#DESPITE my calc final | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tojiscrack · 1 month ago

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𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋: 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐄��𝐑

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.

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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

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???

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

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@1l-ynn @shaigimo @shuupiu @nappingnai @momoewn @xbarrjallenx @reinaswrld @anintrovertedechoe @cherriee-ee @hfuensiekabhsufnd @k0z3me @laughingfcx @jelly-fsh @anonymity-222 @blubearxy

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

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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ryukatters · 1 year ago

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Ok so imagine:

Gojo is pretty emotionally disconnected from most, refuses to let himself get attached most of the time after everything thats happened to him.

And then you show up

He doesn’t want to slip up. He doesnt want to form another bond like that. But its like he can’t stop it. Maybe you just remind him of what he’s lost, maybe it’s the way you see him as him rather than “the strongest,” an annoyance, or something shallow. It happens slow, so slow he barely even picks it up, but the feelings bloom. You just enrapture him. And he remembers everything that happened last time he got so close to another person, and he’s terrified to accept it but terrified to turn it away and loose the last chance he might have at a relationship like that.

so he takes it, tries to claim you in every sense of the word. You’re weaker than him, possibly even an underling, so there’s definitely a power dynamic that makes it easier for him to keep control. Maybe he tries to keep you hidden, but maybe he likes to drag you around like a dog, only loaning you off to somebody else when it gets too dangerous. Either way, it’s not like you can run because he’d definitely find you. He is absolutely NOT going to lose something so important to him, not again. He’d do whatever it takes, even if it meant making himself look like the bad guy in your eyes because you understand him so well, so he’s sure he can turn your relationship back to the positive side with just a little explanation and coercion

(idk if this may be a bit ooc but… its been rotting in my brain ty for letting me dump it here)

trigger warnings/content: yandere, stalking, power dynamics, obsession, Gojo is a few years older than reader, no smut, just word vomit

It starts off small. You’re a budding sorcerer, a few years Gojo’s junior, and also a new teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High, trying to adjust to your new job. Gojo takes it upon himself to mentor you. You don’t think anything of it, other than the fact that it’s a little intimidating to have the strongest sorcerer of the era to serve as your guide.

You’re strong, he can see. You’re hardened by a few rough years of working in the field, but even despite barely meeting you, your facade cracks and he can see the goodness underneath.

Gojo’s impenetrable most days. To a lot of people, he might be a loud, annoying nuisance, but to you, you see a broken man who tries to keep everyone at arm’s length at the expense of his pride and reputation as a formidable sorcerer.

Gojo’s extremely intelligent, and uses it to play his cards wisely. It took him years to build a persona that’ll prevent outsiders from ever looking in. You manage to unravel him day by day, and it almost frustrates him.

Almost.

Until he realizes there’s no point in fighting the inevitable— he’ll have to let you in eventually.

There’s a fear in Gojo’s eyes when he sees you. It’s like all tomorrows appear in a blink. Your entire essence, so good, so innocent about the cruelty of the world. It reminds him of innocence he once had in his youth. Something about you is so magnetizing, and no matter how much Gojo wants to fight it, he can’t help but be pulled in.

He wants you. And he wants you to want him. Need him. Desire him carnally in the way he does you.

Slowly, he lets you see parts of him that no one else has ever seen. His love is so overwhelming, and because it’s Satoru— with his sweet words and seemingly good intentions— he manages to have you fall for him too. And when he finally, officially has you (because let’s face it, he decided you were his long before that point), he manages to keep you under lock and key.

For your safety, he reasons.

After all— is he really the strongest if he doesn’t do what he can to keep you safe?

The rose colored glasses seem to wear off over time, and you start to see Gojo for the monster he really is.

It takes a few months of garnering courage to even attempt to begin planning your escape from him. You do it slowly, but carefully, calculating every step to make sure you don’t leave a trail behind.

You get one of the auxiliary managers to buy you a back up phone, set up a whole new bank account overseas, and eventually *secretly* book a ticket to a whole different country— one far from the grasp of Satoru Gojo.

Fate, by some miracle, seems to be on your side. Yaga calls both of you in for an emergency meeting. Gojo is being sent away on a week long mission abroad to snuff out a new curse user group that has connections to one here in Japan. You— a local mission to check out disappearances in a nearby town.

You can feel the hostility radiating from the man standing next to you. You dare to take a peek, and you see nothing but an airy smile. “Yaga, I’ll take care of their mission. It should be quick for me—“

“No, Satoru. They haven’t been on a mission in months, thanks to you being greedy and taking on everything. Being a good mentor means letting them take calculated risks.”

With that, both of you sign off on paperwork and begin to prepare for your respective missions. The atmosphere is tense in Gojo’s home— the same one he made you move into just a few months prior (“So you don’t have to worry about commuting so far. ‘Sides, there’s a lot of creeps lurking around out there, and I’m not talking about curses.”)

Gojo refuses to leave you until he makes sure that you’ll be safe. Borderline threatens Ijichi to keep a close eye on you, and the poor man is nothing short of pissing his pants.

He pulls you aside before Ijichi starts preparing the veil. One hand rests on your waist, squeezing almost a little bit too tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go, while the other tilts your chin up so you can meet his gaze.

He has his blindfold on, but you know all of his attention is on you. “I know you won’t have service inside the veil, but the second it gets lifted you’re going to call me.”

You nod, and listen like the good girl he likes you to be. With that, he gives you a kiss on the forehead before he leaves.

You manage to locate the missing victims and exorcise the curse in less than 48 hours. You do as you’re told and call Gojo. He picks up after the first ring, and you think you can hear a shuddered sigh of relief on the other line upon hearing your voice. He tells you he has to go, only because duty calls, and that he’ll talk to you soon. Be good. Update him. Don’t leave without permission.

As usual, you appease him.

You make it back home in record time, tell Ijichi to wait outside because you need him to take you somewhere.

You leave your phone behind— the one that Gojo has the location of— and shut the door with nothing but a small suitcase in tow.

Ijichi stammers, you want to go where? Alone? Does Gojo know about this?

You tell him there’s no time for questions and to start driving.

He drops you off at Narita, in the international terminal. He’s visibly sweating, no doubt fearing for both his life and yours once a certain white haired sorcerer gets back from his mission. You give him an easy smile and thank him, and he speeds off, probably to go into hiding as well.

Your hands are shaky as you hand the boarding pass to the flight crew, and the tremors don’t stop even as you take a seat inside the plane. Even when you arrive at your destination, lay down in your bed in what’s going to be your temporary home for who knows how long, does your anxiety fail to cease.

Gojo knows something is off. He’s blown up your phone with endless calls and texts, called Ijichi countless times, and even asked Yaga about your whereabouts. Nothing. Your radio silence confirms his intuition. He finishes up his mission quickly, before the one week allotment is up. The first thing he does when he steps foot in Japan is immediately teleport back home.

