#new chapter new pov and new time setting whoo

[lyssala]

It was a nice room, so nice that she insisted it go to someone else more deserving. She didn't mind sleeping in a room with multiple people, with mothers and children. None of the survivors from the Hideaway had separate rooms while they were trying to find a new place to survive.

They would simply find a place big enough to house them all and do their best to get some sleep. It was never quiet nor comfortable, but Jill slept better there than she ever did in this room.

Of course, those situations also coincided with Clive sleeping only an arm's reach away.

Her fingers picked at some of the broken wood on the railing of the balcony. The ocean breeze was cool, but her face felt unbearably hot.

Jill knew why; she knew why since she was ten years old. It was realizing why she liked to watch Clive train, or why everything seemed so lonely when he wasn't with her, or why she slept so much better when the last thing she saw was him. A silly crush for a little girl who thought the handsome young Lord Rosfield hung the stars in the sky just for her.

-------------------------

A collection of one-shots to tell the stories between canon; the ones hinted at and alluded to but never quite giving the whole story. Of memories mentioned briefly while reminiscing, of quiet moments left unseen, of how a relationship can go from two kids with crushes to two adults in love.

Each chapter takes place at a different point in canon; all chapter notes contain the time frame upfront to help those who are still avoiding spoilers.

[if-music-be-the-food-of-love]

When I read this ...Sander saying this to Hanna, also feels like he is saying it to himself as well about Robbe...now that he's gonna be raising his baby alone...

And then there's Robbe, in the first chapter, within moments of setting his eyes on Amelia goes: “I want to move back in.” ...“...Now I know how I want to be involved. I want to be here. Every day. Living it with you. Being here for both of you. Relieving some of your worries and stress. Taking on some of the responsibilities.”,,,, already a dad.🤍

The selflessness and love that is so inherent to Robbe couldn't have peaked more, he is such a giver<333 and I can't stop thinking how Sander's heart must have been bursting with love in that moment. Robbe is so right for him :') he is even beyond what Sander could think of.

I love your Robbe so much ❤️•́ ‿ ,•̀

This could get long...you have been warned. 😆😍

The one thing that becomes abundantly clear in my fics (and on my tumblr) is that I LOVE Robbe. He is by far my favorite character in all of Skam, and there's a reason for that. I am drawn to a very specific type of person. My family jokingly calls it "the boy scout," but essentially I find kindness and goodness attractive. There's a reason Captain America is my favorite Avenger and that I cried when Sam "I'm the most amazingly, wholesome, good person on the planet" Wilson became the new Cap. (Seriously, ugly crying, I love Sam Wilson.) I adore Peeta. He was my favorite character from day one, and when that goodness was destroyed in Mockingjay, I cried angry tears. She ruined the most loyal, honest character ever. Alec in The Shadowhunter Chronicles--his defining characteristic is that he's a protector, fiercely loyal. He didn't kill a demon until he was 19 bc he was out there defending Jace and Isabelle instead. Sure, he can be a sassy ass, but goodness literally pours out of him. Any time Magnus describes him, it's like he can't comprehend how honest and wholesome he is. It's literally what attracts him at first--shock at this enigma of a Shadowhunter. I could go on, but I'm sure you get the point.

Back to Robbe, so canon Robbe is like this for me. He never spoke ill about his mother or MI. All he did was love and support her. He never pretended to like Jana, and he immediately felt guilty for messing things up for Jens. He suffered a shit ton more homophobia during season 1 and 3 than the other Isaks, which is why his internalized homophobia was so deeply rooted (and why he did make a few bad choices - faking it with Noor, the slur). He actually liked Noor--as a friend, and that's why he tried so hard to make it work, and why they stayed friends afterward. And here's the big one for me, he BROKE UP with her before pursuing Sander. Sure, the pool kiss happened first, but it wasn't planned. He did not purposefully cheat. He manned up and didn't ghost her. For me, that was HUGE. And then we get to Sander. He biked around in the cold for over an hour, only to be pushed away. He broke up with Sander, not bc he was afraid of his MI, but bc he was told it was better for him, that he needed to stay away. Admittedly, his fear, shock, and misinformation led to illogical thinking, resulting in breaking up with Sander over text, and who would have thought Moyo would be the one to clear that up (whoo!). But the second he realized he was wrong, that he'd made a mistake based on incorrect info, he fixed it. He reached out. He called. He texted. He went to visit him. He didn't wait for Sander to need him, to reach out to him. He was actively pursuing him, all while thinking it was over bc he screwed up. All of this is what makes Robbe so special to me. He isn't perfect, but he always acts with a kind heart. None of this has been negated or challenged in later seasons. His fierce, loyal devotion to Sander is all over insta, and he literally glows with pride.

Now to my Robbe in "I Want it All," he's not perfect by any means, not like the Robbe in "Color of Love." I think that one was a little too one-dimensional, mainly because it was all seen through Sander's rose colored glasses. "I Want it All" was actually difficult at first because I usually write from Sander's POV, and it started with Robbe. I find it much easier to think like Sander and just gush about him. Having to be in Robbe's head made things more challenging, but what I've found as the story has progressed, is that Robbe's amazingness is still obvious, BUT we can see that he's flawed. He's (unintentionally) been awful to Sander. Many times. He allowed the Broerrrs to affect their relationship; he was a total ass after the kiss; and he completely ignored his own physical and emotional reactions to Sander, immediately followed by flaunting a completely inappropriate and awful boyfriend in his face, however unconsciously. I'm personally convinced, and since it's my story, I can state it as fact, I guess, that Robbe's jealousy chose Carlos to purposefully punish Sander for proposing to Hanna. It was a rebound, just not in the traditional sense. Granted, he's completely unaware of all this.

Somehow he's still the most caring, supportive, loving friend. One of my personal favorite moments is when he's taking care of Sander during the pregnancy. That's such a selfless, loving thing to do, and he's doing it by choice, not because anyone asked. He recognized that Sander was struggling to balance everything, and he stepped in. To me, that's love. It's unconditional, and that's what drives Robbe. He loves Sander unconditionally, and it's completely unrelated to romance. Even before he realized he was in love with him, he always gave Sander what he needed--a partner to raise his daughter with, companionship, laughter, help around the house, little presents that represent how important Sander is to him, etc. Apart from recognizing the meaning of his and Sander's feelings, he's completely in tune with him and always has been. We're not there yet, but imagine how heartbroken and utterly awful Robbe will feel when he realizes just how long Sander has been waiting for him. We got a glimpse of it in ch. 5, but our poor boy is going to judge himself rather harshly.

The dynamic is so different between them because Robbe is oblivious to his feelings, and Sander is not. What Robbe does and how he acts is completely out of love, no strings attached. He has no ulterior motive. That's what makes him so kind and sweet. Sander's actions, at least in this last part, are always tainted by his unrequited love for Robbe. He loves him. Always, but his disappointment and frustration get in the way. His choices and actions take that unrequited love into consideration, and because of where they are in their lives and the miscommunication, he actually acts against his own interests and feelings to try and protect himself. It's a very interesting distinction when you think that the one who is romantically in love with the other is the one in a serious relationship with someone else while the oblivious one hasn't really dated and only got a boyfriend after the proposal. Ouch. I'm not attacking Sander here at all because I love him too, and it's my fault he did all this; but my clear, obvious preference and love for Robbe and his absolute kindness and goodness, really shines through here.

Anyway, this really was long, but I do love Robbe. He is my favorite, and chances are any future fics will continue to make that obvious.

[tifaria]

Good Omen fan fic recommendations?

This has been unanswered in my notes for far too long! 

Whoo boy, where do I start?? Let me just pull up my AO3 bookmarks… okay. This is gonna be a long post because I have a Lot of Thoughts about fic in this fandom. I’ll separate by types of fic. 

Series/stories with a plot: 

 Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm

As soon as Aubrey Thyme, psychotherapist, had opened her office door and seen her new client, Anthony J. Crowley, sitting in her waiting area, she was observing and assessing him. At first glance, she paid attention to the following:

–His clothing was expensive and stylish;–He wore very strange but noticeable cologne;–His relationship to the seat he occupied could only, very loosely, be described as “sitting;”–He looked angry;–He was wearing sunglasses.

What Aubrey Thyme, a professional, thought, upon first seeing her new client was: you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?

Okay, so some warnings: discussion of suicide, PTSD, implied alcohol abuse and implied child abuse. That said…. this is an excellent fic and I was thinking about it for days after it ended. It’s about Crowley dealing with trauma from the bookshop fire, and it has an outsider POV that I ended up caring deeply about, and the ending had me in (happy) tears. Just. It’s a miracle that this fic exists. 

A Curious Case of Miracles on Marlborough Street by @nihilnovisubsole

After stopping the apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale finally take the next step in their six-thousand-year friendship. But when a spate of miracles sweeps across Soho and Mayfair, they realize their amorous escapades may have an unintended side effect. As they scramble to restore balance and an archangel arrives to investigate, Heaven and Hell’s messengers learn that you can never have too much of a good thing.

At the very least, you need to go look at the art on this fic, because it is magnificent. But you should really read the story, because it’s absurd and weird but in a way that makes it feel like it could plausibly take place in the TV-verse. Implied sexual content, nothing explicit. Plenty of humor. It’s crackfic that’s taken seriously, but it works and I love it.

The Sandford Flower Show by Musimm

Crowley had waited six thousand years, kept it all in check. But this was the slipperiest slope he’d ever set foot on and as soon as he’d indulged in a few discretionary acts of kindness he was falling face first into pining, tumbling into flirting, about to dislocate his knees on the sharp rocks of intimacy.

Was this really it? What he had waited six thousand years for? A stupid flower show? Aziraphale wasn’t pulling away from him. Maybe… maybe this time he wouldn’t? Maybe they’d hold hands again. Maybe tonight with a bottle of merlot in them he’d finally work up the courage and just kiss him and he wouldn’t pull away.

The very moment he’d thought it he spotted the problem at the flower show.

Chapter 7 is explicit, so if that’s not your jam, skip to the next chapter after they go to bed. I really enjoyed this one! There’s angst, pining, miscommunication, idiots acting like idiots, but with a happy ending. The plot is interesting and the original characters were engaging and felt like they’d fit right into the TV-verse. I re-read this immediately after finishing it, that’s how much I liked it.

I Will Get Up Now and Go About the City by @drawlight

This is the story of six-thousand years and a borrowed jacket. (A tale told in vignettes.)

Look, if you haven’t gone and read every single thing that @drawlight has written by now, I don’t know what to tell you. This is my favorite fic of his. It is, quite simply, poetry. I’m due for a re-read, in fact.

