#my name is emi and it's really nice to meet you!! c:

[musedblues]

Call It Fate Call It Karma

summary: In which your band gets signed to the same label as Queen, and Brian May takes a whole bunch of fun out of your new musical journey.

a/n: Here’s what to know… There’s an age gap! This takes place sometime in the 1980s and reader is in her twenty’s. There are also mentions of sex / sexual situations. (Not 18+ just be aware!) Here’s what’s been dubbed as The Bitchy Bri Fic! Title from this song!

w/c: 10k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Everything changed as you’d started to lose hope. And you owed it all to Jim Beach.

It was the afternoon you and your bandmates managed to sneak past the receptionist desk at EMI and present the reel of tape you called you an EP to a bored producer called Watts; Jim Beach was already occupying his office. By then, you’d been to every other record label in the city and were prepared to be kicked out of this one all the same.

But then the producer agreed to listen to your tape. Watts sat with his feet on his desk and a glazed over look in his eye as two of your only three songs played. Jim spoke up from the back of the room when your third and final song started to crackle to life.

“Well, aren’t you going to give them a shot?” He asked, in a warm, gentle tone.

“What are you three called?” Watts asked.

“Loba.” Wilda piped up, picking her nails in place of her guitar.

“It means ‘she wolf’ in Spanish.” Joane pointed out, twisting strands of her pale fringe as she perched on the edge of the bench at your side.

“Can you lot throw together the couple hundred bucks it takes to record, by the end of next week?” The producer asked.

“Yes.” You spoke up, though you weren’t sure how you’d get the money, this was the opportunity of a lifetime.

“Beach! Manage these lady wolves, will you?” Watts dragged his feet back to the floor with a thud.

“Me? I-I well,”

“You’ve got Queen, and who else? No one.” Watts exasperated. “McCartney has half our staff on lockdown this month and Iron Maiden has already gotten our three best workers to quit. You liked this mediocre garage rock well enough to say something…” The producer gathered your tape and tossed it to the manager with kind eyes and a smile under his furrowed brow. “Now everyone leave my office.”

You’d barely processed the life changing news as Jim turned toward you and your band with a grin that just kept growing.

“What do ya say, girls? Wanna make a record?”

///

You worked overtime and Joane got a second odd job to come up with the money to make a real-life record. And in a matter of a couple of months, you had an all new stage show, a new shiny Fender bass, and your very own album.

Well, almost. The record was in the final processes of being pressed. Watts helped put it together with his feet propped on the soundboard he manned. Past his usual cigar, he mumbled suggestions and even some encouragement; as you Wilda and Joane perfected the songs from your EP and threw together a couple more. Joane was praised for tightening her drum kit and bringing back up sticks. Wilda’s method of retuning her prized guitar worked without a hitch. You sang all your worries away with your bass playing in time. It was as easy as ever to work together, and one thousand times more terrifying all the same.

Jim lingered by on days like those, and on nights you’d booked gigs at local pubs and places of the like. On tea breaks, and in storage closets turned green rooms, Jim helped you and the girls make plans for the future. He carried around a pad of paper to jot down every time one of you thought up a new goal or two.

You went on and on about the sounds you heard in your head, and how you dreamed of bringing them to life. Of the words you longed to share with the world, and your favourite old tunes that never failed to inspire and excite.

Wilda dreamed of parties and people and places, the things she’d say on guest appearances and press tours. She dreamed of stages much more grandiose than the rickety old ones you were so familiar with now.

“We’d quite like to be as big as that other band of yours, one day.” Joane quipped, to a smiley Jim Beach. She was always going on about Queen. Bet she never dreamed of being graced with the assistance of her favourite band’s very own manager.

“No worries there.” Jim chuckled. “You ladies are a well-oiled machine compared to those four old bats. You’ll see for yourself tomorrow at the party.” He seemed to raise a brow like an omen but you couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear.

///

Your first ever album had been slowly climbing the charts since it’s release at the start of the week. When your single aired for the first time, Joane parked her old beaten down truck outside of your flat and turned her car’s radio up all the way. You dismissed your neighbour’s pleas for peace and quiet by hopping in your drummers ride and speeding away to EMI, squealing along to your very own song the whole way there.

You met your guitarist outside of the company’s biggest office. Inside, the three of you hurried through a few pages of papers, and scribbled your signatures along odd dotted lines. Just like that, you were signed.

Even though Loba was gifted a bottle of champagne and a couple of snapshots to prove it, the label decided a proper party was in order to welcome you. Apparently, EMI liked to use every excuse they could to make use of their loft and it’s impressive bar top that wrapped around nearly every wall.

So no sooner than you’d shuffled into the head office, you were escorted out and up to the very top floor. The party, Jim said, was already in full swing.

And that’s when you met his other band. Though he never said so outright, you could tell Jim was most excited to introduce you to the only other group he’d had the pleasure of working with till now. Behind poorly placed streamers and the backs of people too busy carrying on conversations to notice you, there was Queen. All lazily huddled together against a spot at the long and winding bar.

When Jim made his presences known, you and the girls stopped in your tracks and traded a few nervous glances.

Freddie Mercury was all of a sudden shifting his weight before the lot of you, casting a sweeping gaze across each of your faces.

“Miami, are these the children you’ve adopted now that we’re all grown up?” Freddie asked, greeting the manager and turning his oxen eyes to your band. His champagne sloshed in the glass he held near his chest as he threw one arm around Jim’s shoulders.

“Awe, you talk about us?” You jabbed an elbow toward the manager though you couldn’t quite reach where he stood. As his grin only grew, the rest of the band shifted closer.

“Boys, meet the girls.” Jim smiled, introducing you each by name.

But you couldn’t be sure if Roger even heard the manager’s introduction. The blonde floated up to your guitarist like he’d been supernaturally dragged across the room to meet her. Wilda stood before him, trying desperately not to pick at her nails, and smiled. You wanted to laugh, but you wanted to hurl. It was just too much, the way Roger seemed to drool at the simple sight of her, like Pepe Le Pew.

“What are you lovely ladies called, again?” He asked in a voice just as rasped as you’d come to recognize over the radio. Wilda blanched and seemed to go shy all of a sudden, but you weren’t.

“Loba.” You shrugged speaking in the drummer’s direction.

“What?” John asked, stepping closer to the other side of you, standing taller than you expected him to be.

“It means she-wolf.” Joane piped up, reciting her favourite and well-practised line. It always saved her from going too quiet, that fact.

“Uh-huh.” Roger seemed to agree, shifting to stand at Wilda’s side instead of ogling her head on- holding her gaze all the same.

“Better than their almost name. Guess what it was, lads.” Jim raised a brow to Freddie. Oh no. With Joane likely having shut down at the mention of her old idea, and Wilda entirely preoccupied with whispering to Roger, everyone turned to glance at you- Left with no choice but to bury your embarrassment and answer.

“Doin’ Alright.” You admitted through a smile, because if you didn’t laugh, who would? It was your drummer, resident Queen fanatic’s idea, one you talked her out of shortly after joining.

“How bloody un-o-fucking-riginal,” Brain huffed and crossed his long arms over his chest.

You had barely officially met the guy. He loomed near the back of the gathering and stood in silence, till then. And you might have thought he’d only been joking if it wasn’t for the way his stoic expression remained unchanged when your eyes met his for the first ever time.

“Hate to break it to ya, but your name was already sort of taken, too.” You pointed out, giving a weak mocking curtsy at the vague mention of her majesty. Queen’s guitarist’s glare remained.

“Oh, I like this one. Good ear, Miami.” Freddie sauntered over and nudged you away from Brian’s burning gaze. Roger was pointing Wilda out to the balcony, where a rowdy group grew larger every time you glanced out beyond the open glass doors.

“Don’t mind him.” John cocked his head toward the sulking guitarist, and handed you a bubbly drink. “He’s in the middle of a divorce and a midlife crisis, it’s really quite the combination.”

“Poor thing.” You stuck your lip out on your turn in Brian’s direction, as Freddie yanked you toward the balcony, laughing all the while. The wild-haired guitarist watched you leave with an expression you couldn’t quite understand, though you wanted too.

But before the lot of you could spin your separate ways and dance until sunrise, one of the men from the head office stopped in front of everyone with a smile.

“Nice to see you’re all already so well acquainted.” He said, in a sickeningly posh tone. Roger draped an arm across Wilda’s slim shoulders as the rest of you hummed in agreeance.

“So how would you like to tour together, then?” The man grinned. Freddie flourished, making a grand gesture and saying something about how that was the best idea he’d ever heard in his life. Joane turned to you, not even attempting to hide her squeal of excitement. Jim shared a look with John, like a proud father.

“Good. Because that’s what the label wants.” The man nodded and turned to Jim with instructions to phone him to start planning. Freddie swept you away to kick off a night of fun, and when you turned to see if Brian cared at all, he was gone.

///

Your single topped the charts in the US. Jim came into your work, feigned an emergency and gathered the rest of your band to share the good news over a celebratory brunch. You might have won over the yanks, but Queen had stolen the hearts of billions long before you’d written your first tune. So it was naturally decided your band would open for the much more renowned group.

You turned your two weeks notice into your job, and blew your last paycheck on an all-new wardrobe. If you were going to prance around America with the likes of Queen, you had to look the part. Some platforms and a few dazzling dresses found their way into your suitcase a week before it was time to go.

By the time you met up with the other band at the airport, you knew Roger well enough to stick out your tongue as a greeting. He’d come around your flat once, trailing behind Wilda to crash a night out you’d been planning all week. And again to steal her away from your last band meeting. When you, Joane and Wilda sleepily trudged through the waiting gates, he stole your guitarist away for the third time, and you wondered what might become of them.

You were still dazzled by Freddie, charmed by his laugh and stunned when he insisted on sitting next to you on the plane ride over, to share gossip. All of his friends seemed just as taken with the ethereal singer, too. John sprung up from his catnap to go help Freddie find the best snacks the airport had to offer. And while Jim sat going over the schedule with Joane, Brian sat across from you with his arms crossed and his legs a mile apart.

“Are you excited?” You wondered because you really wanted to know if someone who’d done this a time or two was still thrilled by it. But mostly, you wanted to get the lanky guitarist to open up a little. If you were going to spend a whole month and a half near each other, wouldn’t it be nice to get to know the guy a little?

“I’m tired.” Brian nodded, his hazel eyes fluttering toward the windows.

“Lighten up Mr. May. You could have my job. Was just sent to phone Fred’s cats and we haven’t even left home.” A man as gangly as Brian shuffled to sit at your side, adjusting the sunglasses on his head that did little to hide his thinning hair.

“I’m Crystal, that’s Ratty.” The guy pointed across the lounge to another slim, long-haired fellow bent over an open acoustic guitar case.

“We’re everyone’s personal lackeys and will be glad to lend you ladies a hand all the same.”

You thanked the guy with a chuckle and felt charmed enough by his sudden kindness to admit your growing nerves. But then Freddie and John were back, and the plane was ready, and it was time to go on tour.

///

The first week flew by in a flash. You were jarred by the size of every new arena and crowd that filled the seats. You lost yourself entirely to the music that blared from the speakers at your band’s command; but never got used to hearing the songs you once plucked away at in your bedroom, fill stadiums.

Going from entertaining grotty pubs to seas full of people wasn’t something you ever expected to happen. The sound of their collective cheers directed to your band didn’t seem real. All you could do was play on, and sing with your friends until the time came to rush to another green room, catch your breath, and a glimpse of the headlining act.

You usually only saw Queen in passing- in revolving hotel doors or shuffling about the same backstage halls. If you weren’t on stage, your band was hauled off to radio stations for interviews while Queen partied on. And if your band had an afternoon to do as you pleased, Queen was off signing records and privately touring art museums.

But there were the rare occasions your paths crossed for longer than a minute or two. John would always make a point to ask after you, from time to time. He said you and the girls seemed to be handling the road like old champs.

“I’m too busy to be bothered with stage fright.” You laughed, when John asked how you looked so at home in front of the crowds that had started to sing along to the songs you played.

Where most of Queen felt like friends your parents warned against staying out past curfew with, John felt like your older brother; who waited up to sneak you back home with a kind word.

Freddie always invited you to the after parties and nights out, even when he knew Loba was meant to do a photoshoot one city away. And when you failed to show up, the singer would always say he’d missed you. And you believed him, because of the nights he’d sneak in your hotel room to share the last of the liquor that had knocked the rest of his bandmates cold. Freddie went out of his way to include you and the girls more often than not.

But Roger seemed to include himself in your groups circle any chance he could get. He trailed behind Wilda, sure, but he seemed genuinely fond of chatting away with you and Joane all the same. And when your guitarist and Queen’s drummer partook in their weekly game of playing hard to get, you were awarded tiny moments with just Roger.

Like the time everyone crashed before midnight, and the two of you stayed up by the quiet hotel poolside, with an acoustic. It wasn’t long before your goofing around turned into some kind of jam session, and you were writing a song together. Roger insisted you keep it to use, and left the cocktail napkin full of scribbled lyrics tucked between the strings of Wilda’s guitar that you’d been left in charge of.

