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exouniverse · 1 year ago

Text

Band’s Cut

Pairing: jaehyeong x gn reader

Genre: fluff, birthday fic

Warnings: none, but if any please tell me and I’ll add it.

Summary: The Rose members have seen the subtle sparks flying between Jaehyeong and his acting classmate, but their slow-burn romance only drives them to meddle further and play matchmaker. Will a chance for a confession finally arise at the surprise birthday party that they’ve planned?

Word count: 5.1K+

A/N: I haven’t seen much of The Rose fanfic around, so I hope this reaches as many Black Roses as it can. Also, I have come to accept that the birthday fics will no longer have a limit of words… they simply flow so easily each time that they become longer and longer. Perhaps some will be short, but that will depend on the premise. So, I hope you like this! Happy birthday Jaehyeong!

A little fun fact, “Band’s Cut” refers to the “Director’s Cut” version of a film, but in this case is the members version of how the romance happened (or more like how they “made it happen.”)

Banner template by @kithsune/@cafekitsune

MASTERLIST | MOODBOARD

The members gathered around Woosung's laptop with coffee and water in hand, about to embark on hours of reviewing audition tapes after their casting director's preliminary cuts.

As Woosung hit play on the first file, they settled in for a video marathon. Dojoon diligently took notes on the potential candidates, carefully analyzing their skills and talents. Meanwhile, Hajoon closely observed the performance nuances, paying attention to the finer details.

The casting director did an excellent job selecting the finest dancers, evident from their clean lines and exceptional technique. The actors showcased remarkable skills in delivering emotions and portraying mannerisms. Some triple-threat performers showed great promise and made it onto the list. However, none of them had managed to captivate all the members with an overwhelming sense of fascination.

Jaehyeong doodled absently, almost lost in the poodle dog playing with a ball that he drew in the corner of his notes. It was the first word you spoke that made him look back up at the laptop, the words melting in his ears.

The members were deeply moved by every gesture and glance throughout your audition. Every minute of your performance left a lasting impact, and even after it was over, the essence of your talent lingered in their minds, preventing them from even moving on to the next audition tape.

"Y/N, was it? Really connects to the heart of the song," Hajoon remarked in awe. Murmurs of agreement echoed among the members, making it clear that, despite having some more entries left to review, Y/N must be considered for the lead. But little did they know this match-up held promise beyond just professional prospects.

The dialogue was almost turning into doodles on the pages. Jaehyeong was having a hard time deciphering his lines for the scene they were studying in his acting class.

He sighed, putting his script down. The line caught in an endless loop within his mind, making him feel dizzy. Suddenly, a voice brought him down to earth. "Need any help with your lines?" you offered.

Jaehyeong looked at you, contemplating and mirroring your kind smile. "This part," he said, and pointed at Captain Wentworth's line, "‘half agony, half hope'...what do you think it means?"

You grabbed the script from his hand to analyze the dialogue. "For Wentworth, I think it's the fear of getting rejected once again after what happened with them in the past, but he's still holding onto a little hope in his momentary jump of faith to confess his feelings to Anne. It's all of the excitement and uncertainty tangled up."

When you looked up at him, he somehow looked even more confused. His eyes were locked on yours as if looking for a deeper answer, so you said, "in a more general sense... it's just how complex and contradictory love is. Like when your emotions for another person change from friendship to love. The agony will be in the fear of your feelings not being returned, while the hope will be in the possibility that that love will be reciprocated."

As Jaehyeong assimilated your perspective on Wentworth's complex emotions, your explanation resonated with him on a deeper level. A clarity emerged through your guidance, breaking the haze around the lines that now reflected his own awakening feelings. Up until now, he had thought his admiration for you was only due to your artistic abilities, but now he could understand Wentworth's words towards Anne.

Words were hard to find, so he hoped his gaze spoke for him, and he offered a complimentary smile as a thank you for your thorough description that shaped his performance as well as his newfound emotions.

Dojoon walked with Jaehyeong towards the dressing rooms to get ready for the music video shoot. They were just chatting about the last TikTok they posted when Dojoon noticed Jaehyeong was a little distracted. Following his gaze, Dojoon spotted you entering the hall accompanied by a group of staff members.

Smirking knowingly, Dojoon was aware of Jaehyeong's fondness for you. He had seen it ever since the call-back auditions, when the selection process for the lead and the ensemble dancers began. Among the three actors being considered, it was evident that Jaehyeong had a stronger bias towards you compared to the rest of the members. His smile would widen every time your name was mentioned. When the decision was made to cast you as the lead in their music video, Jaehyeong passionately advocated for you, leaving the rest of the team exchanging meaningful glances.

Dojoon nudged Jaehyeong playfully. "Look who can't take his eyes off our new lead."

Jaehyeong looked back at Dojoon as he smiled nervously. "What? Was I that obvious?"

The members, as it was too obvious, had managed to get a confession out of him that day after the selection was made. He told them all about you and how much he admired your talent. He truly enjoyed working with you on the class assignments.

Dojoon chuckled and whispered, "only if anyone was paying close attention, like me."

Both of them entered their dressing room. It was just the two of them, so Dojoon dared to say, "you should tell Y/N, about how you feel." He stopped as he checked his wardrobe, making Jaehyeong linger on his words.

"No pressure though," he offered with a kind smile. Dojoon suspected that you also had feelings for their maknae. You had been smiling too wide and giggling so much around Jaehyeong after the call-back auditions. Even more so when you two got some time to catch up and Jaehyeong introduced you to the band.

Hajoon entered before Jaehyeong could say anything, his cheeky smile giving away his thoughts. "Jeff, Jeff!" Hajoon shouted.

"Know who is here?" Woosung whispered excitedly as he came in behind Hajoon.

Dojoon smiled at them knowingly. Jaehyeong seemed like a mouse caught in a trap; his sweat around his eyebrows was evident. "Hajoon and Woosung!" Dojoon replied to Woosung's question as he gave them a warning look.

Woosung looked back at their lovely maknae and nodded. Hajoon mouthed an "oh" in understanding, acknowledging the unspoken sentiment.

Jaehyeong was pensive throughout their glam session for the shooting. He appreciated Dojoon's encouragement; he really could've said something long ago, but the moment he found out about his feelings slipped away too quickly, and his hectic schedule distracted him too much. It also felt too weird to say it during class or now at the shooting of their music video since they haven't had much time out of those restricted spaces.

The whole crew planned to gather after everyone was ready for the first scenes to start off the shoot with the best energy. As soon as you saw Jaehyeong coming out of his dressing room, you approached to greet him, "Jaehyeong-ah! Thought I missed you, but it's nice to see you before we start."

Jaehyeong eased up into a bright smile when he saw you. "Y/N! I'm so glad to have you around for this music video; you're the best."

You could've missed it, but you caught a glimpse of the rest of the band rushing to get back inside their dressing room. You were a little confused but decided to ignore it and continue to chat with Jaehyeong. "You are great yourself. Wanna go to set together? Are you waiting for the members?"

Jaehyeong clearly heard Woosung's giggle and Hajoon whispering "go." He smiled at you, trying to contain his own laugh at his hyung's antics. "We can go together; they are too slow, too slow," he joked, scrunching his nose, and walked along with you as you two chuckled.

The members giggled silently once the two of you had left. Dojoon looked at his friends, already plotting something cheeky in his mind.

"Do you guys think he will say something today or tomorrow?" Dojoon asked them.

"I hope so! They're so cute and so into each other," Woosung expressed.

"Jaehyeong has been overthinking this too much; he must," Hajoon agreed. "However, he's always moving at the beat of his own drum, so perhaps he will take some more time."

"Okay, drummer cliché, don't turn the mood down," Dojoon joked. "But you're right..." he admitted.

Woosung nodded and shared, "I heard Jaehyeong say he wishes he could hang out with Y/N more. That they have barely seen each other outside of class."

They took a moment to consider a way to help their maknae, but their manager came looking for them as they were supposed to be at the set long ago.

The three of them arrived fashionably late, thankfully while some staff crew were still settling equipment for the scenes, so they were not noticed by everyone. Especially Jaehyeong and you, who were caught up in a seemingly smooth conversation as you laughed at whatever Jaehyeong was saying.

"Oh oh oh, look at Y/N's hand!" Dojoon emphasized as you placed your hand on Jaehyeong's while laughing with him.

"Jaehyeongie!" Woosung exclaimed.

"He probably doesn't need much of our help," Hajoon commented.

The music video shoot went incredibly well, with everything flowing smoothly. As the day came to a close, Woosung extended an invitation for the cast to join the band for some drinks. Everyone appreciated the opportunity to unwind and cherish the quality time spent together, further strengthening their bonds.

The following day of shooting unfolded much like the previous one, with Jaehyeong still hesitant to confess his feelings. The other members opted not to intervene too much, instead choosing to support Jaehyeong whenever possible. They offered advice and encouragement whenever they sensed the need. Jaehyeong's hyung cheering crew discreetly arranged situations for the two of them to spend more time together. Nevertheless, it seemed that Jaehyeong was taking his time quite slowly.

After the celebration with the entire crew, the members gathered to discuss their observations and analyze if there was anything else they could do to support Jaehyeong. They contemplated whether it was best to continue their efforts or step away completely, respecting Jaehyeong's pace.

"Guys, I think we've done enough," Hajoon remarked.

"Yeah, I think they're okay," Woosung echoed Hajoon's opinion.

Dojoon took a deep breath and dramatically set his coffee on the table. "No, they're not," he looked back at his friends and continued, "Jaehyeong said he wanted to spend more time out of work with Y/N. So far, everything has been about work—the music video, lunchtime, the after-work celebrations included. I don't think he's saying anything any time soon."

"Dojoon-ah, it's still not our place to meddle too much, though," Woosung pointed out.

"I know, I know..." he said, taking another sip of his coffee. "But, should we try one more thing?"

Woosung and Hajoon looked at him almost uninterested, only to entertain him a little bit more since it had been mostly him orchestrating the moments for Jaehyeong to confess his feelings. They wanted to help too; they had been excited to take part in the scheme, but seeing how Jaehyeong was taking his time made them think it was better to step away for a while. Contrary to Dojoon, who seemed even more committed to the cause, "one last try," Dojoon restated.

"Okay, what do you suggest?"

"Nothing too crazy, please!" Hajoon stepped in, limiting Woosung's encouragement.

"Let's invite Y/N to Jaehyeong's surprise birthday party next week!" He exclaimed, "that would be completely out of work. We give Jaehyeong a week to try to make a move if he wants to, but we still secure another moment together for them no matter if they end up coming as a couple or singles ready to mingle...between them, I—"

"Okay, we got it!" Hajoon interrupted.

"That's genius!" Woosung regained his enthusiasm. "I'm in! One more nosy try won't hurt."

"I knew you were going to agree!" Dojoon looked back at Hajoon, "Joon-ah! C'mon, get in, please," he begged.

Hajoon rolled his eyes before he said, "alright, one more try."

The final day of shooting was with a reduced cast since it was mostly the band and the lead who were supposed to film. The perfect setting for a little surprise invitation to a surprise birthday party.

Woosung managed to grab a moment with Jaehyeong gone from your side; it seemed almost impossible with time to separate the both of you. He casually made conversation about the music video and how incredible it was to have found you for it. He needed to be fast, though, before Jaehyeong came and heard about what they had been planning for his birthday for a month already.

"What's best is that you were already familiarized with our band, especially Jaehyeong, at your acting classes," Woosung said.

"That helped a lot!" You exclaimed, smiling widely. "When I saw the casting call, I immediately thought of Jaehyeong and did my best to get it since working with him is super fun. He's a great friend, so I knew it was definitely going to be so easy to navigate."

"Right, you're super close. You've been glued to each other this whole time," he threw in a little tease, "but it's cool to see our maknae happy having friends around that share such cool creative drives between them," he smoothly added.

You nodded. Woosung caught a little shyness in your gesture, so he continued, "hey! Actually, it's awesome that we got to know you properly. Jaehyeong talks about you a lot, and we wanted to contact you for a little surprise we're throwing for him for his birthday."

"Oh, really? I was actually thinking of calling him and inviting him for some treat or something, but that is even better."

Woosung had to contain his excitement hearing you talk so enthusiastically, confirming even more how into each other the two of you were. He succeeded; Dojoon's plan was taking off steadily.

"Awesome! I'll tell Dojoon to send you all of the details."

“Hey, Y/N!”

"Hey, Y/N!" You heard Jaehyeong call you from inside the class.

It took you a second to realize he had been calling you, but as you turned around, a smile graced your lips. You watched as he maneuvered through the small crowd that had formed around your classmates near the entrance, causing you to giggle. After apologizing to Haeyoung, the class assistant, for accidentally bumping into her, he finally reached you.

"I thought I missed you," he blurted, a little out of breath. "So, I was thinking, do you wanna go grab a coffee?"

His smile was contagious. "Sure! Coffee would be nice," you agreed as enthusiastically as you could.

"It seems it might rain; we could go to your favorite just a couple of blocks away from here."

You simply nodded in response and followed him. Jaehyeong was undoubtedly the top highlight of acting classes. When you first saw him in that initial class, you couldn't help but feel a bit starstruck. However, he quickly showed how down-to-earth and kind he was, quickly erasing any notion of him being a celebrity from your mind. If you were to describe him in a single word, it would be "comfort." Whenever your best friend was absent from class, it was Jaehyeong that you would always gravitate towards, or sometimes the both of you if Hanna was also present.

"Are you in the mood for something sweeter today? Or just your regular Americano?" Jaehyeong asked once you entered the coffee shop.

"Oh, uh..." he caught you a little off guard. "Something sweeter sounds good today," you agreed.

"Find us a spot; I'll go and order," he suggested, anticipating your protest as he often did when he planned to pay for everything. "Please, just let me," he quickly interjected, flashing a genuine smile, hoping you would agree and allow him to treat you to coffee.

"Okay, but you will let me pay next time."

"Yeah, maybe," he joked, effortlessly bringing out a small laugh from you.

You went to look for a good spot so you could enjoy your coffee calmly. There was a corner near the window where not many people were around, so you sat there to wait for Jaehyeong. He had been right. As you stared outside the window, you noticed the raindrops starting to fall. You contemplated the weather, trying not to think about anything.

"Nice spot!" You heard him say as he sat down in front of you. "It did rain! Am I a psychic?" he joked, looking at the rain and giving you your drink.

"That is sweet," you said, and suddenly realized you might not have just meant it to describe the drink he chose for you. His eyes were so sparkly and full of joy, making you laugh again. "Seems you know me quite well; this seems delicious, or you really are a psychic," you said as you raised your eyebrows playfully.

"I will look into auditions for psychics; it might just come natural."

You were not surprised at how easily he could make you laugh, but the blossoming affection within you piqued your curiosity once again. All of your emotions collapsing caused you to retreat inward, contemplating and reflecting on them more deeply.

You would normally be aware of your surroundings, as you swear by the "here and now" perspective, but it was becoming more evident that something was on your mind.

Jaehyeong tried to study your expression. "So you got an interesting scene for the assignment?" he asked casually.

It was only natural for him to ask such a question, but what he understandably failed to anticipate was the extent of your concern since you first read it. He did notice the way you sighed and gazed at your coffee, absentmindedly playing with the whipped cream on top.

"Is everything okay?"

You looked up at him; his eyes expressed so much concern, and you felt so comfortable that you even managed to pull off a small smile. "It's a tough one," you admitted. "I read it, and it just feels so real. I'm concerned about not being able to even start with it; I think I—I, uh..."

Jaehyeong allowed the silence to linger, giving you the space and time you needed. Finally, you spoke up again, expressing your worries, "I don't know how I will manage to separate my own feelings from the character's." You glanced back at your coffee. "Actor's problems, huh?" you added, trying to lighten the mood with your self-deprecating comment.

Jaehyeong chuckled softly and met your eyes. "No need for jokes; your feelings are valid." He considered his words, "that is definitely a challenge, but you have a gift for channeling emotions authentically while keeping yourself protected."

He pondered for a moment. "You can perhaps resort to a simple technique...breath in and out, stay calm so the tears flow naturally once you relax," he suggested, offering a potential solution for the challenging assignment you had to prepare for next class, where you had to cry on cue. "But you can always talk to the professor and see if he can change your scene. I'm sure he will understand. Your learning process doesn't have to come at the expense of your suffering."

You finally smiled truthfully; his understanding and advice moved you deeply. He really saw through you and realized how deeply it was affecting you.

"And you're not alone," he added, smiling back. "I'm here if you need someone to talk to; I'll listen and provide my psychic powers, no charge."

The way he brought out your most genuine laugh of the day spoke volumes. He was a special one, no doubt. You felt so grateful towards him, and just having him around felt like a blessing. The emotions were finally clear as you saw into his eyes, expressing your heartfelt gratitude. There was a deep care for him that made you feel excited and frightened all at the same time.

“Oh, hi Y/N!” Dojoon exclaimed with a smile as he saw you entering the venue. He walked over to greet you properly and led you to where Woosung and Hajoon were busy setting up some fairy lights. They greeted you as warmly as Dojoon had and happily welcomed your offer to help with the preparations for Jaehyeong’s surprise.

“Thank you for lending us a hand; Jaehyeong would love to know that,” Woosung said, winking playfully. It seemed he had caught you off guard; your nervous smile was the giveaway. He let it rest but exchanged a look with Hajoon, who was trying to hide a knowing smile from you.

It was getting more obvious as time went by just how much you were into each other. The members didn’t want to meddle much anymore, but they still had some tricks up their sleeves if they didn’t see much interaction. Just one final push.

More guests began to arrive once the early crew finished decorating, filling the venue with an air of excitement and joy as the hour drew near. Smiles adorned everyone's faces as they eagerly anticipated Jaehyeong's arrival, but it was a certain starry-eyed face that kept the members eager to witness their youngest member's reaction.

The plan was set in motion. Hajoon received Jaehyeong's message, expressing concern as he found no one around in the building. Hajoon quickly reassured him that he was in no trouble but urged him to hurry since the crew needed to begin filming the promotional video for the tour earlier than planned, mentioning a logistical issue with the venue—all of this a white lie concocted to ensure Jaehyeong arrived alone at his surprise birthday party.

Jaehyeong's face showed a whirlwind of emotions as he stepped through the door. The lights out momentarily masked his concern, but it flickered across his face for a brief moment before he comprehended the situation. The sudden burst of lights, music, and chants of birthday wishes took him completely by surprise.

A particular someone captured his gaze, and all that his face revealed was enchantment. The members nudged each other, beaming at Jaehyeong‘s perfect reaction to realizing you were here. The birthday party be damned—almost—this is what they lived for, just witnessing their maknae being truthfully happy.

The band energetically embraced Jaehyeong in a group hug, messing with his neatly styled hair that his style crew had meticulously managed to tame. He had already thought that his sort of laid-back outfit didn’t match the tidy hairstyle much, so he felt more comfortable as he let them ruffle his hair. If only he could have guessed it was just to make him think he had to be at least half ready to only change his outfit once he arrived at the promotional video set.

Jaehyeong’s smile remained on his lips as the members pulled back, filled with gratitude for his friends. But his eyes suddenly searched past them, landing on yours across the room as he heard the beats of his yearning heart echo inside his ears.

There you stood, smiling shyly. The party buzz faded into background noise as your gazes met and held. Before he could second-guess himself, Jaehyeong started walking towards you. His heart pounded faster as your smile grew, mirroring the hope in his own eyes.

Time seemed to pass slower than it really was, but as Jaehyeong reached you under the colorful lights, he softly spoke your name, bringing you back from your slow-motion imagination.

“Y/N, I’m so happy you’re here.”

You shook your head slightly as you scrunched your nose. “It’s not hard to show up for you. Your hair...” you said, noticing the disheveled locks that his friends had left. Gently giggling, you ran your fingers through his hair, fixing it back into place. Jaehyeong didn’t have much time to react since the crowd approached to congratulate him. You stayed behind, trying to slow your heartbeat as you greeted a couple of acquaintances.

The party started right away, with people taking Jaehyeong from one place to another. Dojoon kept an eye out between mingling, ensuring everyone felt included in the revelry. He noticed you and Jaehyeong gravitating naturally together amidst chaos, even stealing shy glances when thinking no one saw while you were not within the same group of people. Trusting the magic of moments, Dojoon gave you space, engaging others enthusiastically.

In a brief moment, he found Woosung awaiting karaoke's start. Woosung nodded discreetly towards the balcony as he drew Hajoon in, who was busy setting the microphones. They watched in awe as Jaehyeong led you outside while holding your hand.

Woosung smiled knowingly. "Our work here is done. All that's left is for them to follow their hearts."

As you walked out onto the balcony, the sounds of the party gradually faded into the background, merging with the bustling city below like distant background music. You both took in the view, and for a moment, nothing was said.

You took the opportunity to reach for the small birthday present you brought. You were not planning anything specific to gift him, but when you saw it, you immediately thought of Jaehyeong, and you bought it right away.

“I got you something,” you announced.

Jaehyeong looked at you, surprised. “What? You didn’t have to,” he chuckled nervously.

“How could I not? It’s small, but I really hope you like it.” You took a deep breath and handed him the small box.

The gentle touch of his fingers sent thrills down your arm, so you tried to hide the sudden nervous smile that grew on your face. You stared as he opened his present and were moved by his growing smile.

“I’m a psychic… this is so cool. Where did you get it?”

He discovered the reason why, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I was just window shopping and saw it; it was meant to be yours.”

“You…” he searched for your eyes. “I love it. Could you?” he asked you, offering to put the subtle crystal ball necklace around his neck.

There was no possible way to hide your smile anymore; he had you hooked. You stepped close enough to grab the necklace and softly rested your arms on his shoulders to fasten it. Once the necklace was secured around his neck, you took a second to admire it on him. It was perfect; it wasn’t extravagant, and it fit so well with him. Before he could read the emotions that your eyes expressed, you looked back at the city.

“Thank you,” he simply said.

“Welcome.”

Jaehyeong's heart raced with anticipation, but he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He reminded himself that there was nothing to worry about when he was with you. Being around you brought him a sense of tranquility that he had never experienced elsewhere. Just by gazing at you and witnessing how your smile mirrored the radiance of the moon in the night sky, he felt at ease.

“Thank you for coming; seeing you made this surprise even better,” Jaehyeong softly said. You turned to face him, and the full sight of your smile melted his worries away.

“There was no reason not to be here.” Something in your voice gave him courage.

“I’ve loved to have you around the past week; we hadn’t seen each other in so long since I was too busy to attend classes.” Jaehyeong stepped closer, slowly, almost without being noticed. “I’ve missed asking you for help; I’ve missed our talks—“

“I’ve missed you too,” you interrupted, summarizing what you’d both felt before you could see each other again.

A fondness entered his eyes, and he nodded. “Y/N,” he started and gently reached for your hand, brushing his thumb over your skin. Your fingers curled around his, igniting sparks in both of your hearts. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he paused for a second. “I’ve felt the agony for so long, but now I’m taking my leap of faith, letting hope lead me. What I’m trying to say is... I like you, Y/N. Not just as a friend. Every time we’re together, you become the highlight of my day.”

A tender smile broke across your face, accompanied by sparkling eyes that searched for his, easing the last of his nerves. “Jaehyeong, I like you too. I have for a while.”

It was your heart´s turn to settle into joy and calmness. You also lived through the agony and hope that Jaehyeong mentioned, making you remember about that small moment you shared in class once. It was almost poetic how he brought it up. He eased you up in ways you hadn’t known before, and that is why you stepped even closer and lifted your free hand to cradle his cheek. Jaehyeong’s eyes fluttered shut at your warm touch, savoring it.

Slowly, you leaned in, giving him every opportunity to pull back if unwanted. But all he wanted was you. He searched for you with his eyes still shut, until both of your lips met in a tender, lingering kiss. His lips were impossibly sweet and soft against yours, weakening your knees, but you stayed strong and continued to kiss him.

You both pulled away, driven by a gentle laugh that started without even thinking much about it all. You rested your forehead on his, keeping your eyes closed as you kept your hand on his cheek. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” you whispered, your thumb stroking his cheek soothingly.

Jaehyeong smiled with ease when your eyes met, both sharing radiant gazes equally filled with care and desire. “You make me so happy,” he shared while his cheeks heated up.

You giggled softly and pulled back to appreciate his face. “I am the lucky one,” you admitted.

“Should we stay out here for the rest of the night?” Jaehyeong asked, almost suggesting.

“You are the star of the party; it’s your birthday.” You giggled even more. “Even though, that sounds nice. No matter how cold it is out here, I feel warm being this close to you,” you confessed.

Jaehyeong’s protectiveness heightened and embraced you, drawing you even closer. “Then let’s get inside. The guys would also probably want to know what happened,” he chuckled. “Did you catch up on their meddling?” he asked, amused.

“I did!” you exclaimed. “I admit they helped quite a bit, though.”

“Yeah, they did.” Jaehyeong searched for your hand and tilted his head towards the door. You squeezed his hand and followed him inside.

You stepped in even closer than you had been when you went out to the balcony. Hajoon noticed the smiles on your faces and whispered at Dojoon to look back, and in a chain reaction, he pulled Woosung from where he was talking to a couple of their friends. They looked at you both in awe, full of joy for what seemed to have been a successful confession. No matter who initiated it or what was said and done, they were just happy for the both of you and how easily everything fell into place.

#happy birthday jaehyeong #jaehyeong fanfic #jaehyeong #lee jaehyeong #the rose #the rose band #the rose fanfic #the rose jaehyeong #birthday fic #exouniverse

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runningfrom2am · 10 months ago

Note

extremely late chapter 14 thoughts:

1. sejanus as much as i love you- maybe not throw yourself inside the house when coryo is having an existential crisis.

2. i love lennox because there should be at least one person who thinks the right way. i hope lennox keeps him on his toes so he thinks three times before doing anything.

3. “Unless you still didn’t see it that way.” ohhhh… the drama.

4. “the back cover of an old book about a man who hunted humans.” is the book “the most dangerous game”?

5. trying to materialise her morals with her prize must’ve been awful. only having money to hold as you’re in a train for that long with that many thoughts, i can’t even imagine.

6. i truly love the family r has and how even that makes her different than lucy gray. the latter was the oldest in her unit, as far as i know, while r isn’t meant to take care of anyone. also you are doing an excellent job at not casting them aside, as side characters usually exist for a quick second in fanfics.

7. Coriolanus Snow Being Honest To A District Woman? It’s More Likely Than You Think.

8. well, ladybugs bring luck.

9. thank you so much for not making her jump to his arms in a few seconds. she went through hell in that arena and at least half of it could be traced back to coryo. the emotional weight of that isn’t something that will lift quickly. she is bound to him by something greater than her feelings.