He’s met with silence, and hardly any trace of your cursed energy residuals to be seen. You’ve been gone for a few days, he deduces.

Anxiety starts to prickle the back of his neck, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever felt this much concern for anyone. Are you hurt? He tries calling you again, until he hears it. The slight buzzing sound emanating from your shared bedroom.

He picks up the device and sees the log of notifications. You really were gone.

Satoru looks through your phone— messages, emails, camera roll, bank statements— anything, anything to give him a hint as to what you were up to. Nothing. That’s okay, onto the next plan, which is honestly what he should’ve done first.

Being the strongest sorcerer had its perks, but none of them were greater than his privilege to investigate into people’s background history.

You know deep down there really was no escape from Satoru Gojo. That no matter the distance, he’d find a way back to you.

So when you see Gojo sitting on your bed in your hotel room, a part of you isn’t that surprised. The rest of you is paralyzed with anxiety of what comes next. You want to run, but you can’t. Your eyes begin to shift towards the still open door, trying to assess your options, but you’re hardly given a chance to finish your thought before Gojo is in front of you, closing the door. Effectively shut away from the outside world.

He’s not wearing his blindfold, you noticed. Which means he’s probably been tracking the flow of your cursed energy the moment you stepped foot into the lobby.

His stormy gaze meets yours, and he smiles. Your stomach drops.

“So…” he starts, voice sinfully low, “thought you could get away, hm?” He’s backed you up against the door, his strong frame pressed against yours.

Words bubble up your throat but die as they reach the tip of your tongue. You don’t want to set him off. You’ve only been given small glimpses into Gojo’s more sadistic, domineering side, which he does on purpose to serve as warning. You’re not like anyone else, so I’ll be good to you. In return, you must be good for me.

You start to tremble, legs beginning to fail you— but Satoru’s there to hold you steady. He uses one hand to grip your face, squishing both of your cheeks until your lips are pursed. He watches with deep adoration and fascination at how pliant the flesh is between his fingers. It’s like you were made for him.

“I’m willing to forget that you did this,” he hums, placing a quick peck to the tip of your nose before he presses his forehead against yours. “If you promise to get in that bed with me until I’ve decided you’re forgiven.”

Work belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not repost, recommend, or translate my writing on TikTok or Twitter.

#kat’s writing #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #yandere!gojo #yandere!gojo x reader #cw.yandere #tw.yandere #cw.stalking #tw.stalking #cw.obsession #tw.obsession #cw.power dynamics #tw.power dynamics #kat’s demon time

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mosscreeper-ao3 · 1 month ago

Note

The Voltron brain worms are eating me alive…

Tell your James Griffin headcanons to me oh wise one who came up with the Catholic guilt headcanon.

Can he cook? (I believe so, I believe he’s a great cook)

How do the other Paladins feel about him? Do they know about his history with Keith?

How does he feel about the Paladins?

What are his relationships like with the other MFE’s?

Do you think he has siblings? To me he screams only child.

I could really talk all day but I’ll shut up about this, for now…

Shout out to this ask for making me finally update my headcanon masterlist. (also I have some James headcanons there already here and here)

Okay first things first, if you enjoy my Catholic guilt James stuff you HAVE to go check out this art, this art, and this art by my mutual if you haven't already. They bring it to life so well and their technique is just *chefs kiss*.

He can definitely cook, and I see the Arab version enjoys making Arab dishes for his friends. He makes a full mezze (meza? meze? idk I can't write Arabic words in English for shit) for the MFEs first chance he gets.

I'd like to think Hunk and Pidge probably think of James as the smart kid from class that was definitely going places but probably didn't interact with him pre-series to form much more of an opinion on him. Lance probably hates his guts around the start of the series given how much he beefed with Keith. I do think Lance probably calms down and respects him as a pilot by the time the Paladins get back to Earth since he matures A LOT over those two years. As far as Shiro goes, I think James would be a bit of a regret for him. While he would never regret taking Keith in, I do think with how caring he is that he would feel a bit guilty that he brushed off a kid who looked up to him so much.

Hunk walked in on them kissing once, which I'll probably write at some point. Teenage Lance was probably too busy having a one sided rivalry with Keith (and being a bit self absorbed) to notice anything of the sort. Pidge probably knew as I think both James and Keith helped them bust into the Garrison. Shiro had no idea, as they got romantically involved after he disappeared. I have a scene in my main Jaith series where he's actually rather surprised that they're together.

After the Paladins get back, I see them all more or less having a respect for James if not being outright friendly. I think Allura would be really impressed by him when they meet. I mean, she clearly trusted going into combat alongside him.

On James' side, he has a VERY positive opinion of Shiro and never really stopped looking up to him. He respects Pidge's tenacity. Despite the blow-up at Hunk, I do think he also respects Hunk and admires how empathetic he is. Though he doesn't necessarily dislike Lance, he found him irritating back when they were classmates. All that said, I think he does harbor some resentment towards the Paladins as a concept. Chain of command and merit are both something he places high value on. I think the Paladins having some mystical connection giving them authority would definitely strike a nerve, at least at first. He comes around, but yeah I do not see him being thrilled with the concept of divinely granted authority (may or may not tie into his religious trauma oops).

I have some MFE headcanons here. The MFEs are very found family. Kinkade is his best friend and they roomed together all four years at the Garrison. Rizavi would kill for him but is also his number one pain in the ass (she takes very liberal interpretation of James' orders). Leifsdottir became friends with him by following him around vaguely like a lost dog for months their freshman year until he finally asked her what she was doing. They help eachother with math a lot because James is good at calc type stuff while Leifsdottir is more a stats person.

I personally think he's second youngest of four with two older brothers and a little sister. To me there's not way he isn't either a.) the middle youngest b.) an only child treated like a disappointment. He just has those vibes.

(also never shut up, I love gettign asks)

#answered asks #james griffin #arab james griffin #mfe pilots

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robobarbie · 2 years ago

Note

If Onion sang the Blooming Panic Theme, how would that go?

Are you reading yet?

Have you studied for calc?

It's about to get real dark outside.....idiot

Are your grades up? Your expenses down?

Let's study flash cards another round

I hope these nights educate you

Don't care if you never want to

Are you lockin' up? I got the key.