Then, there was Brian.

He strolled ahead of you off of the riverboat where both of your groups had been invited to enjoy a day off, cruising around somewhere in America’s deep south. You couldn’t help but watch Brian’s figure move as it seemed to tower just over all the people at his side. It was time to head back to the hotel, or at least, time for your freshwater adventure to end. Everyone was glad for the easy-going ride, still tired from the night before.

Maybe that’s why he was so quiet all afternoon. Brian usually was, but there was something more to his silence today. And you didn’t know the guy well enough to figure, or dare ask why. The weather was nice, and Queen was received with reverence every place they went. Brian had no reason to sulk- none you could possibly understand.

A slew of people with cameras and questions flocked to the boat docks as the one and only Freddie led the way, pretending to introduce Crystal as some kind of rockstar in his own right. The roadie ate up the attention as Brian’s pace set your own. You couldn’t move until he did. And while he stalled, cameras flashed and a desperate middle-aged man held a skinny microphone toward the band.

“Brian, how are you finding America?” They asked in a mousy pitch.

“Oh, it’s lovely here, as always.” Brian politely grinned, curling his fists in his jacket pockets, from what you could see.

“How’s touring with another group? Queen usually don’t need the support of an opening act.”

“Right.” Brian seemed to agree in a curiously cynical tone.

“They’re called Loba, and we quite like having them around.” Roger was suddenly shaking your shoulders like an overzealous coach. You chuckled at his antics as Brian dared to glimpse at the commotion.

He turned his gaze over his shoulder to look at you for a moment. It might have been the most exciting part of your whole day, considering how Brian hardly ever looked your way till now. But why did it have to be like that? What did you ever do to the guy?

The best you’d ever gotten from Brian was an empty hum when asked if he cared if you sat in the only open seat at his side, during some dinner. And over that meal, he chattered away with the likes of his band, and even yours. And maybe it was because you became utterly paranoid by his silence to break it with all of the questions you had for the guy. But he never spoke to you. The seat at Brian side seemed a void in his peripheral. And you were growing a bit anxious by the thought of actually being invisible to Brian. So you started speaking up.

When Freddie asked you with help on matching one of his many jackets with a pair of trousers, you’d already made up your mind, but twisted around to ask what Brian thought. His brows upturned in a painfully confused expression as he hesitantly gave his answer to Freddie’s clothing debacle. You got your own answer too, that at least Brian heard a voice coming from the space you existed in.

When both tour buses stopped for gas one random midnight; Roger raced you into the convenience store and distracted you from buying anything in place of dancing to The Cars tune crackling from the overhead speakers. Your spontaneous party was broken up when Brian breezed by with his freshly purchased candy bar in hand.

“We are on a schedule you know?” He glared your way on his turn to leave.

“I’m sorry you weren’t invited to the dance party Bri.” You mused, stopping the guy in his tracks, who turned to look at you in the way he did. “We’ll let you sulk in the corner of our next one, since it would obviously kill you to actually join in the fun.”

But all that got you was a roll of Brian’s hazel eyes and a cackle from Roger. That was the norm. Brian either seemed to pretend you weren’t there, or traded you bone chilling glares like you’d wronged him in a past life. But you’d never known less of a person than you’d known of Brian May, and you were beginning to wonder if going about finding out more was worth it.

///

By the time your next soundcheck came, Queen had nothing better to do than bop about the stadium to wait their turn. You and the girls rushed through your usual set up but decided to change things around for your second to the last song. And while you started to unplug it was decided Joane would have to turn a certain drum fill into a solo while Wilda rushed off stage to retune her only electric guitar to properly close out the show.

Brian overheard, from the place he stood arguing over an amp with Ratty, who’d kindly agreed to stick close by your band during times like now. The roadie shuffled over to take your bass away, while Brian issued a complaint.

“You’re going to retune? Just use a bloody capo and don’t waste everyone’s time.” Brian shifted his weight, furrowing his brow your way. Though you weren’t the guitarist in question, you seemed to be the one and only person Brian felt most comfortable yapping at.

“There’s more than one way to do things, you know?” You pointed.

“Yeah,” Brian shrugged, agreeing with you in a breathtaking turn of events. But then again, not really… “The right way and the wrong way.”

“Christ no wonder you’re divorced.” You shook your head in the guy’s direction. His eyes might have been pretty if they weren’t burning into yours with such disdain. Then you both made a show of storming past each other. You were getting really sick of his attitude, and what it did to yours.

///

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no!” You cried, cradling your bass that had fallen from the stand to the concrete floor below. The neck was ever so slightly cracked and a tuning peg was bent and your heart was near stopping. When you looked up from the ground, you saw Ratty cursing out one of the stadiums impish young stagehands. The kid had blown an amp and sent it smoking, and your guitar flying off the stage in his rush to run from the trouble he’d stirred.

You clutched your one and only instrument to your chest and hurried away for help. Ratty was wrestling the broken amp, Crystal was nowhere to be seen, and John was off phoning home. You recalled the sights of the city from yesterday’s afternoon off. There was a guitar shop across from the Chinese place where you stopped for lunch.

So you raced past Joane and shouted that you’d be back in an hour. The exact amount of time you had until it was time to go on stage.

You ran down the city streets with your bass in your arms like a wounded child. The guitar shop appeared like a beacon.

Inside was blaring a song by Led Zeppelin you might have wanted to sing along too if your heart wasn’t in your throat. There was a mass of teenaged boys crowded the counter. You waited, held your breath and checked the clock as it ticked away at a frightening speed. By the time the boys buying strings and straps shuffled away, you threw your broken baby to the older man behind the counter. He assured you the fix would be a breeze and tried to sell you an overpriced Gibson while you waited. You stood drumming beats on the sales counter and tried not to scream when the clock showed you’d only had ten minutes left to waste. A couple more later, your bass was in your grasp. You threw an extra bit of cash to the guy and ran off in a flurry, praying to make it on time.

You’d never ran so fast, certainly. You didn’t even have time to apologize to a kid on a bike who had to swerve out of your way. You burst through the back doors of the stadium, much to the shock of the doorman. When he shouted at you to take it easy, you ceased running to walk as fast as you could toward the green room.

Brian was the first familiar face to greet you after the nerve-wracking scene.

“So nice of you to finally show up.” He let out a mocking cheer from the place he kicked back on a torn leather sofa. So relaxed in his gloom. Your heart used to ache at the thought of his troubles. At the sight of his far off gaze as his friends joked on around him. When Freddie would drunkenly whisper to you details of Brian’s trying year. But the guitarist’s sneers your way were getting old, and the ache in your heart for him was slowly growing cold.

Freddie spun to greet you, let out a sigh of relief like an anxious mother, reaching out to adjust your shirt collar skewed under the strap of your instrument.

“Well, my guitar had to get fixed one way or the other. And unlike you, your highness, we haven’t got a gaggle of roadies to call upon.” You swatted Freddie away and snapped toward Brian.

“No, but what’s ours is yours. Next time ask for help.” John spoke like a stern father, tossing you a bottle of water and pointing toward the clock on the wall. You had about a minute to run out on stage.

“Let her learn the hard way, Deacy. She seems to like it that way.” Brian rang. You dashed away before you had time to curse him.

“Brian, stop being such a bitch, I mean, my God.” Freddie whined as you stormed off, glad for once that someone else seemed fed up with the guitarist’s sharp tongue, too.

///

When the show was over, John insisted you hop along his band’s tour bus back to the hotel. The other two-thirds of your band were still enjoying the amenities of the afterparty, and you were in the middle of trading bass themed horror stories with Deacy. So he kept on talking as you walked to follow him, settling near the front of the ride as it travelled to your latest hotel.

As Queen shuffled to cross the bleak lot to get to the grandiose lodge, Brian was the last to leave. He shouldered past you with that same old sullen pout. His eyes caught yours for a moment before he took another step, but something about the usual interaction was the final straw for you.

“What the hell did I ever do to you?” You demanded to know, as Brian’s bandmates disappeared inside the hotel. Brian stalled reluctantly and turned to face you with pursed lips and the smallest shake of his head.

“Look,” He began, as you stood ready to get to the bottom of whatever this was. “I’ve really never meant to be so cross with you. And I’m sorry my temper’s been so easily getting the better of me. I am sorry.” Brian nodded. He looked exhausted, like this was the millionth time he’d had to give a similar speech, but he did so in such a genuine manner- that you could only stand and trade a perplexed gaze to the lanky guitarist.

“It’s… it’s best if we just keep to ourselves, yeah?” Brian concluded, turning away with one final nod. You didn’t get the chance to agree, or disagree, or understand what just happened before Brian was on his way, and you were on your own.

///

After the tour was said and done, a new year was just kicking off. And the label was pushing for another album right out the gate. You and the girls had two months to throw together a collection of new songs, and were struggling for most of the time to do just that.

The song Roger helped you write was the best one you had to offer, and Joane was nearly crippled under the stress of being creatively confined to a certain amount of time. You’d never had such a hard time working together before, and the pressure was building up between each of your bandmates in a way you were afraid of.

When Watts strolled in to take control of the soundboard you’d been fiddling with all morning, you couldn’t help but to warn him against changing any of your settings. You and the girls were finally making some kind of progress, albeit bickering along the way. Poor Jim could only sorrily sigh each time one of you turned and ask for his help. This bit of work was a little outside of the managers league.

And Watts only seemed to egg you on, pressing the few buttons you asked him not to.

“You want to control this soundboard so bad, have at it.” He stood in a huff, “I only strongly suggest you don’t fuck this up.” The producer hissed before slipping out of the door. He smiled a smile that made you queasy, and you nodded knowing full well you were on thin ice.

Jim left you and the girls to fight over tempos and key changes and came back from the studio’s kitchenette with an unexpected announcement.

“Brian is coming.” He said, matter of factly.

“What’d you call him for?” Joane groaned from the floor, where she laid fiddling with her kit.

“Because Queen is the best help I know. But Freddies in Barcelona, John’s with his family, Roger is MIA and Brian is right down the road. You lot have a day left, and I’m running out of helpful ideas. And quite frankly, you girls are in need of a lot of it.”

“Yeah, maybe, but now nothing will get done.” Joane countered. “Not with the way he and y/n square off like old alley cats.”

“He’ll be here in five. Come on lady wolves… Claws up, plugs in.” Jim pointed as he sat back down on the studio sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Wilda shot into a speech, begging you over and over to keep it cool. The sooner you started, the better. She was right, and you wanted nothing more than to get this record finished. So with a nod, you accepted your fate.

Brian strolled in the studio right on time. His eyes looked desperate for sleep, and his already wild mane seemed even more unkempt. His small smile Jim’s way made you want to reach past the wall Brian put up, and shake his shoulders, and tell him it was okay to be actually happy once in a while.

Maybe it was the time that had passed since the tour. Maybe Brian forgot that he’d cared so little for you, and that’s why his faint grin lingered when his eyes met yours, past the glass of the recording booth. You willed your own weak smile his way, weary of this new civility, but just as tempted to take it in stride.

“Hello, ladies. Let’s see what you’re working with so far, shall we?” Brian leaned in and spoke just to you, it seemed. Maybe it was because you were closest, front and centre before the guy in a little glass box.

You’d felt more vulnerable than ever, under his forest coloured gaze. There was no place to run off and hide. You were right in Brian’s line of sight, right under his thumb, as he pressed a button stopped your band from playing to suggest a few dozen changes.

You knew he was here to help. And Jim looked so hopeful, tapping his foot to the beat in the corner of the room. So even though your throat was going dry as Brian settled his eyes on your bass- you played on. When he stopped you again, your blood began to boil.

“Please tell me you plan on adding a keyboard? A harmonica, something else?” Brian grimaced.

“We only play on the record what we can play on stage as a three-piece.” Joane raised a drumstick to make a point.

“Yeah well, it’s sure sounding that way.” The older and wiser musicians voice crackled through the speaker.

“Fuck you, that sounded good!” You hissed into the mic, wielding your bass like a weapon. That might'a been the best take you’d done all day.

“Yeah, but it didn’t sound great. If I turned my car radio on to that I’d fall asleep at the wheel. Joane, try using your snare on the bridge, instead of the cymbals. Y/n… from the top.” Brian sighed, sitting back in his chair like an exhausted parent.

You sighed too, adjusting your headphones and tossing Wilda a glare, a sign that you couldn’t keep your cool much longer.

You tried harder. But Brian kept stopping you. And every time he did, you couldn’t be stopped from cursing him just a little. If he’d only give you just one chance to find your rhythm, you might’ve made a whole record by now. When you told him as much, he let you play on for almost half a song before he’d stopped you again. When he did, you nearly exploded. But Joane snapped first. She got up from her kit, chucked her headphones, and stormed away. You slung your bass away to follow after her, but Wilda was quicker and raced out of the back to chase Joane down.

That left you with time enough to break out of the glass box and give Brian a few choice words.

“Way to fucking go, drill sergeant.” You gestured toward the guy who was slow to rise from his place before the soundboard.

“It’s not my fault she decided to-”

“Yeah, it is. Thanks for showing up and doing fuck all.”

