquets. The ones that Jungkook puts together are ones that you keep for yourself. It’s far less overwhelming now than it had been a while ago, only a few floral arrangements here and there, but it’s obvious from Jungkook’s expression that he recognises each bouquet.

He ends up sitting at your breakfast bar as you dig the brownies out of your fridge, and he smiles in delight as you warm up some milk. It’s getting late, and you know Jungkook doesn’t like coffee, anyway.

(You’ve learned a lot about Jungkook in the past few months.)

“Which one is Seokjin?” He asks around a mouthful of brownie. You’ve retired to your living room and Jungkook is peering at the strings of fairy lights you have on the wall, Polaroids of your friends and family clipped along its wire. “This one?”

“No, that’s Namjoon,” you say. You stand up from the couch and scooch next to Jungkook so you can point. “He’s Jimin’s boyfriend— which is this guy here. That’s Seokjin,” you point. “All my favourite people. Ah, don’t look at this one, it’s me and Jimin when we were back in school. We look like such dorks. Look at our hair.”

“You look cute,” Jungkook says, and you try not to blush. “Wait, is that me?”

Your collection of Jungkook photos has been growing exponentially over time. The one he’s looking at is a picture of himself in Spring Day, bent over a bucket of roses, fingers cupping the pink flowers as he smiles at them; he’s said he’s okay with you taking photos, but maybe he meant when he was actually aware of you taking them.

“Um, yeah,” you say. You feel weirdly embarrassed. “I can take it down if you want? Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Jungkook’s staring at the glowing light next to the photo, avoiding your eyes. “I just didn’t think I’d be on the wall with the rest of your, uh, favourite people.”

Your mouth falls open. You don’t know what to say. Normally you’d scoff at him and say duh, of course you are, but for some reason you can’t summon the courage right now. The words catch in your throat.

Luckily, Jungkook seems to notice another photo. “Oh, is that from your school prom? Wait. Are you on crutches?”

You laugh, glad for the distraction. “Oh, yeah! Jimin persuaded me to sneak out of my house a few weeks before that because I was under curfew but there was a party we were both desperate to go to. Needless to say, climbing out of my window didn’t go so well. I was on crutches for ages after that. It wasn’t so bad, honestly. People felt sorry that I couldn’t dance so they kept sitting with me and feeding me cupcakes out of pity. They were delicious,” you say with a smile. “Never did get to do that end of school dance I’d planned with Jimin, though. That’s the only thing that was bad about it.”

Jungkook’s face twists. You’re too busy looking at the photo and reminiscing to notice, but you do notice when he steps back. You turn, confused as Jungkook holds his hand out and looks at you expectantly.

“What?”

“I know it’s a bit late, and I’m not Jimin, but you can have that end of school dance.” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows at you. “I promise I won’t step on your feet.”

You giggle, but you can feel a blush threatening to fight its way onto your cheeks. There’s a storm of butterflies in your stomach. “But there’s no music,” you say. “How can we dance without music?”

Jungkook shrugs. “I’ll sing for us,” he says. He steps forward, hand still proffered, and you slide your hand into his, unable to deny him. 

It’s been years since Jimin’s taught you the basic waltz, and you’re a little stiff because of it, but your body seems to remember the steps as Jungkook slowly leads you. You’re staring at your feet while Jungkook hums, but once you have the rhythm down he opens his mouth and starts to sing; you look up from the floor, your eyes helplessly drawn to his. 

His voice is soft and honeyed, words sweet as they hang in the air. You’re so entranced by the deep, warm brown of his eyes that it takes you longer than it should to recognise the lyrics of the song: 10,000 hours, transformed by Jungkook’s mellifluous voice.

He leads you into a turn, and when you come back together it’s a little clumsy and you giggle. Jungkook smiles at you as he continues to sing. The laughter leaves you feeling light and sparkling, like there’s a fountain bubbling inside you, and all the stiffness finally falls away from your limbs. The waltz becomes more of a swaying dance as you let your arms drop, Jungkook’s arm sliding around your waist as you step closer to him, and you end up turning in small circles in the middle of your living room as Jungkook murmurs a love song into your ear.

You suddenly realise that you’ve never been happier than you are right now: dancing in your living room in the circle of Jungkook’s arms as he sings to you, a romantic cliché that’s somehow become true for you. For you. With someone as incredible as Jungkook.

You’re never happier than when you’re with Jungkook.

Holy shit.

You’re in love with Jungkook.

The final note of the song lingers in the air as he comes to an end, the resonance of a bell that slowly fades. He smiles at you as you slowly come to a stop, still nestled in each other’s embrace as your feet finally become still.

“I’m so glad I broke my leg,” you say suddenly, and Jungkook laughs outright, face squeezing up in the way that you love so much.

You’re in love with him.

You watch as he slips his shoes back on. You feel helpless and untethered in a lot of ways, but at the same time, you’ve never felt more sure about anything. When he flashes you a smile, you can’t help but smile back— but that’s always been the case, hasn’t it?

“Hey,” you say suddenly, just after Jungkook’s finished shrugging his coat on. “I know you’ve just, um, gotten ready to go and everything, but can I quickly show you something?” Your heart is thudding in your chest. 

Jungkook blinks. “Sure.”

You give him a jerky nod before turning on your heel and walking down the corridor to swing the door open to your office. Jungkook follows behind you, waiting in the doorway as you flick the light on; he makes a noise when he notices the frame hanging on your wall, the flowers of the corsage that you’d dried and pressed safe behind the glass.

You don’t respond. You’re too busy taking a moment to suck in a deep breath and steel yourself before you open your filing cabinet to pull out a stack of papers, sheaves of writing that are stapled together— the very first, unedited drafts of each of your novels, kept for posterity.

“I, um, don’t really know how to say this.” You stare at your hands as you shuffle through the booklets. “I haven’t told anyone new in a long time, so I guess I’m out of practice, but, uh.” You’re so nervous that you’re light-headed. “Autumn Lovett is actually my pen name. These are drafts of my novels if you think I’m lying,” you say, shoving the paper at Jungkook’s chest; he grabs them before they fall to the ground. “Um. So. Yeah. Taa-daa?”

You feel like you’ve run a marathon. Your heart is racing and your lungs are struggling to take in air. You can’t look at Jungkook. You’re staring at the ceiling instead, dreading his reaction.

When he makes a noise, however, your head snaps down. He’s crouched in the middle of your office with your drafts held over his face.

“Jungkook?” You say, panicked, and he makes the same noise again.

“Oh my God,” he whines, muffled behind the paper. You squat down to grip his hands and pull them away from his face, worried; when it’s finally revealed he’s bright red and he looks mortified. “I can’t believe I recommended your own books to you,” he all but wails. “And I gushed like a fanboy in front of you about them too. Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

You don’t mean to but you laugh. Jungkook tries to hide his face again but you pull the drafts out of his hands and send them scattering to the floor. “Oh, Jungkook,” you say, overflowing with affection. “You don’t have to apologise. I found it flattering, actually.”

He doesn’t seem bothered that you hadn’t told him sooner. He doesn’t care that you’ve been keeping it a secret. He’s just embarrassed. He stays embarrassed as he helps you gather up the papers, and he stays embarrassed as you return your own book that he’d let you borrow, and he stays embarrassed as he heads towards your front door for the second time that night. 

“I do, um, really like your work,” he says, shy as he fiddles with your door handle. “I’m really looking forward to your next novel. I’m not just saying that to be nice because I know who you are now.” His eyes are wide as he looks up at you. “I mean it.”

Your heart feels full to the brim with fondness. “I know,” you say. “I believe you. I— you can have a read through it before it’s published, actually, as long as you promise not to leak it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen even further before he holds his hand out. “Pinky promise.”

You giggle as you hook your finger with his. “Pinky promise.”

Once Jungkook’s left you immediately sit down at your computer and write and write and write— it’s like the words just won’t stop. They come pouring out of you, and endless torrent that you don’t try to rein in. You write for so long you end up crashing at your desk, face smooshed against your keyboard as you drool in your sleep.

(“I don’t know how to dance,” Yunhee says, and Lily just smiles.

“Me neither,” she says. “We can learn together.”

They keep stepping on each other’s feet. It’s clumsy and messy and they keep dissolving into laughter between apologies to each other, but it’s perfect, because it’s Yunhee. 

It’s perfect, because it’s Yunhee, with Lily: because it’s them, together.)

--

“I’ve finished my novel,” you announce, and all the men at the table sit up.

“Wow.” Namjoon blinks at you. “I thought you weren’t due to publish for, what, another six months?”

“What can I say? I’ve been inspired.” You smile down into your glass before taking a drink of your orange juice.

Seokjin stares at you before he leans back in his chair. He’s always been able to read you through and through, and that perceptiveness doesn’t leave him now. “Ah,” he says. “You’re in love.”

You’re in the middle of swallowing your juice and nearly choke, spluttering. Namjoon pats your back with concern while his boyfriend looks askance.

“You’re in love and you didn’t tell me?” Jimin sounds affronted. “Who is it? Are they cute? Where are you hiding them? I knew you were lying about those flowers, you lying liar.”

“I wasn’t lying,” you wheeze, finally coughing the last remnants of orange juice out of your windpipe. “Well, I guess it was kind of a half lie? I was buying them, but, uh, he made them.” You fiddle with the napkin in your lap as Seokjin coos at you.

“You fell in love with a florist,” he says. “You’re literally living in an AO3 fanfic. That’s adorable.”

“Shut up,” you hiss, and Jin just laughs when you try to kick him under the table and nearly hit Namjoon instead.

“It sounds romantic,” Namjoon agrees, apparently unphased by how close he was to getting nailed in the shins.

Jimin slaps his small hand against the table. “You haven’t answered any of my questions, snake. I know what you’re like, Y/n— get the Polaroid out of your bag. We need to judge your new beau.”

Jimin’s right. He knows exactly what you’re like, the helpless romantic that you are; the three men shuffle their heads together to peer at the photo of Jungkook, the one where he’s surrounded by the sunset.

“He’s fucking cute,” Jimin decides immediately. “I’m almost offended you haven’t introduced him to us yet. You should invite him to our house-warming party. Namjoon agrees.”

You look at Namjoon, who nods despite not being consulted. “You’re so whipped,” you mutter at him. He just shrugs. “Anyway,” you continue, raising your voice over Jimin’s and Jin’s muttered conversation as they continue to stare at your photo of Jungkook. “I’m going to hold fire on the house-warming party invitation for now, because, um, I haven’t actually said anything to him yet.”

Your eyes are cast down as you say this, affixed to the sight of your hands in your lap. You’ve still been visiting Spring Day, of course, and you’ve started to see Jungkook more and more outside of work as well; each time you meet him you fall a little bit more in love. It’s almost terrifying how easy it is to fall for him.

“Y/n.” Jimin’s voice is sober and you glance up from your lap to take in the worried look on his face. “I know it must be scary—”

“Oh gosh, Minnie, I love you, but it’s okay, you don’t need to give me a pep-talk on how I’m a 10/10 and anyone would be blessed to have me,” you interrupt. “I haven’t been putting off confessing because I think he’s going to pull a Jin and turn me down—”

“Hey,” Jin says mildly. He knows you’re joking. You got over that ages ago.

“—but I, um, emailed him my book yesterday, actually,” you finish. “What he does once he’s finished reading it is up to him.”

Jimin is right. It is scary. But Jungkook is worth the potential pain and heartache. He is. He’s always so lovely to you, always so considerate; he sings for you and dances with you and he’s even painted for you, a small canvas covered in favourite flowers, ones that won’t die. Last week when he’d dropped you off at your apartment, he’d brushed his lips across your cheek before practically sprinting away, and your heart had exploded in your chest. 

You have no idea how someone as amazing as Jungkook sees something worthwhile in you, so it's hard to come to grips with, but there’s no way you’re reading this wrong. There’s no way.

The table goes quiet and then Jin leans forward and takes your hands in his. “I can’t believe you’re confessing to him with your book,” he says. “This really is an AO3 fanfic. Hashtag slow burn.”

This time, when you kick him, you don’t miss.

You spend the rest of the day with your coterie of doofuses and by the time you get home you’re ready to relax. You’ve just finished getting into your pyjamas, flopping down onto your sofa when there’s suddenly a hammering at your door. You sit up, startled at the noise. The knocking doesn’t let up as you approach the door and you’re wary, but once you look through the peephole you immediately swing it open.

“Jungkook? Are you okay?”

He’s wild-eyed and windswept and his chest is heaving as he sucks in air. You stare at him with concern as he catches his breath.

“Yoongi let me have the day off,” he says. You blink at him.

“Okay? Did you want to go out somewhere? Now? You’ll have to let me change, though, my pyjamas aren’t exactly great evening wear.”

“I’ve spent the whole day reading your book,” Jungkook says, and your heart goes still in your chest before it starts beating at double time.

“Oh,” you say. “Um. What, uh. What did you think?”

Jungkook’s face has taken on an expression that you’ve become intimately familiar with, a similar look to the one he’d been giving you that night by the river, soft and open and warm and— you can see it now, as time has gone by— full of love. He cups your face in his hands and rests his forehead against yours, dark eyes drinking you in, the smile on his lips so lovely and sweet. Just for you.

“I love you,” he says, and then he kisses you.

He keeps cradling your face in his hands, his lips moving against yours in a way that’s so tender that it makes you want to cry; you’ve never felt so wrapped up in someone’s touch like this, like you can feel exactly how precious you are to him just from the touch of his lips against yours. You know it’s a cliché to say that it feels like fireworks going off in your chest, but it does, every single one of the butterflies that have been nestled in your ribcage exploding into flames and brightness, sparkling heat that shines out of you every second Jungkook keeps kissing and kissing and kissing you.

Kissing Jungkook feels like every romantic fantasy you’ve ever written into your books is coming true all at once. You’re not unwanted, undesirable, unlovable: he wants you, he desires you, he loves you. 

(He loves you.)

It feels like every flower he’s ever given you is flushing to full bloom all at once, spilling out of your chest, brightness and colour and life curling around your heart. All those years spent quietly hoping, culminating in this moment: Jeon Jungkook pressing his lips against yours, keeping you steady as you lean into him, and you feel like all that waiting and yearning and wanting was worth it if you got to meet him at the end of it all. You’ve finally got your storybook ending.

No, actually— it’s just the beginning. 