Can't believe you tried to run from meeee

Hope that your icon is online

Know that we'll study until nine (in the morning)

I feel your GPA

Has seen some awful days

Can't you just sit still and study for once in your LIIIIIFEEE

It's FIIIINAAAALS WEEEEEEEEEK

You got me banging my headdddd

Click the guideeeeee

Can sleep when you're deaddddddddd

Finals stress is a mess you won't forget

But you gotta know what is coming next

Checkin linkedin on the weekend

Watchin everyone else get hired, despite your best (I JUST NEED INSURANCE)

You know you need my advice

I hope my words suffice aaand

Even tho it's dire, don't get tired

Can't let yourself just botch the end like this

I feel your GEE PEE AYE

Has seen some AWFUL DAYS

I'M TRYING TO HELP AND ENSURE SOMEONE HIRES YOUUUUUUUU

IT'S FINALS WEEEEEEEK

YOU GOT ME BANGIN MY HEAD

CLICK THE GUIIIDE

CAN SLEEP WHEN UR DEAAAAADDD

Hi guys! Sorry I'm late, there was a freshman with a beer keg and-

Come on, just study to page 20 and I swear it'll be worth it.

You keep this up, and I'm gonna kick you out.

Well... That's just the dumbest thing I've heard.

You haven't seen dumb yet. (hey, guys?)

What the hell does that mean? (guys? Guys?)

CAN YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP IM TRYING TO SLEEEEEEP

IT'S FINALS WEEEEEEEEK

YOU GOT ME BANGIN MY HEAADDDDDDD

CLICK THE GUIDE (MOTHERFUCKER-)

CAN SLEEP WHEN UR DEAAAAADDDDDDDD

#bp ask #anon ask #onionthief

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ragecndybars · 9 months ago

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AO3 tag game :3

thanks so much for the tag @mvshortcut !!!!! much appreciated, this was a blast to fill out :D

How many works do you have on AO3?

86! Damn, that's more than I remember 🙀 I have been writing pretty fervently since I was pretty young, though, and I transferred all my old fics from fanfiction dot net to AO3, so it's a long stretch of time. All my old wattpad fics are still rotting somewhere though lmaooo I can't even access them anymore bc I forgot my password and I can't reset it bc I used a school email 😔

What's your total AO3 word count?

443,734! When I get to half a million I'm gonna have to throw myself a party. With boba and everything

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

Oof, okay, here we go. A lot of the fandoms I have tagged on AO3 don't really "count" because they're just aggregate tags for the same fandom, so even though AO3 says the number is 48, I'm gonna count the TRUE number as 17. (It got cut down so much because of how many video game series have different games with different fandom tags on AO3, lmao)

Here's the breakdown of the list:

Persona (Mostly Persona 3)

Fire Emblem (Mostly Shadow Dragon and Blazing Sword)

Legend of Zelda

Pokemon

Professor Layton

RWBY

Kid Icarus: Uprising

Earthbound/MOTHER

Red vs. Blue

Voltron Legendary Defender

Naruto

Final Fantasy XV

Harvest Moon

The Mysterious Benedict Society

The Avengers

Animal Crossing

Care Bears (despite having never actually consumed any Care Bears media to my knowledge)

The worst part is that this stupid list would be much, much, MUCH longer if I finished even a quarter of my WIPs 😭 Hell, even just my "Video Games" subfolder in my "Fanfiction" subfolder has more than 17 subfolders in it...

Y'all don't understand how many random fics my ADHD spares you from ever seeing I have no focus

Top five fics by kudos:

Ash and Emotion (Zelda) - Not surprising, I knew this was my most popular fic. It was for a ZeLink zine full of beautiful work :)

Resemblance (Naruto) - bro I always forget people really liked this one. Literally an unedited drabble I did in an hour for a "pride month drabble challenge" which I immediately abandoned. Trans rights I guess

Always Wanna Play (But You Never Wanna Lose) (Persona 3) - This one isn't surprising either, and I'm very proud of this fic so I'm quite chuffed to see it get so much attention... thanks everyone :')

The Beat of Your Heart (Zelda) - Now this one surprised me a lot. This was just a little piece for ZeLink week... Another unedited one, I literally was writing it on the toilet in church so I could get it out in time 😭

Comfort (Zelda) - Another ZeLink week piece, but I knew this one was popular. Also unedited, lmao. I was writing it on the day of my AP Calc finals and I rushed through the exam so I could have more time to work on the fic 😭 I made some Choices that year

Do you respond to comments?

I try to! But I get very anxious about it and tend to work myself into a tizzy, so I often put it off for later and then forget, haha. Then I'll go and respond to all my comments from the last few months and feel even weirder about it... T_T

What's the fic with the angstiest ending you've ever written?

Oof. That's... a hard one, haha. I've written a couple of fics without happy endings, though I typically don't. At least three fics which end on a canonical character death, for instance. But I'd say the ending which made me the most emo writing was Butter, a Mother 3 fic. It ends with Lucas, who's like 9, recently lost his mother, then lost his twin brother (and thinks it's his fault), and is now being neglected by his father, crawling into bed and crying. So yeah, pretty bleak, lmao... but at least he doesn't die I guess?

Do you write crossovers?

I do, but I haven't posted many yet. I'm not always huge on writing them, but I do think about them a lot. I was working on this one Persona 3 x Fire Emblem Awakening crossover but I lost steam on it, and now there's a really lovely crossover on AO3 with a similar premise that I was SO delighted to come across!!! Hope y'all don't mind me taking a break from linking my own work to shill for this one, hehe

Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

Unfortunately, yes, about six times, I'd say. Even more unfortunately, most of those times happened earlier on in my fanfic writing career, and I was pretty sensitive to hate back then, so I deleted many of the relevant fics, and some of them I don't even have access to myself anymore.

Not gonna talk about the ones that are still upsetting, but I will talk about the funny examples: on a (since deleted) RWBY fic, I said in the author's note that I "wrote them as platonic, but the fic can be read as WhiteRose", and then I got a glowing comment gushing about how good the story was which ended with "but then you had to ruin it by shitting all over WhiteRose, how about you [long suicide bait]". Third most baffling comment I've ever received.

The two most baffling were on different fics, but both were making the same weird accusation??? One was on a ZeLink fic (actually, on Comfort, my fifth most kudos'ed fic of all time now), and y'know I think I'm just gonna show you the comment in question:

The other one was on a long-since deleted fic which focused on both a romantic ship, as well as a fatherly relationship between one member of the ship and the other member's father. I guess having a fatherly relationship with your father-in-law makes your boyfriend actually your brother (and therefore you can't date him anymore). IDK man people are crazy. (tbf the commenter in question thought I was setting it up so that he'd get adopted by his boyfriend's parents, which would give them more of a case, but like... that didn't happen in the fic and wasn't going to. they just guessed at a future plot development and got angry about their guess)

Do you write smut?

I do, but I've never posted any. I've posted one fic that was very suggestive, I'd even call it "NSFW" in a sense, but never anything explicit. Maybe I will in the future? We'll see if I can ever finish anything smutty, lmao.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep, I had Ultimatum, my longest chapter-fic (and by far my most popular fic in the ff.n days) stolen and posted on another site by somebody. I reported it but never checked back up to see if it got taken down.