“I came here to help you, and I could do if you’d stop acting like a damn child.” He pointed a finger your way, and the fire in his gaze sent a chill down your spine for the first time ever. You weren’t afraid of him. You were only stunned by the way he spoke to you. The way he always had. Why did Brian bother showing up here tonight?

“We might be able to take some of your suggestions if you stopped stopping us! Why don’t you just stick to pissing your own band off? You do it so well.”

You’d heard him trade sharper words with Queen. Roger told you that Brian was just working through some things. John said he’d always been like this. You just couldn’t understand why you got the worst of it.

“Well, it’s clear you’ve got more than enough hell to give your own group. You might sound less like the second place winners of your primary school’s talent show if you learned to stop making so many executive decisions.”

“I have a suggestion for you.” You decided, “Why don’t you take all your bleeding suggestions and fu-”

“Yeah, alright, let’s all take a break.” Jim intervened as you let out an exhausted sigh that doubled as a frustrated cry. The manager waved Brian over and the two men started to share a word as you stormed out of the back from fresh air and a clearer mind.

“He’s right you know. We sound like a washed-up wedding band.” Wilda shouted your way as she stayed leaning back against the hood of her car with a cigarette in hand.

“Where is Joane?” You asked, already knowing the answer. Wilda glanced at the empty parking spot where your drummer’s new mustang was earlier today. Great. Just what you needed.

“Right. Let’s forget everything, and finish. We’ll just… get it done.”

And so that’s what you did. Brian was gone when you ventured back in, and his absence left a familiar little ache in your heart. You didn’t like shouting at each other like cross siblings. You’d wanted to be his friend more than anything, at the start of all of this. The stars that might have aligned for that chance were all askew by now.

Jim left you and Wilda to go fetch some takeaway. Then he sat around the small table in the studio and shared dinner and some words of wisdom with the two of you. You thanked your manager for being so kind, and forgiving of your antics thus far. He chuckled and said something about having witnessed and dealt with much worse. Jim stayed a while longer, while you and Wilda worked together, and it was you who had to encourage the guy to go home and get some rest.

He entrusted the key to the place to you and your bandmate and left you to finish up for the evening. And you did, eventually. You and the eager guitarist listened back to the tapes and added in riffs and fills, and even a few of Brian’s suggestions; until well past midnight. But right on time for the label.

You could sleep soundly knowing you’d finished when you were meant to. But your dreams were full of worry that the record still wasn’t good enough.

///

“You did what?” Joane shrieked in the hall of your flat.

“We had to finish, Joane. You never came back, what else were supposed to do?” You yelled back, worry saturating your tone. It was far too early to be having this fight.

“You were supposed to wait for me!” Joane shouted, looking to you with big sad eyes. You rushed to remind her that you were out of time, and she could have shown back up and helped you finish, but she didn’t. And in her typical fashion, the drummer spun on her heels and stormed away, fringe flying far behind her shoulders as she shouted something about never coming back.

The girl had been known to fly off the handle on occasion. There was the time she drove your van away from a sketchy Welsh pub you travelled miles to play in, because Wilda called the drummers shoes ugly. Or the time she nearly chucked her cymbals from your third story flat window. You prayed that this episode was like the others you’d endured as you shut your door and rushed to get ready. It was time to take your record to the head office.

No one was particularly happy to find your three-piece only consisted of two when you showed up with Wilda to present your latest creation. Jim flashed a couple of smiles as the tracks played on, but all you noticed were Wilda’s shrugs. The record was done. But under unexpectedly trying circumstances and lacking a lot of help from your drummer. It wasn’t what you’d envisioned. The label still decided it was good enough, and sent you to fill a couple of talk show slots before the week was up.

You went with your guitarist to a couple of press junkets, and watched as your dazzling friend gave away answers she’d been practising since before you’d played your first gig. The only thing that made her umber eyes glow brighter was the sight of Roger Taylor waiting up after a certain interview. He invited her back to wherever it was he’d run off to, and Wilda had the decency to look toward you with a furrowed brow.

With a sigh, you agreed to handle the rest of the press on your own. Because she deserved to have the fun she’d been wishing for with the capricious drummer.

Four talk shows, three guest appearances, and one very hectic game show later, it was time for your record release. Roger phoned to assure he’d bring Wilda back in the nick of time. But Joane wasn’t answering her phone. You’d hoped after a bit of space that your drummer would come back around. But she wasn’t any place you’d gone to look. You spent until the witching hour driving to the places you knew she might have been and came up short.

When the time came to get ready for the party, half of your time getting ready was spent trying to hide the dark circles under your eyes. Before you left home, you took a couple of shots and prayed tonight wouldn’t crash and burn around you.

///

The mansion belonged to the head of the company, a place he’d invite people to when celebrations were too grandiose to fit in EMI’s loft. You wondered if you were the last to arrive when you opened the massive carved doors to find the stunning home littered with faces most of whom you didn’t recognize. One you did finally emerged from the crowd.

“Thank God you made it, I feared I’d have to put on a show instead.” Freddie chuckled, greeting you with glee. You ruffled the boa around his neck, thanked him for showing up, and wondered where you could find the drinks.

“I’ll take you round back dear, but you’d better hurry. The old important men are tired of waiting.” You could have explained how you’d waited up in hopes that Jonae would phone. And how when the phone did ring, it was Wilda worrying that she’d missed the only flight back home. But you only gave Freddie a sorry smile and spun into the garden. There was a bar in the veranda, where a handsome man made a show of mixing you a drink, making little passes along the way.

The time you thought you were stalling by answering all of the dude’s dumb questions was very soon interrupted. All of a sudden a towering guitarist was casting a shadow over you, and swiftly excusing the man behind the minibar.

“It’s about bloody time you showed up.” Brian rang in a mockingly sweet timbre. And as your stomach fluttered with nerves, you knew time was up. But how could you release a record without the rest of your band?

When you started to argue as much, Brian clamped his fingers around your arm like a vice and yanked you away from the bar and the drink you didn’t even get to try.

“Saving the day again, are you?” You rang dryly, as he towed you away. Brian’s face was set in its usual frown, one you’d become so familiar with that his smile on magazine covers made you look twice. He said nothing as he marched you out of the yard and into the mansion. You figured he’d part ways from you once you passed through the doors, but his grip didn’t loosen on the way down the empty marble hallway.

“Let me go.” You struggled, huffing out the words as you fought his grip and won. Before you had time to storm away, Brian spun to face you.

“Would you grow the fuck up? There is a room full of people depending on you and you’re acting like a fucking child, like always.”

“I’m not a child.” You hissed, curled your fists and glared up at Brian as he loomed over you. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His feet and fiery eye’s pointed to back you into the corner. But you wouldn’t let him get to you. “I’m trying my best it’s just not fucking good enough.”

A bit of a waver passed through your tone, as you targeted the words through your teeth. You watched Brian bend at the knee to look right in your eye, and pretended not to hold your breath.

“No, you aren’t.” Brian pointed a finger right at you and spoke in a low, unnerving rumble. “I’ve seen you at your best and I can guarantee you’re far from it, tonight.” He snarled, glaring you up and down with those dangerous hazel eyes. They raked over the span of your figure before landing on yours once more. “You look a bloody mess.”

“Because I’ve been running around till two in the damn morning, trying to find Joane! And when I couldn’t, I had to finish everything all on my own again. Because Roger took Wilda away and bought her nice pretty shoes and put her in good graces with all the higher-ups, and unlike her, I have to earn that shit myself.” You yelled, the dam holding back your bottled up emotion had crumbled in the overflow. You could feel the threat of tears stinging the backs of your eyes as Brian stood gaping at you in your outburst.

“So now I’ve lost my voice from all the interviews and the lack of sleep and I probably won’t be able to sing on tour to promote this shite album with a single you’ll switch off when it comes on the radio, anyway!”

And before you’d even stopped shouting, it seemed, Brian had his hands on either side of your face, and his lips pressed to yours. Your back was pushed to the wall and it took great effort not to melt down it with the way you were consumed by an all new kind of fire; mixed among the usual. But above it all, you were too shocked to kiss him back. Then you parted from each other, and past his unbuttoned top you watched the rise and fall of Brian’s chest while he caught his breath and stared at you.

“What the bloody hell was that?” You asked in a stunned hush. Brian blinked and shook his curls.

“I’m, I- I don’t- I didn’t mean-”

“You think you can just kiss me and, I don’t know, that everything is just magically going to be okay?” You wondered in a fluster, knowing there was nothing that could be done about the blush burning your cheeks. After months of frowning every time the two of you passed each other he kisses you?

“No. No I- I’ve always wanted to kiss you and I just thought I knew better than to do it.”  Brian held up a hand like he was swearing not to come closer. Talk about some seriously mixed messages.

“What?” You asked in an embarrassingly high squeak.

“I wanted to kiss you before I even knew your name. And it just seemed like the entirely wrong thing to do. So I shut you out, and my ire kept getting the better of me, and that’s not an excuse, just the truth,” Brian sighed, at what seemed like a sudden loss for words as his eyes searched yours.

“Well, you’ve gone and done it now.” You pointed out with the faintest laugh despite everything. Brian shook his head, asking, in a way, to understand what you were on about.

So you shook your head too, and latched onto his loose collar. You yanked Brian closer because you weren’t angry. You were actually feeling fine all of a sudden about everything. Only sure that you had to kiss him again good and proper. It was your first kiss with him, really, as your mouths moved together. Brian’s fingers were wrapped around your arm again, less claw-like than moments ago. And he didn’t seem too keen to break away from pushing you a little closer to the wall, a second time around.

But just as you lost yourself to the feeling of Brian’s frame moulded against your own, your name was hollered from somewhere down the hall. Music grew louder over the speakers that reached out to the sparsely decorated hall. Brian let you go, and you released your latch on his shirt to wipe your lips in a hurry.

But before you could scurry away, you watched Brian watch you prepare to bolt, and couldn’t help the small smile blooming across your face. He smiled, too.

You looked a mess. You were a mess. And you might’ve been one step away from fucking this whole thing up. But for the first time all year, you accepted it.

///

Your second record, somehow, was praised by the label and adored by the steadily growing following you’d gained. The old burnt out hippie man who ran your home town record store stood from his torn leather stool and applauded you, the day you came in to buy the Talking Heads new record.

“You’re really finding your sound, man.” The old hippie grinned. You told him to sit back down and thanked him despite your embarrassment. He asked you to autograph the cash box and gave you a discount on the album you bought.

After your single reached the top five in the charts, you talked Joane back around. It wasn’t easy. You had to promise you’d keep a cooler head, and she did too. She started stopping over every Sunday with a book of songs for you to think up a tune to, and turned the radio up every time one of your hits came on air. You laughed when she danced around your coffee table like it was the first time she was hearing your band name on the lips of a local dj.

Wilda cut all her hair off and wore the shoes Roger bought her everywhere. She talked about him after every breath, but you knew she hadn’t talked to him in months. Queen were busy planning a tour of Europe and trying to save the families that hadn’t already slipped through the cracks at the homes they bought but hardly visited.

You knew because you called Freddie to ask after Brian.

“Why are you asking about Brian?” You could hear the smile in Freddie’s voice, after he’d finished gabbing about the others.

“I want to know how all you boys are, naturally.” You panicked, realizing how lame your excuse was as you spoke it into the receiver. Freddie only hummed after a beat, and let another silence linger before speaking up again.

“I know you both secretly care for each other. Just give him time love, he’ll come around.” Freddie chirped before giving you a sweet farewell and hanging up.

Throughout your ever-changing year, Freddie had been more than kind to you. He’d become your friend. He gave away secrets like a kid at a slumber party. And when Brian came up in his conversation, Freddie always got serious. When the singer told you about the rough year Brian had been through, and the state of his well being, Freddie seemed to look at you with all of the seriousness in the world. Like he was desperate for you to understand. Did he know you were desperate to understand? Did he know Brian kissed you?

You could have phoned Brian. But you were too busy secretly hoping he’d ring you.

///

Your only notable call came from Jim, who gently nudged you to agree to being Queen’s opening act, once again.

“It’s what the fans want, according to the label. It’s what the label wants.” Jim explained, in the soft, kind, way that protected the guy from ever receiving a glare or harsh word from you, or Brian, you realized.

“We’ll do it, if the royal court isn’t up in arms.”

“Freddie said, and I quote, 'Beg her on my behalf and tell her I’ll fly home from Barcelona to do it myself if she even thinks of saying no.’”

So you called your band, packed a bag and showed up to the airport at five in the bloody morning with a smile on your face.

And then you were off. For the first week, a local band had been chosen from each new city, to open for Loba. By the time you, Wilda, and Joane took the stage, each audience of what seemed like billions were more electric than the last. You’d never had more fun, jumping around to the music you’d worked your ass off to create with the girls. You each ran off stage, changed in a flurry and ran back to the sidelines to watch Queen light up the black ink night. And like the last time, that was about the only time you’d see much of them- till one show got delayed when a wicked storm showed no signs of passing.