You’re still standing in your doorway when you part, Jungkook’s hands splayed across your jaw as you give him a smile so wide it almost hurts. 

“I love you too,” you say. “If that wasn’t already obvious.”

Jungkook chuckles and you can’t help but lean into the sound, eyes slipping shut as you turn your head and rest your forehead against his jaw. “I had to reread some parts because I didn’t think I was reading it right,” he admits, and you keep smiling. “I thought there was no way it could be real.”

How could Jungkook ever have any doubts? How could Jungkook think that there was no way that you could love him? Does he not realise how amazing he is? How wildly lucky you feel that somehow— with all your flaws and blemishes and imperfections— he loves you back?

“What made you come around?”

“Yoongi-hyung took one look at the last page and threw a roll of ribbon at my head,” Jungkook says, and you laugh, and Jungkook laughs, and the two of you are laughing and laughing and laughing. You feel like you could float away, buoyant with happiness; only Jungkook’s presence is keeping your feet on the ground. “I hope you don’t mind that I let him read it.”

“It’s okay.” You tilt your head back to look at Jungkook. He’s staring at you like you’re the sun and he’s turning towards you, a fierce and beautiful tiger lily blooming in your light. “I wouldn’t mind if you sent free copies of the book to everyone in the world if it meant I’d have you at the end of it.”

Jungkook smiles at you. It’s bright and wide and his eyes are crescents as his nose scrunches and he flashes his teeth, and you love him. “Purple rose, lilac, baby’s breath,” he says, and you recognise the flowers of the corsage he’d given you, all those months ago. “Love at first sight, first love, everlasting love.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Shut up,” you breathe. He'd seen you as worth loving, even then? “Shut up. You did not— you did not confess that you had a crush on me with flowers? After we’d only met twice?” 

“Maybe I did.” Jungkook’s smile turns cheeky and you love him.

“I can’t believe you. I can’t believe me. You were literally reading a book about flower language, how did I not— god. I love you,” you say helplessly, and he laughs before he kisses you again.

(“I love you.”

Yunhee freezes in place and looks up at Lily with wide eyes. Lily is terrified of being hurt again, terrified of Yunhee not returning all this endless love that she has in her heart— but Yunhee is worth that terror. She’s worth that pain. Even if she doesn’t feel the same, she needs to know how loved she is. How brilliant and lovely and wonderful she is, her Yunhee, her love.

Yunhee opens her mouth to reply, and says:

-

How this story ends is up to you, Jungkook. I’ll be waiting. - Y/n)

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

So Sooga gets along with Revali, Sidon, Riju- what about Urbosa and Daruk? I don't think I recall the dynamic between him and the others. And I think Kohga is missing a few too- i guess im asking for headcanons here.

Oh good point. All of these are susceptible to change, so nothing is particularly set in stone.

Sooga;

Enjoys hanging out with Revali. He admires not just his talent, but the fact that he hides his insecurities very well. Match that with his quick wit and their mutual love for making fun of Link honestly makes them buddies. They like to train, have tea, and have a nice crab omlette (Sooga is on and off in terms of how comfortable he is, eating around Revali). Revali, along with every other rito (namely women) have a crush on him. Sooga just, fucking attracts birds for some reason.

Sidon is his close second friend. Big as he is, a lover of fish, Sidon is annoying in a sort of endearing way. He likes fishing, hiking, swimming, collecting shells with him. When they aren't having fun outside or fucking, you'll see them indoors, whittling while Sidon goes on and on about some story. Sooga likes to listen, Sidon loves to talk. They just work.

Riju. Riju is sort of like his niece. He treats her respectfully, but having grown up with six sisters, Sooga has the instinct to care for her. He takes her out for ice cream, he does her nails/hair, listens to her rant, and even helps pet sit Patricia from time to time (and Patricia LOVES him, she blows him kisses all the time). He's also kinda protective. A boy her age tried talking to her, he went missing the next day. Odd I know.

Urbosa. Urbosa acts like HIS older sister, and while women make him uncomfortable, he trusts her more than most. She's always there to give him words of encouragement, always there to help him against some rather hungry ladies- she just has his back. Sometimes they meet up for a nice dessert and talk about what they like in men (Urbosa loves ladies too, but women are lost on Sooga).

Mipha. Sooga and Mipha get along. They aren't at each other’s throats, but Sooga isn't exactly nuts about her. She finds him slightly imposing, he doesn't like being near women-without Kohga, they're awkward with one another.

Teba. Sooga and Teba actually get along pretty well. They're both rather strong and silent types. That is, until Sooga asks about the family life. They end up sitting next to each other, tending to their weapons, while Teba tells him what it's like to be a dad. They're quiet overall.

Daruk. Daruk and Sooga...they co exist. Sooga doesn't hate him, but he isn't a fan. Jealousy from Kohga aside, Sooga doesn't like that he's loud, brazen, VERY touchy, and is constantly trying to get him to eat. Suffice to say, Sooga would prefer anyone else's company (he was once in a room with JUST him and Mipha. It sucked).

Sooga and Yunobo. For some reason, he's chosen to adopt him too, and is constantly acting as his confident. He's constantly making sure he's eaten and slept, and is trying to help him come out of his shell. The 'he asked for no pickles' meme, but in an uncle way. Sooga likes to take him out to smash boulders during the day, and hunt for fireflies at night. Yunobo once fell asleep on him, Sooga didn't have the heart to move him. He had to see a doctor for his back the next day, but worth it.

Link and Sooga have a VERY competitive relationship. They've established early on that they're rivals, and as such, wanna beat each other's shit on a daily basis. They lowkey need to stop hitting each other and just bone, everyone sees it.

The Great faeries. Not champions, but imma include it anyway-they coddle the crap out of him because he's honestly adorable to them. He really. Really wishes they'd stop kissing him, just ONCE. They're all better than Malanya though, for some reason he fucking HATES Sooga.

Zelda. Sooga...does not like Zelda. I'll leave it at that. Let's just say you shouldn't leave them alone together.

Impa/Purah/Robbie. Its fucking on site with Impa, Purah is actually tolerable, and Robbie is just fucking annoying.

Kohga!!;

Kohga of course, LOVES his lil red fishy, Mipha. You kidding me? She's a cherry! An absolutely precious lil ruby! Kohga loves her SO much, she can pretty much just waltz into the clan whenever she pleases, and gets whatever she wants by asking for it. They're ABSOLUTELY bff's. Shopping, cooking, talking about boys and taking selfies, they're practically joined at the hip. I'm telling you, Kohga would end game any bitch if Mipha asked.

Daruk. Kohga LOVES the guy! Not just because he's easy on the eyes, but he's big, loud, rowdy, pair that up with his love for food, and these two can keep each other company FOREVER. Just, be warned if booze is allowed, and may god help your pantry. When they AREN'T raining hell, they spend time at the hot springs, and let me tell you, you've never seen two dudes happier, they're like pigs in shit.

Sidon. Kohga and Sidon get along great! Nice to look at, Sidon is also just a sweetie who just. Does whatever Kohga tells him to. Like Sooga, but dumb as hell. One of the few people that BOTH of them can hang around with. Seriously though, Sidon is a big dumb sweetie, Kohga LOVES it.

Urbosa. Her and Kohga get along, in a sorta 'let's meet for brunch on Sundays' kinda way. It's a casual friendship, and honestly? It's comfortable for them. He's still lowkey scared of her though.

Kohga is Riju's OTHER uncle. He's the more 'tell me about the boys you like' kinda uncle. Total enabler, he lets Riju do all the kid stuff she never really got the chance to do. You wanna play with chalk? Absolutely. You wanna get your shoes dirty? Course! You wanna eat all the candy and go pants a royal guard? He's IN.

Revali is an ass. Full of himself, snarky, and so in the closet, they bicker ALL the fucking time. They don't HATE each other, they just fucking can't get along. They fought over BREAD once.

Teba doesn't love Kohga. He's not quiet, he squirms a lot, and even if he's asleep, he tosses and turns a LOT. Teba just puts up with him, while Kohga thinks he's boring, but nice to look at.

Yunobo is more loved by Sooga than Kohga, but he thinks the kid is a peach. He teaches him how to talk to boys he likes. Can't help with girls though. Still sweet to the poor kid though, always brings him something to eat, because he worries.

Kohga LOVES Link! They both love food (especially fried bananas), Kohga loves Link's antics, Link loves Kohga’s funny dance moves- they just click. You'll often see them napping together after a buffet of food.

The great faeries! He LOVES them!! They're big, they're beautiful, they proud and loud- they are just his gal pals. He knows each ones specific tastes, and its so easy for him to charm the pants off of them during tea time. Don't tell anyone, but Malanya is his favorite, they love talking about horses.

Impa/Purah/Robbie. Kohga doesn't hate Impa, but the girl is SUCH a buzzkill. Instead of going and getting her a girl, she's here, scolding him for some random rule. Smh. He LOVES Purah though. They're TOTAL shutterbugs together, and they both agree that Impa needs to get a girlfriend. Robbie is also a TOTAL babe. Like if dude likes to experiment, Kohga can run some tests on that DI-

Zelda. Kohga...hates that he likes her. She's just a sweet gal, and with a smile like that? He can't hate her. He visits here and there for political reasons, but they do have lunch and catch up. Him and Sooga do sometimes help pick outfits/looks as well. And...well. The royal stables are a HUGE plus (seriously, Kohga SWOONS for her white horse. He jokes that he's more handsome than Sooga. He's half kidding, that fucker is a BEAUTIFUL horse).

[the-silentium]

Featuring a Cyborg and a Magician

Masterlist

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader, Hunter x Reader, Crosshair x Reader

Words: 5667 words

Warnings: Kayden is a warning of his own.

A/N: Let’s have some fun shall we? I decided that now was the time to include Echo if I ever wanted to include Omega.

Taglist: @clone-rambles / @mandaloriandin / @apathetic-catastrophie / @jenstar1992-2 / @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe ​ / @cherrydemon5 ​ / @and-claudia ​  / @lackofhonor ​ / @gaymasonjar ​ / @depthsreturn ​ / @koskareevesismyqueen ​ / @leonidas-banana-phone ​ / @mangoberry43 ​     

________________

"Ooooh can I come on this one too?" Kayden clapped his hands excitedly like a child, his eyes wide in anticipation and nearly bouncing on his seat. 

As it turned out, taking him with you all wasn't hard. It only required a Batcher to have your wooden crest in their possession for him to be able to follow them in a 3 klicks radius and his presence on missions had helped on the two previous ones he slipped himself in. 

Retrieving heavily guarded data was a walk in the park when you could have someone walk in there like a tourist, search around for his objective while ignoring the commands of the clankers surrounding him and laugh as the friendly fire killed a majority of the enemy forces. 

He even managed to detonate a malfunctioning bomb by walking right up to it, press the button to blow up the whole base and pop back into the Marauder in a second, whistling like it was nothing. Correcting the error in the programming would have taken too much time and the chances of a Batcher being hurt would have risen exponentially with each passing second. 

He was a precious ace up your sleeves… when he wasn't a shit digger. 

Unsurprisingly, his not-so-hidden talent was to create chaos wherever he passed. It was true back in Alryan, it was still true in the Havoc Marauder. Many new rules were created to ensure that nothing too awkward happened and to keep a somewhat control over the situation. 

Rule number one: Kayden had to be visible at all times when in the ship, the only exception to the rule being when people outside the Batch were around. Two: the barracks were off-limits as he didn't sleep and there were established relationships aboard that liked to have their private alone time. Then came rule number three: do not be a nuisance. This command encompassed the pranks, the whining and the fact that he couldn't be seen or else the Batch would be in deep problems. 

"General Skywalker is a Jedi, Kayden. What if he can sense you? Or worse, what if he sees you? What do you want us to tell him?" 

Cody's debrief has been short and a bit too vague to your liking. Usually, he was more concise but then again, you've rarely worked with Jedis before. In the nearly two years you passed with them, it only happened once and it was a memorable experience. 

Watching those two peacekeepers fight from your seat in the Havoc Marauder left you in awe. Their movements and grace made a straining fight look so easy and- "Dunno. That he should stop doing spices?" 

Kayden said it with such nonchalance that you nearly got whiplash at how quick you turned to face him, although you did choke on air at the mere idea of insulting a General that can use the Force.

"No. You're sitting this one out. We can't risk blowing her cover if he can link you to her and Fors." Hunter intervened while getting his armor on, just like the rest of the team. 

"He could be useful during the recon part of the mission." Tech pointed out, adjusting his pauldrons. "There are still a lot of unknown variables in this operation and his abilities could be desirable on the field." 

"Yeah what he said." Kayden's arms crossed at his chest. You rolled your eyes at his childishness and finished strapping your custom chestplate on to get to your rerebraces and vambraces. 

"If you can refrain from pulling tricks on everyone and follow orders that is." Tech added with a heavy look. If it managed to get his attention away from his datapad, then it was a really important point. 

"I can do that." You would have laughed at how definite he sounded, but Crosshair beat you to it. 

"Right." The sniper sneered and you smirked. Now that he could get away with pretty much anything, Kayden often took pleasure in disturbing the grey-haired clone and rile him up until you had to intervene or Crosshair would blow a fuse. 

"You ass-"

"The answer's still no. We successfully completed missions with bigger holes in them than this one. We'll manage." Hunter put an end to the debate just as he slipped his helmet on his head. 

"Yeah cuz y'all like big holes, eh?" Since he was losing, he retreated to his old habits. You kind of felt bad for him. You knew he was bored of staying on the ship. Hells, even you who were the assigned pilot had more fun in this thin can because you could actually fly it. All he could do was watch all days long and wait all nights long. 

"Better stop talking now." Crosshair too slipped his bucket on and grabed his rifle for a last inspection. 

"Or you'll hit me?" Smugness dripped from each of his words, a daring look in his eyes. 

"Let's not get there, shall we?" You showed him the Core between your fingers, that he knew you could control his density with. Wrecker happily tested your theory a while back. 

"No thank you." Kayden conceded defeat, hands in the air and slumped in his seat behind you, arms crossed. 

________

The recon went well if you based yourself on the fact that everyone was still in one piece, regs and Batchers alike. There was no denying that you were worried Crosshair would cause too much problem to the boys in blue. It seemed like there was tension between them and your abrasive boyfriend, but nothing too dangerous.

As the Marauder's pilot, you stayed behind with the ship and by extension, Kayden, who whined the whole time about not being able to enjoy his time as a ghost. 

