#not three classes on top of a full time job and volunteering and maybe also the vague outline of a social life!!!!

[starbuck]

you know, i think my real issue is that i always have to be professional. gotta be professional at work, gotta create professional-level school work, gotta be professional as a volunteer…

what if i broke everything in my house and screamed until i lost my voice?

[nsheetee]

mocha | jeno

pairing: basketball player!jeno x barista!reader genre: coffee shop au | fluff, slight angst summary: you tutor star basketball player jeno when you realize he’s spending late nights studying in the cafe you work at.

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this is a part of the moonlight cafe series — please read the preface before continuing reading

he walks as if he’s in a hurry, not minding the jingling bell on the door above him and sits down at a booth in the corner of the cafe

he has a baseball cap on, and a hoodie over that; you can’t recognize who he is at all

waiting a few moments, you glance over at his table again

he has several textbooks and his laptop out, promptly putting his airpods in his ears and beginning his homework

you just write him off as any other student that comes in here at night, the only difference with him is that he doesn’t order a coffee with an unhealthy amount of espresso shots in it

you don’t mind him, but it is a bit worrying when he spends the whole night switching between laying his head down on the table and softly thumping it against the wood, and staring blankly between his laptop and textbook

when he leaves that night at 3am, you send a silent wish after him that whatever he was studying for goes in his favor 

but surprisingly, he shows up the next night as well

it’s saturday night, the evening rush ended a while ago, and the mysterious guy is once again sitting in his spot at the back corner of the cafe

he looks even more frazzled than the night before, yet he doesn’t order anything and continues to diligently work throughout the whole night

this goes on for weeks, and you begin to worry for this poor boy’s sleep schedule

but even more so, you’re curious about who he is, since he never orders anything and always has a hood or a hat on

one night, your curiosity is quenched

“who’s that?” taeil asks you; he’s normally not at the store this late, but forgot to complete taking inventory this morning and came back tonight to finish it up

he nods his head towards your mystery guy, who has slumped over his textbooks and looks to be peacefully sleeping on the table

“not sure. he always comes in and studies for almost the whole night, never orders anything, though.” you shrug at your boss and he frowns

“go give him a mocha, or something. on the house- he looks like he needs to wake up.” taeil turns back to his clipboard and you nod

carrying over a hot mocha to the intriguing character in the corner of the cafe, your heart thumps in suspense

you’ll finally be able to learn who the mystery man is, something you’ve been wondering since day one

you set the mocha down on the table carefully and sit across from him, shaking his arm to wake him up

the guy jerks out of his sleep, a flashcard sticking to his face as he looks around the cafe with lidded eyes

“sorry!” you grimace, holding out your hands in front of you “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to wake you up. my boss told me to give you this mocha on the house, and to make sure you’re okay.” the guy unsticks the flashcard from his face, and your mouth drops when you realize who the mystery man is

“lee jeno?” you ask, and his sleepy eyes widen when you recognize him

“...no? I think you have me mistaken for someone else...” he clears his throat, looking around the cafe to see if anyone has their attention turned to you two

you would believe him, if he isn’t the most well known face on campus

he’s not only the college’s basketball star who has his face plastered on every basketball-related event at the school and is dating the head cheerleader, but also the guy who sits a few rows in front of you in your calculus class

“I'm 90% sure you’re lee jeno.” you state, and he seems too tired to argue with you about his identity

“okay, yes, that’s me. can you please not tell anyone that I'm here.”

“tell what? that you, a college student, studies?” you tilt your head and cross your arms as you wait for his response

“yeah,” he becomes shy, playing with his airpods that fell out of his ears during his nap, “to be honest, I'm in a calculus class this semester and I don’t understand one bit of it. that’s why I'm here every weekend night.” he explains, not meeting your gaze yet

all of a sudden, it hits you-

he doesn’t know who you are

although your calculus class has almost 100 people in it, you would think he would’ve at least seen you walking past him every monday, wednesday, and friday to your seat behind him

but you’re not surprised that he’s struggling or that he hasn’t noticed you, since you always see him talking with his basketball friends instead of paying attention 

“I can tutor you.” you shrug, and he raises his eyebrows, finally making eye contact, “I work every weekend night, and I took that class last semester.”

you don’t feel guilty about lying

if jeno doesn’t recognize you, then maybe it should stay that way

what he doesn't know won’t hurt thim

“wouldn’t that keep you away from your job...” 

“it calms down after midnight around here, and I usually get bored during that time. what do you say?”

he agrees, and pretty soon you’re tutoring basketball star lee jeno

you thought that keeping your identity secret when you walk into class would be difficult, but jeno is always too busy fooling around with his friends before class starts that it’s easy to sneak past him

jeno comes in after midnight on weekends, you tutor him for about an hour (or until he understands the homework) and then he leaves to get some precious sleep 

jeno might be forever thankful for you

the way you explain things makes sense to him, much more sense than any office hours or ta hours that he has been to

it’s a win-win situation for you both: you can count these hours every night as “volunteer work” and jeno soon comes back to the cafe with his midterm exam, a solid B+ labeled across the top

“good job,” you chime when you see his grade from his phone

a text message notification pops up, and although you don’t read it, you definitely saw the word “party”

“maybe we can skip the study session tonight? you’ve been doing much better lately, and it’s friday night. I bet you want to get out and go to a party, or something.” you suggest, giving jeno a perfect excuse to leave you for the night and join his friends

“nah,” jeno shrugs as he takes back his phone, “I'd much rather hang out with you.”

your heart thuds at his words and you try your hardest to control your facial expression- to somehow bite back the heat threatening to rise to your cheeks

it’s been like this for the past few weeks, ever since you saw this new side to jeno

before tutoring him, he was only the basketball player who loudly fooled around with his friends before class and seemed like he didn’t care about anything else other than basketball

but since you started to get to know him, it’s safe to say you severely misjudged him

he’s probably the most boyish guy you’ve ever met, who cracks jokes that most would cringe at but have you clutching your stomach and wheezing with laughter 

the more time he spent around you, the more comfortable he became, and the more he could tell you his feelings

like how nervous he was for the exam or how scared he was for last week’s game

or how he’s determined to drink the mocha you make him every time he comes to the cafe, as an apology for all the nights he hogged a table and didn’t buy anything

he snuck into your heart, through the spaces between your ribs and planted himself there, unwilling to leave

but you know your feelings aren’t acceptable

he has a girlfriend, a very pretty and popular one that you’re almost sure he won’t leave for little old you

“seriously,” jeno notices your change in tone, “you can go out. you don’t have to stay here.”

“I'm being serious, too. let’s start on the next chapter, since you took this class last semester you’ll know how to do the equations for the next part, right?” jeno is already pulling out his textbook and his papers, determined to start working

your heart races, now for a different reason

although you’re good at calculus, you’re not that good to understand the next chapter yet

“uh...” you trail off, trying to find an excuse, “why do you even want to do math homework right now?” you ask, and jeno suddenly gets quiet

“it’s not really about math anymore, it’s about the person who’s teaching it to me...” he mumbles, but you hear him clearly

your heart is in your throat and your hands clam up from nerves

this is wrong

he has a girlfriend

his life is very different and separate from yours

this is so wrong

“we can’t.” you shake your head, and jeno’s nervous glances at you turns into a heartsick and longing look, “I- I actually haven’t taken this class. I'm taking it... right now.” you admit, the weight on your shoulders being lifted

“what?” he frowns

he doesn’t look good with a frown, his round glasses move with his face

he looks more like a confused puppy than the killer basketball player everyone knows and loves

“I'm in your class, jeno. I sit three rows behind you. I walk past you everyday to my seat.” you roll your eyes lightly

jeno just keeps getting more and more confused with every sentence

“how? how did I not notice you-”

“because you’re too busy messing around with your bros.” you roll your eyes harder this time, but when your gaze lands back on jeno, you immediately start to regret the forcefulness of your words

he looks hurt, and now angry

“so, you lied to me?” jeno looks as if the gears in his brain are running at full capacity, “what did you want from me then? some tickets to the game, maybe my phone number to sell online?” he spits out, embarrassment from you not returning his feelings fueling his harsh words

“do I look like I would do that? you know I'm not that kind of person.”

“forget it. maybe I will go to that party...” he trails off as he packs up his bag

“you act different with your friends than you do with me. you’re just trying to fit into a mold. I called you out on it and you’re mad about it.”

“no. I act different with you because I like you. liked.” he corrects himself, standing up out of the booth

your heart pinches with hurt at his words

there’s nothing like the bitterness of being so close to what you wanted, and then taking 10 steps back because you weren’t aware of how close you were to getting it

“you forgot your drink.” you say bitterly, intent on having the last word

he tucks his airpods into his ears and fixes his hood, “I hate mochas.”

the next night, the basketball team loses their first game of the season

it’s hard not to hear about it, considering the basketball team (and lee jeno) are the pride of the college

but a few more nights pass, and the team loses another game

and then they lose again, keeping them from going to regionals 

even taeyong and taeil talk about it, and you couldn’t look away when they showed you the viral video of jeno’s cheerleader girlfriend breaking up with him in the middle of the court after the last game

although you haven’t talked to him since the fight, you still felt sorry for him

you felt bad, and a bit guilty

jeno hasn’t shown up to calculus since the loss, and his seat is eventually taken by one of his ex-friends 

within a month, jeno turned from the campus’ golden boy to a nobody

and it didn’t matter to you

you haven’t physically seen him since the fight, making you worried about him

is he okay? physically and mentally? is he eating or sleeping? 

part of you hates that you still have feelings for him, and the other part doesn’t care 

you just want to know if he’s okay

and then one very early saturday morning, he walks into the cafe for the very first time since you fought 

the jingle of the bells above him comfort him, they chime a good luck to him as he steps up to the counter where you’re ducked down into the pastry display case 

“I'll be with you in one moment.” you say, tired dripping from your tone, and jeno realizes you’re in the last hour of your shift

“it’s no problem.” your rustling stops at the familiar voice, and your head pops up from behind the counter

lee jeno stands in front of you, his hoodie and baseball hat on, round glasses perched on his nose and his fringe tickling his eyes

“jeno.” you say, as if making sure it’s actually him and that he’s really here

“no, I think you might’ve mistaken me for someone else.” you and jeno both can’t help but let out a small laugh as you unexpectedly reenact the first time you met

“what are you doing here?” you ask, fully standing up and meeting him at the cash register

“well, I was hoping to get a mocha.” 

“I thought you hate mochas.” jeno stares at you and you stare back, unwilling to move until he says something first

jeno reaches out over the cash register, his strong but gentle fingers grazing over your forehead to fix some hair that was out of place due to your movements during restocking

you subconsciously lean into his touch, and jeno brings his hand down into yours, pulling you away from the cash register and sitting down in a chair at the counter

his hands hold yours over the counter, and the fact that you haven’t pulled away gives him hope that he’s not too late

“I grew to love them because of you. I've been craving them for the past month,” he laughs sourly, “but no one makes them the way you do.”

your heart trembles at his words, and it takes everything in you to not forgive him in an instant

“I'll make you one.” you say, untangling your hands from his and moving to the espresso machine 

jeno watches as you make his new favorite drink, and then place it before him as you sit down in a chair next to him

“I’m sorry.” is the first thing he says after you face him once again, “you were right. I was trying to fit into the mold of what the people around me wanted. the only time I could actually be myself is when I'm around you.” 

“I'm sorry, too. this isn’t all your fault, I shouldn’t have lied to you.” jeno scoots closer, tiredness tying you together and the moonlight from outside allowing you to enjoy the company of each other

“my calculus grade is low again. I might need your big brain to help me.”

“okay, but I'll need payment this time.”

“how much?”

“one kiss.”

“one kiss for every correct problem on the final exam?”

“deal.”

jeno smiles softly, his eyes scrunching as smile lines crease his face like tangled bedsheets in the early morning

he leans in, and you kiss with only the moonlight as a witness

jeno loves the way your mouth tastes like the bitter espresso that keeps him awake, but your lips are as sweet as the mocha that he has grown to love

[dinosaurtsukki]

wherefore art thou, romeo? | an osamu x f!reader one-shot

pairing: osamu miya x f!reader

word count: 6.1k words

contains: a boatload of crack, fluff if you squint, high school setting, more bickering than working on the actual play, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, brief mentions of the romeo and juliet with leonardo di caprio in it

summary: being best friends with the miya twins for years has prepared you for all of their shenanigans but even you’re taken by surprise when osamu, the guy you’ve been in love with for years, nominates you to play juliet for the class play and atsumu to play romeo

a/n: *squints at word count* okay this was supposed to be released in three chapters but i ended up writing all of it in one go and i didn’t know exactly where to separate the chapters so here it goes 

the day started out fairly normal, if fairly normal meant that your two best friends were using your ruler to divide a candy bar accurately into two during homeroom while waiting for the teacher, could be called ‘fairly normal.’ but when those two friends were the miya twins, that’s how normal things got. the teacher arrived a bit later, announcing some reminders about the cultural festival dates, before the time was handed over to the Class President, a guy with glasses and straight black hair that you and your friends just called ‘Mr. President.’

“for the cultural festival, our class, due to majority votes, has decided to put on the play: ‘Romeo and Juliet,’“ Mr. President announced. judging from his cheeky smile, you could tell that he may have had a hand in those ‘majority votes.’ 

“aw, yuck. don’t tell me ya voted for that, y/n,” atsumu nudged you from behind your desk.

“why are you assuming its me?” you grumbled, batting his hand away.

“aw, no crepe cafe then,” osamu said sullenly beside you. your gaze was pulled to him, as it always was. now that the spring inter-high was over, osamu was mostly in his school uniform, not that you minded. his silver hair, that he got in trouble with the principal for, was pushed haphazardly to the side and gleamed in the sunlight.

“now,” Mr. President continued. “what we have to decide on right now is who gets which acting roles and who gets to do the technical jobs.”

“painting sets? painting sets?” atsumu poked you and osamu. 

“hmm, i’d kind of like to work on the lights,” you hummed, already imagining yourself scrolling through your phone and switching on the spotlight once every few minutes. osamu was quiet and you knew he was probably thinking of painting sets too.

“now, is there anyone who’d like to volunteer for playing romeo?” Mr. President asked, surveying the class. “you can also nominate people and--”

osamu abruptly raised his hand up. your eyes widened, wondering if he was going to volunteer. atsumu had the same concern.

“whoa, whoa. don’t tell me yer thinkin’ of playing romeo?” atsumu laughed incredulously.

but that isn’t what osamu did. in full Dramatic Flair, osamu miya pointed at his twin and announced “i nominate miya atsumu to play romeo.”

the laughter in atsumu’s voice died as quickly as the class erupted into murmurs. based on the snatches of conversation you heard, atsumu was going to be wielding a sword and probably wearing tights.

“okay, that’s one nomination for atsumu to play romeo,” Mr. President nodded, writing atsumu’s name on the board. you stifled a giggle as you heard atsumu stand up in his seat behind you.

“wait! wait! i nominate ‘samu to play romeo!” atsumu exclaimed hurriedly. the reaction wasn’t as loud as before and osamu flashed his twin a smug grin. 

“i’ll make sure to get a nice, bright spotlight on you,” you smiled cheekily at him.

“so, we have atsumu-san nominated to play romeo and--”

“i’m not done,” osamu interrupted. “i also nominate y/n to play juliet.” 

if atsumu reacted at a snail’s pace, yours was quite similar to how ketchup fell out of a bottle: none at first, before coming out all at once. within that length of time you spent staring into the void, Mr. President already wrote down your name on the blackboard and proceeded with the rest of the nominations (there weren’t any). the class voted, and you just barely felt someone pat you on the back to congratulate you for the role.

it was right when the decision over the roles was over when you turned slowly towards osamu, who had the audacity to flash a peace sign at you, and whisper ‘what have you done?’

...

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YA NOMINATED US TO PLAY ROMEO AND JULIET!” you and atsumu practically screamed at osamu during lunch break and for the rest of the day until you got to the miya twins’ house, where you spent most of your time, and cracked open the script that Mr. President handed out.

“sheesh, that was hours ago. get over it already,” osamu said, not looking up from the book he was reading: Beginner Techniques in Set Design. you didn’t even think he was reading, just mocking you and atsumu about the fact that he got the awesome job of painting sets. 

“it was hours ago but atsumu and i are stuck with rehearsals for weeks!” you complained.

“not only that, but we’d have ta read shit and memorize shit,” atsumu seethed. “and we know that y/n sucks at that!” 

“hey! i bet i could do better than you!” 

“i don’t think ya can!” 

osamu watched the battle from the top of his book, smiling to himself as you and atsumu quickly got into one of your fights that distracted you from the main reason behind the fight: osamu himself. ‘they’re still just like kids,’ he thought, watching you proceed to trap atsumu in a headlock. 

the three of you had been the best of friends since grade school when you pushed atsumu off a jungle gym and osamu laughed and high-fived you. it was when the three of you were eating breakfast after a sleepover in your first year of high school, when you said that atsumu only had two brain cells and that ‘one was a skater boy, the other said see you later boy’ and osamu laughed so hard he got milk coming out of his house, that he realized he just might be in love with you. 

“so, why didn’t you nominate yourself to play romeo?” suna asked him the next day while they were in the middle of stapling felt stars on a piece of dark blue fabric. like osamu, he was also lucky enough to be put in set design. “i mean, if you like her so much.” 

“because i don’t want to play romeo,” osamu said as-a-matter-of-factly. “and i think making ‘tsumu do it is hilarious.”

“you really do have a one-track mind,” suna hummed and turned around to where atsumu and y/n were already busy working on the scene where romeo and juliet meet.

“ugh i have to kiss her hand?” 

“well, do you want to kiss my foot?” 

“i’d rather kick ya in the face!” 

“you know, i feel like this on its own would make a great play,” suna said, watching the scene. 

“a romeo and juliet where the lovers actually hate each other but their opposing families desperately want to push them into an arranged marriage. sounds pretty neat,” osamu mused.

“okay, why don’t you two take a break, collect yourselves, and then we’ll come back in ten,” Mr. President sighed. at that, you and atsumu quickly stopped quarreling and stalked off in different directions. you headed straight for osamu and suna.

“sometimes i can’t tell who’s the more insufferable one between you two,” you narrowed your eyes at osamu who had the audacity (the only thing he never seemed to run out of) to smile innocently.

“it’s one of life’s greatest mysteries. like, whether the chicken or the egg came first,” suna added. 

“just give it a few weeks. atsumu will soon embrace his fate and you’ll be an amazing juliet,” osamu patted the top of your head. if you weren’t so annoyed with him you would have felt the butterflies in your stomach. except now you just wanted to bite his hand off.

“you know what, i’m going to kita’s later,” you muttered, pulling your phone out to text kita shinsuke, aka your adoptive mother. 

“hmm? why?” osamu asked.

“because he’s the only sane person i know. plus he’ll help me out with my lines,” you explained, sighing with relief when you got a prompt reply from kita.

“oh, well i was planning to buy some convenience store snacks that i saw on sale for when i do homework later,” osamu said, trying not to sound disappointed.

“maybe next time,” you smiled apologetically. “but in the meantime, maybe get your twin over there to memorize his and not fuck up.” osamu looked up at his brother who was holding the script up a few inches from his face.

“you’re right,” osamu agreed. “but, it would also be funny to edit out a few words here and there.” you returned his cheeky grin.

“you read my mind.”

...

“kitaaa what if it means something that osamu chose to make me and atsumu romeo and juliet,” you groaned, face planted on the coffee table in kita’s living room while he peeled tangerines. “like, what if he realized i actually liked him for this long and this is his way of friend-zoning me?”

“osamu’s the kind of person who’d tell you right away if he doesn’t have the same feelings for you,” kita shook his head.

“that means he’s going to reject me soon!” you sat up, planting your hands on the table.”

“y/n, you’re doing it again,” kita gently reminded. “think of it this way, maybe he nominated you to play juliet because he wants to see you as juliet. but he’s not fully ready for the commitment so he nominated atsumu to be romeo.”

“or he just wants to mess with us, which is probably the case,” you chuckled half-heartedly. “maybe i’ll just believe that.”

“or, think of it this way,” kita placed a peeled tangerine into your hand, like the mom friend that he was. “you could use the opportunity to be the best juliet ever, someone that osamu can barely tear his eyes away from.”

“and i can show up atsumu at the same time!” you grinned at the idea. kita sighed.

“you know, i feel like your sheer desire to just beat atsumu at everything may be a hindrance but go on.” 

“yeah, yeah, you lost me at ‘beat atsumu at everything’,” you sang as you cracked open your script. “now help me. i have to memorize all this by tomorrow.” 

...

“i think yer all wondering why i’ve gathered ya here today,” atsumu began.

“we’re... in the volleyball clubroom,” aran spoke slowly.

“which is where we always hang out,” suna added. atsumu raised an eyebrow and a hand to silence them, which sometimes worked.

“i’ve gathered ya guys to form the all-important, top-secret team with only one goal in mind!” atsumu paused for dramatic effect, which suna purposely ruined by coughing. “we’re gonna to get myself out of playing romeo for the class play.” 

“let me guess, whatever it takes?” aran asked, his arms folded.

“whatever it takes!”

and atsumu took that completely seriously. the next day, he gathered aran and suna to the clubroom again to execute his master plan, version 1: operation casting call.

“get it? cause, ya know, i’m part of a cast, and i’ll be showing up in a cast,” atsumu grinned proudly, showing off the roll of bandages that he bought yesterday at a drugstore. 

“okay, first of all: lame pun,” aran sighed. “secondly, that’s not a cast you’re just wrapping your foot in bandages and not encasing it in plaster which i think was what you were originally going for. lastly, do you realize just how many holes your plan has?”

“oh yeah? like what?” atsumu crossed his arms and scoffed.

“like the fact that your twin brother would know whether or not you were injured yesterday,” suna brought up.

“...i’ll jus’ say that i sprained my ankle jus’ now,” atsumu said.

“as if he’s going to believe you,” suna snorted.

“i’m just saying, please ditch this plan before you embarrass yourself,” aran sighed. atsumu felt his face heat up with embarrassment.

“sh-shut up! this plan is gonna work and i’m not gonna play fuckin’ romeo for another day!” atsumu snapped. “now help bind my foot.” 

aran and suna looked at each other. “you’re taking a video of what’s happening later,” aran said while suna nodded.

“i hate ya guys,” atsumu crossed his arms. 

a few minutes later, his foot was all wrapped up thanks to aran and atsumu was propped up on suna as he hobbled into the classroom. with full dramatic flair that he never seemed to run out of, atsumu slid open the door to the classroom.

“Mr. President! sorry to say this but i sprained my ankle!” he cried. everyone inside turned to look at him with you raising an eyebrow at the dubious looking ‘sprained ankle.’ 

“you know, if you spoke like that all the time you’d make a great romeo,” his twin quickly piped up from near the door where he was busy painting a tree.

“shut up ‘samu, ya traitor,” atsumu muttered at him. Mr. President had walked closer and inspected the bound foot.

“osamu, is this true?” he asked.

“w-wha? don’t ya believe me?” atsumu splattered. beside him, suna had already brought out his phone. mad, atsumu pushed himself off his ‘friend’ and tapped his ‘sprained’ foot on the ground. ‘it hurts! see! ow!” atsumu lied.

quick as a flash, osamu kicked atsumu’s good foot, causing him to hop on his ‘sprained’ foot. 

“fuck! ‘samu!” he yelled. 

“well, i guess there’s nothing to worry about,” Mr. President smiled and clapped his hands together. “and atsumu-san, that was a good attempt at acting. i hope you channel that passion into rehearsal today.” 

atsumu could do nothing else but mumble. “yeah, fine...”

...

“i can’t believe atsumu even thought that his plan would work,” you laughed, recounting the events of earlier that day. you were sprawled across the wooden floor backstage the theater your class was going to use for the cultural festival. osamu was right beside you, painting one of the backdrops for the play. 

“i really do think all the brainpower went to me sometimes,” osamu mused as he carefully painted the sky around the white clouds. there was a look of pure concentration on his face that made you think that maybe osamu was quite excited to do the set design for the play. ‘it’s always the things that you don’t really expect him to get into,’ you wondered as you watched him. 

“hey, is this shade of blue a bit too... blue?” he asked, holding the paintbrush to you. you scooted over next to him, grateful for the excuse to be nearer osamu. 