10. “I am yours for the walk and especially when I walk away.” MA’AM IS THIS FORESHADOWING IN A WAY?

welcome back bestie!! also i hope you had such a great birthday !!

1. yeah he was not thinking LMAO he was just like “on my way to see my friend !” and lucy gray was like “bro cmon read the room”

2. yes i love him :’) he was ready to swing immediately. i really love writing sibling relationships bc with my brother i’ve had so many different perspectives on it through the years haha, but now it literally doesn’t matter i’m like “this person is annoying” and he’s like “i’ll fight them rn” lol. i really think lennox needs to bring that energy bc r is WAY too gentle for her own good, even after all that she went through. he’s a good kid, of course, raised by the same parents, but he’s not nearly as timid and i love him for it.

and ANOTHER thing ab lennox- him and lucy gray both know more than her parents do, and both are clearly protective of her but she is still willing to give coryo a chance. he sees coryo as untrustworthy and a threat to r even though he knows she cares about him, but lucy gray is more optimistic ab it. idk, i feel like they see the situation clearly but in very different ways.

3. he’s like “shit i came all this way to be shut down didn’t i-“ lol

4. yes ma’am 🫡🤭 i mean i know it’s a short story but i have seen individual prints of it too (i had someone on wp be like “but that’s not a book it’s a short story” like girl i know pls-

5. no literally i would lose my damn mind. like you’re staring at an amount of money that can change your life and trying to convince yourself it is somehow worth it (which i know she could never do) would be actual torture i think.

6. i love her family so much, like realistically i can’t imagine r being the person she is without having a loving and supportive family.

also thank you! i love lucy gray and the covey too much to neglect them. especially maude ivory!! we deserved more of her in the movie!!

7. no literally. especially r’s mom. i think he doesn’t consciously know it either but r had talked about her mom quite a bit while she was in the capitol so i think he trusts her more than he would care to if he didn’t feel like he “knew her”. also i think important to mention that his fathers death also affected her so deeply and even physically.

8. that they do 🤭

9. AH you are so welcome. like as much as that would have been cute or whatever i seriously don’t think that was even an option for her it wouldn’t have made even a bit of sense. honestly, she was more likely to bolt back out the door and make a run for it hahahaha

10. IDK WE’LL HAVE TO SEE

#i have the answers #cold nights <3 #that-veela-girl

14 notes · View notes

tojiscrack · 13 days ago

Text

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋: 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑

summary: 13.6k words — you and your friends have returned from a vacation trip in italy! but it’s now time to go back to school and kick start your junior year of high school, but straight off the bat, megumi finds himself immersed in gossip he's usually never bothered by…

notes: welcome to the first ever main-plot-starting chapter of liar, liar! *cheers in the background* FINALLY! we’re here. isn’t it ironic how this time last year i was writing the first ever chapter of liar, liar, and now an entire year later, i’m kick starting the main plot? 😧 time flies… here's my halloween gift to you all! (it's easily my most favourite holiday EVER). and it's also been a week since my birthday, ty for the wishes, kind messages, dm's, asks, tips, etc!! now enjoy this chapter <3

tw: swearing, gossip, mention of violence, threats, and that’s it lmao

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

.・。.・��✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

september 2019 - junior year

"everyone open theirs at the same time, got it?"

"but mine's got tape on it!"

"shut up, yuji."

"i already opened mine."

you dived across the table to snatch the paper out of megumi's hands, throwing him a look of irritation because of how he'd spoiled the entire thing. it only irked you further when he had the audacity to fix you with a glare himself.

"you just couldn't help yourself, could you?" you snapped, placing his timetable face down on the table, refraining from looking at it before he could despite the devil on your left shoulder whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

you gave in and flipped the sheet over. he ruined the order of things anyway, what was the point of adhering to the rules he never listened to to begin with?

"megumi!" you gasped, feeling enraged as you stared down at his timetable.

out of the nine classes you had, pre-calculus was the only one you shared with megumi. to your disbelief, you didn't even share homeroom, so the only other chances to see him were during study hall, break, and lunch, which felt far too short to make up for the overwhelming imbalance.

it didn't make sense, now that you analysed it further. with all the classes available, how was it that pre-calc was the only one you had in common? you felt a nagging frustration, trying to wrap your head around the fact that your paths would now cross so little this year despite the fact that you used to be attached to the hip before. every other subject offered countless opportunities to stick together, yet here you were, navigating a maze of schedules that kept you apart.

you caught yuji and nobara in your peripheral vision, both comparing their own timetables and bickering simultaneously.

megumi was a genius, extremely academically gifted, especially in stem. when it came to any branch of math, the kid aced every exam effortlessly.

and you weren't the worst at it, some would argue..?

the more you thought about it, the more bewildered you became — how could you end up sharing the one class that exposed all your weaknesses, the same one that he excelled in?

he flinched when your voice suddenly rose once more:

"you're taking ap stats?" you demanded, only just realising that he had one extra lesson than you, yuji, and nobara. it was at the very top of the table, labelled 'period 0'.

"don't give him an opportunity to act more pompous than he already is," scoffed nobara, looking uninterested. you did not comment on how she still peeked over the sheet when she thought you weren't looking.

"wow," yuji began, looking pleasantly in awe at megumi's hefty schedule. he leaned back in his seat, careful not to pull himself too far back in the event that he might fall off. you secretly wished that he would, if only to stifle your current shock. "so you'll start the day earlier... won't you be exhausted when we get to football practice?"

that was a good question. since coach yaga had stubbornly given both megumi and yuji spots on the school's football team, it had since been announced that practice would take place every day after school unless otherwise mentioned. with megumi's mornings starting earlier than the rest of you, and his days finishing later, he was bound to be torn down with exhaustion. although he acted like a robot all the time (eat, sleep, make a rude comment about you, repeat) he was still a human who needed rest. more school meant more social interaction. more social interaction meant a drained megumi. things would only go south from there.

he shrugged at the question.

"i'll be fine," he answered, unbothered.

you disagreed. "you'll die —"

"— revive me with your mermaid abilities then —"

you hoped you pinched him hard enough to bruise.

"wait," you said, halting your attack on him with a slow frown. he took the opportunity to rip your hands off his ribs and shuffled away from you. you ignored him, sliding down to sit hip-to-hip with him. "if you do ap stats in the morning, we can't walk to school together."

for the nth time that day, megumi snatched back his timetable from you.

"good luck," he said, eyes half-lidded with that ever-present air of indifference. "you cross the road like you have nine lives."

"you basically just told her that you wouldn't care if she died," yuji intervened, quick to jump to your defence despite the many times you would argue with him, too.

you glanced at him, eyes naturally drifting down to the obvious tan line on his neck from the vacation the four of you had attended with your family in the summer.

nobara scoffed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before pointing, accusatory, at megumi. "this is what happens when you hype him up," said nobara, her finger jabbed at him with enough aggression, any outsider would probably assume that he'd committed blasphemy — you liked to think he had.

"i'm surrounded by idiots," you thought you heard him mutter, his voice low enough to almost go unheard, though the faint tightening of his jaw gave him away.

waving his timetable at him, you unknowingly creased the smooth sheet. "speak up, porcupine."

"do you hate it when he mumbles, mother gothel?" said yuji, randomly turning on you instead.

your head might have had a fifty-fifty chance of snapping right off your neck with how fast you'd turned it to face yuji with a glare. of all the things he could have thrown at you, why did he pick a tangled reference, one that barely bit at your core?

"first of all, what the hell?" you responded, visibly and audibly startled. "secondly, you were supposed to be on my side —"

"yeah i know," he replied, breaking out of his character to speak to you in that usual, gentle and low voice of his, the one you were much familiar with, "but i just remembered that megumi might leave me behind after football practice, so i can't take any chances."

"you're a traitor!"

"it's every man for himself!"

to no one's surprise (except for yuji's), nobara, seizing the moment you had created, sent his head crashing forwards against the table. she'd apparently been waiting for the perfect opportunity for it, and you had handed it to her on a silver platter.

"y/n, swap," she said, sliding her timetable down and waiting for you to make the exchange, barely registering the groan of pain and annoyance yuji had followed her demand with.

you shrugged and complied, exchanging yours for hers with pursed lips.

as you scanned nobara's timetable, you found yourself pouting less, pleased. half of your classes aligned perfectly with hers, from pre-calc to english — even p.e and homeroom, matched. the thought of surviving junior year alongside nobara was a hopeful silver lining. leaving megumi behind wouldn't be too bad, you noted in your had, glancing at his unnecessary scowl.

maybe this was done for a reason. if you spent too much time with him, the grumpy attitude would probably become contagious and you'd be the unfortunate one to catch it.

you watched him glare at nothing.

yeah, you definitely didn't want to become that.

"but we all have gojo at some point, right?" said nobara, her voice drawing your mind away from the undiagnosed disease your mind had planted megumi with.

you lined each of your timetables at the centre of the white, circular table, flicking yuji's head away to create more room for it. he lifted himself back up, scowling when you flicked at his hands next.

"we're all in different classes with him," you commented idly, tilting yuji's timetable a little further to read it more accurately.

"oh, you and i have physics with him together," you informed him, content and satisfied.

"hmph," yuji grunted, rubbing his forehead and throwing dirty looks at nobara from the side. despite this, however, you could see the way his ears had straightened up at your comment, also seemingly pleased with the shared class — it reminded you off the ash-blonde puppy you had seen last year, when you were looking for totalityfor megumi's birthday.

"i wanted ieiri," said megumi, taking his timetable back and glancing down at it, then to yuji's, and back again, seemingly making a comparison in his head.

"we all have her for chem," said nobara, leaning the upper half of her body over the table to glance over his sheet. "don't you?"

"yeah," he confirmed, sounding displeased. "and satoru for every other science. ap bio first period — no one needs to hear his voice that early in the morning."

yuji beamed, taking his paper away from the line of your timetables you'd created with it and shoving it down towards megumi's side of the table.

"don't worry megumi!" he'd said, his pearly white teeth showcased as he grinned. "we have ap biology together!"

megumi's eyes slowly shifted from yuji's overly enthusiastic face to his timetable, and then back again, completely unamused. his expression didn't change, and no words were exchanged as he remained deadpanned, yuji patiently awaiting his response; the excited sparkle in his eye dimming as each second went by in silence.

megumi blinked twice, offering a dry, "great. just what i needed."

yuji took that personally.

"hey —"

"gojo might be incredibly annoying," said nobara, cutting through yuji without a care in the world; she was frowning down at her own timetable, brows furrowed, "but i've never failed a class of his. ever." she looked up at you all with a grim expression over her face. "don't tell him i said that."

"you've got a point," you added thoughtfully. "you think he pulled a couple strings to have us in his classes this year?"

"oh for sure," said nobara, her response quick and short. "we have — what — over twenty different science teachers in the whole school and somehow every year without fail we're in his classes? tell me that's a coincidence."

as your friends discussed the things that satoru must have done in order to have each and every one of you in his classes this year, you stared down at your timetable, eyes glued down as something suddenly hit you in your mind.

you were now going to be lonely in performing arts due to the fact that nobara had switched majors. her electives were now filled with fashion design courses, her dream ever since the end of sophomore year, and you were glad she had finally come to pick something she found genuine joy in, but it still stung a little.

you sighed, almost feeling silly for missing something so trivial, but the thought of no longer having those shared moments with her in drama class left a hollow ache. it wasn't as if she hadn't told you this would happen during your vacation in the summer, yet the reality was harder to digest than you had initially anticipated.

"fashion design," you stated, as yuji and megumi found themselves immersed in a pointless argument about satoru and his questionable teaching methods. "i think mai was saying something about that the other day."

"yeah," said nobara, her voice suddenly gloomy as she deflated in her seat, eyes half-lidded and lips in a pout. "there's a workshop in the first class. the seniors are helping us."

a small, amused smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as she sulked in her seat. her exaggerated pout and half-lidded eyes made it impossible not to find the whole situation a bit funny. you rested your chin on your hand, observing the way she dragged her finger absentmindedly across the table's surface, a clear sign of how unenthusiastic she was about the whole thing.

nobara's disdain for her was no secret — mai, with her sharp tongue and competitive attitude, grated on nobara's nerves like nails on a chalkboard. they'd crossed paths during seventh grade, and from that point on, nobara had made it clear she had no interest in mai's condescending remarks or constant need to outshine everyone, especially in the fashion design world. it didn't help that they were often compared to each other when shopping, fuelling the unspoken rivalry between them.

"y'know, she's not that bad," you commented thoughtfully. you had also grown to like mai a bit better throughout the years.

megumi thought it was appropriate to intervene and add his own unwanted input (during the middle of his stupid back and forth with yuji, too).

"you're only saying that 'cause she's your blackmail partner," he'd said, furrowing his brows at you with a look of obvious impatience.

you did not even turn your head to face him when you responded.

"it's not blackmail," you countered slowly, as nobara raised her brows at you expectantly. "it's... making someone do something... by using... pieces of information... as... leverage!"

"that's literally the definition of blackmail —"

"shut up," you smiled politely.

"megumi!" yuji interrupted, shoving his phone in megumi's face with such enthusiasm, you would have thought he just found out that he was the chosen one at camp rock. "look!" he shook his phone aggressively. "brazil likes tan lines! no you have to look, megumi! it says they associate it with beach culture!"

megumi grimaced at the screen, his nostrils flaring as he slapped yuji's hand away.

"yeah, 'cause nothing says 'beach culture' like looking like a poorly toasted sandwich," he retorted, scowling when someone on the other table had shot him a sharp look.

you laughed, met with the sight of yuji in a defensive stance, eyes wide and brows furrowed at the dark haired boy sitting next to you. he was pointing at himself, at the two shades of skin on his neck, his fist clenched which only emphasised the veins running up his hand.

"you keep saying that like i didn't wear sunscreen, but i did!" he snapped, drawing the attention of the people passing by your table. megumi pinched the bridge of his nose as yuji went on, uncaring of the fact that almost every eye in the cafeteria was drawn to the four of you, courtesy of yuji and his unnecessarily loud speech. "i wore the kids one, but it's still sunscreen!"

"what brand?" asked nobara.

"nivea!"

"didn't they run tests for that one and find that it's actually a leading cause for skin cancer in its consumers?" you said, watching his face comically pale as he glanced down at his own hands, a lot darker than what they used to be like before the trip to italy.

yuji's brows knitted together, and the corner of his mouth twitched as if struggling to maintain composure, but the fear creeping into his wide eyes betrayed him. you could see the panic in the way he darted glances between his hands, his arms, and even under the table where his legs were, as though expecting to see something awful already happening.

nobara had taken the opportunity to scare him a little further, making up random statistics about non-existent kids who had reached critical condition due to the sheer amount of the product they'd used, and as she continued, his expression grew more strained, the color slowly draining from his cheeks, leaving him looking almost as pale as the white cast left behind the sunscreen he'd used.

your phone vibrated on the table, the screen lighting up with a text notification. you pressed the button to read it properly.

coffee-hose victim: Check if final pay-check was received

mandy.

you'd check later. you were in no rush, you decided, as you stared at the message briefly, feeling a dull sense of finality wash over you.

both you and megumi had been made redundant after the café shut down over the summer — an abrupt closure that neither of you had seen coming. mandy, your old manager, had been sorting out the final payments for the staff, promising to get things wrapped up even after the little shop was cleared out. now that everything was nearly done, you'd finally be able to delete her number from your phone, erasing the last trace of that chaotic job, of her.

but it also meant finding new jobs, and you refused to work without megumi by your side.

"we need to apply for jobs this week," you told him, showing him your home-screen that had mandy's notification banner at the very top. his eyes followed each word smoothly before looking back up to meet your gaze. "probably not hospitality ever again."

"i'd work at miss B's if she ever let us," said megumi, as you placed your phone back down and silently nodded in agreement. "i like her."

"mind saying that again?" you grinned, lifting it back up and having it hover near his mouth that had been set in a straight line the second he saw your lip curl. "i want to make it my ringtone."

"shut up," he snapped, slapping your wrist away quite like he had done with yuji not even five minutes ago. you laughed but complied anyway. having megumi's voice as a ringtone would make it so that you would never actually pick up the calls. he frowned at you. "come over to mine and we'll apply then."

you threw him a sideways look. "no, you come over to mine."

he furrowed his brows at you.

"what difference does it make?" he asked, his eyes critiquing your every move. nothing out of the ordinary.

you sighed loudly; someone might have assumed you were in the middle of a chore.

"if i see toji, i'm going to be tempted to make fun of him. i'll get distracted," you explained, shaking your head at your friend as though it had been the most easiest thing, and he had failed to understand. "top of the class and yet you're not the exactly the brightest crayon in the box, are you?"

"shut up," he repeated for the second time in the very same minute.

nobara turned her head slowly, deliberately, her sharp eyes narrowing as they landed on megumi. there was a brief, almost theatrical pause before her lips curled slightly at the corners, (the way they did when she was about to say something cutting) as the dim light of the cafeteria above you all caught the sharp angle of her cheekbones.

"megumi, i can not argue with idiot number one," she began, lifting her chin to gesture at a pale yuji, "when you, idiot number two, keep telling someone to shut up. how about you shut up for a change, huh?"

megumi narrowed his eyes at her. "i'm the only one out of the four of us that only speaks when spoken to."

she gawked at him. "you calling us chatterboxes?"

"i'm saying that when either of your mouths open, the stuff that comes out of it is never relevant nor necessary."

the three of you sat in silence, each watching him with different expressions on your faces.

and megumi felt the need to clarify:

"none of your statements are of any substance —"

"we get it!" snapped nobara, her gaze cutting and sharp. she took enough care to kick him beneath the table, which only began the onslaught of physical attacks, one you joined in for the sole purpose of bullying megumi. you thought he deserved it this time.

as the assault continued, something clicked, and you pulled back from the friendly fire. watching megumi's face — strained and faintly exasperated — you remembered something nobara had mentioned weeks ago about the family's international dojo business, which was the zenin's main source of income and how they were so incredibly rich.

it was easy to forget sometimes; the quiet, slightly reserved megumi you knew now didn't quite fit the image of someone being groomed to run an international dojo and martial arts empire, but as he braced himself for nobara's next jab, you couldn't shake the thought: he was taking business classes, which only further supported your idea, and for a moment, you considered the irony of seeing him here, bickering with you all instead of learning the ropes of the large business awaiting him.

"hey," you said, tapping his shoulder and flinching when he turned to look down at you so suddenly.

"what?" he snapped, but only after swiping nobara's timetable off the table and onto the floor when she kicked him on his funny-bone. he was blinking hard at you, as though trying to clear his vision of the black spots contaminating his sight.

"oh excuse me for wanting to help mr dominant-alpha-wolf out," you shot back, hands raised mockingly. when he scowled at you and patiently (yet reluctantly) waited for you to continue, you went on. "talking about applying for jobs, why don't you just get some business experience at ten shadows?"

the zenin clan's dojo, ten shadows, specialised in jujutsu — a tradition they shared with the gojo's and, of course, the kamo clan too. it was where uncle ogi spent most of his time in, and where toji spent none of his time in.

megumi didn't seem to like that idea, regarding you with furrowed brows and a scrunched nose.

"so i can spend all day with uncle ogi?" he retorted, and despite your initial idea still standing tall in your mind, you had to silently admit to yourself that he raised a good point. uncle ogi was funny when he was angry (which tended to be ninety-nine percent of the time) but you could only take so much of that in one day. knowing him, he'd probably force you to work nightshifts with no breaks. "no thanks," megumi voiced, unimpressed with the suggestion.

"why don't you just lie on your application forms and stuff?" yuji suggested, his mouth in a straight line. it seemed that he had not got over the sunscreen scare just yet. "i did."

"you lied about working at ten shadows?" you asked, brows raised and eyes wide. "that's an international dojo. they go world-wide. global. your employers will find out."

yuji shook his head, raising his hand to wave it at you dismissively. "no, not there," he scoffed, smiling widely. "what do you think i am, huh? stupid?"

no one said anything; he sat up defensively.

"hey —"

"so what place did you lie about then?" nobara cut through him, literally pulling him out of his stance by his elbow.

he shrugged her off with a scowl, but answered nonetheless.

"gojo said i could say i worked at his family's pharmacy."

everyone around the table went still, eyes widening as they processed what yuji had just casually revealed. megumi blinked, caught off guard, while you tilted your head, brows raised at his unexpected response. it was only nobara, however, who looked thoroughly impressed, her lips curling as she nudged him with a newfound admiration and yuji, oblivious to the stir he'd just caused, seemed to enjoy the brief, astonished silence hanging over the table.

"it's cool, right?" he voiced loudly, grinning. "he said i should write that i worked at one of his biotechnology firms, but if the interviewer asked me questions about it, i'd never know how to answer 'em."

megumi shot him a look.

"what do you know about pharmacies?" he demanded, watching yuji shrug confidently.

"you gotta answer some calls, make requests. er... stock up on the medicine and stuff," he mumbled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully and nodding. it looked like he was actually thinking hard about it. "deal with old ladies... and old men... er... yeah!"

"i'm putting that on my application too, then," said nobara, nodding. she made eye contact with a stoic megumi. "and you should too. only, with your family's business."

"no," the dark-haired boy responded, glowering at the three of you. "it's not genuine."

"oh here we go again," you sighed, rolling your eyes.

it had been the same situation two years ago with his easy position on the football team, when yaga offered him a vacant spot without the requirement of turning up to try-outs. megumi truly believed that if the offer was given solely to him, it was disingenuous and unfair, therefore accepting what was rightfully presented would also be disingenuous and unfair.

lying on an application form with security knowing that his family would definitely vouch for him if asked was where he drew the line.

"i'm not the serial liar here," he reminded you all, purposefully meeting your gaze to prove his point; you could have murdered him right there.

"maybe not, but you are the porcupine-hedgehog-sea-urchin breed here though —"

"you'dknow all about sea urchins, mermai—"

he left school that day with a small bump on the side of his head and a lesson still unlearned: do not mention the mermaid incident of two-thousand and eleven.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the hallway stretched ahead, brightly lit by fluorescent lights overhead that reflected off pale, polished floors. blue lockers lined either side, their surfaces a mix of chipped paint and stickers left from previous years, giving a lived-in look to the corridor's otherwise sterile presentation.

as you and megumi walked past several groups of people — some leaning against lockers, others conversing on the floor — you nudged him on his side.

"where do you usually sit?" you asked him, turning a corner to enter the corridor with the descending stairs. the two of you walked down them with ease, careful not to trip over that one step at the very bottom that always managed to catch your undone laces and have you stack in front of everyone.

megumi lagged a step behind, and before you could question it, you felt a slight tug on your bag, shifting it side to side. as you neared his homeroom, the faint sound of your zipper sliding into place caught your attention — he'd just fastened it for you without a word.

when he came back to your side to match your pace, you grinned up at his scowling face.

"thank you, porcupine!" you said brightly.

he adjusted the strap of his schoolbag, simple and black, and grunted, his form of acknowledgement.

you nudged him again, this time with your hip. "you didn't answer my question."

he shot you a sharp look, as though warning you not to test his patience. it wasn't like you'd ever heeded the warning in all the years you'd known him for, and yet you were still living and breathing and walking, alive and well.

"shouldn't matter to you," he responded, but only when it had become clear that you were not going to budge on it. megumi continued to face ahead, watching his steps as he spoke. "we're not in the same class and you won't be allowed in."

"ah, but if my memory serves me correctly," you beamed, sliding in between several seniors who were blocking the hallway to get to his class, and he shadowed you, right by the back of your heels, "you said the exact same thing in kindergarten and then they changed my name in the register so i was in your class permanently."

"set my fate with that dumb decision."

"hey," you frowned, looking at him from over your shoulder and furrowing your brows, lips set in a straight line. "that's rude."

megumi didn't grace you with a response to that, only following in your footsteps as you managed to squeeze past the groups of people huddled in the middle of the narrow corridor.

"besides," you began, once the two of you were walking side-by-side again, "if that decision wasn't made, you'd have a boring life, porcupine."

as the two of you neared megumi's classroom, the energy of the hallway shifted — voices grew louder, students lingered in clumps near the door, waiting to slip in just before the bell rang. it did tend to annoy you when they'd stand in a huddle and make it difficult to walk properly, but you'd gotten used to it after the first couple of weeks starting high school for the first time.

the sharp lines of megumi's face settled into something halfway between annoyance and resignation, his brows pinched, and his jaw clenched slightly as though he were biting back a retort. he shot you a sidelong glance, and for a moment, a split second in time, his expression softened — if you didn't know him that well, you might have thought you imagined it — almost as if he were mulling over what you'd said before huffing quietly, that familiar scowl reappearing on his face as he straightened his posture, ready to brush you off as he always did.

"you don't believe me?" you questioned, amused.

"it'd be stupid of me to believe someone who has a criminal history of lying," he grumbled, eyes half-lidded as though the answer had been obvious enough for a five year old to guess. arguably, you thought the five year old version of him probably would have said the exact same line, word for word. he had been too grown to actually be a kid.

"lying is part of my major," you reminded him, brows raised. "that's why i'm always the lead in the plays."

megumi averted his gaze, grumpy. "my bad. i thought you threatened everyone for the role —"

"i'm not a delinquent like you," you told him, smiling, and when he made a move to pinch you on your side, you dramatically flattened yourself against the lockers."i'll yell for help!" you hurriedly warned him, eyes cautiously wide as you followed where his pale hand was left outstretched near you.

he narrowed his own at you, contemplating. you could see the cogs turning in his head, thinking, deciding. you helped him make his decision faster by parting your lips, a silent threat. wisely, he retracted his hand, walking to his classroom which was at the end of the corridor, not looking back to see if you would catch up to him.

you did, in fact, catch up to him, if only to prove your initial point:

"if you weren't friends with me, what would you keep yourself entertained with, huh?" you asked, slapping his bag. he threw you a dirty look despite the fact that the hit wasn't enough to even make him stumble. "your non-fiction books? oh, i know a great non-fiction joke for you!"

"leave me alone," said megumi, glowering. "isn't your class down there?"

he gestured to the other end of the corridor.

you ignored him.

"why can't you trust an atom?" you asked, and when he refused to answer, instead choosing to duck under miss zaid's oustretched arm to go inside his class, you answered anyway, halting by the door because she stepped in front of you. "because they make up everythi— oh hey miss zaid!"

the teacher in question took back her arm and folded it over her chest, leaning against the door frame to block your entrance. you looked around, over your shoulder and around the corridor, before looking back up at her and smiling.

"who are you standing guard for?" you asked brightly. "can i help?"

"you can," she nodded, jutting her chin in the direction of the end of the hall, her expression half amused and half firm. "by making your way to mrs jenkins's class."

you shook your head firmly.

"but mr gojo said i could stay here instead," you said, expression grave. satoru had said no such thing, but that didn't matter, not to you at least.