I also feel that I've had my work plagiarized pretty damn blatantly in another fandom (I was browsing a certain AU tag and read one which contained all the exact events and sometimes word-for-word dialogue from a fic of mine, just very very slightly rewritten) but the poster had no other works and their writing was definitely extremely juvenile, so... I figured they were a dumb kid and just decided not to raise a fuss. Checked back later and they deleted it, hopefully because they realized they shouldn't do that, so I figure there's no need to start shit over it. Honestly, if that person used that experience as a jumping-off point to write their own fics, then I'm glad it happened, imitation being the highest form of flattery and all.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, though I had someone reach out to me on fanfiction dot net a long time ago and ask permission to translate An Unheard Goodbye, which was super exciting! I agreed, but I don't believe they ever got around to it, or if they did, they never posted it. Still very flattering, and I think about that a lot, hehe.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

HOW COULD I POSSIBLY ANSWER THIS. UM. UM UH. UHHH UM UH I. UM.

I'm.... gonna say Zelda/Link? I haven't written it in FOREVER but it was such a huge part of me coming into my own as a fanfic author, so I have to give it credit for that.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

.......all of them 😭 god I have so many of these damn things. But for the prime example, I'd point to Ultimatum, an old Pokemon fic that I started in middle school. I got all the way to the climax and I feel bad leaving my readers hanging, but... at this point, if I did continue it, I would honestly have to rewrite the whole fic first just to be in line with my current understanding of the characters.

What are your writing strengths?

Y'know, I think I get character voices down extremely well in a way which elevates my dialogue and narration. That's probably the thing I'm most proud of in my own writing, at least.

What are your writing weaknesses?

BREVITY. Or the utter, glaring lack of it. I have also been known to muddy up my writing with an overabundance of A) adverbs, B) unneeded clauses tacked onto perfectly good sentences, and C) em-dashes 😭

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fics?

I think it's dope as fuck, but I currently can't really accomplish it because I'm monolingual (NOT FOR LONG IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT, I'M COMING FOR YOU, JAPANESE FLUENCY!!!!). I will also say that I don't like when authors will write characters having a story-important conversation in another language, then put the translations in the end notes or something, requiring you to either read the chapter confused or else keep scrolling back down and back up.... I think even that's totally fine to do if what's being said isn't plot-relevant, though.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Naruto. I hadn't read or watched Naruto btw, I had only read other Naruto fanfics. I have spoken on this topic many times, but it remains hilarious to me. Also, so many of my old Naruto fics are lost to the Wattpad times, but I will take this opportunity to once again share a quote which I recently managed to unearth from my long-lost unsung magnum opus:

Never ever will I intentionally attain the level of comedy gold that I managed while writing completely dead serious Naruto fanfiction on Wattpad in 2012.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written so far?

See above. How could I ever top that fic.

In all seriousness, this question always makes me sweat, but I think I'm gonna say Oil, a slightly older fic from my EliHec days which I absolutely obsessed over for months before finally managing to finish. And, unlike most of the fics that I obsess over, I think the obsession actually made it come out better rather than worse, haha.

thanks again for the tag!!!! as for me, I'll tag uhh, hm, @wizard-finix @dreamedge @misty-wisp @flyfish1999 and any other AO3 writers who see this!!! (idk how many of you use AO3 and most of the MBS authors I know have probably already been tagged hehe but anybody who wants to should absolutely feel free!!!!!!!)

#Lee Speaks #tag game #god this is long. i love ranting about my writing thank you again for the tag

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crystalelemental · 6 months ago

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As anticipated, watching someone else pick up Crystal resulted in me immediately cracking and playing it as well. And in typical fashion, I did sort of prepare a team in my head, thinking through options. And while setting up thoughts, I was confronted with something that no one will be surprised by, but must now be confronted.

I've lost my whimsy.

While setting up teams, I looked at options like Togetic and went "Man, I love Togetic, but I'm not sure it has anything of particular value for me." Or looking at options like Victreebel and Poliwrath, who I tend to catch early then never consistently use, and going "But those are stone evolutions, am I really going to deal with that?"

This is a well-known issue for me in Gens 3 and onward, where I will make a habit of fussing over nature, ability, etc, despite how little that stuff should matter. Honestly, nature in particular; good IVs are massively more important. Seriously, run the calcs. And ability can matter, but mostly doesn't seem to. I tend to over-emphasize these minutia, and get irritated about the idea of "bad moveset" as a reason not to make an attempt. This in spite of some successes like Calm Mind Absol and Sunny Day Houndoom.

I think what finally solidified it is that I will intentionally run all female Pokemon in Crystal, knowing full well how bad that hurts DVs. Like, I will massively cut my Sandslash's Atk for no benefit, with no issue in Crystal. But the idea of a slight deficit from a bad nature in later games seems insurmountable. I think that needs to be challenged. I think I get that into my head because I'm familiar with IVs and EVs and natures and those systems, and was deep into competitive around gens 4-6. And those instincts never really went away.

For Crystal, I have decided to go against those instincts and run what I want. I just got to Olivine, and I do have a Leaf Stone and a Water Stone, and am loving my Togetic in spite of its many failures. Inevitably, this is going to branch into the rest of the series, and my goal is to just take what I want to run as I get it, regardless of nature. I think that will be a bit more engaging than half the attempts I make to start these games that fall off.

#pokemon crystal

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puzzlehat · 8 months ago

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okay so the wifi i'm on right now is shitting itself despite this being a popular study spot on campus but REGARDLESS i'm studying for my third organic chemistry midterm right now (my class grade is a 90.2% so i'm barely hovering around an A and i'd REALLY like to keep it that way as unrealistic as that may be) and as much as i am absolutely loving this class i'm struggling a little with remembering all of the mechanisms (final exam review sheet posted by professor indicates 40 different reactions we need to know).

granted, a lot of them share the same patterns, but i don't know what format i'll need to compare-contrast all of them in in order to have them down pat for may 2. so right now i'm just focusing on this exam, where we've gotta know

radical substitution of alkanes and allylic substitution, the funky alkyl halide ones with the fishhook arrows. the simplified mechanism looks like halogenation except these are done with heat/light. these go through three stages: initiation from nonradical to radical, propagation from radical to radical, and termination from radical to nonradical. you get your radical intermediate via homolytic cleavage, you react it with a hydrogen coming off of the most substituted carbon, you get your next radical intermediate once the hydrogen is gone, you react all your radicals together to tie things up nicely. if your radical is on a carbon that neighbors a double bond, you have a nice stable allylic radical (thank you resonance), but if your radical is on a double bond, that's a vinyl radical and we don't like those... you also gotta pay attention to where your alkene is because that'll affect your stability too. if you're happening to do your reaction with peroxides, you'll be reacting your intermediate with the less substituted area. a halogen? on MY terminal end?