Roger took Wilda to dinner, and she followed his burning trail after about a minute of pretending she wasn’t at all interested. Joane made a speech about everyone catching up one sleep, before she crashed in your bed with her shoes still on. After unlacing her heavy boots and tossing them aside, you went to find your favourite band of boys gathering in the lobby with plans to go out.

“Now the party can really start.” Crystal grinned, reaching to wrap a strong arm around your neck as he pulled you to follow the gang to the limo in waiting. You broke loose of the roadies hold and shoved him into the back of the car before crouching in yourself.

A couple of girls you’d never met sat on either side of Freddie, and cast their doe eyes to John who scooted over to make room for you. And holding the bassist’s attention was Brian, who had yet to look your way all week. Ah, just like old times. You both had been busy. But you couldn’t stop from wondering if there was something more to it…

Had you upset Brian beyond your wildest dreams, when you kissed? Did he smile at you after it happened in the way people who were so angry did, that their furry appeared in a mask of calm?

Or… did you finally get him to shut up for good? Did he realize how unremarkable you were? That you weren’t even good enough to bicker with any longer? Pushing his buttons was one thing. But you always hated the times you and Brian paired harsh words with those deadly glares. Now that you were getting the silent treatment though, you’d take his arguing with you with a relieved smile.

Freddie pulled you along into a club adorned in sickening green uplighting. The purple-tinted insides held a crowded bar and a dance floor where patrons overflowed toward the restrooms. Some tune by The Velvet Underground was pulsing through the speakers as Freddie spun you around, dancing you both closer to the mass of people doing the same.

You noticed members of your group beginning to lose themselves in the crowd when you decided a drink was in order. The bar was packed, so much so that you nearly couldn’t turn to see who you’d wedged yourself against until you felt him tense up.

Brian kept his eyes on the wall decorated with drink options and dared not move as you shifted to notice him. His hip jabbed into your side, his white knuckles rested on the ledge of the bar brushed against your arm as he drew his hands together.

“Aren’t we going to talk about it?” You asked all of a sudden. If it were up to you, you would have cornered Brian like he’d cornered you, that night. But the tour had been so busy, and this was the closest you’d been since the night he pushed you against the wall… And you couldn’t take it anymore.

Still, Brian kept his eyes pointed front and said nothing.

“You kissed me first, ya know?” You spoke plainly, desperate for a response.

The barman shoved a tall drink toward Brian’s chest just then, at the same time Freddie reached past a few strangers to yank his guitarist toward the dance floor. As he was pulled away, Brian’s eyes swept over yours, and they were prettier than ever.

///

You’d nearly forgotten all your troubles that weekend, as everyone rushed to make up the cancelled show with two in a row, and one another city away with no time to sleep, not really.

After a montage of screaming crowds, ringing guitars, and squirming in and out of too-tight clothes, a three day break awaited the lot of you at long last. You trekked behind familiar faces down a lime green hotel hall, and dreamed of sleeping until you were good and ready to wake up.

Freddie waved as he twirled into his room, and Roger followed Wilda all the way down the hall. And while you watched your feet move toward your room number a few dozen doors away, you were stopped in your tracks.

You grinned when you recognized the feeling of the fingers around your arm, and the way Brian dragged you in his tow. You didn’t have far to go, just behind the door he was already closing in one swift move…

And in a flash, the door was shut and he was kissing you like how he did before, without a word, all of a sudden. Like he was trying to suck the life out of you. You kissed him right back, like you’d been dreaming of doing since you knew how nice it was.

And then you shoved him away. Because you wanted this, but not like last time.

“You’re not going to leave me in the quiet after tonight are you? I might at least be able to stand the radio silence if I knew what it was all about.” You searched Brian’s face in the dark. All the while, you kept ahold of his shirt sleeves and slowly found your way to his haphazardly made hotel bed.

“I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” You couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d treated you with all the interest of a passive-aggressive house cat since the day you met. Brian went quiet as you guided him to sit on the mattress, leary to close the space between you until he spoke up again. Though his long fingers fell feather-light against your hips, you only kept yours on his shoulders and held his gaze, silently hoping he’d speak up again.

“Of how desperately I’ve always wanted you.” He whispered while his fingers curled to grip you the slightest bit closer. “There were about one thousand reasons I was afraid of ever kissing you, and they all seemed even scarier after I did.”

Brian let his eyes rake up your figure before meeting your own. His lips were close enough to brush yours now. It made such sense, now. All those looks weren’t really glares. All those bitter words weren’t so malice. The tension that lied between you and Brian was all to do with how badly you’d wanted to be this close all along.

Maybe he was afraid to cross that line, because of all the love he’d so recently lost. Or maybe it was because of how young and dumb you really were. And maybe it was because of something you wouldn’t come to find out for a while, yet. You decided there wasn’t time to worry over why, tonight. That could come later.

“I hope you realise now, there’s nothing to fear.” You wrapped a hand around Brian’s neck and watched his eyes search yours in the dark. Then he nodded, softly bumping his head against yours. He pulled you closer between his legs and kissed you. You pushed him to lay down and started on your mission to show Brian just how fond of him you really were.

“I’m still pissed that we could have been doing this ages ago.” You breathed a laugh as Brian’s teeth grazed your neck.

“Never could handle not getting your way, could you?” He hummed against the skin you’d started to expose.

“I mean it.” You chuckled, tugging at a few of Brian’s highlighted curls. His head lulled until he was looking at you again. Brian stayed perfectly fitted against you while his eyes peered into yours. You recognized the uncertain look on his face, but it was different than before. Softer. Sadder, maybe. 

“You really want this?” He asked in a soft timbre.

“Yes.” You nodded, tracing the length of his nose just because. A bit of quiet lingered after your assurance.

“But do you want me?” Brian asked in a hush. His sweet voice saturated in a worry you didn’t realize he had.

“Yeah,” You nodded again, searching his pretty hazel eyes as you placed both of your hands on the sides of his lovely face. “I want you Bri.”

The kiss you shared then was one that meant more than you knew a kiss could. There was something about Brian, a part of him you’d always longed to know. You felt closer than ever to that side of the guitarist now, when he deepened the kiss, and you felt him smile.

///

You woke up with a song in your head.  A melody left over from a dream. But instead of rushing to find a pen and paper, you rolled over to covet the warmth of your unexpected company.

Brian draped an arm across your middle and hummed in delight when you nuzzled closer. You stayed like that, perfectly content in the tangled up sheets, watching the patterns of the sun through the window on their slow shift across the room.

“We’re going to have to leave this bed at some point you know?” You sat up a little after dozing off for the third time in a row. Brian stayed happily tucked close to your side. “And someone is more than likely going to figure this out.”

“That’s fine by me.” Brian shrugged, peering up to you from the pillows you leaned against.

“We’re supposed to hate each other.” You reminded through a sleepy chuckle. Brian only grinned and blinked, conjuring up a thought.

“I never hated you. I might always be sorry for picking such fights. I did always want the best for you, I just had a nasty way saying so.” Brian murmured thoughtfully.

He caught your eye once more and the corners of his mouth turned up when he looked to find you were already staring at him, trying to memorize the perfect outline of his profile against the bright sunlight. You inched lower to meet his gaze, and said,

“I think we might’ve finally figured out what’s best for both of us.”

And the way Brian looked at you then sent a chill down your spine that raced back up and shot through your heart in one go.

“S'Just, sometimes you’re a real bitch.” You joked to fight the way your heart was beginning to beat like a drum. Because you weren’t quite brave enough to fall all the way in love yet. But you decided just as quickly that Brian was probably worth falling for.

“I know. And sometimes you’re fucking unbearable.” He countered with a smirk.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You noted with a laugh. You had it real bad for this guy. And that kind of scared the shit out of you. How could this have happened so quickly? How had you failed to see it coming? What if it was over no sooner than it began?

“But…” The only thing that broke through your hesitancy was Brian’s long fingers slowly trailing across your jaw.  "Do you want me?“ You echoed his statement from the night before, in a hush. You’d only just realized the depth in asking so.

"Yeah.” Brian said, wrapping a lean arm snug around your middle without a moment’s hesitation. “I want you.”

And he said so like he was trying to encapsulate all the things that made you whole and wonderful and unbearable all at once. And even then, you giggled before leaning in for a kiss.

You spent the rest of what was left of that morning doing all the things you’d done the night before. And when you decided to finally get dressed, you and Brian hopped into your clothes while squabbling over what and when to tell your friends.

You hoped you’d get to hear his maddening whinging on for the rest of forever. Because if it ever became too much, at least you’d finally discovered some pretty effective ways to shut each other up.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[lukneetoonz]

LITTLE GODDESS PART III

——————————————————————————-

Summary: As a newer goddess you think back on how you got to where you are; in the throne room sitting next to your husband, the god of the dead.

Pairing: Hades!Aizawa x fem!reader, DadNyx!Izuku x fem!reader platonic, MomSelene!Uraraka x reader platonic.

Warnings: Flirting, cussing, mentions of sexual frustration, overalls nothing bad.

Word Count: 3,446

A/N: Longer chapter, I'm hoping to make the rest of the chapters this long. Sorry if this one isn’t the best, I'm not feeling too well lately… but anyways I had fun writing this one. I’m excited for the party chapter!

NO ARTWORK POSTED IS MY OWN AND IS FOUND ON PINTEREST

——————————————————————————-

To say the end of the tour was awkward, would be an understatement. You didn’t know who that woman was, and you didn’t have any right to ask. But one thing was clear, she came to show that aizawa was her marked territory. Did things seem weird between them? Yes, but you’ve heard of the big threes many affairs and mistresses so it wouldn’t surprise you if she was one of them, maybe Aizawa’s favorite mistress. It was stupid that your heart even ached slightly at that thought when you’d just met the man.

“Ah, so how was the tour you two?” You didn’t realize you were back in front of Aizawa’s office until Hitoshi had spoken, looking up as you met his purple eyes that matched his lazy smirk. “So how do you like your new place of work beautiful? Is it everything you hoped it to be?” He mused, his hand reaching your hair and twirling a piece, making you blush and your mouth run dry as an angry king stood next to the both of you, glaring at his right hand man.

“Ahem. Hitoshi this is a place of business, not romance. Keep your hands to yourself will you?” The man's monotone voice was laced with jealousy, making Hitoshi’s grin wider, “I never hear you say that when Emi is in your office…” It was that woman’s name again… so they are a thing, looking away, you avoided the gazes of the men not realizing they both had challenging glares directed at each other. “Anyways, me and Y/N have some paperwork to fill out, but thank you for taking her on the tour aizawa.”

Before either you or Aizawa could argue, Hitoshi fizzed You away to his office and he dragged his feet to the couch and flopped down, a relaxing groan releasing from his mouth. “You can relax Y/N. I can tell we are gonna be great friends in the future…” Hitoshi’s voice was smug that matched his knowing smirk, eyes closing. “Now, I'm taking a nap, do as you please.”

*•*

This day was interesting so far, and it was only lunch. You had long left the purple haired man's office and figured it wouldn’t be bad to walk around, start to remember your way better. The only time you stopped was when you heard your stomach growl, your lips pursing as you sighed, “fuck… where was the café?” You started scrambling around, not knowing where to go, slightly freaking out.

“Yo! You lost pretty lady?!” A loud voice called out to you, making you whip around as you blushed and focused on the blonde haired man. “Uh, Yeah… I’m kinda new around here and I just want to find a place to eat.” The lanky Male came up to you and threw his arm over your shoulder, obviously not afraid of boundaries. “Well never fair, since your golden Olympian Male is here!” Suddenly it clicked and your eyes went wide, this must be the one they call Apollo…

Nodding you laughed it off, he sure does love himself doesn't he? “May I ask what you are doing here in the underworld? You are an Olympian that has nothing to do with the underworld.” The golden haired man laughed, a smile on his face. “Right you are gorgeous, but it so happens that me and the king himself are best friends! We are practically brothers!” Aizawa… and this man… practically brothers? You couldn’t believe it.

“Hizashi What did I tell you about coming here unannounced?” A familiar deep voice boomed through the space, making you blush and the man beside you smile brighter than before. Turning around faster than you can blink, he opened his arms for aizawa, “Aizawa! You know that if I call you’d say no, plus you love my company, admit it!” A giggle passed your lips as you looked at them, they completely contrasted one another and even thinking about their dynamic made you smile.

Aizawa’s eyes landed on you in shock and Hizashi turned to face you, “By the way Shouta, how come you didn’t tell me you hired someone as pretty as this one! I'd pay her to just take a drive-” Hizashi couldn't even finish the sentence when he shuddered by Aizawa’s cold and deadly stare. You didn’t even see it since you looked at the ground trying to hide your flustering face, moving a stray hair behind your ear, you smiled. “Well- thank you very much for your compliment…”

Your voice had Aizawa staring at you, mouth slightly agape as he clenched his jaw and looked away. Of course you’d have every god pining after you, why would he think he’d even have a small chance? The desperate stare did not go unnoticed by Hizashi and the wheels started turning in his head, a devious little smile on his face, “You know, I’m throwing a party tomorrow, you should come and get to know the rest of the gods.”