“it could use a bit more white to look more like the sky,” you answered.

“hmm, can you pass me that can of white from over there?” 

“sure, let me just-- hey!”

a splatter of blue paint landed on your nose as osamu swiped his paint brush over it. once again, he had the audacity to snicker as you grabbed the paint brush from him to splatter blue paint over his hair.

“you are so dead, miya osamu,” you narrowed your eyes and grinned at him as you picked up the tube of red paint from beside your knees.

“wait, wait y/n,” osamu laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “that’s red paint right there.” 

“you didn’t seem to have a problem with brushing light blue paint on my nose!” you exclaimed pointing at your face. 

“well, it is a bit of a good look because it brings out your eyes--” he was cut off by you squirting red paint right at his face. slowly, osamu raised a hand to touch the paint on his cheek. “you know, i kind of deserve that.” 

“you definitely do,” you stared down at him with both hands on your hips before bursting out laughing. osamu blinked up at you before joining in the laughter. even with your blue nose, you still looked absolutely radiant. just like how you were earlier during rehearsals as you did your best performance of juliet. you captured everyone’s attention and even atsumu actually made an effort to get to your level.

“come on,” osamu chuckled, standing up and ruffling your hair with the hand that still had red paint on it. “let’s go wash up.” 

the feeling of him ruffling your hair was such an old and familiar gesture that you couldn’t even remember when osamu started doing that. but you could clearly remember everything else you did when you were kids. watching cartoons and mixing different kinds of cereal in the morning, trying to climb up the drainpipes into each other’s rooms, the endless cycle of calling each other names, crying from too much teasing, and saying sorry only to forget two minutes later. 

you watched, head cocked to the side as osamu washed the paint from his face while you dried your hair. he didn’t realize just how much soap he was getting in his eyes and the cute, childishness of it made you giggle.

“what?” osamu looked, or rather, turned his head to you.

“your eyes are going to burn at this rate,” you snickered, stepping over to him and placing your hands under the faucet before gently washing the soap from osamu’s face. you didn’t even realize what you were doing until you were doing it and by then, it was too late. osamu didn’t seem to mind, not even when you used the towel around his neck to pat his face dry.

“there, now you just have a big red stain on your nose,” you laughed nervously as osamu opened his eyes.

“at least it goes with my hair,” osamu snickered, tossing his towel over your head before ruffling it. you felt your face heat up and smiled awkwardly at him in response.

“is this your idea of trying to dry my hair?”

“i think it’s kind of working.”

“it’s not working,” you laughed, taking the towel from him. “but thanks.” you felt your throat tighten with the words you wanted but were too afraid to say. you didn’t know when you started falling for one of your best friends and maybe it was thanks to all the shoujo manga you’ve read for years, but you knew that the best friend and the main character rarely ever got together. 

luckily, it was osamu who said something. “you know, you were pretty good earlier as juliet. i bet ‘tsumu was threatened,” he laughed, lifting his bag and starting to walk towards the school exit. you jogged to catch up to him. 

“no thanks to you though,” you snorted. 

“hey, it’s all for the sake of making memories,” 

“we could have made memories while painting sets,” you huffed. “you know, like more paint fights.” osamu flashed a sideways smile at you.

“we’d have those regardless. i wanted to see you as juliet.” 

you could feel your heart beating loudly in your ears as you forced yourself to think of a million other reasons as to why osamu would say that, only to focus on the single, most probable one that could mean everything you’ve ever dreamed of coming true. “osamu, i--” 

“i can’t believe ya left me!” atsumu exclaimed loudly behind you two, causing you to jump. you turned around just as he slung his arms around both of you and his twin.

“i can’t believe you thought pretending to sprain your ankle would work,” osamu muttered, looking slightly annoyed at his twin.

“shut up! i can’t believe ya’d break my cover! my own brother!”

“i think you two are way past that already,” you snickered, slightly annoyed at atsumu’s sudden appearance but unable to admit that you didn’t miss having him around either.

‘if i never get to confess to osamu, i’ll still have this,’ you thought, with a satisfied smile on your face.

...

“no offense, atsumu, but i think you should just move on from the fact that your plan to get yourself out of playing romeo just isn’t going to work,” suna said, lounging across his friend’s bed and uploading the video he took of atsumu’s ‘master plan’ failing. “just accept your fate, like what romeo did.” atsumu stopped pacing and regarded suna with a raised eyebrow.

“ya read the play?” 

“i read the summary,” suna answered. “at this rate, everyone knows you’re going to be faking some accident.” atsumu made no response and suna realized he needed just one more push. “also, you’re basically losing to y/n.” 

that got atsumu’s attention. “since when did she wanna be juliet anyway?” he muttered. 

just then, the door to their room flew open and in walked a very excited aran carrying a relic from the past, an actual DVD in its case, and a bag from the convenience store.

“yer late,” atsumu scowled at him. 

“yeah, and you didn’t listen to what i said and looked really dumb earlier,” aran said, much to atsumu’s embarrassment. “anyway, i think i have a solution to your woes,” he grinned, presenting the DVD to the two of them.

“what the fuck am i gonna do with movie ‘romeo and juliet?’“ atsumu frowned.

“it’s not just any romeo and juliet movie, it’s the romeo and juliet movie!” aran said enthusiastically. “starring leonardo di caprio!” 

“who now?”

“he’s the guy who didn’t win an oscar for years until the bear movie,” suna explained.

“ooooohhh.” 

“you uncultured shits,” aran sighed. “anyway, atsumu, just accept your fate--” 

“that’s what i’ve been trying to tell him!” 

“... and open your eyes to how awesome it is to play romeo!” aran finished. atsumu looked from the DVD in his friend’s hands, to suna on his bed, and to the bag of convenience store snacks, before sighing and nodding.

“if i decide it’s shit ten minutes in, we’re dropping the movie and yer all gonna tell me i’m right.” 

but he was wrong, oh so wrong. 

just like every middle-aged mom or english literature university student who watched Romeo + Juliet, atsumu was pulled in by leonardo di caprio’s sincere, expressive eyes. he practically swooned at the scene where romeo and juliet met from different sides of the fish tank to that iconic pool kiss, and by the end of the movie, atsumu almost teared up. he tried to hold back his emotions, in the hopes of not looking lame in front of his friends, only to find aran practically sobbing and suna clutching his knees to his chest.

“that was... really fucking beautiful,” atsumu cursed as the credits rolled.

“do you understand now? what it means to play romeo?” aran put a hand on his shoulder.

“do it for leo di caprio, atsumu,” suna added. atsumu sniffed and nodded his head eagerly.

“i will, i’ll do it for leo.”

...

it was a normal day at school, if normal meant you were wearing a blanket wrapped around your waist to make you ‘feel as if you were in costume’ and mixing vending machine coffee and vending machine chocolate milk in styrofoam cups with your best friend who also happened to be the guy you were in love with. that was as normal as thing got when you were best friends with the miya twins.

and that only meant that seeing atsumu come in for rehearsals, with a determined spark in his eyes, and recite every line to utter perfection that you knew william shakespeare himself would be proud of, was just pushing the boundaries of ‘normal.’

that only meant you had to be on your A-game too and before you knew it, you and atsumu had put on your best performance yet. your undying competitiveness and atsumu’s devotion to leonardo di caprio had gone a long way. all throughout that, osamu had a ‘cat-who-just-ate-the-canary’ smile on his face as he watched from the props area.

“you look like you’re going to say ‘all according to keikaku’ at any time,” suna observed. 

“oh, i am saying it in my head,” osamu said, watching you and atsumu onstage. he had hoped for two outcomes: either you were both comically terrible at the play, or that you were slightly mediocre. but a part in his mind knew you would find a way to surprise him. you always did, after all.

yours and atsumu’s performance got everybody in class even more motivated about the play. osamu ended up in a million meetings with the fellow set designers, even learning how to paint trees to look as life-like as possible. although being busy wasn’t enough to distract him from looking at you, especially when dress rehearsals began and you were wearing the most stunning dress that the costume department worked on. meanwhile, atsumu pretty much rehearsed, ate, and slept with his prop sword. 

finally, the big day of the cultural festival came around. despite the fact that you utterly loathed having to play juliet at first, you couldn’t help but feel proud at how far you’ve come. 

“hey, maybe i should just go to acting school or something,” you joked, sitting beside osamu and smoothing your dress over your legs which dangled over the side of the stage.

“you’ll run home crying after you hear any sort of criticism,” osamu snorted.

“mean! i deal with criticism really well!” you pouted. osamu raised an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes. “you know i was joking. the fact that i haven’t received any acceptance letters from the universities i applied to is kind of making me crazy.” 

“so, is the fact that you’re playing a fourteen year-old girl who has to hide her love from her entire family before later killing herself a good way of escaping?” osamu asked.

“yeah, that and watching atsumu’s surprising transformation,” you snickered, turning around to watch atsumu and suna horsing around onstage. or rather, it was just suna from one end of the stage tossing chocolate chips at atsumu who was attempting to catch them with his mouth. 

“i asked suna and aran about what changed but their lips are tightly sealed,” osamu shrugged. “i like to think that he hit his head somewhere.” 

“well, he’s going to hit his head some time during the day at the rate he’s going right now,” you said, watching atsumu laugh and choke at the chocolate in his mouth. it was funny at first, until you noticed that atsumu kept on coughing.

“osamu,” you quickly tapped his twin. osamu turned around and immediately rushed over to his brother who was now turning a bright shade of red. 

“oh my god, were there peanuts in that chocolate?” you asked. atsumu let out a gasp and nodded his head.

“i’ll go get his meds,” osamu quickly jogged off only to be replaced by a very concerned Mr. President. “someone get him some water!” 

“i never thought atsumu-san was allergic to nuts. is it serious?” he asked, handing you his water bottle which you opened and quickly gave to atsumu who was now sitting down on the floor.

“well, it’s mostly rashes and an itchy throat but as long as he takes his medicine, he’ll be fine,” you shook your head. 

two allergy tablets, an apology from suna, and a long explanation later, atsumu was lying down in the nurse’s office with the swelling noticeably reduced. “unfortunately, he’d have to sit out the rest of the play so that the reaction completely subsides,” the nurse told you, osamu, and Mr. President. you sighed and regarded atsumu with hands on your hips.

“you thought they were chocolate-covered raisins, didn’t you?”

atsumu didn’t say anything except: “i’m sorry leo di caprio.”

“this is the absolute worst time for this to happen,” Mr. President sighed as he addressed your classmates backstage. “there’s only thirty minutes before showtime and our romeo is out of commission. anyone have any bright ideas?”

“does anyone else here vaguely know atsumu’s lines?” you asked around. “someone who read the script?” instead, you were met with silence. as much as you wanted for some miracle to happen and for the show to go on because you genuinely did want to play juliet, putting up a half-assed play with one of the two main characters gone wasn’t going to look good either.

you sucked in a deep breath, preparing yourself to make the call, but osamu, who had noticed your expression earlier, stepped forward. you looked at him with wide eyes and just caught him glance at you before addressing mr. president.

“i can step in for romeo.” 

“osamu...?” you asked. 

“i haven’t really read the script but i’ve heard atsumu rehearsing by himself often enough to pick up a few lines,” osamu rubbed the back of his head, already feeling nervous. 

“also, twin-sense,” suna piped up. “you know, your psychic connection between twins?”

osamu nodded his head slowly. “yes, that too.”

“alright, alright,” mr. president nodded his head. “well, i guess that’s better than nothing and osamu can fit into atsumu’s costume too. if you can, use these thirty minutes to read as much of the script as possible.” 

“got it,” osamu nodded. and with that, everyone resumed preparations and you were pulled into the dressing room to get your hair and make-up done. when you emerged, osamu was sitting on the floor against the far side of the backstage, bent over a copy of the script and muttering in concentration.

“hey,” you greeted, sitting down beside him. he was already dressed in his costume: a white, long-sleeved shirt with golden buttons and some tassels on the shoulders. his hair was also combed back with a few strands falling across his forehead.

“god, i can’t believe atsumu memorized all this shit,” osamu shook his head and looked up at you only to stop short. he had seen you about a million times in your juliet costume but with the make-up and your hair arranged so elegantly, you looked absolutely breath-taking.

“something wrong?”

“i... i’m just panicking about having to play romeo all of a sudden,” he blinked.

“i know. scary, isn’t it?” you nodded. “i... you didn’t have to though. i’m pretty sure everyone was ready to throw in the towel.” 

“and waste all my hard work painting sets?” osamu raised an eyebrow at you. “no way.” you tossed your head back and laughed.

“well, if you put it that way...” you nodded and smiled bravely. “the show will be fine. if you forget a line, just improvise. the most important thing is channeling the emotion.” 

“i think i can do that,” osamu smiled and reached a hand out to you. “to the best show ever?”

you grinned and shook his hand. “to the best show ever.”

...

the show was a complete disaster. as much as osamu did try to recite atsumu’s lines completely from memory, it was as if everyone was thrown off their game throughout the entire play. cues for special effects were forgotten (someone accidentally turned on a smoke machine during the first scene), props were misplaced (the actor for Tybalt was using a footlong hotdog against osamu’s prop sword), and there were more than a few times when someone missed their lines. at one point, you ended up reciting Team Rocket’s iconic spiel after the line ‘a rose by any other name is just as sweet.’ but, despite everything being a shitshow, it still ended up being overall entertaining. the audience laughed through most of the obvious fails and that caused the actors to loosen up just a bit. 

and it was osamu who ended up spearheading the comedic aspect of your ‘romeo and juliet’ play. from his dry, deadpan delivery of the very emotional lines, to his small inserts and side-comments about the play itself. you even had to stop yourself from laughing at times. but if you and atsumu were amazing at playing the scripted ‘romeo and juliet’, you and osamu were complete naturals when it came to improvising. 

“i don’t know if this is a success by conventional definitions,” Mr. President addressed everyone backstage as soon as the play was over. “but... we sure did make everyone out there laugh.” 

“and i consider that a win!” atsumu cheered beside you. he was looking much better, still with a bit of rashes though and his voice kind of heavy from the medicine. “kind of sad that i didn’t get to play romeo though,” he whispered at you.

“that’s alright. i channeled you in spirit,” osamu patted his twin’s shoulder.

“like hell ya did! i couldn’t believe ya used the dagger to kill yerself at the end,” atsumu argued.

“right?? i had to be all ‘oh romeo, you must have forgotten to use the poison you brought in your pocket!’” you recalled.

“i see dagger, i use dagger,” osamu reasoned. “wait, that’s ‘Macbeth’ isn’t it?”

“in a nutshell,” you shrugged.

“ugh, i’ve had enough of nuts for a day, don’t even mention it,” atsumu groaned, pushing away from the two of you and wandering off to the snack table that your classmates prepared.

“damn, i had more puns up my sleeve,” you sighed, watching him leave. 

“you’ll find a time to use them, don’t worry,” osamu reassured you. “in the meantime... do you want to, get out of here first? explore the rest of the cultural festival?” you felt your face flush but nodded nonetheless.

“i’m sure no one will notice the main characters of their cast go missing,” you grinned. “let’s get out of here, romeo.” 

when osamu meant ‘let’s check out the cultural festival’, he really meant buying a bunch of snacks from the stalls set up all around the school. but then again, that’s what he did all the time. soon enough, the two of you were sitting on the rooftop with your prized horde. 

“thank god i don’t have some weirdass nut allergy like tsumu. that’s definitely evidence that i got the stronger genes,” osamu said, biting into a crepe he just bought. “also the fact that he didn’t check that chocolate-covered nuts packet.” 

“i still feel sorry for him. he worked really hard to play romeo well,” you sighed. 

“hey, i tried to play my part seriously. well... sometimes.” 

“you did nail the whole ‘yearning for my love juliet’ part right,” you grinned, remembering the surprise at seeing the tenderness and longing on osamu’s face as he recited romeo’s lines about being in love with juliet. ‘well, that’s something for me to daydream about for the rest of my life you,’ you thought.

that was until osamu said “well, it’s good practice for when i actually confess to someone.” 

confess to someone.

‘does that mean, all this time? he’s liked someone?’ you felt your stomach drop. you’ve never known osamu to be expressive when it came to people he had feelings for. were you just ignoring all the signs? was--

“it’s you, idiot,” osamu sighed. 

“wait, what?” you looked at him with wide eyes. osamu sighed again and ran a hand through his hair.

“you know, i was thinking of a more suave way to say this but you looked like how you did earlier when you were supposed to be engaged to tybalt,” he chuckled. “so, i put two and two together for the first time. you’re the one i like, y/n.”

it was the moment you’ve been waiting for for so long, and yet the only thing you could come up with was “haha, cool.” 

in response, osamu stared at you long and hard before taking another bite out of his crepe. “i think your brain is fried,” he muttered through a mouthful of crepe.”

“hold on, hold on,” you held a finger up, finally coming back to your senses. “you had a crush on me and also the audacity to make me juliet and have your twin brother as romeo?”

“i thought you’d be really cool as juliet but i didn’t want to go through the work of being romeo,” osamu said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “obviously it backfired but--”

“that’s called karma, osamu,” you pointed an accusing finger at him. “if you think i’m going to let you off easy i’m--” 

you were cut off by osamu’s lips meeting yours and the taste of whipped cream and strawberry on your tongue. your brain short-circuited, trying to think of a way to describe this situation other than ‘haha, cool’ again. osamu, sensing your brain waves, pulled you even closer with a hand on your cheek.

“are you going to let me off now?” he raised an eyebrow at you after you parted. you smirked.

“i’ll have to think about it.” 

“yeah?” osamu mumbled, his smirk matching yours. “what else do i need to do?” you leaned forward before taking a bite out of the crepe in his hands. you chewed while grinning at the surprised look on osamu’s face.

“now we’re even.”

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart@akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan@therainroguefanfiction@atetiffdoesart@stephdaninja@oikaw-ugh@charliefredb@dramaqueenweeb1469@tremblinghearts@applepienation@doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love

[exauhstedsunflower]

I Am Very Proud Of You

For @cynicalrainbows, a one shot featuring the idea that Catalina feels left out of mom!Jane’s pride in her so called kids.

This got long.

It’s been a while since the queens have reincarnated. They’ve long since passed most of their personal issues. They even settled in nicely to the current century. Anne and Kitty got jobs, working in a flower shop just down the road. Anna has picked up several volunteer shifts at a local animal shelter. Cathy is a tutor for adults at the neighborhood library. And Catalina works at a daycare, decidedly liking modern day kids over modern day adults. (They have all of the curiosity and none of the disbelief in her legitimacy as a former queen of England.)

And Jane, well, Jane is a stay at home mother. Kind of.

They live in the suburbs in a place where cost of living is pretty low, Kitty, Anne and Catalina make enough to cover their more indulgent purchases. Whereas the rest is covered by some anonymous donor, who they think is the reason they are even alive. There is no reason for Jane to have to get a job herself. Not to say she doesn’t have hobbies, she does occasionally visit the local art supplies stores, and sometimes she goes to the animal shelter with Anna. But she does actually prefer to stay home as an introvert.

As she does stay home most of the time, she takes up most of the household chores. She cleans, she cooks, she makes sure that there is order where there would normally be chaos. This also means that she’s taken on the more maternal place in the house. The others rely on her, whether they were reluctant to in the beginning or not.

Her biggest maternal habit is validating the other queens. She spent a lot of time in her last life being put down- they all had. The least she can do whilst being the glue that keeps their little family together is to make sure they all know they are doing great given the circumstances.

It’s a rather chaotic morning, she’s been running around like crazy. They all have, but her in particular trying to get everyone ready for the day.

“Jane!”

That’s Anne, upstairs and probably looking for her jacket, which is hanging on the end of the railing at the lower level.

“Down here love, come and get your jacket before you and Kitty are late!”

She speeds down, almost crashing into Anna, who’s rifling through her bag with a piece of toast in her mouth. When she asks what the woman is looking for, she seems to forget about the toast. Jane reaches out and catches it in a moment of astounding reflexes.

“Ah! Don’t get crumbs all over my carpet, please.”

“Sorry! Have you seen my-“

“Jane! I can’t find my-“

“Kitty! I found-“

“Cathy, you-!”

Jane snorts, leave it to those two to have half conversations and still understand each other.

“What is it, Anna?”

She snaps back to attention, having been distracted by the yelling upstairs. Impressive how those two have the capacity to be that loud given the way they haven’t slept in two days. Yes, Jane knows. And yes, Jane will be intervening if they try to make it a third.

“My wallet, I can’t find my wallet.”

“Have you checked the hoodie you wore yesterday?”

“Shi- Crap,” Anna quickly corrects herself in Jane’s presence, “I forgot about that, let me check.”

She races off to check the coat closet, which is where she’s stuck most of her hoodies in an attempt for space in her own closet.

It doesn’t take long for Jane to find something else to focus on. Anne is currently making an attempt to find her snack pack for the day. Now, this is something that unlike what you might think, is not Jane’s doing. She does not pack lunches and snacks for the women in the house, if they want that they can do so themselves. Jane places Anna’s toast on a paper towel and decides to help.

“Isn’t it in the lower cabinet? Could’ve sworn you all changed where you keep them.”

“Oh! We did!

She finds her bag, likely filled with sweets, and stuffs the sandwich she was making and a water bottle into it. Then she does the same for the three others.

“Oh, you’re making lunch for everyone.” She observes.

“Yeah, everyone’s running a bit late this morning and I’m ready. So, might as well.”

Jane smiles, “I’m proud of you. That’s really sweet.”

Anne immediately flushes and thanks her bashfully, she never did get used to the praise.

Kitty then runs into the room, claiming she is ready to go.

Her outfit is a little different today. But, also, Kitty’s outfits are always a little different. Today it’s red lumberjack pattern leggings and a green sweater. There are several silver accessories that compliment her choker with a silver ‘K’ charm hanging off of it. Her hair is in a messy bun, unlike yesterday when it was straightened.

“Jeez kid, is it Christmas already?”

Jane rolls her eyes at Anne’s comment. “I think you look cute, good job Kit.”

The girl beams at the compliment. Her sense of style has been a way of expressing autonomy, a way of showing that she has full control over her body. Jane is incredibly proud that the girl has found something to help her deal with her past trauma in a healthy way. Even if it means questionable but admittedly cute fashion choices.

Cathy and Anna pass by Jane, grabbing their lunches with a quick thanks to Anne. Anna is holding her wallet, so Jane supposes it was in fact in the pocket of her hoodie. Cathy grabs a to-go cup and fills it with coffee.

“Cathy, thank you for being the only one to not scream for me this morning. I’m proud. But have we got any sugar for your coffee?”

Jane doesn’t remember buying any, but she does recall running out yesterday.

“I picked some up on the way home, it’s in the top left cabinet.” Anna supplies.

“That’s great, Anna. Thank you.” Jane is using her Proud Mom Voice. Anna also gets a lot of praise from Cathy, who forgot to buy more and was about to have to drink bitter coffee. (Not that she would have minded, but she prefers it to be a bit sweeter during the day. Black coffee is for night time.) She also smiles at Jane for her comment on her independence.

With the coffee made, and everything needed for the day found, it’s time for them all to head out. Anne and Kitty can walk, and Anna drives Cathy to the library on her way to the shelter. Sometimes Jane walks with her cousins to the shop. She’ll pick up a bouquet for the house or a new plant for the garden and that’ll give her something to do for about a half hour of being home. But today she’s not feeling up for the walk, even if it is just down the road.

She does a headcount of everyone and mentally goes through the list of things to be done in the mornings. Everyone’s lunches are made. Anne and her things, Kitty and her choker, Anna and her bag, Cathy and her coffee, Catalina-

Catalina isn’t down yet. She drives the other car, so it’s not much of a hold up for the rest. They all attempt to grab something small to eat to take with them as Jane wonders where the oldest queen is.

Her relationship with Catalina is a little different. Catalina’s the oldest, the most regal and independent, she doesn’t need a mother. And while Jane has proudly claimed the mom friend title, she doesn’t want to cross any boundaries.

Of course she still checks in on her every once in a while, but she’s not as forthcoming in the mothering with her. They both seem rather content with the arrangement, seeing as they’re both the more mature one’s in the house. They tend to be the one taking care of the others, not being taken care of.

Just as Jane is about to check in to make sure Catalina is alright, the woman arrives amongst the rest. She looks a little happier than usual.

“Sorry for the hold up, I was caught up doing something.”

Jane’s about to ask what, but Cathy beats her to it.