"I'm still young! Now's the time to enjoy myself! Not when I'll be an old rat like that chandeler."

"Chancelor." You'd correct him on the title, but not on the old rat. You had to admit that he did give off that vibe. As for his age, you actually had no idea if he was still aging or not. 

You admired your work, the ship was in order, every supply has been replenished in the boys' absence, the fuels tanks were full to the brim and all that was missing for the ship to be complete was the crew of walking testosterone. 

A couple of hours later they arrived and you fussed over them. None were injured, to your relief, and everyone headed to bed for a short night of sleep. Everyone who could sleep, that is. 

You knew it'd be awkward to have a Jedi on board so you geared up quickly, wolfed down your plain food that the GAR dared call a breakfast and put your whole armor on, deadset on keeping your helmet on until the mission was over. Not even Crosshair managed to take it off you for a kiss. 

"It'll be fine." He'd reassured you with that soft tone he only reserved for his time alone with you. The following keldabe kiss put you more at ease. 

The effect only lasted an hour. 

Shortly after, the General entered the ship with his Captain in tow and you set course on Skako Minor. 

You had managed to lay low for a good part of the trip with your Bad Batch fashioned bucket on and some good old shut-your-mouth. The boys at the back kept all the attention, Kayden remained invisible and civilized, while you navigated the ship alongside Tech. 

Everything was alright until you felt Skywalker's gaze taking you in, up and down slowly just like the two Jedis a year ago. He analyzed you the same manner they both did, with an attentive eye and- you couldn't see it but you were sure it was there- a small frown. Your heartbeat picked up again and you forcefully swallowed the lump in your throat. 

Tech's theory about your origins being somehow mixed with the Jedis' must be true to some extent. Three out of three force users took a special interest in you and you were sure what got their attention was the weird wave of energy traveling between you. 

He approached the front of the ship and you could now see his scrunched eyebrows, his head slightly tilted to the side, still trying to figure out what was special about you. 

Heat raised to your cheeks under your helmet, every muscle in your legs contracted to keep you from listening to your fears of being separated from your newfound family and run away. There was nowhere to run anyway, you weren't in the jungle anymore. 

Would he try to invade your mind like Wrecker said? Would he find out who you were? Stay calm. Keep your mask on like in the village and it'll be fine. Calm your mind.

After more than a year on this ship, you developed the useful ability to distinguish who was walking where with the mere sound of the person's steps. Each clone had a distinctive footstep and right now, it was Hunter who moved to your side to save your ass. The sore muscles in your legs started relaxing, followed by the drum in your chest. You'd be fine. Hunter will have it under control. 

Then, right before Hunter could intervene, General Skywalker suddenly gripped his shoulder in a hiss, freezing the blood in your veins. The man looked behind him to find no one close enough to have hurt him and flee. All the others were minding their own business, while Hunter was yet not within arms reach.  

"What…" 

"General?" Captain Rex inquired after he approached at his CO's sound of pain, the confusion on his features reflected perfectly the one on the brunette's face. 

The Jedi stood silent for a moment longer. You felt the energy around him shifting as he searched his surroundings for something. Please do not find him. Please do not find him! 

Thank the gods Texh was actually piloting the ship, your attention so completely focussed on the General that you could have rammed into an asteroid the size of a planet. 

"It's nothing." He shrugged it off and reported his attention on you. "I don't think no one mentioned a pilot. What's your name trooper?"

Talking to General Skywalker was inevitable and you knew it. You simply didn't think that you'd be stuck in a Kayden-induced stress while doing so.  

"Not a trooper, sir." You removed your helmet to show him what you meant and offer him a sheepish smile. "My name's Y/N."

"My apologies. I didn't know the GAR assigned civilians to trooper squads." Again, he eyed you up and down, but you kept your cool this time. He didn't seem to be able to find what was wrong and didn't force an access in your head. 

"It's rare but not unheard of. Her abilities with a ship made her a good match for our team and the," He paused to search for an adequate word. "Type of mission we usually do." Tech elaborated on your situation. 

"And what type is that?" Rex came closer to get a good look at you and even offer you a hand to shake. 

"Downright suicidal, Captain." You managed to genuinely chuckle while shaking his hand in a firm grip. "I'd recommend strapping in, the landing will be a difficult one." You announced as the first turbulence racked the Marauder.

You silently prayed that this situation with the blue-eyed Jedi would be the only difficult part of the mission. Helmet back on, you showed off your skills by landing the ship in a raging storm. 

_______

There was very little you could do for Echo without using the Core. After reading through the whole Forsian book about its powers, you learned that it could be used to heal dying planets and basically anything in the galaxy. 

Your desire to create or heal a planet was extremely low. However, your desire to heal your comrades was very high. Instead of creating life and whatnot, you used the Core to heal their wounds and keep them safe. So far, no one had been on the verge of death so the crystal passed its time tucked in your pocket that was now closed with a zipper to ensure that it did not slip out.

The book didn't tell whether or not using the Core affected the Force so you refrained from using the golden rock on Echo seeing as Tech and yourself highly supposed that it did, as it was said that the Force was connected to every form of life and the Core was the initial creator of life. There was no way you'd leave hints for General Skywalker to pick. 

Echo went off a while ago, looking paler than Kayden, to barge in a strategic debrief with too many Generals for you to ever consider following him. Now that the ship was only composed of members of the Bad Batch, reprimands were in order. 

"You hit the General?!" Despite keeping his voice down, the strength in his tone unconsciously caused you to press further into the cushion of your seat in the cockpit.

"I pinched him because he made her uncomfortable." Kayden popped on the Sergeant's left with a scowl of his own. To his credit, he did stay with you in the ship and followed Hunter's orders. You were sure he would have sneaked the crest on someone's backpack like he did on the very mission he attended. 

"I was going to intervene." You let them bicker, instead turning to Tech when his hand fell to your armored shoulder. 

"I get it that you've had another sort of connection with the General." His curious brown eyes met yours for a whole second. 

"Yeah. It was more powerful with him than with the others." You recalled, remembering how the dull hum between you and General Skywalker was way more significant than the one flowing between you and the two previous Jedis. 

"I highly suspect that the strength of the bond is influenced by the strength of the Jedi. General Skywalker is known to be quite strong Force-wise." He typed away at his vambrace too fast for you to keep up with his notes. Back-Up peered up at you with her dark eyes, her body wrapped tightly around Tech's vambrace to enjoy the warmth radiating from the electronics below the plastoid. "It seems like you can still feel a particular form of Force despite not being sensitive to it. Surely due to your legacy and your connection to the Core. It is the source of the Force after all."

You nearly yelped when a fist collided with your shoulder. Wrecker's playful punch didn't hurt as much as it scared the shit out of you. "Yes because she's a goddess!" 

You sighed at the perpetual reminder that you may or may not be as normal as you'd like to be. Wrecker's excitement was cute and all, but you wanted to be their equal, not some deity that could be perceived as superior or something. 

You knew your two boyfriends had been influenced by it at some point. He never told you, but you were certain Crosshair had been intimidated or would use the excuse of you being "better than he was" to belittle himself. He had started distancing himself a little, although you didn't let him the time to get too far and reassured him that you didn't care who or what you were, that all you wanted was to be his. Hunter found himself on the other side of the spectrum. He would often use the excuse of you being a "goddess" to worship you more than necessary. He didn't get it the wrong way like his brother, no, he used it to his advantage, whispering words of adoration and how he could venerate your body all day long. You blushed at the memory of your last worshipping session. 

"Am not!"

"You are!"

"Am not!" 

"You brought Kayden back! And you healed my blaster burn the other week and you helped that village on Ruusan when their entire crops have been destroyed by the clankers!" 

You bit your lip at the reminder of what you did. Tech had been against your intervention, saying that miraculously reappearing crops would be awfully suspicious and could be easily linked to the team. You'd listened in the beginning, but as the day passed, you noticed more and more people hurting from hunger. Kids who couldn't understand why they couldn't satisfy their rumbling stomachs cried their hunger, mothers did their best to not seem affected but from a sharp, adult eye, their suffering was clear. 

You weren't an idiot. New crops didn't magically grow back in under a minute. No, deep down you wished that there was a nearby undiscovered meadow, hidden in the dense vegetation, where juicy fruits grew in the trees and small preys liked to play. Edible fungus pullulated through the grass amongst the root vegetables that were already ready to be harvested. 

It had been 100% unintentional. You'd thought that this could have been a good idea and the next thing you knew, a kid came back running with two round fruits in his hands, holding them like they were treasures and claiming that there was “infinite” more. Needless to say, the kid's overstatement gave you a heart attack and won you a lecture by not only Tech but Hunter too. Up to this day, you never regretted accidentally helping them. Not when the kids were cheering in glee at the food and the moms were relieved to the point of spilling some tears. 

"She's a what who did what?" A voice rang out from the Havoc Marauder's entrance, sending your heartbeat and body heat through the roof. 

Echo stood there in his new armor, courtesy of Clone Force 99's armor surplus from when Tech developed your own custom model, a deep frown deforming his tired features. 

For a split second, everyone stood there, frozen in place, until Crosshair harshly pulled the clone inside and hit the buttons near the door to lift the ramp. Should have done that sooner. You could at least be relieved that he was alone and not accompanied by either his Captain or General. 

"Who's that?" Echo added once he realized he'd walked in a confidential conversation and that everyone was wracking their brains to find a suitable lie. His features hardened from confusion to suspicion as he shook Crosshair off his arm and stood straighter. 

Kayden, who was still poking Hunter's chest plate, clapped his hands once and kept them pressed together. "No one." There was an awkward pause as he met yours and Hunter's gaze and turned to Echo with a wink. "Don't do spices." He uselessly added before vanishing. 

The gloved hand flying to your forehead was purely unintentional. Idiot! 

"What was that?! Where did he go?" The clone took a step backward, his eyes moving around frantically. 

"He's- eh-" Hunter was the first to attempt to defuse the situation. He was a good liar. Knew what signs to avoid, how to keep his vitals as normal as possible and had quite a quick reply. The thing was, Echo had had enough time to see that Kayden wasn't just the fruit of his imagination and the moron even talked. The alarmed expression on Wrecker's face wasn't helping either. 

Considering all the factors, you decided that Hunter's lie would not do. "Echo, calm down. Let us explain." You abandoned your seat to get closer. 

"How can I trust what you say when you hide things from the GAR and that- the man that was there- he…" He tripped on his words and guilt washed over you. The poor man passed years at the Techno Union's mercy, was brainwashed, butchered up and patched back up with mechanical pieces. He was already lost and confused and what he overheard wasn't helping. 

"Big words coming from you." Your jaw tightened as soon as Crosshair cut him off, the toothpick between his lips moving from one side of his mouth to the other. 

Echo bristled at the attack. "What does that mean?" 

"You've been a Separatist puppet for quite some time, selling the GAR every time you could. Now, how do we know you won't be selling us out?" He grabbed his toothpick and threw it with a flick to the white and blue chestplate before you could even lift your hand to stop him. 

"I wasn't in control! I'd never betray the GAR and my brothers!" 

"Cross, stop." You put yourself between the sniper and the once reg, your right hand falling on the grey plastoid to keep him at bay and maybe calm his arrogance. You knew his whole demeanor was because he was worried you'd be taken away if Echo decided to report you and what happened with Kayden. You were worried too. Scared even. But it wasn't Echo's fault and you couldn't hold it against him. Talking about such things when still on base had been stupid and reckless. 

Crosshair didn't meet your eyes but you knew he'd not interfere when the muscles in his neck relaxed. Your hand fell to your side and you turned to Echo. "My instinct tells me that you're trustworthy, so listen. What I'll tell you must not be repeated outside the Marauder and to no one else."

"Y/N-" Hunter tried to talk you down from telling the truth, a hand softly grabbing on your shoulder to catch your attention. 

"It's alright. Echo's a good one." You smiled warmly at the tattooed clone. "I'm not a goddess," You shot a look at Wrecker who nodded his head in contradiction. "But I can create some things at will. Like crops and such." You intentionally forgot to mention the Core. You trusted your gut, but let's not forget that the Lumsins fooled you once. "And the guy you saw was Kayden. He's- eh…"

"Your brother." A voice rang out from nowhere and everywhere, scaring Echo who jumped and hit a console with his elbow. 

Silently wishing he did not hit his funny bone, you continued. "Adopted. But yeah. He's that. And he's technically dead." 

His eyes grew wide and once again, he seemed to struggle to find the right words."Wh- Did you say dea-" 

Sharp knocks on the side of the ship cut the conversation short. "Permission to get in? I hope you're all ready in there!" 

Everyone straightened, multiple pairs of eyes fell on the 501st trooper to see how he'd react. Against a majority of the expectations aboard the Marauder, Echo kept his mouth shut. 

"Of course General! Sorry about the ramp!" You answered the man outside the door before quickly glancing back at Echo. "If you keep this for yourself, I'll explain more later." You promised and even offered your hand to seal the deal. 

After looking at the boys behind you that you were sure looked back at him with hard looks and maybe some distrustful gazes, he nodded once, shook your hand and stepped aside so you could lower the ramp for the blue Captain and his General. 

"Welcome back." You smiled before hurrying away to your seat, away from the weird buzzing energy that roared to life once the Jedi walked up the stairs.  

______

Flying right towards a Separatist fleet messed with your nerves. Even though you'd previously mentioned trusting the robot-clone, Kayden could easily feel the doubt snaking its way into your mind. Despite everything, you remained calm and focused on your task. As soon as the droid called your permission to land on their big-ass ship, the brunette felt a new wave of pride wash away your worry. 

He had to admit, so far your guess had been right. The clone kept his word and didn't mention Kayden or the fact that you were a goddess to any of the men that radiated authority more than testosterone. Because yes, you were a god damn goddess despite you denying it like a vegan that claims to have never cheated on their crazy diet. 

So far, you were the only member of the Bad Batch who trusted Echo. Even Wrecker was still torn between accepting the new guy or following his brothers' judgment. As usual Crosshair was nasty towards everyone, Hunter was more on his guard than anything else and Tech, well, Kayden didn't like feeling Tech's emotions. They were so fast and too much was happening at the same time that it gave him terrible headaches. From the look he exchanged with Hunter, though, it was easy to tell how he felt about Echo. 