Nodding, a smile made its way onto your face. “Really? I’ve never been invited to anything like that before… thank you. I’m Y/N, I forgot to introduce myself.” A shy blush spread on your cheeks as aizawa could feel anger bubbling in him, he was never one for parties, but now he was… Hizashi smiled at you, ruffling your hair, “It’s gonna be fun. I’m sure everyone will love you, especially if Aizawa here seems to like your presence too.”

Head tilting with confused eyes, you didn’t understand. The king had just been showing you his grace since you were a new employee… right? Aizawa was practically glowing red before he dragged a laughing Hizashi off, “See y’a tomorrow Y/N!!” You waved him goodbye with a smile, still lost on where to eat…

*•*

As fast as the day came, it went. Going home, Izuku filled the air by asking you questions nonstop, but of course you answered everyone. The only thing on your mind however, was the party you were invited to. “Father, what’s your opinion on Hizashi?” Your voice was quiet but the question was loud as Izuku stopped in his tracks to eye you up and down with careful eyes, almost trying to check if you were harmed in any way shape or form.

“Did he hurt you? How do you know him? What happened, and you better tell me everything” His worried questions made you laugh as you stopped and smiled, “Nothing happened, I was just invited to his party tomorrow and I wanted to know your opinion on him.” You simply shrugged, making the green haired man sigh in relief before he took in your words and went wide eyed. “Party?!! Tomorrow!? Invited?!”

Honestly, Izuku was finding it hard to breathe as he clutched his chest. His reaction made you laugh as you hugged the man that swore to protect you with his life. “Father- calm down! We only met because I walked around by myself to get a feel of the place… it’s no big deal, I thought he was very nice.” The shrug of your shoulders matched your nonchalant tone, making Izuku feel many things. “Y/N, promise me that you’ll be safe, please.”

Nodding you looked at your father as you stepped into your house, “Does this mean I can go?” Izuku smiled with a sigh, “I can’t really stop you since you’re an adult… I just know that you are my stars and your mother is my moon. Without either of you I am nothing.” You smiled softly as you kissed your father's cheek, nodding and going to the kitchen, Uraraka already there making tea. “Hi momma, how was your day?” You greeted your mother with a kiss on the cheek and she smiled softly, looking at you with bright eyes.

“My little star! How was your first day? I hope Aizawa was kind…” Just the mention of his name made you blush as you looked away with a shy smile. “The king was very kind… but I’m sure it was just because I’m new.” As you ended your sentence you chuckled, making your mother smile. “Oh really? Well I’m glad to hear you had a nice time”

(E/C) eyes going wide, your cheeks heated up, “Mother! It wasn’t like that!! I swear… anyways I was invited to Hizashi’s party tomorrow” Your news made Uraraka smirk as she turned to you and handed you a glass of tea “Oh? I’m sure your father wasn’t happy about that…” The grin that made its way onto your face confirmed her answer, “He May not have been, but I still can go.” Nodding, Uraraka took a sip of her drink and looked at you with a sly smile, “Well I guess we should go shopping before then huh?”

*•*

The next day

As you walked into work, you couldn’t help but recheck your attire every minute. Why did you want to look so good? It wouldn’t matter in the long run… he wouldn’t see you in the same way. Groaning you rubbed your face as you walked through the menacing doors. You can do this, all you have to do is keep the souls in check… and not fall in love.

“You look troubled chickadee, something I can help you with?” An arm wrapped around you as you looked to your side to be met with familiar golden eyes, “I’m just- nervous for my first real day of work…” Keigo laughed as he smirked at you, “Awh, don’t be worried… if you want we can have lunch together” A devilish wink was sent your way making you blush, “Y-you don’t have too..” Keigo laughed, ruffling your hair as he tsked playfully.

“Psh, I want too. Plus I heard that you’re going to Hizashi’s party tonight… guess I’ll be seeing you there chickadee.” Keigo lowered his head to whisper in your hair and you squeaked and chuckled, looking at him with questioning eyes. “Are you flirting with me?” your voice came out shakey as you played with your fingers, Keigo laughed and poked your nose. “I can admit that I am since your father ain’t here…”

“Well quit it, Keigo. You wasting time makes me wonder why I pay you.” A deep voice interrupted your interaction and you snapped your eyes to meet glowing red ones, an automatic shiver going down your spine as you stared with parted lips. You have never been more turned on than seeing Aizawa look like this. Keigo rolled his eyes and took a step away from you, looking at Aizawa with an unamused look. “I just clocked in, get off my ass and get the stick out of yours.”

The statement only made Aizawa angrier as he tsked, but before he did anything, his eyes glanced at you and he calmed down. Taking a deep breath in, he glared at the red winged god, “You have 3 seconds to leave before I rip your wings out of your back.” Keigo held his glare for as long as he could before turning to you and winking, flying off. You turned to aizawa and gulped, feeling horrible that you were wasting company time. “I’m sorry about that, I’ll get to work right away… I don’t want to waste anymore time”

Aizawa’s eyes softened looking at you, his hand reaching out to grab your arm and he sighed as he gulped, “Don’t apologize little goddess… Keigo was acting wrongly, he should be apologizing.” His words, his touch, gods his everything made you want to melt as butterflies soared in your stomach. Nodding you met his eyes and smiled softly, “I-I wanted to ask yesterday, but I didn’t get the chance… are you going to Hizashi’s party?” Biting your plump lip, (e/c) doe eyes met Aizawa and the god cursed under his breath as he forced himself to look away.

“Ahem- I- yes. I’ll be there.” Why did he say he was going? Simple; you asked and you were also going. Stupid Aizawa… stupid stupid Aizawa. As he raked your face to see any type of reaction, he couldn’t place just one emotion as you slightly blushed and smiled big, nodding as you had bright eyes that looked at him. “Good… I'm glad you’re going to be there” The shock that ran through the raven haired man's body was evident as he sucked in a breath, looking at you to say you were kidding, but you never did.

“W-well… I’ll see you tonight Aizawa.” The distance you were creating caught his attention and he once again reached for you with wide eyes, “Shouta… you can call me shouta.” Shouta… his name alone was gorgeous. You nodded and moved your hand into his, giving it a friendly squeeze, “okay… shouta.” Finally You left to go where you were needed, leaving a speechless king in your wake, this wasn’t Nemuri, or her son Denki. This was him, his heart, fucking with him.

*•*

As you walked to lunch, you couldn’t help but feel slightly sad that the god you were eating with had golden locks and not black. Of course you knew that your parents fell in love within two days and got married on the third, that’s a common thing with gods and goddesses. But the thought alone scared you, how could you fall for someone you didn’t even know? Maybe your friend Denki was pulling a prank on you… he always did say that you needed to get laid so he wouldn’t have to smell your sexual frustration no matter how far away he was…

A groan left your lips as you went and grabbed some food from a restaurant in the food court, sitting down at the table that had the winged god, and the purple haired one…. along with the ash blonde? What the hell? “Am I interrupting something?” You regretted even speaking because all attention was immediately turned to you, making you look away nervously. “I see you finally made it chickadee… I’m sorry about these two, who rudely invited themselves.” Golden eyes glared at the other two men when Keigo finished talking, making you even more confused.

“Listen gorgeous, I just figured you wouldn’t want to be alone with chicken boy here for an hour alone, so I decided to be your Prince Charming” Hitoshi decided to speak as he smirked at you, leaning casually on his palm, eyes raking your body. Katsuki let out a scoff as he rolled his eyes, “Dumbasses. Both of you.” Hitoshi’s smirk turned devilish as he turned to Katsuki, “Oh? Then enlighten us on why you’re here…” Katsuki clenched his jaw as he huffed and glared at Hitoshi, “I- just figured I’d get to know Y/N… it’s the smart thing to do since she could get in the way with my work.”

Tilting your head, you looked at all of them like they were crazy. That was until a cute little blonde came up, giggling with mischief as she latched her arm with yours and tilted her head at the boys. “They’re trying to court you… isn’t it adorable! Could you imagine all of them doing your dirty work as you just relaxed? I wish I would get courted like this…” The blonde sighed and sat down, resting her head on her palms with a pout and you smiled at her, while Katsuki pushed her off a seat in disgust.

“We didn’t sit here for you to come and sit with us, Toga. So find somewhere else. Or someone else to bother.” His words were harsh as she pouted and you slightly pouted too, already liking her. “Well… since I don’t want to be courted, I’d much rather sit with Toga… shall we?” You smiled at the goddess and she giggled with glee and yanked on your hand, dragging you away, leaving furious gods in your wake. Both you laughed as you went and sat down, Toga somehow got a milkshake and was sipping on it as she looked at you with a devious look.

“So, new blood… what’s it like to have gods falling at your feet? I’m sure if you stubbed your toe, they’d all come crawling with gifts and first aid kits.” Her words made you blush as you stared at your food, “I didn’t even realize until you just told me… why would they want me? I’m just an immature goddess.” Toga laughed and poked your nose, “Thats why, because you don’t know anything about them, yet. You’re trusting, and they can practically smell that. Trust me when I say none of these gods are up to no good.” Oh how she sounded like your father… but maybe it’s because your father was right, and so was she.

“Maybe… anyway, I don’t mean to sound rude but you’re a goddess aren’t you? What do you do around here?” You were curious to know what she did because you’ve only seen Gods here, no goddesses. “You might know by the name Styx, which the mortals really did give me a delicious name didn’t they?” Your eyes went wide in realisation as you blushed, “oh my gods! I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you! I’m so sorry” Toga giggled as she smiled at you, leaning on her palms.

“Eh don’t worry about it new blood… you can owe me back by telling me why you aren’t interested in being courted.” Her bluntness made you blush as you played with your food, “Well… I just- I’d want to be pursued by the right man.. not just any guy, you know? If I find the right guy, I’d welcome it” Toga didn’t talk for a couple seconds as she took in the sight of you, before her face lit up in a teasing grin. “You already found someone didn’t you- AND he works here, doesn’t he?!” She gasped, bringing her hands to her face as you hid your own.

“Please, drop it… I don’t want- I don’t know what I want!” Toga laughed as she leaned onto the table, continuing to read you. Like how your eyes would blink and try to avoid looking at a place for too long, and how your body seemed extremely relaxed in the moment, despite the conversation. She knew, of course she knew. Toga could figure these things out easily, and the flint in her eyes gave it away she knew as she grabbed your cheeks and pulled you closer. “You like them powerful, don't you? That’s okay, if I was you I would too.”

You choked on your food as you looked her in her eyes sighing, “Please it’s really nothing, just don’t say anything… okay?” Toga giggled before nodding, “Okay, but you’re no fun new blood! Just be glad I like you.” Nodding, You pouted and looked at the time, “I’m going to a party tonight that he’ll be at… do you want to come with me?” Toga practically lit up like a Christmas tree as she nodded and stood up, “Yes! Oh this will be so much fun! I’ll be your wing woman and we will get you any guy you want!” Once again you blushed as you looked away, feeling your heartbeat in your chest.

“I don’t want just any guy…” you sighed out, leaning your head on the table. Toga stared at you and she already knew what she was going to do tonight before she faked a pout on her own face and pat your head, “Don’t worry Y/N…. If it’s meant to be then the fates will make sure it happens. Anyway, what’s the harm in a little fun? You are young…” Shrugging, you looked away and thought for a second. “Maybe you’re right… maybe I should let loose tonight. Then finally I won’t have to feel like this cause it’s weird.” Toga hid her grin and nodded, “Oh, trust me new blood, you’ll have a blast tonight.”

——————————————————————————-

Taglist; @present-mel @maya-ngpirit @a-match-into-themoon @nhievyenne @negansnumberonewifie @darkqueenhyde @minfani @creolepier @lhcartoonist @fairy-inthegarden @taylor----wonderland @the-british-koala @leeeah-loooser @vinaios

[socksual-innuendos]

So I was tagged by @yesjejunus for this and I’m doing a joint interview with Emi and Cam because why not. Art is also by yesjejunus

What is your name?

E: Who’s askin? C: Camila, and that's my sister Emilia.

How old are you?

E: Old enough to be your mother. Who’s askin?? C: 48, but I don’t really feel it. 

What do you look like?

E: Oh, good, I have jokes for this. ‘Why not just check my mug shot’ or 'Who is this interview for, the blind?’ oh! How about ‘use your damn eyes’?

C: Oh, ugh...well I use to have black hair and my skin wasn’t so...the way that it is, haha. Can we please move to the next question?

Where are you from? Where do you live now?

C: Mexico! I don’t remember much of it, actually. I mean I do but not enough of one place. We moved around a lot and most of it just looked like the wastes here. I don’t remember being told when we had made it into America, I don’t think it really clicked until we were half way through Arizona. We still moved around once we made it into the States and up until a few months ago we didn’t have a home. But we sort of do now! Right Em?

E: Yeah, we’ll see.

What was your childhood like?

E: Just like everyone else’s in some ways. Good at times, shitty at times, getting into way too much trouble at times. Heh, you know, the usual kid stuff and more.

C: Even when papa was around we still stayed with host families. Emi and Abuelita always seemed to be out doing something, mostly work I think, not that I could ever join them. When I was real little I would get sick so much. Papa wouldn’t let me out unsupervised, but he did trust Emi to take me places. Once he was gone things got a lot more strict. I think the host families didn’t want to chance me getting hurt or more sick. Abuelita agreed with them, but Emi would sneak me out and we’d play. 