“Oh, it’s nothing really. Just finished applying for that child care class.”

Everyone cheers. That’s something Catalina’s been putting off for a while now. She hasn’t done it yet in fear of being rejected or putting herself in a situation she’s not prepared for.

But this is a great step! Because Catalina’s end goal is to open her own daycare center, and having the credentials to back it is super helpful. And she’s already flushed at the reaction that she got, so maybe that's why when Jane places a hand on her arm and says she’s proud of her, Catalina freezes.

It was an instinct, honest. She’d never do that on purpose, it's quite honestly probably a little patronizing to the woman she holds in such high regard. It’s just that she’s been praising all of the rest of the queens all morning and she’s still in that mindset.

She pulls her hand away slowly, and Catalina shakes her head as if she’s trying to clear some thoughts, and they move on.

“Right, so, everyone out! You’ll all be late at this rate.”

Jane herds the rest to the door, seeing Catalina linger for a moment. But she catches Jane's eye and seems to brace herself before walking toward the door herself. Jane does not ask if she’s okay, she doesn’t want to overstep again.

“You all got ready and you’ll probably be on time! Great job, love you all, see you later!”

She gets a chorus of “Bye Mum!” back from all except one. A common joke among the queens, based on her role in the house. It honestly fills her with pride though, so she never refutes the moniker.

Jane tries to catch Catalina on her way out to wish her a good day; but the woman dodges her and races to her own car, leaving Jane worried she offended her friend.

-

Catalina presses submit and leans back in her chair with a deep breath. This is a big step for her. It’s a good thing, but it’s also a commitment. It does help with her long term plans though, so she’s willing to do it.

The class would only take her seven months to complete, and it’s all something she’s invested in, it shouldn't be this scary to start. But it is, and she can’t help but resent that she has no support.

She shakes that thought away as soon as it comes. Of course she has support. The queens are very supportive. She knows that when she tells them she finally applied they’ll all be very happy for her.

Happy, not proud.

She shouldn’t feel that way. She should be happy that she’s been given this second chance, happy that she’s able to spend it with her loving family. And she is! But she can’t help but feel slightly excluded.

“Jane!”

Catalina has half a mind to tell them to leave the poor woman alone. They’ve been calling for her all morning. But she does seem to enjoy that they need her so.

“Down here love, come and get your jacket before you and Kitty are late!”

“Jane! I can’t find-“

“Kitty, I found-“

She could never call for Jane like that. It’s more than likely she’d be judged for it. No, she’s independent. She’s the oldest, she doesn’t need Jane to take care of her. And honestly she does prefer to take care of herself. It’s not that that bothers her though.

It’s just that Jane always seems proud. Consistently, someone in the house is making her proud. Whether it be something small, like making a phone call; or something big, like getting their licenses. Jane always finds something to be proud of when it comes to all of the queens.

All except Catalina.

She’s honestly tried everything. She’s done the small things like make a big deal out of something menial and then finally doing it, to no avail.

(“Catalina, weren’t you supposed to make that call three days ago?”

Catalina bites her lip, hoping.

“Yeah, but it was making me nervous so I kept putting it off.”

That’s not even a lie. Catalina does in fact have a bit of anxiety surrounding phone calls. But usually she'd rather die than admit a fear. She hopes to receive some sort of reassurance out of this, as she’d had a rough week and this was pretty difficult. But instead she gets a frown.

“You shouldn’t put stuff like that off. If you need help with a phone call just ask.”)

Then she tried acting out, which truthfully made her feel quite childish and stupid. It didn’t work like it seems to work for Kitty or Anne, who Jane seems to have a soft spot for. But they’re family, Catalina reminds herself, real family.

(“I don’t wanna.”

Jane furrows her eyebrows, “What do you mean you don’t want to? You’ve been asking to cook this for weeks! I even set aside the ingredients.”

“Well, I changed my mind. I’m not cooking.”

She doesn’t get a gentle goading into whatever it is she changed her mind about suddenly, like Cathy or Anna would. No, this bout of unnecessary refusal to help out with dinner just lands her in hot water with Jane, who was already feeling a little stressed.

“All I ask is-“

Jane’s rant lasted about thirty minutes, and Catalina felt much like a child who was chided for disobedience all night.)

Needless to say, although she does acknowledge it in her head, Jane does not care for Catalina in the way she cares for the others. They do have a friendship, but Catalina does not receive the same type of love.

And it’s fine, totally fine.

Just that Catalina doesn’t quite want to face Jane this morning. Because she just did something really significant and if she has to face being treated unequal to the others when she mentions it she might have to go back to bed.

But she is happy she’s done it now. It’s like a weight has been lifted off of her shoulders, she’s been putting this off for so long now that she’d never thought she would do it. One of the other daycare workers had convinced her yesterday to do it as soon as she got home, and she put it off until this morning. She couldn’t just go into work and face that person saying she didn’t do it, could she? And so she did.

With that sudden burst of happiness after her anxiety, she prepares to face the chaos waiting for her downstairs. She’s already heard them all congregate to the kitchen, maybe she can grab a pop tart before leaving.

“Cathy, thank you for being the only one to not scream for me this morning. I’m proud. But have we got any sugar for your coffee?”

“I picked some up on the way home, it’s in the top left cabinet.”

“That’s great, Anna. Thank you.”

So, Jane’s in a praising mood this morning. Great.

She walks briskly into the kitchen and moves toward the counter that holds her lunch bag, thanking Anne for packing it this morning. As she does this she apologizes for holding them all up, they’re clearly all ready to go. She hopes they haven’t been waiting long.

“What were you doing?”

She glances at Cathy, then starts rifling through her pockets again to find her keys. She’s looked for her keys three times now, she knows she has them, but it’s something to focus on.

“Oh, it’s nothing really.” She tries to sound nonchalant as she says it. “Just finished applying for that child care class.”

Nothing could have prepared her for the cheers that sound through the room. Everyone seems so happy for her. And Catalina herself is really excited, so it’s nice. It’s nice to feel people being happy for her, even if she’s not making anyone proud.

Kitty hugs her, Anna starts talking about the future plans to own a daycare that they can all help with, Cathy congratulates her since she knew how hard it was for Catalina to make that step. Even Anne is smiling at her and pitching ideas for Anna to shoot down.

And then, Catalina’s heart stops.

Jane puts a hand on her arm, like she’s seen the woman do to every other person in the house, and tells her she’s proud. She even looks like she means it, for a moment.

Catalina can’t possibly respond, as she’s never had to respond to that before. She’s been trying to make it happen, but she hadn’t thought this far ahead. She just freezes and stands still, eyes wide with surprise and slight hope. And then Jane looks slightly regretful, and it’s enough to kill her mood completely.

Of course it was habitual, she’s been telling people she’s proud all morning. But she doesn’t act like that with Catalina. It wasn’t on purpose.

“Right, everyone out!” Catalina doesn’t hear the rest of what Jane says as she withdraws her hand. Everyone makes their way out of the front door and says their goodbyes. And once Catalina regains her ability to move, she quickly dodges Jane’s special not caring goodbye to her and practically runs to her car.

Her drive to the daycare usually takes about twenty minutes, it’s not unusual for her to arrive early to help set up. On days like today, where everyone is running late, she gets there with enough time to at least say hello to everyone before they open. But today is a special case. This particular morning, Catalina pulls into the parking lot of a convenience store/gas station and doesn’t care if she’s going to be late.

Hands shaking, she takes the key out of the ignition and stares into space. Jane said she’s proud of her. Not only that, but Catalina ruined it by freezing up. Maybe she wouldn’t have looked so apprehensive and regretful if Catalina had reacted better. Damn.

She tries to recall something to make her feel better. Something to make her at least stable enough to drive. A memory from her maids as a child or something funny from this life, anything at all. But as she goes through her head all she can find is that she can’t remember the last time someone was proud of her.

That may have been the first time in either of her lives that anyone has ever told her so.

She takes a deep breath. She needs to stop being so weird about it. It was out of habit, a lapse in character. It’s not as if Jane actually meant anything by it; Catalina should stop thinking about it. Her heart should stop its longing, she’s a grown woman. It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t have that kind of relationship with Jane, they’re still good friends. She doesn’t need Jane to feel that way about her.

God, she wishes that circle of thinking actually worked.

-

Jane worries. It’s something very known about her. If there was three things that signified Mom Friend to the group, it was her mom-like pride in her family, her hugs (which are soft,warm and inviting to all.), and her ability to inexplicably worry like no other.

Sometimes she frets over the other queens safety. Like when Kitty had wanted to go skydiving and brought Anna with her. Sometimes it’s at night time when she hears walking around. Although when that happens she can usually keep herself in bed if she hears more than one person up at a time. Today, she’s worried over if she’s just ruined her perfectly good friendship with Catalina.

She has so much respect for the woman, Jane would never intentionally cause her to feel uncomfortable. If only she’d just thought it through a bit more. Catalina clearly didn’t want the attention. But all Jane could think is that she was just so proud. Catalina’s been putting that off for so long now, Jane was so relieved to see it happen.

And now she’s alone, which doesn’t stop her worrying.

If anything being alone makes it worse, because now she’s overthinking what the woman's reaction could have possibly meant for them. Is she going to distance herself now? Will she be upset with Jane for accidentally being condescending? She would have every right to be indignant, Catherine of Aragon does not need to hear the praises of Jane, her former Lady In Waiting.

It’s been no more than thirty minutes since the others have left for the day, and Jane has already driven herself mad with anxiety. She tires to hum as she tidies the living room, only to feel herself becoming too impatient with the tasks. Then she attempted to watch TV, but ultimately could not focus. It seems today is a job for a bit of a more heavy duty distraction. Usually she’d work in the yard, but the hum of nature might hut more than help in the focusing department today. So, she picks up her most recent embroidery project and heads off to her bedroom.

She settles in, ready for a long day of avoiding her own thoughts. But the door downstairs opens, pulling her from her work immediately.

Who on earth could that be?

She opens her door and peers down the stairs, thankful that the location of her room allows her to see. Hopefully it’s not a burglar, Jane thinks she couldn’t handle that stress today. Not when she’d dealt with anxiety from yet another harrowing social interaction. Even with the queens, she finds a way to mess up. And they wonder why she’s an introvert.

The person who has entered their home starts coming up the stairs, and she sees. It’s only Catalina. Her heart slows in relief for a moment, before she remembers that Catalina is part of why she’s worrying. Then it shoots right back to the pace it was at before. Jane doesn’t close the door, she just makes eye contact with her and offers a smile.

“What happened with work?”

Catalina’s eyes flash an unfamiliar emotion before settling into a passive stare.

“Not feeling up to it today. I called out half way there.”

Now, usually Jane would rush to her fellow queens aid. But after this morning she doesn’t want to seem overbearing, so she stays rooted to her spot and keeps her tone even.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

-

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

If Catalina were anyone else, Jane would be running to help. She’d probably insist on calling a doctor and rush her to bed before even hearing what’s wrong. Then she’d endure the jokes at her expense for the overreaction.

But Catalina for some reason is not the same, so Jane does not act like that with her.

“No, I’m just going to lie down.”

Jane nods, and closes her door. Apparently not seeing the dejection emanating from the other woman’s very posture.

Catalina seriously just needs to make peace with the fact that she isn’t one of the others. She’s a part of the family, but she’ll never be in with them. If she made peace with this, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much when the examples of her isolation are so plain to see.

Instead of continuing to sulk in front of Jane’s door like a child, Catalina goes to her bedroom to sulk in her own space.

-

Catalina’s home.

Catalina is home, and Jane is so sure now that she’s made things weird. They can hardly make eye contact with each other.

She sits back down and aggressively picks up her embroidery project. Focus, focus, focus, focus! Her mind drifts back and forth between her hands moving swiftly through a stitch and her possible damaged friendship with Catalina. She should apologize, she won’t be leaving to focus until she-

Jane is abruptly pulled out of her thoughts by a subtle knock on her door. She knows Catalina is the only other queen home, but she can’t help but think that the knock is similar to Kitty’s on a bad day.

“Come in.”

The door opens slightly, and the woman on the other side ones her head in, “Jane?”

“Yes?”

There’s a hesitation, which is probably because Jane has made things irrecoverably weird between them. But eventually after her mental deliberation Catalina steps all the way into the room and softly closes the door behind herself.

When she doesn't speak right away, Jane moves her stuff off of the bed and invites her to sit. After Cataina’s sitting, they both make an attempt to start the conversation.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable-“

“Thank you for saying you’re proud of me-“

They both stop and stare, wide eyed.

“What-“

“Why would you have made me-“

“I just thought-“

“No! Never, I-“

“We’ve just been such good friends-“

“Yes! And so that was nice to hear-“

Jane looks at Catalina, astounded. Had she really been happy about the praise? She says so, but she seemed so put off by it before.

“Then why did you react like it was wrong?” She questions.

She watches Catalina take a breath before providing her own explanation.

“It just caught me off guard is all. You don’t really tend to say things like that to me.”

“I mean, I never thought you’d need it.”

-

Catalina’s knee jerk reaction is to say she doesn’t. But then she stops herself. If this conversation is going to be productive at all, she needs to be honest.

“It’s nice to hear every once in a while, though.”

Jane looks surprised by the admission, as if Catalina has just told her a secret.

“I always thought it would make you uncomfortable.” She murmurs back, although now she sounds like she’s back in her head.

Catalina gulps, now or never.

“I’ve actually been wanting to hear it.” She admits before she can stifle herself.

The other woman is still absolutely shocked; and if at all possible, her eyes get wider.

“What?” Jane stammers out in disbelief. Catalina kind of wants the floor to open up and swallow her.

“Not to sound needy or anything!” She rushes. “It’s just that you say stuff like that to the others all of the time, and this is the first time you’ve said it to me! And so I got excited but I knew it was just you saying it out of habit so I didn’t respond.”

“-Well I would have said it more often to you if I’d known!”

“But you didn’t know-“

“I was trying to respect your boundaries-“

“I get that, nothing has to change either-“

“Hell yes it does!”

Now it’s Catalina’s turn to be wide eyed in surprise. She’s never heard Jane sound so indignant before.

“You’ve- what? Been thinking I’m just, not proud of you? This whole time?” There’s a sense of urgency in the defensive nature of her voice. She needs to know the answer to these questions. So Catalina answers truthfully.

“Well, yes? And you certainly don’t have to be. I’m a grown woman, I don’t need to hear that you’re proud of me all of the time.”

She didn’t realize she’d been looking away until Jane grabbed her arm. It’s a soft touch, reminiscent of the way she held it this morning. When she meets Jane’s eyes all she sees is warmth.

“Catalina, I am so, so proud of you. Every day.”

Catalina opens her mouth to protest, but Jane speaks again before she can.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been showing it properly. I thought that you’d be uncomfortable if I treated you the same as everyone else. I have too much respect for you to do that.”

Oh.

“I’ll say it more, now that I know you’re okay with it. Alright?”

Catalina can hardly nod, overcome with an indescribable emotion. All she knows is that she feels warm.

They lapse into a comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company. They are good friends after all. Enjoying being around each other is the basis of their friendship, actually.

“Hey, Jane?”

“Yes?”

“You know, calling out is really stressful.” She observes.

Jane’s eyes light up in recognition, “Ah, yes. What with them asking you questions and your phone anxiety. I imagine it’s very difficult for you.”

She nods bashfully, hopeful once again.

“Well, dear, I am very proud of you.”

[plaidbooks]

The Detective and the Teacher

A/N: This idea kinda came out of nowhere, but I needed to get it out of my head (like most of my stories). It’s a two-parter, and I’ll post part 2 tomorrow. If people are interested, I could make it into a longer series, but I also am kind of ok with it being short. Also, idk how to write dates, sorry

Tags: None for this part, next part will

Words: 3k+

I have a meeting with a cute guy in my class. You should come, meet him

You rolled your eyes at the text your friend sent you. She was a professor at Fordham University, teaching Risk and Crisis Communications to undergrads and graduate students. She, however, was happily married. But that didn’t stop her from finding cute guys in her class and trying to set them up with you. “They’re college students; they’re going somewhere in life,” she would argue. Besides, her idea of “cute college guys” wasn’t totally off; the main problem was waiting for someone around your age to be in her classes. You were a teacher yourself, in your early 30s, and most people taking her classes were right out of high school; way too young for you.

It was the beginning of summer in New York, so you didn’t have classes, instead volunteering at the library. Your friend, Professor Stafford, was teaching night classes this semester; sometimes she stayed after class to help a student if they asked…and they couldn’t make her office hours. So, it was 8pm by the time you were walking the halls of the University, a coffee in your hand—an excuse to meet with a friend. It was her idea; if there was a potential date for you, she’d text you, you’d come to the University with a coffee or food to deliver it to her before the meeting, then casually “bump” into the student. You made it to her classroom, handed her the coffee.

“So, what’s his name?” you asked, grinning.

She took the coffee gratefully, taking a sip before replying. “Andrew Wise. He’s one of my top students; I think you’ll really like him.” She gave you a playful wink and you rolled your eyes.

“You said that about the last three guys, and they were all snobby jerks,” you laughed.

She opened her mouth to respond when there was a soft knock on the door, a man poking his head in. “Uh, Professor Stafford? Should I wait outside?”

“No, no Andrew. Come in. This is just my friend, dropping off some coffee,” she said, beckoning him in.

You looked Andrew up and down briefly; he seemed nice, and there was nothing really wrong with him, but just the vibe he gave off had you instantly thinking, nope. You gave a smile and wave to your friend before heading out, letting them have their meeting. You didn’t feel like waiting, like trying to come up with a reason to wait, to talk to Andrew after his meeting. Instead, you wandered through the hallways, looking out the windows to the trees, the sky darkening. The sunset was slowly fading, the sky changing from the bright pinks and oranges to the pale blue of evening. You were so engrossed with the picturesque beauty of it all that you walked face-first into another person, the side of your face fully connecting with their flat, warm chest.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you said, pulling back to steady yourself, looking towards whoever you had just stumbled into. You looked forward and your eyes met chest, covered in a plain, Fordham U shirt. Your eyes travelled upwards into his face and you had to stop yourself from staring; he was, well, cute.

“It’s fine, really. I shoulda been watching where I was going,” he replied back, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back, his brow was furrowed, though his bright blue eyes hinted at amusement.

You smiled up at him, and he returned it, a goofy grin pulling easily across his face. “No, I was definitely admiring the view,” you gestured out to the landscape. You noticed the backpack slung over his shoulder, “and now I’m holding you from your next class.”

“No, no, I’m done for the night; just heading home actually.” He readjusted the backpack, as if your gaze had shifted it. He glanced over the balcony and towards the sky. “It really is a pretty view, huh?”

Your eyes never left him as you agreed. God, you’re acting like a teenager in a shitty romance novel, you thought to yourself, trying to snap out of whatever trance you were in.

“So, uh, do you go here?” he asked, eyes sliding back to you.

You shook your head. “I don’t, no. Uh, Professor Stafford is a friend of mine. I was just stopping by to say hi,” you explained.

“Professor Stafford? Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell. I dunno if I know them,” he said, contemplating. At some point during this conversation, you both fell into step next to each other, both heading towards the parking lot.

“Are you taking any Communications courses?” you asked.

“And that’s why I haven’t heard of them; I am not,” he grinned. “I’m a law student.” You nodded in understanding; while you thought Communications could be beneficial to a law student—to most students, if you were honest with yourself—most people didn’t take classes outside of their majors. Especially in a field that was so dependent on passing an exam.

“Well, if you ever need an elective, I highly recommend her class,” you smiled.

He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You walked in silence for a moment. “My name’s Sonny, by the way. Sonny Carisi.”

It had just hit you that you never introduced yourself; with the shock of literally walking face-first into someone, then the easy conversation, it had completely slipped your mind. It was like you were old friends already. “Oh, [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Nice to meet you, Sonny.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he gave you that goofy grin again, and you swore that you swooned right there. How did he do that with just a smile? You made it to the parking lot and found that you were parked semi-close to each other. He followed you to your car, something that you initially thought should raise alarms in your head, but something about him was calming, unthreatening.

“So,” he started as you unlocked your car. You opened the driver’s door, then leaned on it, him standing near the front of your car. He suddenly looked nervous, bashful, and it made him look even cuter. “Can I maybe buy you a coffee sometime? To, uh, make up for running into you,” he quickly added.

You felt your face grow warmer as you blushed, your heart fluttering. Did he just ask you out? “Uh, yeah. I’d like that,” you replied, unable to stop yourself from grinning broadly at him.

He smiled himself, seemingly happy that you agreed. “Great! How about tomorrow, say 10am, Cuppa Beans on 6th street?”

You quickly thought through tomorrow, made sure you had nothing scheduled in the morning. “That sounds perfect. I’ll see you there, Sonny.” With that, he made his way to his car while you got into yours. Once he was out of your line of sight, you flailed your arms in disbelief—you got a date with a super-cute law student!

 *****************

You woke up the next day early, wanting to shower and pick out something cute to wear. While you got ready, you thought back to the information you had found last night. You weren’t stupid enough to go into a date blind; you googled “Sonny Carisi” the first moment you could the night before. And when that came up with nothing substantial, you asked Professor Stafford for help. Turns out, Sonny was a nickname; his real name was Dominick. With that knowledge, you were able to find that he was a detective for the NYPD, specifically for Manhattan’s SVU department. That gave you a little bit of a pause; you couldn’t imagine having to deal with those kinds of cases, what kinds of things Sonny had probably seen on the job. You wondered if that did anything to his mind, weighed on him at all. You hoped so; someone would have to be a monster for it not to. Maybe that’s why he was a law student, maybe he wanted out. Maybe he wanted some sort of revenge against the predators that he couldn’t get as an officer; some sort of control by being the prosecutor tasked with sealing them away rather than seeing the crime scenes.

You pushed the assumptions out of your mind; you didn’t know this man, not yet. You had met him less than 24 hours ago, had a small chat. He seemed nice enough, and he was definitely attractive. You resolved to judge him based on what you gained from first-hand experience, and to shove everything you learned online, all the conjecture out until you knew more.

Cuppa Beans was relatively close to your apartment, and it was a bright, sunny day in New York, so you opted to walk. Besides, you loved the fresh air of the city, the warmth of the sun on your skin, the soft breeze playing with your hair, the cacophony of sounds that others most likely found annoying or monotonous. You wore a simple, navy blue sundress that had a white tie around your waist, a big, white bow on your hip. You made your way through the crowded streets, full of people hurrying to whatever their destinations might be. You were early; you always were. But you didn’t mind; Cuppa Beans was set up for either those who wanted a coffee and to move on with their day, or for those who wanted to sit and relax, a shelf of books on their counter for anyone to read while they enjoyed their beverage. You ordered then sat, skimming the worn spines of books until a familiar one stood out to you. You picked it out, looking at the familiar cover. Remembering one of your favorite scenes, you opened the book, flipping the pages until you found it, then you quickly got lost in the text while waiting.

“[Y/N],” a happy voice greeted, pulling you out of the book.

You glanced up, Sonny standing in front of you, his trademark grin on his face. He pulled out the chair across from you as you closed the book, putting it back on the shelf.

“Hey Sonny,” you smiled. Right then, the barista brought you your coffee and you thanked her.

“Ah, I thought I was going to buy you a coffee,” Sonny said, jokingly offended.

Your smiled widened. “You have to order something to sit here, sorry,” you explained, taking a sip. Sonny ordered his coffee, and the barista left to make it.

“It’s fine; maybe I can convince you to let me buy you lunch instead.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Are you asking me out on a second date before we’ve even had our first?”

His cheeks reddened and his eyes widened slightly. “Well, it doesn’t have to be…I mean, it can be an extension of this one?” You laughed, and he tried to switch the subject. “So, what were you reading when I got here? You seemed really into it.”

You nodded, grabbing the book once more. “It’s called Wind from an Enemy Sky by D’Arcy McNickle. It’s very good; I’m thinking of using it in my class next year.” He furrowed his brow at this. “Oh, I’m an English teacher at Townsend Harris High School…I know, I’m not a college professor at Fordham like my friend, but I like teaching high school.”

“High school, huh? I couldn’t imagine trying to teach a bunch of teenagers anything,” he smirked.

You nodded; that was most people’s reaction. But it was also that reaction that made you want to teach high school more. “It’s not as bad as people seem to think. They are people, you know. Just treat them with respect, and they’re pretty receptive. I mean, you’re going to have those class clowns, but you just have to know how to deal with them. Stimulate their minds in other ways,” you explained.