Fluff/Sweetness:

 Divine Intervention (AKA God Ships It) by @theladyzephyr

There’s a battle strategy devised by humans many millennia ago that’s designed to overcome an adversary who is particularly well entrenched. Some walls are too tall and thick for a frontal assault, and must instead be bested through sheer dogged stubbornness.

Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t know it, but they were about to be put under siege.

Fed up with an angel and a demon who are still avoiding any talk of Feelings, God starts to interfere. When it comes to the ineffable plan, sometimes things need a bit of a push.

Listen. This is my favorite fluffy Good Omens fic ever. It’s silly, it’s romantic, it’s completely heartfelt, and it’s joyous and happy. I grinned so hard while reading it, and re-reading it, and re-reading it again. I go to this fic when I’ve had a bad day. I go to this fic when I’ve had a good day. It’s wonderful and sweet and it fills my heart with warmth.

Sunny Picnic with the Southern Pansy by @almaasi

As the one-year mark of the Unpocalypse approaches, Aziraphale pointedly mentions to Crowley that he’d like to spend the anniversary doing “something lovely” with “somebody special”. Thus, Crowley secretly plans a surprise picnic in Tadfield with Anathema and the Them. Of course, this comes served with a plateful of misunderstandings, a side of moping, and a seasoning of mischief… eventually followed by a deliciously pleasant afternoon.

I love when authors can work in the ensemble cast in a way that works. This fic is fluffy, warm, and fuzzy. I loved every time The Them were in a scene because the author wrote them so well. 

Saturday (Wouldn’t It Be Nice) by Sir_Bedevere

It’s a Saturday in the little cottage on the South Downs, where a demon and an angel are spending their retirement, and there’s nothing - nothing - that they can’t face together.

It’s a Saturday, and this is how Saturdays tend to go.

This is a gentle and soft fic that soothes my soul when I read it. There’s plenty of cuddling, sweetness, and fluff. This fic is like a comforting, warm blanket when you’ve had a hard day.

Love Like Fools by @animeangelriku

One minute, Aziraphale is cataloguing some of his first editions, and the next one, he’s leaning against the bookshelf with one hand because he feels like the breath he doesn’t necessarily need (but is nonetheless used to taking) has just been knocked out of him.

He does not need to hold back his feelings for Crowley anymore. He does not need to hide his feelings for Crowley anymore. They’re on their own side now.

Soft romance with hand-holding and plenty of kissing? Sign me up. I live for Aziraphale showering Crowley with affection, and Crowley being overwhelmed by it.

An Honest Surrender by @kedreeva

“For six thousand years,” Crowley said, voice cracking, “I have wanted something I couldn’t have, because I asked the wrong questions. But I’m asking the right one now. The only one that matters.”

In which Aziraphale follows Crowley home after the nonpocalypse.

I never get tired of what-happened-at-Crowley’s-flat-that-night fics. Never. Give me all of them. This one depicts the boys as asexual and includes some intense soul-bonding that I find really lovely and that I think is achingly beautiful.

It’s Getting Hard, This Holding Back by ZehWulf

6,000-odd years is a long time to evolve a romantic relationship, but as a near-immortal being, Crowley had patience. True, they had lost momentum right around reaching the Speaking Looks and Meaningful Gestures stage, but at the time Crowley had been more or less content to let things idle.

Now, he was determined to shift things back into gear, and that gear was Explicitly Romantic Physical Expressions of Affection.

Crowley comes up with a plot for easing into physical affection with Aziraphale, and it goes about like you’d expect. Cute, sweet, and fluffy asexual relationship. 

Smut/Explicit:

Lie Back And Think Of Dinner by jessthereckless

“Crowley, this is a disaster. This is everything I ever wanted. We’re in love. And there’s a picnic. And we don’t seem to be able to get…amorous without causing earthquakes.”

Aziraphale attempts subterfuge. Crowley sees right through him.

This fic is so cute, with just a bit of smut. I don’t always enjoy smut, because sometimes I feel it strays too much from their characterization, but this fic gets it right. It’s funny and charming and the dialogue is spot on. When you’re finished, read the sequel, which has more explicit smut but still manages to be believable for me while also being very sweet. 

The First Week of the Rest of their Lives by @deputychairman

“Port gives the worst hangovers in the world, did you know that?” Crowley slurred when the bottle was all gone. “Don’t know who got credit for that one. Nice drink, lovely drink, shame it makes you want to die in the morning.”

“Such a shame,” Aziraphale agreed sadly, watching Crowley stretch out on his sofa. He did like port. He liked Crowley stretched out on his sofa, too.

After a week of lunch dates, Aziraphale is finally ready to face his feelings. This is sexy and just smutty enough and the banter between them in the bedroom is cute but also hot.

Overboard by Laura Shapiro

Asking Crowley to move here with him is, Aziraphale thinks, the bravest thing he has ever done.

Aziraphale tries and fails to deal with his anxiety, and eventually the pining and angst lead to an understanding. I enjoyed the depiction of Aziraphale’s anxiety over he and Crowley’s relationship, and the sex is very well done and you can sense the love in it. 

Alternate Universe (AU):

Here’s the thing about AUs: I don’t usually enjoy them. I find that often the characters don’t resemble the ones I know at all, and it prevents me from getting interested in the story. However, I have come across some that I’ve loved, and while the characterizations aren’t necessary recognizable as Aziraphale and Crowley, the stories are compelling and well-written. I tend to think of it as the actors from the TV series playing other parts, and it works for me. 

Acts of Service by seekwill

After receiving direct instruction from God, village reverend Aziraphale leaves his countryside congregation to serve the underserved and in-need at an urban church in London, a transition made all the more complicated by the mysterious and handsome Crowley, who always seems to appear when Aziraphale least expects him.

I was thinking about this fic for a while after I finished it. Is it a bit soap operatic? Yes. Is it also compelling and romantic and sexy? Hell yes. Just go read it and decide for yourself. The only reason I didn’t finish the entire fic in one evening is because I read until 1am and then had to wake up four hours later. Otherwise I’d have binged it all in one go.

Only Love (Can Bring the Rain) by soft_october

There were all these little hopes and musings Crowley buried so deep in his heart it ached to bring them out into the light to catalogue their faults and flaws, and each time Aziraphale sought him out, or asked his opinion on some weighty manner that was hanging on him, or even just smiled, those little wishings grew bigger and bigger, pressing in on him until he felt as if he was being crushed.

“Princes do not fall in love with gardener boys,” he told himself one night, staring into the shard of looking glass he kept on a shelf, hoping it would help, hoping that hearing it out loud would make him believe it, would help him put all these ridiculous notions behind him.

It didn’t work.

Crowley and Aziraphale, the gardener’s boy and the prince, meet as children and develop an unlikely friendship.

By the time they’re twenty, everything has changed.

Crowley is a gardener, Aziraphale is a prince, and this reads like a gentle fairy tale. I adore everything about it.

With All Your Delights by @weatheredlaw 

Crowley laughed. “I thought you’d have realized by now. I am no ordinary king.”

“No,” Aziraphale said. “You certainly are not.”

or: aziraphale is sent as a gift to the southern king to smooth over trade negotiations. they both find themselves in over their heads.

Good Lord, this fic. This fic is so sexy, so romantic, so immersive. The world-building is vague, but somehow that worked for me because I was able to imagine and fill in the gaps as I pleased. Do they 100% resemble any Crowley and Aziraphale that we know? No. But is it a well-written romance that checks off a lot of boxes I enjoy? Yes. There’s angst, but with a happy ending. I think I’ve read this one 3 or 4 times now, which is unheard of for me with an AU.

Slow Show by @mia-ugly

Listen. This. This fic. It’s done something to me. I live for updates on this fic. 

Crowley and Aziraphale are co-stars on a Game of Thrones-esque TV show. There’s pining, angst, explicit sex, mentions of past addiction, and somehow, it all comes together in a beautiful story that has me rushing to me computer on Mondays to check and see if it’s been updated. It has wrecked me. The last chapter was a wham and I am desperate for more. I have the utmost admiration for the author because it’s a beautiful, sexy, romantic story and I have never been so eager to read an AU before. 

[kbstories]

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Provisional License Exam & Aftermath, The Boys Are Fighting And Everything Hurts

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Additional content warning for bad communication, emotional breakdowns and general anxiousness. Chapter 9.

***

“Oi. Kiri.”

Another heap of sugar goes into Kirishima’s mug. He stirs a bit, then licks caramel-sweet goodness off the spoon. Perfect. With a content hum, he leans further into the embrace of his favorite armchair.

“Mmyeah?”

Across from him, Bakugou sips his own coffee. Looking all kinds of cozy from his perch by the window, shoes off, U.A.’s uniform narrowed down to just the shirt and pants. Only Iida and Momo have made it down to the common room yet, yawning their way through breakfast with last-minute notes spread out over the kitchen counter.

Their quiet conversation is mere background noise for them. It’s a familiar enough routine that neither duo exchanged more than acknowledging nods before settling into their preferred corners.

Bakugou toes the wood of the windowsill with socked feet, hands calm around his mug. His gaze idles on a group of sparrows outside.

“By this time tomorrow, we’ll be heroes.” Soft-spoken, the words nonetheless sound as solid as ever.

“Provisional ones”, Kirishima reminds him, a mix of excitement and nerves making his leg bounce, the carpet underneath ruffling with the motion. There’s still an exam to pass between then and now. “But still. Licensed and everything.”

“Mh”, Bakugou breathes into his coffee. He sends Kirishima a wry look over its rim. “Nervous?”

Thinking on it for a moment, Kirishima smiles. “Nah, not really. We worked our asses off for it. Like, we totally got this.”

Bakugou’s smirk comes swift and it stays: a dare for the world to do its worst, a promise to come out on top despite it all. Kirishima offers him his fist and Bakugou meets him in the middle, used to the gesture by now. Sparks crackle over rock-hewn skin.

“Damn right we do.”

*

The names flicker on the screen and Kirishima searches.

K, K, Ki, Kiri– There! Kirishima Eijirou.

“Hell yes”, he cheers, the doubts clinging to his heart dropping all the way to his feet. The second he’s got his phone back, he’ll scream-yell a voice message to his moms – finally, finally, Red Riot will exist out there. In reality, not just his wildest dreams.

Automatically, Kirishima jumps to the beginning of the list.

B, Ba, Baku–

Next to him, Bakugou sucks in a breath. That, more than anything, brings his head crashing from the clouds and straight to the ground, to the spot on that list where Bakugou’s name should be but isn’t. Kirishima frowns, his eyes scanning the row starting with B one more time.

“Dude, what…?” No Bakugou Katsuki. “No way.”