"okay," said miss zaid, letting out a long exhale through her nose. "and is mr gojo part of the student advisory?"

your eyes darted left and right, momentarily speechless.

"he owns the pharmacy down the block," you tried, smiling pleasantly.

"and what does that have to do with the school?"

"erm... the first aid stuff in the school —"

the more you blabbered, the more unconvinced she became. you raised your brows at her, stern and serious.

"but my timetable's changed," you informed her, watching as the crease between her brows began to deepen as you spoke. "yeah, it says i'm in this class now."

miss zaid stepped aside to let two other students through. you took the opportunity to try and follow in right after them, only to be stopped when she rapidly stood back in that defensive position again. you frowned — what were you, a danger to the class?

"does it say my name on your timetable?" she asked you, curious.

you nodded.

she extended her hand, making a come hither motion.

"show me your timetable," she'd said, and at that, you froze.

it had been a lie after all. you were hoping to gain entry without the necessary proof. it had, after all, worked last year.

you watched her brows unknit themselves, tilting her head at you expectantly.

you paused.

"miss i really like the colour of your hijab today —"

"go," she interrupted loudly, pointing at the room you were meant to be in, all the way on the other side of the country, "to class, y/n." she looked up and nodded. "hi, yuji — come inside."

you turned and looked over your shoulder. sure enough, yuji was right there, walking alongside junpei, a tall, skinny boy who you had met during middle school in one of yuji's classes. the two were close, and when neither you, megumi nor nobara wanted to watch the weird movies yuji was always invested in, junpei had always been his go-to.

junpei was also in your homeroom class with nobara.

"what're you doing here?" yuji asked you, nodding at junpei when he walked off in the direction you were meant to be going in.

"what am i—" you repeated with a scoff, looking around as though that had been the stupidest question ever asked. "this is my class!"

miss zaid sighed. "y/n," she uttered your name sternly.

"miss, i can knock her out and then carry her to her actual class," yuji offered seriously.

you turned slowly, fixing yuji with a look that could curdle milk, disgust etched across your face, brows pinched and lip curled as though you'd just been asked to eat a pile of socks.

without missing a beat, yuji assumed a playful but overly dramatic fighting stance, feet squared and fists up like he was in some action movie. he bounced lightly, eyes narrowing in mock seriousness as he sized you up. perhaps it would've been almost intimidating if he hadn't grinned halfway through, flashing his teeth in a way that revealed he was completely unserious, and only had you staring at him with that unmoving disgusted expression.

"i appreciate your efforts yuji, but that... won't be necessary," miss zaid added, stepping aside to let him go inside.

"you have a bunch of weirdos in your class," you told her, scowling at the top of his pink head as he ducked under her arm and waved enthusiastically at megumi, who was slouching in his seat at the back of the classroom. "that's why i'm not in it."

and before she could order you to leave again, you stood on your tiptoes and waved at your grumpy friend, blowing kisses and beaming at him.

"bye megumi elizabeth fushiguro!" you yelled, smiling from ear to ear, and bouncing on your toes excitedly. "i'll miss you megumi elizabeth! bye megumi! i love you megumi! i'll miss you megu—"

"all right, i think he heard you," miss zaid nodded, looking over her shoulder to be met with the sight of the dark-haired boy facing the board with such seriousness, it appeared as though the class had already started and he was listening attentively to the non-existent teacher. his eyes would dart back to meet yours, and each time they did, his gaze would harden and his scowl would deepen.

"did i tell you how much i'll miss you, megumi?" you added loudly.

"y/n, don't make me write you up and give you a detention," said miss zaid, watching as you waved a hand at her and walked off.

"all right, all right, i'm going," you grumbled, turning on your heel and strolling down the hallway.

as you moved farther away, miss zaid's voice echoed faintly behind you, catching you off guard as she questioned whether megumi's middle name was actually elizabeth, her tone somewhere between bemusement and scepticism.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the boys' locker room was a space with rows of navy-blue metal lockers, their surfaces chipped and dented from years of use. megumi unlocked his and shoved his school pants inside, the overhead fluorescent lights casting a sharp, sterile glow over the room, bright enough to reflect off the scuffed tiled floor where several of his teammates were sitting, tying their shoelaces. other members of his team, including yuta, yuji, and toge, sat on the wooden benches that ran parallel to the lockers, worn and slightly uneven in places, each spot marked by countless cleats and gear bags left by players.

chad had been complaining about the faint smell of old sweat and disinfectant that clung to the air, mingling with the metallic scent of the lockers, and despite megumi not conversing with the rest, he silently agreed.

where the few hooks were attached along the walls (each draped with stray jerseys, hoodies, and extra uniforms) megumi glanced down at his own, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips. he would need to get a new one — he had outgrown the one he'd just got over the summer.

he didn't know whether he should be pleased or annoyed: perhaps both.

"yaga's gonna murder you if you don't have that game plan ready for today, todo," one of the guys — oliver martin, megumi realised — had said.

todo had been quick to retort:

"this was way more important!"

in the back corner where todo stood tall, a whiteboard was propped up with play diagrams still faintly visible from last practice, but the deep lining of blue marker that formed a surprisingly accurate drawing of nobuko takada (a japanese pop idol who todo had mentioned several times that he'd die for) took up the rest of the board.

he kicked a couple of duffel bags that slouched nearby, stuffed with tangled shin guards, socks, and forgotten water bottles, before speaking in that excessively loud voice of his.

"if any of you, except for my brother yuji, can give me your type of woman that's valid," he began, only warranting several groans and protests from every member in the room, "i'll come up with a game plan so you don't have to!"

kamo, who had been minding his own business up until now, slammed his locker door shut and stared up at the demanding team captain, eyes half-lidded.

"you did this last time and then tried to attack chad," he reminded him, and chad, who had been sitting on the bench slouched over, sat up and shook his head, disappointed.

"yeah, dude," he spoke breathily, visibly upset, "and that wasn't cool."

"YOUR TYPE ISN'T COOL —"

"relax," said kamo, which prompted everyone else to follow and agree.

todo's gaze snapped towards kamo, lingering a beat too long, his eyes narrowing in an expression that balanced somewhere between irritation and threat, his jaw clenching as he sized him up, lips pressing into a thin line, as though silently daring him to say more.

"what's your type then?" demanded todo, pointing at an unfazed kamo who simply raised a brow and turned away, seemingly uninterested in participating in this game todo enjoyed so much. "HEY! I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

kamo stared at him again, deadpanned. "sorry, didn't notice."

"every single one of us have said our type except for you, man," andre johnson added, momentarily shirtless just to speak before pulling his head through his blue jersey. "just say it."

"i actually wanna know what your type is," said yuji, interested. "i can't imagine you with anyone, kamo."

majority of the guys in the room collectively voiced their agreement. megumi silently agreed too — kamo never showed interest in anything other than his hobbies, like football. the hum of the vent overhead was steady as the low, animated chatter continued, todo waiting for an answer impatiently by the whiteboard.

"loner."

kamo placed one foot on the bench, bending down to tie his laces together. "liked you better when you were mute, toge," he said, though not unkindly.

"he likes a tall girl with a big ass, okay?" logan parker intervened, sighing audibly. "he told me, all right?"

kamo turned to logan, his expression deadpan, unimpressed by the sudden revelation. the lack of humour in his gaze spoke volumes, making it painfully obvious to megumi that kamo had never confided in logan about such a preference.

his straightforward nature, megumi had decided, left no room for such casual gossip, and it was hard to believe that he would ever engage in a conversation about his personal preferences with someone as prone to exaggeration as logan.

"is that true?" todo demanded almost immediately after logan had added his false input.

kamo tied his hair back, looking uncaring and tired. "no."

todo clenched his fists.

"your type can't be that bad," he said, looking around before his eyes landed on megumi, who was now sitting on the bench beside yuta, staring at nothing in particular. "bet it's not like fushiguro's — which is BORING,by the way!"

megumi looked up at the mention of his name and scowled.

everyone had immediately come to his defence, telling todo to 'cut it out' and to 'leave him alone', but it still didn't remove the absent sting he felt on the side of his head when todo had made an attempt to attack him (and had also been very nearly successful in doing so).

during freshman year of high school, when the football team had been formed and established, everyone was made to introduce themselves to each other, which was where the drama had begun. long story short: todo had asked for megumi's type in women, megumi answered unsatisfactorily ('i don't have a preference, so long as she's compassionate and has an unshakeable character') which resulted in a traumatic experience of attempted murder — as yuji had called it.

"todo, get over it!"

"yeah, dude, you literally pressured him for it!"

"it just wasn't cool, dude..."

"man, you a weirdo!"

"HIS TYPE IS BORING!" todo roared, throwing the marker he had in his hand somewhere behind himself. "NO IT'S STARTING TO PISS ME OFF! NO IT'S STARTING TO— I SHOULD —"

he rolled his sleeves up threateningly.

megumi furrowed his brows at him as everyone scrambled to stop the team captain from making a decision that would get him suspended from the school entirely.

"WOAH, WOAH, WOAH —"

"— TODO MAN —"

"— BRO CHILL —"

"— CALM DOWN —"

"stop, you're gonna make megumi sad!" yuji added fiercely, before extending an arm past both toge and yuta to grab his arm. todo had turned away, chest heaving and shoulders shaking as logan and chad patted his back as though trying to silence a wailing baby. "are you okay, megumi?"

the exaggerated, pouting look on yuji's face made megumi want to punch him.

"i'm fine," he grumbled, shrugging yuji's hand off of him, but yuji had remained persistent, forcefully gluing his palm on his front and deepening his look of pity. megumi glared down at his pesky hand.

"it's okay megumi," yuji sorrowfully informed him.

"i said i'm —"

"you don't have to be sad, megumi —"

megumi took his hand and twisted it; yuji yelped and snatched his hand back, frowning as he threw his grumpy friend a pained look.

"little harsh," yuta commented, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.

megumi averted his gaze, half annoyed. "he deserved it."

when toge let out a small chuckle, megumi looked up at the scene before him, half-listening to todo's persistent questioning (he seemed to have got over megumi and his type), the chatter weaving through the room in an easy manner, almost as though megumi hadn't just been targeted for no apparent reason at all two seconds ago. his gaze drifted over to kamo, who, as usual, remained largely unfazed, his expression somewhere between calm and indifferent as todo's relentless interrogation continued.

watching them, megumi's mind wandered slightly — his teammates' voices ebbed and flowed, equal parts curiosity and exasperation filling the space. it was only towards the end of the conversation did megumi actually find something he believed he had mild interest in...

"what's it called when someone doesn't like anyone?" saidoliver, holding his helmet against his side, beneath his arm. "like, when a person just doesn't feel anything?"

"depression," megumi answered bluntly.

every head in the room turned to look at his, some were laughing and some looked unsurprised.

oliver furrowed his brows, disappointed. "dude."

"stop projecting, man."

"bro, you good?"

megumi ignored them, mentally cursing himself for participating in the stupid conversation to begin with. he silently reminded himself to never do so again. perhaps he would note it down somewhere when he got home.

"nah, i meant when like — y'know a guy or a girl — like when they've never liked someone. or had a crush," oliver continued, turning to kamo with a shrug. "maybe you're that. whatever the hell it's called."

"not good enough," todo shook his head, arms folded over his chest in another obvious attempt to look intimidating. "if all you PATHETIC excuses for men, EXCEPT MY BROTHER YUJI, won't give me a valid type right NOW —"

"i like someone," said kamo, pinching the bridge of his nose with an obvious scowl.

everyone froze, looking up at him as though the mere idea of kamo showing interest in anyone was foreign. megumi believed they all had a right to act shocked, not that it was any of their business to begin with.

because it wasn't.

and yet, even to him, it was surprising.

a few of the guys exchanged wide-eyed glances, eyebrows raised, and mouths slightly open, the disbelief clear in their expressions. even todo, typically unshakeable in his boldness, seemed momentarily thrown off balance, his stance faltering as he processed the unexpected confession. a hush seemed to settle over the group of boys, broken only by the quiet sound of kamo's gear as he slung it over his shoulder and moved towards the exit, leaving a wave of curiosity and shock in his wake.

"c'mon man, you can't just say something like that and then leave!" andre said, hurriedly collecting his own gear to follow the stoic boy out of the locker room.

"it's mai, isn't it?" said ethan miller, slamming his locker door shut and staring at the back of kamo's head.

yuji looked at megumi and then back up at ethan. "mai zenin?"

"there's only one mai in the entire school," said ethan, nodding. he called out to kamo again. "i saw you and her speaking like a week ago or somethin'."

kamo turned around, his back to the door as he furrowed his brows, seemingly offended by the accusation.

"no it's not —" he began, letting out a sigh of exhaustion before rolling his eyes. "it's not mai."

"give us SOMETHING, then, and i'll take it!" todo demanded, slamming his hand on the whiteboard with takada on it. uncoincidentally, it landed on her behind.

kamo considered the proposal for a moment, his eyes glancing over every face in the room, nearly all of whom seemed relieved at todo's statement, before he sighed again, muttering something under his breath.

"you know her pretty well," he said, glancing at yuji and then megumi. they barely had the time to register his response before he turned away, pulling open the door to leave. "and that's all you're getting out of me," he added calmly. "so don't bother trying for more."

he left without another word.

the entire room shifted their attention to megumi and yuji, eyes darting between the two as if expecting one of them to unravel kamo's cryptic hint. a few of the guys raised their eyebrows, curiosity and intrigue plastered across their faces. logan nudged chad with a knowing grin, while toge and yuta exchanged speculative glances.

megumi could feel their gazes like a weight, pressing him to acknowledge that he, along with yuji, might know the answer everyone was dying to hear.

he turned his head to face his friend: yuji simply blinked, apparently still wrapping his head around kamo's words. but megumi believed yuji had a better shot at guessing who the mystery girl was. yuji was, after all, a million times more social than him.

as the silence lingered, megumi found himself lost in thought, trying to recall any recent interaction that could hint at kamo's mystery interest. he sifted through memories, wondering if there had been any subtle clues he'd missed — any glances, moments, or lingering exchanges that might narrow it down. kamo's calm, almost detached nature made it hard to picture him in the throes of a crush, but megumi couldn't shake the curiosity that now gnawed at him.

he only knew two girls 'pretty well', and that was you and nobara, but he could not imagine either of you hanging off of kamo's arm. in fact, if anything, he imagined kamo hanging off of nobara's arm (which didn't make sense, seeing as that would be out of character of him). similarly, megumi couldn't imagine you willingly being held back by his arm, instead choosing to skip off into the distance which would surely annoy the serious, long-haired male.

but he was well aware of the fact that nobara and kamo had shared several classes together...

he could still feel everyone's gazes burning holes all over his face, and he scowled, unwilling to give anyone the satisfaction of entertaining the idea too openly.

but it seemed that the team captain did not happen to agree with this sentiment.

"right, new task!" todo called out, clapping his hands to draw everyone's attention away from an unwilling megumi and a confused yuji to himself instead. he had already rubbed out the takada drawing and had begun the game planning. megumi had not realised it until now. "FIND KAMO'S GIRL! and this time next week, we'll gather 'round and narrow it down!"

as everyone nodded and cheered, some making their way out of the room while others lingered and chatted, he called out to both yuji and megumi.

"BROTHER!" he bellowed, pointing at him with the blue marker. "i'm leaving it to you and fushiguro!"

a pause.

"mainly you because i don't trust fushiguro!"

yuji and megumi had already stood up by that point, and megumi's scowl had deepened. it wasn't as though he cared enough to be part of this operation anyway. it was something he'd most likely think about alone, where no one could put in their unintelligent claims and disrupt his wise way of thinking. what did todo know about that anyway?

he looks like a pineapple, megumi thought to himself as he watched him demand both himelf and yuji to deal with the stupid task. and he's about as smart as one too.

"UNDERSTAND?"

"yeah!"

"sure," megumi answered, but he hadn't been paying attention at all.

todo had left the changing room, followed by majority of the team. yuji was the only one left in the room with him.

"i think it's nobara," he said, placing his helmet on his head. "she's extra mean to him 'cause he acts like he knows everything. she hates guys like that."

"that... contradicts your point," said megumi, furrowing his brows.

"no, don't you know that girls act really mean to the guys they like?" yuji chuckled, shaking his head at him as if megumi had very little knowledge. it made the dark-haired boy want to attack his friend. "hey... maybe that's why all the girls on the cheer team are so mean to me! yeah!"

megumi did not remind him of the time yuji had accidentally flashed the cheer team, and that from then on, every member, including the substitutes, would be extra harsh towards him.

"yeah," he said, putting his own helmet on and following yuji out of the room. "that's the reason."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

exiting the theatre classroom, you caught sight of megumi waiting on one of the benches outside, still dressed in his football uniform, his untamed hair still findings ways to stand up on its own despite the fact that it must have been forced down during practice. you almost laughed out loud at the broad shoulder pads and the snug navy-blue jersey that made him look slightly out of place in the hallway, but it was the way his helmet balanced awkwardly on his lap as he stared down at it, clearly impatient, that had you grinning.

you couldn't help but laugh, your voice echoing lightly off the walls as you made your way towards him, amused by how tense he looked even off the field. he looked up at the sound, his eyes narrowing in mild annoyance as he rose to meet you, a faint crease forming between his brows.

"you look angry," you commented teasingly.

"shut up," he muttered, scowling as he lifted the helmet and carefully placed it over your head. it wobbled slightly, oversized and unsteady, making you nearly lose your balance when he gave it a firm pat on top — a solid thump, just hard enough to send a warning, though not enough to hurt.

"it's so uncomfortable," you said, as the two of you made your way to the school gates to leave. "how the hell do you football players wear this for hours on end?"

"with breaks," he answered, and you had to physically move your head upwards to actually be able to see his face, for the lines going over and under the front gap limited the scope of your vision. "you get used to it."

you hummed in response, looking over your shoulder and around the area with curiosity.

"where's yuji?" you asked casually.

"ran for his bus," said megumi, as the two of you had gone past the gates and onto the main road leading to your neighbourhood. "said he didn't wanna take the late one 'cause then he'd have to sit for most of it with todo."

"should've made him late so he'd have to take the late one," you tutted, nearly walking into a lamppost — it was megumi's quick actions that had saved you, tugging you away by your elbow.

"the hell's wrong with you?" he demanded harshly. "your vision isn't completely gone with that on. you're not blind."

"it takes a while to get used to!" you protested, rubbing the top of his helmet as though it were your own scalp. "you said so yourself!"

megumi's expression hardened, his brow furrowing as he shot you a look that seemed to question every life choice that led you to nearly walking into a lamppost. he didn't need to say a word; the look alone was enough to convey his frustration, his mouth set in a thin line as he continued to stare at you with a sort of weary patience that he seemed to reserve just for moments like this.

"stop acting drunk," he ordered, walking a step behind you now. it was as if he assumed that watching over you would prevent your free will from prevailing over his demands.

at some point during the walk home, the conversation had shifted from the limited vision with the helmet, to gossip you had heard during stage practice, to toji and the unethical ways he kept a steady income, to what his teammates were saying in the locker room earlier, something you found yourself quite fascinated with.

"i'd hate to be you, not gonna lie... but what would you have done if todo did attack you?" you asked him, drumming your fingers on the helmet which you still hadn't taken off despite how uncomfortable it felt wearing it. you turned your head (fully) to look at your own reflection in a car mirror by the crosswalk.

you thought you looked ridiculous.

you didn't care.

megumi placed a hand on the centre of his helmet and forced your head to face the front again.

"this is how you end up walking into lampposts," he lectured with a scowl, before placing his hand in the pocket of his shorts and answering your question. "i would've defended myself."

"against todo?" you gaped, stupefied. "no offence, but he'd crush you. he's — like — your dad of our generation."

"don't ever say that again," megumi had been quick to counter, and though you couldn't see it, you knew he was glaring down at you. despite the thick material of the helmet you were wearing, you felt the heat of his gaze, like lasers burning holes where they landed.

he did not like that comparison at all.

you apologised. "sorry. you're the only copy of your dad there is —"

"watch it."

"am i just not allowed to say anything then?" you snapped, your arms flailing about dramatically.

"it's a preference," megumi began, the tone of his voice sly in a way you were very much familiar with and did not like at all, "but i know you won't do it."

you raised a pointer finger defensively. "megumi, if i could see you right now —"

"— it's not that hard —"

"— and if i was as tall as you," you continued as though he hadn't interrupted, "i would head-butt you so bad, you'd wish todo was the one dealing with you."

as the two of you stepped up to the crosswalk, megumi reached out and firmly took hold of your hand, steering you with a purposeful grip so you'd follow his lead across the road. his hold was steady, guiding, yet the pointed glare he cast downwards made it clear he wasn't thrilled with the direction the conversation had taken. even as he glanced from you to the road ahead, his gaze lingered, sharp with irritation, and each time he looked back, it was as if he had been silently reminding you of the absurdity of comparing him to todo — or worse, his dad.

his hand stayed firmly around yours until you were safely on the other side of the street. he let go, only to hit you on the helmet again.

"ow!"

"shut up, that didn't hurt."

you ignored him.

"what happened next?" you queried as you tugged on his jersey and pointed at buttercup brew where miss B was waving at the two of you from behind the glass, entry doors.

you waved back, making sure megumi had too — he was much less enthusiastic, but it was still enough to please miss B, who went back to working, leaving the two of you to continue the short walk home.

megumi answered idly. "kamo said he likes someone."

your eyes widened, and if it hadn't been for his outstretched arm once again, you would have tripped over your own foot.

"WHAT?"

"for fu— be careful —"

"noritoshi kamo?" you gasped, walking alongside megumi in visible and audible shock.

the best way to describe noritoshi kamo, you decided, was a guy who had no care in the world for anything: he lost a shoe? he'd buy a new one. you lost his homework sheet you'd been copying from? he'd quickly make a new one. he lost a football game? the next one would be better.

noritoshi kamo was no optimist, but he was definitely not someone capable of romantic feelings for anyone.

or so you had thought...

"everyone just started guessing who," megumi added, frowning.

"and did they guess right?" you pressed, intrigued. "who is it?"

your dark-haired friend shrugged, which resulted in your shoulders deflating, immediately disappointed before he'd even said anything.

"that's the thing," megumi said, unbothered. "he didn't say anything about it."

"well that was anti-climactic," you mumbled, turning a corner and seeing both your houses in the distance.

the walk was nearly over, so you lifted the helmet off your head, shook your hair away from your face, and held it beneath your arm. you appreciated just how large your field of vision was now. the helmet had been pesky, hot, and annoying.

"and i'm out of gossip," you sighed, allowing the summer breeze to flow past your face, the air feeling nice against your skin. "wish nobara was here. she always has something to talk about."

"he said something in the end though. when todo forced him."

you were surprised your head hadn't popped right off your neck with how fast you'd turned it to look up and lock eyes with him. megumi needed to work on how he told and relayed stories — this was by far the worst one he'd ever done.

"well?" you prompted, stressed that the walk was shortening the closer you got to your houses.

"yuji and i know her pretty well," said megumi at last, brows furrowed as you handed him his helmet. when you raised a brow at him, visibly confused, he scowled. "his words, not mine."

the thought lingered, growing heavier as you replayed kamo's words in your mind: someone yuji and megumi know pretty well...

your brows knitted together as you tried to piece it together, replaying moments you'd seen kamo interact with people you that were close with both yuji and megumi. the issue here was that megumi's anti-social nature narrowed it down to two people:

you or nobara.

you knew with certainty it couldn't be you. you had had a fair few conversations with the male, but nothing that you could pick apart and decide that he had any interest in you. it was mostly just random, fun situations, like the time you had accidentally triggered malakai and requested kamo to support your statement that it hadn't been you, only to blame it on him (kamo) in the end.

that should make him dislike you, if anything. at the time, however, he didn't seem to care.

could nobara be the girl he liked?

that was something you'd have to ask her, though you highly doubted it. you knew her quite well, and no guy had caught her interest. at least, not at jujutsu high, where she mainly criticised the male gender and grew new icks every day that went by.

for the fun of it, you still asked megumi whether it could be possible that someone could have a crush on you.

his reaction, however, had you visibly startled.

he averted his gaze, his shoulders stiffening as though unsure of how to respond. you waited, but his silence lingered, and his eyes seemed to dart briefly to the ground, almost as if he'd been caught off guard by your question.

your brows raised as you bit back a smile. it was rare to see him hesitate like this — normally, he'd offer some blunt response or scowl and move on, but now, an uncharacteristic awkwardness settled over him, and it looked almost as if he was bracing himself, unable to fully meet your gaze.

"no," he finally settled on saying, walking you to your door as he always would when going home together.

"you hesitated," you informed him knowingly.

"i was thinking of how long it'd take for you to scare them off," megumi shot back, ringing the doorbell for you.

you watched him walk off the porch, hearing footsteps echo from behind the front door as you hummed, nodding.

"nice save," you told him, relishing in his scowl, the last thing you saw on his face before your mom had opened the door and allowed you in, closing it behind you after telling megumi to come inside — he had refused like the delinquent porcupine he was.

and as megumi made his way over to his own porch, he realised that for the first time ever, he couldn't help the feeling of relief after ending a conversation with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

the helicopter incident of 2016...

"what the fuck?"

megumi staggered away from the three of you —yourself, yuji, and nobara — craning his neck in a desperate attempt to peer over his shoulder at his own backside. bewildered, he muttered to himself, trying to comprehend why his so-called friends had just collectively ambushed him, each having touched his bottom once before guffawing loudly. what had you all done to him?

he made his way to the back door (but not before throwing the three of you a menacing glare) using the reflection of the glass as a mirror.

he was left horrified at the sight of three different handprints made out of neon paint colours (bright yellow, vibrant pink, and an intense lime) on the most compromising part of his pants:

his ass.

"shit — look at his face," you gasped, chest heaving at his expression. "take a picture with — catch it! — my phone."

you tossed your phone to nobara, who, unlike you and yuji, had the least amount of paint coating her delicate hands. meanwhile megumi's had shot to cover his behind as he whipped around, fixing the three of you with a glare so fierce, it might have turned a lesser person to stone.

flash! flash! flash!

nobara had captured his expressions, postures, and stances before he had a chance to compose himself into something less revealing.

as you took your phone out of nobara's hands, your attention had been drawn to a growing commotion behind you, distant shouts and laughter cutting through the playful chaos around megumi. you tossed a quick, amused glance back at nobara and yuji, both of whom were doubled over in laughter, still entirely focused on your collective attack on megumi, before aiming the lens on your phone not at your porcupine's flustered face, but at the source of the noise in the distance, recording just in time to capture a particularly raucous burst of laughter that had echoed around the backyard.

toji, towering and muscular, stood with his arms flat against his sides, looking both impatient and exasperated as satoru (in front of him) and suguru (behind him) launched paint-filled balloons at him. each balloon splattered bright colours across his chest, only to be rebuffed by his broad, muscular torso in what seemed like a defiant bounce.

splashes of paint exploded across his 'man-tits,' as satoru had so eloquently called them, left bright patches on his shirt as he glared at the two childish men surrounding him, chest heaving and fists clenched.