What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions?

E: I’m friendly with plenty, whether or not they’re friendly with me is their problem. I guess the Chairmen are fine with me, BAH! I know the Omertas have it out for me, and if those damn pretentious White Chode Society fucks didn’t make a steak as good as they do they’d be a hole in the ground. Who else is there? No one that matters I guess-- Wait, those Boomers might be batshit but they know how to have a party! 

C: Oh! I’d like to think I’m friends with the Chairmen, but they’re really just my employers. Swank is nice, a bit of a flirt but he’s like that with everyone. Tommy is sweet too! He can be tough during practice but I can’t fault him for that. Although Emi doesn’t really like them I love the White Glove Society! They really make you feel like royalty-- And their spa is amazing. There’s nowhere like it in the world I swear. I just really enjoy their casino....Um, other than that I don’t really know any other factions. The Kings are funny, but Emi doesn’t really want me in Freeside without her or Cass or Arcade. She also says I am absolutely not to go near Gomorrah. I’ll admit I’m curious but it doesn’t really seem like a place you’d want to wear open toed shoes, you know?

Tell me about your best friend.

E: Only got Camila and Raul, really. Arcade’s good, a bit too idealistic for his age but whatever keeps you goin. Cass is pretty independent, but it’s part of why I like her. 

C: I have so many now! There’s Veronica, she’s probably the closest I’m to, oh and Sarah. I love my sister dearly but she was never into girlish things. But I have those two now! And they love doing all that stuff. Swank gives me a hard time when he comes around The Aces, but it’s all in good fun. Arcade is teaching me how to do computers, and it’s really helping with the Vault hotel. He’s a bit prickly but he still wants to teach me. I really do love them! I know she’s pretty defensive about our living space but I’m glad Emilia includes them in the 38, this place gets too big and lonely without people. 

Do you have a family? Tell me about them!

E: Cam’s all I need. And Raul’s here now. The others are nice to have around but...Family’s special. 

C: There use to be more of us...I never knew mom but Emi’s told me of her. Xiomara was my abuelita’s name, and my papa was around only when I was little. Then there was-- well, it’s not my place to say. Oh, but I have Raul now too. And Veronica, and Arcade, n Cass, Boone....they count. To me they do. 

What about a partner or partners?

E: Nope. Don’t need one. Not in that sense anyway. I don’t mind having regular lovers, but I don’t get attached like that. Friends suit me just fine. 

C: Not for me no. I mean I haven’t really thought of anyone like that...I haven’t really had the chance to. I mean I’ve thought about it before but nothing serious and definitely not at anyone in particular. I think it would be nice...but I’m just not sure. 

Who are your enemies, and why?

E: Enemies? Now why would anyone want to be enemies with me, I am nothing short of a delight. Although, I will say the Garrets’ opinions of me vary with how hefty my tab is. 

C: I really hope I don’t have enemies. I just got friends! One thing at a time please.

Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them?

E: Brotherhood of Kiss My Ass! Don’t get me wrong, they have cool shit and I love their archives but as long as New Vegas is what it is and as long as they do how they do, I hate them. 

C: Veronica’s told me a lot about them. Aside from the obvious, um, flaws, they sound interesting. I know Emi loves history stuff...This seems really complicated...

What about The Enclave?

E: Never heard of ‘em.

C: The who now?

How do you feel about Super Mutants?

C: I haven’t had the chance to properly meet any. Emi says some are like us and that others are just mindless and violent. We had heard about Jacobstown, that’s part of the reason we’re up here actually. Apparently its a home for the mutated. It sounded like a good idea at first-- it certainly was a smart one but...I like Vegas.

E: Tough sonsofbitches. They have no right being as fast as they are. Clumsy in close combat though. 

What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in?

E: Well, it wasn’t the craziest but I did get in a scuff with a mark’s security guard on top of a building. We ended up rolling off, and when I tried grappling my leg had tangled in my climbing cable-- That’s what fucked up my knee-- I ended up hitting the side of the building, having the wind knocked out of me, and then alerted the rest of the security team of an intruder when I broke a window to get back inside. Trying to get out of there with a dislocated knee was probably one of the best and worst adrenaline rushes I’ve had. 

C: Once Rosa and I had a really big miscommunication. I think that was the first time we ever got legitimately mad at each other. She ran off too cool down but I got worried and ah-- Um, things turned out fine, thankfully. Yeah.

Have you ever fought a Deathclaw?

E: Several, actually. Wait-- Ha! Actually, ask Arcade about this, I’m sure he’d love to tell you the story. 

C: Heavens no! I haven’t even seen one outside of pictures. They look terrifying, and Emilia says they’re very territorial and very aggressive. Hopefully I never have to. Although, Emi has said if I’ve ever wanted to see one we could go to the Thorn but animal fights? That seems needlessly cruel.

Do you like fighting?

E: Hell yeah! 

C: I don’t have the energy for conflict. I’d much rather talk it out, like adults. [Camila glares at Emilia]

What’s your weapon of choice?

E: Depends on the job. I love my sniper rifle, but sometimes a trick shot doesn’t have the right flair to it. It’s really about reading the situation and seeing whats available. Sure, you can blast someone’s brains out 2,000 meters away but where’s the fun in distance if no one knows how far it really is. Now, making a big deal out of a target, there’s the fun. You have to personalize each kill, let the mark and the world how premeditated it was. No, it didn’t have to be that complicated, but it was and someone put the effort in. That’s the sort of thing that let’s people know you’re better than them. 

C: I suppose a mic. I’m not really trained in anything, and I don’t really have a preference towards a weapon? Emi really should teach me but last time I brought it up...I’ll ask Raul.

How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination? (a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?)

E: It’s all skill baby. I give a prayer and Lord willing I succeed. That and a quick wit is all I need. (S5, P9, E6, C7, I6, A10, L0)

C: I mostly relied on Emilia to survive. Things have been complicated in the past, but she did what she needed to do. I try to be as polite and accommodating as I can though, at the very least people leave you alone if you’re not causing trouble. I got a job at the Vault 21 hotel! It doesn’t get as busy as the other places on the Strip, but it’s still something!  (S2, P6, E3, C10, I6, A3, L9)

Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them?

C: I work at a Vault! Sort of. It’s a hotel now and it’s been mostly destroyed....Sarah’s a bit afraid to be open about it, given how ‘gracious’ Mr. House was, but from what she said it was much more homey when she was little. She’s also told me about Vault life. I guess growing up underground really makes the concept easier huh? I hate being cooped up, but a roof always over her suits her just fine. ‘Though, I guess if the Vaults are as big as she says they were there would be plenty to do inside but...still...

E: I’ve been in a lot. It’s...humbling. All of them have their own unique story and connections to the old world. Reading about some of these people, their lives, their struggles? It’s like looking into other worlds. The dangers out in the wastes are one thing, its nature of man’s sin or the world’s design, but in the Vaults? It can be paradise or tailored evil. When man plays God, everyone suffers. But I suppose they were use to that kind of living. It is life, no? Just like out here. But even then, most of the time Vaults were safe. For those who first stepped out, they left that and saw nothing but, well, this. I can't imagine not having been able to grow up out here. It's shaped me, made me strong, and I can survive because of it. I don't lament my life being hard, like I said it's made me who I am, but I can't help but put myself in their shoes. Having to learn all this after a life in a Vault? That is a cruelty on its own.

How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you?

C: Well, you can see how it’s effected me. I’m just like any other ghoul I guess. Oh...I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for when my skin really starts to come off. Oh-- Ah! One good thing I suppose! I no longer get sick. I mean, I still get the fatigue and pain but I don’t get colds like I use to. That alone lets me do more than I could when I was a kid. Bright sides, right?

E: I don’t have an extra arm yet, so I don’t think its effected me much. I try to keep radaway on me though, it always has it’s uses. 

What’s your favorite wasteland critter?

C: Oh I love bloatflies! They’d kind of ugly, but also sort of cute? Just like me!

E: I’ll admit I have a certain fondness for our nightstalker Sawyer. There’s intelligence behind those eyes...well, some semblance of it anyway. Still, she’s here for a reason. Although...they’re not very common up here-- actually I don’t think I’ve seen any up here, but frogs. I really really love frogs. 

What’s your least favorite wasteland critter?

C: RADROACHES. I don’t see too many creatures thankfully but these manage to get everywhere and I hate it!

E: Centaurs are some unholy creation of man and should be purged from this life and the next. They and feral ghouls...I say a prayer for them before I pull the trigger. Whomever they were before they didn’t deserve that.

How do you feel about robots?

E: They’re fine for the most part. Just bits and bobs that can sometimes have a personality, although I’ve seen some being used to cheat death. Those ones are abominations. 

C: Yesman! Oh I love him. Ah, I’ve met other robots before too but I never got to know them well. Vegas doesn’t seem to have much aside from securitrons, though.  

How many caps do you have on you right now?

C: A lot more than what we--

E: That is absolutely none of their business!

Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla?

E: Sarsaparilla, easily. 

C: Emi just says that because nuka give her hives!

Do you do chems?

C: Emi made me swear never to touch Med-X. She told me it’s stronger than the stuff we use but nowhere near worth the addiction. I’ve seen some of what she means, so I don’t plan on breaking that promise. Colitas are just fine for me. 

E: Some of ‘em yeah. Mostly for work though. Heh, I even make my own brand of kick in the ass. Yeah...Flake’ll get you through just about anything. The high’s crazy but the crash is insane. I mostly prefer the natural stuff. Peyote comes in handy when I need a good bit of life insight.

Do you ever think about the Pre-War world?

E: A lot actually. It’s quite interesting, they lived a lot differently than us but at the same time not. It’s funny to see how routine human nature is. 

C: Sometimes. Emi still brings back old world books that she finds and I read them when I feel like it. The one’s with photographs are nice. A snapshot in time, as Emi says. She certainly finds them more interesting than I do. 

What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently?

C: I was very insistent one night, and I wish I hadn’t been. Things would have been different if I had just stayed in bed.  

E: Ha! You are asking an assassin what their biggest regret it. There is nothing, I assure you. 

What’s your biggest achievement? Or what do you hope to achieve?

C: I got a job! I have a home, I have friends. I’m...normal. Ha!

E: Ah hell, give me a minute to think of the nastiest bastard I’ve ever ‘in’directly put into power...

What do you want for the future? For yourself? Your friends? The world?

E: I’m getting old, I don’t need a future. And I’m just one person, the world will go on when I’m dead. Cam though, she’s got what? Centuries? That’s a long fuckin time to think about. Raul’s tried to tell me what it’s like but it just feels-- It just doesn’t click. No way in hell I’m making it that long. I just have to figure some way of making this place as secure as possible for Camila.

C: I just want to be independent! I love Emi dearly but she’s a bit much at times. Especially now...and I’m scared I won’t be able to do a lot on my own once she’s gone. Vegas is good for me. I have friends here and there’s jobs that I can manage. Even if Emi wants to move again, I’m staying. I have to. I have a future here, I can see it. 

[moonnightyoongi]

a thousand lives | jimin

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut, immortality!au (kinda)

word count: 3.5k

warning: swearing, smut

description: a freak accident when you were eighteen caused you to never grow old, after years of living and losing the ones you love - you meet Jimin.

a/n: based off the film The Age of Adaline.

You were 18 when you stole your parent’s car and took it out for a ride. The car was new, and you had no license, but Emie convinced you to steal it and to come pick her up so you could drive fast down an abandoned street and ‘feel the wind in your hair’.

But it hadn’t snowed in years; in fact, you had never seen snow. At first, you smiled at the snow, but as it got thicker and stuck to everything you changed your mind. Between trying to look where you were going and trying to get rid of the snow on the car window, it was no surprise when you car spun off the road and down a hill into the river below.

The freezing water lowered your temperature to below 35oC causing hypothermia to begin, but the shock had stopped your body from moving and had caused you to pass out, meaning the body’s normal reactions to help with hypothermia weren’t working.

You died at 10:07pm in the middle of the river, with the new car acting as your protection from the sea creatures.

But at 10:09pm, lightning struck loudly and crashed into your car, and you. Acting as a mother nature’s defibrillator, hundreds of electricity shot through your body causing your heart to start pumping and your eyes to open.

Like a scene out of Little Mermaid, you kicked open the car door and rushed up to the top of the sunlight zone to get air into your lungs.

Snow continued to fall; lightning continued to strike, but you never aged a minute from then on.

80 years later, you still looked like an 18-year-old girl, although you were (supposed to be) 98 years old. A lot had happened in 80 years, your best friend Emie died at the age of 67 (looking like a 67-year-old), your parents had died, you had moved 6 times to get away from suspicious people, you had changed your name 7 times, you had a daughter, you lost a husband.

“I think it’s weird,” your daughter Audrey says as you both walk down the street.

“What is?”

“That you’re my mother and while I look like a wrinkly 50-year-old, you don’t look a day over 18.”