One glimpse, that’s all he gets. One glance at Bakugou’s face and that expression Kirishima recognizes from the longest night of his life, that déjà vu of devastation and loss a sucker punch nailing Kirishima right in the gut–

Before he can reach out, it’s gone. Bakugou grits his teeth and juts his chin up, and any trace of it is replaced by anger. Cold, lethal, seeping into squared shoulders and brows drawn deep enough to cast his gaze in shadows.

“Katsu–”

A harsh tch interrupts him, followed by a softer “Congrats, Riot” mumbled in Kirishima’s direction. Bakugou won’t meet his eyes, though, and when Kirishima’s fingers brush Bakugou’s, he crosses his arms instead.

“Thanks”, Kirishima mumbles back, all thoughts of celebrating dead and gone. He doesn’t try to reach out again.

*

1-A spills into the common room as one, smiles and laughter all around. The air previously heavy with anticipation now carries only relief, that clean petrichor taste that follows a downpour at the height of summer.

Despite the stone weight of worry in his stomach, Kirishima laughs along with them. He leans into the lanky arm Sero drapes across his shoulders and returns the fist bump Jirou offers him before Kaminari tackle-hugs the three of them towards the couches.

“Smash tournament! Now!”

“It is our last night off before the new term”, Jirou supplies with a shrug. A thoughtful look is cast towards Bakugou, turning sly as it meets Kaminari’s. “Though, may I propose: Rock Band?”

“Ohhh”, coos Sero, joined by an enthusiastic nod by Kaminari. “Whoo yeah! U.A.’s best fake guitarist, reporting for duty!”

Kirishima loves his friends, he really does. If there’s one thing Bakugou has consistently enjoyed during their hangouts, it’s violently crushing them via the e-drum set he brought from home. That thing shows some serious signs of wear, too, the silicone cover warped or even torn in places.

(The high score list features his name like five times before their resident runner-up – Shouji, surprisingly – even makes an appearance, additional limb advantage and all.)

“I’m in. Wanna duo, Jack?” Jirou gives Kirishima a thumbs-up from where she’s already setting up the microphones. He turns around. “Nitro, you–?”

Bakugou isn’t next to him anymore. Before Kirishima can ask, he hears Mina call out, “Blasty, where are you going?”, and follows the question to Bakugou’s turned back clearly headed for the elevators.

“Room”, Bakugou answers, clipped, rough. The glare he throws over his shoulder might as well be lines of caution tape fluttering in the wind, storm sirens howling in the distance. Keep out. “Have fun playing your shitty game.”

Kirishima sees the hurricane about to hit a second before Mina makes a grab for Bakugou’s wrist, determination shining in black-rimmed eyes. “It’s Rock Band”, she tells him, meeting the snarl on Bakugou’s face with stubborn compassion. “You love Rock Band.”

“What do you know, hah?” Bakugou snaps, tugging away. “Fucking– Get off me!”

Mina’s grip tightens, Bakugou’s hand is raised – familiar, so familiar, that glint of rage in blood-red pupils – and Kirishima is on his feet, pulling Mina behind himself to shield her from an explosion that never comes.

It’s a close call, though. Kirishima feels the heat coming off Bakugou’s palm, the wince he tries to hide when he clenches it to a fist instead.

“This isn’t your fight, Shark Teeth. Back off.”

“Bakugou.”

Firm, resolute. Kirishima’s voice is like volcanic glass: smooth on the surface, jagged around the edges. There’s a warning in there, too, his jaw clenched just as tightly as Bakugou’s. “Not cool, man. Mina’s just trying to help.”

Bakugou huffs at the mere notion of that. “Well, Mina can fuck right off. I don’t need shit from any of you.”

The truth is: Bakugou is different with Kirishima, he’s always been. Even now Kirishima can see him shift his weight, change gears in his mind, the door so firmly shut for others left ajar for him.

Bakugou only listens because it’s Kirishima speaking and he hates it, sometimes. Like his word counts above everyone else’s when it doesn’t, it shouldn’t.

“Look, I get why you’re pissed off but it’s not our fault, either. Alright? There’s no point in acting like this, dude.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrow, that sliver of a chance snuffed out of existence. A vicious sneer takes its place. “Acting like what? Like myself? Give me a break.”

“Guys”, Mina cuts in, sounding meek, uncomfortable. Bakugou doesn’t get to do that, not when he’s proven he’s better than that, time and time again – not when he’s careful with his quirk, when he’s stopped hiding that genuine smile that’s getting less and less rare, when he helps and soothes and pretends not to care and cares so fucking much.

Around them most of the class shuffles along, hovering on the sidelines. Kirishima can feel the looks, the hushed whispers ready to burst into existence, the fidgety sort of concern radiating from Midoriya in waves.

He ignores them all, looking Bakugou dead in the eye when he says: “No, Katsuki, like an asshole. It’s not like you at all.”

Behind him, Mina whispers, “Stop, Kiri, it’s okay.” From the couches come hisses of surprise, a murmured “Woah, dude” that sounds like Kaminari. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is that it hurts. It hurts to see Bakugou flinching like he’s been physically struck. To see emotion spill through the cracks in his armor, cracks Kirishima put there. But Bakugou listens when it’s him, and if there’s one thing he needs to hear, it’s this.

“Like, I get it. I know how it feels, you of all people know that. And extra lessons suck ass, believe me.” Kirishima takes a deep breath, letting go of his anger on the exhale until there’s only resolve, that strength he’s fostered and made his own with Bakugou at his side.

“But lashing out at people won’t fix anything. The stuff holding you back – it’s all you, man, that’s what you gotta work on. You’re the manliest person I know, so you’ll definitely get there, and then you’ll keep going until you’re Number One. There’s not a single doubt in my mind that’s how it’s gonna go. But it’s up to you to make sure it does.”

Bakugou is staring at him, pale-faced and still. He opens his mouth. “You done?”, he asks, his voice ground into something raw, something tired.

“Yeah”, Kirishima tells him, gentle again. “Yeah, I think I am.”

A nod. Bakugou glances past him, for a moment, at the ball of tension behind Kirishima that is Mina. Another nod, more hesitant.

“Blasty, I–”

Without another word, Bakugou leaves, shouldering past Midoriya on his way out. Kirishima watches him go and wonders if doing the right thing always feels so much like regret.

*

I fucked up.

Bundled up in his covers, Kirishima sits on his bed and stares at the wall. The cheerful colors and big exclamation points on his posters are little more than a blur, made obscure by the dark of night settling in around him.

The light switch is just across the room yet impossibly far away. Kirishima’s phone buzzes; the screen comes alive with a notification. It goes ignored.

I fucked up.

Kirishima’s gaze falls to the license in his hands, bland-looking next to the busy camo pattern of his favorite blanket. Red Riot, it says in bold letters under his name, date of birth and affiliation to U.A. – issued today, with the picture they took before they changed into their hero costumes. Himself, grinning with too much teeth, his hair freshly dyed and spiked to the heavens, his uniform done up meticulously.

It feels like a year ago that Bakugou rolled his eyes and fixed his collar, muttering something about ‘looking okay for once’. In turn, Kirishima had nudged and prodded him until he put on his tie, which lasted not one second beyond the flash of the camera.

But–

You done?

The card is small, unassuming, really. Kirishima blinks. One tear, then two pearl over flawless plastic. Three, four, head bowed as they drip, drip, drip down the tip of his nose.

Today wasn’t supposed to go like this. They were supposed to get their licenses, take the night off, sing and laugh and headbang to their audience of pixelated metalheads and forget the world for a while.

It was supposed to be about them, about the dream they shared over coffee this morning. About the future they’re reaching for, together.

Kirishima wants to toss the license to places unknown, wants to tell himself that it means nothing but it does. He waited for this moment longer than he cares to trace back, a long time, definitely. All that hard work, the sweat and blood he shed for it – perhaps it’s only right he adds tears to the mix.

Gods, I fucked up so bad.

He sniffs wetly, sets the card aside. There’s a spot for it in his wallet, he made sure of that as they stepped off the bus. Still, he needs to keep it in sight, like object permanence stops being a thing where one’s hero status is concerned.

Again, buzz buzz, his phone rattles quietly against wood. With a shuddering breath, Kirishima reaches for it, reads Simply Mina and 🦊 Eevee Squad 🦊 and swipes right until his home screen is just Riot’s canine smile again. All it does is remind him of an afternoon spent out in the yard, of a snoring dog and gentle touches to soft fur.

Two taps, and he’s back where he started: Staring at fond, red eyes in the corner and the unanswered messages underneath. Kirishima’s lips start to tremble.

Best Bakubro 💣💥

hey (sent 18:12)

can we talk? (sent 18:12)

i’m sorry (sent 18:30)

i’m so fucking sorry baku idk what i was thinking (sent 18:31)

just. please (sent 18:35)

idk what to do (sent 18:35)

katsuki? (sent 19:01)

The last three are still unread. Kirishima had just calmed himself down from the panicked jolt of blue ticks and grey ticks and Bakugou’s gone when a door had slammed shut hard enough to rattle Kirishima’s desk.

Kirishima wanted to go out there. He wanted to catch up to Bakugou and explain himself and make things right; instead he’d stayed right where he was and listened to his distinct stomp growing more and more faint like the coward he is.

There’s been nothing but silence ever since.

“Stop”, Kirishima whispers, a strangled, pathetic noise amidst the tears sliding down his cheeks. “Just s-stop. Fucking stop.” Tilting his head back, he knocks it against the wall, hoping against all hope that he’ll stop crying, that this shivering, miserable thing in his chest will relent and let him breathe for a bit.

Instead, he clenches his eyes shut and lets out a choked sob. It’s followed by another, another, until Kirishima presses his face into the blanket and gives in.

Hands fisting in loose hair, he curls in on himself, head tucked against his knees and desperately gasping for air. The walls are thick but not that thick – Shouji can probably hear him, if he’s even in, and Kirishima silently begs him to stay away. To be allowed to break in private like he’s done a thousand times before, after every moment he spent frozen in place, every time he didn’t act fast enough or act at all.

Were you scared?

He hadn’t been. For once in his life, Kirishima hadn’t been afraid – he’d been angry, furious even, hopeful and disappointed and worried and he’d fucked up because of it. That moment Bakugou shut up and just… took whatever Kirishima had to say is burned into his brain, aching and tender to the touch. Kirishima can’t stop putting his finger on it, though, like revisiting it will make it sting less, somehow.

It doesn’t.

Time is a fickle concept. Kirishima is aware it passes, he’s aware his blanket is soaked, that his back hurts and his heart hurts and his head, too. He’s back to blankly looking at his wall and seeing nothing, only interrupted by an occasional sniffle, when–

The snap of a lock turning, a door opening and closing, much quieter than before.