elimination and substitution reactions Sn1/Sn2/E1/E2. these are silly and complicated and i need to make a chart to understand them better, but the substitution reactions will substitute a nucleophile in for the leaving group, and the elimination reactions will make an alkene out of an alkane using a base, and the 2-reactions are concerted with steric barriers while the 1- reactions have a carbocation intermediate with stability as the barrier.

alkyne reactions, including deprotonation (basically acid-base shit), alkyne formation (using acetylene, which makes good internal alkenes and looks like Sn2, or dibromides, which looks like two E2 reactions and can be done with bromides on the same carbon or on adjacent carbons), halogenation (nonregioselective concerted anti-addition of halogens using Br2/Cl2), hydrohalogenation (markovnikov addition of Br, can happen twice if you have two equivalents of HBr, carbocation intermediate), hydration and hydroboration-oxidation (markov and anti-markov reactions, respectively; adding a hydrogen and an OH, keto-enol tautomerism where you end up with the double bond on the oxygen), and three reduction reactions (Pd/C yields alkane, Lindlar/H2 yields a cis(z)alkene, Na/NH3 yields a trans(E) alkene).

anyway i have practice problems to do and the sn1/sn2/e1/e2 reaction comparison chart to make but i'm drinking my first monster energy (ultra paradise. it's good) and i'm getting dinner w at least one of my friends in 25 minutes... calc homework still due tonight but i think i'll be able to get it... exam in 3 hours... feeling good!

#a rare brain dump from puzzlehat but making notecards was not being an efficient way to study lawl #perhaps i should make a studyblr...

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saving-ray-23 · 1 year ago

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BATGIRL (THREE)

The visit to Wayne Manor had gone well. Surprisingly well. She had left right before dinner, dropped off by Alfred despite her insistence that the bus station wasn't even far. They had asked her to stay, but Babs didn't want to risk overstaying her welcome. Instead, for dinner she had microwavable ramen and some Japanese energy drink that tasted like kelp. It wasn't the worst meal she had, but the snacks at Wayne Manor had spoiled her slightly in the past few hours, creating a small pit of regret in her gut.

The rest of the weekend was rather uneventful compared to her Friday with Dick Grayson. She tried her best to forget about the whole experience, doing her best to move on. To stop hoping that it would happen again. Because Babs wasn't about to make that mistake. Not after what happened last time she called someone friend.

It was Tuesday night and practice had been canceled because of the storm thundering all school day. Barbara was home before four and only started working on her homework an hour later, annoyed with the mere thought of more math problems to solve. She was good at math, but damn it was boring. Babs phone rang loudly as she chewed on her pencil, distracting her from staring at her calc homework. Stumbling over a forgotten shoe, she grabbed her phone off her bed before the second ring.

"This better be good." She breathed sarcastically, expecting her cousin to respond.

Instead, Dick Grayson's muffled snort rang through the phone, making her trip and nearly tip over her desk. "Detective Gordon, thank God. I have to report a crime— known criminal Jason Todd has stolen my favorite shirt."

Swallowing, she let herself play along. "Shit. I'll post an APB— maybe an Amber Alert. Tell me, Mr. Grayson, would you like to press charges?"

"Punish him to the fullest extent of the law. He's a wild animal, I tell you."

Babs couldn't help but giggle. "I'll put my best detectives on the case."

"That simply won't do, Detective. I must insist you come to Wayne Manor post hence."

"I think it's posthaste."

"Really? I always— agh, Jason!"

A thud rang from the other end of the phone, followed by a loud shout and what sounded suspiciously like "B said you're only allowed to bite pedos!"

Barbara laughed loudly, returning to sit on her desk chair and spinning as she waited for the commotion to end.

"Detective Gordon, the situation is escalating— he's taken my backpack hostage. I can't do my homework now!"

"What an utter travesty." She deadpanned, glaring at her own homework taunting her from the desk.

"Detective, I beg of you— come save this damsel in distress!"

She huffed, wondering if he was still joking around. "For real?"

"The realest, Detective. I'm making a citizen's arrest!"

"I'm half an hour away, Dick." She reminded, shaking her head. "And I'm pretty sure neither of us has a license— "

"Look outside your window."

Choking on air, Barbara peered through the window, eyes going wide as she saw the black car parked outside her house. And through the driver's seat, Alfred Pennyworth himself waved.

"Uh . . . I guess I'm on my way?" She finally said, unsure of herself.

"Thank God! See you in thirty-five minutes, Detective Gordon!"

"You don't even like Wonder Woman!" Babs heard as she walked into the foyer closest to the front entrance.

The place was a mess. A lamp was knocked over, but thankfully not broken, while more furniture surrounded it upturned or pushed against the bookshelves. Dick squared off with what seemed to be a middle-school aged boy, the latter glaring harshly. Dick, on the other hand, looked like he was fighting back a grin.

Spotting her in the doorway, Dick flat-out grinned, grabbing the child in a loose chokehold. "Detective, thank God! There's been an assault on top of the theft!"

"You said you were calling Gordon!" The younger boy yelped, wriggling in the hold and pouting. "Not some girl."

"Barbara Gordon, at your service." She introduced, trying her best not to laugh. "Jason Todd, I presume?"

Moving, and therefore dragging Jason with him, Dick met her in the middle of the room, still smiling. "This is the little thief!"

Peering down at Dick's adoptive brother, Barbara let herself wink at Jason before imitating the serious expression the Commissioner always had on. "The only criminal I see is you, Richard Grayson."

"Huh?" Jason squinted up at her, while the smile dropped comically from Dick's face.

"I'm an angel!" Dick exclaimed, dropping his brother in the process.

"Richard Grayson, you're wanted in seventeen states." She joked, placing a hesitant hand on Jason's shoulder. "Parkour without a permit, badgering an officer of the law— "

"I've never so much as done a somersault— "

"Lying under oath— " She added, glancing at Dick's brother. "Anything to add, agent Todd?"

"Agent?" Dick dramatically shouted, faking a confused expression.

"That's right— Agent Jason Todd, bitch!" The kid shouted, jumping on one of the only upright pieces of furniture, a heavy-looking couch. The Wonder Woman shirt he wore nearly fell to his knees and red shorts peeked out from underneath, flapping with his other attire as he laughed.

"Swear jar!" Dick shouted, laughing. "I'm telling Bruce!"

"Then I'm telling him about what really happened to the roses!"

The two glared, before Dick sighed. Loudly.

"Truce?"