Guess they're like that for every outsider that joins the bubble, Kayden thought. He watched as you landed upside down under the belly of the cruiser and gave your signal to the rest of them. 

Time to go! 

Sneaking the crest into Wrecker's backpack had been terribly unchallenging. Everyone was concentrated on the mission or on Echo, leaving him all the time in the world to fetch the necklace from under your pillow- yes, he wasn't supposed to be in this room but who listens to rules anyway-  pass through the barracks doors and discreetly make his way to Wrecker. No one saw the flying piece of wood and now he could get off this damn ship and maybe even enjoy his time outside. 

Kayden jogged and ran with the group, staying invisible for any mortal and mechanical eyes. He watched as Echo proved his loyalty to the Republic and got zapped when he pushed his luck. 

So far, he'd been pretty disappointed. He thought a cruiser this size would swarm droids of all sorts, giving him some reason to be out and about. Then Skywalker ran away and the action began. He didn't know if he still had veins and adrenaline, but Kayden felt a surge of energy flow through his whole being. Let the fun begin!

He walked two corridors down so he would not be seen by Rex still following the Bad Batch and messed with the droids' internal circuits. He discovered that his new ghost status allowed him to disrupt electronic systems. Tech wasn't too happy about his learning method, but it was a necessary process.  

To his delight, the droids fell like flies under his ministrations and he got to return invisible before the clones even turned the corner. He waited for them, leaning onto the wall with a smug grin on his face. Hunter will love this. 

"What happened here?" The blue trooper's steps faltered as he took in the scene. Hunter shook his head with a low grunt while Tech crouched to assess the nearest robot. The Bad Batch already knew what happened, but needed to put on a show nonetheless. The wave of displeasure radiating off every single one of them minus Wrecker nearly made him laugh. 

"They seem to have malfunctioned, somehow." Tech provided his best half-truth. There wasn't time to ponder more on the matter as more droids marched their way and thus, Rex accepted the explanation and passed to the next problem. 

"There's too many of them!" Kayden scoffed at Rex's statement. Not for this team, bud.

To Kayden's joy, Wrecker got into position. This was his cue. 

"Mind a little help?" He smirked at Crosshair who was currently sniping through his body to hit some targets behind him. From his place right over the corner, there was no way Rex could see him. It wasn't the case for Hunter. 

"Hell yeah!" Wrecker cheered before charging the first droid. 

"Kayden, no." Hunter growled so low he nearly missed it. 

"Kayden, yes." He laughed as he popped at the other end of the hallway filled with droids. Wrecker charged at the B-1s, quickly making his way to Kayden's position as he walked between the yellow robots and worked his magic. 

He was taking down his 7th victim when movement and loud approaching steps caught his attention. A large pile of droids charged his way and would have knocked him over had he not made himself intangible. 

He couldn't control the laugh bubbling out of his mouth at seeing Wrecker throw the droids everywhere. Since the last enemy standing was shaking in fear, Kayden took it as his cue to disappear once more. 

"I heard someone." Rex peaked in the scrap-filled hallway, his head moving right and left to try and identify what caught his ears. 

"Wrecker?" Hunter asked with an impeccably innocent voice. 

"No, not him. It was a laugh. But it wasn't Wrecker." The man was on edge, his senses alert and gun at the ready. 

"Didn't hear anything, Captain." Hunter turned to meet Echo's frowning gaze. Brownie points right there! The peak of gratefulness escaping the long-haired clone was subtle, just enough to breach through his irritation. "Perhaps a defect in your helmet, sir." 

He knew he'd be in trouble later but it was worth it. Doing nothing on their ship was boring him out of his mind. Maybe he should ask you to get him some wood and wood scissors so at least his nights would be interesting instead of playing with his thumbs and doing castles with the toothpicks he found here and there. 

Kayden stayed behind with Crosshair, still invisible to not disturb the guy. Not that he cared, but he was curious to see how the small mirrors he threw on the walls would help. Knowing the sniper, they were all placed perfectly where they should be even if the pattern seemed random. 

He may not like the hard-ass clone very much, but he wasn't ashamed to admit that his skills were impressive. They got to the infiltration point where the others were waiting, Skywalker amongst them, and Crosshair got into position. The thought of moving the first mirror passed through Kayden's mind and prickled at his fingertips. 

Hunter was a nice target to pick on. Crosshair, not so much. 

The mirror stayed in place, allowing Crosshair to execute his awfully impressive shot and take down every single droid marching their way. Without an ounce of doubt, Kayden knew his face was mirroring Wrecker's. 

Back in the ship, it didn't take long for Crosshair to find the crest in Wrecker's bag and shove it into Hunter's hands who closed his fist around it. Oopsie. 

You piloted the ship back to the GAR base and gracefully landed in the hangar, something Tech never learned to do or didn't care to execute. 

Rex and Skywalker exited the ship, the rest of the troops slower to follow. 

"Nice job cyar'ika." Hunter carefully touched your helmet with his, once the two men walked out. Both your foreheads touched for a whole second and Kayden felt the bile rise in his throat.

"You boys did all the work as usual." You laughed, your hand lifting to cradle the side of his neck. 

From his invisible spot near the door, Kayden saw Echo do a double-take in the corner of his eyes before following Rex down the ramp, Wrecker and Crosshair behind him. 

Hunter threw the crest in the barracks, clearly hoping to keep Kayden in the ship while they had to follow their superiors. 

Joke's on you! Kayden internally laughed as they stopped within his 3 klicks radius and received their praises.

Just because you were there and still felt uncomfortable whenever weird people with weird energy were around, he remained from doing shits around the hangar. Then it was time to pack up and go. He did look forward to being visible again, it did consume more energy and was a bother to not be able to pull pranks as he did before, but he could interact with people and it was worth it. Hunter's lecture would be a hassle though. 

Maybe he should look around for a crate to push on someone before the fun time was over. 

Echo, who apparently decided to trust you all despite not knowing the whole truth about you and him, joined the ranks of the infamous Clone Force 69. Watching you all salute, Kayden entertained the thought of kicking Crosshair behind the knee and admire him stumble to the ground. As hilarious as it seemed in his head, he couldn't find the courage to do it. 

You all got in, Wrecker removed his armor, Hunter disappeared in the barracks, Tech helped you pilot and Crosshair hovered over your seat. You removed your helmet and briefly smiled up at him. He kept watching you do your stuff until the Marauder was in hyperspace and the autopilot was engaged. 

Echo was still looking around, wondering what to do with himself. Kayden walked up to him, still too ghostly to be seen and waited for the right moment. 

You stood up to smile once more at the grumpy clone. 

"Now kiss!" Kayden loudly broke the silence as soon as he made himself visible and scared the cyborg. He closed an eye and moved his fingers so he was pushing yours and Cross' heads towards each other.

"Why are you the way you are?" You rolled your eyes with an exasperated sigh and moved around Crosshair to get to the barracks with the sniper in tow, a too familiar glare hardening his gaze. 

"Do not make fun of me because I was dropped!" Kayden laughed at your retreating forms. 

"Wait… I thought she was with Hunter…" Echo trailed off, confused. 

"She is! But she's a girl so she's predisposed to love triangles. Ya know, like in their anatomy. Boobs, south pole. Triangle." He traced a triangle in the air, using your body as a reference. 

"And wh-who are you again?" Echo inquired, frowning too deeply for his fragile features. 

"The Dimwit." He winked with the most suspicious grin on his lips before vanishing into thin air. 

Echo ran to the cockpit and stayed close to Tech for the whole evening.

[stupendousbookworm]

"I speak fluent English, French, German and bullshit"

"Do you think cinnamon rolls have a separate life before we eat them?"

"Rowan, can books fly?"

"What if every star in the sky represents a soul that departed from the world? I wouldn't mind ending up there"

✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦

Name: Ara Annora Rose Black

Nicknames: Ara Bear, annoying bitch, black, cursed kid

Gender: Female

Age: 16

Sexuality: bisexual

Alignment: Chaotic neutral

Blood status: Pureblood

Date of Birth: 18th February 1973

Ethnicity: French/British

Nationality: British

✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦

In front of the students of Hogwarts, she's the infamous curse breaker; a person not to be messed with. But in the eyes of her friends, she's the silliest and idiotic Ravenclaw known to kind. A girl with a dark past but huge ambitions, a sharp mind and a knack for attracting trouble, she's a chaotic person. But will she be able to find her brother and save Hogwarts?

✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦

Personality:

Brilliant: although she can be a tad bit daft at times, she's rather smart, and can solve problems quite efficiently. If she understands the concept, nothing can stop her.

Stubborn: she's pretty adamant when she wants to achieve something. She doesn't stop until she reaches her goal. It comes as both a blessing and a curse

Sarcastic: she can hurt you when she wants to. Her sarcasm is rather brutal, and she always regrets saying anything rude. She really doesn't filter what she says before saying it.

Musically talented: she can sing, and play many instruments, including the guitar, piano, saxophone, flute and drums

Short tempered: she really can't control her anger. She gets pissed off rather easily and it gets on everyone's nerves. It's all a part of her defense mechanism

Kind: she's the person who acts like a bitch but actually cares for you, and looks out for you. Don't worry, she's got your best interests at heart

✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦

What are her likes?

chocolate, cinnamon rolls, her Ravenclaw jumper, astronomy, her friends, coffee, old books, reading Shakespeare, singing, playing music, dueling, messing around with Tonks, Tulip and Jae, and sleeping

What are her dislikes?

being woken up, strawberries, Tonks eating her special banana ketchup sandwich, dungbombs, Mrs. Norris the dumb cat, when someone tears a page out of a book, and History of Magic

Where does she live?

Tonks Cottage, London, with Nymphadora, Andromeda and Ted

✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦

Appearance:

Hair colour: Black

Eye colour: grey

Skin Tone: pale

Height: 6'0

Weight: 118 lbs

Build: thin and lanky with a slight slouch. She eats a lot of junk food but it doesn't show because of her "good metabolism"

Aesthetic: astronomical, academia and grunge (?)

Inventory: her wand, a half eaten bag of chocolate chips, a old family heirloom time turner (that's rather faulty), black finger-less gloves and Moonshine the baby kneazle

Face Claim: Steffy Argelich

✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦

Magic

1st wand: Ash wood, 12 1/2 inches, phoenix feather core, great for transfiguration, nice and swishy

The ash wand cleaves to its one true master and ought not to be passed on or gifted from the original owner, because it will lose power and skill. This tendency is extreme if the core is of unicorn. Old superstitions regarding wands rarely bear close examination, but I find that the old rhyme regarding rowan, chestnut, ash and hazel wands (rowan gossips, chestnut drones, ash is stubborn, hazel moans) contains a small nugget of truth. Those witches and wizards best suited to ash wands are not, in my experience, lightly swayed from their beliefs or purposes. However, the brash or over-confident witch or wizard, who often insists on trying wands of this prestigious wood, will be disappointed by its effects. The ideal owner may be stubborn, and will certainly be courageous, but never crass or arrogant.

2nd wand: Ebony wood, 13 inches, dragon heartstring core, brilliant for dueling, very flexible

This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters. In my experience the ebony wand’s perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose.

Boggart: herself, but as a death eater

Riddikulus form: being surrounded by friends, who have her back

Patronus: Black Raven

As a patronus a black raven represents knowledge, they carry intelligence and quick wit, matching perfectly with Ravenclaw. You find extreme comfort in those with intelligence and knowledge of past events, and how to handle new things calmly and with poise. You tend to have some moments of a delicate, sensitive side that comes out of them in times of fear or sadness.  You tend not to always a leader, but a follower because they know that others may have more experience or wisdom than them, but if you know you are the most intelligent, knowledgeable or wise, you take the reigns and lead the way. In the same way the owner of this patronus will give up leadership, to a wiser leader, they will do the same in a multitude of different situations. Despite this, you are very brave and cunning, but in other areas, when you do take leadership, you are a strong-minded and focused leader, you never let you guard down, even if you are scared or confused. You carry an extreme amount of knowledge with you at all times, waiting to find a use in the correct situation. This patronus matched with Ravenclaw, means that you are able to think of creative and innovative ideas for the better of the team, even when you are not the leader.

Patronus memory: When Andromeda and Ted accepted her as their own daughter. She realised that she did have a family who loved her and cared for her.

Animagus: a small Black Raven

Amortentia (what they smell like): old books, chocolate, a tad bit of cinnamon, coffee and lavender

Amortentia (what they smell): a library, petrichor, grass, cinnamon, and a very strong woody cologne

✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦

Magical Abilities:

Legilimency and Occlumency:

Legilimency is the act of magically navigating through the many layers of a person's mind and correctly interpreting one's findings. A person who practices this art is known as a Legilimens. Muggles might call this "mind-reading," but practitioners disdain the term as naïve. The opposite of Legilimency is Occlumency, which is used to shield one's mind from the invasion and influence of a Legilimens.

Occlumency is the act of magically closing one's mind against Legilimency. It is ancient, and has existed since medieval times.[1] It can prevent a Legilimens from accessing one's thoughts and feelings, or influencing them. A person who practices this art is known as an Occlumens.

Favourite spells: Bombarda, Legilimens, Expecto Patronum, Reducto

✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦

School:

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Organizations joined: Hogwarts, Circle of Khanna, The Order of The Phoenix

Apprenticeships: worked as an intern at the Ministry of Magic for a while, and helped Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing with Chiara

Professions: Auror for a while, took a break after a bad injury and ended up teaching at Hogwarts for a year, and then became an Alchemist.

Best Subjects: Transfiguration, Potions, Flying, Charms, Astronomy and DADA

Worst Subjects: Herbology, History of Magic, Divination.

Extra curricular activities: Keeper of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, sometimes tutors first years

✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦

Relationships:

Fuck her blood family, she's a part of the Tonks family now

Edward "Ted" Tonks

He might not be her father, but he sure is her dad. Muggle born Ted taught Ammie how to mess around with muggle tools, and introduced her to muggle movies and other random trinkets. He thinks of Ammie as his own daughter, and was the one who taught her how to ride a bicycle

Andromeda "Meda" Tonks (née Black)

Andromeda took in her niece when she had nowhere to go, treated her like family, and protected her from all sorts of danger. Provided love, care and support to Ammie during her traumatizing times. She was considered as a blood traitor, but that didn't stop her from saving her little niece

Nymphadora "Dora" Tonks

Ammie's sister, and best friend. Stood by her side for everything and supported her all the way. Provided comic relief and loves Ammie to death. With a stupid sense of humor, and a knack for creating mischief, she's Ammie's most beloved person

Jacob Black

The one who started it all. The idiot who got himself stuck in a portrait. All of this garbage began with him, and Ammie never lets him forget it. Very protective of his little sister and hates everyone for some reason

Misc family members: Sirius Black, Regulus Black, Walburga Black, Orion Black.