"shit!"satoru took several steps back, looking down at his own chest where the balloon he'd thrown at toji had bounced back at himself instead, splattering his white shirt with bright blue. he looked up at suguru, eyes wide behind his glasses. "that one came from his right titty —"

suguru laughed, throwing a paint balloon up in the air, catching it, and then launching it at the oddly-silent toji.

only for it to bounce back, just as expected. he had stepped aside just in time. "and that one came from his left breast —"

the veins running up toji's hands and arms grew more prominent as the two continued.

"HA!" satoru pointed at his chest. "toji? more like titty —"

suguru shook his head with a sigh. "satoru, don't be childish," he said, and his best friend actually paused, brows raised in surprise. that was before suguru had clarified: "he's big titty toji —"

SPLAT!

when satoru swung his arm around in a dramatic manner while laughing, he had accidentally released another paint ballon straight at the ticking time bomb that was toji fushiguro.

he only laughed harder at that.

"look guys!" he called out to the rest of you. you zoomed in on the scene — satoru's arms were outstretched, presenting toji as if he was some special, endangered animal, rare and one-of-a-kind. "it's toji titty-guro—"

without warning, toji's arms shot out, his hands seizing both satoru and suguru by the collars of their shirts with effortless strength. you couldn't see his face, so you were unsure of whether he had been grinning, or neutral, or angry, etc, but you watched in both horror and amusement as he began to spin, dragging them with him in a rapid, dizzying circle.

every other commotion around the backyard had stopped, everyone turning to look at the odd scene, equal parts confused and terrified.

toji's feet dug into the ground, kicking up small clouds of dust, while satoru and suguru both flailed helplessly at his sides, their limbs whipping outwards as if they were rag dolls caught in a whirlwind.

a whirlwind...

"it's a tornado!" you yelled, looking around and trying hard to keep your phone steady, but the scene was so funny, your hands were shaking with the effort.

toji's powerful grip and force turned their attempts to wriggle free into nothing more than frantic gestures, their faces a mix of shock and a hint of terror as they were spun around faster and faster...

you zoomed out to capture mamaguro at the back, watching the scene with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows.

"are you gonna stop your... husband...?" you heard your mom question, sounding completely weirded out. and honestly — who could blame her?

what the hell was happening in the fushiguros' backyard?

"i... would," mamaguro muttered, carefully watching the scene continue to unfold before her, getting worse as time went on, "but... how?"

there was no opening for her to enter, you noticed. if she tried, she'd get caught up in the spinning andget severely injured too...

you couldn't believe what was happening before your eyes. you didn't know what was happening before your eyes. you didn't think you'd ever know what was happening before your eyes.

from your peripheral vision, you could see a stick of yellow just lingering awkwardly, and when you turned your head to glance at it, you nearly face palmed when you realised it was your father in his banana body-suit outfit. the only thing visible about him was the gap where his face rested. everything else, from his head, to his figure, to his shoulders, to his thighs, and to the majority of his legs, were all concealed by the thick material.

"that looks fun!" he commented brightly, a dopy smile over his face. he made an attempt to waddle over to the unnatural disaster. "i'm gonna join —"

"no, no," your mom was quick to hold him back by his banana-shaped body. she ushered him to the side, shaking her head violently. "no, honey, no. just... you're not going over there."

surprisingly, despite several minutes having gone by, the disaster was still going. in fact, everyone had believed it to be finished when toji had stopped (revealing the other dishevelled men stumbling over their own footsteps) only for the man to spin himself around only and charge at the duo again.

violently.

"round two!" you called out, startled. "round two or — or — er — round one point five since it never... it never finished, technically — oh my god —"

you focused your camera around the backyard, spotting mai climbing over the fence. her eyes met your phone, and she disappeared behind the wall without a second thought.

wise, you thought to yourself, wondering if mimiko and nanako had done the same, for despite several pans of the large area, your camera could not seem to find them.

a bellow erupted across the scene, stopping everything and everyone cold in their tracks. you turned, a jolt running down your spine at the sight of ogi and the sound of his voice thundering through the air — you fumbled to stop your recording in a panic, heart pounding.

a wave of silence blanketed the chaos.

toji froze mid-spin, his arms still outstretched, while satoru and suguru, dishevelled and breathless, stared up from the ground, shock and trauma wiping away their usual confidence. megumi, still clutching his rear, went pale, his expression stiffening as he shrank further into his hiding place. your dad, in his ridiculous banana costume, managed a sheepish, guilty smile, while mamaguro blinked, bewildered, glancing between her husband and the mess of people sprawled about. tsumiki giggled softly in the corner, the only one unfazed, her amusement uncontained. in the abrupt stillness, ogi's glare was sharp enough to cut through steel, as if daring anyone to make the next move.

"WHAT," he demanded, voice booming, "IS GOING ON HERE?"

there was only silence that followed his question as he slowly entered the backyard, paint and balloons all over the grass and fences, a mess.

"AN EVENT ORGANISED TO ENCOURAGE NORMALCY, AND THIS FAMILY CAN'T EVEN DO THAT!"

his eyes, cold and sharp, darted to megumi, whose back was flat against the fence.

"THE VERY PROGENY OF THE ZENIN CLAN — WITH RAINBOW HANDPRINTS ON HIS GODDAMN ASS!"

megumi's cheeks burned as he scowled. it didn't help that yuji and nobara were still holding back their laughter too.

"AND YOU!" ogi turned to a normal (now?) toji, looking him up and down with such disgust, you'd think he were staring at a homicide scene. it might have actually been one, to be fair. "I CANT EVEN SAY THAT YOU'RE PART OF MY BLOODLINE! WHAT WAS THIS, A RE-ENACTMENT OF KAMIKAZE?"

toji scoffed, throwing satoru a glare. "he was the pilot —"

satoru stood up almost immediately. "you were the helicopter —"

"SIT DOWN."

despite his obvious reluctance, satoru silently complied.

ogi took this as a sign to continue, glowering menacingly at the white-haired, dark-haired duo. now, literal partners in crime.

"WE GOT SPONGEBOB AND PATRICK OVER HERE, DOING GOD-KNOWS-WHAT. WHY IS YOUR HAIR A MESS AND WHY ARE YOUR GLASSES BROKEN?"

satoru reached up to take his glasses off, hanging in an odd, desperate position over the bridge of his nose, a pout on his face at the sight of the irreparable damage.

he glared at toji from over his shoulder. "HEY —"

"OI LEAVE HIM ALONE!" ogi was quick to add, irate. "IF YOU HADN'T BOTHERED HIM, MAYBE HE WOULDN'T HAVE MADE AN ATTEMPT TO ELIMINATE THE TWO OF YOU FROM EXISTENCE!"

he rubbed his hands over his wrinkled face, before starting at the two men again.

"NO, I'LL TELL YOU WHY THE BOTH OF YOU LOOK LIKE THIS, IT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE BEHAVING LIKE MONKEYS — I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT GETO!" he added harshly, for suguru had an oddly deep hatred for the animal and whichever family it comes from, and had seemed particularly offended with ogi's comment. "I MEAN LOOK AT THE STATE OF YOU! YOU LOOK LIKE MAI'S FIRST GRADE ART PROJECT THAT I THREW IN THE TRASH —"

maki, who had been lingering at the back with your mom stepped forward despite your mom's silent actions not to.

"you threw that away?" she questioned, eyes narrowed behind her round, clear glasses. "she spent years attacking me for it —"

ogi's hardened expression had faltered slightly, a look of pain crossing his features. you were certain it was more about getting caught than the actual issue at hand.

"yeah, yeah, it was you that threw it," he mindlessly replied, before his jaw had clenched harder than before. "SPEAKING OF, WHERE THE HELL IS YOUR SISTER?"

maki sniffed, irritated. "i don't —"

"this has that luke kid written all over it," ogi interrupted, uncaring of maki. "GREAT! SO I'VE GOT A RUNAWAY BRIDE, AND TWEEDLE DEE AND TWEEDLE DUM ARE MISSING. PROBABLY AT THE ZOO ACTING LIKE THEIR FATHER — SHUT IT GETO."

he swivelled on the spot, his long hair whipping behind himself as his eyes zeroed in on your father, still in that banana costume of his.

"AND YOU — GET RID OF THAT RIDICULOUS COSTUME! THEY MIGHT WANNA EAT YOU NEXT — TRYNA JOIN THE HELICOPTER WITH HIS IDIOCY!"

your father frowned, but still made an attempt at trying to unzip himself. his arms, however, were much too short to go around the costume and reach the zipper.

"well it's kinda..." he murmured, bending his knees for a better angle, "stuck... i need some... help... here... honey?"

your mom turned away, drinking her lemonade with raised brows. "who's honey?"

uncle ogi had had enough. "G-GET BACK HERE AND TAKE HIS STUPID COSTUME OFF OF HIM!"

your mom turned back around, but her eyes were darting over the place as though ogi was speaking to anyone but her.

"IT'S YOUR CARELESS BEHAVIOUR THAT'S MADE HIM BELIEVE IT'S OKAY TO WEAR STUFF LIKE THAT. I'M GETTING A HEATSTROKE JUST LOOKING AT HIM!"

she glanced at her husband, watching him fall backwards due to his failed attempt at bending his knees to reach his own zipper.

she muttered under her breath: "you'd think that men would have a mind of their own..."

"YOU'RE NOT OFF THE HOOK EITHER TSUMIKI, I EXPECTED MORE FROM YOU. LAUGHING — ENCOURAGING THIS BEHAVIOUR?" he started, typically unusual, for tsumiki was never the one in trouble. today was full of surprises. he raised an accusatory pointer finger at her. "YOU WANNA BE A MOTHER SOMEDAY? YOU BETTER HOPE THEY DON'T TURN OUT LIKE THESE IDIOTS."

his eyes darted over you all in one massive circle, his mouth in a straight line.

"THIS FAMILY'S A DISGRACE TO THE ZENIN NAME —"

"not even a zenin," satoru grumbled to himself.

"yeah, neither am i," suguru agreed, blowing his bangs away from his face.

"i'm literally a l/n," you mumbled to yourself.

toji dusted himself off. "my son's not a zenin."

"THE POINT IS... YOU'VE SUMMONED THE WHOLE OF BIKINI BOTTOM TO RECORD US!" uncle ogi roared, pointing at the neighbours peeking over the fences with their phones at hand. you couldn't bring it in yourself to blame them. if you had seen the same scene happen elsewhere, you would have recorded it too.

you had recorded it, not that uncle ogi needed to know that...

"WHY ARE WE LETTING PEASANTS MAKE A LAUGHING STOCK OUT OF US?" he demanded loudly. he aggressively turned to mr smith, a white, bald man from just down the block. "OI YOU, GET RID OF THAT CAMERA BEFORE I GIVE YOU A REASON TO TAKE ME TO COURT!"

he turned to mamaguro, eyes widening at the sight of her.

"i nearly forgot about you..." he began, before taking everyone by surprise by the sheer volume of his voice, as though he hadn't been speaking that way for the past five minutes. "YOU WERE THE BRAINS BEHIND THIS ALL. WHAT MADE YOU THINK THAT THIS FAMILY COULD DO ANY EVENT WITHIN THE REALM OF HOW NORMAL OR MESSY IT SHOULD BE? THAT THEY WOULDN'T PUT THEIR STUPID TOES OUT OF LINE? THAT THEY'D BE SENSIBLE —"

"now hang on a minute," said mamaguro, her kind voice shaky, "this is not my fault! my colleague recommended a —"

"WHAT DOES YOUR COLLEAGUE KNOW ABOUT THIS FAMILY?" ogi snapped harshly. "NO BETTER THAN YOU, CLEARLY!"

he let out a deep exhale, but the tension in his temple and shoulders remained as he slowly turned around to face you. you were stunned in place, unmoving, unsmiling, unsure of what to do with yourself, in fact.

you only carefully made sure the camera was out of his sight, hidden in your back pocket where he'd have no clue that you had been recording earlier.

"AND FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE-TIME, THIS ONE WASN'T INVOLVED IN ANY OF IT!"

you nodded proudly, mimicking his words silently behind him, pointing at satoru, pointing at suguru, even pointing at your mom.

"DIDNT EVEN START IT!" he continued loudly.

for this one, you specifically made sure to mouth the words to megumi, who you could tell, just from his cruel facial expressions, wanted nothing more than to out you right then and there, but for the first time ever, it was your word against his, and with the way things were going, you were bound to win, no difficulty.

"THIS WILL GO DOWN IN THE HISTORY BOOKS, I TELL YOU! how SHE became the role-model for you dimwits."

"role model," you mouthed, pointing at everyone. "for you, for you, and especially," you made sure to swivel your finger in a circle this time, "you."

toji gritted his teeth at you, but said nothing. you grinned confidently.

uncle ogi turned away again, eyes closed shut as he sighed audibly, a vein on his forehead threatening to burst. it only popped up again when he found yuji and nobara staring back at him.

"AND WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TWO?"

"damn... you'd think he'd know our names by now," yuji commented, rubbing his neck with shame.

"right," nodded nobara, shaking her head. "so rude."

"friends of yours?" uncle ogi turned to you, speaking in that gruff tone he usually had. but it was significantly different to the way he had been speaking to the rest of the family today. you mentally giggled to yourself as you nodded. "fine."

he glared down at satoru and suguru, eyes twitching at the mess of pain all over their white shirts, brows furrowing at the mess maid of their hairs, and lips pursing at the broken glasses satoru was still clinging onto.

"you two..." he began, voice rough and firm. "go to shoko, just go."

satoru sat up defiantly. "i don't need —"

"NOW."

satoru and suguru did their walk of shame out of the backyard.

everyone had done theirs at some point.

everyone, you noted with a pleasant smile, except for you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

notes: the scariest event for halloween imo, is the helicopter incident. the zenin-fushiguro-gojo-l/n-geto family would agree. wbu guys???

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i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

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actiaslunaris · 1 year ago

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Regina ‘live-watches’ Last Man: Zenmou no Sousakan S01E06.

This time up, a hostage situation -- which seems straightforward at first.

This episode is prefaced by a content warning of the 'barricading situation' and ends with a reference to and blessing for the victims of a similar situation in real life.

[Sidenote: I find this approach interesting because events like this happening in an American drama get the episode pulled, especially if they happen very close to the airdate. I'd be interested to know if that is at all standard procedure in Japan.]

I will also point out that there are scenes of child endangerment.

Everyone else is having a good time at the Godo patriarch's birthday party but Godo certainly isn't.

Oh, he's remembering a past incident. Aww.

And, immediately we're dumped into the case of the week.

Ah hah, this conflict between Minami and Arai of the equivalent to SWAT here (I'm assuming) is like watching the pissing contest between Lieutenant Reed and Major Hayes on Enterprise.

Godo is very concerned about Minami, ostensibly so that Minami won't cause trouble, but there's a bit more there, methinks. More than what existed before.

Godo: *leaves* Minami: *trades himself for a hostage*

Godo specifically tells Minami not to do anything rash and Minami goes and does that immediately. *facepalm* Yes, that's why the warning. Gosh.

Listen.

Telling the person you trust to be your eyes you have that much trust in them is as much a burden as an act of faith. That said, I love the relationship between Minami and Agatsuma so much, guys, so so much.

Get him, Sakura. Yes, good.

All of the teamwork in this episode is splendid, conflicts and otherwise.

Is Minami okay? Well... of course he is but suspense!

Prime whump, y'all. Good stuff. I like actual injury a bit more than what this show is giving me, but threat of imminent danger/death does it for me quite well, too.

At least Arai and Minami reach consensus faster than Hayes and Reed. (Also, how dare Masha have so much chemistry with everyone he works with. How do he do it?)

Such a tense episode. I like how it kept me guessing as it was telling the story, but also gives enough clues that I'm just a step behind whatever it's doing. That is excellent narrative. Well done, writer.

And there's just enough pause amidst the action to comment on the perpetrator's motivation. Minami's emotional intelligence is so refreshing to see.

Aw, this final scene with Godo senior is lovely. Adorable. Not overly sentimental, just the right touch of sweet.

My heart breaks.

Okay, so I know the angst of the revelation that's coming with Godo discovering that Minami has kept his true reason for coming to Japan away from him will probably not be as much as is being telegraphed before it's worked out. At least, that's my expectation. The focus of these stories isn't to wallow, but to just have enough conflict that the audience stays invested.

It's a good thing that we're being given the viewpoints of those around Godo before he finds out, since that both ratchets up the investiture and takes sting out of the eventual fallout. At least, that is, from Godo and his own personal entanglement with Minami. You see, I have the sense that when Godo discovers that his entire family kept this from him, he'll be more angry with them, and they stand a better chance of being able to mollify him, as well.

That doesn't mean that it's going to be any easier to watch.

Speculation: I think Minami has always intended to get close to Godo, perhaps to use him as is speculated by Izumi at the end of this episode, but not with ill intention.

Minami is, without a doubt, a naturally charming person, but a lot of what he was doing with Godo at the beginning was aggressively charming, even obnoxious. It's evened out over the course of the six episodes as he's gotten to know Godo.

Yes, he's been gently prying information out of Godo about his father, but none of it seems to come from a place of malice. Additionally, the information Minami is seeking has changed a bit, as when he attempted to discover Godo's favorite food -- that has nothing to do with what he wants to know. That comes from a personal interest and you can see how it affected Minami when Godo gave his answer. There was a shift in his perception, an understanding of Godo's internal viewpoint.

It's clear to me that he's very aware that what he's doing is disingenuous, because he was the one that offered to Godo complete usage of his own skills, from the very start. It's a way of dealing with the dishonesty of it, a silent quid pro quo.

I also think Minami came to the conclusion at that point of that shift in understanding to continue to keep his intentions secret from Godo, conducting this investigation on the sly in the hopes that his suspicions are not correct; that Godo's father will be absolved of his actions. He's doing it secretly because he doesn't know what he'll find. It could go either way, and in that case, he's the only one that wants to be hurt by it.

Perhaps his motivation in being friends -- genuine friends -- is to indicate that he's come to peace about what happened to his parents. That he understands Godo is himself innocent of his father's crimes.

And, if Minami has the character I think he does, he's just waiting to tell all of this to Godo himself. And he's ready for whatever happens then.

God, I hope.

#regina watches #last man #last man blind investigator #last man spoilers #i had a lot of thoughts; more meta than reaction #lm s01e06

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twinklecupcake · 2 years ago

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Fixing ‘The Scarecrow (2000)’

These are like, scattered notes, kinda jumping around a bit rather than making a full synopsis, I'm still turning this over...

* First off, Count Grisham is actually intimidating. He still enjoys dance and performing arts, and perhaps he once had aspirations of performing on stage. But make him actually a threat, no "and crackers with little cheesy swirls on them!" lines.

* He has a few tailors and seamstresses in his employ - read: he "generously" gives orphans and unfortunates a job in his 'company' and then keeps screwing them over. He claims to offer the chance to let his employees buy their freedom, but he keeps moving the goalposts and adding interest. Picture like how Madame Carp keeps Erika working for her.

* One such girl is Polly, who even at her young age is already an extremely gifted seamstress. So much so that Grisham moves her goalposts even further and more often than everyone else, determined to keep her in his employ.

* Polly turns 19 and Grisham's attendant fetches her from the shop, saying that Grisham has heard her request for a meeting and is willing to hear her out. Polly had been wanting to talk about her savings and show she's saved more than enough to buy her freedom, and is excited that he's willing to hear her out. As she's dropped off, the attendant pauses to wish her a happy birthday, showing early on that he's a decent guy.

* But oh no, Grisham has moved the goalposts again. This time pointing out that while yes, she's saved enough to cover the interest... but what about the supplies she uses? Adding all the costs of needles, pins, thread, silks, plus cost of her room and board, plus that interest... it looks like she'll be working for him for another 20 years.

* Polly leaves, torn between rage and heartbreak, and goes to where she often goes to vent her woes... An abandoned farm that allegedly belonged to a witch, where a scarecrow still stands dutifully watching the empty fields. He's still in excellent condition due to Polly taking time to stitch up any wear and tear in his clothing.

* We learn she's been coming here for about two years, and has been talking at the scarecrow this whole time.

* Aaaaand when she leaves this is when we learn that yes, the scarecrow is actually alive, and has been crushing on her this whole time.

* Also her habit of repairing his clothes started when she patched up his torn pant cuff, remarking that everyone deserves to look respectable.

* Scarecrow feels awful for her and wonders if there is something he can do... Oh but wait, maybe there is! Surely the witch that used to live here has something in her house.....

#i'll have to finish this up later #the scarecrow

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adorerdraco · 4 years ago

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Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 4

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

Summary: PART 4 ! of Draco accidentally falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and now having to deal with the reality of his Death Eater status.

Warnings: lots of ANGST (but also tiniest bit of fluff), lots of tears, lots of emotional pain on everyone

Words: 7.5K

A/N: FINALLLYYYY i had no idea what to do with this but something finally came to me !!!! and also an ending ;( so there will only be maybe one or two parts after this one since it is a miniii series BUT FOR NOW I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS AND IGNORE ANY PLOT HOLES FROM THE ACTUAL HP UNIVERSE I TRIED MY V BEST AHHH <33333 do not own gif.

There was an unsettling sense of impending doom that washed over the Hogwarts castle in heavy rain and dark thunderous clouds. The familiar orange and bright sunlight and purple-pink sunsets were gone, the sun only making meek appearances through the thick rainy covers of the sky before disappearing into the nightfall. No one knew what was coming or what to expect. Schooling continued like normal and everyone had entrusted that whatever was the situation outside the bewitched stone walls of Hogwarts; there was no way it could get past the protection charms put in place by the all-powerful Headmaster and his fellow teachers.

The only two people in the school who couldn’t share that same comfort with their peers were also the only ones in the school who had an inkling of what was going to happen next. The second Draco realized he had successfully mended the vanishing cabinet he had a squirming sense of regret and guilt begin to eat away at him. You felt the same burn of shame in you when you mulled over the fact that it was you who had encouraged him to keep at it even when he continuously wanted to quit.

So now here you were, in the chilled room of requirement after finding out the cabinet worked only minutes ago, the two of you sitting in silence together on an old pile of junk while you held a shivering Draco with his face buried in your neck. There was a feeling of droplets of quiet tears falling onto your skin while you pet the top of his silver-stricken hair in reassurance and tried to hold your own tears back. The breakthrough that was supposed to be the biggest accomplishment of the young Death Eater ended up feeling like his biggest failure and it devastated him more than he could have ever fathomed.

When he had finally gathered himself together, he stood up and totteringly fixed the wrinkles on his black suit before offering you a trembling hand. You took it and allowed him to walk you out of the room and back into the empty corridors and towards the staircases. It was a silent trip down to the dungeons and you didn’t want to ask where he was taking you but you regretted not doing so when he stopped the two of you outside a certain greasy-haired Professor’s door. He brought his free hand up to the wood and let his knuckles hit against it faintly with one knock before you rushed to stop him as you yanked the two of you away from the door once you had realized how unwise this felt.

“What are you doing?!” you asked him in a hushed fearful tone.

“I have to tell Snape about the vanishing cabinet,” he responds dully.

“I don’t think he’d like me to be here when you tell him that-”

There was a sudden clicking sound, the door of the office swinging open as Snape emerged from the room with an angered expression when he saw the two of you standing there. When his dark eyes landed on you specifically, you shivered underneath his vexed gaze. It was clear, just how you had said, he did not want you there.

“Inside, now, Draco.” He grits the demand through his teeth.

“Y/N is coming in too,” the Slytherin says quickly, earning another scowl from his Professor. He stepped aside from the door with a visible rage as you followed Draco inside to the dingy room lined with jars filled with weird unnameable objects.

Draco stopped in the middle of the room, reaching for your hand again and tightly gripping it in reassurance. You stared into his worried gray’s with fear, silently begging him to not let you go as Snape walked past the both of you.

“Do you have any idea how imprudent you are, Draco?” Snape sneered, staring down the boy beside you who kept a straight face. “Do you understand how reckless this is? How much does she know?”

“Everything, Professor,” Draco answers quietly. There was a fiery glint in Snape’s eyes as he looked towards you now, his lips curling upwards in a snarl.

“Foolish girl with an equally foolish boy,” he scowls. “You have nothing to do with any of this. You have done nothing but write yourself a death sentence all for the sake of what... love?”

“With all due respect, Professor,” you start timidly, “I knew what the consequences would be if I stayed with Draco and I will gladly accept whatever fate is in store for me for my decision. I also promise you my silence with everything I know.”

Draco squeezed your hand and glanced towards you with a sadness you were easily able to see.

“How touching,” Snape says lowly. “So you’re prepared to die at the hands of the Dark Lord? Or perhaps at the hands of his precious aunt who might get to you first?”

“Yes, I am” you stood tall when you answered, hoping to appear courageous for not only a very doubtful Snape but more for Draco who you felt cringe every time your possible death was mentioned.

He said nothing, but his mind was swarming with thoughts and plans on how he could save you from every dangerous person and outcome that tormented his surroundings. There was one constant threat after another and although he’s contemplated on it several times, there was no solution he could come up with where the two of you stayed together and you would survive. He mentally kicks himself, wishing he pushed aside his own selfish needs and never promised you he wouldn’t leave you again and he wishes now more than ever that he could. It wasn’t because he didn’t love you - it was the opposite of that. He loved you almost too much and as dreadful situations were approaching, he wished he could leave you out of the death and destruction that would soon ensue on everyone, especially you, all because of him. All because he needed you by his side for him to even feel any sense of life in him that kept him going.

“Very well, then, I cannot stop you from these naive decisions,” Snape sighs deeply in defeat and faces the troubled blond, “and what of the vanishing cabinet?”

You felt Draco stiffen, a trembling exhale falling from his lips before responding with, “it’s done.”

“Excellent, expect their arrival soon,” he rounds his desk, stopping right above his chair, “you may leave.”

You hurriedly turned to go, tugging on Draco’s hand as you did so and the both of you drudged out of the office with a heavy sensation settling over the both of you. There was nothing either of you could do now. There was no more stalling with the cabinet, no more keeping quiet, no more hopeful possibilities that things could turn out differently.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was nearly physically painful to attend all your classes today. It was fake smiles and conversations that left you feeling pathetically phony -feeling like you were lying to everyone that they were going to be okay when they weren’t. You even made plans with housemates to have a little gathering in the common room later in the week to celebrate someone’s birthday and plans with friends to go study in the library with them.

It even hurt to see your Professors, always kind and helpful, not knowing that sometime in the near future, they’ll be either fighting for their life or the lives of students at Hogwarts.