A glance to his clock tells him it’s an hour to midnight and way past curfew. The worry he felt earlier rekindles, glows bright enough to overshadow any other emotion swirling within him. It’s not like Bakugou to be up this late. It’s not like him to break rules like this.

It’s not like you at all.

Roughly, Kirishima rubs his arm over his face. Enough crying. Enough hiding away. Bakugou deserves better than public callouts and texts sent in a panic. Kirishima promised himself he’d be better – it’s worth next to nothing if he can’t keep it.

That fact doesn’t prevent his heart from beating half-way up his throat by the time he slips out his door and stands in front of Bakugou’s. His hand shakes as it’s raised to knock; Kirishima wills it to steady and raps his knuckles against wood, mindful of the late hour.

“Bakugou?”

Nothing.

“Listen, I…” Kirishima breathes through the squirming of guilt in his gut. “I messed up, man. I know you’re in there and if you’d rather not see me, that’s fine. But I know I hurt you a-and I want to apologize if… if you’ll let me.”

Wringing his hands, he blinks heavily and wills himself not to tear up again. Bakugou has every right to shut him out; it’s up to Kirishima to do what he should’ve done in the first place and respect his wishes.

It’s a reality he doesn’t have to face, however – the knob turns and the door cracks open the slightest bit. When it doesn’t move beyond that, Kirishima pushes for it to open further, sticking his head through the gap.

“Nitro?”

Silhouetted by his bedside lamp, Bakugou is tossing up his covers to properly burrow inside them. “Get your ass in here already”, he says over his shoulder, a bite to his tone Kirishima recognizes from their early days. “And close the door. It’s fucking late.”

He practically jumps to the task. “Okay, yeah, sorry!” Once the door clicks shut, Kirishima shuffles his feet, wanting to get closer but unsure if he’s allowed. Carefully, he makes his way over and stops, half a step in the circle of light cast around Bakugou’s bed.

“So. Um…” His hand brushes red strands behind his ear. His palms are sweaty. “I–”

“Did you mean it?”

Bakugou doesn’t even sound angry; Kirishima would definitely deserve it if he was. He’s unsure if that no-bullshit edge is any better, though, swallowing heavily. “Yeah. Well, kinda. The– the words were right but…” He clenches his hands to fists, brings his gaze up to look at him.

Kirishima’s eyes widen. The rest of that sentence flees from his mind entirely.

“What…?”

Scrapes, bruises, gauze stuck to both cheeks, bandages wrapped around both arms. Back to the wall, legs loosely crossed in front of him, Bakugou looks like he went a round or five with a superpowered bobcat, dried blood clinging to some of the many scratches on his skin.

Yet his eyes are focused, pinning Kirishima with the same precision with which he handles everything in life. “But?”

“Bakugou! What happened?!”

“Picked a fight.” A sharp sniff. Bakugou shrugs like he couldn’t care less. “‘s none of your business. Answer my question.”

Ouch. Kirishima doesn’t linger on that, he can’t, too busy mentally cataloguing the damage and trying not to drag Bakugou to the infirmary ASAP. Which–

“We gotta– Recovery Girl. She’ll heal you right up.”

Bakugou huffs a laugh, no humor in it whatsoever. “Already went. It’s done. Answer the fucking question, Kirishima.”

It’s incredibly hard to unstick his mind from whatever the hell happened there. Like a wrestling match with his own thoughts, struggling to get them on the wrong set of tracks despite his brain frantically gesturing towards Bakugou.

Kirishima rubs his palms over his face, pats his cheeks none-too-gently for good measure. Focus.

“Right. Yes, I meant what I said. It’s– Mina isn’t me, Baku. She can’t take your anger like I can, okay? They… they were just trying to cheer you up and you were out of line. But–”

Bakugou’s gaze isn’t letting him go, intense like they’re mid-battle and he’s trying to figure out Kirishima’s next move. Guard all the way up. Kirishima drops his hands, wide open.

“Your day was already crappy enough without me putting you on the spot like that. You said you wanted to go and I forced you to stay and deal with even more stuff because I was angry and worried and… Yeah. I went about it all wrong and I’m sorry.”

Those damn tears are lurking at the corners of his eyes, itching and burning but Kirishima fights them off. He nods to the ground.

“I really let you down. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Kirishima waits. For a moment that feels eternal, he stands there with his head bowed and his fingers clinging to the edge of his shirt. He fully expects to be met with silence until he gets the memo and leaves.

Then Bakugou sighs.

“You look like hell, y’know that? Your eyes are all puffy and shit.”

Wincing, Kirishima nods again. “I know.” He peeks up through the gaps in his hair.

Bakugou huffs, exasperated and so much more like himself. “Don’t give me that. I’m still pissed at you.”

There. A chance. All it takes is a leap of faith. “But?”, Kirishima asks quietly.

“But nothing, fucker. I’m pissed, full stop.” A glower that would make a quirked-up Aizawa proud. Bakugou crosses his arms; Kirishima ducks his head. “You’re lucky you’re you or I’d have kicked your ass straight to whichever place stupid potato dogs like you go to when they die.”

Don’t laugh. Kirishima bites his lip. Half a second later, a pillow smacks his shoulder with impressive force.

“Shut up. I got it, okay? I know I’m”, a pause filled with teeth grinding audibly, “difficult, I guess. And an asshole. I know all that.”

The urge to laugh is replaced by a shot of vertigo, like Kirishima missed a step down a flight of stairs. Their eyes meet, and Bakugou glares.

“It’s what you said. Don’t you dare take it back now.”

“But that’s not what I mea–”

“Tough shit, bitch, ‘cause that’s what I got from it. It’s fine, okay? If someone’s gonna call me out on my bullshit it’s gotta be you. It’s just–”

Bakugou drops his hands in his lap, staring at the bandages running up to his elbows. There are blisters on his right palm, visible even in the half-dark.

“Not in front of everyone?”, Kirishima offers in a small voice.

A tense breath. “Yeah. Makes me wanna blow up and lose my shit for real.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You already said that. I told you it’s fucking fine.”

“But–”

“Eijirou.”

Kirishima’s heart squeezes. Bakugou looks so exhausted and it’s all his fault. Still, he mumbles, “Okay”, and he wordlessly swears on everything he holds dear that he’ll listen, next time. That he’ll trust Bakugou to do the right thing and stay in control.

“Okay.” Bakugou’s eyes are on him again, less heavy now. “I don’t wanna talk about the fight, either.”

Kirishima’s hands clench, not tight enough to rip into the fabric but close enough. “At all or…?”

“Not sure yet. Definitely not tonight.”

“Okay”, Kirishima repeats. It’s not forever. He can handle anything if it’s not forever. “Um. Are we cool? I get it if… not. I can leave, too. Whatever you want.”

Unexpectedly, Bakugou groans, almost… amused? “Screw you. I should be milking the fuck outta this but… Yeah, we’re cool.”

Oh. Kirishima can’t help the way his resolve wobbles with how relieved he is, keeping his shaky inhale as stealthy as possible. He fucked up and his best friend doesn’t hate him. They’re gonna be okay.

“Kiri…”

There’s a strange expression on Bakugou’s face, pinched and frustrated-looking. His eyes are soft, though. Concerned. “Stop crying, you big baby. C’mere. And bring my pillow, I actually need it.”

Kirishima keeps it casual. He grabs the pillow and pads over instead of running. He tosses it in Bakugou's lap, earning a grumbled, “Thanks.”

Almost casual. There’s an attempt, at least, chucked right out the window the second Bakugou sort-of-maybe-kind-of indicates the possibility of a hug. Then he’s throwing himself on the bed, the sight of raw skin and gauze-white turning his tackle into a marginally gentler embrace of Bakugou’s shoulders.

Bakugou squeezes back, brutally tight. “Hold back on me again and I’m kicking you out.”

A wheeze of breath turns into hushed laughter. “I’ll do better.” Kirishima tucks his face against Bakugou’s neck and sniffles. “I’ll be good, Nitro, I swear.”

Bakugou knocks their heads together, too gentle to even register as that. His lips against Kirishima’s temple, he mumbles, “You already are, idiot. One dumb mistake won’t change that.”

>>Chapter 9.

[90sgrungestory]

Chapter Eleven: Chris's POV

A/N: New chapter! Sorry it’s so late :( This is kinda short so I’ll try to post the next one quickly.

TW for panic attacks and vomiting.

Chris wakes up in a bed he instantly recognizes as Jeff’s – he’s spent a lot of drunken nights crashing at Jeff’s when he couldn’t make it home. He rolls over, still a little disoriented, and sees Jeff sleeping on the floor next to the bed, wrapped in an overlarge flannel shirt.

“Jeff,” he mumbles, stretching his arm out and poking Jeff lightly. “Jeff.” He’s aching all over, his head is pounding, and he already feels nauseated, but he also feels like he might die if he doesn’t get some water. “Jeff!”

“Ungh,” Jeff groans. “What, Chris?”

“I need some water,” Chris says, and his throat is so dry he can barely stand to talk. Jeff doesn’t move. “Jeff, I need some water!”

“Jesus,” Jeff mutters, pushing himself up drowsily. “Fine, hang on.”

Chris slowly sinks back down into the pillows, squeezing his eyes shut. It occurs to him that his shirt is totally soaked in sweat, and he sits up suddenly to take it off and nearly vomits at the spike of pain in his head. Since when had he become such a lightweight?

Jeff returns a minute later with a glass of water and Chris gulps it down desperately, savoring the cool relief on his parched throat, before he gags and throws it up on Jeff’s sheets. Granted, it seems to be pretty much entirely water, but Jeff still lets out a furious, “What the hell, man?!” and Chris groans a little and eases himself back down; his arms are weak and he can feel them trembling violently under his weight.

Jeff stomps over and yanks the sheets off, glaring at Chris, and Chris shivers violently at the sudden cold. “I’m not supposed to have hangovers this bad anymore,” he says to no one in particular, and Jeff shoots him a look.

“Well, you just puked on my sheets, so deal with it,” Jeff snaps. Chris mumbles a half-hearted “sorry,” reprimanded, and Jeff leaves to put the sheets in the wash. Chris curls up in a ball and doesn’t move until he feels Jeff tapping his shoulder.

“You okay?” Jeff asks reluctantly, and Chris thinks he might get sick again if he nods so he forces out a quiet “yes” and that seems to satisfy him. After a minute or two Jeff taps his shoulder again and Chris reluctantly opens his eyes.

“What?” he mumbles, and Jeff sets a massive Tupperware down in front of him on the bed, obscuring his view.