Friends: Rowan Khanna, Ben Copper, Bill Weasley, Penny Haywood, Nymphadora Tonks, Talbott Winger, Badeea Ali, Tulip Karasu, Jae Kim, Chiara Lobosca, Charlie Weasley, Barnaby Lee, and Liz Tuttle

Closest Canon Friends: Rowan Khanna, Nymphadora Tonks, Talbott Winger, Tulip Karasu, Jae Kim and Badeea Ali

Closest MC friends:

Alvina Arcane-Zheng ( @oneirataxia-girl)

Celeste Wheterstead ( @bananascrackersnuts)

Tessa Reed ( @hphm4ever)

Adel Young (@adellovesrowan)

Matthew Luther (@hphmmatthewluther)

Cato Reese (@catohphm)

Niky Dona, Sabina Ivylash and Persephone Palerosine (@nikyiscreepy)

Night Nur Rhea (@night-rhea)

(I don’t have much friends... Just lmk if your MC wants to be friends with mine)

Love Interest: Talbott Winger

Dorm Mates: Rowan Khanna, Tulip Karasu, Badeea Ali and Skye Parkin

Rival/ bestie: Merula Snyde

Enemies: Patricia Rakepick, R, The Wizard in White Robes

Pets: a female black kitten kneazle named Moonshine

✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦

Trivia:

- Has a stuffed bear named Sir Boo Boo

- Really likes Indie Rock/Pop

- Ended up being in a band with Jae and Tonks by accident

- Pretty much hates the world in the morning

- Gets good marks in Divination by making up really tragic stories

- Can’t stand tea

- Fluent in French

- McGonagall claims to hate her, but she really thinks Ara’s rather daring

- Sings in the shower

- Annoys the heck out of Andre with her questionable fashion choices

- Stupid sense of humor

- Laughs like a witch

- Quotes Shakespeare when drunk

- Can skateboard like a pro

- Weird handwriting

- Messy yet organized

[catgrump]

Hello! I love your work, I was wondering if you wanted to write Leobuki with the prompt “I knew this was a bad idea”

Thank you so much!

How have I never thought of this ship before?

Let’s go let’s go!!! Chaotic Punk Rockers!

Non Despair AU where these two are adults auditioning for a talent search/talent competition! Enjoy ���

🌻🌻🌻

“I knew this was a bad idea I knew this was a bad idea,” Leon was muttering the phrase over and over again as he clutched the neck of his guitar that sat across his lap and tapped his foot on the tile floor incessantly

And then he heard the clanging of metal on metal beside him. He looked to his right and saw a girl sitting down in a (rather sick) colorfully punk outfit with matching hair holding a keytar. The chains on her belt must’ve made the noise as she sat down.

She was looking at him with a soft, somewhat eerie smile.

“Can I help you?” Leon asked, unsure if he wanted an answer

“Ibuki sensed distress!”

Her voice rang out like the welcome bell over a shop door. He’s been in the presence of this girl for like five seconds and he’s already... oddly intrigued. “Is that you?” Leon asked, “Ibuki?”

“Yessir; you’re a good guesser.” Her smile hasn’t left her face. The contrast of her black lipstick and white teeth was... endearing?

Well, Leon would be lying if he said he didn’t think Ibuki looked cool as hell. Pink and blue and white streaks were scattered in organized chaos throughout her long black hair; she was covered in studded, spiked, and chained accessories; her makeup was intense, yet subtle; and she had a chain of piercings trailing under her lip.

Leon’s tongue pressed against the backing of his own labret piercing, thinking about how he doesn’t think he could handle more than one there. She must be hardcore.

“So what’s up?” Ibuki asked with a pep in her pipes, then gasping, quickly straightening her posture, and answering her own question with another question, “Are you nervous about the audition??”

“Heh, you’re a pretty good guesser, too,” Leon nervously tried to flirt; why did he think THAT was a good idea when he’s already on edge?

“Do you wanna know Ibuki’s advice?”

His foot tapping has transitioned to leg bouncing as he replied, “Sure.”

“It’s not an audition at all!”

“Hah, what?”

“If you tell your brain it isn’t an audition, and you’re just playing at home like you would normally, or you’re playing for a crowd— whichever is easier for you; I know Ibuki prefers a crowd— nerves just POOF! Disappear!”

“Easier said than done,” Leon said, trying to keep his cool. She’s cute and giving him attention; he doesn’t want to pass up an opportunity for a potential phone number.

But his brain is having trouble keeping up this facade. Normally if he’s actively trying to pick someone up, he can focus all his attention on trying to impress the person he’s talking to, but the more he talks with Ibuki while trying to hold his head up high, the more he feels like he’s going to pass out. Especially because, “I’ve never actually performed for a crowd before.”

“Wooooaaahhh that’s cuckoo bananas!” Her eyes almost had actual stars in them, “You must have some serious balls to make your first performance a talent competition!”

“Hah, I guess so—“

“But I totally get why you’re nervous! You’re super duper totally allowed to be. Ibuki was in her first talent competition when she was ten, and she was nervous as all hell.”

“How long ago was that?— if you don’t mind me asking,” Leon looked at Ibuki and thought she had to be at least his age

“A little over a decade!”

She is his age. And she’s been performing since she was in grade school.

Leon only recently discovered he could try to make a career in music, and one of his insecurities is feeling like he has to catch up to everyone else.

Suddenly, a stage manager with a clipboard appeared from behind the big push-bar doors, “Number 37?”

“Oh, that’s me,” Leon practically coughed out

“You’re on deck,” the stage manager added before going back inside

“How are you feeling?” Ibuki asked, leaning in

“If I’m being honest; lightheaded,” Leon tried to play it off as a joke, even though it was the truth.

“Let me get you some water!” Ibuki declared, springing up from the bench and swinging her keytar across her back before darting off

“Ibuki, wait—“

But it was too late. She was already bouncing down the hall, determined to reach her destination.

“Dammit,” Leon muttered, keeling his head forward

Talking with her was a nice distraction. Now, all he can think about is that he’s up next to audition.

By the time the stage manager came back to bring Leon into the audition space, Ibuki hadn’t returned.

Leon tried not to worry too much, thinking it would distract him in a bad way.

But he couldn’t help but think of Ibuki when he approached the microphone and said, “Hi, my name’s Leon Kuwata, and this is an original piece called ‘Under the Bleachers’,” and imagined himself alone in his apartment as he played the chords and sang.

And he got to finish the entire song. He was expecting to get cut off, but he sang the whole thing.

He was brought back to reality when one of the people on the panel who were watching started asking him about the piece, “When did you write that?”

Leon talked about how he drafted it in high school— it was originally a poem he wrote for a class assignment— and reworked it into music after going through a breakup.

The panel all at least seemed interested in his story, too, “Well, thank you for sharing, Leon,” one person said, “We’ll be in touch.”

Leon thanked the panel members and left with a smile on his face.

When he walked back into the hallway, there was Ibuki, sitting on the edge of the bench, holding a bottle of water whose condensation was dripping onto her ripped tights. She stuck to her word.

“You were so good, Leon!” She said with a grin, bouncing as she sat, the water in the bottle jostling inside.

“You could hear?” Leon asked, feeling heat creep to his face as he heard her say his name.

“Yeah! I came back and saw you were gone, so I pressed my ear to to door to snoop,” she laughed, “We have totally different styles, but I’d love to jam sometime! It’s fun to get new flavors in every now and again.”

“You would?”

“Abso-tively!” She beamed, then continued, “It’s like Absolutely and Positively had an affair and made a baby.”

Leon laughed, unsure what to make of her. She’s odd, and unapologetic about it. She’s confident enough to have been performing for over ten years. She’s honest and upbeat.

He definitely has a crush.

But would someone as cool as Ibuki want to take a chance on some shmuck like Leon?

She at least seems like she wants to be friends, and Leon would be happy with that.

“If we’re gonna jam sometime, then,” Leon stepped a bit closer and took his phone out of his pocket, “How about I get your number?”

“Sure!” Ibuki was still smiling, and caught Leon off-guard when she pulled her phone out from the waistband of her tights.

They swapped phones and exchanged numbers. Leon paused typing his in to look at her, bouncing her head rhythmically to the tapping of her thumbs on his phone’s screen.

She’s cute. She’s cute and she’s cool and she’s also a musician and Leon can’t believe he was lucky enough to meet her.

Even if he doesn’t get in the show, one good thing came out of today.

When she handed him his phone back, he read the full name of that person— the one definite good thing to come from today— illuminated on the screen: “Ibuki 🤪🖤🎸 Mioda”

If you enjoy my work, you can buy me a Ko-Fi 💛 Fics will always be free; this is just an additional way to support me!

[asilcorner]

Don’t mind me, I’m just writing down all the little things I know, noticed or keep quoting after my rewatch of the Animaniacs, as well as games and comics. I literally can’t hold in my excitement for the reboot in for more than 10 minutes without bursting into tears.

Apparently the Warners were born/drawn on the 30th of March at 2.43 in the morning in the year 1929. Later they change it to 1930.

1934 the Warners are deemed dangerous and too zany, so they get locked into the water tower for 60 years.

However not consecutively, they do escape whenever the tower is in need of cleaning (they mention termites)

The years they escaped were 1945, January 21st 1968, 1977 and November 1989. There are no other mentioned, but there probably were

Yakko is 14, Wakko is 11 and Dot is 10 years old and they haven’t aged a single day since their creation

Yakko is lactose intolerant, but it’s not clear how bad it actually is, while Wakko has hyperglycemia

Wakko is apparently absolutely terrified by clowns

Dots real name is Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the third

Yakko in the comics has a second name, which makes him Yakko Alvin Warner and I am still laughing about it

When also asked in the comics about their gender Yakko answers with male, Dot with female and Wakko with other, he’s non-binary now, I say so

While the Warners usually do stuff together, they do split up and have alone time; Yakko for example loves to play with paddleballs or does read in his free time

Wakko is the quiet one, usually also called the dumbest; however, he has a very impressive talent in building Rube Goldberg-nesque machines that take a lot of mental gymnastics and math

Dot in the meantime loves to write poetry and recites it in front of audiences

In episode 99 is a footnote for ep 100 that there will be a new episode, we just need to wait and wait and wait! And it wasn’t a lie

One episode was called “The final space cartoon, we promise” since they overused the trope, and now I hope they make another one, calling it “Sike, we lied, another space episode”

Yakko calls the others “siblings” or “sibs”, sometimes even “sister/brother-sib” or other nicknames like “garbage disposal” or “princess” and it makes my heart melt

There are very seldom times where the Warners are at a loss about what they should do, but when it happens, it’s always Wakko and Dot looking at Yakko to come up with a plan

In the same breath if he gets stuck, he does rely on them and usually asks for “Uhhhhhhhhh, a little help here, please?”, which makes their dynamic absolutely precious to me

Yakko’s also usually the one they cling to or hide behind, while he’s the one guarding them or acting as a wall; we stand big brother/step-up dad Yakko in this household

Quotes that won’t leave me alone

Yakko (Y), Wakko (W), Dot (D), Scratchy (S), Other (O)

(S) “You will learn the meaning of futility, even if it kills me!” (W) “…It’s your funeral…”

(W) “Maybe we are dogs? Cute little dogs! With ears! Woof woof! And little tails that we can wag!”

(Y) “There is no time like the present!” (W) “Is the present for me?” (D) “If he gets one, I want a present, too!” (Y) “Aren’t siblings the worst sometimes?”

(D) “The reception’s as bad on these as it is in the states.” (Y)“Technology makes the world smaller every day”

(W) “The sense of smell is the way you tell that you need to change your socks!”

(S) “How do you feel?” (Y) “With my hands”

(D) “I’m mad, I’m mad, I’m really really mad, you poked me with your elbow in my side!” (Y) “No I didn’t!” (D) “Yes, you did! You did! And I’m just a little kid...”

(Y) “This may be a silly question, but why does he want to eat us?” (D) “Fad diet?” (W) “’Cause we kinda taste like chicken?” (Y) “How would you-… Nevermind”

(Y) “You know this means war!” “-ner!”

(W) Theres a sense of pride, that you have deep down inside (Y) When you practice a sense of fair play (D) Sense of wonder, sense of beauty (W) Sense of honor, sense of duty

(O) “It says here you live in a tower!” (Y) “That’s right, Ned!” (O) “Well, tell us a little about it.” (Y) “…We live in a tower, Ned.”

(Y) “It’s that time again!” (W) “To make the fox censors cry?”

(Y) “There is something missing…” (D) “You mean talent?”

(O) “I can’t thank you enough!!!” (Y) “You can try”

(O) “I’m Count Dracula” (Y) “Didn’t you use to teach math at sesame street?”

(Y) “It’s a great big universe and we are really puny! We’re tiny little specks about the size of Mickey Rooney!”

(O) “Ah! You must be the smart one!” (D) “I’m the cute one!” (W) “And I’m the psychologically unhinged one”

[tcm]

Lily Tomlin Remembers Carl Reiner (March 20, 1922 - June 29, 2020) By Donald Liebenson

“The most serious films are comedies,” Carl Reiner told interviewer Andrew Buss in 2019. “They look easy, but they’re hard to come by.”

Lily Tomlin agrees. “It’s very hard to strike the right comedic tone,” she says, and she considers ALL OF ME (’84), her lone collaboration with Reiner, to be something of a miracle. It’s a deftly handled, sweet screwball and spiritual romance. “That’s the kind of comedy I like to see,” she said in a phone interview. “The script is sweet and lyrical, but it’s a vehicle for broad physical comedy for Steve.”

It is Reiner’s masterpiece.

ALL OF ME is included in TCM’s five-film tribute on July 28 to Reiner, screenwriter, author, actor, director and multi-Emmy-winning creator of The Dick Van Dyke Show. He died June 29 at 98. In ALL OF ME, Tomlin stars as Edwina Cutwater, a frail but fabulously wealthy woman who summons lawyer Roger Cobb (Martin) to her deathbed to inform him of her plan to come back from the dead. And then it gets bananas, as her soul is accidentally transmigrated into Cobb’s body.