Draco had it even worse. Not one peep from him throughout any of his classes. He was deathly quiet, walking around looking like a kicked puppy and avoided any conversation or interaction with anyone, not even eye contact. He just felt so guilty that he was going to be the reason why death would inevitably wreak havoc on so many souls. He knows eventually the dark wizard he’s resentfully following would have found a way inside the castle walls somehow - you had reminded him that countless times, but it still left him wondering what would have happened if he couldn’t fully mend the cabinet or refused to.

Halfway through the day, he saw you in Slughorn’s class. The two of you worked diligently together through the whole lesson and when the bell rang, he gave you a small kiss goodbye before walking over to his other class. Your worried eyes followed his retreating figure, leaving you a chilling feeling as he disappeared down the hall.

During his next class, he sat in the far end of a classroom, slumped in his chair with his chin on his palm as he thought of you. He wishes he could be stronger for you, braver and less cowardly. He wished he was unafraid of consequences and could simply grab you and his mother, and eventually even his father, and just apparate to somewhere far away and hidden where the Dark Lord and his followers couldn’t get to him or those he loved. But he knew that no matter how much he wished it or try to convince himself he could; he couldn’t do it and he knows his family wouldn’t let him either.

When classed had finally ended for the day and the corridors were packed with rushing bodies of people meeting up with their friends as they laughed and talked with a weightless glee, Draco found himself pushing past everyone like a mindless zombie as his feet mindlessly carried him throughout the school with no specific destination. There was no moment of peace in his head, just a raging battlefield of endless awful possibilities.

You had been scurrying through the halls, hoping to find the mop of platinum blond amongst the busy crowd of people. The scene felt like a maze, twisting and turning through people and corners until you felt like you were on the edge of madness.

There was a small tap on your shoulder before a large hand had snaked down your arm and into your hand with its familiar cold grasp. You sighed in relief, your head turning softly to face your noticeably stressed boyfriend who had put on a very feeble smile for you.

“Can we go somewhere else,” he asked faintly, leaning down towards your ear as he spoke, “I can’t be here anymore.”

You nodded eagerly, moving the two of you towards the nearest exit of the castle, finally releasing a breath of fresh air when you felt your shoes sink into the soft earth below you. There was a humid and muddy smell in the air, the soil, and plants still wet from the on and off rain that had been occurring for the past few days.

Far from the school and on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, there stood a tall and sturdy tree. It was the new tree you had picked for the two of after the first fall out between you and Draco. Its trunk was thick and wide, allowing both of you to hide from anyone who passed by or saw it in the distance. The tresses of leaves nearly showered onto the ground from its long branches that twisted and turned in ways that appeared like it was trying to hug itself. It almost looked like a huge, untrimmed dome, encircling you inside its core while it protected you from unwanted attention. It was perfect.

When you finally reached it, you pushed back some of the leaves so you could walk into the dimly lit and vast space it naturally created and plopped yourself against the trunk with a deep exhale. Draco sat down with you, adjusting himself so that he could lay his head on your lap, humming comfortably when your fingers began their usual work through the soft strands of his hair.

You sat there in silence as the both of you thought, and thought, and thought. It was hard to believe that only this morning you were standing in the room of requirement with him, shocked and distressed that he had finally fixed the vanishing cabinet. Now Snape and the rest of the Death Eaters were aware of the new opening into Hogwarts, preparing to set ablaze the school with pain and some sort of destruction.

You looked down at the boy in your lap, a permanent wrinkle in between his eyebrows as he lied staring straight ahead, a lost look in his gray eyes that you hadn’t seen in so long.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly. One of your hands had trailed from his hair and rested gently on his forehead, your pinky gently trying to smooth out the crease between his eyes.

“I should have never fixed the cabinet,” he sighs and sits up to face you. You noticed the glassy look and reddened lash lines, the storming tears ready to come out at any moment.

"Draco, anything that happens next is not your fault,” you tried to reassure but it only made him feel worse.

“No, it’s not only that,” he lets out a shaky breath, letting the first tear fall that he couldn’t hold back. “I have to dedicate myself to my second task now.”

You froze as you remembered the biggest responsibility he had, demanded to him by the Dark Lord himself - the obligation of killing Dumbledore. A mere 16-year-old boy, who was in the middle of a collapsed world and broken judgments, was burdened with the worst trial of them all.

Draco shuddered at the thought, moving to sit beside you against the tree as he sat with his knees pulled to his chest and the waterfall of tears now falling freely down his face.

“I can’t kill him, I don’t want to kill him,” he lamented, “I can’t do it. He’ll kill me first before I can even try.”

You placed a hand on his arm, rubbing soothing circles into it as you let him cry and thought of what you could say. The vanishing cabinet was one thing, but this, this was a life. This was someone who is known to be the most powerful wizard of all time, the only one alive right now who the enemy truly feared. This was someone who everyone needed alive at this time. If Draco went through with this, he would never be able to recover. You know he doesn’t want to do it, at all, and having everyone else in his life nag at him in encouragement is the opposite of what he needs. You truly couldn’t give him any advice on what he can do or why he should.

“I don’t think he would,” you started quietly, trying to find the words to piece together what you wanted to say, “kill you, I mean. I think you’re so used to You-Know-Who, that, you forget Dumbledore isn't evil and is merciful. And maybe, if you stall long enough, someone else can do it? Maybe Bellatrix.”

Draco let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head at the suggestion, “my dear aunt Bellatrix more than anyone, wants me to do it.”

“I wish there was something I could do to help,” you frowned, letting the back of your head fall against the tree as you stared up at the swinging greenery above you.

“You can help by keeping yourself alive,” he sniffles, his cold hand enveloping itself in yours as he spoke. “If there was one good thing that came out of all of this, it’s you. I think you not being here on this Earth, would feel far, far worse than taking Dumbledore’s life.”

He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a warm kiss onto the skin before he held it against his chest.

“I wish I could put you in a bubble and send you up above the clouds so you could watch the sky all day and be happy, and most of all safe from everything evil,” he muses, a slight smile on your lips as you listened to his wish. His fingers began twirling around the band on your wrist, the same band he had gifted you the night before when everything seemed to be okay, in a sense.

“Evil will always be here, Dark Wizards present or not,” you remind him gingerly, “just as there will always be good. It’s a balance, one can’t be here without the other.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he sighs. “But I still wish it was possible to send you away in a bubble.”

“If that was possible, you know you would come with me, right?” You turn your head, smiling at him when he met your eyes. You brought up your held hand, wiping away the stray tears that had lingered on his paled cheeks as he kept a firm grasp on your wrist.

“I would love to go with you,” he said tenderly, heart-swelling at how easy you made him feel calm and present. It was wonderous, he felt, how someone had managed to make him feel this way. He never would have thought he’d have someone who genuinely loved him and he loved back, in his love life. Especially not at this time, in this year, where he was facing his worst tribulations and turmoils.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you now staring up into the darkening grayed sky that peeked through the mess of leaves above.

“It’s getting dark, we should probably go soon,” you mumble tiredly, noticing how the moon was already starting to make an appearance behind the heavy gray clouds. "And it looks like it's about to rain."

As soon as the words left your mouth, there was a loud cracking of thunder, the tree’s branches surrounding you suddenly shaking at the sound. You shot up to your feet, Draco following closely as the two of you heard a whining sound coming directly from the trunk of the tree. Its leaves began to move wildly in the wind that approached, more booming of thundering filling the air as a storm above began to brew. The branches began to swing carefully and more inwards as if it was alive and closing itself up from any danger that was coming from around or above it. The leaves were falling over one another, covering up any spaces in the tree that the constricting branches couldn’t cover.

“Draco,” you say timidly, reaching for his hand in fear, “is it just me, or is the tree moving?”

The space underneath the tree had shrunken significantly, it was now a small circle going around the trunk that was big enough to walk around but not enough to run through like you once could. Whatever light the outside was able to offer was now gone, the cracking and compressing branches and leaf clumps blocked out everything from the outside, including the rain that you could very loudly hear pattering against the fronds above you.

“I think its closed us in,” Draco mutters, moving you behind his back as he pulled his wand from his pocket and whispered a quick, ‘lumos,’ so that the two of you could see. He held you behind him protectively as he stepped towards the walls of the tree, pushing against the leaves and branches that were now tightly contracted together that allowed no room for escape. “We’re stuck in here - unless you want to blast a hole through it.”

“No!” you exclaim immediately. You moved away from him and walked towards the trunk of the tree, placing a gentle hand on the dry wood that still seemed to be faintly buzzing from its movement. “We’re not going to hurt it.”

“Y/N, we’re stuck in here, no one knows where we are-” he tries to reason more but you shush him quickly.

“And that’s such a bad thing?” you scoff, moving to press your ear against the wood as you tried to examine it more. You heard the same whining from earlier but much weaker now, its bellows fading now as it felt protected from the storm.

“What are you doing?”

There was confusion written all over the blond’s face as he watched you inspect the tree, curious and concerned with your attentiveness.

“Dray, come here,” you rushed out, motioning towards you so he would hurry over. He let you grab his free hand when he reached you since his wand hand was still casting the only light around you. You placed it against the trunk of the tree with yours, a sudden vibration shooting up his arm at the contact with the wood. “The tree is a sentient. It’s alive and very aware.”

“What, so like the Whomping Willow?”

“Exactly like that, but not aggressive at all,” you nod, beaming up at him. “I think it knows we’re here too.”

For a moment, there was finally a fleeting feeling of glee as both of your worries from the outside left you, allowing reverence and excitement to fill you and spread to Draco.

“You speak tree now?” He snickers, smirking at you when you rolled your eyes.

You leaned your head against the tree, closing your eyes as you quietly thanked it for its protection from the thunder and the rain and its beauty. Draco’s gaze stayed on you, watching you with wonder and fullness in his heart. He began to question himself how someone like you was real, who was so caring with everything you touched, from nature to people. You radiated bravery, loyalty, strong intelligence, and ambition wherever you went and in every situation, you were in.

How did I get so lucky, he kept thinking.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a bright glittering blue light, and then a purple one, then a pink, and a white. He fully looked up and inhaled faintly when he saw what they all were.

Small translucent and thin stringy flowers of all colors that he could think of began to illuminate themselves from the many branches of the tree before floating off, dancing and twirling in the air as they descended towards the two of you. He noticed they looked nearly identical to spider lily’s - all thanks to Professor Sprout when he was forced to learn several different flowers in her class.

He nudged you gently, pointing up to the air when you opened your eyes and you stepped away from the trunk to look around in awe. There must have been at least a hundred of them spinning and flying, their petals bouncing up and down as they carried themselves around the open area.

You reached up your palm, catching one in your hand as it landed daintily and glowed a bright rose color, its petals still lifting up and down like if it was keeping itself afloat. You turned to bring it carefully towards Draco, almost jumping up and down in excitement that it was on you. He turned off the light of his wand with an easy, ‘nox,’ putting it away now that the area was now fully lit up in beautifully twinkling lights. He smiled down at you, placing both his hands under your one as he helped you hold it up since you were nearly exploding from happiness.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” you whispered in wonder. “I didn’t even know trees could do this! Our tree!”

“I think this is only because of you, darling,” he whispers back. “You have a way of bringing dull things to life.”

Your gaze flickered up, smiling warmly at him before pushing up gently on the flower, encouraging it to fly away so you could move. You got closer to the Slytherin, his arms encircling around your waist once you were flush against him. One of the green flowers had landed on the top of his hair, settling itself carefully on him.

“I’ve got one on me, haven’t I?” He chuckles and you nod, a bright smile on your face as you looked between him and the flower.

“It likes you,” you beam. “But, not as much as I do.”

He laughs a real laugh of delight and amusement, squeezing you delicately tighter against him.

“Obviously.”

You stood on your tip-toes to reach his tall figure, craning your face up and pressing your lips against his in a loving match. You parted your lips and allowed his warmth to wash all over you in comfort, all thoughts being numbed at the feeling. As your lips continued to move against his, you began to feel a tickling all over your hair and whatever skin was exposed to the air. You pulled away from him curiously, gasping softly when you saw that all the flowers had flown down towards the two of you landing and sitting on you both as if they were attracted like magnets.

Draco moved one of his clasped hands from your waist up to your cheek, grinning to himself as you leaned your head into his touch.

“I’m glad this tree has us trapped in here,” he mutters. “I wouldn't want to be anywhere else with the one I love.”

“I love you more, Draco.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The two of you awoke to the sound of cracking wood and swooshing leaves, a cold breeze following quickly as it encompassed you. You gradually opened your eyes, seeing that the tree was expanding and moving back to its original state and appearing back to normal. Carefully sitting up, you realized the flowers were gone, there was no sight of them anywhere. If it wasn’t for Draco being there with you, you would’ve thought you imagined the whole thing.

Speaking of the said boy, he groaned beneath you, balled fists going up to his closed eyes as he began to rub his sleep away. The early morning light had streamed through weakly through the clouds and through the leaves onto you.

“I wonder if anyone looked for us,” you yawned carelessly, standing up and flattening down the wrinkles on your clothes. You outstretched your hands and back, deeply exhaling at the feeling of relief from the ground below you.

“Probably,” Draco answered sleepily, standing himself up and wiping himself off of all dirt and grime. “We should go back now before it locks s in again.”

You skipped over to the trunk of the tree, placing your hand on it once again and whispering to it a tender, “thank you.”

You could’ve sworn it whined something back, but you brushed it off at your drowsiness and continued towards the castle with Draco.

The two of you walked quietly hand in hand to your common room, stopping outside of it with a sigh as you read a clock on a far-away wall.

7:42 AM

“How long have we been out?” You question fearfully.

“No idea,” he yawns. “Must have been a very long time though.”

Draco freezes in his spot, feeling his body crawl with what felt like tiny spiders when he saw who was standing at the end of one of the nearby corridors, a scowl on his face when they made eye contact.

“Go inside and get yourself cleaned up and ready for the day, love,” he rushed out, placing a quick kiss on your forehead and parted lips as he nudged you towards the entrance. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You tiredly nodded, giving the required password to the common room before sneakily stepping inside and tip-toeing towards your room.

When the doors finally closed and you were gone, Draco turned down the corridor and started towards a furious Snape down the way. The raven-haired man stayed glued where he stood, patiently waiting for the young Death Eater to approach him so he could swiftly unleash hell on him.

“I have been searching for you all night,” Snape snapped lowly. “Where did the two of you run off to?”

“We got stuck somewhere, but I’m here now,” Draco answers, staring into the accusatory eyes in front of him.

“You better hope you kissed her your final goodbye,” he snarls. “They’re coming tonight, and you must carry out your last duty - tonight.”

“Tonight?” Draco echoes emptily, feeling like whatever happiness he had left in his body from last night was slowly trickling down his body and out into the floor like a sad, melted popsicle.

“Yes, and after tonight you will no longer be a student here,” Snape reminds with a hushed tone. “Miss Y/L/N cannot follow you. I hope you understand that. it would be incredibly dangerous for you and her.”

“No,” Draco begins to shake his head in refusal, his heart dropping to his stomach as the realities began to set in. “I don’t want to leave her, I don’t know how.”

“I think it’s time you start figuring out how,” his Professor suggests inconsiderately. “Room of requirement at nightfall, you’re opening up the cabinet for them so they’re able to transport. Come alone and prepared to leave the school.”

Before Draco could try to argue, Snape brushed past him and disappeared down the corridor and past a corner, leaving behind a pain-stricken boy who was stupidly in love with someone he couldn’t find in him to let go.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Something was off and unsettling, you noticed. You weren’t sure where it came from, but you felt it eat away at you even though nothing had happened to you. You came home feeling wonderful from an impromptu dreamy night with Draco, completely love-struck and ditzy and halfway through your shower was when it was all washed away and replaced with dread.

You wondered if this is somehow how Draco was feeling before deciding against your gut.

I’m not a mind reader, you thought repeatedly.

It was odd how you saw him nowhere around the school, even more, odd when you hadn’t seen him in your shared Potions class that left you partnering up with your friend who didn’t mind the on and off switching. She asked you eagerly about your disappearance, expecting juicy details but was immediately bored when you gave her a watered-down story of what had happened.

“Oh, we were just watching the stars and accidentally fell asleep outside,” you lied, trying to force excitement in your voice to make the story more believable.

“That’s it?” she deadpanned. “You guys are so boring. Also, what if something attacked you guys? The Forbidden Forest is right there.”

You rolled your eyes, secretly wishing the two of you really were a simple boring couple and not facing the most life-threatening and scariest adversities.

“I’m sure one of us would’ve woken up if we heard something,” you shrug and she sighs, shaking her head.

There was still no sign of him after this class. And there was still no sign of him after the rest of the schooling day had ended.

You sat with your friends in the bumbling busy courtyard, listening to them quietly as they chatted happily. You were worried out of your mind, the pit in your stomach growing wider when you saw Draco’s familiar group of Slytherins gathered together in the distance, not a single platinum head in sight.

As the day continued into the evening and people were making their trip over to the Great Hall, you made up a quick excuse to your friends and broke off from them to scourge the school in its emptiness. It was quickly getting dark, you finally decided to follow your instincts and let yourself bound down the stoned staircase towards the even darker lit dungeons. It was empty and cold, a dooming atmosphere for no apparent reason.

As you were about to turn around, you heard the door to the Slytherin common room open and relief flooded you when you saw Draco emerge from the exit with a new black suit on, perfectly styled and gelled hair, and a somber expression on his face. He looked paler than usual, almost gray, the way he looked when you had found him that day in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom with a curse ravaging his body.

“Draco!” You called out to him excitedly, running towards him and wrapping your arms around him tightly when you reached him. He felt rigid underneath your touch, a distant look in his eyes as he looked down at you quickly. “Where have you been all day?”

“I’ve had to take care of some stuff,” he murmurs in response.

“Are you okay?” You ask carefully as you observed him. He was cold, emotionally, and physically. He resembled his house’s ghost, the Bloody Baron, cold and angry with hidden despair - just without all the blood.

“I’m fine.”

You stepped away from him at his answer, peering up at him in confusion at his sudden aloofness.

“I need to tell you something,” he ends up breathing out after a moment of awkward tension. His hand wraps around your forearm instead of his usual spot in your hand, nearly dragging you towards an empty classroom that was a few feet away from where you both stood.

He closed the door warily behind him once the two of you were inside, the dingy lamps in the room automatically lighting up when they sensed a presence so you wouldn’t be left in the dark.

“So, what do you need to tell me?” You begin to wring your hands in distress, not feeling hopeful under his miserable gaze.

“We need to end this, here, right now,” he spits out quickly, a troubled expression taking over his features as soon as the words left his lips.

There was a thick silence that fell over the room, a heavy tension that grew with every passing second was bursting at the seams of the walls. You couldn’t think straight, your heart feeling like it had fallen into your back and your stomach bubbling dangerously with bile you desperately wanted to release.

“What do you mean,” you ask stupidly. The tiniest piece of you was desperately hoping that he had meant something completely different than your relationship.

“You and me,” he pointed between the two of you brokenly. “I have to kill Dumbledore tonight, and then I have to leave.”

“I’ll go with you,” you promptly offer, nodding in agreement with yourself.

“You can’t,” he asserts sadly, walking up to you and placing both hands on either side of your biceps, gripping you tightly in place as if you were toppling over. “Y/N, this is the one time you can’t help me. If you come with me tonight, someone will hurt you.”

You stared up at him in dread, relentless tears streaming down your face as he stared back at you with the same look. He was breaking apart, his insides shriveling up in agony while he spoke and continued to hurt you.

“But when will I see you again?” you cry out hoarsely, letting your head fall against his chest as he moves to hug you tightly.

“I don’t know,” he whispers out.

“Draco, please let me come with you,” you begin to plead into the jacket of his suit. “I’ll hide, transfigure me into a goblet, anything! Just please don’t leave again. You promised!”

“I can’t,” he shakes his head. You felt his hot tears land onto the top of your hair, adding more fuel to your anguish. “You have to stay here, in this room, until I’m gone.”

“Are you that dense?” you cry wildly, pushing yourself away from him as you gave him a look of pure anger. “You expect to let me wait here like a sitting duck while I could be out there helping you somehow.”

Draco watched you with remorse, his hand reaching into his suit pocket before drawing his wand out on you with a vigorous trembling hand. You gasped, quick to reach for your own with the same shakiness before it was thrown out of your grasp the second you pointed it at him.

“Expelliarmus,” he said quickly, voice matching his hand. He looked at you painfully again before sputtering out, “locomotor mortis.”

Your legs locked together from beneath you, sending you tumbling backward into an empty desk beside you. You caught yourself on the edges of the desk, staring agape at a shuddering Draco a few feet away.

“I’m sorry,” he cried hard, “I’m so sorry, but I have to keep you safe.”

“Draco, I swear,” you wailed out in despair, “if you leave me here, I will never forgive you.”

Draco halted, contemplating his next move for only a minute. His heart thudding fast against his chest, yearning to give into you as he weighed out his options. He swallowed thickly and turned on his heel towards the door. When his hand landed on the brass handle, he turned back one more time to look at you and felt his world completely and irreversibly shatter.

You were in hysterics, legs stuck together and your hands barely being able to hold yourself up on the desk. You had a despondency about you now, weeping strongly in heartbreak that was caused by him.

He speedily opened the door and threw himself out, shutting it tightly once again and placing his wand against the handle.

“Colloportus,” the lock chimed with a magnifying and powerful click.

He let his head quietly fall against the door, tormenting himself further when he heard your continued cries and now yelling out a pained, “you promised!”

Nothing was holding him together now as he ripped himself away from the door and began his walk to the room of requirement. There was no more hope, no more tranquility, no more comfort. He couldn’t run back to you at the end of the night and let you heal him with soft reassurances and tender kisses. He couldn’t feel your hug anymore or the way you’d lull him to sleep after a rough day with your hands in his hair. It was all gone, all of it. Including you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You don’t know how long you cried or when you had fallen to the floor and accidentally fallen asleep in your hopelessness.

When you finally woke up, the room was especially dark now, the lights having been dimmed to nothing as the room had thought you were gone. All you could feel was grief and dejection, everything you knew and loved had been torn away from you; because it was.

When you subsequently felt some of your energy return, you rolled yourself around the floor, extending your arm to grab onto something sturdy so you could hoist yourself up and begin looking for your wand. Luckily, the lights lit up again when they sensed your figure begin to hop around the room, allowing you to search much more easily.

You hopped down each row of scattered desks, searching high and low for where your wand might have been thrown when you were disarmed. You mentally cursed Draco again for the thousandth time that night, the throbbing in your body growing stronger while you thought of how he had left.

You found yourself regretting the bluff you threw at him, feeling stupid now that he was gone with the idea that you might hate him. You regretted letting your rage and sadness get to you, yelling at him things you didn’t mean all because you were angry he was trying to do to protect you.

Stuck in your head and mindlessly hopping towards the front of the room where Draco had hit you with both spells, you didn’t see your wand under your shoe until it had rolled out from underneath you, sending you falling into a set of desks that were lined up behind you.

The impact of the fall barely phased you, weakly shifting yourself upright and bending over and outstretching a hand towards your wand. When you finally felt it between your fingers, you dragged it towards you and into your grasp before hurriedly pointing it towards your legs and muttering the counter-curse to unbind yourself. Once you felt the feeling back in your legs, you jumped up and ran towards the door only to slam against it, unknowing to you that Draco had also spelled the door before he left.

“Arse,” you mutter, touching your wand against the lock and speaking out a clear, “alohomora.”

When you stepped out into the gloomy freezing corridor of the dungeons, you knew something was wrong. It was clear in the air that something awful had just happened, every feeling of sadness seeping deep into the stone of the castle.

You flew up the stairs, running as fast as you could towards the Quad where everyone was gathered like zombies. Your legs continued carrying you out, looking up at the sky to see a huge Dark Mark painted in the grayed clouds above. Your gut was screaming at you the reason why, but you didn’t want to believe it until you had seen the evidence of your thoughts lying on the ground not far from you.

It was Dumbledore, motionless, and gone.

Harry was sitting above him, Ginny hugging him tightly as he cried quietly. You felt your tears prick your eyes, feeling guilty that you had known all along what was going to happen, guilty that you couldn’t do anything to stop it, guilty that there was no one to challenge against the evil that doomed the wizarding world, guilty that you couldn’t help Draco against it.

You kept telling yourself he couldn’t have done it, he couldn’t have, but it was clear as day - the scene in front of you. You swallowed the lump in your throat, allowing yourself to cry with your school in grief, crying even more while the second loss you experienced tonight had begun to work itself back into your tears.

And when everyone had cleared out, and it was just Harry and a few others, including some Professors, you begrudgingly made yourself walk up to the group. It was hard, seeing Harry and his friends stare at you with a look you couldn’t quite place. A look between pity and something unidentifiable.

“I’m sorry,” you let out hoarsely to Harry as you finally neared them. “I know this must be hard for you.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he answered awkwardly. “I saw it happen, you know.”

“Oh,” you frown, rubbing your sweaty palms against your jeans as you waited for him to curse you out, to yell at you for Draco’s wrongdoings and murderous feat. But he didn’t. He only stared at you sadly.

“If you wanted to know,” he began, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he spoke, “Malfoy didn’t do it, he couldn’t.”

There was a solace that ran deep within you at the revelation. A shaky exhale quietly falling from your lips while you tried to hide your relief. You silently thanked the stars for sparing Draco, knowing now that there was still hope he could be saved.

“So then who did it?” You ask timidly.

“Snape,” he shook his head glumly, “it was Snape.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

There was a loud snapping sound ringing throughout the Malfoy Manor as Draco apparated inside the living room with his mother, clutching tightly onto her as he stumbled over his feet, feeling sick to his stomach and distraught at everything he had to live through that night.

He fell to his knees, backing himself up against a wall as he began clutching at his chest, gasping desperately for air as his panic attack had started to tear away at him. He was breathing erratically, tears falling from his eyes in rivers as he tried to remove the suit jacket that felt too tight against him.

Narcissa Malfoy looked down at her son, fear and sorrow suddenly undertaking her as she bent down to sit in front of him. She was momentarily glad she felt the need to meet the others near the outskirts of the school’s failing barrier, instantly grabbing Draco from the group when everyone was planning on staying longer for further destruction. One broken look on his face was all she needed to whirl the two of them out of there and back into their large empty house.

“Breathe, Draco,” she said softly, placing a warm hand on his wet cheek as he continued to sob. “Breathe.”

“I left her,” he choked out through his tears, “mother, I left her!”

“Who?” Narcissa asked, puzzled. “Who did you leave?”

But he didn’t answer her. He only cried harder and it didn’t stop even though his mother was holding him reassuringly in her embrace. She swiftly realized that there was more than he was letting on, and she knew that these weren’t only tears from what had happened with his failed task, she knew his tears mostly came from an ache deep within his heart, from an anguishing love.