“Throw up in this if you can’t make it to the bathroom,” he instructs, and Chris tries to convey without moving or speaking that he understands. Thankfully, Jeff doesn’t seem to care.

“Okay,” he says, “are you okay for a while? I need to go feed Eddie’s cat.”

“Yuh,” Chris grunts, and immediately squeezes his eyes shut when Jeff flips on the lights.

“Sorry,” Jeff says, not sounding very sorry. “I have to find my keys.”

Chris doesn’t bother responding – in fact, he’s starting to drift off when Jeff finally turns the lights off again. He feels the bed dip suddenly and figures Jeff must have sat down on it.

“Listen, Chris,” Jeff starts, and sure enough, his voice is closer than before and grating as hell. “I’m guessing you’re too hungover to talk about it right now. And I know I don’t normally – do this kind of thing,” he says, sounding incredibly embarrassed. “But this is getting to be a problem, Chris. I’m serious.”

Chris’s brain takes a minute or two to understand that, and even then he can’t think of an intelligent response, so he just stays quiet.

“Okay,” Jeff says after a minute, quietly. He sounds disappointed. “See you in a bit.”

“’Kay,” Chris croaks out, and feels Jeff get up. For a minute he listens to Jeff’s footsteps receding, and then the door slamming behind him, and then he slowly, painfully pushes himself up, stopping every time he starts to feel queasy. As sick as he may be, there’s no way he’s just laying around in Jeff’s apartment until Jeff gets back just to be lectured. Besides, he wants to be there if Stone – or Eddie – tries to call him. Slowly, painfully, he struggles to his feet.

Chris wakes up to the sound of someone yelling his name and smacking him in the face; he blinks a few times to clear his eyes and sees that it’s Jeff.

“Wha’?” he mumbles, wincing at the pain in his head, and Jeff stops instantly.

“Chris! Jesus, I thought –” he blurts, and hugs Chris tightly, scaring him half to death.

“What the fuck,” he mutters, weakly trying to push Jeff off. “Where am I?”

“My hallway,” Jeff says, sitting back and seeming a little embarrassed. “I guess you passed out trying to get to the bathroom or something, I found you laying face down, right there, totally still…” His voice trails off and Chris figures out why he hugged him.

“Oh,” he says, and throws up again. Jeff groans in disgust and scoots back so he doesn’t get hit.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Remind me to never be worried about you again.”

“It’s just water,” Chris groans out. His head hurts so bad he thinks he might pass out again. “Got any Oxy?”

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Jeff says, getting up. “Hang on, I still have to clean up your puke.”

“Jeff,” Chris pleads shakily. Jeff sighs.

“Fine,” he says. “One sec.”

Chris lays his head back down in the vomit puddle and lets his eyes rest for a minute until he hears Jeff swear loudly above him.

“That’s fucking disgusting,” Jeff says when Chris opens his eyes drowsily, but he’s too tired and sick to move. After a minute he feels Jeff pulling him up and he allows himself to be dragged to the bathtub. Jeff dumps him inside, a little roughly, and Chris groans in pain. Jeff takes pity and hands him the baggy of Oxy, thank God, and Chris dry swallows all of them.

“Don’t take that many, the last thing I need is the lead singer of Soundgarden dying in my bathtub,” Jeff mutters, but Chris doesn’t bother answering. It’s Jeff’s own fault for bringing him to his house.

“I gotta get back to my house,” he says, and starts to sit up before he gets slapped in the face with his own vomit-y hair. “Jesus,” he mutters in disgust, and Jeff eases him back down before he abruptly flips on the shower, ice cold. Chris yelps in shock and then winces at the noise, and Jeff looks smug.

“This is your fault,” he reminds Chris, and it hits Chris so hard he almost throws up again. He feels his chest tightening and his stomach turns over, and he frantically scrambles up and out of the bathtub, trying to get out of the water. He’s already struggling to breathe.

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” Jeff demands, his voice slightly higher.

“I – I can’t – I can’t breathe,” Chris wheezes out, shaking his hands out frantically and trying to make Jeff understand. “I can’t –”

“Okay, calm down,” Jeff says, gently but a little awkwardly. Chris shakes his head, panicked.

“Jeff,” he moans, gasping helplessly for air, and Jeff pats his arm unhelpfully. Chris shakes his head, and stumbles back a little; his vision is filled with black spots and his head feels light. He distantly hears Jeff saying “woah,” and all of a sudden he’s on the floor, leaned over and heaving desperately.

“Okay,” Jeff says from somewhere behind him, and he feels a hand rubbing his back. “Okay, just try to breathe slowly, okay? Uh, shit,” he mutters. Chris squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a noise of agitation, but he can feel the intense pressure in his chest easing up a little and it’s not so hard to breathe. He still stays like that, on his hands and knees, and pants heavily as he recovers for a few minutes, Jeff’s hand heavy on his back.

“Okay,” Jeff says, sounding a little scared, and Chris lets out a shaky breath and sits back. “Are you good now?”

Chris nods weakly, exhausted. “Shit,” he whispers, letting his eyes drift shut. Jeff pats his back awkwardly and finally drops his hand.

“Whoo,” Jeff breathes out, wiping his forehead. “Okay. I’m gonna go… call Stone.”

“Stone’s driving to California,” Chris tells his back, and Jeff mumbles something incomprehensible and doesn’t stop. Chris exhales and buries his head in his hands, letting a few shaky sobs escape before he feels himself starting to get panicky and forces himself to calm down and breathe slowly.

“Jeff,” he calls out shakily, but Jeff doesn’t answer so he just sits on the bathroom floor until he can’t stand it anymore. He pushes himself up and grabs the wall, regaining his balance for a minute before he starts down the hallway.

To his surprise Chris can actually hear Jeff talking on the phone to someone, although he can’t tell who. He quietly unlocks the door and slips out before Jeff can notice. It occurs to him as he starts walking towards home that he doesn’t have a car and he’s still hungover as fuck. He manages to walk almost a full block before he gets lightheaded and has to kneel on the sidewalk for a minute to regain his balance; he’s still kneeling there when a battered yet familiar green truck pulls up next to him, and Chris doesn’t bother glancing over before he struggles to his feet and walks around to get in the passenger’s side.

“Hey, Chris,” Kim says, turning the radio down slightly as he peels out. “Heading home after your ‘special night’ with Jeff?”

“Ha, ha,” Chris mutters, and turns the radio down more. His head is pounding.

“Nice bandage,” Kim quips, gesturing at Chris’s head. “Aren’t you supposed to not get those wet?”

“Maybe,” Chris says. He doesn’t feel like talking. Kim finally glances over and raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Is Cornell hungover?” he asks lightly. “I thought you were immune.”

“Apparently not,” Chris snaps, laying his head back on the headrest and staring out the window intently. Kim doesn’t seem to get the message.

“Hey, this is rare, you can’t expect me not to milk it,” he says sarcastically. “Are you actually going home, by the way?”

Chris exhales heavily. “Yes,” he says, a little painfully. He’s still trying not to look at Kim.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking about the whole hiatus thing,” Kim says after a moment, sounding slightly unsure. “I’ve been thinking… I know Matt is doing that whole Mookie Blaylock thing now. I think we should –”

“Make it permanent,” Chris finishes for him because he knows what Kim will say, already feeling that familiar sense of numb detachment.

“What?” Kim whips his head around to stare at Chris in horror. “You want to break up the band?”

“I – what?” Chris suddenly feels a little dizzy at the rush of emotions. “You don’t?”

“No, of course not!” Kim says, still clearly horrified. “I was going to say it was time to end the hiatus, not the band! What the fuck, Chris?!”

“I – I don’t know,” Chris whispers, almost inaudible even to his own ears. “I thought that was what you were going to say, I didn’t – I don’t–"

“Okay,” Kim says after a second, rubbing his eyes. “So you don’t actually think we should break up?”

“No, I mean,” Chris is starting to get short of breath and he really needs to calm himself down, “I thought that’s what you guys wanted. Because of – me. I wanted to stay a band, I didn’t even want a break, I just agreed because I thought you guys needed to – Kim I really can’t breathe,” he blurts and Kim immediately pulls over, glancing over in concern.

“Are you having an anxiety attack?” he asks alertly, because he’s used to Chris’s antics, and Chris grips his knees and drops his head, taking deep, shaky breaths. Kim rubs his shoulders, like he has a million times before, and Chris closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling until he feels the intense pressure in his chest begin to ease up.

“I’m okay,” he breathes out after a few minutes, and Kim nods but doesn’t start driving again.

“Has this been happening a lot?” he asks, clearly trying to sound less worried than he is. Chris winces in guilt.

“No,” he lies, “just a normal amount.”

“Okay,” Kim says doubtfully, “because normally it takes a lot more.”

“Oh,” Chris says, suddenly incredibly embarrassed. He is being kind of a pussy. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s – not the point,” Kim mutters, and Chris can tell he’s disappointed even though he’s not sure why.

“Sorry,” he says again, quieter, and Kim just shakes his head and starts driving again.

“So – the band,” he says, and Chris nods quickly. “You want to end the hiatus, right?”

“Yes,” Chris says instantly, and then realizes that was too fast. “If everyone else wants to, obviously.”

“I do,” Kim says. “I know Ben does, I already asked him. It’s just Matt we have to talk to, because he’s doing the Mookie Blaylock thing.”

“Okay,” Chris says, although he knows Matt won’t come back when he could be in a band with Eddie instead. Besides, even if he would come back, he couldn’t do that to Eddie – or Stone, or Jeff, or Mike.

“So… let’s go talk to him,” Kim says, like it’s obvious.

“Right now?” Chris says. He’d thought he would have more time to come up with an excuse.

“Stone and what’s-his-face are in California, Jeff’s recovering from your rough barebacking – this is the perfect time to talk to him, when they’re not there to convince him to stay.”

“I didn’t fuck Jeff,” Chris mutters, like it matters. Kim is looking at him expectantly. “That doesn’t seem really fair, anyway,” he adds hesitantly. Kim raises his eyebrows.

“Chris, he was in our band first,” he says forcefully. “They poached him from us, it’s not like we’re stealing one of their founding members.”

“…Okay,” Chris says, because he really misses being in a band. Eddie can always find another drummer.

“Sweet,” Kim says, grinning at him, and Chris smiles a little too even though his head is still pounding and he’s sweating a ridiculous amount considering how cold he is. “To Matt’s house.”

“To Matt’s,” Chris mutters, shooting Kim a tiny smile. Kim beams back, and Chris is finally starting to feel like things are right again.