Tomlin spoke with me the day after Olivia de Havilland died at 104. “I thought she was going to live forever, dammit” she said. “I respected and admired her. She was extremely good in everything she did.” Tomlin then shared her memories of Reiner’s “fun and harmonious” set and why it took her six weeks to commit to doing the film she calls one of her favorites.

How familiar were you with Carl Reiner? Did you watch Your Show of Shows growing up?

Lily Tomlin: Sure I did. I was taken with Imogene Coca. I was more attracted to the women who were doing comedy, because whether I knew it or not, I was headed in that direction. I saw Carl and loved him. And I got to know him. I remember sitting and talking to him in the makeup room [of a show I was on] and we talked about Mary Tyler Moore and Dick Van Dyke. He was just a fabulous, sweet guy. I wrote this to [his son] Rob when his dad died: I used to go see his wife, Estelle, sing in the clubs. I went early one night and there was Carl on his hands and knees running cable to her microphone. That was just so memorable. When we made ALL OF ME, he was such an easygoing, wonderful guy; talented and funny and unflappable.

You two seem very well suited in that like him, you find comedy through characters and situations, not jokes.

LT: I’m honored. I never thought of that.

I watched an interview with Carl, who said you were ‘a hard yes’ to do ALL OF ME. He said it took about six weeks of ‘wonderful lunches and meetings’ before you committed.

LT: I had no idea he said that.

He gave you credit for reshaping the script.

LT: That was sweet of him. A lot of directors wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t say anything about reshaping the script out of respect for him. It’s hard as hell to make a movie.

He said early versions of the script were written very much with a male gaze.

LT: I hesitate to say misogyny. It was an accepted thing in comedy, especially at that time. I was mostly trying to influence the writer, Phil Alden Robinson (who also wrote FIELD OF DREAMS). There was a scene where Steve’s character was going to spank Victoria Tennant’s character in bed. I said he could playfully paddle her like, ‘You’re a bad girl.’ Even that’s iffy, but I knew they could play it comedically. It was important to me to be able to express that, and I’m so glad I did because it’s one of my favorite movies. It’s laugh-out-loud funny and Steve has never been better.

And it’s so sweet. The image in the mirror of you and Steve dancing at the end gets me every time.

LT: (Laughs) Carl and I exchanged messages. I said, ‘No one wants to see him dance with Victoria, who is this treacherous character. They want to see him dance with me.’ I don’t remember if they shot it both ways. Finally one day, he left a message and said, ‘Okay, you’re right.”

What are your most vivid memories of making the film?

LT: This is wacky. I wanted Edwina to have real jewels, not stage jewels. I was thinking of (philanthropist) Barbara Hutton. Jewelers used to bring her trays of jewels and she would look at them in bed with a jeweler’s glass. I wanted that to be part of my character. [The studio] wouldn’t rent good jewels for me, so I rented them myself. I had to have a guard on set whenever the jewels were there.

When you learned that Carl has passed, what were your thoughts of him?

LT: I just loved him. He was so menschy, sweet and good and still had so much humor. When I went to see him to talk about ALL OF ME, he had such a charming and wonderful house. I told him, ‘I’ve been looking all over for this house. Now I see why I don’t have it: you’re living in it.”

[mackeydoodledoo]

Who Knows

Part 2 to the "Not So Cold After All" Series!

Pairing: Jade Thirlwall x (Fem!)Reader

Summary: You were a very caring child, no matter how many times mean kids would try and discourage you. However, there was one in particular girl that caught your eye; Jade Thirlwall, she'd always drive your bullies away, but would always act sour around you. However, years, many years go by and you practically forget about your "Barely Notices You" crush however, your paths cross again, when you realize you are Little Mixs' touring bassist, seeing Jade for the first time in years, resurfacing some unspoken love.

Warnings: Angst(?)

A/N: This is in 1st person, Bold = Thoughts, Italics = Singing

"Not So Cold After All" Live Band Mini Setlist

----------------------------------------------------------------------

As Jesy, Perrie, Leigh-Anne and Jade seat Laura, Jax, Beca and I, Jade and I catch a glimpse at each other and she gives a small wave at me. Not thinking of how to greet her back, I wink at her. I look at Laura and she gives me a face. A face I recognize as her saying; "Get her b**ch!" I kick her leg and and winces but tries not to make it noticeable. 

"So along with out supporting group," the tour manager starts, "As for the final show of the tour tonight, the girls and myself would like to showcase our live bands' skills." 

Laura and I are taken aback, whilst Jax and Becca are all for the idea. 

"So like...." Laura questions, "Each and every one of us plays a song of our choosing?" 

"Thats correct," Jade answers, "You okay with that?" 

"Yeah I was thinking we'd play a whole song together as a band, that plays instruments," she replies 

Not knowing how to properly word it, Laura leaves it at that. 

"What if, I’m just thinking out loud here. We end up doing a short setlist?" I ask, noticing Jade look at me like I'm insane 

"Thats fine by me," Tour Manager says, "Good thinking." 

“Are you singing Y/N?” Jade asks

“Oh, good heavens no,” I answer, “I don’t sing. That’s all to Laura.”

Once the meeting was finished, I begin walking back to my car to the hotel Laura and I were staying in, I feel a tap on my shoulder. 

"Hey you," Jade says as I turn around 

"Hey," I say, smiling 

This is the first time she actually has come up to me in years. We've caught glimpses of each other during shows, rehearsals and we'd both greet each other at the same time but neither of us had the chance to really catch up. 

"You maybe want to grab some lunch on the way back to the hotel?" She asks 

I look to Laura for an approval and she... Again gives me that same face from earlier. 

"Sure," I smile 

I hop into the driver's seat as Jade gets into the passenger seat. Laura hops in the back, hijacking the aux chord. She puts on some acapella music and the both of us jam out while Jade laughs at us. 

As soon as we got back to the hotel, I tell both Laura and Jade to eat without me, that I need to go talk to Jax and Becca. I go knock on her door. 

"What’s up shorty?" She laughs 

"Very funny," I chuckle, "How would you two feel about performing a three part setlist for our little portion of the show?" 

"Really?" She asks 

I nod,  "Well, I think having 3 songs that feature all of us is a cool idea and the encore song could be a song I really like and I think it'd fit and it would show how well we can all sound as a band. Though we aren't really a band. Also, I think I'm going to sing lead for this one. I have to talk to Laura about that." 

"So you want us to help you so you can impress your crush?" She asks 

I nod, blushing at the fact Jade is my crush, “Don’t tell her I’m going to sing lead.”

"We're in and your secret’s safe with us," she smiles, "Did you tell Laura yet?" 

"Not yet," I answer, "Jade's in there." 

We fist bump and I go back to my room, where Jade and Laura are almost finished eating, but they put on some music. 

"What'd you talk to Jax for?" Laura asks 

"Nothing special," I say 

I seat myself next to Jade and begin eating. As I listen to Jade and Laura talk about our beginnings and how Laura and I started out as a band. 

"Wait," Jade starts, "You two were drunk?!" 

I nod in agreement as I almost choke on my food. As I look at Jade, a spark flies across my body as her thumb gently runs across my cheek. She giggles as she licks the piece of lettuce (and mayo) right off her thumb. I shake my gawk off and laugh with her. 

"So you're called-" 

"Saints of Starlight," I answer 

"That's actually a pretty dope name," she smiles 

"Thank Y/N for that one," Laura states, "She was high off her ass and she managed to spot that name for us." 

"Somehow I was conscious enough for that," I smile, finishing my food

We end up playing a game of "Cards against Humanity" and so far Laura is in the lead: I’m horrible at card games. Games in general.

By the time we nearly get through all of the cards, a knock comes onto our door. 

"Jade?" Jesy calls from the other side of the door 

"Yeah Jess?" She calls back 

"You ready to go?" She asks 

And it hit Jade, she was supposed to get dressed for a birthday party for Leigh-Anne. 

"Is Y/N and Laura invited?" Jade asks 

"Jade," I whisper, "We don't have to go. It'll be fine." 

"Oh for sure," Leigh-Anne says 

Jade gets up and helps us clean up the cards before going to her room to change into a nice outfit. Laura and I do the same. I manage to shove on my 2019 indoor drumline season uniform; 1940s style detective outfit. Suspenders n all. However, the only thing that didn't go with my fit were my shoes. They were Doc Marten brand boots. However, I believed it was a nice subtle touch to my black m white outfit. I wait outside the door for Laura and for Jade. 

"Oh well Y/N can sure clean up nice," Jesy teases, "Jade's gonna have a kick looking at that." Jesy points to all of me as Jade comes walking down the hall. 

"Y/N?" Jade calls out 

I turn to her. I smile and wave over to her as Laura opens the door and reveals a casual-formal outfit. 

"You sure look nice Y/N," Jade blushes as she catches up to us 

"You too," I say, "Well, you look beautiful." 

We follow the rest of the Little Mix members and Laura out to hail a cab to a bar that Jesy, Perrie and Jade had rented out for the evening.  There was barely enough room for all of us to fit into the cab. As I seat myself next to Jesy, Jade hops right into my lap. 

"A little warning next time," I gasp, but laugh 

"Sorry," she smiles, "Your lap is the only good seat in here." 

My face turns into a ball of flame as I look at Jade, who laughs at my face. Two can play at that Game. Her guard was down as I slowly and gently coil my fingers around Jade's waist as the cab driver drives off. I look up at Jade's face and it was just like mine not even 20 seconds ago. I laugh as do Jesy, Perrie and Leigh-Anne. Laura gave me "the look" as I subtly make and "ok" with my hand. 

We reach the bar and its practically filled with party-goers and we walk upstairs to a VIP room and I seat myself next to Jade. 

"You really know how to pull some strings to get us a room," Leigh-Anne says to her girls 

"We are extra," Perrie states 

We order a couple of drinks and within those said drinks, I notice Jesy already drunk. She begins ranting on about how much fun everything is and how excited she is to see Laura and I play for them. 

"Yeah what do you guys have planned?" Jade asks, looking intently at me 

"Well," I clear my throat, "You lot are just going to have to see." 

I look at Laura to not spoil anything and that I'll explain to her later once we head back to the hotel. 

After helping Jesy to her hotel room and getting her to drink water and eat bread and get her to bed, I help Jade get to hers. 

"You know," Jade starts, "You're really fun to hang out with. Why haven't we done that more often?" 

"Well," I start, "You were always cold to me and always turned down my invitations to hang out. Though, that never phased me and I've always kept on trying to get you to hang out with me." I look over to Jade, who's clearly looks and feels guilty. 

"Well," I add, "Like I said, it never really hurt me when you turned them down. That's because you saved me." 

Jade again looks up at me. 

"Do you remember when there were bullies in elementary school and you always managed to scare them off. Little did you know that little kid you saved-" 

"Was you?" She asks 

I nod, "However, when we did finally become friends, you ended up going to audition for Britain's got Talent? Or something like that. So I guess you ended up forgetting about me. But then again, I moved to America." 

"Sorry love," she says, "A lot of people come and go in my life. However, you're the first one who came back around." 

"Yeah," I sigh, "Well, goodnight. See you tomorrow." 

Before I stand to leave her room, she wraps her arms around my waist and her face pressed gently against my back. 

"Thank you," she says before her grip loosening on me 

"Always," I say, leaving her room 

As I close the door to my hotel room with Laura, she looks at me. 

“Okay, listen," I say, "So I already talked to Jax and Becca, and they agreed that we do a 3-song setlist when they want us to perform." 

"So," Laura asks, "Are you singing lead or am I?" 

"That's a good question," I say, "Well, I arranged the mini setlist and I have this." 

I show Laura the mini setlist I made on my YouTube page and she nods in agreement to play this setlist for tomorrow.

"I just want to sing the last song," I suggest, "That one specifically is basically saying what could have been with someone." 

"Oh so is that song gonna be for Jade?" She asks, making "that look" 

"Yeah," I exhale, “Also, don’t tell Jade I'm going to sing the last song.”

"Okay," Laura answers

We both head to bed, for the big night tomorrow; showcasing a live band.

I catch Jade just about to leave her hotel room and she waits for me as I catch up to her. 

"Sleep alright?" I ask 

She nods, "Hungry?" She holds up a banana and a breakfast muffin 

"Yeah, thanks love," I say, taking the items, "You know, bananas are a great source of potassium. I always eat one before I do a competition. Both high school marching band and indoor winter percussion." 

"You did all of those?" She asks. I nod 

"When I did my first year of marching band I got talked into doing indoor percussion for the winter time. Best decision ever," I say, hopping into a cab with Jade following suit 

"You have to tell me how you did all of them and if you have any good stories," Jade smiles 

"Well," I smile, "I have many stories that can be saved for another night." 

Jade pouts as we exit the cab to enter the venue. Fans and paparazzi immediately circle around Jade, nearly pushing me out of the way to get to her. 

"Y/N!" Jade calls out 

I nearly wrestle a couple of fans and paparazzi and reach out for Jade. I feel a strong tug and Jade buries herself into my jacket. I hold Jade close as fans begin to make a path for her and I to walk into the venue. 

"You guys are chaotic," I say, glaring at the Paparazzi specifically 

I push the doors to walk inside, "You alright?" 

Jade nods as she lets go of me and walks over to her girls. 

"I saw that," Laura teases, "What happened out there anyway?" 

"A bunch of fans and paparazzi," I answer, "They practically pushed me away from Jade." 

"You fought people?" She asks 

"No, I was close to though," I reply, "I just was sick of fans and paparazzi not giving the girls space." 

Laura nods as their tour manager comes up to us, "Jade needs time to cool down so go ahead and rehearse first you guys." 

"How is she?" I ask 

"Shaken up but she'll be alright," he answers 

I sigh in relief, having temptation to go check on her, but I assure myself that Jesy, Perrie and Leigh-Anne have gotten Jade calmed down. I go back to rehearsal. 

"Jade," Jesy calls out, bringing me back 

Jade's POV

As I inhale and exhale, Jesy, Perrie and Leigh-Anne comforting me, I could hear a singing voice. Is it Becca? Laura? Even Y/N? No, Y/N even said it herself, she doesn't sing. 

"Yeah?" I look at her 

"You feeling better love?" She asks and I nod 

I continue listening to that singing voice. Regardless if it was either Becca, Laura or even Y/N, they're bloody talented. 