“I left her there!” He cried loudly in her arms, clutching onto her tightly as he continued to struggle for his breath and sanity. She felt her own heart begin to break, wishing so deeply she could remove all hurt that stabbed at him.

“Draco, my love,” she tried again gently, “who did you leave?”

“Y/N,” he croaked out, “I left Y/N.”

PART 5

TAGLIST:

@viirgobbyy @bluesunflowersz @dreamyvcid @goddessofgames @natt-nih @cheesecakes-randomshitz @supersouthy @rebellionsarebuiltonhopee @peter-parka @thefandomplace @angelofslytherin @blueleonor @karentheugly

(I’m sorry if I forgot anyone, I <3 all of you and everyone who read this)

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boundlesshart · 2 years ago

Note

"Claude?"

It was one of the dates he had marked on his calendar- Claude's birthday. Dimitri always made sure to remember others' birthdays, particularly if they're a friend or someone who can be considered important either in the authority sense or for the future of Faerghus in any way. Claude's case...

...he wasn't sure what it was, and didn't want to push boundaries either. As much as he wished to be able to call Claude a friend one day, the path towards that felt difficult and unsure- and so the prince saved the date in the diplomatic sense, for now. Yes, he's the heir to the Alliance's leading position. A good relationship with him could spell great opportunities for Faerghus.

That...and Dimitri did injure Claude once, a long time ago. No, he never forgot.

"I noted that it is your birthday today, so I did my best to find something I could gift you with. Sorry, I shall warn you here and now that I am quite awful with gifts." It was one of the most ridiculously impossible tasks he had done. Dimitri had no idea what Claude liked- with the exception of what, bows and arrows? Deers? It was rather embarrassing to admit that his knowledge was so shallow like that. I hope he doesn't get upset by that.

Feeling a bit awkward, the prince handed out the first gift he had to offer- a book. Rather heavy with a thick leather cover engraved in silver and gold. Claude was the schemer type, wasn't he? He remembers the fellow house leader's shenanigans regarding traps and stealth. "This- is a tactics book. But not a typical one, rather it involves tactics regarding the handling of crests and their effects, specifically." It was through this book that Dimitri learned more about his own crest and what to do with it, so he imagined that maybe Claude could like it too. "It is a rather popular book in Faerghus for the soldiers and knights! I...imagined that you would enjoy something like this."

The second gift was actually his very first option- but he mulled over it so many times that he decided to not make it the main thing. He had already done this once and it ended terribly, but perhaps...only maybe, this time it wouldn't go as badly.

Staring at his own feet, he handed the archer a dagger, its blade sheathed in blue- and gold, an oddity for Faerghus. "As for this dagger, uh...I shall spare you the history lesson, but in Faerghus the blade is believed to guide you towards the future you find right. It cuts open the path for you to walk on and steels your resolve. Uhm, it is an odd gift, is it not? Sorry...but well, I am giving it to you because I wish you great power, for whatever future you are set to walk towards."

A pause. And he grows embarrassed. "-or you can just use it for self defense as well, the blade is excellent!" Another pause....oh no, what if this could be perceived as a threatening move? For the prince of Faerghus to be giving a dagger to the Alliance heir? Oh Dimitri, you fool! You tone deaf fool! "And this is not a threat, I swear! It is just- ah, blades have meanings in Faerghus and...ah, sorry if this has unsettled you."

"Anyway- Happy Birthday, Claude. I wish you a bright life ahead." With that, he hurried to leave...forgetting that his own room was only one door away from Claude's.

Claude tilts his head at Dimitri, confused by how... nervous he is when there's no reason to be. Is it because of what happened last year? Sure, he was upset by what happened, but that's in the past. Surely Dimitri has left all that behind him...

"Well, the thought's what counts for a gift," Claude tries to reassure him, but honestly he braces himself for the worst. A brush that will break all his curls. A torn up dandelion. He breathes a sigh of relief when it's just a book, and an interesting book on that. Tactics on handling Crests and their effects? Claude hums in interest as he flips through the table of contents, of course eager to find where the Crest of Riegan sits. He never grew up knowing how to use or handle his crest effectively the way some of his peers did, and his grandfather's experiences with a major crest don't always match with the realities of Claude's minor one. "You had me worried there! Thanks, Dimitri. I'll make good use of this during the next mock battle," he adds with a wink.

He thought it would end there, but not quite. Dimitri surprises him with a second gift: a simple dagger, by all appearances, though with how antsy he's acting about it Claude's not sure if there's more to this than meets the eye. Carefully he unsheathes the weapon, scrutinizing the blade and handle and finding nothing out of place. A perfectly fine gift. There's no need for Dimitri to get so worked up over it.

"Were you always this much of a worrier? I've been gifted daggers before, your intentions are loud and clear." The dagger Claude is thinking about is all the way back in Almyra, enclosed in an ornate sheath and nestled at the bottom of a drawer. "But it's the first one I've ever gotten from someone from Faerghus, with the well-wishes attached and all. I appreciate it. I hope that I can live up to those lofty expectations—Hey!"

Rushing to leave him behind? Rude! "At least let me thank you!"

#blaydiud #asks #dimitri pls

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kaemulti · 4 years ago

Text

DC SUPERHERO GIRLS HEADCANNONS

i’m gonna start writing headcannons whenever i get sad/anxious for a number of different fandoms. it takes my mind off things, even if only for a little bit. this time it’s gonna be about dcshg 2019. i’m honestly obsessed with thinking about the mundane teenager things we don’t see in the show that all the superhero/villian kids go through so i wanted to write some stuff about that.

•karen is actually more popular than she realizes, people think she’s sweet even though they rarely see her/don’t have classes with her

•leslie and dorris are a thing to everyone BUT themselves; they hilariously don’t even realize they’ve basically been dating for years: carpooling together, hanging out before and after school, bullying kids like a tag team, skipping classes together, movie nights, shorting out the exercise machines at the mall to make that misogynistic jerk at the fitness store scared, buying their favorite snacks for each other without thinking much of it, etc.

•barbi not only hates diana with a burning passion but ALSO tatsu because both girls excel in both their academic and physical education classes, unintentionally surpassing barbie by a long shot whenever the opportunity presents itself

•jessica and hal hang out at sweet justice after their week day training classes and even invite barry when he has the day off

•kara is completely oblivious to the fact there are a bunch of girls crushing on her at school, she keeps wondering why they whisper about her and never make direct eye contact with her as she walks through the hallways. she only finds out what is actually going on when she opens her locker on valentine’s day and gets COVERED in cards. she doesn’t tell most of her friends about it (she knows they’ll just be annoying) but she does vaguely ask jess about how to write people back, turning them down nicely and whatnot, she’s not a monster for gods sake, she’s just not ready for a relationship.

•babs and diana like to study together the most even though barbra never really pays attention, she mostly talks about different batman articles and comics she read and new gadgets she’s created but diana doesn’t mind TOO much because she has an growing interest in modern day ‘world of man’ technology

•diana can NOT sing to save her life. the girls thought that having a karaoke night would be fun sure, but nothing would’ve prepared them for the laughing fits they had when diana started screeching into the mic. They also find out that Babs is always off pitch and Jessica refuses to sing in front of people. alternatively, however, zee, kara and karen (in that order) are the best singers in the group.

•zee keeps inviting kara to these crazy expensive-super long wait list restaurants even though she knows kara probably won’t eat any of the food. she doesn’t really know why she keeps doing it, especially after the whole giant tentacle incident, but she does know she enjoys kara’s funny comments and cute laugh enough to continue.

•when selina first saw diana she might of had a tiny sexuality crisis, no she won’t elaborate.

•tatsu helps garth work on his confidence and he helps her with her HUGE slight fear of open water. even though they don’t know the other is super, they still help each other as much as they can. tatsu will train garth to do some basic defense techniques against bullies and they’ll go swimming every other week, garth always making sure to keep as much water as he can away from tatsu’s eyes and nose.

•kara and barry like to race each other whenever they get a chance to go to the pier. kara always cheats so she never loses but barry doesn’t mind because he’s her friend and it makes them laugh.

•steve is actually really good at embroidery, his mom taught him when he was younger. he once made a wonder woman shirt for diana and when he gave it to her, she fainted.....twice.

•pam is allergic to three different types of flowers but she still nurtures them in her garden at home whenever she can. if her allergies get really bad though, she’ll ask jess to help her water them, ONLY because she needs to keep her precious flowers alive, NOT because she is actually jess’ friend...she thinks.

•the first time carol met barbie they both got into detention for loudly insulting each other’s fashion sense in the middle of math class. (they still haven’t apologized to each other so they keep acting like it didn’t happen because they both think they’re right)

•the first time harleen called pam “green bean”, pam blushed and giggled...like FULL blown diana talking to steve giggle. and then she pushed harleen off a bridge with a vine on accident. harleen thought it was the funniest thing ever and pam could only awkwardly apologize for almost killing her teammate

•oliver and zee tried to co-write a christmas play but they were so busy fighting each other on who had a better ending they didn’t actually order any props or costumes for it. leaving the main actress to perform in a pirate outfit.

•kara still hangs out with bizarro super girl every now and again and they take turns ranting about their idiot cousins, it’s all light hearted because kara still has some emotional stuff to work through.

•diana unintentionally starts a “who will come out next” contest when she asks the girls about same sex attraction. she had seen leslie and dorris making out in one of the locker rooms (yes they FINALLY got together together) and asked her friends what it meant. after a lot of confusion as kara stumbled over her explanation of the lgbtq+ community, she ends up coming out as a lesbian first, followed by babs, who is bisexual, karen, who is questioning but absolutely had a crush on kara before their food fight detention day, and zee who is trans. they end up going to metropolis pride two months after that.

•diana is still convinced there is an oracle at the pier so every other sunday the girls go so she can spend all of her money on “knowing the future”

•babs never really gets angry on the daily and the rest of the girls learn why when some jerk at sweet justice insults jess’ looks because she wouldn’t go out with him. barbra turned bright red as she let him have it, words coming out of her mouth faster than barry can make their ice cream (they didn’t think she had it in her). and if he he ended up glued to his bed the next day, well, jess will let batgirl get away with that one JUST this once. barbra will NEVER not stick up for her friends.

•kara and babs often have multiple sleepovers a week, harleen even joins them sometimes when kara doesn’t mind her LOUD presence.

•the girls never get mad at one another when someone breaks down or blows up after holding certain feelings in for too long. whether it’s kara ghosting them for days leading up to her mom’s birthday, diana overworking herself to the point of exhaustion when she gets homesick, karen refusing to go out to anywhere except for school and tough missions for weeks at a time because she thinks she doesn’t matter, zee reading too many spells at once and giving herself an awful migraine after messing up an easy one, jessica isolating herself at lunch so she can sit in the library alone and cry to herself quietly after a hard day of training, or babs not being her normal happy self after having a heated argument with harleen, there will ALWAYS be a shoulder to cry on when someone needs it. If that comes in the form a knock on kara’s door as her friends invite themselves in with her favorite foods and a mega ‘feel better soon’ music playlist in tow, an impromptu destress retreat that they force diana to go on where she is only allowed to use a weapon if there is a direct threat, making a giant list of all the things they love about karen and reading it to her from outside her window, someone closing zee’s spell book and holding her tightly as her eyes turn back to normal from flaring pink with anger, all the girls quietly sitting with jessica one by one in the library and gently holding her hand as she lets out what she can, or buying limited edition comics and leaving them as presents for babs in her section of the hideout, there is ALWAYS someone there to make it hurt a little less.

the end :))

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aj-illustrated · 4 years ago

Text

*pulls up a 97-slide PowerPoint* I’m so glad you asked

Ben is an OC co-owned by me and @finnoky! The short of it is that he’s an orphan who Varian helps save from a life of crime, and who later gets adopted by Quirin!

More about him under the cut:

Age: About 12

Birthday: He has no idea, but thinks it might have been sometime in the autumn.

Likes: Quirin, Varian, farmwork, tending to the sheep, his dog (Achilles), the Challenge of the Brave (spectating and later competing), adventure stories, head pats, strawberries, friendly roughhousing, drawing

Dislikes: Cramped spaces (he’s claustrophobic), people hugging him, carrots, books with complicated words, cold weather, any kind of tight or scratchy clothing

Fun Facts:

Ben meets Varian about nine months after the end of the series.

He’s good friends with Kiera and Catalina! They’re the only kids his age who can beat him in a fair fight.

He eventually grows to be taller than Varian, and absolutely uses that fact to tease him.

He’s an excellent pickpocket, though he hasn’t stolen much of anything since Quirin took him in.

He’s got a knack for drawing— he’s not too good with words, so he finds it easier to express himself with pictures. He’s also a leftie!

He’s been almost adopted several times, but Quirin is the only foster parent who kept him around for longer than a month.

Backstory: Ben is an orphan who’s been given a raw deal in life, and as a result is kinda pissed off at everyone and everything all the time. The orphanage he grew up in was lacking to say the least, and he spent much of his early childhood being routinely abused and neglected, often lashing out in aggression at those he deemed to be a threat (which was most people). He eventually starts getting into trouble with the law and is tossed in prison for multiple counts of petty theft and assault, and it’s around that time that he meets Varian, who is helping to reform Corona’s prison system and is disgusted to see that they’re still punishing children as if they were adults.

He gets Ben out of prison, but the orphanage refuses to let him come back, so Varian convinces Quirin to take him in. Quirin agrees for a few factors: 1. Ben reminds him of Varian when he was going through a rough time, and how Quirin wasn’t able to help him then, 2. He’s not getting any younger and could use some help around the farm (plus Varian has been worried about him getting lonely, now that Varian has basically moved into the castle), and 3. The kid deserves a shot at having a healthy, stable home life.

Ben only agrees to go live with Quirin because trying to survive on the streets is no picnic, and also because he’d really rather not stay in prison for any longer than he has to. He figures that it won’t last, anyway— Quirin will lose patience with him and kick him to the curb, just like every other foster parent/guardian he’s been handed off to. He gets very confused (and a little annoyed) when Quirin turns out to be incredibly patient and willing to give him as many chances as he needs. In response, Ben acts out and does everything he can think of to convince Quirin that he’s rotten to the core, but nothing works.

Ben doesn’t want to get his hopes up or let himself get attached. He manages to annoy everyone else: the other villagers, Varian, even Eugene (who visits sometimes), but never Quirin. The most he ever gets out of him is an irritated sigh.

Throughout all of this, Ben is also finding out that he kinda likes helping out on the farm, and he’s pretty good at it, too. He’s very strong for his age, and a fast learner.... except for one thing: he can’t read. The orphanage had tried to teach him, but it never really clicked and they had long since given up on him, so he just never learned, instead relying on pictures and context clues to figure out the meaning of written words. As he continues to grow more attached to Quirin, he starts wanting to be better, to deserve the love and acceptance Quirin is offering him, so his self-consciousness about reading (among other things he doesn’t like about himself) really starts to bug him.

While he's sociable and generally gets along with other children, he does have the flaw of a short temper. So when he's targeted and called out for his apparent lack of academic intelligence, things get ugly, fast, and he gets in a fight. When Quirin asks later what it was about, Ben is reluctant to tell him, and is even less enthused when Quirin later suggests enrolling him in school.

He eventually admits to Quirin that he’s illiterate, expecting to get belittled or even compared to Varian (who is an actual genius and is kind of intimidating to Ben). But Quirin.... he doesn’t care that Ben can’t read, and even offers to help teach him or find him a tutor if he wants to learn. It’s after letting himself be vulnerable and accepting Quirin’s help that Ben starts to wonder if maybe... maybe he has a shot at being part of a real family.

He starts to let himself feel at home in Old Corona, thinking (or rather hoping) he’s found somewhere he belongs... as much as he hates to admit it, he really likes it here. So he tries to keep on the straight and narrow so he can stay longer, even making an effort to be nicer to Varian (who is more than happy to help him with his reading and is the one to introduce him to the Flynn Rider series). For the first time, Ben’s future is looking bright.

Until he loses his temper again.

On a visit to the capital, he passes by his old orphanage and gets in an argument with one of the kids he used to know (and wasn’t on particularly good terms with). The argument quickly gets personal, and then physical, and Ben takes it way too far— by the time the guards arrive on the scene to break it up, the kid Ben was fighting is a bloody, mangled mess, about a minute away from passing out. The guards don’t care what awful things that kid said to Ben; all they care about is that this boy with a history of violence and petty crime just savagely attacked another child, and Ben is swiftly arrested and taken to the dungeons.

At this point, Ben has cooled down enough to realize just how serious his situation really is. Even if they let him out of prison to go back to Quirin, he’s sure this is the last straw and that Quirin won’t want anything to do with him— he’s violent and dangerous, and no matter what he does he can’t seem to stay out of trouble, even when he really does try his best to be good. He hates himself for blowing his one chance at finding a home and family, and consoles himself by thinking that it was only a matter of time and at least the wait is over (boy’s got some raging self-loathing issues if you haven’t noticed).

Varian gets word that Ben’s been arrested and heads down to the dungeons to hear his side of the story, but Ben is too ashamed to even look him in the eye. Ben was told by the guards that, although he won’t be left to rot in the dungeons or thrown onto a prison barge (as per the new regulations regarding juvenile justice), he’ll be sent away to a correctional facility for delinquents— aka, reform school. Ben has no idea what to expect, but based on what the guards have been saying about it (very loudly, just outside his cell), it sounds no better than regular prison.

Varian is having absolutely none of this and contacts Quirin to tell him what’s going on— Quirin is up at the castle within the hour to try and bail Ben out, or at least renegotiate his sentence. However, since Quirin is not yet technically related to Ben— for the past year or so, he’s legally been closer to a parole officer than anything else— the law states that he can’t actually do much to interfere with Ben’s bail or sentence, especially since the boy is a repeat offender and is now classified as a menace to society.

Instead of giving up on the situation, Quirin decides to become Ben’s legal guardian right then and there, whipping out the adoption papers he’s been keeping in his vest for weeks— he’s been wanting to ask Ben if he’d like to be adopted for a while now, but he could never find the right moment. Now seems to be as good a time as any.

It takes a day or two to sort things out (Nigel and Fred both aren’t too keen on releasing a violent criminal for any reason, even if that criminal is like twelve), but Varian is able to pull some strings with Raps and Eugene to give Quirin full guardianship over Ben. Meanwhile, Ben is expecting he'll be shipped off any day now— when he sees Varian come back down to the prison with a guard, he expects it's to say goodbye... not to remove his shackles and lead him back upstairs to the throne room, where Quirin and Rapunzel are waiting beside a stack of paperwork. They only need one more signature to make the adoption official: Ben’s.

Luckily, Varian and Quirin have been helping him practice writing his name, and once he signs, Quirin tosses Raps the bail money (which she had whittled down to like two coins) and they head back home— Ben’s permanent home.

Ben’s story is a result of many many rambles between me and Feen on Discord, and I don’t think we’re gonna be stopping anytime soon— Ben is such a fun OC to flesh out XD

Feen and I are actually running a Q&A for Ben over on Feen’s Instagram story, y’all should go check it out!

#ben #tangled oc #tangled the series #tts ocs #varian #quirin #long post #AJ draws #AJ talks #finnoky

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keikoh · 3 years ago

Note

In terms of shinigami abilities, what are Keiko's strengths and weaknesses? (and maybe likes/dislikes -just because they are good/bad at something doesn't always indicate if they like it or not)

STRENGTHS:

Keiko's extremely brave, to a fault perhaps! She'll face down bullies and stand up for others, she doesn't shrink down or shy away. Rangiku's shown her how to perfectly punch motherfuckers in the face without breaking a nail.

Sharp! She's a fast learner and absolutely talented in her observational skills -- being able to catch onto patterns and other details within moments of it appearing, an active and honed mind, making her also better equipped to unleash some lethal sarcasm and wit at the drop of a dime.

She's an agile little fucker, slippery, hard to pin down or catch because she zips around so quickly. This translates over into Keiko becoming excellent with Shunpo once she learns and grasps the art.

To follow in her dad's footsteps, Keiko focuses a lot of her training around kenjutsu, and while she's relatively sloppy with it when she's younger, she refines this as she ages and turns her relentless charging tactics of her childhood into a terrifying flurry of quick attacks which can easily overwhelm

Basically, she's a speedy gremlin

WEAKNESSES:

Kido. One hundred percent it's Kido. She's awful at memorizing those long incantations and sees no reason in stopping, pausing a fight, leaving herself vulnerable, only to fire off something that probably won't even be strong enough to hurt her enemies. Her low motivation to actually master this art leaves her fairly vulnerable in facing against Kido, too, as well as generally not coping well with scenarios that call specifically for Kido. She knows basics.

Keiko isn't physically strong, at all, and it'd take maybe one decent hit for her to be down and out. She really needs to work on her durability.

Can become highly emotional, riled, or otherwise discouraged during battle. Keiko has some insecurities about being able to measure up to her parents, who are both titled Shinigami, whereas she feels like nothing truly special beyond her lineage. It's a sore spot, leaving her prone to acts in attempts to prove herself perhaps falling flat on its face, shattering her self-esteem.

Over-compensating independence: she'll isolate herself unnecessarily or face things alone without reasoning beyond 'I can handle it' and a blood-given inability to ask for help.

LIKES:

Food. Snacks. Especially things to munch on, specifically if it's junk food from the human world. Her parents live a fairly traditionalist lifestyle, so Keiko enjoys stuffing her bag full of convenience store snacks to bring back to Soul Society with her during World of the Living visits.

Tech, namely her phone. She has an iPhone 6s that Gin gifted her for one of her birthdays via Urahara's shop. It's in pristine condition, despite now being several years old, and runs smoothly. Keiko guards it carefully. She also enjoys video games ( Hotaru showed her them, and she got hooked; she likes either simply watching or playing them with others, she doesn't like solo-playing them ) and watching Youtube, especially hair and makeup tutorials.

Winter festivals, particularly when there are firework shows and games. It's a tradition in her family to go to them yearly, and they always make her feel warm, safe, and nostalgic. She likes getting prettied up for them, too, even if she initially didn't like the yucky kimono when she was younger -- too busy trying to emulate her dad. Rangiku's helped her with embracing femininity a lot.

Training with Gin, in any setting. She feels like these are the cherished moments between just the two of them where she can ask him anything and he'll answer. The bonding and experience she gains from each session makes her ready to break anyone's nose who tries to badmouth her father.

DISLIKES:

Being coddled. Even if she wants it, she hates the feeling of being babied or being sheltered away from the truth. She doesn't like it when her parents use that hushed tone around her, the 'we'll talk about this later when she's not here' voice. It grates at her trust and makes her feel like they're keeping secrets from her, like she can't handle them.

Cowards. Anyone who talks shit but then scrams as soon as the threat of getting hit pops up. People who have no problem making assumptions and accusations at her and her family while thinking they can just run away from consequences or cry out if she strikes at them for it. Keiko'll get in trouble again and again because of these loud-mouthed babies, and she has no shame in it.

Mayuri. What the actual fuck is that guy? He looks like a clown from those scary haunted movies she's discouraged from watching ( but she definitely snuck out and watched ) and now she has nightmares that pop up every now and again about his weird painted face and lipless mouth.

KIDO. Seriously, she hates this shit. Why is it a required skillset in the Shinigami Academy? Most of the Shinigami, even seated officers, almost never use Kido in battle!!! This isn't fair!! Who has time to shout a paragraph at someone!?

#I THINK I DID WHAT YOU ASKED BUT IF I DIDN'T THEN PLS LET ME KNOW --#headcanon.#;__; i missed my gorl.#most if not all of this is in the assumption of a young / young adult keiko and not a full fledged #seated shinigami keiko or anything --#though that EVENTUALLY happens...

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cadenceindigo · 3 years ago

Text

☽ [ Bill Skarsgard, he/him, cismale] ☾ [ Cadence “Cade” Booker ] has lived in [ the hills ] for [ 31 years ] now. the [ 31 ] year old [ vampire ] makes an honest earning as a/an [ fighter ] for [ the crowbar ]. truthfully, they remind me of [ sunken eyes, cigarettes hanging out of pursed lips, and luxury watches ]. while they typically keep their head out of gang business, [ Cade ] can’t help but side with [ neither ]. to tune it all out though, they blast [ Carrollton by $uicideboy$ ] on full volume. ☼☼

full name: Cadence Indigo Booker

birthday: August 9, 1990

height: 6′4″

species: vampire

history:

TW: abuse, domestic violence, death mention, abuse of a minor

In the 80s and 90s, the sheriff of Skull was none other than John Booker. An adored member of society, everyone thought Sheriff Booker was a fine, upstanding man. And they had no reason not to believe that was the truth. From the outside, it looked as if everything was magnificent. He had a lovely, young, demure wife, they had the picture perfect son. Everything appeared to be going well. Behind the scenes, though, was a different story. The sheriff’s wife, Cady, was only demure because the threat of what would happen to her back home if she stepped out of line was so great. Young Cadence was only excelled in sports and school and music because he had no other choice. Anything less than perfection was punished. Behind the locked doors of their house in the hills, John Booker was not the friendly, shining community member he was outside, in there he was a monster.

One night, it reached it’s ultimate, vile peak, and 12 year old Cade watched as his mother’s last breath was beaten out of her. And when the still rage-filled eyes of his father turned on him, he ran. But where was he expected to hide? Who was he expected to run to? The sheriff? So he hid. He hid for three days as the news of his mothers “fatal fall down the stairs” spread, until they found him. Terrified, he dared to tell the truth to the cop that found him. But, of course, it was simply the scared mutterings of a 12 year old boy that had just witnessed the death of his mother. But that little whisper spread. One detective had been wise enough to believe it, and then another. The next four years were hell as they investigated his father. While he had been taken out of his father’s custody, John still managed to torment his son while he acted as the only witness to his foulest crime. Not to mention being the center of media attention on the towns wildest news story for a time. And by the time he was finally convicted and jailed, 16 year old Cade was broken. But he was no longer the 12 year old boy that was going to run and hide. Now he wanted revenge.

His father was off limits, for now, but Cade started channelling his hatred into all authority figures. Once a star student, he was now a terror to all teachers. Foster parents quickly gave up trying to take him in. Cops around the town that already knew his name, became familiar with it for a different reason. Cade became the most annoying of petty criminals. Dropped out of school. Dedicating his life to becoming an annoying plague on all of the powerful people in Skull. He was already notorious around the town, he figured he’d make it for his own reason now.