[lady-olive-oil]

Work Out: Chapter 1

The moment you’ve all been waiting for; chapter 1 of Work Out. It took a lot out of me to finally get this out and im glad it’s here. The song in this is My Love For You by Sevyn Streeter, and I’m having it to where Geneva sings a few songs and have written some. Hence why it’s so long and the lyrics are in it, i recommend you listen to it while Geneva sings. So without further ado, here we go! If ya wanna be apart of my Lil Nasties Tag Squad, let me know!

Warning(s): nothing but language and a few heated moments

Word Count: 3,009 [i snapped]

Lil Nasties: @maddiestundentwritergaines || @themyscxiras || @sparklemichele || @designerwriterchic || @honeychicana || @chaneajoyyy || @jojolu || @dc41896 || @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove || @jozigrrl

-3 Weeks Later-

“What in the pink Himalayan salt, is this shit?!”

The year barely started and I was already in deep with issues. With trying to open up my own gym; moving and trying to spend time with my friends, my soon to be ex husband just had to add more things to his side of the divorce settlement.

“Genevieve Leona. Language.” Her father had the chance to look over the new settlement that she has given, checking to see if there were any plausible loopholes.

Placing a gentle kiss on her father's graying cheek, she handed him a glass of water, before sitting across from him at the island.

“Sorry dad. But you of all people should know how difficult this is. You've handled cases harder than this.”

“Sweet pea, I get it. I do, but I need for you to calm down please?”

His hardworking hands were placed on top of my delicate one's, trying to ease my pain. Who knew that going through a divorce was so time consuming and dreadful.

“He just works my nerves. I’m glad I went with the prenup before hand, because he would've gotten half of my building space. Which I’m not having that.”

Opening my own space is a dream of mine, something I've always wanted since I was 12. Whether is was going to become a gym; a skating rink or a combination of both, I was going to have it. Jake knows about it too, but he doesn’t like seeing me succeed more than him.

“We’ll get this all straightened out soon enough. In the meantime, don’t work yourself up over this clown. Like ya mama says ‘he ain’t worth hella beans.’ She’s wise you know. Imma head on home, and we’ll talk more later.” A hearty chuckle escaped him, as he kissed my head before heading to his car, to make it home before the sunset.

“I know, I know. She was right about this one, maybe. Call me when you get home, pops. Ok?” Giving him one more goodbye kiss, I waved at him before making it back inside.

“Operation: Get Jake out of my Life, is a go. All I need is some wine and dancing. I know just who to call.”

Picking up the phone to dial the FaceTime group chat, I was greeted by the other two angels in my life.

“What’s up golden girls. Y’all busy this weekend?”

“Nah not really no. We could go out tonight, I just finished up the schedule for the upcoming comic con in July. Gotta have costumes on deck to win. Ryan and I are good to go, his work thing ain’t till Thursday right?

Destiny never stopped working, even after college she made sure her coin was on point.

“I’m free this weekend too. Yeah him and John have this medical convention Thursday, which I clocked it to be 15 min away, so we all good to tag along as a group. Whatcha have in mind?”

Cynthia, our resident spy, could never be too careful when it came to men she dated. But Johnny never gave her a reason to doubt him.

“Skate night at Roller Jam. I need to get loose for a few hours to some Cool & The Gang. Besides it’ll give y’all a chance to see ya girl get down on some wheels.”

Roller skating has been in my blood since I was in the womb. My parents met at a roller skating rink and they’ve been groovin ever since. I happen to be the captain of my own roller skating team called Roller Queens. Best team to ever roll into Staten Island.

“I can get down with that, be like old times.” Destiny agreed.

“Great times. Oh what about Mr. Tall, blonde and gorgeous? Have you talked to him lately?” Cynthia changed the subject.

“Ha ha. No I haven’t. But he has been blowing up my Instagram like crazy. I have replied a bit though, nothing too drastic. Some chicks  have been messaging me like ‘get away from him’; ‘he doesn’t want a hoe like you’ or ‘you’re not his type. Step off’ These little girls man, I’m telling you.”

It’s not like I don’t want Florian, I mean who doesn’t? Have you seen him lately? All jokes aside, I’m not looking for anything serious right now no way. I’m too busy trying to get my divorce finalized.

“We know you clapped them back. No time for the girls, this is grown woman ish.”

“What Dede said.” Cynthia chuckled a bit, candying is all to join in and I saw her man in the background. So I gave him a wave before looking at the time.

“Speaking of time, it’s getting late. I have to go get Leilani from the recording studio today since Lucas has their car and his game ran late. Plus Donny is on a date so, Older sister to the rescue.”

“We’ll see you at the rink Friday, ok?” Destiny said as she moved around the kitchen only for Ryan to say hi to me as well.

“Yeah. At like 5 ish, it’s late skate so it’s better. See y’all later. Mwha!” Sending then both my love and kisses, we hung up and went on about our business.

As I got ready to head downtown, I got a text from Michael saying he’s still in town for the next few weeks. That could only mean one thing: it was for business. Which also meant that Florian would be with him too. Maybe my week we starting to look up. I texted him what studio I’d be at, kill two birds with one stone.

Walking into the studio, I heard the smooth R&B sounds of Leilani’s voice through the speakers. This is where she’s always in her element, she turns everything out and puts her all into her vocals and practices. I couldn’t be more prouder of my siblings for going for their dreams.

“Good job little bird. Come out real quick would ya?” I smiled happily as she walked out the booth, proceeding to give me a hug in return.

“You really think I’m good? I know I need more practice, but I know I’m getting better day by day. How’s life going for you? Jake still being a little shit?” Leilani arched a brow, sitting in the chair across from me.

“As always. He added more “demands” to our divorce settlement, and I’m pretty sure I can’t meet them at all. So he’s stuck with his shit, and I keep mine.” I shrugged a tad, spinning in my chair and Leilani gave me a look.

“Well I hope he gets what he’s asking for cause all this is too much on me, and I ain’t even the one divorcing him. Let’s get your mind off of it, why don’t you go sing in the booth one time?” She suggested and the look turned into a smile.

“Me? In the booth? I haven’t done that in years Lei.” 6 years to be exact, but who's counting.

“That’s just it. Give it a shot and try it. That one song you were working on for the talent show, back home. What was it called?” She really wanted me to sing for her once. Anything for my sister I guess.

“My Love For You. It’s called My Love For You.”

“See?! Please sis? I want to hear you sang one time. I got Marcus here and we can cut it real fast. Nothing like a side hobby next to skating right? Please!” Leilani held my hands and gave me a puppy dog pout.

“Fine! Fine I’ll do it.” I broke down and earned a squeal from her, as I went into the booth. Putting on the headphones I saw Michael and  Florian walk in just in time.

“Oh snap, cuzzo going in the booth.” Michael received a hug from Leilani, before he introduced her Florian who was a smitten kitten over seen Geneva again.

“Yeah yeah. Mike, don’t distract me please I’m in my zone. And you brought Florian too. Now I gotta show out.” I shook my shoulders a bit, receiving some laughs from the group before getting the signal from Marcus.

“Yes I’m here too. Michael didn’t tell me you could sing. So I am interested even more now.” The smirk that etched his perfect face wasn’t helping the fact that he looked good in his red track suit. Jesus be a fence.

Did it get hot in here? The heat must be on cause my face was feeling warm, when he smirked at me. I can not lose myself over this man.

“I’m ok. Been a while but maybe it’ll all come back to me soon.”

With a slight nod, I opened my phone to the lyrics I had saved in my notes, and just went with the rhythm. I had to think of something that made me happy in order to do the song. At the time it was Jake but, now I just had myself.

The track started off and Leilani was already vibing to the beat. Michael was too, with Florian soon falling in line. Controlling my breathing, getting the hang of it all over again. Hearing the background vocals, I got into the groove.

I, I'm saving all the

I'm saving all my love for you (to you, I)

I'm saving all the love (whoo, oh)

I'm saving all my love for you

Looking straight at Florian, I decided pour all my emotion into the song to practically let him know what i was feeling without being direct.

Ridin' round town in your black Impala

With my baby, yeah, that's my partner

Look the other way when they tryna holler

So unbothered, we're so unbothered

See I got niggas slidin' in my DMs

Stevie Wonderin' if I'ma ever see 'em

But I don't pay that shit no mind

No, I don't give that shit no time, no time

I just curve 'em from the a.m. to the p.m

Oh, baby, you're the reason

That none of these niggas can touch me

Ain't none of these niggas get lucky

No, no, no, no, no

Florian’s POV

“Man, I think she’s singing to you.” Michael lean over towards me, mumbling about something as a smirk appeared on my face.

“Maybe so. Remember the bet I told you about, that we set at the New Years party? I still have to prove myself to her a lot if I want to make this work.” I mentioned while leaning against the wall. Entranced by her voice.

“Yeah yall both told me about it actually. You think you can do it? I mean she’s pretty persistent with whom she dates. Last guy only lasted 3 weeks, on top of her on going divorce cause Jake plays too much.” Michael had informed me about her future ex husband and how much of a moocher he is. The faster he leaves, the better chance I have.

“Better me than him.” I knew i had to make a good impression on her at least, because she hasn’t been treated right in so long from what I’ve been told by her friends. Giving her my undivided attention, I know she felt the sudden shift in change.

Geneva’s POV

Whatever the boys were talking about must’ve been important, by the way there were engaged in the topic. Once Florian looked at me again I got back into the zone, hitting those notes.

Only you, yeah, it's only you that get my attention

Only you, swear it's only you, ain't no competition, no

'Cause baby, you give me everything that I've been missin'

That's why I'm saving all my love for you

yeah yeah, saving all my love

Saving all my love for you

(I'm saving all my love)

Saving, saving all my love, I'm saving all my love for you

It ain't with nobody else, you got it all to yourself

Just keep doin' what you do, baby

And I'ma keep saving all my love for you

Oh oh oh

Saving all my love for you, saving all my love for you

(I, I'm saving all the love I'm saving all my love for you) Yeah

I felt the rhythm all over my body while moving to the beat, imagining what it would be like to be with someone who might actually love me for me.

Yeah, if I had a hundred, I would break you off a fifty

Yeah, I know you'd do the same, I know you'd split it with me

Yeah, on ya team, Micheal Jordan, Scottie Pippin

Long as we got each other, I ain't trippin'

You the one, you the realest, you the realest (I, I)

Only you, yeah, it's only you (only you) that get my attention

Only you, swear it's only you, ain't no competition, no

'Cause baby, you give me everything that I've been missin' (oh)

That's why I'm saving all my love for you

“Oh shit, sis is snappin on the vocals.” I could hear Leilani through the cracked door with one headphone on my right ear. It felt good seeing her vibe to me singing, it was something we do growing up. To get that opportunity again was amazing. Florian kept smirking at me, with a sudden lovey look in his green-gold eyes. He was leaning by Marcus, on the soundboard just in tranced by everything. I gave it my all and even hit a high note in there.