The barista gave Sonny his coffee, and he sipped at it appreciatively. “So, what’s the book about?” You started off slowly, explaining the main plotline of the book; how it followed Bull, the leader of the Little Elk tribe, and how it talked about how homesteaders came into the West, encroaching upon their land. But you couldn’t stop yourself from diving in, talking about the inherent cultural appropriation that the main antagonist has, how from the first page, you know how the story will end in tragedy, how the ecocentrism worked, and ending with how important it was for teenagers to read and understand books that were written like this; from the other side, from people other than white men.

By the end of your monologue, Sonny was blinking at you, a dazed look on his face, though something else underneath, something that looked a lot like admiration.

“I’m sorry; that got a lot more in-depth than I thought it would,” you said, cheeks turning red. Sometimes, you couldn’t stop yourself from getting into a text you really liked. Your students usually picked up on that and took advantage of it; many classes ended without the students talking because you had steamrolled over the conversation.

“Hey, don’t apologize for your interests. You just know…a lot more about themes and novels than I do,” he smiled.

You sat up at the praise but were still feeling embarrassed at the word vomit that had occurred. Taking a page out of his book, you decided to switch topics. “Tell me about yourself; how is it working as a detective and being a law student?”

Sonny’s brow furrowed, “how’d you know I was a detective?”

You face felt even warmer, and you knew you were fully red now. “I, uh, googled you last night…nothing personal, just wanted to make sure you weren’t, you know, a serial killer or something,” you laughed nervously, and he smirked.

“No, I get it, that’s smart, really. Can never be too safe.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I’ve wanted to be a lawyer for a while, now, but the timing just never seemed right, ya know? So, after high school, I just kinda went into the academy; I knew I wanted to help people, and I figured that was a good way to do it. It wasn’t until recently that I figured ‘why not’? So, now I’m taking the night classes to try and get my license, pass the bar.”

You nodded along with his story; you yourself changed your major a couple times before settling into where you were. It was definitely normal, and you believed wholeheartedly that anyone could go back to school at any point in their life, learn anything they wanted to.

“Are you going to switch out of law enforcement when you pass the bar, then? Become a prosecutor? Or are you just taking law classes to help you in your detective work?” you asked. The idea occurred to you while in the shower; knowing more about the law could help in the interview rooms, when he interrogated suspects. You knew he said he wanted to be a lawyer before, but that didn’t mean he was going for it.

“I’m…not quite sure, yet. I really like being a detective, ya know? I like helping people. I guess at this point, I just want to pass the bar; that’s where my focus is…when it’s not at work,” he explained. “I can figure out where to go after that.”

You nodded again. “I couldn’t imagine trying to work full time in…that department, and then also take college classes,” you commented. You shuddered remembering your time going to school full time and working retail at the same time.

“It can be…taxing sometimes. But at the end of the day, it’s nice knowing I’ve helped somebody.” There were unspoken words in the air, and you could hear them as if he had said them. You noticed it in his eyes, the flash of sadness as he thought about the ones he couldn’t help. But the moment passed, and his bright blues were clear once more.

That answered your other question; some cases did hit him hard. But, as you had also decided, that was a good thing; cases like that should pull on heartstrings. You noticed he had a hand on the table, and you reached up and slowly, so slowly, put your hand on his in comfort. That goofy grin reappeared on his face, and he interlaced his fingers with yours.

You both finished your coffees, then left the shop together, Sonny holding the door open for you, his hand never letting yours go. By some unspoken agreement, you both started walking down the street, hand-in-hand, arms swinging slightly. You asked Sonny about his semester and listened as he rambled on about some theory he had to memorize, or some law he had to apply to a fake case for a class. You realized that you enjoyed listening to him talk; he was very animated, dropping your hand to gesture in front of himself, then taking your hand again, before dropping it to gesture again. You smiled, then laughed as he described one of his professor’s insane expectations for how much he expected his students to read and write, wondering in awe how Sonny managed to juggle all that schoolwork plus his job.

“Do you sleep?” you finally asked, causing him to chuckle.

“Some nights,” he replied, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

Maybe because you were feeling bold, or maybe because he did already kind of ask you on a second date, but you replied with, “maybe I can help with that sometime.”

He stumbled a step, his hand gripping yours tighter as he struggled to stay standing, and you giggled. His cheeks were red, and he opened his mouth to say something, but then his phone rang. He dug it out, answering with a terse, “Carisi.” It was interesting watching him go from a flustered mess one moment to focused detective the next. He nodded against the phone, even though whoever was on the other end couldn’t see him. “Yeah, alright Lieu, I’ll be there in 20.” He hung up then gave you an apologetic look.

“Duty calls?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, just got some new…developments on a case I’m working. I’m so sorry about this—”

“Don’t be, I get it,” you cut him off, giving him an understanding smile. If you wanted to try and continue seeing him, then this may become a habit…and you did want to try and see him, even though you’d only been on one date. You already felt a closeness to him that you couldn’t quite explain.

“I parked over at the coffee shop; I can walk you back there,” he offered, extending his hand back to you. You took his, interlacing your fingers once more, and hurried back towards the shop. Before he left, he handed you his card—you struggled not to laugh at the fact that he carried these around on his day off—and you put it in your purse, vowing to text him later that night, to set up that lunch that he offered to take you to.

“So, you do want a second date?” he asked, hopeful. You smiled; he was all in a hurry to head to the station, to get into whatever work awaited him, but he had stopped dead in his tracks at the prospect of another date.

“Of course. I had a great time today, Sonny.”

He grinned back at you, making your heart flutter in your chest. “I had a lot of fun, too. Hopefully our next date won’t be cut short.”

[spnfanficpond]

Pond Diving - Queen-of-deans-booty

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

“Don’t Be Koi About It” - All About You

Name: Jordan

Age: 23

Location: Arizona, USA

URL: @queen-of-deans-booty 

Why did you choose your URL: Honestly, Dean is the first person I liked on SPN and his ass is so tight and I believe all women are queens so that’s why.

What inspired you to become a writer: I remember reading a book in middle school about vampires, and it’s the first book I remember reading that made me feel all sorts of emotions that books never used to do for me before then. It amazed me to feel these things from a book, and I realized that I wanted to do that for other people someday, thus, is why I became a writer.

How long have you been writing: Gosh, since 8th grade. Might have been a little bit before that, but I remember in 8th grade writing a full book at 20k words, which if I might say, is impressive for a thirteen-year-old.

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc? I actually am a security guard at a chemical plant. There is some down time to this job, and I try to spend it writing. I even gush to my boss about the stories I write and where I post, and he is all for supporting me about it. When I am not working or writing, then I am either watching Criminal Minds, Manifest, and movies while in my room. With this COVID thing going on right now, I barely leave my house as it is xD

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom? Since season 11 was on TV. It was actually after season 11 had ended and before season 12 had started, so in that four-month span, I managed to watch 11 seasons.

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? Yes! I am in the Marvel and Criminal Minds fandom! I used to be in The Vampire Diaries fandom, but I lost my passion for it so I knew my writing was suffering, so I stopped it. I am doing series rewrites for all three of my fandoms along with one-shots and drabbles!

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it?  Yes, I try to. I took a NaNoWriMo class in college that made me write my first real book, so that is exciting. I also took fiction classes that made me write poems and short stories. I do want to get into writing more original fiction, but right now, I am focusing more on fanfiction.

Favorite published author: I love Riley Sager, B.A. Paris, James Patterson, Ruth Ware, and there are specific books I adore, but they aren’t from the authors I mentioned. I tend to like books rather than authors.

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?: Vampire Kisses by Ellen Schreiber. That's the book that I mentioned about inspiring me to write, and I dedicate my love for writing to her.

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc):  I really enjoy reading fluff, but I enjoy writing angst because I feel I can have a lot more emotions and feels when I write angst.

Favorite piece of your own writing:  My SPN series rewrite. I am currently planning season 7, and I am in the process of releasing season 6. I have gotten so many good reviews of it, and that fuels my passion for it.

Most underrated fic you have written: I can’t think of any at the top of my head. I tend not to look back on my own writing too much. I’ll have an overwhelming need to rewrite it and fix it up, and I don’t need that right now xD

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show: Is it bad to say my series rewrite? It’s already a show, but I’d like to see my version of the show. If I can’t pick that, then my original fiction novel that I wrote that has over 70k words. That would be pretty cool.

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s): @impala-dreamer, @torn-and-frayed, @crispychrissy, @kittenofdoomage, @acreativelydifferentlove, @saxxxology, and there are others, but those are some of the people that come to mind.

Favorite fic from another writer: Can I mention a few? Rock, Paper, Scissors by @impala-dreamer, The Curious Incident of Episode 14x09 by @luci-in-trenchcoats, On the Road by @notnaturalanahi, Cherry Surprise by @crispychrissy, A Change of Scenery by @cass-trash, and On the Case Files (Criminal Minds fandom) by @hotchnerfuckmeup​.

Favorite character to write: For Supernatural, it’ll have to be Dean Winchester. For Marvel, it’ll have to be either Loki or Bucky. For Criminal Minds, it’ll have to be Spencer Reid

Favorite Pairing to write: I only write reader-inserts so the characters don’t really matter as long as it’s x reader.

Least favorite character to write (and why): For Supernatural, it’s Crowley. I don’t know why, but I can never seem to get him right. He’s more sadistic and hardcore sometimes and I just can’t get that right.

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor?  I don’t really have anyone right now. It used to be my teachers/professors, but I graduated and I don’t see them anymore.

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing? I want to be a published author. That’s all I want. I want to see my books on the shelves, and I’d also love to be a fiction editor! I can’t do anything right now because of COVID, but hopefully one day!  

How many work-in-progress stories do you have: More than I can count right now. Like seriously, I probably have over 100. I have a bunch of bingo cards that I have ideas for, but I have so many that they all just pile on. There will come a time when I get through all of them, but I don’t know when.

What are you currently working on?  Right now? Some requests and my spn series rewrite.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing? Like I mentioned above, it’s Ellen Schreiber. She is the one person that made me want to become a writer. Also, all my followers on all of my blogs. They are the truest influencers because they are what gives me passion for my writing.

Best writing advice you've been given: Write as if you’re the only audience. I’ve learned that if you don’t like what you’re writing about, then your audience will certainly see it. You can’t please everyone, so please yourself. There will always be someone who loves your writing for what it is, so don’t go changing it to please others.

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing: Trying to pace myself. I’ve heard of people spending two or three days (or even longer) on a fic. It’s either all or nothing with me. I either spend two or three hours on a fic and complete it right there and then, or I don’t write it at all. Pacing is an issue for me, and I am always trying to spend longer on a fic. I guess I just type really fast, I don’t know.

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction? I find that trying to keep the character as canon as possible is most difficult. While it’s not always super hard, it does have its moments. All fanfiction are AUs, so it’s okay to change the characters to make them your own. While I don’t think one should make them the complete opposite if they are wanting to stay within canon, I do believe it’s okay to change a few things around.

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why): I want to write ships. Now that I think about it, I’m not quite sure why I don’t write them. Maybe it’s time that I start.

What inspires/motivates you to write: Feedback!!! Reader’s don’t always see it, but every piece of feedback I get makes me want to write. I do better knowing there are actual people out there that are looking forward to what I write. I do better knowing that real people are reading them and judging it. I do my best knowing that there is an audience. If I don’t get feedback, then that motivation just goes away.

How do you deal with self doubt: I’m not so sure I always do. There is always a voice in the back of my mind telling me that my stories are complete and utter shit, and I shouldn’t bother writing anything. It’s why I take a step back from writing so often. When I first started my blog, I came out with fics every single day. I was always writing new stories. Now, I may get a story out per week. Maybe two per week. I know when it’s time to take a break for a few days because it gives that voice time to calm down. My best advice for someone dealing with self doubt is to just take a break. Separate yourself from the thing that your mind is telling you that you suck at. Take care of you before jumping back into it. Trust me, it helps.

How do you deal with writer's block: Kind of the same thing as I mentioned above. I have suffered from writer’s block a lot more than in my earlier years. Sometimes, I just don’t have the motivation or the passion to write, and I just get so mad at myself for not doing it. One of the things that help me is writing down my ideas. Yeah, I get ideas that float in my head about stories I’d like to write, but actually writing them down makes them concrete. Then, I am able to make notes and side notes and notes of my notes about what I’d like to happen, and before I know it, I’m writing it.

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: ALWAYS! Always, always, always plan your writing, especially if you’re doing a series. It’s good to know what is going on in your story. You don’t always have to follow it to the exact detail (you’re allowed to make changes as you go), but having a plan makes it easier to get through your story. You’re able to look back at it and remind yourself why you're writing that exact scene or if something needs to be added or taken away from it. If you have a plan, then you’re less likely to lose that passion since you know what’s going to happen. You’re able to see the finish line well before you start.

Do you have any weird writing habits: This may be weird, but I like to listen to Got U On by Darci feat. Nessly, Highest in the Room by Travis Scott, some music by Juice WRLD, and other loud rap songs. Don’t ask me why, but I find the music soothing when I write. Those rap songs sound the same to me, and their voices just drown out so I’m just listening to the music. There are other kinds of music I listen to like piano instrumentals and rain/thunder sounds, but it’s really any song I can tune out.

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it? I don’t want to sound arrogant or snobby, but I can honestly say I’ve never received one hateful comment on anything I’ve written (knock on wood xD). I’ve only received good things about my stories, and I think it has something to do with how much good energy I am putting into the world. I believe in karma, and I tend to be nice to everyone regardless of who they are, and I think it comes back to the kind of comments I receive. However, I always think about what I’d do or say if I’ve ever gotten a hate comment. I wouldn’t encourage them to send more hate, but I wouldn’t apologize either. I write the stories I write because it makes me happy. If they don’t like it, they can go somewhere else. Though, I know those hate comments can get to some people, and here is what I have to say about that: remind yourself of when you actually wrote the fic. If you were truly happy about it, then it shouldn’t matter what that person says. You love it, and that’s all that matters.

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic?  I have to pick a favorite? XD I have an album in my phone of screenshots I took of my favorite comments left by my followers. I’ve been compared to John Green, there have been comments that thank me for giving them an escape from their realities, people have told me they want to write just like me someday, people have told me that my work has made them smile and get chills, that my stories are the highlight of their week, and a bunch of other stuff. I am just shocked that there are people out there who think this. It means so much to me, and I get tears when I read them because this is literally my dream. I can’t thank my followers enough for the comments they leave, and this is exactly why it’s so important to leave feedback.  

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be? Write for you. I can’t stress this enough. I’ve mentioned it before, and I’m going to mention it again. If you’re not happy, it will show through your writing. Your audience will see it based on how you word things and your flow of ideas. On another note, please brush up on your grammar. I can’t tell you how many times I read such an interesting summary, and noticed the story was full of grammatical mistakes. It made me not want to read it anymore. I’m sure it was a great story, but I didn’t want to put myself through that just to read it.

[airplanned]

Zelda Advent Calendar Story

Chapter 1...Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The first festival was the often overlooked Fast of Wisdom, where the pious showed their devotion to Nayru through service and self-reflection.  It was a two-day event, which was on a Tuesday and Wednesday this year, meaning it would be even less well attended than usual.  There was a day of community service, followed by a a night of prayer, fasting, and reflection, followed by another day of service and then a large feast to celebrate your blessings.  The majority of people only celebrated the feast.  The next most popular way to celebrate was to donate funds and goods as their act of service.  It was rare for people to volunteer all day both days.

As such, Zelda had arranged a winter-clothes drive on the first day, with volunteer opportunities for people to sort and deliver the clothes. People could donate canned food, and people could volunteer to inspect and sort the food, preparing sandwiches and bagged meals.  The next day would be one of the busiest days of the year at the soup kitchen, and Zelda had arranged not only for there to be a large feast, but also a wide array of services available.  There was going to be a mobile physical heath truck and a couple of social workers ready to help.  She had representatives from all the support groups that used the temple ready to hand out fliers and talk to people.  She invited one of the Gate Town librarians who coordinated the GED classes and the job application classes and the computer literacy classes.  

On top of this two day gauntlet of service opportunities, Zelda had to preside over a very long worship service that night, which she had thankfully prepared for a full week in advance.

And then on top of all this, there was a blood drive, because there had been a blood drive every year that Rauru had been Sage of Light and he would not relinquish that tradition, even though he did nothing to coordinate it.

When she got there in the morning at 7:00, there were already people waiting to drop off coats and gloves.  There were already people waiting to pick up a coat.  From the second she stepped out of her car, she was working.  The interns who were supposed to do the brunt of the day-of coordination don't arrive until 8:00, and by then there was enough to do for three people.  There was enough work for four people by the time Claree came in.  The sanctuary was busy, which was both fulfilling and sad. 

At one point, she had to rush back to the kitchen to put out both an emotional and a literal fire.

To Zelda’s surprise, when she come back to the sanctuary and the folding tables of sorted outerwear, Link had taken her place at the front table with Claree, who was laughing as if he'd said something funny.  He grinned before leaning in and murmuring something that made her laugh more.  When a man stepped up to their table, Link lifted his eyebrows in question and then hunted through the coats.  As Zelda got closer, she distinctly heard Link say, "Here you go."

Apparently, he could speak.  He just didn't speak to her.

He smiled at her when she stepped up to the table and took a step back. 

"Back to the mines?" Claree asked, which caused him to roll his head back and groan good naturally. 

"Is it that bad?" Zelda asked, maybe a bit desperate to be part of the fun.

Link nodded.  Claree said, "Jovani was entering the online giving into the books all wrong!"

Zelda spun on him, but he just shrugged, pressed his fingers into a triangle, and walked backwards a few steps before turning and heading back to his office.

"I like him," Claree said.

"He does seem competent," Zelda said.

"Wow, don't complement him too much, I'll get jealous."

Zelda elbowed her, and Claree laughed.

Chapter 6

[cora-the-dramatic]

BNHA_WAXQUIRK_OC

[semi-coerent ramblings]

The Candle Wax Hero: Soybean(name under revision lmao)

Name: Hirose Kaoru(First name means fragrance)

Appearance:??

Parents:??

Quirk: Wax, can make wax constructs, like the wax-wax devil fruit. Is low-key about her powers, makes people think that she can make and most a shed or small house when she can totally make concrete-strong apartments out of wax. Keys, rapped fire sharp wax projecticles, wax armour, wax prison, etc. When she overuses her quirk her hair catches fire, she gets a fever, a headache, desidrated, and all around exhausted but unable to sleep.

Personality:??

Dream: To be an average gal pal hero, who absolutely does not know ANY weird shit at all, no sirr. (She wants to help people, but also wants to live happily, and boringly.)

-----000-----

-Has her own agency.

-Is not low-key, but not flashy either

-Very oblivious to people's admiration, but when she notices fells flattered and happy.

-doesn't check out other heroes or the rankings very often. Normally only watches the top 15, and *maybe* top50 heroes.

-When she is interviewed she goes on long ramblings about what she's doing to help the community, why it's important, why other heroes should do it, and how civilians can help. When confronted with any prejudice she completely derails the show, extolling about the difficulties of mutation-types, villainous quirks, weak quirks and the quirkless. The reporters that thought she was timid or just a pretty face are barreled over by her oblivious essay-reading talks, minimizing or completely eliminating the chance for gossip, publicity or drama. Because of it she becomes a meme and internet celebrity, as well as a small idol for the victimized and villainized people; also because she's completely hilarious, as well as posting her essays, articles, and funding online(only eventually noticing that they get money). Unfortunately she only goes there to use it as a public journal as well as an awareness platform.

-she absolutely does not notice when she gets to the top 200.

-She does not have a lot of official merc, but they're all practical and come for all body types and mutations, being all types of quirk-prof and coming quite cheap. It ends up being used as a cheap, durable, affordable clothing by all.

-She volunteers stuff, what most would do to public service punishment, chatting with people, discussing stuff, helping around the community. Playing with kids, volunteering in hospitals, picking up trash, cleaning trash heaps with her quirk(compresion), occasionally cleaning the streets and helping around in general, Making support beans and just helping around in general. Not being flashily like that.

-she influences others to do more too. To do more community service, to have their own honest vloggings and posts. To volunteer and help.

-she gets a minor rival(?) who tries to out-do her by doing all the community service, Kaoru instead thanks them, said she admires them and obliviously one-ups them by opening like, a school or something, idk

-Uses a mask? Maybe? Either that or she's always been recognized.

-helps out with underground stuff when she can

-Is publicly disappointed in both the commission and Endeavour.

-Publicly says she doesn't like all might, or rather, what he represents.

-loves boba tea.

-has a side job of selling candles. Bethey big and artistic, small and compact, they're all pretty.

-Secrets keep being dumped on her lap, she doesn't like this.

-She believes she's succeeding in being lowkey. She is ABSOLUTELY not.

-She does not attend the annual gala  for top 200. Everybody is surprised. She's invited by the top interviewers, and ends up rambling about how she kinda wishes she could have gone and its moments like these that she wishes she were a top 200. Everybody kinda stalls at that. And realizes that she is, in fact, not kidding. They make her look it up online and her face is meme-worthy.

-interviewer: why didn't you go to the gala

 Her: i'm not a top200, but i wish

 Interviewer: you are, in fact, a top200

 Her:???what?????

-Is invited to do presentations at school

-is publicly suspicious of the commission.

-post{ uh, does anybody think Hawks is an overworked baby or is it just me??? #givethismanahug #getsomesleephawks #mycomissionsensesaretingling #newfannammeforhawks:babybird}

-post{congratulations again to endeavour for completely analihating a villain that had three broken ribs, a concussion, malnutrition and was having a flashback due to accidental misuse of quirk after being assaulted by a hero using exercise force for stealing groceries! Great job, buddy! #flamingtrash}

-post{...i'm halfway tempted to sue UA for this shit. @LordExplosionmurder if you want some lawyer contacts just hit me up. #whyisthisbabychainedup??? #unnecessary #unjust}

-private text{ Soybean: Hey! It's pro hero Soybean, I'm wondering if you're okay after the shit you went through at the festival? If i can help in any way or if you just want to chat, hit me up!}

-post{actual serious essay about why ua action was bad after info gathering. Hoping they change ways and policies, and that this never happens again.}

-post{everyone that thinks those 1-A kids need therapy say aye! #omg #therapy #lookatallthesetraumatisedbabies Comments: Soybean: AYE! *fixed*}

-post{ i never feel as gay as i do as when i see Miruku destroy villain ass #powerfull #beautiful #shelooksatmeandillDIE}

-agency growns.

------0000------

Story outline{ imma be following cliche movie shit that i hate. Imma use the flashbacksies}

Chp1: •Dramatic inner monologue on a roof. Is a hero, achieved all she wanted in life, has her own agency. Hears a sound and goes to fight villain, she accesses the situation, form a climax/tension->

•flashback/past, The day she knew she would become a hero.

•(?)interceding flashes of past and present of her determination to be a hero(beat the villains ass ayyy, ends with a flash of the future(?)

Chp2: •Description of her day, painfully detailed, as boring as possible, end in cheerful note about how she loves how boring it is, and how for her its not boring at all. Description includes how her agency works, how it interacts with nearby agencies, what the status is for the neighbourhoods in general, how the crime rate is, compares it to other crime rates for other villains and hero's areas. Talk about her small number of employees and how she found them, briefly. Talk about where she sleeps, if its in an apartment, if it's in the office, where both are located and about the neighbours. Talk about the neighbours, about their clothes and their voices and how she feels about them, all in that satisfied this-is-normal-and-i-love-it kind of way. Talk about if she has a pet, about her apartment, touch briefly about something that reminds her of hero school, continue describing her apartment and the things there. Move on to what she's gonna eat, from where, what fast food and groceries, about how she thinks about food and who or if she shares her meals with. Have her have an idea for the community in general and head to bed.

•Flashback that surrounds the item that made her remember something. It needs to be something that makes her bittersweet. Like how her school was full of assholes, and that her teacher didn't like her because she was either too quiet or too loud, how she poked at too many sore spots and was bullied for it. Talk about a grand event similar to the sports festival at UA, and how a teacher -just tease, maybe don't even properly name- encouraged her to be better, and made her actually put up a fight, despite considering herself a coward at the time, and ended up getting 3rd place. Finish with her hurt, in pain but staring her bullies and the people who defeated her(maybe someone with something similar to pain quirk) down(also bullies?).