"Do you hear that voice out on stage?" I ask the girls 

"Yeah," Perrie answers, "That voice is bloody f**clinging talented." 

"Do you think it's Y/N?" Leigh-Anne suggests 

"It couldn't be," I smile, "Y/N told me she doesn't sing. She only does backing vocals. But she never sings lead." 

"If you say so Jade," she replies 

"Just wait until Jade sees you," Laura teases 

Y/N's POV

I sing the last line with Laura and Becca. I stop the sound of my bass and wipe sweat from the sides of my head with my shirt and begin stripping. I tuck my shirt in my back pocket. 

"Shut the f**k up Laura," I laugh, "I'm toasty. Okay, so how do we feel about that?" 

I get OK's from everyone and I put on a song from one of my playlists, having a gut feeling Jade is going to come back any moment, I don't sing. I didn’t even intentionally pick the song; Black Magic by Little Mix. Instinctively, we all manage to play through however long we decided to play until we were moved to the back for Little Mixs’ rehearsal.

 I put on my button down shirt and leave a couple of buttons unbuttoned, to give my lesbian look. I tuck my shirt into my pants and roll up my sleeves. I roll them up just enough for them to not interfere with my hands.

“Jesy was right,” Jade says

I look up and smile.

“You really do clean up nicely,” She adds, walking toward me

“Might as well look good for the occasion,” I reply back, “And you look exquisite.”

I see Jade’s cheeks flush a deep pink as she comes even closer, “Would you want to get dinner after the show tonight?”

“Wouldn’t it be late?” I ask

“Some places here are open late too,” She replies back, hugging me from behind

“I’m down,” I reply, lacing my fingers with hers

“If you’re gonna get it on, get a separate room and keep it quiet,” Laura teases from the doorway

“Laura shut up,” I sigh

“Band’s warming up Y/N,” Laura finally says

Jade lets go of my hips and she places a kiss onto my cheek, “Good luck Y/N.”

“You too Jade,” I reply, returning the same kiss, but onto her forehead

As the lights go down and the fans cheer.... Not only for Little Mix, but us too. 

"Hey guys, we're Little Mixs' live band. We are so honored to be playing as an actual band for their tour as well." Laura says into the microphone

Laura begins singing the first verse as I slide my left hand up the bass neck to where I need to go for it. At the song’s climax, I watch Laura hit the high note Colby Benson usually sings when she sings this particular song live. Laura turns to me as the fans scream and cheer for that high note and I cheer too. I look to the side stage as the women of Little Mix watch us hype the crowd. I wink particularly at Jade.

 When Laura sings the last note of the second song, she steps away from the mic as I step in her place.

“This song,” I start, “Is no original, but by one of the coolest girl bands in California. But this goes out to a special person. Although we never dated and never had those ups and downs of a relationship, I felt something between us two. That was a long time ago however, the both of us drifted apart in that time. We were both the ones that got away, but, she showed up into my life again. And that something I began feeling for her, came back.”

Jade’s POV

I watch as Y/N gives her speech. I felt Jesy touch my shoulder, as I begin to think of who that person was in Y/N’s life all that time ago.

Y/N’s POV

I subtly turn my head to side stage, using my eyes to further my eye contact and Jade meets mine. I smile at her and turn my head to the microphone

I listen to Becca as she plays the opening riff. Jax begins playing her drum part;

Oh no, I'm feeling you watching me

Same way you did when we were seventeen

Dim lights, this bar was alright

Until I saw a ghost of you

I look to Becca and she nods, hinting that I’m doing a good job thus far, I inhale and exhale, close my eyes for a split second and open my eyes.

You tried to pull me closer

I start to fall again

Tell me you still remember

'Cause I remember

Jax has us enter the chorus as we begin getting into the music.

Baby, we were fire in the rain

Burning through the night just to fade

When you say, "I could have loved you longer"

Who knows where we could have gone? 

It's a lie if we stay

Living for the past and the pain

When you say, "I could have loved you longer"

Who knows where we could have gone?

As I continue singing on through the song, I look over to Jesy, Jade, Perrie and Leigh-Anne as they watch me sing; they look like they’ve just seen a ghost, but then cheer me on. Except for Jade; whose arms are against her chest, smiling excessively at me. I smile back. 

Who knows what we should have done?

(Who knows) Who knows where we could have gone?

(Who knows) Who knows what we would have done?

(Who knows, who knows?)

The crowd cheers as I hit the high note and I notice from the corner of my eye that the girls were cheering too.

You tried to pull me closer

I start to fall again

Tell me you still remember

Where we could have gone, whoa, oh

As I sing the last note with Laura and Becca, Jesy, Jade, Perrie and Leigh-Anne run onto the stage as I walk back to put my bass on my stand. Jade in particular looks at me. 

Who knows what we should have done?

(Who knows) Who knows where we could have gone?

(Who knows) Who knows what we would have done?

(Who knows, who knows?)

(Who knows) Who knows what we should have done?

(Who knows) Who knows where we could have gone?

(Who knows) Who knows what we would have done?

(Who knows, who knows?)

“You did a bang up job Y/N!” Jesy screams into her microphone

“I thought you didn’t sing?” Perrie asks

“Listen,” I smile, “I wanted to surprise y’all.”

It worked too, Little Mix was thoroughly impressed.

As we go into an interlude to give us a small break and for Little Mix to change into their encore outfits, I notice Jade was tense.

“You’re usually hyper love,” I say, sitting next to her, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she says, “My family isn’t here. They always come to our shows.”

Before I could say anything, Jade’s phone rings. She immediately picks it up and answers.

“Hello?” she asks through the phone

I couldn’t hear what was going on on her phone, but I could tell Jade was getting even more tense. Jesy, Perrie and Leigh-Anne try to comfort her but to no avail.

“Would any of you be mad if I leave?” Jade asks, “It’s a family emergency.”

Immediately the girls said yes. However, the tour manager was reluctant.

“Laura and I could do something,” I suggest, “We explain to the fans what’s going on and why Jade isn’t on stage. The fans are sure to understand Jade.” 

Laura agrees with me, as do Jax and Becca. I follow Jade to help her out with getting her out of her outfit to change back into her outside clothing. I follow Jade out through the back as I hail a cab.

“I might have to take a raincheck on that dinner date Y/N,” Jade says, sorrowfully, “I also might not see you off tomorrow either. I was really hoping to spend more time with you and-”

“Don’t worry about that right now Jade,” I force a smile, “Just go make sure whomever family member is okay. Do that for me.”

She nods as I close the door for her. I watch the cab drive off into the cityscape. I could feel an overwhelming need to sob my eyes out however, nothing came out. 

“Y/N!” Laura says running out the door, “You okay?”

I force myself to nod, “Yeah-Yeah I’m fine.”

“The fans agreed to having a one-song encore, featuring Saints of Starlight,” Laura states

I nod as she walks back into the door while I take one last glimpse of the cityscape Jade disappeared into and then force myself to step back into the venue.

 The encore goes well, however, most fans left but we understood that. It was a quiet drive back to the hotel as all of us just go to our hotel rooms. 

“You're clearly not okay Y/N,” Laura states, “Spill it.”

“I understand her situation but,” I start, “I just feel like my 10 year old self again when I moved to the states. Missing Jade but, I feel that this is more sad…”

“You two were going to catch up finally?” Laura questions

To which I nod, “I don’t know if Who Knows gave Jade the hint.”

“You know what?” Laura asks, “We’ve had a long day and we’re about to have another. Why don’t we rest up?”

I take Laura’s suggestion and lie in bed.

Part 3 (Final)

[icyllic]

Full Of Stars | KIM NAMJOON

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

PAIRING: Namjoon x Female Reader

GENRE: Romance, angst, fluff, erotica

WORD COUNT: 941

SUMMARY: You’ve just met another one of the BTS members, Jeon Jungkook, as you’ve learned that he’s your ‘locker neighbor’. Will this newfound friendship be a good start for you two or will it definitely trigger someone’s anger...?

Jeon Jungkook; the member who’s considered as the ‘golden maknae’ of BTS, the member who has it all. The talent, the looks, every single thing that makes almost everyone adore him so much. You’d be lying if you said that you felt nothing when he begins to shake your hand after the both of your brief introduction.

“It’s so nice to meet you.” Jungkook flashes a sweet smile that you can’t help but to smile back and giggle a little. He tilts his head to scan your face, more like taking a few seconds to adore you.

“How’s this college treating you so far...? All good, I hope.” You look away quickly after you asked. You feel like you might be bursting of happiness but also of nervousness. He’s too beautiful, you don’t think you can’t handle that challenge of staring at him for even straight five minutes. 

“Not so bad,” he nods in agreement while eyeing at the entire hallway and the other students. “Frankly speaking, my hyungs make everything better here. Laughed for almost the entire day because of them.” He takes a sip of his banana milk. Man, that view of him drinking it actually makes your heart melt. But then, one particular word has caught you off-guard. 

“H-hyungs...?” you ask, trying not to sound stupid for asking so. “What’s that...?”

He widens his eyes when he heard your question, but now he understands why you didn’t get what he just said. “Oh, ‘hyung’ means big brother in Korean. My apologies.” He bows dramatically to show his apology, making you laugh once again. You don’t realize that Jungkook was looking at you while smiling when you laughed. Can definitely tell from here that he might be getting more attracted to you. 

“Well, it’s great you’ve had a lovely time,” you begin to speak. “Mine was tiring. I mean, I’m facing the ‘same shit, different day’ thing every single day but today feels somewhat different.” You lean back on your locker door while looking up at the ceiling, filling your head with wonders. Jungkook does the same, and his eyes are locked on yours. 

He takes another sip of his banana milk. “Do you wanna talk about it...?”

After hearing his question, you don’t know whether you’d tell him about your problems with Namjoon. You’re afraid Jungkook might tell him what you’re about to spill, so you decide to keep it a little short of what’s going on in your mind. 

“Has Namjoon always been.... I don’t know. Annoyed with every single thing around him?” You gulp nervously after you asked back. You’re scared of what his answer’s going to be. You know that BTS is protective with each other, so asking this dumb question would probably make Jungkook snap. 

But then... his answer does surprise you in a way, he isn’t angry nor disappointed with your question. 

“Namjoon has been having rough days. I don’t know what’s going on, but I think only Jin-hyung knows.” He shrugs then looks away, biting his lip nervously. What is it they’re hiding...? Is Namjoon struggling with something? Added another questions popped in your head; Why am I even worried about him? Why do I bother? What the hell is wrong with me?

As Jungkook waves his hand in front of your face, you’re brought back to reality. “Hey, Y/N.. you alright?” His voice sounds worried. It feels like he doesn’t want you to fill your head with millions of wonders either. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” you fix your hair and your shirt. “Just wondering why he’s being... a little stressed whenever I’m near him. It’s like he doesn’t want me to breathe next to him like- at all.” You widen your eyes to make the awkward situation funny, which it became successful since Jungkook chuckles at your silliness. 

“Don’t worry about it. Namjoon-hyung is always-” His words were cut off as soon as a familiar voice calls out his name. 

“Jungkook!” Namjoon calls out and walks towards the both of you. Holy shit, what do I do?! Panic begins to form in you and you don’t know what else to do, so you quickly open the locker door and pretend to organize your books. 

You can feel the intensity rises around the three of you. Namjoon furrows his eyebrows in confusion when he notices what you’re doing right now. He quickly brushes it off and turns back to Jungkook. 

“Come with us and hangout. Hoseok’s preparing more funny tales to tell us and it wouldn’t be complete without our golden maknae.” As Jungkook was about to walk, he stops and pokes your shoulder. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Thanks for making this day extra better too.” When you turn to him, he winks at you and your heart beats so fast as he starts walking away. Your heart’s melting so much you don’t even realize that Namjoon is standing right next to you. 

Namjoon backs you up against your locker door while caging you with his arms. You can’t believe it in your eyes that he’s actually looking at your lips right now. Uh oh, what the- why is he looking at my lips? You stand still and you’re not even able to blink your eyes. But then your thoughts stopped when he looks straight to your eyes; eyes so dark filled with anger. 

“Stay the hell away from Jungkook. And actually, just stay away from the seven of us. If you don’t....” he raises his eyebrow as an act of intimidation, then lets you go by walking to the direction Jungkook was walking to.

What exactly was that all about...?

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 243: Happy New Year

Previously on BnHA: The government was all “shit what are we going to do about Shigaraki Tomura and his Actual Fucking Army of villains, oh I know, why don’t we draft some child soldiers” and so they brought back internships and made them mandatory. Class 1-A had the Christmas party to end all Christmas parties, featuring 20 unique custom-tailored Santa costumes, enough chicken to feed Tomura’s entire Actual Fucking Army, and one (1) giant sword that somehow made its way into the hands of Eri, First of Her Name. Tidings of comfort and joy were had by all, and to cap things off, Shouto invited Bakugou (who by the way was having a lot of thoughts about how Best Jeanist asked him to reveal his new hero name the next time they met, because Horikoshi knows what kind of angst I like) and Deku to come intern with him at the motherfucking Endeavor Hero Agency and make everyone’s OT3 dreams come true.

Today on BnHA: Deku visits his mom on New Year’s Eve and the two of them ball out at the Make Me Cry Olympics. There is a whole plotline all about Hawks getting coffee, and I’m trying to figure out if it’s really just coffee or if THE ENTIRE SERIES SECRETLY HINGES ON THIS ONE SCENE omg. The next day at the Endeavor Hero Agency, Endeavor is all, “welcome! fuck you,” which may or may not be setting the tone for this whole arc. There’s a brief flashback to All Might congratulating his sons on their internship and saying foreshadowing things like “your new quirks probably won’t go fucking apeshit again” and “you’re a lot like Endeavor, this internship will be good for you!” Back in the present, Endeavor dramatically leaps over a railing and blasts off to go fight Monk Gyatso with the disaster trio hot on his heels. Hawks then shows up out of nowhere and the text is literally all, “WHAT’S HAWKS DOING HERE?” and seriously though. What are any of us even doing here. This arc has only just started and I already have no idea what’s going on and I fucking love it.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

loooool

is she going to be all right

-- also! WE’RE GOING TO SEE THE PARENTS AGAIN HOMG YES. HORIKOSHI YOU’RE ON FIRE WEEK AFTER WEEK YOU MAD DOG

(ETA: literally the only way he could end his streak was by going on fucking hiatus. son of a.)

oh shit I forgot that they had the cover and a color page this week! this is great

by the light (ba da dum ba da dum) of the silvery moon (ba da dum ba da dum) I want to spoon -- holy shit, what. do you ever look up the lyrics to a song you vaguely remember from your childhood twenty-five years later in order to make a bizarre joke in a manga recap and you’re like “!!?!?” lol what the fuck. this shit is from 1909. old timey pervs

anyways this may be my favorite Jump cover ever. colors are amazing, art is super cute, it’s the whole package. Aoyama and Iida are killing me. I need that Iida ball in real life, I would seriously pay real money

and now the color spread!

where can I buy that U.A. hoodie. I’m not kidding, I need it in my life. the U.A. logo is great because it doesn’t scream “LOOK AT ME I’M AN ANIME FAN” unless the other person also watches said anime, in which case that’s awesome because the two of you can become best friends and bond over how you’re both nerds with impeccable taste

Kacchan out here holding a fucking root beer like we don’t all know the truth. yeah tough guy you go to bed at eight-thirty and you’re third in your class at the top high school in Japan. but you keep on trying to preserve that image. also this kid is singlehandedly making wifebeaters high fashion I swear to god. it’s a talent

Kirishima looks so good in v-neck shirts yes you go Kiri!