Instead, of answering, the younger ran from the room, his footsteps echoing through the Manor. Dick looked at Barbara sheepishly, hand running through his hair. "Care to give me an assist, Detective?"

"I don't typically work with criminals . . . " She fought the urge to smile. "However, in exchange for one of those sick Wonder Woman tees, I might be willing to cut a deal."

The two grinned at each other before moving towards the closest couch, setting it upright with an embarrassing struggle.

"So," She began, fixing the lamp. "That's your little brother, huh?"

"As of two months ago." He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "He's a pain ninety-eight percent of the time."

"And the other two?"

"He's . . . alright. For an twelve-year-old, at least."

Babs suddenly felt very old, thinking of Jason Todd running through the halls in his brother's shirt, probably causing trouble. She remembered being twelve; back then, she still slept in her uncle's tee-shirts and kept at least two stuffed animals with her every night. And while she swore she still had some old toys stashed away in the attic, she had long ago bought her own pajamas to sleep in. Posters covered the bright purple walls she loved when she was nine and all the books the Commissioner would read to her before bed had been replaced by mystery novels and notebooks that were a step from falling apart.

"Earth to Barbara— "

Blinking, Barbara came back to reality. "Sorry, I was just . . . "

"Thinking about how awesome I am?" He joked, righting the last piece of wronged furniture.

"Wondering if I left the stove on."

"Did you?"

She shrugged, awkward. "Probably."

"Well," He boomed, slinging an arm over her shoulder. "I think we've earned a movie marathon, Detective."

"Disney or Pixar?" She asked as they walked.

He snorted, shaking his head. "Is that even a question?"

#batman #batgirl #barbara gordon #babs gordon #robin #dc #dcu #dc au #batfam

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trinity-mia · 10 months ago

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a story as endless as the ocean

the lightning thief

0.2 fruit ladies of death

warnings : mention of an abusive home life ( fuck gabe fr )

word count : 3.2k

0.2 Some Old Ladies Who Knit Socks Predict My Death

Throughout the last few weeks of school, I hardly even thought of Mrs. Dodds. I was way too busy stressing over a new photoshoot for the September cover of Vogue, completing the final few scenes needed for the upcoming season of The Walking Dead that would be released early the next year, and finishing off my final few assignments to make sure I maintained my 4.0 to keep my mind occupied with the thought of something that I very well could've convinced myself I dreamt up.

She visited me in my sleep every night, though. I didn't have much time during my last days to think about her a lot, so I shoved it to the back of my mind, throwing myself into projects to keep myself distracted. But there she came, every night like clockwork— whether I was in bed in my dorm room or in another random hotel room— making my heart thunder in my chest and sending a chill up my spine.

I might've been able to forget about it. I might've even been able to convince myself it had never happened, if I really tried— I'd done something similar before, at any rate. The only problem was Grover. He kept giving me worried looks and seemed to be on edge every time he was around me. Every time I'd ask him what was wrong, he'd tell me nothing and that he was fine. I would've believed him, too. The only problem with that is: Grover's an awful liar and couldn't fool me even if his life depended on it.

Mrs. Kerr, who had supposedly been our calc teacher since Christmas, was a perky blonde woman and I had never seen her in my entire life, but she was a good teacher, so I went with it.

The shitty weather continued; there were very few days it didn't rain. A thunderstorm ended up blowing out the windows of a few of my friends' dorms. Vivian, my senior roommate and one of the few non-fake people in this school, and I had gotten lucky. She was bubbly and on the cheer team with me, and I'd known her a few years before we would separate on graduation day. She had a boyfriend, Michah Newsome if I remembered correctly, who was already in college at LSU and she'd be joining him there, after the school year ended.

A few days after the thunderstorm, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy. Once we'd finished all of the units needed, our social studies teacher made us study the irregular amount of small planes that'd taken a dive into the Atlantic in the past few months.

My own issues weren't getting any better— I felt more irritable than I'd ever been and even the tiniest of inconveniences had me snapping at the nearest person. Danny had gotten particularly aggravated with me and after one of our worse arguments, had me storming off of the set of The Avengers and almost too pissed off to go to Columbia Cheer tryouts the next day.

Despite that, I couldn't wait for the year to be over so I'd get to see my mother again. I hadn't seen her since Christmas and that in and of itself was starting to take a toll on me. She calmed me down most of the time and whenever I had a problem I knew I could go to her about it, but without her near I couldn't very well do that. At the very least, I knew when I went to college I'd get to stay with her and wouldn't have classes all day, every day.

Then again, that did mean I was going to have to be the bartender and the never-ending money supplier for my dickhead of a stepfather and his poker games, but I was willing to sacrifice that.

I would miss Vivian and Grover, who'd been the best friends I'd met away from work. And I'd miss Mr. Brunner and his crazy-but-awesome way of teaching. I'd miss the view my dorm had and the smell of pine that always seemed to be in the air.

Still not gonna stay. I'd rather hold up the sky.

My Vogue shoot went well and the night before my Greek and Roman final, Vivian and I were blasting the Mean Girls soundtrack as loud as we could without getting in trouble with the teachers.

"Ya know, we should probably be studying right now, don't you think?" Vivian asked me after 'Someone Gets Hurt' finished.

"I thought the reason we were listening to Mean Girls was because we didn't want to study," I replied, turning off my speaker. "But you're right. We should probably study, at least a little."

I flopped down on my bed and stretched out across the whole thing in order to grab my backpack.

"Ugh, I think I left my book in Brunner's class. Fuck, I'll be right back," I groaned and forced myself up while Vivian nodded as a reply. I stifled a yawn and made sure I had my key fob before heading in the direction of Mr. Brunner's classroom.

Now this next part, please don't attack me for. I dare you to walk away when you hear one of your best friends talking with an adult about you. I don't normally eavesdrop, but I couldn't help myself.

"I'm worried about Allie, sir," I heard Grover's voice once I was three steps away from the door handle. I froze and debated staying or running. I stayed. "She acts like she saw nothing. It's like she never even killed that Kindly One! And a Kindly One! In the school, right under our noses! She seems too calm for something like this."

"We might make things worse if we rush her. She's sixteen, much older than those her age would make it, an incredible feat, but it makes it more difficult—especially with her. She's got a career of her own, one that is already going to be difficult to hide with everything. She's established in the world. She's going to college next year instead of continuing high school. She'll be graduating on Friday after her final tomorrow and that only means she'll be much less understanding of it all," Mr. Brunner replied.

"But the summer solstice deadline! What if we don't have time?"

"She may not even be involved. Let her enjoy her ignorance while she can."

"But sir, you've seen—!"