Chp3: •Describe in painful detail about her day to day school life. Her first year or second. Describe the building, if its dorm system or home-to-school system, describe what she sees on her way there, and the people she talks to. Talk about her bullies and the victims, and the people who watch, talk about the other classes and someone she admires at school, who she wishes she would talk to if she only had the courage. Talk about the teachers, how they interact, talk about her favorite teacher and how he helps her so much and how he takes care of her.

[avieelliot]

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: aveline rosemary fox-harker (changed her surname to elliot once she got to america)

Nickname: avie

Race: white

Ethnicity: french, german

Nationality: english (UK)

Age: 34

APPEARANCE & MANNERISMS

Hair: straight, chestnut brown, reaches her shoulders

Eyes: blue-grey on the outside, hazel around the irises (central heterochromia)

Skin: fair and smooth

Height: 5'2" (157cm)

Build: slender, soft

Scent: jasmine

Gait: leisurely pace, often stops to literally smell roses, or just stare at a pretty view

Clothing/Style: flowy lines, muted colours, soft fabrics (silk, cashmere)

Style of Speech: soft, light voice, but commanding. like you know you’re supposed to stop and listen.

Key Possessions: she has very little attachment to material things. her dogs are her life.

CITIZENSHIP

Social Status: well liked, but little known

Occupation: veterinarian / sanctuary owner

Education: Doctor of Veterinary Medicine degree

Residence: a quaint little apartment in a century home

PERSONALITY

Likes: animals, nature, good food, good wine, good conversation, walks in the woods, quiet meditation, stargazing

Dislikes: instability, dishonesty, greed, money, power, being told what to do

Hobbies: working at the animal sanctuary, volunteering at shelters, reading

Personality Summary: kind, altruistic, nurturing, guarded, stubborn, afraid

RELATIONSHIPS

Friends/Allies: TBD

Enemies/Rivals: Alessandro Di Natale, her ex-husband, most men.

Family: estranged from her disinterested parents and her long-lost brother

Romantic Interest: TBD

Pets: three rescue dogs, named Flora (a golden), Fauna (a husky mix), and Merryweather (english bulldog)

BIOGRAPHY

tw: child neglect

Nothing in Aveline’s life has ever been particularly stable, but the one comforting constant in her childhood was everyone always insisting that everything was completely fine. Her parents, devastated to be born a decade or two late to the hippie movement, dove headfirst into 80’s political activism - violence in the name of peace, or something along those lines. He went by Barkley Fox, she went by Buttercup Harker. They met during a riot, and they never slowed down.

Aveline herself was… a surprise, to say the least. Her parents were young and wild and free, but not quite smart enough to realize a child would change that. Or rather, that a child should change that. It didn’t change much for Buttercup and Barkley, who brought tiny Aveline to riots with them, smiling for the photojournalists, and reassuring nosy child welfare workers that everything was, as always, completely fine.

Sure, sometimes they forgot to pick her up from school until the sun had set, and they went on “vacations” to war zones, and she saw much more than any ten year old child should see the time they couldn’t find a babysitter and brought her to the Filthy Lucre tour. And yeah, maybe sometimes they went out and didn’t feed her, or they tried to cure infections with leaves and tree bark, or she missed a couple months of school here and there… but everything was fine, they had it all under control. She was a free spirited child, like them.

Needless to say, everything was not completely fine. Aveline wasn’t fine. She was lonely, and scared, and small. She was forgotten about by the people who were supposed to love her most. The only reason she ever learned what real love was, is because her grandmother (with whom her parents would often drop her for undisclosed amounts of time) had an animal sanctuary.

The animals were hurt. Wounded birds, orphaned squirrels, that kind of thing. They were small, and scared, and lonely. Forgotten about by most of the world. Aveline’s previously unused heart filled up with the love of these tiny helpless creatures, and she found her calling.

When she was eleven, another tiny helpless creature was dropped in Aveline’s lap. His name was Elliot Fox-Harker - her new baby brother. Their parents didn’t know what to do with him any more than they’d known what to do with her. But she was old enough to babysit now, they decided. So they left their oldest child alone to parent their infant. Avie was overwhelmed, and even more scared than before. Somehow, she kept Elliot alive - with the help of their brilliant grandmother. But she was a baby herself, and their grandmother was blind, and it took three years before anyone noticed that Elliot couldn’t hear them. He was deaf.

Aveline was fifteen then. She knew what she had to do. She called the NSPCC Helpline and reported her own parents for child endangerment. The people who came to rescue her brother ripped him, screaming, from her arms, and though she knew she’d done the right thing, to this day, she can’t escape the guilt of that. Elliot was the only person in the world who loved her and needed her, and she let him down. She loved him as much as she resented their parents, so when she moved to America, she changed her last name for him.

She was sent to live with family in Brooklyn, and really struggled to finish high school there. The distraction of her guilt and sadness mixed with the combined years of school she’d missed in her tumultuous childhood meant she was constantly behind... but she put all of her time and energy into studying. The other students in New York were interested in her - they saw her as a mystery of a person with a pretty face and a cute accent, and were fascinated - but she couldn’t relate to any of them. They wanted her to go to parties and pep rallies, but the only person she found herself relating to at all was the weird quiet kid with his walkman on.

After graduation, she went back to England and studied veterinary medicine in London, almost reaching the top of her class. Almost. Top 5%, anyway. But it was an incredible achievement for someone who statistically shouldn’t have survived childhood. She was on top of the world when she graduated... until she realized that she had no idea where to go from there. She was entirely alone in, and besides wanting to be a vet and not wanting to think about her family, she’d never had any real plans. Her mind reeled with images of herself turning into her parents - lost and forever wandering - and she panicked… until she met The One.

He was American - the CEO of his own company, a self-made man. He was gorgeous and charming and driven and best of all: he was stable. She figured the best decision she could make in her life would be to find someone who craved the same stability and authenticity she needed, and to be a team. The exact opposite of her parents. So when he proposed, she said yes.

And when every red flag in the world popped up and waved itself in her face, she smiled, went to work, and constantly insisted that everything was… completely fine.

She had a job she loved, her own veterinary practice in Portland, Maine, a big goofy dog named Flora, and what she thought was real love. She was happy. All the warning signs and nagging thoughts were just echoes of her parents’ voices telling her she needed to be free, and she shouldn’t tie herself down. She wouldn’t listen. She didn’t listen. For seven years, she went through the motions, comatose, hibernating, putting up with more bullshit from him than even her parents could carry. Then one day he came home from a business trip. He’d barely set his bags down when she said it.

“I know you don’t love me. And I know you never really did.”

She was talking to him, but she also saw her parents as she said it.

Everything broke, then. He broke, she broke, the walls that they’d both been carefully building, the personas they’d been curating, all of it, just crashed to the ground with a violent, angry, thunderous bang.

She tried to move on. After the divorce finalized, she tried to have hope, and to try again to find the stable, true, safe Forever Love she still believed was out there. She met a beautiful boy named Alessandro, reeling from heartbreak himself, and thought that maybe this time it could last. He made her feel beautiful, and wanted, for the first time, really, ever... and then he broke her heart.

She gave up entirely after that. She moved to Boston with Flora, adopted two more dogs (Fauna and Merryweather) and poured herself once again into work and nothing else. The animals were the only important thing - they could bite her, but they couldn’t break her heart. She was kind to people, but kept them at a distance, not willing to risk falling into the trap of love again.

Earlier this year, she was offered a job at Familiar Friend Veterinary Clinic, and moved to Salem. She’s has opened her own animal sanctuary for hurt/abandoned pets and wildlife in the area, and has even ventured to make a friend or two. She’s wounded, but in rehabilitation, and she’s sure she’ll fly again soon.

[chessdaze]

Three Wishes Institute - a TWST fanschool

I’ve been posting ALOT about three wishes character wise but I wanted to do a bit of a lore dump on the school itself, and then maybe make some separate posts for things like the dorm environments, uniforms, clubs, etc.

First off, as a concept, Three Wishes is a fanschool for twisted wonderland that involves characters that are considered ‘side’ or ‘background’ or even ‘comic relief’ characters from disney franchises. Right now I only have 6 dorms, and characters range from being on both ‘good’ and ‘bad’ sides of a story.

Here’s the lore rundown for the main school itself and a brief summary on the dorms and characters I will be designing for them. Under readmore cause this is HELLA long and I don’t want to make people scroll for forever:

The overall story of Three Wishes:

The Headmistress and Master, Amelia Bell and Reed Dearly (based on Anita and Roger from 101 dalmatians), only recently got the school property. Before them, the school was known to be really rundown, a failure, and pretty much on the verge of closing. While it was a school for magic, it was like all the magic was zapped out of the school itself. It was filled with delinquents and very few students who actually cared. Most dropped out if anything.

Amelia was a teacher at the school for a little over a year and the only teacher that students really respected and bothered showing up to class for. She hated seeing the school in the state it was in and tried pleading with the headmistress of the school to try and change things - however was constantly told it was too late and that the school would be closing. It did, and Amelia had to look for jobs elsewhere. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she could have done more and found herself drawn back to the crumbling school on more than one occasion. She decided to sneak in one day to see if she could find a hint of anything from the old headmistress - who had disappeared without a trace - to see if she could get in contact with her. This wasn’t her idea of course, but her (boyfriend at the time) Reed’s.

Eventually they did track down the headmistress and found her terribly ill. Amelia insisted that the two of them care for her, despite all that the headmistress had done to shun Amelia beforehand. They did, and during that time Amelia explained the hopes she had previously had for the school - she said how she wanted a school that anyone could feel welcome to apply, and not have some special ceremony for acceptance (like the carriages for NRC). She believed people could be equals and that as a magical community they should all help one another. The old headmistress was moved by Amelia’s words and when she back to health she revealed herself to be a powerful sorceress (the enchantress from Beauty and the Beast). She explained she had been looking for a worthy successor for the school and her magic but didn’t find Amelia fitting at the time, but saw the kindness in Amelia’s heart and offered her the deed to the school and the surrounding grounds. She wanted to see what Amelia would do with the school and was interested if she could really bring a community together like she explained. Then, she disappeared.

Amelia and Reed worked to renovate the school, taking nearly 2 years on the project. Amelia comes from a wealthy family, but even then funds were not endless, so a lot of fundraising was done to also raise awareness for the reopening school. At first there wasn’t much interest but it slowly got more and more traction. With donations and family money, they were able to complete the school. The two of them also got engaged during this time. Even with them rebuilding the mainschool and doing some maintenance on the dorms themselves, there are some secrets that even the two of them are still learning, as the sorceress took off before giving them the full details on the school itself.

The school’s aim is to not only teach its students magic, but the foundation of being a good person, being helpful and selfless. The school holds a lot of community and fundraising events, and there is even a mandatory volunteering class where students have to spend a certain amount of hours volunteering for a local community service. This school hopes to bridge the gap between the elite and average magic users, showing that deep down everyone is human and deserving of respect and a chance to grow.

This school doesn't have completely different areas for the dorms and it's all actually located on a large campus ground.The main school building is about 4 stories, there's a greenhouse and an auditorium in separate buildings.

The dorms are all two or three stories and are all relatively distant from each other, enough to give each dorm a good spot of land around it. Think a mansion with a large yard. When passing through the front gate for the dorm there's magic that makes it appear in a slightly different scenery - so the students don't always have the school looming in the background and can relax. The dorm's scenery is different between each dorm and it can change with each 'dorm representative'.

There aren't really dorm 'leaders' as there are representatives. Normally about two or three for each dorm - though can only be one if the person proves themselves to be capable / no one else is voted. Each dorm will have a meeting once a month to go over things that the dorm needs to address either internally or with the school or other dorms, and then the representatives bring those concerns to a meeting with the school's staff and other dorm representatives. Think more like a student council and class presidents.

The dorm reps can be split into the 'main' representative and a 'vice' but are pretty much on the same ground as far as their authority goes - the 'main' is just the one more available to perform duties or attend all the meetings while the 'vice' is kind of like a back up /fall back if the first can't make it. Normally it’s preferable if all representatives can make to meetings and events. The representatives make almost all decisions together. Reps are voted for each year within a dorm, and the voting is taken pretty seriously.

The dorm rep duties outside of the meetings is mostly just like a college RA. They make sure people are following the rules, help solve problems between students in their dorm, plan and hold events, etc.

The dorms:

This section I’ll be updating overtime as I list out the characters I want to design - most are still not designed yet as I’m kind of slow but I have concepts for all of them more or less it’s just a matter of getting time / energy to work on them.

While students are separated into dorms in this school, the headmaster and mistress try to stress the fact that they are all one community. Friendly rivalry is encouraged but ultimately the matter of dorms is just where the students end up living and placing them near people who can better help those around them. The two in charge don’t want the dorms to become too competitive or to alienated from one another - so there’s actually a lot of cross dorm events and even friends staying over at other friends dorms for days on end at times.

As a note, as long as it’s not inappropriate, students are encouraged to wear anything they want as their ‘dorm uniform’. Standard school uniforms are required on the main campus but as Headmaster Reed puts it - there’s no reason for them to tell the students what to wear in their own house. Plus, the school isn’t as well funded as most other private schools, so not having a lot of uniforms to keep up with is better for them in the long run. Most generally follow the general color coordination of their dorms (to be listed later), though there are exceptions.

* ‘s indicate that dorm’s representatives

Cinderella dorm: Nightingale Founded on the hard work and dedication of a princess’s companions, members of this dorm are no strangers to teamwork and getting the job done. It’s said that there’s no miracle students in this dorm can’t pull off in a short amount of time.

Characters:

Rue Meadows  *

Snow White: Diamanttobar Founded on the tradition and devotion of miners, members of this dorm specialize in working long hours and putting 100% into everything they do. Students here notice the smaller details in anything and are said to be able to craft nearly anything asked.

Characters:

Otto Bregmann*

Emil Bregmann

the other dwarves are going to be referenced as their younger siblings.

Aladdin: Wondrous Founded on the cleverness and protective instincts of a royal couple’s most trusted confidants, members of this dorm sometimes have questionable methods but overall have hearts of gold. Students in this dorm are proactive in calling out unfair rules and try to work for changes and reforms.

Characters:

Ram / Kunal *

Ozan Bell

Zeki Al-Asim

Mulan: Guardian Found on the honor and strength of dragons, students of this dorm are known to follow a code of honor and are very protective of one another. They are great with helping other student’s physical and mental well beings, acting as trainers and confidants.

Characters:

Long Lie Jie*

Xiao Mingyu*

AiW: Lapinhole Founded on the curiosity and madness of a queen’s subjects, members of this dorm are known to be eccentric and creative. A lot of students in this dorm are mysterious and have a strange method of helping others, but even through the confusion a lot of students rely on students from this dorm for a little more fun in their lives.

Characters:

Quinn Neander *

Beauty and the Beast: Servireu Founded on the faith and loyalty of a Beast prince’s servants, members of this dorm are known to be generous, not judgemental, and extremely helpful. A lot of these students are at the top of their classes and are known for being excellent tutors for others.

Characters:

TBA

[aty-altiria]

No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME

Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building 

Word count: 2470

Universe: My Hero Academia, Harry Potter

Pairings: Fem!Harry/Present Mic

Rating: T

Themes: Collapsed Building, Panic Attack, Background Character Death

Summary: Hizashi didn’t track his days by good or bad, he just lived them. He never allowed a bad moment to ruin his mood, or the rest of what could be a potentially amazing day. But even Hizashi could admit… that particular day, though it started off good, was one of the worst in his life.

@whumptober2020 

---

Hizashi knew from experience that the worst of days typically started off like any other day. There wasn't anything poetic about them, no stormy sky that screamed ‘run,’ no ominous music, no blatant signs saying that maybe he shouldn't go to work that day. The worst days weren't heralded by anything out of the ordinary—no rain at funerals, no tragic music to go with a hospital visit. There's was no sign. Nothing that told Hizashi that day would be unlike any other.

That particular morning started that same as the one before it. Hizashi woke second, he always did. Hizashi Yamada was, personally, an early bird. His jobs often kept him up late, so he often had trouble waking up. Hizashi needed sleep so severely due to his careers that he was to the point of needing seven different alarms. He'd sleep through everyone before his lovely wife finally turned them off and woke him up herself. By that point, coffee was already made - his goddess of a wife was the best at brewing it - and breakfast ready for them both.

"Tomorrow you sleep in, I'll do breakfast!" He had emphasized the comment with a swing of his arm that would have sent coffee across the room and right into Holly's face. Thankfully for them both, she had long ago carved runes in all their cups to prevent precisely that. As it was, Holly, an early bird herself, simply smiled with indulgence. Because as much as Hizashi wanted to do that - and did when the opportunity presented itself - they both knew he worked three jobs and wouldn't have the time. His positions as a teacher, pro-hero, and radio host stole all his time; honestly, there weren't enough hours in the day. Plenty of partners hadn't been able to handle it in his past and that Holly could made him even more willing to keep her. Holly was understanding and had her own interests that kept her busy, which Hizashi was glad for.

Holly was kept busy with things like her work as an ambassador for the magical community and the classes she taught in Mahoutokoro and her volunteer work. Between the two of them, it was a miracle they saw each other at all during the day, yet they managed. Holly would frequently visit UA, so much so that the kids knew her by sight, and she'd have lunch with him. They always made an effort to have breakfast together. And he'd sneak constant phone calls during song breaks at the radio-station. They made it work, so Hizashi thought nothing of the typical morning full of the regular routine.

In fact, things seemed to be shaping up to be a fantastic day because Holly would be bringing him - and Shouta - lunch after her meeting downtown. Hizashi even managed to convince Holly to spontaneously dance in their kitchen as the radio played one of their many songs before leaving. The lyrics absolutely didn't match them, but the music played when they'd first met, so Hizashi treasured it.

Hizashi left for work on time and didn't meet up with any traffic - a nice perk to marrying a witch, instant teleportation to his office at the school. Then Holly kissed him a fond farewell, playfully set a coffee beside the bundle that was Shouta, dodged the slap on the butt that Nemuri tried to catch Holly with, and vanished with a crack.

It was a good morning, and Hizashi was still smiling by his second lesson, the one before noon and his lunch-date with Holly.

It was a typical day.

And then Kaminari yelped in surprise in the middle of class. For the last ten minutes he'd been hiding his phone in his lap. He clearly thought Hizashi was blind and hadn't noticed that Kaminari was smiling into his crotch, which wouldn't have surprised him. Hizashi had left the boy to it out of the sheer laziness. Either way, the teen had gasped none too quietly and dragged the attention of the entire classroom. It had been a rare moment of silence ironically; otherwise, no one would have noticed-

He wouldn't have known-

"What's up, Denki?" That was Jiro thinking she was subtle in whispering under breath, which she was, but that was only because Hizashi was virtually deaf without his hearing aids. So technically speaking, he'd read the girl's lips.

"Yes, share with the class." Hizashi prompted as he casually leaned against the blackboard.

Kaminari flinched, paled, and looked up all at once. The sheepish expression grew from there, and the boy slowly pulled his phone out to present it. "Sorry sensei, it's just… there was a villain attack downtown, and it looks pretty bad."

The first thought in Hizashi's head at that moment was, if the attack was bad enough, he'd have known about it long before the news crews did. His second thought was: 'Holly is downtown.' The third was that he had Kaminari's phone in hand, and he hadn't even realized he was moving until it was.

"Sorry! I won't look at my phone again-… sensei?"

A woman was reporting, she was in a chopper over a collapsed building. He could see the surrounding area, see that the top sixteen floors had crushed the lower ones. The building had been destroyed until it was a third of its original height. Dozens of fires had started, and the reporter was warning the audience about graphic content, then the camera panned toward a collection of bloody smears which had been people- the villain was- a quirk that- red feathers rescued civilians- Holly worked in-

Hizashi knew that building.

"Sensei?!"

"He's freaking out…"

"Someone go get-"

"Present Mic? Are you alright-"

The building sat right beside Holly's, but Holly's was magic, so it was spelled to prevent Muggles from seeing it, from knowing about it. Hizashi only knew it existed because he'd been there. Holly had walked him through the barrier and given him a charm that protected his mind from Muggle-repellent charms.

"-Mic-"

Her building was right beside that one. It was buried underneath sixteen floors, which had landed right where it should be. No one, absolutely no one but a person with magic would have any idea that they were there. No one knew to rescue her- his wife- his-

"Hizashi!"

The blow stung, but it helped him refocus on Shouta. His best friend was staring Hizashi down with a hand still raised from the slap he'd just given Hizashi. Behind him were the kids, panicked, concerned, and ready for action. They were put-together despite their pro-hero teacher having a complete break down over a news report. And Hizashi, at one point he'd fallen to his knees- he'd also cracked the screen of Kaminari's phone- and Holly-

"Holly," he choked out, trying to stand- why wasn't his legs- he couldn't feel them-

"Hizashi focus, tell me what's wrong." Shouta was unflappably calm; he was steady when Hizashi's world shook. "What about Holly?"

"Her building," his words came out more like a whimper than anything, and it caused several of the more empathetic kids to flinch. Hizashi wasn't in the right mind to care either, not when his wife was likely-

"Kids come on, let's leave them-" that was Nemuri, when had she gotten there?

"I'm not leaving!"

"Maybe we can help!"

"Back off extra!"

Hizashi forced himself to focus and turned the cracked phone toward Shouta to explain: "Holly's building is beside this one, but she has a spel-" -that was a secret- "protections on it to prevent it from being located. No one will know to save her-" Shouta took the phone, pulled it from Hizashi's grip and focused on the location. His eyes glazed slightly, and Hizashi realized the charm worked beyond in person; it also worked across video footage. He quickly reached for his charm; it could help Shouta focused. They'd need it.

"Then we have to go!" Iida piped up, "we can assist in searching and rescuing the people trapped in this building!"

"We'll have to figure out how to find it, though, if we can't see it without prior knowledge? Unless the quirk works differently-"

"There's no time for talking; any second we waste here is another moment that more people could die! We should move out now."

"Its downtown," Tsuyu tried to calm the group, "our efforts are better spent contacting the heroes present to tell them of the building."

"My internship was near there, I can contact the group there to assist."

Hizashi managed a breath as the kids sped into action. They worked together instantly with the briefest bit of information. As Shouta stood and corralled them, gave them individual jobs as Nemuri took position on the floor beside him.

"I can't stay here…" he choked out, and she nodded.

"The kids are already going to tell Nedzu. Come on, my car is nearby. We can drive there together."

It may be pointless, it may be too late- Hizashi felt sick at the thought, but no comforting word would help him then. Nothing could make this better but Holly back, safe and sound, in his arms.

—

Holly woke up with Hizashi tucked so close to her that they almost blended into one person. Holly was instantly comforted by the feel on his beard, unshaved for several days, on her arm, and his hand tangled up around her body. Any tension built in awakening quickly evaporated as she realized she was alive, and Hizashi was safe with her.

Holly exhaled slowly and took in the hospital room. The first thing she noticed was that it was magical, which meant Hizashi had purposely ensured she was brought there. Which likely meant Holly had been far worse off than initially assessed. Still, considering the last Holly remembered, she had been trapped and unable to feel her lower body before blacking out… well, Holly found relief that she could currently wiggle her toes. She wasn't paralyzed.

"It was Hizashi that pulled you out."

Holly flinched minutely and shot a look to Hizashi; with the bags under his eyes, she did not want to wake him up, she knew at a glance that he needed rest. Hizashi continued to breathe slowly, and she relaxed long enough to address the speaker. The voice had startled her only because Holly hadn't noticed Shouta' napping' in the corner. It was a sign of how out of it she still was that he hadn't seen the bright yellow sleeping back to her left. That and she was honestly surprised Shouta had been allowed inside the magical hospital; he'd likely pretended to be a squib or Hizashi's relative to manage it. She could believe it, Shouta knew about magic for as long as he'd known about her, even though he technically wasn't allowed too.

"We contacted the heroes present in the collapse, but none of them could see the building." Shouta slowly started to climb from his sleeping bag, "something I think your people need to work on, secrecy or not."