“Strange,” you smile has you both walk down the street. A harsh bump on Audrey’s shoulder caused her to topple to the ground, but instead of the stranger continuing to run away he turned and ran over to apologise.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” the stranger asks.

“I’ll be fine,” Audrey answers as you and the stranger help her up.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask her.

“Quiet Y/N, I’m fine,” she answers smiling, you make eye contact with the black haired boy and smile weakly,

“Hi I’m Jimin,” he says.

“Y/N, this is Audrey,” you say.

“I’m going to go for a little walk, see you soon dear,” Audrey smiles,

“I’ll come with you,” you say.

“Don’t be silly, why don’t you talk to Jimin?”

“Erm,” you say looking at him as he smiles at you, “Okay then.”

“See you soon,” she smiles starting to walk away. Your attention is brought back to the black-haired boy standing in front of you with a smile.

“Let’s go this way,” he says pointing the opposite way Audrey went, you nod your head and you both start to walk right.

“Was she your mum?” Jimin asks.

“No, she’s my dau-, my friend.”

“Your friend? How old are you?” he asks, 98.

“18.”

“18, wow.”

“How old are you?”

“21, I suppose I’m too old for you,” he says, you laugh internally.

“No, I don’t think you are,” you smile.

“Then you’d say yes to a date at my apartment.”

“Why your apartment?” you inquire looking at me with raised eyebrows. Having a date in someone’s house in the 1920s was frowned upon, people would spread the rumour around and before you knew it everyone considered the woman a ‘slut’ and the man, well, the exact opposite.

“It’s quieter.”

“What will this date include?”

“Food and a movie.”

“What movie?”

“There’s a film that looks really good, we could watch that.”

“What’s it called?”

“The Age of Adaline,” he says.

“Your apartment is nice,” you say looking around it as you hold your drink in your hand.

“Thanks, I brought it a couple of days ago.”

“And you’re already unpacked?”

“Surprised?”

“A little bit,” you smile as plates up the food.

“I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m surprised you’re cooking as well, I remember when men refused to.”

“What? Were you born in the 1940s?” he laughs,

“No,” you laugh looking down. 1919.

“Here you go,” he smiles handing you a bowl of pasta and sauce.

“This looks nice,” you smile.

“Why thank you, why don’t we watch this film.”

“Okay, I’m excited,” you smile sitting on his couch with him as he presses play.

“What year did that film come out?” you ask as you stare at the credits on the screen.

“2015,” he answers looking at the information on the screen.

“2 years ago?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It seems realistic,” you say.

“I don’t think so, I don’t think that lightning can change someone’s genes to stop them aging.”

“You don’t?”

“God no, plus if it was true I think the Government would have them by now.”

“The Government? Why?”

“Because they’ll want to run tests, see how it’s possible?”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I would.”

“You would?”

“Well I wouldn’t run tests; I’d just want to know how it’s possible. Ask them some questions.”

“I have to go,” you say putting your bowl on the coffee table in front of you.

“What? Why?”

“I need to check on my friend that you knocked over.”

“Oh okay, can I at least have your number?”

“Erm.”

“Come on, please?”

“Okay sure,” you say grabbing a pen and writing it on his arm before grabbing your jacket and running out.

“Let me know how she is!” he shouts. You run down the apartment stairs so fast you start to get out of breath but you don’t stop until you reach Audrey’s house.

“We need to watch a film,” you tell her as you push her into the living room.

“What film?”

“Just watch it.”

“How was your date?”

“One thing at a time!” you shout as you look through Netflix and press play. She watched the movie with her mouth wide open, as if she couldn’t believe that it was real film.

“Holy crap Y/N,” Audrey says as the credits roll.

“Do you think that can reverse it? The defibrillator?”

“Don’t you dare,” Audrey says.

“I just want to know what you think.”

“That is a movie Y/N, not real life. No I don’t think it will reverse it.”

“Oh,” you whisper looking down, you want to believe it could do it.

“Did you have a nice time with him anyway?” she asks.

“Yeah, he was sweet.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t run away from him.”

“I won’t,” you say as your phone buzzes, “It’s him,”

“You smiled,” Audrey says.

“Shut up.”

“You like him.”

“I’ve just met him,” you say.

“But you like him,” she smiles.

“We just met,” you repeat as you answer the text and the texts that came after.

“Hey,” Jimin smiles when he opens his door.

“I brought cake,” you tell him lifting the box up and smiling widely

“What cake?” he asks with a raised eyebrow

“Chocolate,” you reply with a big smile.

“You can definitely come in.”

“Couldn’t I ‘definitely come in’ before?” you giggle placing the cake on his kitchen counter.

“It was push and go.”

“Damn, 4th date and it’s already push and go,” you laugh.

“6th date.”

“You count those little lunches as dates?” you ask him as you open the container that contained the cake.

“Any time I spend with you is a date.”

“Okay then, 6th date and it’s already push and go. That’s a new record for me.”

“When’s your birthday?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“When is your birthday?”

“31st December.”

“New Years Eve?”

“Yeah I was born on 31st December at 11:57pm, it was a dark night and the doctor got lost so my dad had to help my mother,” you laugh.

“Were the street lamps off?”

“No, they were on.”

“Why didn’t your mum go to the hospital?”

“We didn’t have a car.”

“Call for an ambulance?”

“The Doctor’s dealt with births.”

“What?”

“Cake?” you say quickly as you lick your thumb that was covered in icing.

“Yes please,” he says walking towards you.

“Here.”

“Thanks,” he smiles walking to his couch and sitting down, “My friends want to meet you.”

“They do?”

“Yeah, so do my family.”

“Kill two birds with one stone?” you ask hopefully.

“My parents are having an anniversary at my house this Saturday; the boys are going if you want to come too.”

“Yeah sure.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, do you have any siblings?”

“A brother.”

You look down at the cake in your hands and sigh quietly, “Me too, once.”

Late into the night the two of you were watching TV and laughing at some stupid joke when you felt Jimin hands run up your thigh causing you to shiver.

“Cold?” he asks pulling you closer to him.

“A little bit,” you whisper. His hand starts to move up and down your leg again,

“Jimin?” you ask.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing,” you say before deciding to take control by sitting on his lap and starting to kiss him. He hands move down to grab your ass as you start to rock gently on him, causing a grunt to leave his lips as you smile.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he whispers.

“You mean the mattress on the floor?” you laugh as he picks you up and continues to kiss you all the way to his bedroom.

“We broke it last time remember,” he says.

“I remember,” you smirk thinking to your 3rd date (5th to Jimin) when you were halfway through when the legs gave out and the bed collapsed on the floor.

It didn’t stop you two from finishing, between laughs.

“Good,” he smiles lying you down on the mattress on the floor as he pulls his t-shirt over his head and unbuttons his pants. You awkwardly pull the zip of your dress down before throwing it behind you.

“Holy shit,” he says as you lay completely naked in front of him.

“You can see the underwear in that tight dress.”

“Fuck,” he whispers leaning down to kiss you. You smirk as you run your hands up and down his chest before playing with his hair as he runs his hands down the curves of your body. He grabs your thighs and rests them on his sides as he slowly pushes into you, a gasp leaving your mouth and a smirk appearing on his face.

“You okay baby?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer as he starts to move. You pull his hair and run your nails down his back as he paces increases and decreases to tease you.

“Fuck,” you hiss as he slows his paces down again, you decide him teasing you is enough so you flip you both over and take control.

“Shit,” he whispers as you run your hands up his chest and move your hips in circles.

“I don’t like to be teased.”

“Hmm,” he smirks as you lift yourself up and stay above him.

“Neither do I.”

“That’s a shame.”

“It is,” he says pushing your thighs down, you scream loudly as he hits your g-spot perfectly and your legs start to shake a little.

“Fuck,” he whispers as you start to move up and down quickly. Your hands form a fist before they lay flat out on his chest as your legs shake and your bite back a scream.

“Shit!” Jimin shouts as he grabs your thighs and squeezes them together. You both pant heavily as you continue to sit on top of him before you roll off and lie next to him.

“Can I ask you something?” Jimin asks between breaths.

“Of course.”

“Why do I feel like you’ve lived a million lives?”

You turn your head to look at him, taking in his beauty as he breathed in and out quicker than normal. His black hair stuck to parts of his forehead from sweat, he was ethereal.

“Because I have,” you whisper looking at him in amazement. 98 years you had been alive, but never had you seen someone so beautiful, yet so unaware of it.

You look through your photo albums as you wait for Jimin to pick you up. 80 years of memories were held in 4 albums. Each of your friends, some who are long dead, are photographed next to you with smiles like they thought they would never die. Old boyfriends, some who are simply just not in your life, smile next to you with their arms around you like they thought you would be together forever. Your husband is the last picture in that album; he is sitting next to you as you drink from a wine glass with a smile on your face about something he said.

All these photo albums remind you of the pain.

The pain that you felt every day,

The pain being that your friends and loved ones will grow old with someone they love and die, while you cannot.

“Y/N? You ready?” Jimin asks. You slam the album shut and place it into the large trunk before running out to meet him in the hallway.

“Yes!”

“Whoa, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“You just seem flustered.”

“Nervous.”

“You have nothing to be nervous about, they’ll love you,” he smiles taking your hand in his.

“I hope so.”

“They will because I-,” he begins before he quietens down and looks around the empty hallway.

“Because I?” you frown, even though part of you knew what he was trying to say.

“Come on, otherwise we’ll be late,” he laughs grabbing your hand and leading you to his car.

The drive was quiet, it was mainly spent with music playing on the radio and the sound of Jimin’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

“We’re here!” Jimin shouts. Loud footsteps can be heard running from the kitchen until 2 tall men stood in the doorway and smile.

“So this is her?” One asks.

“Yes,” Jimin says rolling his eyes at him, “Y/N, this is Taehyung.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you smile.

“That’s Jungkook,” Jimin says.

“Hi,” you smile.

“Hello!” he says smiling widely at you. The sounds of feet on the stair case made you look up and you almost bolted out of the door there and then, his mother.

“Is this her?” his mum smiles running over and hugging him.

“It is, this is Y/N,” he smiles; she looks at you and frowns.

“Andrew! Come here!” she shouts, you look at Jimin afraid before someone who looks extremely similar to someone you used to know walks out.

“Yeah? Oh my God,” the dad says, “DAD!”

“What?” an older man says walking out of the living room with an angry face; you turn to look at him before seeing him.

“Emie’s friend?” he frowns.

“Who’s Emie?” Jimin asks.

“Grandma,” his mum says.

“Grandma was called Joan.”

“She changed it,” The old man, John, says.

“Why?”

“Because she wanted to,” his dad says. Your stare stays on John as he looks you up and down, confusion on his face.

“Strange, you look the exact same as you did when I first met you after the war.”

“I think you’re getting my mixed up with someone sir,” you say laughing slightly, trying to not look suspicious.

“But you look just like her!”

“A lot of people say I look like my grandma,” you say quickly.

“Ignore him dear, he’s 98,” Jimin’s mum tells you.

“Wow, that’s a good age,” you say.

“I feel 45,” John smiles winking at you.

“That’s good,” you laugh.

“You don’t look it,” Jimin says earning a light hit on his arm from his cane. You shake your head at Jimin and nudge him.

“Be nice,” you tell him.

As you and Jimin get ready for bed that night you hear him pacing,

“Why are you pacing?” you ask frustrated.

“I need to tell you something,” he says stopping and looking at you with a serious expression.

“What is it?”

“I think, I think I love you,” he says.

Late in the night, you ran.

“Where are you going?” A familiar voice asks as you walk down the long path that led to Jimin’s house. You turn your head and see John standing there with his cane.

“Away.”

“Why?”

“He told me he loved me.”

“So you’re running? Typical Esme,” he smiles.

“Esme?” you question swallowing loudly

“Don’t act oblivious Esme, I don’t know how this is possible but you look too much like Emie’s friend Esme to not be her.”

“Right.”

“Plus you have the same scare under your eyes from the car accident you were in with us.”

“I’ve been in a few car accidents.”

“So I’ve heard,” he says, “The first one caused this, didn’t it?”

“Yeah it did.”

“It’s like that film.”

“Yeah it is.”

“Do you think the defibrillator would work on you?”

“That’s a film, not real life,” you tell him running to your car and getting in it.

“You can’t leave him, you’ve left everyone,” the old man says shuffling towards your car.

“I must.”

“You mustn’t!”

“I need to!” you shout.

“Why?”

“Because!” you shout at him.

“Because what?” he sighs.

You put your head on the steering wheel and let out a shaky breath, “I didn’t want this.”

“Immortal life?”

“It’s not immortal. I can die, I just can’t grow old.”

“Why are you leaving my Grandson?”

“He loves me.”

“Why is that so bad?”

“Because,” you say.

“Because what? Tell me!” he says.

“Because I love him too,” you admit running your hands through your hair, “I can’t stay and watch someone I love grow old and die.”

“I understand, but you can’t just leave him.”

“I can’t stay, but I can’t break up with him because I love him too much for that.”

“If you love him, you wouldn’t leave him with no explanation,” he says, “It will eat him away for years.”