Mina is here!! Mina is part of the main character squad now, everyone! that’s right!! Iida Tenya was booted out after he refused to partake in this photo shoot due to moral outrage over the fact that they’re shooting this at what appears to be a crime scene. a vacuum cleaner was murdered in cold blood omg

Ochako not smiling is such an unusual look for her (and Mina and Kirishima too for that matter) but holy shit. I like it

TODOROKI I’M TRYING TO REACH THROUGH THE COMPUTER SCREEN AND UNBUTTON YOUR TOP BUTTON. HOLY SHIT HOW CAN YOU EVEN BREATHE. RELAX

so the new character book is out October 4, eh? I think we knew this already, but maybe this time the date will actually stick in my mind. anyways, so doing the math, that leaves Kacchan three more chapters (including this one) to reveal his hero name. boy you have a deadline get to work!

YESSSSSSSSSSS

MY NEW YEAR’S ARC MAY NOT BE HAPPENING, BUT AT LEAST WE STILL GET TO SEE THEM RING IN 2217 HOORAY

damn that’s a lot of narration in the first panel

“while accompanied by guards” oh shit. and yet, I get it. I like how they refer to it as “the chain of events that led us to move into the dorms” rather than “that time Bakugou got fucking kidnapped.” they are not letting that happen again. good

IZUMAMA YESSSS

at least he’s being open with her about it! come on Inko, push through this. he’s already got 240 other things he’s still not telling you, don’t give him any more reason to keep being secretive

oh my god now Deku is like “anyways do you remember Eri?” and he’s reaching into his pocket now, holy shit?? WHATEVER HE’S PULLING OUT IS GOING TO BE SO FUCKING CUTE, ISN’T IT

oH MY GOD!!!!!

THIS SON OF A BITCH IS JUST GONNA KEEP ON AMASSING A COLLECTION OF ADORABLE AND HILARIOUS LITTLE KID LETTERS, ISN’T HE. LISTEN HERE DEKU YOU MOTHERFUCKER!! THAT PIC OF “MISTER DEKU” IS -- I’M -- !!!!

“I was hardly able to do anything for her” ?? you SAVED HER LIFE?? you BODYSLAMMED OVERHAUL INTO THE GROUND?? YOU GOT US ALL OUT OF THAT ACCURSED BASEMENT? listen here you modest little shit you need to stop doing this. you even taught her the true meaning of quirks for crying out loud. you are the actual best

god the way he is staring at this letter is giving me too many feels for a Thursday afternoon. these are like Saturday night feels. this manga never goes easy on me

same Inko same

oh my god now Inko is launching into a speech about Deku’s sad childhood I can’t with this, MA’AM PLEASE

“covered in bruises” oh my problematic ship. oh this nuanced manga with its intricate layers of feels. this is the lasagna of mangas

hello page 3 is just one big assault on all my emotions and I would like to report this to someone help I am being besieged

oh my fucking god Midoriya family. I’m trying to process all of this and just!!

like. she’s known all this time how big his heart is and that he doesn’t care about himself and just wants to protect others. but for the longest time he was powerless to do it. but still he kept dreaming and she kept looking on waiting for that day he’d finally give up, ready for his heart to break, bracing herself. and then this miracle happened and he got a quirk and all his hopes came true and he got to go to his dream school, and now he’s training to become a hero just like he always wanted

and everything special she always saw about her boy is shining so brightly now, and everyone can see it, and he’s become so strong. but also he’s growing up so fast. he’s gone from being someone she had to protect to someone who’s strong enough to protect not only her, but everyone. strong enough to carry the world on his shoulders

just. can you even imagine. how much pride she must feel, in addition to the relief she’s expressing now. but also the loneliness of knowing she can’t hold on to her baby boy forever and he’s on the verge of going out into the world and leaving her. in fact he basically already has. anyways I came here today for some Three Musketeers antics and now I’m sitting her with Izumama empty nest feels, what is this

-- yo, what?? he’s starting the internship on New Year’s Fucking Day? U.A. doesn’t fuck around, goddamn

(ETA: seriously, no rest for the weary here. both Endeavor and Hawks are as busy as ever too. poor Hawks, who never wanted to be a hero to begin with, spent New Year’s Eve undercover trying to drown his sorrows in sugary coffee. of course, Jeanist is spending his New Year’s either in hiding or dead, so.)

anyways so he’s bidding his mom goodbye and getting onto a bus, and he’s all bundled up in a scarf but can’t be assed to wear a jacket, apparently. whatever Deku

AHHHH WHAT IS THIS NOW

AND OH MY GOD LOOK WHERE HE IS

THE LEAGUE OF PLIFF’S HEADQUARTERS AT THE OL’ OVERLOOK HOTEL. watch out for the elevators. Toga probably really likes them though

“where did you run off to number 2” um, he’s still a top ranked pro hero? what, do they just expect him to never do his job ever again? even if they think he’s on their side, they must realize that he needs to maintain his so-called cover

anyways, fucking Slidin’ Go is back, guys. when is someone going to punch this slippery bitch in the face

wow he’s seriously chewing Hawks out for flying off without permission. can someone please just deck this mouthbreather already

oh my god

this motherfucker really truly believes he is Hawks’s senpai. imagine having the same power as a fucking banana peel, and being so deluded you actually think you outrank a double agent of indispensable value, who also just so happens to be Dabi’s best friend, and oh yes, THE NUMBER TWO FUCKING HERO. I don’t even know where to begin with you, Slidin’ Go

oh snap but he’s immediately being called out on his BS lol this is great

twenty microdevices?? holy shit. that’s gonna make it really difficult for him to actually report back to the heroes

maybe if the PSC gives him twenty of their own little spy cams. then the only challenge is for him to try and remember which are which

lmao look at this little metaphorical drawing

isn’t this the Hyrule Castle level from Breath of the Wild

anyways don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here trying to figure out if there’s a double meaning to these two panels

is Skeptic just really bad at making small talk, or is there something here that I’m totally missing?? did he witness something during Hawks’s coffee run?

(ETA: this seriously reads to me as some kind of coded threat, but it makes no sense given the rest of the conversation. he goes on and on about how useful Hawks will be in helping them spy on the heroes, but then calls attention to him sneaking out to buy a single can of coffee. in conclusion I am probably overthinking this way too much, but it’s odd. maybe he really is just trying to be nice and coming off as weird and creepy.)

now we’re flashing back to Hawks’s last report to the PSC

if this is after he met up with Dabi then why does he still have the bag? WHEN WILL THIS STOP HAUNTING ME. I’M SO TIRED OF WAKING UP AT NIGHT IN A COLD SWEAT ONLY TO SEE HAWK’S BACKPACK STANDING THERE RIGHT NEXT TO MY BED, WATCHING

-- SDLKGHSLDKHFL

lmao this scared the shit out of me. Enji what the fuck

yesssss it’s mah boisssss

wow, he’s pretty weirdly enthused about the whole thing, huh? I expected him to bitch about it more. since Shouto basically offered his friends the gig all on his own without any consultation whatsoever. that’s called nepotism Shouto but it’s okay I forgive you

anyways. so are the Endeavor offices located in THE FUTURE. or what. is this Epcot

DKFJWELKFJL

LOL THAT’S MORE LIKE IT. FOR A MOMENT I THOUGHT WE HAD SLIPPED INTO SOME WEIRD ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

hahaha exactly

well I’m glad I’m not going crazy, at any rate. anyways though, Endeavor trying his best to be a good dad and caving in to his son’s ridiculous demands because he’s trying to make up for TWO DECADES OF BEING COMPLETE GARBAGE is pleasing to me as always. deal with it Endeav

HE SAID DEAL WITH IT!!

oh my god Katsuki is saying something holy shit, the next few panels will set the stage for what could be the sleeper hit character dynamic of the year. ghghkghhhhhh

( ⁰ o ⁰ )

oh my god

(ETA: Katsuki I have written whole essays about how perceptive you are and then you just. sob. now that he’s finally starting to ease up on the whole Angry Asshole thing, his inner dumbass is really shining through.)

YES HE IS AND THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO, YOUR BOURGEOIS SON HAS FALLEN IN WITH THIS CHURLISH ROUGHNECK FROM THE HOOD, DIE MAD ABOUT IT!!

lmaooo

that mental image omfg. HE WILL PUT UP WITH THIS SUFFERING IN ORDER TO GET CLOSER TO HIS GOAL. what a sacrifice. the pros outweighed the cons. it’s logic. I can’t, I

and Endeavor being so fucking mad that Shouto picked this asshole to be his new best friend sob. YOU CAN’T STOP THEIR BROMANCE IT IS UNFOLDING BEFORE YOUR VERY EYES

anyways I love everything and I’m all set for the mentoring to begin. bring it onnnn

so now Deku is being surprisingly earnest and thanking Endeavor for accepting them into his agency

and we’re getting our first glimpse of Deku’s Upgraded Feelings About Endeavor oooooh juicy

Deku is so good at seeing into people’s hearts. and so forgiving. we already knew he was -- the inciting event that led to the whole fucking series wouldn’t have even happened if he wasn’t -- but I’m honestly still so impressed every time I see it

(ETA: and also, this means that he still went and told him off during the sports festival even though he was scared of him. kid is the fucking role model to end all role models.)

also I’m already sensing that this chapter (and indeed, this entire arc) is going to prompt more Discourse up in the ol’ fandom. that’s going to be fun. anyways, I’ve already essayed more than once regarding Endeavor’s redemption arc, so I’m not going to spend too much time hashing out the same old points. but basically my stance is I’m fine with it. I think it’s good to show that people can change no matter how far they’ve gone down the wrong path. it may not be easy, but if they’re genuinely remorseful, and if the desire is there, then why not? I’m not gonna get up in arms because someone is trying to become a better person. the alternative is that they stay terrible, and that doesn’t help anyone

anyway, so now we’re flashing back to what appears to be a conversation with All Might, and oh my god

but you guys. listen. Katsuki is there, again. they’re not even discussing OFA this time and he’s still there! elbowed his way into this mentorship like the determined little shit he is, and now he’s not leaving and you all just have to deal with it. oh my god it’s everything I ever wanted, someone please pinch me is this real??

lol and now they are discussing OFA, but that’s okay. it’s only natural that would also be on the agenda

really, All Might?

you consider that “just fine”? that bloop? just as planned?? I know you love your son, but maybe consider raising the bar for him just a little bit. he is capable of so much more, and now of all times is not the time to go easy on him

and he’s still talking about the SIXQUIRKS as though unlocking more of them right now would be a bad thing. I really think this is the wrong approach. maybe I just want to see Deku go buck wild and fucking lose it though, idk

Katsuki has no patience for this either

“I don’t doubt it.” please Deku we’re not worthy of you and your wholesomeness. and he’s so sincere, too?? how does Kacchan continuously absorb all of this shameless admiration and affection day after day, week after week. how is he not humbled by it

anyways time to shut up about that though because All Might is now mentoring Bakugou directly and this requires my full fucking attention

yessss let the character development commence! I’m so excited ddhkshl

and now we’re back in the present and the conversation is taking a very interesting turn!

YES! HE DID! DO YOU REMEMBER? YOU WEREN’T REALLY PAYING ATTENTION BEFORE BECAUSE YOU WERE STILL IN ASSHOLE MODE. what do you have to say about it now?

...

mysterious

what

(ETA: “is he always like this?”)

lol what

hahaha. this arc is off to a fucking hysterical start

oh snap y’all look at this

100% chance Deku is right fucking behind him lol. probably they all are

YEP

BITCH, WHO THE FUCK DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DEALING WITH. YOU THOUGHT THESE WERE JUST ANY OLD INTERNS?? FUCK YOU, THESE ARE PREMIUM, CLUB-LEVEL, OCEAN VIEW INTERNS, YOU UNAPPRECIATIVE LOUT. YOU INGRATE

lol but he’s not missing a beat though, and he’s ordering them to stay behind and watch him oh shit. what is even going on

now we’re cutting to some fucking yogi bobbing around town in a lotus position screaming about a divine revelation he received from fucking space. okay

AHHH WHAT

HAWKS IS ALREADY GETTING IN ON THE ACTION, JESUS CHRIST. DOES THIS FUCKER EVER PUT ON THE BRAKES?? THIS ARC IS LIKE TWELVE DIFFERENT PLOTLINES INTERSECTING ALL AT ONCE AND I CAN BARELY KEEP UP. THIS SHIT IS A TRAINWRECK WAITING TO HAPPEN AND I’M STANDING HERE MESMERIZED

BUT!!!

cue Celine Dion’s “All by Myself” while I fall down dramatically nooooo. the lord giveth and he taketh away. YOU OPENED A DOOR AND CLOSED THE WINDOW YOU BASTARD sob why

well shit. and that means that Katsuki has only one chapter left to reveal his hero name, too. (ETA: keeping track of the important things here lol.) and somehow I don’t see that happening unless the focus of the next chapter takes a very dramatic shift, since we seem to be launching into full plot mode before any of us even have our seatbelts on. not that I’m complaining about that because sdkljk

anyways. see y’all in two weeks I guess. the My Plots Academia arc sure is off to a crazy fucking start