"I don't disagree," she pointed out. Holly had been one of the leading voices in Muggle heroes being allowed to know about them. For rescue cases such as the one she'd gotten involved it or in the case of a hero finding a magical kid out of control. If they were to and treat a thing like that like a quirk, it could be a disaster. Not the mention that the fact that 'quirkless' didn't exist anymore and society had no idea. No clue that 'quirkless' children were actually magical ones. Not that her people were better at telling, Holly could name two people she personally knew missed by the magical warning system.

"Hmm," Shouta yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth, "we arrived with some of the kids, damned brats insisted on coming. Had a full mutiny on my hands because of you." Not that he disapproved. The brats had their hero licenses now, so they were allowed legally to assist. Midoriya had been specifically helpful as the wards didn't affect him. "It's annoying to be attempting to rescue people only to forget why I needed to. Not to mention having to grab Todoroki because he went running into traffic because he forgot the 'toaster' was on in the dorms."

Holly's sheepish expression grew even if it wasn't her fault.

Shouta just stared her down. "Midoriya was the one who located you, and Hizashi pulled you from the rubble where he insisted upon driving you here because your legs were mangled." She flinched, and Shouta's mad grin grew, but he couldn't disguise the worry in his eyes, "that was four days ago."

"And the casualties?"

"Sixteen, including both buildings… smaller than originally projected. Many survived thanks to a few nearby witches." Holly leaned her head back and felt Hizashi shift, he curled in closer to her, and she tightened the grip she had on his hand. He'd been holding hers while she'd been out, unmoving while she slept. "You worried him."

"I… didn't mean to."

"I know, and so does he," Shouta stood and started to roll up his sleeping bag, "though just so you've been warned, Nedzu intends to force him on vacation after this. Better take advantage of it… you both deserve one." With that, he slipped from the room, leaving Holly and Hizashi be.

Holly turned slowly once the door was closed; she looked at Hizashi and the stress in his sleeping face. She hated to see it, hated to know she'd caused it.

Hoping to relax his brow, she reached up and ran a figure along the pinch there. Like she'd used magic, Hizashi relaxed, and his sleep looked far gentler. The expression did it; Holly felt the tears begin to fall as she gave in to the fear she hadn't dared feel while she'd been pinned. The terror that she'd be forced to leave Hizashi, to pass on without him. She'd thought, believed for an instant that she'd never see him again, never do another lunch-date, never fall asleep together, never dancing to their many songs-

"Holly," Hizashi's fingers carefully wiped the tears falling along her cheeks. He had no words, and neither did she, but they didn't truly need them. Not as Hizashi held her tight, and they both acknowledged the terror and the relief that they'd made it.

[sunlightdances]

Focal Point

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Prompt: “What’s with this…sassy lost child?” Rating/warnings: PG. Warnings for Bucky being a cocky idiot.  Summary: You take PR photos for Pepper Potts and are semi-successfully navigating your giant, unavoidable crush on one James Buchanan Barnes.  Author’s Note: This is for @kentuckybarnes’ 3k writing challenge! Congrats, Hannah, and thanks for hosting! As always, please don’t repost my work on any other sites (wattpad, ao3, etc.) without my permission. Reblogs are gold!

Links are broken - you can find my full Bucky master list on my blog! May not work for some mobile users. Sorry!

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You’re standing off to one side as Bucky and Sam answer a few questions from the small crowd gathered, mostly kids and their parents. Sam, as always, is re-telling the PG events from their last mission with blistering enthusiasm, leaving Bucky shaking his head.

It doesn’t matter - the kids are eating it up. It’s times like this you really love your job. You’re… you don’t know what your official job title is, actually. There are days when you’re not even sure if you’re technically employed by Stark Industries, or The Avengers, or some other secret organization. All you know is that one day you showed up to volunteer at an event for Pepper Potts, and the next thing you know, you’re at all the events. You take photos, you help make sure they stick to schedule, and essentially make sure they’re in the right place at the right time. It’s public relations, but it doesn’t feel like that a lot of the time. They make you feel like you fit in, like you’re a friend.

This event in particular is your favorite - at a local children’s hospital, shaking hands and spending time with the kids. Pepper arranges it so the team can do it a few times a year if they can, and their visit is always anticipated by kids and their parents.

It’s anticipated by you, too, because-- you’re not dumb, these superheroes are somehow more attractive when they’re accompanied by small children.

Now, Bucky is crouched down next to a little girl, his eyes lighting up as she tells him a story, her arms flailing as she goes, and he nods and oohs and ahhs at all the appropriate points. It’s adorable, and you feel yourself blushing when he glances over and catches you staring. But really-- how else are you supposed to react? He winks, like he’s conspiring with you somehow, and it makes you feel… things. You turn away quickly before you look like an even bigger idiot.

You snap a few photos for parents and a few shots to send to Pepper, and then you’re all piling in the van to go back home, and you back to work. You have an office in the Avengers compound, which doubles as Stark Industries these days.

“Make sure you send me those photos of my good side,” Sam says from the backseat, and you smirk.

“Which side is that?” You ask, laughing when you hear Bucky and Steve’s reaction - a loud laugh from Steve and a surprised noise from Bucky.

“That was harsh. I don’t think I’ll ever recover.”

“Lucky for you, you don’t have a bad side, Sam.” The three of you are stupidly handsome, you think.

The rest of the ride back upstate is quiet. Bucky’s reading, Steve is scribbling in a well-worn journal, and Sam’s asleep. You flick through your camera, making mental notes about which photos to delete and which ones to edit and get back to Pepper.

Your thumb hovers over the delete button on a photo of Bucky and Sam, the two of them laughing about something. Bucky’s looking straight into the lens. It’s not something you’d use, normally, but you find yourself hesitating. It’s like he’s looking right at you.

Bucky clears his throat in the backseat, and when you look in the rearview mirror, he’s already looking at you. Shit. You fumble with your camera. Did he just see you staring at his photo like some lovesick teenager? You feel your face flushing with embarrassment.

Luckily, you’re saved by the arrival at the compound, and you practically leap out of the van and high tail it to your office.

“No goodbyes? Cold!” Sam calls, but you ignore him.

Safely inside, you shut the door behind you and sit back in your chair, eyes closing. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter to yourself, trying to regain your composure.

“Is everything alright? Your pulse is elevated.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rings out. Called out by the AI? Great. Not to mention if she realizes your pulse is elevated, there’s no way Bucky and Steve didn’t notice too.

“I’m fine, F.R.I.D.A.Y., thank you.”

Trying to relax, you log on to your computer and scroll through a few emails that came in while you were out, responding to a few, but deciding ultimately to start editing those photos.

When you get to the one of Bucky and Sam, you upload it, but delete it off the camera. Fidgeting, you open a new email.

Subject: Photos from Hospital Trip - attached Sergeant Barnes, Thought you might want this photo from the trip today. Won’t be using it for PR, so I attached a copy. I’ll send one to Sam, as well.

You hit ‘send’ before you can talk yourself out of it, and get busy editing so you’re not tempted to stare at your inbox all day.

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.

.

The next day, a knock at your office door breaks your concentration, and you peer at the door overtop your reading glasses.

“Is this a bad time?”

Bucky.

“Oh, no, it’s fine, come in.” You stand and start to clear some paperwork from your desk, shoving everything in a drawer in an attempt to look like you’ve got it together. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to see the other pictures from the hospital trip, if that’s okay.” He scratches the back of his neck, smiling. “The one you sent was… good. You mentioned if I wanted copies…”

“Sure, yeah. I can pull them up…” you slide back into your desk chair, fingers flying over your keyboard. “I just finished editing them this morning. Any in particular?”

“Just want to see whatever you’ve got, if that’s okay.”

You realize what a predicament you’re in when he comes around your desk to peer at the screen, his large frame taking up more space than you’re prepared for. He’s close. He also smells really good, like clean laundry, and something woodsy… you clear your throat, pulling up the photos he wants to see.

“These are really good,” he murmurs, and you can just tell that he’s smiling.

You open your mouth to say something flirty, you hope, but you’re interrupted by F.R.I.D.A.Y.

“Sergeant Barnes? There’s a visitor waiting for you in the lobby.”

You can practically feel him tense up. Everyone he knows lives here.

“Who is it?”

“She says you met at the hospital, sir. Allison Smith?”

Bucky’s face screws up in confusion. He looks down at you. “I better go see what this is about.” He pauses, halfway to the door. “Thanks again,” he says, a slow, devastating smile stretching across his face. You feel your heart rate speed up again, and curse him under your breath when he leaves.

He’s definitely under your skin, and you just wish he wasn’t so… stupidly handsome. Maybe then you’d be able to just treat him like another coworker.

.

.

.

A few hours later, you’re in the common area looking for Pepper. You need her to sign off on a few marketing proposals, and want to ask her about the photos from the hospital trip. When you get to the sitting area, you’re struck by the sight of a small girl sitting there, a stuffed animal in her lap.

“Um.” You say out loud, not really expecting an answer.

“Who are you?” She asks loudly.

“Who am I?” You sputter, “I should be asking you that.”

“Do you have super powers?”

You blink. “What? No. I’m--”

“You’re just normal, then?” She asks, deadpan.

You open your mouth to reply but then Bucky and Steve come into the room, both with furrowed brows and slightly wide eyes. They look a little shell shocked. You’d laugh if you weren’t so confused.

“What’s with this…sassy lost child?”

“She ran away from home. I guess she hit it off with Bucky yesterday while we visited with her sister at the hospital, and wanted to come see him.” Steve says, and you watch as Bucky goes to sit next to the small girl, asking her something in a low, gentle voice.

“How did she get here?”

“Stole some money from her Mom’s purse and took a cab,” Steve scowls, but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Gotta give it to her, she’s got guts.”

Bucky, meanwhile, is showing the girl something on his tablet, the sound turned down but whatever it is makes her laugh. You can’t help but smile. Honestly… it’s like the universe is engineering these moments to force you to realize how attractive you find him.

“Her name is Allison.” Steve smiles, despite himself. “Her parents are on their way, but they live in the city. It’s going to be a little while. Any chance you can help keep her occupied?”

You snort. “I don’t know, she wasn’t very impressed with me.

Almost as if on cue, you feel someone tugging on your pant leg. “Excuse me? Mr. Bucky says you have a camera. A big one. Can I see it?”

You look over at Bucky, who shrugs.

“Sure thing,” You crouch down, “I might even know where we can get some candy, too.”

Allison’s eyes light up, her small hand gripping yours. You straighten up, deciding to throw caution to the wind. “Coming, Sergeant?” You ask, and Bucky’s eyes flash with… something, before he nods.

“Sure. Can’t leave my best girl alone, can I?” He asks, coming over to take Allison’s other hand.

You swallow hard, and the three of you start walking towards the elevators.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. will let you know when her parents are here,” Steve calls, and Bucky waves his free hand over his head in acknowledgement.

The three of you make quite the sight walking through the halls of the compound, both holding hands with the small girl, who keeps chattering away, telling you both about her class at school.

You meet Bucky’s eyes over top of Allison’s head, and he raises his eyebrows as he smiles. You smile and duck your head, trying to figure out how you’re supposed to get through this day without turning into a literal puddle on the floor at Bucky’s feet.

In your office, Bucky takes up his spot by the door, sitting on the arm of a chair, arms crossed over his chest. Allison practically drags you to your desk, where your camera is sitting out.

You stand behind her to help her put the strap around her neck and show her how to look through the viewfinder. She giggles when Bucky makes a face at her when she aims the camera in his direction before snapping a photo. The sound is apparently satisfying, because she takes five more, and you step back, letting her do it on her own.

After an hour or so, she gets bored, and starts asking Bucky about his arm. At first you’re worried he might shut down, but he does the opposite. He gets down to her level and starts making up some grand story about how he got it, winking at you when he conveniently glosses over a lot of the details you know to be true.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts after a bit, letting you know that Allison’s parents are downstairs. The girl looks distraught.

“I’m gonna be in trouble!” She says, eyes welling up.

“I think we can work something out,” Bucky assures her, sweeping her up in his arms and tickling her sides as he pulls her over his shoulder. Her laugh is loud and bright, and you grin as you follow them out of the room and down to the elevator.

Steve is already there talking to Allison’s parents when you get to the lobby, Bucky holding Allison’s hand as you follow behind.

“I don’t want to go home,” She says sadly.

Bucky kneels down in front of her. “You can come visit whenever you want, okay? Just make sure your parents come with you next time.”

She nods. “Okay. Thank you, Mr. Bucky.” She looks up at you. “Will you be here next time I come, too?”

You’re a little surprised she even cares, considering what a big crush on Bucky she has. “If you want me to be, sure. I’ll let you help me take more pictures.”

She grins, giving Bucky one last hug before scampering over to her parents, who look equal parts upset and relieved to see her. After they leave, Steve heads off to who knows where, and you find yourself back in the elevator with Bucky.

You feel fidgety, like you don’t know what to say. You also feel like the air between you is charged, and it’s making you nervous.

“You were good with her,” you say finally, not able to stand the silence anymore.

He smiles softly. “I like her. She reminds me…” he trails off, shaking his head. “She reminds me of my kid sister.”

The smile on your face fades. He notices, and reassures you. “It’s okay.” He swallows, looks away for a moment. “You were good with her too. She liked you.”

You blush, “It helps when you have a camera.”

He scratches his beard. “She’s not the only one who likes you, you know?”

Before you can even formulate a response other than what is happening right now, the doors open, signalling your floor. He gestures for you to walk out ahead of him, and the rest of the walk to your office is silent. You think he can’t possibly have meant what you want him to mean. What reason would he have for liking you?

You’re moving around your desk trying desperately to put space between the two of you before he can say anything. “So, I’ll send you copies of those photos, and some of the ones Allison took today, if you want. If not, I’ll just--”

“Hey,” he says gently, coming up closer to you. “Hang on. If I was out of line back there, I’m sorry.”

Your brain is short circuiting. “No! No, you werent, I--” You’re flustered, unable to get your words out. All you know is you can’t let him leave. You stop yourself, briefly closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “I like you. I do, but you make me so nervous.”

Bucky has the most smug smile on his face when you open your eyes. “Yeah?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, god. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I’ll try not to,” he says, smiling, his eyes intense on yours. “Any chance you’re free for dinner tonight?”

“I could probably pencil you in somewhere.”

A surprised laugh escapes him as he takes a few steps backwards out of your office, pointing at you. “Oh, you’re good. Yeah, see if you can make room for a recovering amnesiac to go out to dinner with a pretty girl, will you?”

Your mouth falls open. “Bucky! That’s not funny!”

He’s still grinning. “It was a little funny.”

“You’re… you’re so…”

He changes course, coming a few steps closer to you. “Go on…” His eyes are practically smoldering.

You blush furiously, trying not to keep smiling like a total idiot. This man just… god, he has a way of making you feel like a teenager again.

“I don’t have plans tonight.” You tell him.

Triumphantly, he claps his hands together. “Perfect how that worked out.”

“Uh huh.”

One more step closer.

“For the record, I’ve been trying to ask you out for weeks. You make me a little nervous, too.”

His voice is like honey poured over gravel. Smooth but rough at the same time. You think you’d listen to him read the phone book.

“Glad we’re on the same page, then.”

He hums in agreement, but whatever he was about to say next is interrupted by F.R.I.D.A.Y. saying he’s late for training with Natasha.

“Does seven work for you?” He asks.

“I suppose it does.”

He laughs again, the sound music to your ears. “Trouble. I should have known you’d be trouble.” He backs out of the room again. “I’ll see you at seven.”

You almost collapse into your desk chair when he leaves, struggling to keep your heart from beating its way right out of your chest. God. You have a date tonight. A date with Bucky Barnes.

Your computer still has that shot of Bucky and Sam pulled up, the one where he’s looking straight into the lens, and you can’t help the butterflies that start up in your stomach. You glance at your watch and suddenly can’t wait for seven o’clock to arrive.

[thedevillord-writes]

Pandora - Sister

"A sister is both your mirror and your opposite"

-Elizabeth Fishel

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

"Did you see the episode last night?"

"Oh my God, it was amazing!"

"Takao-senpai is so hot when he's wearing that football uniform."

"He's so into you."

Matsuoka Haruko was popular. A high school senior, she spent a lot of her time establishing a position. She made sure to smile and greet everyone she met eyes with. She tried her best to include everyone in class for whatever activity. She would be the first to volunteer whenever someone needed help. Lesson notes, relationship advice, she had it all. Of course, it helped to be pretty and smart.

As student council president, she had always been really hands on, always making sure that events were organised perfectly and to everyone's liking. She listened to suggestions and opinions, and even when she did not agree, she would politely explain her own view and come to a compromise. She was the perfect liaison between students and teachers, always fighting for the best for her peers yet pleasing the faculties at the same time. On top of that, she was the top student in every class but never bragged about her grades. Instead, she would host after school study clubs and help those struggling. Blessed with looks, it was no wonder she became popular in school. Every girl wanted to be her, while every guy wanted to be with her. There was nothing more Haruko could ask for.

Except, there was.

"Oh wow, who is that with Mr. Watanabe? She's beautiful."

Those were words Haruko dreaded her entire life.

She had two sisters, one of whom she went to school with. While the two sisters led very different school lives, they were close. When Haruna started high school, Haruko made sure to tell everyone she knew about her little sister. They would have lunch together, and Haruko would share her experiences regarding which teachers to kiss up and which would let her get away with the occasional late homework. She told her which guys to avoid, though no one dared to bully the student council president's little sister. Haruko was protected from the very beginning.

Her other sister, however, was someone Haruko would preferably not be associated with. They were never close to begin with; they barely talked to each other when they were living under the same roof. Now that they were living apart, it only deteriorated their relationship. Haruko never saw her as a sister, just a selfish person who was willing to abandon her sisters. She lived a glamorous life while Haruko and Haruna lived in their childhood home, a two-room apartment. Everything she wore on her person was branded, while Haruko had to think twice before getting that one dress on the more expensive side.

Matsuoka Haruka was someone she did not want in her life, yet somehow, here she was.

~.~

Sisters were supposed to be close.

They were supposed to sleep in one tiny bed despite having separate rooms. They were supposed to do each other's hair and make-up, and share clothes. They were supposed to stay up late at night with ice cream and popcorn, talking about the crushes they had. But the Matsuoka sisters never did any of those things.

Haruna was ten years younger than Haruka was, they never really had the opportunity to do sisterly things because the eldest was too busy acting as a mother. Still, they had a relationship that would be considered close by most. However, there was always still distance between them, Haruka felt. There were times when she did not understand her younger sister, and times when Haruna would treat her more like a parental figure rather than a sibling.

With Haruko, however, it was a different story. They never got along, even when they were younger. There was a period of time when they lived separately and when Haruko was brought home, she resented both their mother and Haruka. She shut them out, of her room and of her life. When their mother passed, she did not shed a single tear but instead, insisted on living apart from Haruka. Her exact words were 'I cannot stand living with you for another second'. It was the one relationship Haruka desperately wanted to mend yet could not find a way to.

Sitting across from the sisters, even Miss Suzuki could tell the sisters did not get along from the tension alone. Still, she had to do her job and cleared her throat, opening up Haruko's file before looking to Haruka. "It's nice to finally meet you, Miss Matsuoka," Miss Suzuki smiled. "Haruko is an excellent student, as you probably know. She's doing extremely well in every class, and she's the student council president. She is also actively participating in activities. Her application would definitely look good. Students who do so well in school usually get a lot of support from home."

"I don't," Haruko stated. "We don't live together. I don't even know why she's here."

"I work a lot," Haruka explained. "I know I should make time for them but my schedule is crazy. I'll do better from now, I promise."

Haruko rolled her eyes, leaning back in the chair and folded her arms, looking away. Those were words she said a lot, 'I'll do better from now'. Those were words their mother used to say all the time. Haruko never believed in them, however. They were always empty words and they would always be empty words. That was not changing because they were coming from Haruka.

"Let's talk about Haruko's choices," Miss Suzuki said, changing the subject as she sensed the tension thickening. "I see here she wrote that she'd like to apply to the law course at Tokyo University and Kyoto University. Normally, we would suggest our student to apply for a back up but with Haruko's grades she'd have no problem getting into either university as long as she does well at the acceptance exam."

"Oh really? That's amazing."

"Don't pretend like you care," Haruko muttered. "Are we done now? Can I go now?"

"Well, if there's no other questions then I sup-" Before her teacher finished, Haruko got up and left. This was her first time being rude to a teacher but she could not help it. Whenever she was around Haruka, this side of her would come out subconsciously.

Giving an apologetic nod to Miss Suzuki, Haruka went after Haruko. Haruna was waiting just outside the classroom and hurried after her two older sisters when they came out. Catching up with Haruko, Haruna linked their arms together and looked back to Haruka with a wink before turning her attention on her other sister. Since she could remember, Haruna had always been caught between her two older sisters. She was always forced to choose a side but she could never, only doing her best to make sure that everyone got along.

"Haruko-nee, aren't you hungry? I'm hungry," Haruna sighed, leaning her head on Haruko's shoulder. "I really want to try the steak at that café near our school. All my friends have been except me! But we can finally go today because Haruka-nee is here! She'll pay and we can have anything and everything we like."

Haruna's intentions were so obvious that even a blind person could see right through her. As much as Haruko hated Haruka, there was no way she could ever say no to her little sister. She knew that whatever happened between her and Haruka had nothing to do with the innocent Haruna and though she was often caught between them, both older sisters tried their best not to involve the youngest in their disagreements.

Begrudgingly, Haruko agreed to having a meal.

The three sisters made their way to the café Haruna wanted to visit and ordered a table full of food. Eager, Haruna started digging into the food while the two older sisters sat opposite each other awkwardly. If she were to be honest, Haruka could not remember the last time she sat down with Haruko and had a proper conversation. Every time they tried to talk, it would always end up in an argument with the younger storming off. Picking up her cup of hot chocolate, Haruka decided to make conversation anyway, despite knowing the outcome.

"So how have you guys been?" Haruka asked.

"Same as always," Haruko replied, not giving her much to go on.

"Any interesting thing going on in school? Crushes?"

"Haruko-nee has a lot of guys after her. Pretty sure the basketball captain asked her out last week."

"Oh really? That brings me back to my school days. I went on a date with the basketball captain too."

"Yeah, and the football captain, the fencing captain, and the archery captain. Aren't you sleeping with your current boss too? We all know you're a slut, no need to advertise to us."

With Haruko's little outburst, the atmosphere was brought back to awkwardness instantly. Their relationship was never good to begin with, but ever since Haruka started working, it worsened. For some reason, Haruko seemed to think that she was using her body to get her jobs and anything else she wanted in life. It was one of many reasons why she refused to associate herself with Haruka, and no matter how she tried to explain Haruko just did not want to listen.

"I heard from your teacher that you're having a festival at the end of the year, are you guys involved in any activities?" Haruka asked, changing the subject.

"Oh yeah! My class was planning on a café, I was thinking maybe I could borrow your old work uniform."

"Absolutely not," Haruko snapped. "You're not wearing that slutty outfit for some festival café. Just because she paraded herself, doesn't mean you have to."

"Stop it!"

Both Haruka and Haruko were stunned.

Haruna never raised her voice. She was always the docile one, the one calming everyone down, but never the one initiating an argument. Even if you tried to, she would never give you much to go on and it was impossible to carry on an argument when she would just look at you with her puppy-like eyes and a little pout. She would cry in uncomfortable situations, perhaps complain here and there, but she would never raise her voice and yell back. This was the first time.

"Stop talking about Haruka-nee like that," Haruna said, already calming down but looked at Haruko with stern eyes. It was a look neither older sisters were used to. "Do you think she wants to work at a maid café when she was just sixteen? She had no choice. Do you think she really wants to be working almost twenty-four-seven now? She had to give up on her own dreams to take care of us. Yeah, she's not around all the time but she's taking great care of us. Everything you want, she'd give you. She'd go to all lengths to get you the moon if you said you wanted it."

"Then get me the moon."

"Shut up! Do you even hear yourself? She's doing her best and you're being ungrateful."

"It's okay, Nana," Haruka said.

"It's not okay!"

"It's okay," Haruka smiled, reassuring her once more. There was not much she could do to change Haruko's opinion on her though she felt comforted knowing that Haruna saw and appreciated all her efforts. "Actually, I have to be somewhere else now so I'll just pay the bill. You guys enjoy." Not wanting to sour the situation further, Haruka picked up her bag and left the café after paying the bill.

It hurt her. It hurt her deeply to know that her sister thought so lowly of her. It hurt to know that Haruko would prefer not seeing her for the rest of her life.