"Grover, you haven't failed. She'll be fine, especially since she's made it this far. I worry about her, too, but she will be fine for a few more days. All we must worry about is keeping her alive until next fall—"

My key fob fell from my hand before I could stop it. It shouldn't have made that loud of a noise, but with it being dead silent, it sounded like a gun being fired. My blood pulsed in my ears and I picked the key up and sprinted around the corner of the hall and into a random dark classroom before I could get caught. At that moment, the only thing I could think was about how lucky it was that I forgot to slip some tennis shoes on. My socks had muffled my sprinting.

The sound of horse hooves hitting the ground entered the dead silent hallway and I held my breath. The sound stopped near the door of the classroom was in and I was almost certain I'd gotten caught, but then the sound echoed again, this time moving back in the way it came.

"Nothing," Mr. Brunner muttered somewhere along the hallway. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice."

"Neither have mine, but I could've sworn..." Grover said.

"Get back to your dorm. You still have to take your final tomorrow, so you should get a good night's sleep."

"Ugh, don't remind me."

I was alone again. I waited a few extra minutes just to make sure I wasn't going to get caught before slowly leaving the classroom. I made sure not to make a noise as I closed the door and then booked it down the hallway back to my dorm.

Once I got there I took a moment for myself before I walked in. Vivian looked up at me as I entered.

"Hey, where's your book?" she asked.

"Not sure. It wasn't in Brunner's room, so I probably just left it somewhere," I lied. "Oh well. I think I'm gonna go ahead and go to bed, though. I'll be fine without studying. Plus, I graduate in two days, I want that to get here as quickly as possible," I finished, making sure to keep my voice even in order to make the lie believable. Vivi had always had a difficult time determining whether or not I was lying most of the time, anyway.

"Okay," she replied, taking my words at face value. "'Night."

"'Night, Viv."

***

The next morning my Greek and Roman final went well enough and the next day, graduation went by even faster, though when our names were being called up for our diplomas it felt like I'd be there for another year.

Yancy Academy's graduations didn't allow parents or family to come and watch the ceremony; maybe they knew most of the kids here had rich, busy parents and didn't want a large number of kids to have no one there. It was stupid, in my opinion, but whatever. Our audience was the rest of the school and they filmed the ceremony, just so the parents who cared could have something.

Once the ceremony was over, I went to a few of the people I actually talked to, just to say goodbye to them. Most asked me what I was going to do over the summer and I gave a generic response.

"Uh, probably fly a couple of places. I think I might be going to Bora Bora for a shoot. And I might have to go to California, too. Who knows, really?" Thankfully they'd taken that answer and left me alone.

Grover and Vivian caught me as I was walking away from my Italian teacher, Mrs. R.

"Allie! I'm shocked you made it through this whole year. You weren't technically even a senior, but you still had senioritis," Vivian joked.

I gave her a sad smile. "I'm gonna miss you, Viv," I said and we both shared a hug before she left, "Want me to walk you to the bus stop, G? I have my Harley and my clothes are already at my mom's apartment, so I can't get on there with you. You're going into Manhattan, right?"

"Yeah," Grover confirmed. "Uh... do you mind driving behind my bus? You can take me around Central Park since I've never been."

"I keep forgetting you told me you aren't from New York," I frowned. "I'll stay behind as long as I can."

He didn't like that answer (I knew from his frown) but nodded anyway. As he waited, I ran and grabbed my bike. I had taken my suitcase to my apartment yesterday, so I didn't have to deal with it on graduation day. I only had my Louis Vitton purse keeping an extra change of clothes with me.

My bike rumbled loudly, but it was almost completely drowned out with all the noise coming from New York's traffic. The bus got there soon after I did, and I was relieved to finally get going. At the very least, I'd never have to step foot in another high school (barring any time I'd have to play a high school role, which I blatantly ignored).

I saw Grover sit in the very back of the bus and he smiled at me through the unusually large windows that the bus had. I smiled back and made sure my helmet was completely on before following the bus back to my home city.

I kept noticing Grover would both look down the isles of the bus and then look back at me nervously. I tried not to think anything of it, but a bad feeling settled in my stomach and I was momentarily reminded of Mrs. Dodds.

Suddenly, right before we got to the highway, a loud grinding noise and back smoke came from the Grayhound they were on and the driver immediately pulled over to the side. I stopped right behind it.

Nothing happened for a few seconds and I had pulled my helmet off and walked over to the door. I saw the driver fiddle with something and then turned to announce something to the passengers. They all had gotten up, so I assumed it was something about them needing to get off.

Grover was the last one off and he walked straight over to me. I led him away from the crowd and closer to where my bike was. After a few seconds of silence and a whole lot of nervous glances thrown towards the woods on our right, I got fed up.

"Looking for kindly ones?" I asked him. He practically jumped out of his skin.

"Wha- what do you mean?" Grover managed to stutter out.

I rolled my eyes but confessed to overhearing him and Mr. Brunner talking about me the night before.

"How much did you hear?" he said, and his eye twitched.

I shrugged noncommittally. "Oh... not much. What's the summer solstice deadline?"

Another eye twitch, this one accompanied by a wince. "It's uh... I was just worried about you... and—"

"Grover."

"I just thought you'd been super stressed lately—"

"Grover! You're a really, really bad liar," I said, finally getting him to listen to me.

His ears turned pink. He searched his pockets for a moment before pulling out a card from the front pocket of his flannel. It was a card, written in a cursive script and it took a moment, but I figured out what it said.

Grover Underwood Keeper Half-Blood Hill Long Island, New York (800) 009-0009

"What's Half—"

"Don't say it out loud!" he yelled, drawing some attention and causing people to whisper as if just now realizing I was there.

I saw a little girl, probably around nine, tug on the sleeve of her mother's shirt and not-so-discreetly whisper, "that's Allie Jackson!"

I grimaced and turned my attention back to Grover. "It's my, uh... summer address," he said.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Uh... okay? Why would I need this?"

He blushed. "Look Allie... I've kinda been protecting you this whole school year..." Grover said, and though I could tell he wasn't lying, it didn't make sense. No one wanted to cross me, so I'd stuck up for him this whole school year. How had he been protecting me?

"What exactly have you been protecting me from?" I chose the most logical question. At least I'd know why instead of how. I looked around and I felt like I found my answer before he could tell me.

It was a normal fruit stand on the other side of the road, with three old ladies sitting on the other side of it. They were all knitting something, but whoever it was for had to be much larger than your average person. Grover followed my gaze and gasped.

The fruit actually looked really good, and I was tempted to go over and buy some, but something stopped me from doing so. I was fixated and couldn't really bring myself to move. Grover latched his hand on my arm, his nails digging into my skin.

The three ladies were knitting socks, but they were the size of sweaters, so either they messed up, or I was missing a very important puzzle piece in this 10,000 piece puzzle.