Saving, saving saving all my love

Saving all my love for you

I been saving (saving it for you)

(I'm saving all my love)

Saving all my love, saving all my love for you

You got it all to yourself

Just keep doin' what you do, baby

And I'ma keep saving all my love (all my) for you, oh (oh yeah)

Saving all my love (my love) for you, saving all my love for you

All (you) my (you) love (you) for you

(You) all (you) of my love saving all my love

You got it all to yourself

Just keep doin' what you do baby, yeah yeah

You got it all to yourself

Just keep doin' what you do baby, doin' what you do baby, yeah

You got it all to yourself

Just keep doin' what you do baby, doin' what you do baby, yeah yeah

You got it all to yourself

Just keep doin' what you do, baby, doin' what you do, baby, hey

Oh, what you do to me, baby

Oh, what you do to me, baby

I, I'm saving all the

I'm saving all my love for you (for you, I)

I, I'm saving all the

I'm saving all my love for you

Sending a wink in Florian’s direction, the game had started for us both. I had remembered that skate night was this weekend, the perfect opportunity to get this bet started. Coming out the booth feeling giddy about myself, I received a hug from my sister gaining my confidence over tenfold.

“You my dear, have a gift.” Florian took my hand and placed a kiss on top of it, trying to sway my way.

“Thanks. It’s one of my hidden talents, that I let you see without an ulterior motive.” with an arch in my brow, I gained a few laughs in the room. Looking him up and down, he eyed me too.

“You plan on giving me a show with your other talents, love?” He arched his brow as well, biting his bottom lip. Michael and Leilani were eating up the commentary.

Leilani took a picture of me for a split second, along with getting one of Florian with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Now yall both can either kiss already or do the first challenge. Am I right?” Mike reminded us both, setting the whole mood in motion.

“He’s right. Listen, this friday there’s a skate night at my old stomping grounds; Roller Jam in Staten Island. If you can skate to the beat, with some rhythm, I’ll go on a date with you.” crossing my arms across my chest, I felt confident in myself and always up for a challenge.

“Roller skating? You may have to help me out then. I’m tall enough but willing to learn.” Florian nodded in agreement and smiled genuinely at me. He handed me his phone to plug his number in, to set the game in motion and vice versa.

Sending the directions to the skating rink to him, I managed to take a picture of myself for the contact, and he did one for his in my phone. Before I left with my sister I set the tone of the challenge, standing on my tippy toes in my vermillion Nike Air Maxs, and placed a sweet kiss to his cheek. Looking into the reflective mirror on the wall I saw his cheeks turn red. His scent caught my senses, and it was intoxicating. He smelled like a warm fire and cocoa, something I wouldn't mind snuggling up against. Pulling away, I saw him look into my eyes for a split second, drawing me in but I had to be strong.

“Let the games begin, Munteanu.” With a gentle whisper against his ear, I grabbed my things and left him there speechless. Watching him watch me walk away with a sway in my hips.

“Let the games begin indeed, Shaw.” he was biting his plump bottom and giving me a once over one last time.

“You got it bad for my cousin bro. Let’s just hope for your sake, Jake doesn't come around and try to win her back.” I heard my cousin say to Florian as they left as well.

“I’d like to seem him try. I never lose.” the confidence in his voice stirred something in me, awakened the desire in me to finally be happy.

If Jake thinks he can mess up my fun, well he’s got another thing coming.

[darks-ink]

Weirdward Chapter 4

Fandoms: Danny Phantom, Harry Potter Rating: K+ / Teen (some swearing) Warnings: None Relationships: Danny Fenton & Tucker Foley & Sam Manson (platonic) Additional Tags: Crossover, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Identity Reveal, Fluff & Bonding, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, not Phantom Planet compliant but set after D-Stabilized Summary: When Sirius and Remus are asked to travel all the way to America to recruit a powerful new ally for the Order, they expect to be gone for months, tracking this potential ally and satisfying his demands. When he asks them instead, his only demand, to teach three 15 year old teenagers magic, well. It wasn’t like they were there on orders of the headmaster of Hogwarts, were they?

Let Me Rest. Chapters went up in time but I’m a day late with this post because I was away at an all-weekend event and I Am Sleep. Uh. As for the chapter, we get some Danny POV and also learn more about the setting? Whoo.

[read chapter 4 on ArchiveOfOurOwn] [read chapter 4 on fanfiction.net]

[happyumbrellla]

Sanders and Weasley : Chapter 4

Chapter 4 : Gobelet of fire :

POV Khalla

 It was Ginny's awakening that woke me up from my sleep:

        -Come on, girls, we're gone, she cried.

How did she get so energetic so early in the morning? Hermione and I stretched at the same time while Ginny was already putting on clean clothes. I dressed and combed my hair before putting my stuff in my hiking bag. I put on my sneakers and went downstairs to join Ginny and the Weasley parents downstairs:

        -Hello, girls.

        -Hello Molly, hello Arthur.

We started having lunch and talking until the boys joined us:

        -Hello, everyone.

        -Hi.

From then on, the table was much more animated:

        -Are you ready, asked the father of the family.

        -Yes. But where are we going?

        -You will see. Come on, we're gone.

We loaded our bags on our backs and set off. The twins slowed down their steps to come and supervise me:

        -Did you sleep well?

        -All right. And you?

        -Super good.

        -You don't know where we're going either?

        -If. But we won't tell you anything.  

        -Thank you very much, boys. I feel even less reassured.

        -You are safe. We're protecting you.

        -What a chance to have my two knights in armor at my side, I replied by passing an arm around one of theirs.

        -In your noble lady's service, Fred replied, kissing on the back of my hand.

        -Oh, please, sighed his twin brother. Ask him for God's sake.

Fred turned red like a tomato:

        -Ask me what?

Arthur Weasley turned around:

        -Ask you to go out with him.

        -Daddy, he cried.

The father raised his hands as a sign of peace before getting back on track. I was quite amused by Fred's discomfort:

        -Hey, you should try it. Maybe I'll say yes to you.

He looked at me with big eyes as I winked at him.

A few moments later, we met Amos Diggory and his son Cedric. Hermione, Ginny and I looked at each other and exchanged smiles when we saw the young man. He wasn't bad, but I preferred a certain ginger. In fact, when I slipped a glance at him, he was grinning at our reaction. We continued on our way to a portoloin. I was hoping not to get sick on the way. Portoloin trips made me so dizzy that every other time I threw up. But this time, no, which was a miracle:

        -Drop all the children!

        -What?, shouted Hermione.

        -Let go. Let go.

And we did it. I started kicking my legs to pretend I was walking and land on my feet, just like the two adults and Cedric. The rest of our group having laid lamentably on the ground. I helped the twins get back on their feet:

        -Is there anything on Earth you can't do?

        -Coffee.

They smiled and we followed Arthur and Amos. They took us to the top of a small embankment and we were able to see the Quidditch site in London, surrounded by I don't know how many tents. We were at the Quidditch World Cup! :

        -Come on, children, Arthur said.

There were so many people there. So that no one would get lost in the crowd, we stayed together. I was surprised when Fred's hand came to take mine. I had every chance in the world to lose myself since I was looking from everywhere. I had never seen so many activities and people gathered in the same place before. So I tightened my fingers on hers while continuing my observation of everything around me:

        -We'll meet again later, Arthur?

        -See you later, Amos. Cedric.  

Our small group headed for a particular tent. She was small but I was sure she was doubling in size inside. And I was not mistaken:

        -Girls, choose your beds and settle down. Ron comes out of the kitchen, we're all hungry.

        -Yes, Ron, came out of the kitchen, said the twins at the same time.  

        -No feet on the table.

        -No feet on the table, they repeated, removing and then putting their feet back on the table.

Once we were settled, Arthur told us that we had to go. He surrounded the tent with magical protection to prevent the theft of our belongings as we left the tent. On the way to the Quidditch field, Fred once again took my hand. I didn't say anything.

When we arrived in front of the stadium entrance, we decided to choose our colours. Only Harry and Ron were chosen to support the Bulgarians. We chose the Irish:

        -At what level are we placed Arthur?

        -You're going to see. Get in the car. Come on. Come on.

And we did it. Always higher. Ron was growling that his feet were starting to hurt:

        -We're going to be all the way up, Harry asked.

        -At least, if it rains, you'll be the first to know.

We turned our heads to see Lucius and Drago Malfoy on the bridge opposite down below. Merlin I hated them:

        -Father and I are in the minister's dressing room. By invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself, Drago bragged.

        -Don't brag, Drago. With these people there is no need....

We all frowned and turned our backs. He used his cane to block a piece of Harry's jacket between his silver snake and the metal ramp on the platform. My fingers instinctively slipped towards my wand. Try anything Daddy Malfoy and you'll feel it passing:

        -Have a good time, Mr. Potter. While you still can, he said before giving a fake smile and releasing Harry.

I didn't like his insinuation at all, but we didn't say anything and shot Harry with us to ignore the Malfoys.

 When we reached the top, we found Amos and Cedric. And before I knew it, I found myself between Ginny and Fred. It's been a long time since I've had so much fun.

I couldn't help but smile at the twins and Ron's idiocies. They had completely cracked. Almost everyone does, by the way. The excitement outside has become more intense. Arthur went out for a moment to see what was going on:

        -The victory is loud, Fred said.

Father Weasley came back in a hurry:

        -Stop, he shouted. It's not the Irish.

We all kept silent:

        -We have to leave. Now.

Hermion, Ginny and I looked at each other, worried:

        -Come on. Come on. Leave everything there, we'll come back later.

I still took my wand before leaving the tent:

        -Fred! George! George! Ginny is your responsibility. Go to the portoloin. And stay together!

Fred grabbed my hand, George Ginny's hand and we started running, the trio on our heels. We suddenly stopped between two tents to avoid a crowd movement. I was afraid:

        Harry! -Harry!

We all turned our attention to Hermione, then to Harry whom we saw as being far from our group by the crowd:

        -Damn it.

        -We have to get out of here.

        -We can't leave him here, shouted Ginny.

        -We'll come back for it later but if we stay here, we'll get lost and maybe even killed.

We took advantage of a slightly quieter moment to get out of the festival. We found ourselves facing a man dressed in black, wearing a skeletal mask. He pointed his wand at us but didn't have time to do much. I immediately launched a Reducto that sent him very far from us:

        -Whoo. Nice Khalla.

        Thank you.

We returned to the portoloin and looked back. Many tents were burning:

        -I hope Daddy is fine, breathed Fred.