As she was leaving the café, a car parked on the other side of the street caught her attention. It was too fancy a car to belong to residents around the area, and the owner (whom she unfortunately knew) of the car was leaning on the bonnet as if he had been waiting for her. She used to feel irritated and frustrated to see him though for once, she felt relieved to see a familiar face. Spotting her, Yosuke stood up straight and waved though Haruka crossed the street and wrapped her arms around him instead.

Shocked, Yosuke was frozen on the spot.

The first thought that came to mind was the woman hugging him was most definitely not Haruka. She was simply a woman who looked like Haruka. Unfamiliar with the situation, Yosuke found himself petting Haruka on her back though he had no idea what he was comforting her for. Pulling away after half a minute, Haruka looked up to him. "Do you drink?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you drink?" she repeated.

"Um...yeah."

"Good. Drive me to a supermarket."

~.~

Following Haruka around the supermarket, Yosuke was fascinated at every turn. He insisted on pushing the cart, walking behind her and picking up almost everything they came across. He never had much of a chance to experience common life, which was why he felt so attached to Haruka. She was constantly letting him experience new things, like shopping at a supermarket where you got to pick out your own fruits and the next aisle sold electronics. He felt like a child at an amusement park for the first time; every corner sprung something new and interesting at him.

Although she knew exactly what she wanted, out of habit, Haruka walked down every aisle. She did a little grocery shopping first, answering Yosuke's trivial questions at the same time. Why was she hitting the watermelons before choosing one? Why did she sniff the mangoes? Why did she put the fruits in another basket when they had a cart? It was intriguing to see how excited Yosuke was, as if he was a child. At the same time, it highlighted the difference between them.

"Wow, can you not get something better?" Yosuke asked, picking up the bottle of wine Haruka put into the cart and made a face. "I can get you a bottle that's worth like two hundred of this."

"Well guess what? I'm paying, so we're having the wine I want. And I want to drink cheap wine until I fall asleep tonight."

Still making a face, Yosuke put the wine back into the cart and followed Haruka as she turned onto the snack aisle. She picked several bag of crisps, some chocolate, and sweets dumping them all into the cart. Walking in front of the cart, she had her hand on it and pulled Yosuke along as she turned onto the next aisle where she picked two bottles of soft drinks.

With everything she needed, they finally went to pay. Once again, Yosuke could not help but be captivated by the simple conveyor belt that brought their items from one end all the way to the cashier. He even asked if he could bag the items because it seemed like fun.

Once they made it back to Haruka's apartment, she wasted no time in preparing the snacks and making drinks for both of them. Although she did not drink often, there were some things she learnt from the bartender at the hotel though most of her drinking knowledge came from Baba and their spontaneous nights out. She mixed the drinks as Baba had taught her, handing one over to Yosuke before downing hers in one shot.

"You seem to be familiar with drinking."

"I have my fun," Haruka shrugged.

"You want to tell me why we're drinking tonight? You don't really strike me as an alcoholic."

"Don't pretend like you know me, please. I hate when you do that."

Yosuke did not respond, but instead, he watched her mixed another drink for herself while he drank the one he gave her. People watching was always a hobby of his though Yosuke enjoyed one-on-one observations too. Of all his subjects, there was no one more intriguing than Haruka. In a split second, she could go through as many as five different emotions. She always said things she did not mean, though he was particularly fond of reading what was on her mind through her eyes. What was always confusing, however, was how she insisted that he was annoying yet every time he showed up, she would gladly accept his presence around her.

"Have you ever done something for the good of others but end up making things worse?" Haruka asked, already on her fourth drink.

"You've described my entire life," Yosuke chuckled. "Except, I don't do anything for the good of others. I do it for fun, and it always end up making things worse but more fun so it doesn't bother me."

"I'm talking to the wrong person," Haruka sighed, knocking back yet another shot. "I forgot that you're a literal child."

Pouring his second drink, Yosuke was starting to realise that she was not looking for a fun night with drinks. She was right in saying that she was talking to the wrong person. Yosuke was never the one someone would pour their heart out to. Not unless he fed them drinks with the purpose of making them pour their hearts out so he could use it against them some time in the future. What she was looking for right now, however, was a friend to talk to. Someone who understood what she was going through and could somehow make it better. He was definitely not that person.

"I'll tell you something I've never told anyone," Yosuke said.

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 33

AO3 link here

The first day of her bar exam, Drea knows that she is supposed to wake up and get right out of bed, considering the three alarms she has set. Instead she lies there for a few moments and thinks of the times she would come downstairs when she couldn’t sleep and find her parents sitting up together in the kitchen. How one of them would make tea for her, hot and strong and sweet, in those blue flowered mugs they’d had, before settling in to talk about the test the next day that was making her too nervous for sleep or some issue that she was having with a classmate or teacher. “Just do what you can,” her dad used to tell her. “Because what you can do is pretty amazing.”

She remembers nasty kids on the playground saying her parents couldn’t really love her, that she wasn’t their real kid, remembers thinking of those nights of quiet listening and steady voices and Dad’s hand certain on her shoulder, knowing like the blood running through her veins that it was real and screw anyone who said otherwise. There were plenty of other parts of her that were vulnerable to that sort of bullying, but in this she was secure: her parents, her family, would love her through anything.

Lou bangs on her door, shouting through the wood, interrupting the memory. “Get up, Carter, the alarm you set in my room just went off. Test’s today!” There’s the sound of her footsteps shuffling back to bed, and Drea sighs and smiles just a little and gets out of bed.

Her friend Greg told her to try not to run over case law and testing tips in her head, to leave her flashcards at home and bring a book or her portable cassette player instead. She has a book in her bag, but she doesn’t take it out even when she finds a seat on the T. Instead she gazes through the window, finding the Citgo sign tucked into the skyline across the river. She looks around at the other morning commuters, summer students and tourists beside businesspeople. There is one woman who seems not to let hanging onto a strap distract her from reading a half folded newspaper; she wears a loose, gorgeous royal blue pantsuit with a lace-collared blouse and pearls. It makes Drea look down at the outfit she’d laid out the night before - a belted gray skirt and an orange and white striped T-shirt - with disatisfaction.

Last Thanksgiving, she had been in the kitchen while they waited for Emma and Eric to finish eating with his family. She was in charge of some kind of cranberry relish recipe that Dad had clipped out, Mom had been mashing potatoes, and Rose (off the cooking roster permanently outside of necessity) had been sliding cloth napkins into the just-polished napkin rings. Drea and Rosie had started trading off stories across the table: worst law school professors, times they had been hit on by partners or associates or interns at the law firms that they had each worked at. When Rose was repeatedly asked to serve coffee in meetings, she apparently produced progressively worse pots until they stopped. Drea had started putting up a rotation list in the conference rooms and referring people to that, trying to make them realize the inequity themselves; it still hadn’t entirely worked.

And as frustrating and awful as the stories were, in a strange way she had found herself reveling in the conversation. In the understanding there, but also in talking with her sister.

From the time she was fourteen, Drea had known she wanted to be a lawyer. She’d been open about her plans with teachers and friends, her debate teammates and especially her family. And then, just as she was starting to study for the LSAT, Rose had announced that she had taken the exam months earlier and would soon be starting at Columbia Law.

Drea had spent so long feeling as if she were some sort of runner up Rose: smart, but from studying and working for it rather than Rosie’s natural sharpness, bold enough to get by but not quite as brave as her sister. And so she was glad that even though they lived barely hours away from each other, they only saw each other a couple of times a year. She couldn’t pretend any more often than that to be okay with Rose taking her goal, taking it first, probably doing better than she would. Rose had graduated with a motley collection of majors and minors and simply fallen into working for a domestic violence organization after her volunteering in college, and Knowing what she wanted and putting in the work to get there had been the only thing that made Drea feel that she was best at something. She had been so angry that this thing, her thing, her one thing, was being taken from her. But now, she listened to her sister speak, watched her hands trace around the air, and found not competition between them but comfort, companionship. As if maybe having a sister in the same business wouldn’t be so bad. As if maybe they could both find ways to make their mark beside each other.

Rose finished telling a story about being taken aside by the one female partner at a law firm where she was working over the summer. “Wear a skirt suit,” the woman had advised. “The others don’t like it when you try to put on their pants, you know.” Then she had waited for Rose to laugh and agree.

“I haven’t even let myself look at pantsuits,” Drea admitted. “I know everyone expects skirts. It’s supposed to be the professional thing, I guess,” and their mother had set down the potato masher and sighed. Though she wore a smile, it was sadder and more worn than anything they usually saw, the sort of thing only their father would be familiar with.

“I had hoped we would be beyond this sort of thing by now,” she told them. “I had hoped that the problems, the barriers, I had when I was beginning my career would be obsolete by the time my daughters were beginning theirs. But it seems as if so very many things are precisely the same.”

“I’m sure it’s better, Mom,” Drea offered. “At least a little, it’s better. There are sexual harassment laws now, laws against hiring descrimination, you can’t get fired for being pregnant...I know it seems like all of the problems still exist only underground and having laws on the books can’t fix everything, but things are better than they were, and you were a part of that.”

“And for the next part,” Rose said, trading a glance with her sister. “For the rest of it, we’ll be here, to make things even better for the ones who come after. Just like you taught us.”

She looks around the testing room as everyone is filing in to get settled. She sees familiar faces from her classes or around campus, from internships, panels and events. Carl is sitting at the next table over. Tom and Denise from the exam prep course walk in together. Her friend Celia is too far to speak to, but they smile at each other for courage.

And then it is time to begin.

She knows that she’s meant to be focusing only on the questions in front of her, and she does seem to be at least somewhat - her pencil marks the page nearly as soon as she finishes reading. But she also can’t help but think of the importance of this day, how everything, her whole life, has built and led here. She thinks of listening to her parents talking politics and policy around mouthfuls of morning toast, of study groups and late nights of debate practice, of disappointing grades that just made her grit her teeth and try harder the next time. She thinks of two diplomas with “Veritas” at the top and her name beneath.

Andrea Mastro Carter: one name from each set of parents, and one she gave herself. After the adoptions went through, they had all shared the same last name, but Mom and Dad always told them that they could pick middle names if they wanted - she and Nate hadn’t been given them at birth. So when she was twelve they had gone to court and she had added back her original family name, just to keep it alive somehow. Nate, when he had gone a few years later, had taken the initial M rather than a full name. She knows he did it not from some sort of loyalty to the past he doesn’t really remember but because it would mean something to her, and that touches her more than words.

(When she was little, Emma would say that she was just going to have her middle name be Rose too. Later, she would try to choose between dozens of possibilities, making lists that seemed simply copied from Famous Women of History and Literature. Finally, though, she chose Jane. “I think,” she had said, “that there were probably a lot of women named Jane who lived good, quiet lives - they were so quiet that we don’t remember them. I’ll name myself for them.”)

She thinks of the summer they moved from New Jersey, driving to the Maryland house with all of the car windows rolled down for a breeze. With boxes still in their rooms, Dad woke them up one morning and shuffled them all into the car so they could be in Washington by 8. It wasn’t early enough: the city was already packed with people, and even at seven years old, she felt the tension all around. She doesn’t know that she has ever held her mother’s hand as tightly.

And then they were marching with the crowd, walking surrounded by more people than she had ever seen, toward buildings that she had only seen in pictures. The signs people were carrying said things about jobs and freedom and equality and something called civil rights. Some of it she understood, and Mom and Dad had answered questions when they could, but she knows that she didn’t understand the significance, not then.

It was hot: seventy-five by 10 A.M. and hotter throughout the day. The dress that she had picked out, still excited about getting to wear such things without being questioned, was pretty but heavy, sweaty against her skin. They were gathered for a long time, listening to all different speeches and songs. It was harder and harder to concentrate as the day went on; Drea started playing hand-clapping games with Rose, tic-tac-toe on a piece of scrap paper with Emma.

And then a new man had come up to the podium, and Dad had put Nate onto his shoulders so he could see. Drea had never heard someone talk the way this man did. Even then, when she didn’t quite understand, she leaned forward to listen to him talking about his dream, heard the people shout encouragement and agreement back at him and nearly did it herself. Next to her, Rose had turned to their mother and said, “You’re important too, Mom. You should go up and speak to everyone.” But Mom had shaken her head and said, “No, today isn’t the time for me. This is the time for Dr. King and those who are leading with him.”

She remembers, too, a time she went to lunch with Aunt Layla and Libby one summer when she was in New York. Libby was urging them along, worried they would miss the reservation Aunt Layla had called for at a new restaurant; the others were racing to keep up with her, laughing a bit as they did. (Though Drea was secretly glad someone was trying to get them there in time; Layla was smart and very good at her job, but she had “just five minutes”ed them when they had come to find her in her office, and then did it again when they found her in the lab until they were cutting it quite close.)

“Barnes, party of three,” Aunt Layla said, still a bit breathless from running and laughter, when they arrived just in time.

The host looked up at her, scanning not her lovely cream linen skirt or her bright smile but instead her shade-darker skin, her striking eyes. He said, without pause, “I apologize, someone must have misinformed you. We are quite full up this afternoon.”

“Excuse me?” Aunt Layla didn’t raise her voice, but Drea could see the way her hand spasmed into a fist against her thigh. “I called this morning. I was told our booking was confirmed.”

“As I said.” A tiny shrug; the polite smile hadn’t shifted, but now Drea could see it was more like indifference. “I apologize, Mrs. Barnes.”

Aunt Layla grabbed Libby’s hand. Drea thought about how her parents could find hers without looking just as easily. “That’s Doctor Barnes,” she had said, and walked out with her head high. Drea had admired her so much, even as she felt overcome with the small, protected cruelty of it, the expectation that there was nothing that would be done in retaliation.

(Later, Aunt Layla would tell her that she had barely remembered saying anything. “I just wanted to get you girls out of there. I just wanted to get out of there.” She patted Drea's arm. “It's everywhere and has been for my whole life, and my parents’ too, and it still feels like it comes out of nowhere, Drea love.”)

When they break for lunch, someone at the table with her asks what area of law they’re each looking to go into. Drea doesn’t hesitate. She has spent years thinking about the ways the law protects her and the ways it doesn’t, how her voice could be valuable in standing up for others, how the law can’t change people’s minds but sometimes it is what they have. “Public defender first, probably, but eventually civil rights,” she says when it’s her turn, and when a couple of those sitting with her snort she just smiles.

When they are dismissed for the day, her eyes are gritty, the muscles of her hand exhausted. All her muscles are exhausted, in fact - her back and shoulders, her restless legs - and she’ll have to be back again tomorrow. She’s torn between wanting an hour-long bath and just crawling into bed. But when she reaches the corner she finds herself not walking down the stairs to catch the T, but instead entering the phone booth and dialing a number that she hadn’t realized she knew by heart.

“Rose Carter.” Her sister answers firmly on the first ring. (Rosie had decided not to take a middle name, but instead to remove the one she was given at birth. She said she already had all the name she needed.)

“Hi. It’s me.”

“Hey. Hang on.” There’s a clunking in the background, then Rose faintly telling someone that she’s talking to her sister and she’ll have the documents within the hour.

“Sorry,” Rose says, clear again. “Wasn’t today the first day of the bar? How are you feeling about it?” (They had talked briefly about the exam at Emma’s wedding last month before Drea cut it off, feeling overwhelmed. Rose had understood right away.)

Instead of answering, Drea asks, “Where do you get your pantsuits?”

“Is this a joke? About the kids businesswear section or something?”

“No, I was just—I’ve been thinking a lot today, and I was wondering if I could come to New York. Maybe we could go shopping for something new for work.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty confident about how it went,” says Rose, just a bit of teasing sing-song in her voice.

“We’ll see. This was only day one,” Drea replies, starting to grin a little herself. “But either way, I thought I could maybe come see you.”

“Of course you can,” says Rose, the words softer but even more definitive for it. Drea picks at a sticker on the side of the payphone and swallows against the lump in her throat. “Of course you can, always, whenever you want. I might have to work - no rest for the new hires - but you should come, get a feel for another office. And afterward, we’ll go pick out some kickass clothes for you. I have the feeling you’re going to need them.”

The first day of her new job, Drea dresses in a burgundy pantsuit and a silver and white striped blouse.

“You look great!” Grace tells her as Drea comes into the kitchen. Louise’s girlfriend is leaning against the counter in a big sweatshirt and a pair of socks, spooning up the last of her cereal.

“Thanks,” says Drea. “My sister helped pick it.”

“Well, good luck,” Lou tells her as she joins them, wrapping an arm around Grace’s shoulders. “Knock ‘em dead, Carter.”

“Not a great idea when they’re your new bosses, I’m pretty sure.”

“Go!” The other two laugh, and start to shoo her out the door.

She takes her bag from the hook, double checks that the note her parents sent wishing her luck (Mom’s handwriting on one side, Dad’s and a little illustration of Lady Justice on the other) is tucked into her pocket. Deep breath, in and out.

“Okay,” she says aloud. “I’m ready.”

More chapters here

[doing-all-write]

the art of flirting on a hoverboard

Ivy runs a successful arts non-profit and Joe tags along when Rami and Lucy go to visit her. But what happens when a simple bet made over a hover board competition gets out of hand? 

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Ivy (OC)

Rating: Rated B for background and C for characterization. (We love exposition in this house)

Warnings: None! 

This is for sure going to be a multi-part fic so here’s the first part! I hope you guys fall in love with Joe and Ivy as much as I had writing them! Ivy wasn’t inspired by anyone tbh, I tried writing in the second person but it kept confusing me so she can be a self-insert or an OC, whichever way you want to read it! 

Any comments, notes, love, hate WHATEVER you got for this, let me know! 

Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated bc I crave validation!!!!!

"EXCUSE US. HOVER BOARD COMING THROUGH." 

Joe jumped, looking around to locate the voice, and said hover board, as Rami sighed with longing.  

The hover board in question was attached (by what Joe could only guess was a jump rope?) to a scooter. The scooter carried two kids while a third desperately tried to keep their center of gravity underneath them as they all raced down the hallway, laughter and profanities left in their wake. 

The receptionist behind the desk leaned over, offering encouragement as her iPhone lens tracked them as they all loudly screamed upon realizing they would have to turn a corner. 

As they took the corner (with only one loud "FUCK" uttered as the hover boarder's shoulder made contact with the wall, but impressively, stayed on) the receptionist shook her head as she watched the video back. Snickering, her thumbs flew as she added a caption. The nameplate attached to the front of her desk identified her as Erin.

Erin looked up once the video had been posted to her Story and her eyes lit up as they fell on Rami.

"Well, well, well. Look who came CRAWLING back to us. Mister Oscar Winner."

Rami rubbed the back of his neck, "Seriously, Erin? I literally saw you last week." 

Erin made her way around the desk to wrap him in a hug, "Doesn't matter. And besides, I just like seeing the internal struggle that you go through where you want to brag about having an Oscar but also don't want to seem like a massive prick." 

Rami shrugged, "It's a fine line always." 

"Sometimes it's so fine it's nonexistent." Lucy piped up which caused Erin to collapse into giggles as Rami rolled his eyes and Joe smirked. 

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy your company IMMENSELY." Erin said as she turned to Lucy and shook her hand.

"Likewise." Lucy offered as Erin turned to Joe.

"What about me? Are we going to become instant besties?" Joe joked as he shook Erin's hand.

Erin shrugged, "Depends, are you going to roast Rami with me?"

"Absolutely. No hesitation. He's not even my friend."

Erin clapped him on the shoulder, "Good man. We're now besties."

Joe hissed a "yes" as Rami, oblivious to all of this, craned his neck to try to see where the joy riders had disappeared to down the hallway. 

"Glad to see the trend of 'tying wheeled objects to other wheeled objects' hasn't died out." He shot a knowing smile at Erin who rolled her eyes. 

"They'll be back, they usually make a few laps." Erin sighed. "They usually do this whenever new people show up, trying to impress you guys," she fluttered her fingers in the direction of Lucy and Joe. 

"Plus around three everyone starts getting stir crazy so...hover boards." She waved her hand flippantly in the air as if that gesture explained the inner mechanisms of bored teenager's brains. 

Rami nodded, "I have fond memories of us, well, Ivy, almost dying when we tied a skateboard to a bike and tried to make it down the hill, you remember that?" Erin nodded as she threw her arm around his shoulders as they both sighed at the memory of being young and stupid.

Lucy's eye flicked over to Joe who shrugged. 

"We should definitely recreate that" Rami declared.

Joe's eyes lit up at the prospect of doing something so chaotic as Lucy turned to Erin, "Do you have a bike, jump rope and skateboard?" 

Erin laughed, then upon seeing the trio in front of her not joining in, realized they were serious, and quickly swallowed her laughter as she cleared her throat.

"We definitely do but your 'meeting'," Erin put air quotes around meeting, knowing full well it was an excuse for them to fuck around and do stupid shit like this for the rest of the day, "with Ivy is in like, two minutes and she'll be so pissed if she misses out on that." 

Erin paused, eyes raised up and to the right as if she could look right through the floor to where Ivy was. "Honestly, if you propose the idea to Ivy right away, you guys could discuss logistics for this week and build that at the same time." 

Rami nodded once in understanding, "Good call, she's always been a fan of multi-tasking anyway." 

Erin laughed, "Yeah, remember when she was just starting this foundation? She had so much to remember and do, and we came in one day and she was grouting one of the bathrooms, on the phone with a sponsor and was sending out a mass email asking for volunteers all at the same time?"

Joe and Lucy exchanged looks as Rami and Erin chuckled over a memory that went right over their heads.

Lucy spoke up, "Sorry, but you two'll have to explain further. All Rami told me was that he was visiting an old friend and I was on the phone with Joe at the time and he invited himself."

Joe adopted an affronted expression, "Well EX-cuse me for ruining an outing that you were already barging in on!" 

Lucy gave his shoulder a gentle shove with a twinkle in her eye,  "Maybe if you didn't have to call me every time you heard a Queen song in public this wouldn't be an issue!" 

Joe opened his mouth to respond when Rami interjected, "Ivy's been my friend for forever. We met doing community theater. She always talked about how it was so hard for kids to get involved in the arts because there was such a sense of elitism attached to it, she wanted to make it more accessible to kids."

He paused and took in the scene around him, people running back and forth through the lobby, calling out to each other, going over song ideas, running lines, carrying pieces of props back and forth, collaborating on beats, and that was just in the lobby. He knew that further into the building they'd discover recording studios, blackbox spaces, auditoriums, dance studios, a gym and a living space that had been added on after Ivy and the other co-founders had been caught camping out in one of the auditoriums after a particularly grueling event planning session for the foundation. 

Erin picked up where Rami had trailed off, "And not just things like acting and singing. All the backstage work, the stage managers, the people who mix music, who build sets, who do special effects makeup, all the non-acting and singing jobs, she wanted to shine a light on them too. So, she started this foundation to give kids a chance to explore all the options the arts provide. She likes having individuals who have 'made it' come in from time to time. Either to visit, maybe talk to the kids, teach some classes, give a lecture or even, in this case, just to hang out."

"I think she mainly wanted me to come so she could meet Lucy since I wouldn't shut up about her every time we talked." Rami admitted with a grin as Lucy threw her head back and laughed.  

Erin glanced between them, "So, how long have you two been dating?" 

Lucy glanced at Rami, "About a year now."

"But it feels like forever." Rami quickly added as he squeezed Lucy into his side and planted a kiss on to the top of her head.

"Oh that's disgusting. Get out of here with that shit." Erin said as a smile broke over her face.

"They're always that cute. Frankly, I'm getting fed up with their happiness." Joe said as he smiled at Erin and rolled his eyes. 

"Well, what about you, Joseph? You dating anyone?" Erin crossed her arms as she directed her piercing gaze onto him.

"Ah, well, no. Not at this time. I don't know, guess I haven't found the right person." Joe shrugged as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Hmm. Tell me Joe, how do you feel about women who can grout a bathroom AND ask for money all at the same time?" Erin jokingly said as Rami snapped his gaze over to Joe.

"Holy shit, dude. No, this could be perfect."

Lucy, smelling a scheme and wanting in immediately, turned to Rami and Erin, "What do you mean?" She shook her head, "You know what? Doesn't matter. I'm in."

Joe, looking very much like a panicked gazelle after realizing lions hd him surrounded, looked between the three of them, "I'm not sure I like where this is going."