“I need to leave,” you say turning the car engine on and zooming quickly down the path. You saw Jimin running out of the house and freezing as he saw your car fall out of his view. Tears filled your eyes as you tried to drive carefully down the country road early in the morning. You love him, you love him so much that you didn’t know to feel. This felt so different than ever before, you had loved before but you had never loved with a love that was all-consuming.

You didn’t see the other car coming.

At 3:41am in the morning your car crashed off the road and down a hill, you fell out of the car and landed somewhere near it.

At 3:42am it started to snow, the snow caused your temperature to drop.

At 3:45am you heard Jimin screaming your name.

At 3:55am you heard sirens.

At 3:57am you died.

At 3:59am defibrillator pads were placed on your chest.

At 4:00am hundreds of volts surged through your body.

At 4:01am your eyes opened and you first breath in 4 minutes was breathed.

“Y/N?” Jimin asks with tears in his eyes.

“Ow,” you answer.

10 YEARS LATER

It had taken Jimin a couple of weeks to get used to the fact that you were actually supposed to be 98 and that you never age. But when he did get over it, he was confused and asked a lot of question, of course you answered every one but not without a few eye rolls at the stupid ones.

“We’re going to be late to your birthday meal!” Jimin shouts as you fix your hair in the mirror.

“Coming!” you laugh coming the last part of your hair. Put something made you stop.

“JIMIN!” you scream pulling it out and looking at it.

“What?! What’s wrong?” he asks running up the stairs and towards your bedroom where you were.

“It’s grey.”

“What?”

“My first grey hair,” you say.

“At 18? Oosh,” he laughs.

“No Jimin you don’t understand what this means!”

“What?”

“The defibrillator, it did what it did in that film we watched on our first date! Jimin I’m not 18 anymore, I’m 28!” you shout. His eyes widen as he looks at you,

“This means,” he begins.

“This means we can grow old together,” you say as he hugs you tightly.

“But still 28 and a grey hair, ouch,” he jokes as you hit his arm.

“This is just the beginning for us,” you tell him.

“Good, now let’s go to your 28th birthday.”

You smile widely and grab his hand, “Our life together starts now.”

This was something you’d always wanted, with someone you would always love.

writing | message

[askthedespairkids]

Some Shitty Foundation Short Stories

I managed to write 5 mini stories of the named anons “behind the scenes” so to speak, so it’s basically what goes on in the foundation when nobody is watching.

So basically, these fics are canon that I couldn’t show through asks. Unless something is seriously out of character. Sorry they’re kinda shit, I didn’t really put a whole lot of thought into them.

-That doesn’t make sense!-

 “Poly…amorous…?” Sadao tilted his head, Dragonous had simply let the word slip as the two were talking about Mage. The Ultimate Hero gave a big nod and pushed her sunglasses up. “I…I don’t think I’ve ever heard that term before?”

 “Oh, it’s real simple. It just means that she might want to go out with more than one person. So instead of one partner, she could have two or three.” Dragonous explained. The hypnotist was silent, staring intently at the red-head.

 “But…that makes no sense.” Sadao frowned.

 “Of course it makes sense. It’s just how people differ from you, Irunami-chan! Nothing bad about-“

 “I know that.” Sadao cut her off. “That’s not what I mean though…like, Mage-chan is from America, right? They use cars a lot there, so, like…what happens with they’re all taking a car ride to the shops or something?” Dragonous just stared at him with confusion. “Like, say Mage-chan had two partners, right? What if all three of them went to the shops. Does that mean someone just gets but in the back seats by themselves? That doesn’t seem fair? Do the rules of ‘shotgun’ apply to it or do they rotate who sits where?”

 “Th…that’s what you’re confused about…?” Dragonous had to giggle. “Geez, Irunami-chan, you’re mind comes up with the weirdest questions.”

 “Then I’ll have to ask Mage-chan when she’s finished with the lunch rush!” Sadao smiled. “People are interesting, you know? I love learning about people!”

 “Yeah, same. I get to meet tons of cool people in my travels, you’d probably get along well with a lot of them.”

 “Introduce me sometime then!” Sadao beamed.

 “Heh, it’s a deal.” Dragonous smiled back.

 --

 -7th Branch Days-

 “Hayashi-kun!” Junpei called out. “Did you get that paperwork that Gekkougahara-san sent to us…? It should have arrived by now.” Neku put a finger to his lips and thought for a few seconds.

 “I think Kamisaka left with Richard to get the paperwork. They said they had to take care of something anyways, they should be back soon.” Neku shrugged. “I guess you and I are just gonna have to play the waiting game until they decide to come back.”

 “I have a bad feeling about this though…” Junpei pinched the bridge of his nose. “Something about Richard-kun and Ka-chan being near each other for that amount of time makes me concerned for my mental wellbeing…”

 “Yo-chan~!” The familiar voice came from the doors of the 7th branch, Richard and Orochi walking back into the offices. “We’ve brought what you need.” The decipherer started to walk over to him. There was a worrying grin on his face as he got closer to Junpei. Oh boy.

 “What are you so happy ab…out…” Junpei’s voice slowed down as Orochi’s full figure came into view. Whilst he was still wearing his usual t-shirt and trench coat, the glaring difference in this outfit…were the denim short-shorts, completely exposing his legs. “…what the actual fuck are you wearing?”

 “Do you like them?” Orochi winked “Or maybe you need to see them from a better angle~” He leaned over Junpei, bringing his face to the same level as the blond. “They were Richard-kun’s idea. He said you were the type of guy that liked it when guys showed off more skin.”

 “Wh-what?!” Junpei’s face flushed. “Wh…wh-why would he think that?!”

 “Isn’t it obvious…?” Richard smiled. “You’re one of the easiest to read, silly!”

 “Well…?” Orochi leaned closer. “Is he right, or would you rather not answer that in front of everyone…?” Junpei’s face only went a deeper shade of red as Orochi inched closer.

 “I…” Junpei suddenly slapped Orochi and pushed him off. “Y-y-you seriously are an idiot! Idiot! Idiot!” Junpei cried out.

 “Ugh…we just had to get people like them, didn’t we…?” Neku sighed, resting his head on the desk. “Just my luck…”

 “Ah, now, now, dear Mr Hayashi. They aren’t bad children…I just wish to help Mr Yokozawa with his feelings, is all.” Richard glanced at the bickering pair. “Besides, having a little noise in this place isn’t a bad thing, is it…?”

 --

 -Protagonist Curse-

 “…eh…?” Ryuu blinked. “What are you…?”

 “Giving you my underwear, obviously.” Kobo frowned, acting as if this gesture was completely normal for everyone to do. “We’re really close so we gotta prove it to each other, right? Then you gotta take my underwear. It’s, like, the rules of video games.”

 “Wh-what kind of video games have you played where underwear is a reward for getting close to people?!” Ryuu cried out, still trying to wrap the fact that Kobo was trying to shove the blue and grey boxerbriefs into his possession.

 “A really good one, I should lend it to you sometime. Besides, if I’m following the rules of the game, then you fit it perfectly.” Kobo smirked. “You got the protagonist curse.”

 “P…protagonist curse…?” Ryuu tilted his head, letting out a yelp as Kobo pulled playfully on the ahoge protruding from the top of his head.

 “That thing right there is the sign of a protagonist in the series. And obviously they’re the ones collecting everyone’s underwear. So these are for you because you’re pretty much the protagonist of our class, if we go by the game’s rules.”

 “Th…that’s…insane…” Ryuu sighed. “Okanaya-kun…why don’t you and I ever just have a normal conversation for once…? Just once…?”

 “Ha! You know that ain’t happening anytime soon, Nagata!” The tour guide chuckled, shoving the underwear into the shorter male’s hands. “I’ll see you around!” He turned to leave.

 Ryuu just looked at the fabric in his grasp and sighed once again. “I guess I can’t really do anything about it…for now, I’m just gonna have to get these to my room before anyone se-“ Ryuu turned to leave, only to find Maemi, Toson, Yuuki, and Sadao behind him. “U…u-uh…th-this isn’t what it looks like…!”

 “Drat.” Toson scoffed. “Looks like Okanaya-kun beat us to it.”

 “Eh?”

 “We were going to give you ours first, but I suppose Okanaya-kun was just too fast for us. Still won’t stop us though, that I can promise.” Yuuki tipped his cap.

 “E-eh?!”

 “Oh, by the way, Nagata-kun, who are you planning on giving your underwear to?” Maemi asked.

 “EH?!!”

 --

 -Old memories-

 “So you guys all were at Hope’s Peak at the same time, right…?” Rogue asked Kyoji and Ethos ad the three, along with Daisuke, all sat at one of the tables in the lunch hall. “Anything embarrassing happen with Takai-kun whilst I was gone? Come on, you guys need to let me know about anything I missed!”

 “Ah, Kimyona-san, that’s-“

 “Aw, come on, Takai-kun, you know you can tell me anything! I won’t judge! Me, you, and Yuichiro-chan were besties back in school, remember?” The artist grinned. “Now spill it, you two.”

 “Well, this wasn’t something about Takai-kun specifically, but I do remember Oroya-kun having trouble with trying to reach some books in the library because he was so short in his first year of school. He got so flustered when Takai-kun helped him that he said ‘s-senpai’ with one of those really touched voices.” Kyoji recalled.

 “Th-that’s not true!” Ethos quickly objected. “I wasn’t flustered about it! I mean…sure, I was caught off guard that much is true…”

 “Though you were very conscious of your short stature before you hit your growth spurt. Even Ando-san was taller than you, if I remember right.” Daisuke added on.

 “When did this discussion turn to me, anyways…?” Ethos laughed a little. “But Rogue, what did you do when you left anyways…? Anything weird happen to you, other than the obvious powers…?”

 “Uh…” Rogue looked away for a second. “I…guess you could say some weird stuff happened. Like the lakeside incident…” When the three pairs of eyes looked at her curiously, she could only frown as she recalled. “When I was first trying to control my powers, I was practising by a lakebed…I was just kind of going over everything I could do, when suddenly my electricity activated and hit the water. I killed all of the fish in the waters…I didn’t mean to though! Though I suppose the fishermen didn’t mind.”

 “That was you?” Kyoji’s eyes widened. “I heard about that incident a few years ago, but to think that it was you…”

 “Yeah, I’m much better with my powers now. Which is great, by the way, because it can be hell if something goes haywire.”

 “It’s good you were able to return to us though, Kimyona-san…” Daisuke smiled softly. “Even with Okumura-kun there with me…our second year and third year just weren’t the same without your voice always leading us around.

 “Aw, Takai-kun, that’s so sweet…” Rogue’s expression slowly dropped. “I…just hope we can find Yuichiro-chan soon. It would be great if all three of us were together again…”

 “Then we’ll work together to make it happen, alright…?” Daisuke looked at his friend.

 “R-right! Let’s bring him here safely!”

 --

 -Common Ground-

 Rina and Emi sat across from each other, almost as if ready to discuss some kind of important business meeting. The two had met in Emi’s room, the lights had been dimmed, and the tension between the two was unbelievable thick.

 “…Teruteru…” Emi said.

 “….Peko-chan…” Rina nodded back to her. The two paused before letting out small giggles. “I’m so glad we do this, Chouko-san. I’m just happy we have something in common.”

 “M-me too…y-y-you’re definitely the n-nicest i-in our class…I c-c-can’t stand K-Kamisaka, honestly.” Emi chewed on her nail lightly.

 “I think he’s just a little…eccentric…” Rina scratched her head. “Though Yokozawa-kun is nice, don’t you think? And even if she’s a little strict, Watanabe-san is nice as well. She’s just a little more…intense than the others.”

 “I h-h-have trouble with int-t-tense people…W-Watanabe w-was a nightmare t-t-to live with i-in that mansion…” Emi frowned. “Th-though I a-agree about J-Junpei-san…”

 “So…do you have a plan yet for Hanamura-kun…? You must have thought of something to get him…” Rina leaned forward, awaiting her answer.

 “I-i-it’s still a w-w-work in progress…w-what about y-y-you with Peko-san…?” The music critic twisted her headphone as she asked.

 “Akane’s been helping me out a lot with trying to impress her. I’ve never liked anyone before, so this is all really new to me. I’m just nervous that I’m gonna mess things up and she’ll never want to talk to me again, I mean…she did forget me at one point.” Rina’s mood seemed to drop.

 “Th-that was b-because of the de-despairs though, not be-because of y-y-you.” Emi reminded her. “I th-think you’ll d-d-do fine, honestly. Y-you’ve got a g-good personality, and you’re c-c-c-cute.”

 “You think so…?” Rina smiled weakly, walking over to give Emi a light hug. “You’re the best, Chouko-san.” She stood up straight. “Alright…I won’t give up until Peko tells me her feelings for me! It’s all or nothing, you know?!”

 “S-s-same with m-me and Teruteru…I’ve g-got to st-step my game up, y-y’know. I w-w-want a real answer t-t-to wh-when I a-asked him out…” Emi’s eyes were full of determination. “W-we have crushes o-on o-our old uppercl-classmen. B-but we’re gonna win. We h-have to.”

 The two looked at each other and nodded confidently.