        -I'm sure, I answered.

I instinctively snuggled up against Fred and he put his arm around my shoulders.

When all the excitement had subsided, we went down to the ruins to find Harry. We almost had a first cardiac arrest when we saw the mark of darkness forming in the sky and a second when we were surrounded by Aurors. Fortunately, Arthur was there to save us...

I think I've never been happier to return to Hogwarts in my life. But after what happened at the end of the holidays, I needed to regain the security of the castle walls. It was going to be a quiet year and I was going to be able to work on designing new potions and products for Fred and Gorge. Nothing at all, yeah. This year, the 3 Wizards Tournament was held at Hogwarts. We were now housing the boys from Durmstrang and the girls from Beauxbâtons. Ginny, Hermione and I frowned when we saw the boys almost drooling on the girls from the other magic school. And no doubt our male friends felt uncomfortable with the boys from Durmstrang:

-No student under 17 years of age may submit their name to participate in the tournament.

Almost all students under the age limit began to boo the decision, even the twins. But I was happy that they couldn't participate, at least they would survive another year. And this new professor of defense against the evil forces was really shady.

        -Please Khalla, begged me again Gorge.

I sighed:

        -The answer is no.

        -But why?

-It's an easy potion for you.

        -Yes, it's just an aging potion.

        -Because I don't want to be a part of your death.

        -You don't do anything like that.

        -No. On the contrary, you are helping us to embark on a great adventure that could bring us quite a bit of money.

I turned around suddenly to the twins and struck them with my eyes:

        -I won't help you. I would rather you hate me for not helping you potentially get money than knowing that I helped you kill yourself.

I saw Fred open his mouth to answer, but I lifted a finger to make him silent:

        -I don't want to hear from you. Neither you nor you, I concluded by pointing at Gorge.

I put my book away and left the library. They had pissed me off both of them. So in order not to be mean to them, I preferred to stay away. I went to find Hermione. She was reading in the park at her usual place:

        -Hello. Can I join you?

        -Of course, of course.

We talked for a long time before returning to the castle. If Hermione chose to go to the cup room to spend time with some of her friends, I chose to go to the dormitory to rest for a while. I wrote a letter to Hugo and one to my parents. I had just sent the latter thanks to my owl when I heard the common room frame open:

        -You'll never guess.

I looked up at Harry:

        -Fred and Gorge made an aging potion and Dumblerdore's protective spell made them old.

I couldn't help laughing. It was well done for them. I wasn't going to feel sorry for them:

        -Did you make them the potion?

        -Certainly not. They did it on their own. I'm not going to feel sorry for them.

Harry smiled before he sat beside me. We talked until dinner. We went down together and joined the rest of our friends. The twins were not there. Probably in the infirmary or trying to get back to normal.

I had just sat on one of the benches in the enchanting room when Fred sat on my left and Gorge on my right, after jumping the table:

        -You're back to normal as far as I can see.

        -Are you mad at us?

        -Not really. I must admit, I'm glad you were set up.

        -Do you still love us?

I smiled as I looked up to the sky:

        -You're still my two favorite idiots if that's the question.

They exchanged a relieved look before asking me if I had any ideas for new compositions. I was happy to meet my regular Weasley twins again.

We were all shocked when Harry Potter's name came out of the Cup. There, now I was worried about him.

Ginny and I were upset that Fred and Gorge were making bets on the first task. They were dragons for God's sake and human lives, not a game. I stayed with Ginny for the whole event. I didn't want to be near those two idiots. Needless to say, I was most relieved when Harry came back alive from his chase with his dragon that had broken his chains. I celebrated with the rest of Gryffindor his victory. Fred didn't let go that night. He wanted to make amends for everything that had happened lately:

        -I promise you I'll make it up to you soon.

        -You don't need to do it. I don't blame you... Too much.

        -So you're a little angry with me. I'll make it up to you.

He kissed my cheek before I went to sleep.

McGonagall was far too happy to show us how to dance. I couldn't help but smile when Ron was chosen to dance with her. I stood perfectly still in my chair when our house manager invited us to dance together. I didn't particularly like it. At worst, if I don't go to that dance, it wasn't a big deal.

We were in the main room working. Professor Snape was in charge of watching us. I was just writing the assignment he had asked us for when Fred sent a note to Ron in front of me:

        -Who are you going with?, he asked him in response.

I thought he was going to ask me, everyone thought so... Fred folded a paper to form a ball and sent it to... Angelina. I couldn't believe it. He asked her to go to the ball with him under the stunned eyes of his two brothers, Harry and Hermione. And mine of course. I couldn't believe it. I naively thought he would ask me. I had it... Hopefully. I clenched my teeth, swallowed my tears and finished my writing before getting up without a word more. I handed Snape my homework before I took my book and left the main room. I needed some air and not see Fred for a while to digest my disappointment. Didn't he say he'd make it up to me?

I was sad to know that Fred had asked Angelina rather than me. And Angelina, why did she say yes when she knew I had feelings for Fred? What about her for George? I couldn't concentrate on my book:

        -I'm as disgusted as you are.

I jumped when I heard George's voice. I turned my head towards him:

        -What are you talking about?

        -I wanted to go to the ball with Angelina and you with Fred... And they went together... We go together?

I thought about it for a moment:

        -I suggest we make them both jealous.

George gave me a huge smile:

        -With pleasure.

It was a plan I liked.

I had chosen a long red dress tied around my neck, with a rather plunging neckline and a naked back that only stopped in the hollow of my back above my buttocks, and this naked back was completed by some thin golden chains. I had pulled my hair up into a bun from which a few strands escaped. I had lightly made up my lips with a red matching my dress and my eyes were highlighted in black:

        -You look beautiful Khalla, Ginny breathed.

        -Thank you. You look very beautiful too.

        -Thank you. I'm sure Fred will be blown away.

        -I'm not going with Fred, miss. I'm going with George.

        -What? But I thought he was going to ask you.

I looked sad:

        -I thought so too. No, he's going with Angelina.

        -But what an idiot, grunted Ginny.

It made me smile. I was thinking the same thing. Ginny and I stepped down together from the dormitory and when we reached the main hall, most people looked at me. I thought George's jaw was going to hit the ground:

        -Made her wish she hadn't invited you, Ginny told me.

        -I'm counting on it.

I kissed him on the cheek before heading to my rider, under the dazzled eyes of many students. I put two fingers under George's chin to make him close his mouth:

        -You're... Woha.

        -Thank you George and you're very good too.

He smiled:

        -Let's make them regret their choice of partners for tonight," he said as he introduced me to his arm.

        -With joy, I replied by placing one hand on his arm.

To say that our entrance was noticed would have been a euphemism. All eyes were on us. From the corner of my eye, I saw Fred's face. He seemed shocked and surprised and... Jealous. Just like Angelina who struck me with her eyes. Our bet was on track to succeed:

        -I didn't tell him who I was coming with, George whispered to me.

        -You did the right thing. His current head is totally worth it.

It was his turn to look discreetly at his brother:

        -You know we both have a chance of being killed.

        -So let's enjoy this evening.

My date smiled at me:

        -I couldn't have said it better myself.

We headed towards Fred and Angelina:

        -Evening, I said friendly.

        -Evening, creaked Fred as he looked at his brother as if he was going to kill him.

        -You look beautiful Khalla.

        -Thank you. You too.

I could see in her eyes how envious she was of me right now. I loved Angelina, we were very good friends, but right now I hated her and she probably felt the same way about me tonight. We had stolen our dream partners. All because of Fred:

        -You didn't tell us you were coming together, grunted Fred.

        -It was obvious, George replied.

And he kissed my hand:

        -Finally a true gentleman.

Fred clenched his right fist while Angelina was grinning. Oh, I feel like I was going to have a great time tonight. Dumbledore placed himself in the center of the room:

        -And now we will welcome our champions.

We formed an alley around the door to let Fleur, Krum, Cedric and Harry in. I was happy for Hermione. She herself seemed very happy to be on Viktor Krum's arm. Ron, on the other hand, looked disgusted. Was it the missed couples' night tonight or was it me?

 POV Fred

 I just couldn't believe it. My own brother had just turned my own game against me. Angelina and I wanted to make George and Khalla jealous by going to the ball together, but it seems they had decided to put our projects on the ground by going together. And now we were the ones who were jealous of their complicity. George whispered things to her that made her laugh softly as the champions opened the ball. Khalla was beautiful in that dress and Merlin knew that I didn't like all the looks that were slipping on her tonight. I almost choked myself when George and Khalla went on the dance floor at the same time as Ginny and Neville. I envied his hands on his pale skin and the proximity of their bodies as they danced an almost perfect waltz:

        -I think our plan turned against us, Fred.

        -I haven't said my last word, Angelina. We'll have what we want before the end of the evening, Weasley's faith.

She smiled as I took her with me on the track. After a few laps, I interrupted my brother and Khalla:

        -Can we exchange our riders for the time of this dance?

She and George looked at each other:

        -Do not ruin it for me, I took it from you," he replied, presenting me Khalla's hand.  

It's your nose I'm gonna break, bro. Khalla put her hand on my shoulder as I put mine in the hollow of her back and our hands joined. We started dancing without talking and then I snapped:

        -Why George? Why George? You could have gone with anyone else.

She looked at me with... Fun? :

        -Are you jealous, Fred?

I squeezed my fingers on hers:

        -I'll take that as a yes. Well, next time, you'll think about your choice of partner.

She turned her head towards George and I couldn't help but want to put my lips on her white skin to affix a hickey. I swallowed before I looked at my brother. He and Angelina seemed to be having a conversation similar to the one I had with Khalla:

        -Go out with me.

I didn't think for more than two seconds before I said his words. And I regretted a little when she brought her attention back to me, with her eyes wide open.

 POV Khalla

 Did I hear you correctly?:

        -What did you just say?

        -I... Go out with me?

I let go of his hand to put both my hands on his neck. Then I forced him to bend down to kiss her. Fred squeezed his hands on my hips before wrapping his arms around my waist and deepening our kiss. We detached ourselves to breathe:

        -Is that a yes?

        -That's a yes.

And he kissed me again. We spent the rest of the evening stuck together dancing slowly and hugging each other. I could see that Gorge was also moving forward on his side, more slowly but it was better to move forward small steps by small steps.

The following weeks were the most beautiful of my life... Until the end of the Tournament... And the death of Cedric Digory and the return of Voldemort according to Harry and Dumbledore.

The following years were not easy but we all remained in solidarity with each other and we won. Now we are happier than ever.

  miss-gleek-freak-geek, this is for you. I hope you enjoyed the story to the end. And thank you for giving me the courage to finish this translation.

 Masterlist

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