Erin completely ignored him as she turned her full focus onto Rami and Lucy, "They would be perfect together. I mean, Rami, you know Ivy. Tell me they wouldn't be so cute together." 

Lucy scrunched her nose as she pondered what Erin had just said, "Wait, is she the one with the nose piercing?"

"YES." Rami turned to Erin, "Ivy's FaceTimed me a few times and she's met Lucy that way."

Lucy's eyes lit up, "Oh my god, she's beautiful. Yeah, they would be such a good match!"

"CAN I GET A SAY IN THIS PLEASE?" Joe interjected as he waved his arms over his head to get the groups attention. 

Everyone's gaze snapped to Joe and Erin had the decency to look guilty, "Sorry. I got carried away. Ivy just," her eyes flitted around as she tried to pick the best words to describe her friend's situation, "She doesn't think she deserves to date nice guys so her past few boyfriends have all been assholes. I just really want her to date someone good and if Rami and my new bestie Lucy think you're a good guy well...I trust them." Erin said as she shot Joe a half smile.

Joe crossed his arms, "Alright, that's...sweet. But still. I'd at least like to meet this girl before you guys pick out rings for us."

Erin's phone vibrated at that moment and risked a glance down at it. She looked up to announce, "Well, luckily you'll be able to meet her in a few minutes, Ivy's current meeting is wrapping up in two minutes. So, get ready to meet your future wife." she joked as Joe rolled his eyes and Lucy snickered. 

"You guys can take a seat while you wait. I should probably actually go do my job." Erin said begrudgingly as she trudged back behind her desk.

They all offered their thanks and wandered over to the chairs in front of Erin's desk. The desk was situated in the middle of two staircases that came down from the second floor. Joe could see glass-walled office spaces, each outfitted with a dry erase board, tables, chairs, charging ports and a mini fridge. 

Rami nudged him as he pointed to the first room at the top of the right staircase, "You see the girl writing at the whiteboard? That's Ivy." 

Joe followed his finger as his eyes swept over the room noticing the two men and four women. Only one of the women was scribbling something onto the white board, her back facing the lobby. 

She was wearing a pair of denim cutoff shorts, a white t-shirt and converse. She spun around and her hair followed as she opened her mouth in a silent laugh. 

Her smile made the whole room brighter, everyone seemed more jovial as she talked and gestured with her hands to drive her point home. 

Joe couldn't take his eyes off her. 

Lucy looked over at Joe to make a comment about what his first impression was of his future girlfriend but when she saw the dazed look that had come over him, she pressed her lips together and knew that it wouldn't be "maybe" they'd start dating but "when" they started dating. 

Rami raised his hand in an enthusiastic wave to try to get Ivy's attention. Her eyes flicked toward the movement then away. A second later they clapped back onto her friend as her face broke open into a wide smile as she waved wildly back. 

"Gang, let's wrap up this meeting, Rami's here and I want to hang out with him." Ivy announced to the room. Everyone agreed and started gathering their things.

"I didn't know Rami was coming to visit, did he bring his girlfriend?" Ava, their HR Wonder Woman/personal trainer, was peering down into the lobby waving wildly back at Rami, who at this point, was jumping up and down.

Ivy glanced up from her laptop as she saved her notes and snorted at Rami's actions, "Yeah. I told him if he didn't bring her here, to his humble beginnings, I'd track her down myself and force her to come visit." 

Charlotte, their finance wizard and the one to corral board members, barked out a laugh, "Yeah, that would look really good for us. 'Local Non-Profit Investigated for Kidnapping Charges.' That would really help us get more money."

"Better than us bamboozling funds." Adam, their music mixing master, pointed out as he pushed Ivy's cup of iced coffee closer to her so she wouldn't forget it. Ivy smiled her thanks as she took a sip.

"Yeah, better to explain a kidnapping charge than doing weird shit with people's money like buying furry costumes or having wild orgy parties." Sean, their 'Bob the Builder' of set designs, chimed in as he stood by the conference room door, sticking a pencil behind his ear.

Gracie, their social media coordinator looked up from her phone, "Why would we be having wild orgies?"

"Well, wasn't Dionysus the god of theatre? He was also the god of parties and all things hedonistic so...orgies." Sean offered as if that all made perfect sense.

"Also, it's a well known fact, all theatre kids are horny on main so it probably wouldn't be a huge shock to most people." Ivy said as she took another sip of her drink. 

"As much as I love talking about orgies and kidnapping others with you guys, Ivy you better get down there. All three of them are jumping up and down and waving now." Ava offered from her vantage point by the window.

"All three? I thought it was just Rami and Lucy?" Ivy's brow crinkled as she walked over to the window.

"There's a third guy. He seems pretty cute in a 'basic white boy' way."

"Oh my god. Ivy. Date him. He sounds like he’s just your type." 

"God, Adam, you act like I've never dated anyone, ever."

"Well, no one good at least." Charlotte mumbled under her breath as she continued furiously typing.

"CHARLOTTE." Ivy screeched as she whirled around to face the room at large. 

Gracie threw up her hands, "Someone had to say it! It might as well be Charlotte! She's known you the longest."

"Yeah, but-I mean, this is-c'mon guys!" Ivy knew her voice was getting whiny but she couldn't help it. Her friends always ganged up on her about her dating life and she really didn't want to hear it. Especially when she was so close to getting out of work for the rest of the day.

Adam threw an arm around Ivy's shoulder as he passed by her on his way to the door, "Now, now everyone. Just because Ivy's never dated a good man before doesn't mean she ever will. It will just take an act of god to make that happen." 

"Fuck. Off."

Adam planted a loud kiss to Ivy's cheek as he scurried out of the room with Sean following close behind, "LOVE YOU IVY."

Ivy rolled her eyes and turned to the remaining women in the room. 

"Is my taste in men really that bad?" 

"YES." 

Ivy winced as all three of them answered with no hesitation.

Charlotte sighed as she adjusted one of her dreads, "It's because we love you that we say these things. We want what's best for you."

Gracie and Ava nodded in agreement as Ivy slumped against the window and groaned.

"I know you do. I can't help it! Every time a guy is actually nice and sweet I get so scared he'll leave me that I just...go for the exact opposite so I don't get hurt."

There was a long pause then Gracie blinked, "That's...a lot to unpack."

"You're telling me." Ivy mumbled as Ava wrapped her in a hug.

"We still love you but maybe, just try going for an actual nice guy. Just this once. I know I'm just a simple lesbian but I'm sure there has to be a nice guy out there right?"

"Do you really believe that?" Ivy leaned her head on Ava's shoulder. 

"No, not at all. I just thought it would make you feel better. Did it?"

"Well, it did until you told me you lied."

"Hmm. Yeah. My bad. Well! Go get 'em." Ava said as she patted Ivy on the back and swept out the door.

Ivy rolled her eyes, "Will I ever hire or befriend people who aren't a giant pain in my ass?" 

"Not likely."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence Char."

"No problem. NOW GO. See your friend. We love you."

Ivy waved as she walked out the door toward her office, thumbing through her phone till she got to Erin's contact information.

As she stepped inside her office, the light coming in from her bay window almost blinded her as she dropped her stuff onto her desk. 

"Are you coming down or what? You told me you'd be down like, three thousand hours ago."

"Your perspective of time is a little worrisome."

"ARE YOU COMING DOWN OR WHAT."

"Yes, oh my god, I just wanted to let you know that I'm dropping my stuff off in my office then I'll be down and I would be oh so grateful if you'd rely that information to Rami, Lucy and Joe."

"Yeah, I can do that. By the way, Joe? Very cute. Good sense of humor. Single. Seems like he'd have a nice dic-"

"ERIN."

"WHAT. I'm just letting you know what I've observed so far!"

Ivy rolled her eyes, "I don't even want to know how you got to that last conclusion but honestly he's probably not even going to be interested in me."

Erin scoffed, "Want to fucking bet? He was definitely checking you out earlier. Mayhaps someone has a crush..." She singsonged into the phone as Ivy's heartbeat sped up against her will. 

The idea of someone like Joe having a crush on her was, well, too much for her to even consider. It was easier to go for guys that she really didn't like or who liked her more than she liked them. That way, she never got hurt. She never had to spend another night crying over some guy who didn't give her the time of day. No one was disappointed when they finally got to know the real her. She could keep her focus on her work, which is where her focus should be.

Not on some cute, seemingly nice guy who might break her heart.

But some nights, some nights she couldn't help but wish she had someone she really, genuinely liked holding her close.

She started to imagine flirting with Joe. Going on dates with him. Holding his hand. Kissing him. She felt a warmth start to seep through her stomach as she imagined him kissing her, then moving down to kiss her neck, her chest, her-

"...ASS down here so I can prove to you I'm right." Ivy refocused her eyes on her reflection in her dark monitor screen as Erin's command broke through her thoughts. "Alright, alright, tell them I'll be down in, like, 30 seconds."

She hung up and took a deep breath. She ran her fingers through her hair and walked towards the door. 

She paused, turned back and rifled through the drawer of her desk. She quickly applied some lipstick and sprayed a cloud of perfume in front of her, waited a beat, then walked through it.

It couldn't hurt.

~~~

Erin, shaking her head, lowered the phone from her ear and looked at the trio in front of her, still waving like those on a dock waving to an ocean liner on its maiden voyage. "She's running to her office real quick and then she'll be down, promise."

Rami lowered his arm as Lucy shook her's out, "Yeah, I saw her race off." Lucy nodded in agreement and spared a glance at Joe who kept running a hand through his hair, a sure sign he was nervous.

"So, I saw some guy kiss Ivy's cheek, did she start dating someone without us knowing or..." Lucy trailed off as she subtly flicked her eyes over to Joe then back to Erin. Erin's eyes widened in understanding and inclined her head to let Lucy know Don't worry, I get what you're trying to do and we're on the same team. Lucy nodded once and in that moment, an alliance was born.

Rami couldn't tell what had tectonic shift had just transpired between Erin and Lucy but decided to stay out of it.

Shaking her head, Erin replied, "No, that's just Adam. He's known Ivy for forever. Everyone here is pretty affectionate with each other but, like I said earlier, Ivy's single," she emphasized as Joe's hand stilled in his hair, "and Adam has a serious boyfriend who's usually hanging around here." Lucy nodded knowingly as Joe felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders. 

He didn't like to admit it, but the idea of Ivy having a boyfriend had caused him to deflate, just a little.

"Speak of the fucking devil," Erin muttered, then louder, "THERE YOU ARE. I was about to send out a search and rescue mission for you." 

"Well call it off. I'm here. And it wasn't that long!" Ivy said defensively as she trotted down the stairs. 

Erin noticed how Ivy's hair looked liked it had been brushed, the waves were softer. The woodsy scent of Ivy's favorite perfume reached Erin's nostrils as Ivy gave her a quick hug. When she clocked the freshly applied lipstick it all clicked. She smiled as she realized that Ivy must have taken a while to freshen up because she was trying to impress Joe. 

"What the hell are you smiling about?"

"What? Can I not smile?"

"I mean, you can. But it was weird to come out of the hug and have you just smiling at me. It's a little creepy." 

"Well fine. See if I ever smile at you again." Erin bumped her hip against Ivy's as Ivy turned to greet Rami. 

"WELL, WELL, WELL. If it isn't Mister 'I Won an Oscar So I'm Too Good For My Non-Oscar Winning Friends'."

"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT."

As Ivy continued to tease Rami and meet Lucy in person, Joe got a chance to look at Ivy up close. He noticed she had freckles covering her cheeks and nose he hadn't noticed before. Her lips were full, her eyes bright as she laughed at something Lucy had said. Her smile was even more radiant up close. She was short, shorter than Joe and he wanted nothing more than to wrap an arm around her shoulder and tuck her into his side. 

Ivy shifted and Joe noticed how the muscles of her thigh moved underneath her skin and wanted nothing more than to feel those thighs wrapped around his head as he went down on her. Feeling them squeeze the sides of his head as he wrapped one hand around her thigh while the other hand teased her entrance...

"Joe? JOEY. Come back to us." Erin laughed. 

Joe snapped back to attention and saw a bemused Ivy staring back at him with her hand outstretched. 

"I promise I don't have cooties."

Joe shook his head as he mentally kicked himself, "Yeah, no, I'm so sorry, uh, I'm Joe! It's nice to meet you." 

"Nice to meet you too. A little disappointed you didn't bring the cardboard cutout of Ben."

"That's going to follow me until the day I die isn't it?"

"Well yeah. Especially since I'm assuming you'll be buried together." 

Joe laughed and Ivy smiled at him.

Erin and Lucy exchanged looks as they both noticed their hands were still connected. 

Rami cut in, "Ivy, we saw these kids roll past on a scooter with a hover board attached and it reminded me of the time we did the same thing but with-"

"-with a bike and a skateboard, hell yes!" Ivy exclaimed as she let her hand slip from Joe's as she turned to meet Rami's excited expression. 

Joe flexed his hand and realized how cold it was. 

"I know where all that stuff is, follow me." She linked arms with Rami and started skipping down the hall with him. Lucy laughed while Joe, not one to be left behind, linked his arm through Lucy's and started skipping after them.

"Soooo," Lucy said as they followed the laughing pair down a hallway lined with vintage concert posters and records with doors that led to recording studios, "what do you think of your new girlfriend? Is there a spark?" 

"I think she's really great." Joe offered with a noncommittal shrug, "I don't really know what else to say beyond that, but I think we're going to get along well." 

"Do you think she's pretty?" Lucy pressed, never one to beat around the bush.

Joe took a second and finally decided that with Lucy, the truth was always better. She would find out anyway, "Yeah, I do." Hoping the forced casual tone of his voice would downplay how beautiful he really thought she was.

Lucy nodded while on the inside she was jumping up and down and cheering. 

All the while, Erin watched them receding down the hallway and spoke to herself, as if she were a Greek chorus of one, "I give them a week before they can't keep their hands off of each other."

[fallen029]

Guild of Our Own

The rainfall outside had a torrential aspect to it, which always brought a new dynamic around the bar. Such weather on its own was rather dreary, typically evoking the desire to do little more than find somewhere warm to escape it, but when you added in the risk of flooding and the thunder that accompanied it, hunkering down in the warm spot you found was most favorable.

Mirajane found this to typically meant that whoever was at the bar when the storm kicked up would probably stick around for the duration while those who might come in at a later time regularly found it best to stay away for the day. This could either prove to be good entertainment, should those trapped be some of her more typical cohorts, or a rather sour time, should this not be the case. With the rapid growth the guildhall had experienced in the past year or so, Mirajane found that, while she did enjoy meeting new people and discovering things about them, those she wasn’t as close with began to greatly outnumber the alternate. As the flood of members caused jobs to become in an even higher demand, everyone seemed to be gone every chance they got and so was the case, it felt, that during that late season thunder storm.

“It’s really coming down,” Lucy remarked as she sat up at the bar, keeping Mirajane company as she snuggled her summoned spirit, Plue, in her lap. “I wonder when it’ll finally stop.”

The celestial mage originally arrived at the hall hoping to snag a solo job, but the prospects looked bleak and, once the weather turned, she found it better to sulk at the hall for the day. As Happy and Natsu seemed absent, no doubt spending the storm trying to find adequate pots to put under the man holes in their roof, and Erza had been away for a good number of weeks, on some S-Class job on the other side of the kingdom, Levy became Lucy’s only hope for company that day. If the sulking Gajeel in the corner told her anything though, it was that the letter mage more than likely wouldn’t be around for the day.

He went through much larger leaps to improve his mood, when expecting her.

“I dunno,” Mira hummed as she stood behind the bar, rubbing absently with a rag at the bar top. “I kind of like the feel of it.”

“The feel of what?”

“Today,” she answered with a smile. “Today just has a good feel to it.”

“If you say so,” Lucy relented without much of a fight as Plue, from her lap, only nodded his head in agreement with the barmaid. “It’s been pretty boring overall.”

“Sometimes boring is good,” Mira insisted though, usually, this would be far from her ideal day.

Though most would loathe the drama haven that cultivated around the guildhall and thus left Mirajane with the hectic job of either corralling it or cleaning up the aftermath, she found the chaos a welcome distraction, in the months following her sister’s untimely supposed passing conjoined with the loss of her power. It made working the bar less of drawn out, mindless work and more akin to what she was used to, when she was out working jobs. Now, the distraction wasn’t only welcome, but rather craved. It was the norm.

So it was odd, to say the least, for Lucy to see her seemingly relishing in the relative stillness.

It wasn’t like she had much time to linger on the thought though. It was around that time that the guildhall doors open as thunder crackled over head and wind, now given an entry point, ripped into the hall with no reserve, rustling the posters on the request board and blowing anything not weighted on the nearby tables. This brought some grumbles from those around as some drops of rain came roaring in as well, but the sight of the person who was willing to brave such a storm pretty much shut complaints down before they got too far.

“Laxus! You’re drenched.”

Freed was one of those who’d found himself trapped in the hall that day, missing the already departed Evergreen and missing out on Bickslow possibly showing up. Which was no matter, in those days. He no longer only spent his days with the two of them. No. Now he also attempted to assist the many lower members with anything they might need. Many who were brave enough to approach a man of such esteem were greeted to someone who knew much about a broad scope of magic, given his rune spells led him down many interesting rabbit holes. He was actually very busy imparting some of his knowledge on one such member that afternoon, but abandoned it without thought, the second he saw his idol there, water literally dripping from his person.

“Yeah,” was what he got grumbled in reply to his worry though as Laxus looked less than pleased to be standing in a puddle of his own making. “I know.”

While the man’s most faithful of followers fretted over his state, Lucy only made a face over at the bar.

“He’ll be in a bad mood,” she muttered mostly to Plue who agreed with that as well, nodding his head up at the woman as, given the chill in the air from the door being opened, he cuddled closer into her lap for warmth.

“What makes you say that?” Mira asked with a giggle though her eyes were on the slayer then. “It’s just a little water.”

“All over the huge, fuzzy coat he wears,” Lucy pointed out.  Then she sighed once more, it not being lost on her just how boring the day was, to be discussing Laxus Dreyar of all people.

But Mira seemed very concerned with him, or at least was trying to be helpful, as she usually was. It made sense, anyways, given it would be her job to clean up the mess he’d brought in with him.

“Here’s a towel, Laxus,” she announced when, after rushing off to find one, she returned to the man with a bright smile. It was returned from the grateful Freed, but the man in question only leveled his glare on her. But Mira only smiled brighter at the sight, adding, “You really should have timed your day better. You’ll catch a cold, at this rate.”

He grumbled something under his breath as Freed nodded along with the woman, but after a beat, Laxus remarked in a louder voice, “I need somewhere to hang my coat.”

“Oh, of course,” Mirajane was quick to say, turning off then to lead him to the back. “Here, follow me. If Natsu was around, he could just flame it for you, you know? Flash dry it.”

“I really don’t think that would be a good idea,” Freed tried, but it didn’t matter anyways; not only was the other slayer not around, there was no way that Laxus would ever let him get close enough to try anyhow.

Their chatter, anyways, seemed to annoy Laxus as Freed followed he and Mirajane to the back hallway, where a coat rack stood, no doubt for the waitstaff mostly. Left in the front of the hall, it would more than likely find itself being used as a weapon in the never-ending member disputes rather than for it’s intended purpose.

As Laxus slipped the by then super heavy, soggy mess of a coat from his shoulders, Freed only volunteered himself to go up to the infirmary to see if there was something for the slayer to change in to, given he was just as soaked beneath the garment.

Mira doubted the success of this venture and Laxus had no intention on putting any gross article of clothing the man found lying about anyways, but both let the other man head off on his fruitless search all the same.

The second he disappeared around a corner though, Mirajane was quick to reach out and take the towel from Laxus, moving to run it down his face as the man only gave her something of a smirk.

“Your coat,” she remarked, “is gonna take forever to dry out, you know.”

“I know.”

“You’ll probably,” Mirajane went on as she leaned up then, so that she could run the towel over his golden locks, “have to stick around for awhile. Wait it out.”

“Probably,” he agreed, making a face when, finished with the towel, she threw it with no ceremony down to the ground and reached out instead to slip her hands between the wet fabric of his shirt and his taught stomach, the cotton sticking a bit as she pushed it up.

“And I mean, even then, maybe even til close.”

“Or maybe,” he agreed, allowing her to push his shirt up, “even later.”

“I mean, it’s awfully soaked.”

“Mirajane.”

“Hmm?”

But he didn’t finish his thought, or perhaps he had and that was it. She felt like a full thought, anyways, as she beamed up at him as, his chest free of the shirt, she only rested her palms against it, smiling much softer now, up at him, given they were alone, and he felt more easy, giving it right back to her.

“I have to get back to work,” she remarked simply as she turned to at least attempt to hang his shirt on the rack too, but he didn’t see it as getting very dry that way.

Still, reaching down to grab the towel, he nodded at the woman as he said, “I’mma head to the bathhouse. Clean up in there. I’ll stick around though. After.”

“’kay,” she sighed after him, but couldn’t offer up much else as there was a shout then, for her, from the bar area. Something about a refill. And the slayer had managed to track mud all about now and, with Lisanna and Kinana not in that day, it would be up to her to clean it up. Mostly to herself, she added, “You know where I’ll be.”

He did.

It was the whole reason he braved the storm.

He would tell her as much, later in the evening, when the storm faded and people finally were able to escape back into their routine schedule. It would have to wait as, first, he would be bombarded by Evergreen and Bickslow arriving to gripe at Freed some because, clearly, he’d planned to get Laxus stuck up at the hall and therefore all to himself (oh, the man could be so lucky to have such foresight) and Mirajane would loose Lucy to the arrival of Natsu and Happy, but then spend the rest of the night halfheartedly working and mostly joking around with her younger sister.

Eventually though, as the hall cleared out and Laxus tricked the Thunder Legion into ditching off, just the three of them, he went back to retrieve his coat and shirt while Mirajane ushered the final stragglers out of the door.

“We should build a guild,” he grumbled as, alone at last, he slid into a stool at the bar as she went around, doing final closing duties, “for just the two of us. None of these others. Just you and me. By ourselves.”

Mira hummed some, hardly glancing up from the register as she closed out for the night.

“That’s called marriage, I think, dragon,” she offered as he choked some, on the beer she’d slid him.

“Then let’s not do that,” he said around his cough, but Mira only smiled down at the jewels she was counting.

The day was long dead and the night was well on it’s way there when they departed for the night, Mirajane wrapped up in his now dry fluffy coat, giggling softly as the man complained softly about having to take off in a few days, for another S-Class job.

“You mean you can’t just come in everyday and watch me work from afar?” Mira complained as they arrived at his apartment for the night.

“Ain’t that far.”

“Far enough that I have to take you in the back to be alone with you.”

“You took me in the back to feel me up,” Laxus corrected before adding, “Violating me, felt like.”

“You do it to me every time you trick me into going downstairs.”

“Quit falling for me claiming Gramps, for some dumb reason, wants me and you to go do stock. Right that very second. Maybe then I’ll stop.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe.”

“If you have to go away,” Mira yawned as he keyed into his door before taking a step back, allowing her entrance first, “then can we at least spend every single day until then doing that?”

“Taking stock? I dunno. People might start catching on.”

“You coming into the hall,” she corrected. “If you’re going to go away, spend everyday with me. The most that we can, anyways.”

It wasn’t as if the man did every day, after all, though given she so rarely took days off, it very much so was daily for her.

“How come you think I came in today? Huh? Just to get drenched?”

Mirajane walked through his dark apartment with ease, shrugging off his coat onto the couch before disappearing into his bathroom, to get ready for bed. Before she closed the door though, she did reply, “It was  a thunder storm. Did you just have to recharge?”

“I had to spend time with my demon,” Laxus corrected, sounding quite official in his assessment as he stripped down, this time on his own, just to slide into his sheets and await her company. “It’s how come I’ll come in every day.”

He wasn’t sure if she heard him or not as, though the apartment was rather small, his voice felt much the same then as he wasn’t too comfortable, not completely, with his declaration. When Mirajane finally joined him then, it was to fall into his chest and he griped, just a bit, though his arms tightened around her and he nuzzled the top of her head as they settled in for the night.

“One day,” she told him softly, “we can tell everyone and it won’t even be a big deal, I bet. Don’t you think? Dragon?”

He just let out a sleepy sigh though as he remarked, “One day, we’ll have our own guild. Just me and you.”

Smiling, it was all Mira could do to nod before she drifted off.