It was during all of this that a mentor found him and brought him to the fighting ring at the crowbar. While he was still underage, it was easy for people to sympathize with him and turn a blind eye. He started fighting then, at 16. He was awful, but he had years of experience taking a beating, and he always managed to get back up. Eventually, he began to gain respect and also skill. By the time he was twenty, he was winning more than losing. By 25, he’d won enough money to have bought his father’s old house in the hills. By 30, he was one of the most famed fighters of the ring.

current:

Cade is not only on the of the Crowbars prized fighters, he’s also still a constant menace around town. Always narrowly avoiding getting caught, he continues to make life as hard as possible for government and law enforcement around the town. If he’d been caught and tried, his rap sheet would be a mile long: arson, theft, assault, battery, breaking and entering, burglary, etc. etc., but he hadn’t. And as much as cops may have their suspicions on who it is that is terrorizing their town, they would never be able to nail him down.

About five years ago, Cade’s desire for revenge lead him to seek out a vampire willing to turn him. He wanted to never die, so that he would rest assured that he would live to watch his father perish. Or, preferably, live to see him get out of jail so he could do it himself. It wasn’t easy to find a willing participant, but without enough begging and money he made it happen, and he was turned.

personality:

Cade is, for lack of better word, a dick. Damaged and reclusive, he is rarely interested in making friends. He’d rather have enemies. Unless you have something to offer him, he probably won’t waste his time. He certainly doesn’t let anyone close. If anyone dares to mention his family history, they’re removed from his life forever. Romantic interests are cut short after a few nightly, unfeeling, trysts. He’s abrasive, walled-up and hard headed, and doesn’t care to hurt people’s feelings. Also if anyone calls him anything other than Cade, they’re likely to get a punch to the face or, at the very least, a glare that indicates one is incoming.

wanted connections:

Mentor: the one that first brought 16 year old Cade to the crowbar and introduced him to fighting. Cade doesn’t respect elders or authority, so these two have likely had it out many times, but this is also the only person that has any hope of keeping the man in line. At the very least, got him to channel all of his violent energy into fighting, so that his criminal streak didn’t become a deadly one

Vampire: the vampire that he finally agreed to turn him. SImple enough. Open to discussing how their relationship played out, if it really did any further once he was turned. Taken

#skullaz:intro

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captain-emmajones · 4 years ago

Text

Love, Emma (7/7)

(Art by the wonderful @carpedzem <33)

Loosely based on Love, Rosie (2014).

Killian and Emma are best friends and neighbors. They’ve always been – until he leaves for the Navy when his brother dies. When he comes back, nine months later, summer has begun and childhood is ending. Emma can tell something is changed in him, but she doesn’t know what. Until she does. He’s fallen in love with someone else.

And then, suddenly, they’re kissing on her nineteenth birthday. When she asks him to forget their night out, and never talk about it again, Killian thinks she means to tell him she regrets the kiss they exchanged. Except she has no memory of it.

Big thank you to @profdanglaisstuff for being a wonderful beta and having my back all through this work!

Friends to Lovers - Mutual Pining - Angst - Fluff - 7000 words - ao3

Part 1 - MIRRORBALL, Part 2 - AUGUST , Part 3 - HOAX, Part 4 - PEACE, Part 5 - THIS IS ME TRYING, Part 6 - CARDIGAN

Note: This is it, the great, the terrible last chapter. I hope you guys will like this as much as I tortured myself writing it, making sure it is the perfect ending to this story :’) It’s been a pleasure writing this story, I loved every second of it and yeah...Thank you for sticking with me through this. It’s been really lovely having you as my readers.

PART 7 - INVISIBLE STRING

Present Day -- August, Storybrooke, Maine.

That night, Granny’s dinner is fuller than usual. Fuller with people, fuller with life.

It’s an agreeable summer night, the air a cool breeze against Killian and Emma’s bare arms as Mary Margaret and David argue over the color choice of the napkins for their upcoming wedding. Crickets chirp all around them, seeming to mock them.

Their plates of food are now empty, and Ruby expertely piles them up on her left arm as Mary Margaret shoots a death glare at her boyfriend.

“White is simply perfect, David.”

“So you play Snow White once in High School and now it’s your favorite color? That’s ridiculous, Mary Margaret.”

“Is it now? And what kind of color would you go for? Orange?”

“Well, orange would be a statement for one!”

“Over my dead body, David. It’s white or nothing.”

If Emma weren’t so distracted by the warmth of Killian’s fingers around hers, she would have probably choked on her beer and mumbled “Mary Margaret - 1, David - 0.”

Thankfully for everyone, the palm that curled around hers a few minutes ago metaphorically threw her straight into a pink cloud kind of paradise.

Looking up from their intertwined fingers, Emma is greeted by the very real purple pink clouds in the night sky, behind Killian and Mary Margaret’s back. They are sitting opposite Emma and David, while Ingrid sits in the middle, a small contented smile on her lips, as she eats her onion rings in silence.

Fairy lights hang above their heads. Emma loves fairy lights, she always has.

“Why not settle for another color, mates?” tries Killian in a calm, soothing voice, and Emma is surprised he is talking at all.

He should know better. Grave, stupid mistake it is to get between Mary Margaret, David and their napkins.

“NEVER,” the couple answer as one voice, and Emma watches with a chuckle caught in her throat as Killian backs away, hands in front of his face.

“Wohoho, mates. Calm down. The only people you’re allowed to kill are each other.”

And as Emma swallows another grin, she thinks Killian and she haven’t talked about it, but that’s fine. Emma’s brain doesn’t seem able to come up with words, anyway.

A few hours ago, the walk back to Ingrid’s was achieved in near complete silence, and it was weird -- considering with whom she was walking. Actually, cross that -- it was weird to be walking back to her childhood house with Killian Jones, period.

But Emma was able to find comfort in Killian’s lack of words as well, and god knows how talkative Killian can be, she found comfort in his breathy tone when he handed her the box back and the flush on his cheeks, knowing if she could barely hear anything if not for her own heartbeats, surely he wasn’t pulling this any better than she was.

“Earth to Emma, would you like a desert?”

Emma blinks. Two green eyes are staring at her.

Right. Dinner. Granny’s. Damnit, focus Emma. Ruby’s voice sends a shameful loop down Emma’s belly.

“...Mmm, no, actually. I’m fine, for now.”

Ruby’s raising an eyebrow. Everyone is staring at her. Why are they staring?

“Are you sure, Ems?”

“I am. Why do you ask?”

“...It’s just, it doesn’t sound a lot like you.”

And then Emma’s pretty sure her hair stands on end.

“Really.” And each word is meant to sound more threatening than the last. “I. Am. Fine. Ruby.”

She’s not looking at him, but Emma catches Killian’s small chuckle all the same. It’s hard to ignore how easily her rage melts away, and she hides the beginning of a smile behind a napkin.

“Fine.” And Ruby nearly sounds like she is the one who got attacked. (Perhaps she was. But she deserved it.)

As the waitress disappears in a clatter of heels, Ingrid is tapping a napkin against her mouth, delicately, and Emma knows very well what this means.

“Well, it’s already 10pm. I think I’ll leave you youngsters to it.”

Emma watches as Ingrid folds the napkin in front of her, just like she always does, and gracefully stands up.

“Goodnight, kids.” Ingrid grins, and everyone replies with a lively “Goodnight, Ingrid!”

A kiss is dropped onto Emma’s forehead, and Emma doesn’t miss the subtle pat on the back Killian receives on Ingrid’s way out. Emma thinks Ingrid’s always liked Killian, but then she stops thinking about it because David and Mary Margaret are coughing, and it is the least natural piece of acting Emma’s had the chance to witness in a while.

They both exchange a sly glance, nod and stand up at their turn, and Emma stares at them -- cheeks burning.

“Yeah, we’ll go, too. It’s getting pretty late, and we flew in very early this morning.”

Traitor, shout Emma’s eyes at Mary Margaret, but the small brunette is smiling with all of her teeth out and doesn’t seem concerned by Emma’s impending murder threat.

“Enjoy your night, guys,” David looks far too delighted. “Byye.”

“Aha, bye guys.”

Away from Granny’s dinner and up Main Street towards Granny’s B&B, the couple vanishes into the night.

And just like that, Emma and Killian are alone under the fairy lights.

Chirp, chirp.

This time, Emma cannot ignore the childish panic that strangles her throat, as his touch begins to burn her skin and her hand slowly slides out of his palm. She looks down at the green plastic table.

What to do now? Jesus, she is not nineteen anymore, she needs to take initiative, and—

“Fancy a walk along the beach, Emma?”asks Killian, and Emma is so thankful for the distraction she nearly knocks the table down as she springs to her feet.

“Excellent idea!” Why do her legs feel so wobbly?

And Killian smirks, and she wonders if he knows just how badly she is afraid, of him, of her, of risking her heart.

“Perfect then, let’s sail away.”

But she wants this to work, she wants them to work. She spent a good part of her life agonizing over this relationship, daydreaming about it, and then cursing it, and it better be as good as she thought it would be.

As things turn out, this walk along the beach feels like brutally falling down a rabbit hole. It knocks the wind out of Emma and it is wonderfully terrifying.

The wind blows that night. Salt air dances with Emma’s light dress and Killian’s hair.

Emma’s shoes dangle from her fingers, but she is still shaking like a leaf.

Awful, isn’t it, to finally get all you’ve ever dreamed of?

She knows it’s not entirely hers yet, she knows she still has to dash forward and grab it with her two hands, and not let it go – on any account. (Do you want it?)

It’s terrifying.

She did not reach out to Killian, this past month, although she knew about his letter...and she probably wouldn’t have reached out first, had he not appeared on her porch.

There is still this stupid fear, down her stomach, this stupid fear that he never cared, he never will, and this is all a sick joke.

(She wants it.)

“Should we sit?”

“Aye.”

He complies as she sprawls into the sand she feels moist under her toes, sitting down a few inches from him.

Somehow, staring at him still feels illegal.

When he gets a flask of rum out of his leather jacket, she rolls her eyes, and her bracelet glints under the moonlight. For the first time in ages, it is not a painful sight. She does not twist the little charms.

“Really? Is rum your solution to everything?”

“It’s not rum, Swan. It’s merely water.”

“Is it now?”

“Nah, it’s definitely rum. But it never hurts to have a drink between friends.”

And at that wicked, wicked word, they both stare at one another and gape slightly.

It should be funny. Except it still itches.

Aren’t they friends?

There are stars reflected in his eyes. There is still this ache inside her chest.

Emma is urged by a desire to look down then, but she doesn’t cave in. Instead, her mouth curves into a smile.

“…Friends or other types of acquaintances,” he adds after a while, and Emma’s smile widens.

The flask of rum is handed to her, and she drinks a few mouthfuls that diffuse a sweet heat and courage down her throat. Lord does she need it.

“Acquaintances, you say, um?”

She licks the small drop of rum that rolls down her lower lip, notices with satisfaction as Killian’s eyes follow the movement of her tongue and widen when he realizes she has caught him red-handed.

“Aye. I believe we’ve been acquainted.” There is a delicious twirl, down in her stomach, that could drown her fears, she knows it, if only she allowed herself to let go.

“Right.”

Idiot. Her cheeks burn. It is ridiculous, they are ridiculous and she doesn’t mind.

Woosh, woosh, the waves giggle.

As Emma inhales deeply, she figures she has to give him back his flask and that this -- whatever the hell this really is -- is probably going to be more difficult than she initially thought.

Her fingers brush against his as his hand closes over the flask -- of course they do -- and Emma couldn’t honestly say who’s to blame.

“Thanks, Swan.”

Oh, how many scenarios she made up in her mind, about him showing up. They all ended with their lips locked together. What she had a very hard time figuring out was the in-between. The talking. The confession. Because there has to be one, right?

She hears him gulp a few mouthfuls of rum down next to her and she refocuses her gaze on him. He clears his throat.

“So, erm, any plans for the foreseeable future?” he inquires.

The flask is buried in the sand between them.

“I don’t know, to be honest. For now, I think I’ll stay in Storybrooke. It’s my home.”

And then a pause, she glances at him through her eyelashes. A mischievous wave comes crashing at their feet, bites their toes.

“What about you, Killian? Still in Portsmouth?”

She watches him tilt his head next to her as he carefully sieves a handful of sand between his fingers, brows furrowed.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about moving back to Storybrooke. Joining the Navy again would not be easy, and I’m not sure it’s entirely what I desire. I mostly did it to honour Liam but it’s never been a dream of mine…”

A pause, a breath, for him, Emma has stopped breathing somewhere after “Storybrooke”. And her mouth refuses to shut.

“Plus, there’s the fact that Graham did mention the need for another deputy,” he casually adds, shoots a swift glance at her.

Oh. Breathe, Emma, breathe.

It’s very hard, then, for Emma to swallow the smile that tingles her lips.

“You are?” she asks, curses silently her quivering tone. Clears her throat. Dammit, why did it come out like this?

If he notices it, Killian doesn’t show it. Instead, he goes on, the ghost of a smile over his lips.

“Aye. I don’t think there’s anywhere else for me to be. It is high time I came home.”

Home. The word echoes between them, much like the gentle rustling of the waves.

And Emma nods and she has no idea where to put herself, what to say. She settles for telling the truth.

“That’s great. I could really use you around.” A pause. “I’ve missed you.”

Twinkle, twinkle the stars in the night sky, and the constellations in her heart as her eyes meet his. They put to shame the sea of stars in front of them.

Emma’s heart is bursting out as he slowly glances down at her lips, and then even more slowly looks up, a dangerous grin overtaking his features.

“Aye. I’ve missed you too, Swan. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore.”

Hearing him repeat her words is positively the worst thing that could have happened to her heart rate. That one nearly rips her heart out of her chest and sends it ricocheting on the waves.

She nods, laughs a bit, crinkles her nose mostly to hide how flustered she truly is.

“How…How did this happen?”

And he sighs next to her, a very dramatic sigh that she recognizes as a poor attempt to hide a deeper kind of pain. She watches as he stretches his legs, digs a shape into the sand with his fingers.

“How did you end up marrying Neal Cassidy, you mean? Poor judgement, if I do say so myself.”

The bastard.

She elbows him in the ribs, of course, he deserves it.

And he only chuckles, feigns a moan of pain, and… and grabs the arm she threw at him to bring her closer to him. There are grains of sand stuck to his skin as his hand closes over her fisted palm. As he stares at her, all air has definitely been knocked out of Emma’s lungs.

His nose gently brushes hers. Little pulses of magic seem to climb up her hand, her arm, to gently tickle her heart.

And she gazes into his eyes, mortified. Swallows hard.

“To be fair, he did hide that letter from you. A shame really, it was truly a pearl of literature.”

His breath tingles Emma’s lips, and it isn’t fair.

She snorts, she tries to at least, because it is hard to do anything when he is this close to her.

“David told you,” she mumbles, rolls her eyes dramatically, blushes furiously.

He isn’t denying the letter. He isn’t denying anything.

“Aye that he did. You can’t trust the guy with a secret, love.”

She doesn’t know what David told him over the phone, but Emma thinks it is safe to assume that it is somewhere near absolutely everything. And it should bother her, it should bother that secret and private part of herself, but Emma’s tired of fighting against herself, and she lets it go. All of it.

Her hand is still in his, twisted against his chest, right above his heart. She doesn’t mind. They could remain like this, forever, for all she minds. But that wouldn’t be very practical, now, would it?

“And it’s not like I didn’t know…” he continues, and Emma’s mouth drops even more, if it is possible. “I think I’ve known from the moment I met you. Haven’t you?”

A nervous chuckle shakes her shoulders.

“What exactly have you always known?”

“You can’t answer my question with another question, Swan. That’s just not how the English language works.”

“Well, if you could drop the metaphors and double entendre, then perhaps, perhaps I…” A breath. There’s no need to hide anymore, although something ludicrous seems about to explode inside her chest. “Y-yes, I think I knew...But I --”

“-- Good, because in that case, there’s no use for me to hold back from doing this…”

And as she opens her mouth to complain about metaphors and double entendre, again, he leans into her, tilts his face and, as Emma’s heart does a weird leaping thing in her chest, delicately presses his lips to hers.

While Emma does think it is definitely very rude of him to interrupt her like that, she cannot bring herself to complain too much.

Neither can she ignore the sudden explosion in her chest, thousands of strawberry bubbles of happiness that taste of childhood and dreams bursting out.

Oh god. She muffles a moan against his mouth, snatches her hand from his grip to tug at his hair, brings him closer to her, as close as humanly possible, presses her mouth harder against his, as hard she can, and she quite literally feels like a house set on fire.

Thump, thump, cries her heart, as their lips dance together, as his hand gets lost in her hair, and no air reaches her lungs and this goddamn flower keeps blooming inside her chest and there isn’t any space between them, and she’s pretty sure she’s combusting into flames, but it’s fine, it’s really fine when his mouth opens and gives her access to his tongue.

It’s a gentle kiss, in spite of the passion. It’s such a gentle kiss, in the way with which his hand tenderly lingers in her curls, as if he were afraid she’d shatter under his touch, or in the way his other arm curls around her waist, holds her tightly, but not too tightly, so as not to break her it seems.

Years of yearning will do that to you, make you afraid of shattering the glittering and fragile object of your affection.

And when they let go, burning forehead against burning forehead, because they really, really need to breathe, Emma doesn’t want to run. In fact, she doesn’t want this to ever end. And she doesn’t know it, but she smiles.

“Then why –” he begins, his lips lightly, delicately brushing against hers as he speaks.

And how dare he be talking! She can barely breathe.

“—why the wedding?” she lazily answers against his lips. “Because I didn’t think you cared…” A pause. “You never told me you did... You didn’t even call, after the k-kiss.”

Damnit, that was harder to spit out than anticipated. And it probably sounded more accusing than she wanted it to, but she forgives herself.

The painful memory allows her to step back a little, to gaze into his blue eyes and discover his cheeks crimson and an awestruck look on his face, as well as a lot of guilt and tenderness.

A sigh. “Of course I didn’t. I was waiting for you to do it. You were bloody engaged, may I remind you.”

Her brows furrow.

“And I did! But you didn’t answer.” Silence. “Tink did.”

She watches his features with weariness. She watches as he frowns. Backs away slightly, to gaze into her eyes, seems to seek the truth. And then, sighs.

“Of bloody course. Tink.” Emma watches as he rolls his eyes dramatically, hisses a few insults between his teeth.

She thinks he is still infuriatingly handsome.

Another nervous laughter begins rattling her body, because this is ridiculous, they are ridiculous, they just had to talk it out and it would have been fine but --

“Seems like our lack of communication isn’t only on us.”

Emma smirks. “Well, it’s mostly on us.”

“Point taken.” And it’s unfair because he smiles a bright smile then and her heart jumps once more.

And he looks down, again, at her lips, and Emma feels frozen only she is burning. She needs to kiss him again, and forever, probably.

“But if you cared--” Why is he talking again? She opens eyes she didn’t know she had shut to dart a murderous gaze on him. He doesn’t see it, the fool, keeps talking instead. “--why did you ask me to forget our kiss?”

That nearly knocks her out. “Our kiss? Which kiss?”

She doesn’t know just how right she is to ask this question.

He raises an eyebrow. His cheeks are flushed and his hair dishevelled, and Emma has to focus to look into his eyes and not stare at his swollen lips.

“You mean to tell me you don’t remember?”

And his eyes do a weird twitching thing. He doesn’t seem alright. And he sounds a little bit as if a part of himself has just died.

“I mean… I sure as hell think I would remember this.” Oh, she totally would.

“Your nineteenth birthday,” he exhales, and if he could raise his eyebrows any harder, they’d get stuck up his hairline, “we kissed on the rooftop right before you fell to the ground.”

Well, she does remember the wicked headache she got that day, but she thought it was caused by the alcohol and…

“No…Yes?” A pause. She frowns. Realization sinks in. Well that would explain a lot, indeed. “We did?”

That would explain his crumpled face as she asked him to forget their night, it would explain why he avoided her all through summer, and why he stayed with Milah, and why she started dating Neal in the first place, and oh -- they are two idiots, aren’t they?

“Aye. And you specifically asked me to forget that night.”

If she keeps frowning her eyebrows will remain stuck forever. She frowns harder.

“But I had no memory of that kiss.”

“Bloody hell.” And Killian lets go of a very dramatic sigh, shakes his head.

Emma’s mouth forms an “O” as she watches Killian glance further away, to the sea, and she begins to understand years of struggle could have been avoided, had they, had they…well, talked about it, it seems.

An angel passes.

“Damnit,” she whispers.

And Emma is surprised to find a chuckle tickling her throat. Why is she laughing? This isn’t funny.

He still isn’t looking at her. Impish waves keep nibbling their toes. She hates how heavy everything suddenly feels.

Emma thinks that all this time he thought-- he thought she didn’t care, but she did, oh she cared, and...

Emma breathes in, fingers pressed to her temples. Shrugs a bit, breathes out and casts an eye on Killian. He doesn’t seem alright. But she knows how to distract him.

“Since I don’t remember, allow me to ask: did you kiss me?”

His blue eyes flash in the dimness as she smirks.

She doesn’t think she has seen him look this offended before.

“I beg your pardon? You bloody kissed me, Emma!”

His high pitch does make her chuckle.

“Don’t give me that offended look. That does sound like something you’d do.”

Oh, the wrath sparkling in his gaze then, it’s a sight for sore eyes, and she cannot stop smiling.

“Nah, you were the one who melted onto my lips and sucked the bloody life out of me, perched on your high heels.”

“They weren’t that high. And, at least I did something about my feelings.”

“Well, you forgot so it was pretty useless in the end, anyway.”

“Hey!”

And her fist punches his chest, and he captures it again, traitor, and time stands still for a moment, as they glance at each other.

Everything still feels very fragile and terrifying. But that’s quite alright.

And then with a swing of his hip, he shifts her under his weight, onto the sand, and her body meets the ground softly.

His face surrounded by dark, tousled hair hides the moon from her sight, but as her breath catches in her chest, she doesn’t mind.

“You were saying?”

“Mmm…”

Emma thinks sand will get stuck in her hair. And it’s going to be a pain to wash it out. But that’s okay.

They’re only twenty-three, murmurs her inner voice, they’re allowed to be young and stupid and messy and –

“Well, I’m glad it didn’t take us another ten years to figure our shit out. Wouldn’t be nearly as sexy.”

“Speak for yourself, Swan.”

“Idiot.”

And without a second thought, or a first, she raises her face to capture his lips, drink his breath, because she is allowed to, and this is right and all she’s ever wanted.

Up the beach, down Main street, Killian and Emma walk along the roads of their childhood.

Emma doesn’t know where they are going, but it doesn’t seem to matter, not just yet.

Fear is of course lurking in one deep corner of her mind, but it is easy to ignore it while her hand is safely tucked in his.

“Where are you staying?” she asks as they shift to stare at one another.

Granny’s green B&B sign flashes behind Killian’s back.

Amusement sparkles in his eyes. “Granny’s.”

Emma remembers New York’s cold street lights, and the snow melting onto her lips, and Killian’s damp hair, and the sad glimmer in his blue eyes and her cold, shaking hand in his.

It was the night she decided to give him up, not knowing, not knowing he cared too.

It was the night she would have burned in hell to hear him invite her into his hotel room.

(Was it worth it, all the pain, in the end?)

“Fancy a last drink, Swan?”

Streetlights dabble gold beams into his blue eyes.

She nods, a little out of breath. Something soft and awful swallows her from inside.

“Yeah.”

And down the road, up the stairs, they go, hands clasped together. Her bracelet jingles up the stairs.

Emma remembers standing on his porch before her eighteenth birthday party, forehead pressed to the door, eyes locked on her phone screen, heart beating fast, fast.

“Come in whenever you want, I’m ready!” And her stomach twisting at his reply.

Things were so easy while she was still convinced that she was in love with him and she would never love anyone else and they had all the time in the world.

She was wrong, but that’s also fine.

(Isn’t pain just pain?)

Click, he’s unlocked the door, and Emma steps forward to gaze inside. Beyond Granny’s questionable decoration choices, everything is clean and proper and Navy and Killian. What a relief.

It is quite late now, and exhaustion burns Emma’s eyes, circles her throat and crudely brings to light her fears and insecurities. She feels bare, exposed, vulnerable under the dark green chandelier.

For a short moment, she fears there will be too much to mend between them, too many scars over their chest for them to offer their hearts again.

“Make yourself at home, Swan.”

The red leather jacket is dropped onto the bed just as he neatly folds his own on a chair by the wall.

And she keeps staring at those four walls, at this cramped room, and she thinks a month ago she was marrying someone else.

She’s still scared. Is she supposed to be scared?

“You okay, love?” he nudges her.

His hand softly grabs her shoulder.

She shrugs. If she is honest with herself, she does feel a little bit overwhelmed. This room is too silent. She can almost hear past echoes of their hearts breaking.

“Yes, I’m just…”

“Reminiscing?”

A smile. “That’s not the word I would have gone for, but yeah.”

His hand hurtles down her arm and slides into hers. His touch still shoots electric trails all over her skin.

“Want to sit down, Swan?” A nod, and he’s tucking her down with him.

When Killian switches on the small outdated TV on the wooden table in front of them, Emma sighs in relief.

And when still no words echo between them, Emma feels his eyes burn the skin of her cheek.

New York again. A cold bench. The snow falling onto his hair. This pain, in her chest, as he utters her name. Milah.

(Pain is just pain.)

“What are you thinking about, Swan?”

She blinks, licks her lips. Breathes in.

Will not look at him.

Augusta airport this time. His back, his image printed in blood over her retinas, this dark shape she cannot forget, forever turned on her.

“The past.”

The pain.

Storybrooke’s town hall. Her weary eyes twitching back and forth from Neal towards the door. Begging Killian to appear. And he doesn’t. (Or he does, but he’s too late.)

“Listen, Emma,” and his fingers have found hers again, and they are soft, and she looks up to discover his eyes even gentler, and his lips spread in a tender smile, “The past is behind us and we cannot change it.”

“But there’s been so much pain…”

She sounds like she is twelve again, she can almost touch Ingrid’s wooden fence under her fingers, can almost feel the tingling fear that a splinter might get stuck in the tender skin, and she can almost smell the yellow irises, and it almost brings her to tears.

“I know. But we can do better now.”

She nods. Can they do better? What if all of this is just a chimera and they’ve both idealized their love and what if … What if none of this is real?

She should sleep. Her eyelids are heavy and her eyes burn.

But then his hand cups her cheek, and its warmth brings her back to reality, tethers her. Her own palm settles above his as she leans into his touch. Closes her eyes, for just one bit.

She is so tired. Morpheus is luring her into his arms.

“As long as I am alive--” Oh, but then he is talking, and his voice is velvet against her skin, and she opens her eyes to stare at him. She’s pretty sure he can hear the thump of her heart. “--you can live with the conviction, Swan, that I will always be by your side.” A pause. “Always.” Another silence, his words sinking into her skin, as his fingers trace butterflies along her neck. A smile. “I’ve always been in love with you. From the moment I met you.”

Oh. Her eyes widen. Thump, thump.

She is swallowed by a gigantic wave of confused feelings. She thinks an earthquake is shattering the windows and shaking the walls. She thinks a tear rolls down her cheek, but she is not crying.

And it’s not like she didn’t know, she knew, but, but also she didn’t, for so long, and this is all very confusing and unexpected but very much expected, and he keeps staring at her and she doesn’t know what to say, for fuck’s sake.

And the only answer she can come up with is her trembling hands caressing his cheeks and then slowly grabbing the lapel of his t-shirt, and then, finally -- the pressure of her lips against his. Tender, at first, and then furious, desperate, hungry.

She wants to tell him, I loved you when you walked away from me, the first time, and the times after that, as well. I loved you although you never looked back at me, and I couldn’t look forward. I loved you when you were avoiding me, and I loved you when I didn’t think I loved you anymore. But mostly, I loved you from the moment I met you.

Instead, she presses her mouth into his, fiercely, for all of those times she wishes she had been brave enough to kiss him and she didn’t.

And Emma forgives them both. Forgives their past mistakes and heartaches.

They will do better. (They want to, and that’s already half of the journey, isn’t it?)

A number. Nineteen. Emma’s nineteen tonight. He’s been for a while now. (He feels a hundred years old since Liam left. Feels like he’s been holding his breath for centuries. Only the pain doesn’t flatter.)

They’re on a rooftop. Emma’s pink dress floats in the wind, much like a pirate flag. Her smile, that night, is bright, vivid, infuriatingly confident as she glances down at his lips.

The waves crash against the sand, back and forth, back and forth.

Her body is warm against his chest. Both of his hands hold her waist.

Time stands still, as she stands up on her tip toes and kisses him.

It’s an explosion, then, in his chest. A mercurial bliss.

And this time, he catches her before the fall. He doesn’t let her go. This time, his grip is secure around her waist, his fingers firm around her hips as she stumbles forward and they chuckle together.

This time, she doesn’t forget their kiss.

No.

Instead, she stares deeply into his eyes and she says: “I’ve been meaning to do that for a while, now.”

And he says: “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

And if everything is easy, it’s only because it is a dream.

A ray of sunshine tickles Killian’s eyelids. His face crinkles, he groans, opens one hesitant eye.

Bloody hell. What a dream. Or a nightmare, he cannot really tell.

There is a weight against his chest, bitterness at the back of his mouth.

He glances down. Emma. She fell asleep in his arms last night while he was slowly rocking her, and they forgot to close the shutters and now Killian will never fall back to sleep again.

His eyes still burn.

He gazes at her face buried in the hollow of his neck, blonde hair across his chest. He smiles.

A hospital room, eight months ago. A blinding, golden light. Her sleepy smile. “Oh, you’re awake?”

He would pinch himself if he had a hand to spare.

Those six months, without her, thinking she didn’t want him, were some of the bleakest of his life.

It was like losing a limb, only he lost two. And he had to keep on learning how to walk without an anchor, how to live without a hand and without hers to hold.

And then, David’s call, one morning.

“They broke up, Killian. Neal found your letter. I think you should do something about that, or I will personally come to murder you in your pitiful apartment, do you hear me?”

Emma snores lightly against his skin. He traces the shape of her jawline with gentle fingers.

He is terrified. Perhaps it is the only way to be, for now.

Perhaps it is good. It means they’re trying. They’re evolving, together, for the first time in ages.

A grunt, her small hand spread across her face, she’s starting to wake up, he can tell.

There is still a lot of sadness in his chest, for the boy who loved a girl and suffered deeply for it. For the boy who lost everything and still managed to lose more through the years, until there wasn’t anything left to lose.

Liam’s smile from his car window. A wave. And then void, nothing.

Killian clenches his jaw.

“Hey,” a small voice groans, “if you keep staring at me while I sleep, it’s going to get creepy.”

A grin.

“Sorry love, couldn’t sleep.”

Emma lifts her chin, green eyes shimmering in this golden morning light, and she tries a sleepy smile.

“Morning, Killian.”

“Morning, Emma.”

“Am I crushing you under my weight?”

“I think I’ll survive, love.”

She still hesitates to kiss him, he sees it in the small start of her head backwards, so he bends forward to kiss her.

It’s a sloppy morning kiss, but he wants all of them.

Last night, they absolutely did not take time to undress. Emma fell asleep like a rock, and he was too afraid he’d wake her up to try and remove his clothes.

But she seems very much awake as her legs curl around his hips, and it is very hard for Killian to ignore the way her dress climbs back up her thighs and gives away the beginning of her red panties.

He can feel his cheeks become hot and red, and suddenly Emma’s smirking at him.

“Like what you see?”

He swallows down.

“It’s quite alright, aye.”

A squeeze of her thighs around his torso, he is trapped, and his heart leaps.

“Alright?” she repeats. “That’s definitely a disappointing answer.”

As for Killian’s heart, it’s practically bursting out in his chest by now. He gulps.

He cannot say he hasn’t thought a lot about it, what it would feel like to go beyond a simple kiss with Emma. How her skin would taste under his tongue.

He may have started to think about it at around age fifteen, when he saw her come back from summer vacation all tan legs out, and he can still hear Liam’s mocking tone “If you open your mouth any wider, little brother, you’re going to swallow flies.”

The thoughts worsened after their kiss. There were some lonely, desperate moments as well during which he imagined tracing the shape of her body, much like his fingers flutter against the side of her leg right now.

His eyes don’t leave hers, scrutinizing her to know if he is allowed to go further.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to, Emma,” he whispers.

The wicked smile she shoots him is a sufficient answer. “Oh don’t worry, I want to.”

And then her lips find his again and his fingers are gripping her thigh now, clutching her skin, leaving marks, climbing back up some more and feel the soft skin right under the fabric of her dress.

She moans against his mouth, and it’s a wonderful sound, and suddenly they are both wearing far too many clothes and they have to hurry or they’ll combust into flames.

Emma straddles him just as her nimble fingers pull her dress up and throw it over her head.

“Couldn’t have done it better myself,” he mumbles and it’s very hard to look anywhere else but at her naked body.

But she’s already getting impatient with his t-shirt, and she groans. “Come on Killian, help me. Raise your arms up.”

“Didn’t think you’d become such a morning person, Swan.”

She laughs a bit as his t-shirt hits the floor in its turn in a muffled sound, and she does this thing where she stops to gaze into his eyes and he will die for a lack of oxygen.

He watches as she swallows, ogling him.

“Some things are worth waking up for.”

And then she’s melting into the skin of his neck as her fingers sift through his hair, and Killian ceases completely to think.

A month later -- Augusta Airport.

Emma clutches Ingrid’s yellow irises against her chest. Her hold is gentle but her lips form a firm line.

As she stares at the Arrivals Board in front of her, the beat of her heart is drumming in her ears, and she is pretty certain oxygen is having a very hard time reaching her lungs.

He’s only been gone a week, mumbles her inner voice, but Emma’s too happy to pay attention to her pride.

She glances up, and a breath of relief escapes Emma’s throat as the light next to Portsmouth changes color.

“He’s landed,” she whispers to herself, flowers still pressed to her chest.

She glances down, careful not to damage the beautiful bouquet Ingrid offered last night, over the dinner table.

“I know how much he loves them,” Ingrid smiled.

Another look at the clock. He should be here any time now.

Her heart skips a blissful beat.

A part of her still cannot believe this is real. That he is coming home, for good, that Emma found them a cute apartment near the beach and they’re going to get everything they’ve ever dreamed of.

“Are you sure you want to do this...I mean, we could wait, and I could go back to Ingrid’s for a while…”

A butterfly in the dark, a kiss in the night.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything…”

Gazing all around her, Emma spots the familiar large window in front of her. It still shows a blurry reflection of her body. Emma frowns. Well, that will never change. One hand reluctantly gives up on the flowers to comb her hair.

It is now mid September in Storybrooke, Maine, and Emma has to admit she’s missed him.

It wasn’t the kind of missing him she was far too familiar with only two months ago. It wasn’t a burning ache in her chest. It was just like losing your glasses and finding them again on your bed table, where you left them. It’s a kind of missing she knew to end. And it made a great difference.

As she remains very still, feet stuck to the ground, she remembers shaking, bouncing up and down on her feet, waiting for him to come back the first time, four years ago.

Nothing’s really changed. She is still Emma and he is still Killian. Except everything’s changed.

It feels like another lifetime. Emma smiles down at the flowers in her hands. A very peaceful sunflower blooms in her chest.

The crowd of people around her brings Emma back to the present. More people gather together, and Emma understands they are all just as eager to see their loved ones as she is.

And she waits, knowing her love is about to arrive.

Another few minutes go by, and time seems to slow down. She clenches her jaw. Unclenches it. Come on, relax, Emma.

And then… And then, there he is.

“Killian.” The blissful whisper escapes her throat as a brutal wave of bliss sweeps her off her feet. She doesn’t hold it back. It isn’t scary anymore.

She’s somehow thankful to notice he hasn’t changed one bit, but it’s only been a week, what was she expecting? A tender hue of blue meets her eyes and smiles in recognition.

“Emma, my love,” he mirrors her happy sigh.

Her heart beams as they walk towards each other, their pace sure and quick and knowing, and in a few steps he lets go of a thousand suitcases to pick her up from the ground.

“Careful, Killian, your flowers,” she complains even as her feet quit the floor.

And she tries to hold the bouquet away from his face, but he doesn’t seem to care and presses a long kiss to her mouth instead.

She sighs happily into his embrace, wraps her arms around his neck, and her senses are filled by him – his smell, a strong cologne she is only too familiar with, his skin under her fingers, his tousled black hair.

“I missed you,” he exhales against her cheek, and drops another kiss to her cheek.

She slowly backs away, smiling. “It’s only been a week…”

He raises an eyebrow that challenges her to lie some more. She chuckles, crinkles her nose, mumbles: “Okay, I might have missed you too…”

He sighs a dramatic sigh, rolls his eyes.

“Now, you nearly gave me a heart attack, Swan. I was this close from flying back to Portsmouth.”

Idiot, her inner voice snorts, unimpressed. But her heart isn’t very concerned, and a giggle jolts out of her throat. Even her cheeks give her away, flush furiously, and she hates them for it - come on, it’s been a month now.

Her hand lingers on his face, tracing the little scar on his cheek.

“Are you going to take those flowers, or should I keep them for myself?” She attacks in a coy, sharp tone.

He flutters his eyelashes. The fucker.

“If the lady insists.”

A roll of the eye, a bright smile, and Emma’s heart sighs -- defeated. And the flowers carefully slip into his hand.

He drops another kiss to her lips. “Thank you, love.”

“Of course, Killian.”

And then there is this very dramatic moment during which they both stare at his three enormous suitcases and wonder how the hell they are going to make this work.

“Damnit. Did you have to take your whole life with you?”

“Well, a blonde lass did ask me to move in with her.”

Her fist punches his shoulder, playfully. Another sigh echoes all through the airport’s hall.

“Well, let’s go, I guess.”

She’s quick to grab the bag he let go of to hold her and seizes two red suitcases. And he watches her, the fucker, flowers in the crook of his arm and the third suitcase secure his hand. He seems infinitely entertained.

“Don’t you dare laugh in my face, Killian Jones.”

“Well, if it weren’t for the flowers, I could maybe hel-”

“-- NO. You keep the damn flowers! For once Ingrid offered them.”

And as they are walking down the airport like old times, Emma knows they’ll do better. They already are doing better.

(Emma thinks pain is just pain, and they should have known sooner, they should have known better but she also thinks that doesn’t matter because surely there is no kind of pain that cannot be absolved by a lot of love.)

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

@yasbio2015 @bubblegum1425 @daenerysmyhsa @dancingnancyy @elizabeethan @farewell-courgette @beca0912 @stina-g @tenaciouskittynightmare @noensnaringnet @klynn-stormz @sekretny13 @tiganasummertree @vvbooklady1256 @brustudyblog @peggyyswan @thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @courtorderedcake @snowbellewells @kingofmyheart14 @teamhook @mariakov81 @folkloreismylullaby @officerrogers

(Might write some missing scenes, and add a few bonuses to this story, so if you’ve got anything in mind you’d like to read, hit me up ;) (actually hit me up for anything and let’s be friends.)

#cs fanfics #cs ff #captain swan #my stuff #amy writes #i need to find a new source of serotonin guys #my brain doesn't want to let this go #thank you all for your comments #and likes #and just for reading this story #it means the world to me #and i'm so glad i got to talk to some of you through this <3 #i hope you'll this #and now i'll shut up

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pinnithin-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Good Jokes

Chapter 23: The End

When the white light cleared, Tommy was in a starfield and his hands were empty. The burn wound on his shoulder was already healing over, the pain ebbing and melting away as scar tissue scrawled pale starbursts over his skin. His heart pounded as he cast his eyes around, meeting only streaks of multicolored light, galaxies and nebulas passing by like landmarks on a road trip.

His breath left him all in a rush as he realized where he was. His father had come to pick him up.

The man in the suit materialized as soon as the thought crossed his mind, clean and pressed as always, hair neat and black as cast iron. His shadowed eyes swirled like the stars around them as he regarded his son. They stood, facing one another in the void, standing on nothing. Tommy waited for his father to speak first.

“Happy Birthday, Tommy,” the man in the suit said with a smile.

Tommy stared at him, robbed of words. Birthday? Today was his birthday? Slowly, he raised his hands to clutch at his hair, drawing in a thin, shaky breath so he wouldn’t fall apart completely. The dissonance of something so routine happening in the midst of this disaster made him want to scream.

Birthdays had always been mundane to him, another insignificant turn of the wheel. But after what he’d just survived, he wondered if it was something worth celebrating. He was indescribably tired.

Thirty seven. Thirty seven revolutions around the sun. It was the worst day of his life.

He didn’t know how to respond to his father, who had plucked him out of Xen for a chat after turning his back on him hours before. There was definitely not a ‘thank you’ on his lips, and his mind was clouded with all the ways he could accuse his father of abandoning him, none of them coherent or respectful. He eyed the other man wearily and finally settled on asking, “the others?”

“Alive and well, I assure you,” his father answered. “I must congratulate you on your success in dealing with this… little issue.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed as he computed. “Success?”

“I certainly would not have been able to remedy the situation without the help of you and your associates.”

He laced his fingers behind his head and tilted his chin to the star-streaked void above him so he no longer had to look at his father. “You couldn’t have just taken care of this on your own?”

His father chuckled grimly. “Hardly. At least, not in a manner as quick and efficient as this one.”

Efficient? “Do you know how many people died?”

“I can say with confidence, Thomas, that far more would have died if the four of you had done nothing at all.”

Tommy dropped his arms from behind his head and instead pressed his fingertips against his eyelids, inhaling heavily through his nose. He didn’t answer, fighting for control of his facial expression while his father examined him. This man couldn’t possibly grasp the scope of what Tommy had just lived through, what the week’s events had done to him. He didn’t have that kind of perspective, being a god and all that; all that mattered was that his plan had worked.

Success. They had succeeded. Mission complete, crisis averted. He felt awful.

His father broke the silence evenly. “I took the liberty of upholding our little family tradition,” he went on. “The entire venue has been rented out, as usual, and I will be personally extending invitations to your new... hm. Friends.”

Tommy paused from kneading his eyeballs in consternation to give his father a puzzled look. “The scientists?” he asked. He could think of no one else.

The man in the suit eyed him with amusement. “Yes, the scientists,” he affirmed. “The experiments known as Bubby and Harold Coomer, as well as your ‘Mister Freeman.’”

“He’s not my-“

“I am well aware of the nature of your relationship,” his father spoke over him, “and I will be having a little chat with him before we convene at the entertainment center.” His eyes glittered not so much in threat as in curiosity.

This didn’t feel to Tommy like the appropriate course of action to take at all. He still recalled clearly on day two of this disaster, when Gordon had told him he planned on sleeping for five days after this was over. Sleep for five days and get a Big Mac. After everything the man had just survived, that was the bare fucking minimum of what he deserved, and Tommy had half a mind to drive Gordon to a McDonald’s himself.

“You can… probably just send him home, I think,” he intoned quietly. That was all Gordon wanted, this entire time. Everything he fought for, everything he endured. Home. Home. He just wanted to go home. Tommy’s stupid birthday could go on without him.

“I’m afraid Mister Freeman does not have a home to go to. Black Mesa, including his living quarters inside, was completely destroyed.” He lifted his brows in a way that didn’t quite line up with the tone he was attempting to convey. “He might as well have a little fun before he goes house hunting, hm?”

Tommy’s shoulders sagged in defeat. Some reward for saving the world. “Can you at least – I don’t know – do something about the hand?”

His father threaded his fingers together behind his back. “I can do something about the hand,” he said conclusively.

The galactic landscape passed on in silence. Tommy kept his gaze on the void beneath him, refusing to meet eyes with the man who was so clean and spotless while his son looked like a dead thing Sunkist had dragged in from the back porch. Exhaustion made his bones heavy and his posture downcast.

After a thoughtful pause, Tommy’s father went on. “I suppose you need some time to yourself. I trust you’ll be able to find your way... home, from here, yes?”

Distractedly, Tommy splayed his fingers, feeling the power that had abandoned him on Xen sizzling beneath the surface of his skin. His pulse ticked down to a more manageable pace and he nodded silently. His father was right once again.

“I shall take my leave, then,” he concluded. His visage began to fade as he leapt from the dimension. “I’m proud of you, son.”

Tommy raised his eyes just in time to watch his father disappear.

He didn’t have the energy to cry once he was gone, though he could feel from the prickle behind his eyes that he probably needed to. Proud. He was proud of him. What was that pride worth, at the death of so many innocent people? Tommy felt cold deep in his chest, and it wasn’t just from floating in the vacuum of space.

He missed Gordon already.

---

The Chuck E. Cheese location in Las Cruces, New Mexico, was a place Tommy Coolatta knew quite well. He expected the venue to bring warm familiarity with it after the past week’s events, but he wasn’t fully prepared for the heavy thump of nostalgia in his chest as he opened the door. The rows of tables, the multicolored lights, the arcade games, all called back to happier days he’d spent with his father here. Once he’d outgrown what was essentially a children’s casino, the two of them had kept up the birthday tradition as a little joke within the family. Besides, one was never really too old for a round or two of skee ball.

The venue was empty, save for the disinterested staff. Tommy ordered a cheese pizza, found himself a seat at one of the tables, and waited.

It was strange, being here. The music and the flickering lights would have made the experience feel otherworldly if Tommy hadn’t literally just been in another world. He felt remote and detached, like the past week’s events were his reality and the entertainment center he sat in was merely a fever dream. Tommy closed his eyes and took in the smell of pepperoni and grease and whatever cleaning product the staff used to wipe down the tables. Underneath it all the iron scent of blood still lingered on his skin. He desperately needed a shower.

Bubby and Coomer arrived after a while via portal, dropped unceremoniously from the ceiling in front of a staff that was perplexed but not paid enough to care. The older gentlemen looked just as haggard and warweary as Tommy felt, joining him at the table as soon as their eyes lit on him.

They helped themselves to the pizza he was working on. They didn’t talk. There was nothing to say.

Weirdest birthday ever.

Bubby eventually made an offhand comment that he had never been to a Chuck E. Cheese before. His tone of voice was neutral, but the pinch of his eyes betrayed his curiosity as he flicked his gaze between the arcade games.

“Never?” Tommy asked at length.

Bubby nodded. “I’ve never left the facility,” he admitted.

Dr. Coomer exchanged a surprised look with Tommy as music thumped in the background. After some thought, the scientist wiped his hands on his napkin and gave Bubby a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Chuck E. Cheese is an excellent example of what the outside world has to offer, Dr. Bubby,” he told him, smiling tiredly.

Tommy snorted into the slice of pizza he was eating. The remark was almost enough to lift his mood away from the pit of anxiety in his stomach. Maybe he really could call these gentlemen his friends. Or, at least, he might learn to do so in time.

Bubby and Coomer excused themselves to try their hand at the arcade games. Tommy remained seated, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, too antsy to partake. He checked his phone, only to find it waterlogged and dead. He tossed it onto the table in disgust. Who would he call, anyway? The one person he wanted to talk to wasn’t in his address book.

His father was taking too long. Why was he taking so long? What was there to discuss with a man who just put his life on the line to seal an alien rift? Tommy watched the remainder of the pizza grow cold on the table before him. He ached in every way there was to ache.

Just as he was beginning to debate leaving his seat for a couple nervous rounds of air hockey, space split open across the room and a portal appeared. Tommy froze, watching the air shimmer and warp as someone stepped out of it.

And there was Gordon Freeman, alive and exhausted, blinking in disorientation as he touched down onto solid earth.

Tommy ran to him, chair clattering to the floor in his haste.

Gordon’s eyes barely flickered in recognition before Tommy collided bodily with him, arms flung around his neck. The HEV suit dug hard and unyielding into his chest, a discomfort ignored in favor of the other man’s arms returning his embrace, warm and solid. A shaky exhale sounded in his ear and he felt tears spring unbidden to his eyes. He made it. This wonderful, insane survivor. He made it, and he was hugging Tommy so hard he thought his spine might snap.

The other man’s voice was broken up with relieved laughter. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday, man.”

Tommy wasn’t letting go of him just yet, staccatoing his response into Gordon’s neck. “Sorry, I was - I forgot.” The sound he made was a sob disguised as a laugh, or perhaps vice versa.

“It’s okay,” Gordon chuckled, and it sounded like he was fighting for control over his voice, too. “We were a little busy.”

Tommy’s shoulders shook with mirth, awash with joy and wonder as he clung to him. The lights and the music around them didn’t matter, nor did the stars or the hungry void beyond. They could figure out their new reality one fragile step at a time. As long as they could stand together, feeding each other with laughter, they could find their way.

---

The party didn’t end up being too bad, even if the timing was a little weird. For all the exasperation Tommy held with his father at present, it still meant a lot that a man who played time like it was a pickup basketball game still tracked how many times Tommy had orbited the sun. The Science Team played a couple arcade games, ate their first real meal in days, and took turns splashing their faces and cleaning the blood from under their fingernails in the bathroom sink. It was an interim recovery, a pit stop on the way to rejoining life.

By the time it was over, everyone felt a little more human. Human enough, at least, to step outside the liminal space they found themselves in and return to Earth. Far flung explorers, lost inside themselves. Off in search of home, whether that home was found or they built it with their own two hands.

Tommy stepped out to the parking lot, the asphalt washed white and stark in the floodlights. The cool night smelled like juniper and sagebrush. He waved goodbye to Bubby and Coomer, who decided to make their own way from here after bidding him final birthday wishes. His father had vanished a while ago to deal with some cosmic follow-up to the Xen issue. Thankfully, Tommy got a pass on that.

That left Gordon, who he found leaning against the side of the restaurant, staring vacantly out at the parking lot with his eyes half open. The jingle of a staff member’s key ring startled him out of his reverie, and he slid a look first to the manager locking up, then to Tommy’s quiet approach. He was smaller without the HEV suit on. Softer. It had been a group effort to prise the armor plating off of him and carry it to the dumpster out back, leaving him in just the black utility coveralls worn underneath.

Where once there was a shield was just a man. Gordon smiled wearily at Tommy as he leaned his shoulder against the faux sandstone next to him.

“Is someone coming to pick you up?” Tommy asked.

Gordon sighed, turning to stare back at the vacant parking lot. “No,” he said, his voice small. “I’m still kinda… I was just trying to - y’know - I was gonna figure something out,” he shrugged. “I guess.”

Tommy tilted his head to the side, studying him. “It looked to me like you were falling asleep,” he observed.

A short, humorless exhale escaped him. “I was doing a little bit of that too, yeah,” he admitted.

His glasses were still smudged to hell and splintered with cracks. Carefully, Tommy reached out to remove the frames from Gordon’s face, sliding them off as gently as he could. There was a cut across the bridge of his nose. He did his best not to jostle it.

Gordon cleared his throat, returning his gaze from the parking lot to watch him pass a hand over one lens and then the other. “Do you have a ride coming?” he asked.

In the process of literally bending physics to fix the man’s glasses, Tommy tried not to smirk. “I’m - I can teleport, Mr. Freeman,” he reminded him.

Gordon chuckled softly. “Right. How could I forget?”

“But if you need to go somewhere, I can take you,” he added.

The lenses were repaired, for the tenth time over. Tommy inspected them for a second before sliding them delicately back onto Gordon’s face, somewhat hesitant to remove his hands as he withdrew. The first time he did this, Gordon was telling him all about what he wanted to do once they made it out of Black Mesa. Even then, it had seemed like an impossible dream, stacked as the odds were against them.

Now that they had done it, that it was real, Tommy felt like they had been handed some a measureless gift. He wasn’t quite sure yet what to do with it, and he guessed Gordon didn’t have much of a clue, either.

They held one another’s gaze. Gordon’s eyes were as full and clear as a starfield in the wilderness, dark and vast and deep. The lights in the parking lot hummed in the silence. Tommy had never felt quite so lost before, yet never quite so certain of where he needed to be.

“Thank you,” Gordon said finally, his words holding enough weight to indicate that he wasn’t just grateful for the glasses repair or the offer of travel.

No response seemed an adequate enough reply, so Tommy just smiled at him. For all the nightmares he endured in the past week, he didn’t regret a second of it if he got to see Gordon looking at him like this in the close desert night. He’d completely fallen for him, as hard and as fast as a meteor burning through the atmosphere.

He felt the threat of tears returning in the tightness of his throat, so he dropped his gaze and cracked a joke. “So… did you still want to get a Big Mac, or-”

“Oh my god,” Gordon cut him off, grabbing Tommy by the lapels and pulling him in.

This kiss was so different from their first one, it may as well have happened in another lifetime. The loss and pain and almosts were replaced with a fierce, blooming hope, a warmth and possibility passing between them in the breaths they took. Tommy raised his hands to tangle in Gordon’s hair, slow and reverent. This was magic, this was sunlight. They may have just lived through hell, but as Tommy kissed Gordon, he knew that he had found heaven right here, in the person he loved.

When they broke apart, it was soft and gentle, and it wasn’t goodbye.

They stood there, foreheads touching, under the soft full moon. Gordon unknotted his hands from Tommy’s lab coat in favor of winding them around his waist. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled.

“This is gonna sound - like, this is probably a stupid question, after everything, but like,” Gordon stammered out, breathless and rosy. “D’you wanna get dinner sometime?” he asked. “Y’know, like, somewhere nice?”

Tommy drew away to look at him, a slow grin unfurling on his face. “Was Chuck E. Cheese not fancy enough for you, Mr. Freeman?”

Gordon threw his head back to laugh, clear and sweet, and it was the loveliest sound in the world.

Chapter 22 <---

#ink #fanfiction #good jokes #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work #theres kissing in this one too #hlvrai

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