They stared right back at me.

I shifted my gaze and went to make a joke to Grover, but he looked terrified. There was no color in his face, which was weird because Grover was naturally tan.

His nose twitched. "Allie. Come on. Get on the bus now," he said and almost didn't leave me any time to argue.

"Uh, I'll take a hard pass on that one, G."

"They aren't looking at you, are they?" Grover whispered.

"Yeah, they are. Funny, huh? Think they know me?"

"Please don't joke about this, Allie. Come on."

"I'm not going in there!" I opposed. "It's like a thousand degrees. I'd rather not deal with my hair poofing into a tangled, poofy mess!"

I noticed the old lady in the middle had picked up a pair of solid gold scissors. The yarn had shifted, and the light now showed me that the yarn was two different colors; a neutral gray— not too light and not too dark— and a scarlet red, one that was so red it was almost brown. They were twisted together, in a weird, complex way, kind of reminding me of a complicated path in a forest or something.

Grover's breath hitched and he whispered out another 'come on,' and ran to the bus. I found myself fixated again. I was supposed to see this. I think.

They were still watching me. I kept my eyes on the middle one, so I didn't miss a second of her cutting the two pieces of string. I could've sworn I heard the snip across all of the loud traffic. The other two balled up the rest of the string and the middle one held the cut pieces in the air. They weren't connected on one end and the gray piece seemed to be much shorter than the red.

What the hell? I only looked away once Grover pried one of the bus's back doors open. The bus roared back to life at the same time. Feeling shiverish, like I'd just gotten the flu, I pulled my helmet on my head and swung my leg back over the bike.

"What are you not telling me," I demanded once Grover opened the back window and stuck his head out of it.

"What did you see?" He asked.

"The middle one took out her scissors and snipped both pieces of string. What are you not telling me?"

But the bus was starting and would be leaving soon, so I asked a better question.

"Does this mean someone's going to die?" I asked, but he couldn't answer as the bus started going again and I had no choice but to follow behind.

"Stay at the bus stop. Don't leave once the bus stops. Please," Grover pleaded. He started whispering to himself and then closed the back window.

The last look he gave me was one that looked like he was picking out the flowers I'd like best on my grave. They'd be roses and sunflowers.

* * *

previous | next

SERIES M.LIST | MAIN M.LIST | TIPS

#asaeato #a story as endless as the ocean #alliejackson #lukecastellan #lullie #trinitymia #female percy jackson

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justsome-di · 2 years ago

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Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 6

okay hi this is my fav chapter in this whole story eve is literally the best character in this whole novel

Summary: Alex, a secretary, and Damián, a sex worker, are set up on a “date” as an awful prank by Alex’s co-workers. They plan their revenge through a fake dating scheme with a big finale at Alex’s office’s Halloween party. But, this is a romance novel, so you know things don’t go that smoothly.

You can also read this on AO3, Wattpad, or Patreon (patrons also get chapters a week early along with bonus content).

In hindsight, Eve shouldn’t have checked her grades at work. It didn’t make a difference that she was on her break and sat in the empty staff room. She should have checked at home where she could lock herself in the bathroom while Alex quietly hovered outside the door, texting their mother that he feared Eve was hysterical.

She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath.

54%

How could she have scored so low? She had tried so hard. She had studied for an entire week for the midterm. There had to be a mistake. Some glitch in the student portal. Maybe her professor mistyped or did the math wrong.

Eve refreshed the page and then refreshed it again.

The number under her cracked phone screen didn’t change. 54% stayed there in devilish red, letting her know she had failed.

There was no way she was going to pass the class now. She was going to have to repeat it, and then she would be behind. She couldn’t take calc II until she passed calc I. If she didn’t get into calc II that next semester, she would have to shuffle her schedule around to try to find an empty slot for it later. She would have to miss another class for her major or convince the registrar to let her overload her credit hours. There wasn’t that much wiggle room in her academic plan. There wasn’t padding built in for her to fail courses over and over.

If she couldn’t get her shit together, she would need to stay in college an extra semester. She would have to pay for an extra semester. She would have to take out more loans. And it would all mean more time squatting in Alex’s apartment and working a shitty retail gig.

Eve wiped away a few tears.

“Fuck.”

She pressed her fist into her forehead. She had to pull herself together. She had a book club meeting to host. She could hold it all in until she was home and in the bathroom.

Eve grabbed her copy of Sometime Next Year. She took another deep breath and stepped out of the staff room. She could pull herself together for an hour.

Upstairs, between the books on Wicca and biographies, club members were already gathering in their small circle of metal chairs. They creaked and squeaked and moaned as they got pushed around the hardwood floor.

Eve poured a cup of coffee for herself at their little snack table. It was shitty coffee, but it was all her manager could get with their budget. Shitty coffee and shitty cookies.

“Good eve-ning, Eve. Does anyone else make that joke?”

And then there was Damián.

Eve turned around to see him, grinning at his own joke as if it were the first time he ever had ever told it.

“Only you,” she said. “Every month for over a year.”

Damián was nice. She liked him. He was the type of guy who got along with everyone, and he was kind to her despite her lingering teenage angst.

He was also incredibly perceptive. Standing at the snack table, he frowned at her. He noticed her watery eyes and the slight hoarseness to her voice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

But her voice totally cracked, giving away the fact that something was wrong. Damián curled forward, bending to look at her down-turned face. It made her feel worse, seeing his sympathetic face, mirroring her worry.

“Come on,” he said. “Come with me.”

She left her coffee and book behind. Damián gently took her elbow and led her back down the stairs and out the front door. Every step she took, her composure slipped further until she was crying into the sleeve of her cardigan. It was deeply embarrassing. Mortifying. She tried shielding her face so the customers and her co-workers floating around couldn’t see her getting more and more worked up.

They stood outside the bookstore. Her sweater wasn’t thick enough to keep her warm, but the way the cold wind hit her calmed her a little. It brought her back to the present, and she was aware of where she was. On the stoop of her bookstore, in the final stretch of her shift, with Damián keeping a mindful distance but still there. She took a shuddering breath in.

“What happened?” Damián asked.

“I failed a midterm,” she cried.

“Aww. That’s it?”

“What do you mean ‘that’s it?’ I failed a midterm.”

“I thought someone had died.”

“I failed a midterm.”

She would keep repeating it until Damián understood the gravity of the situation. It was the worst day of her life in a long time. All of her plans were crumbling around her.

There were internships she was hoping for, gone. No one would hire her if she wasn’t keeping up with her schoolwork. No one would want her if she couldn’t pass her very first calculus class. And she would continue spiraling down her path of mediocrity.

“That’s not the end of the world,” Damián said. “Have you asked your professor if you can re-take it?”

Eve sniffed. She wished she had a tissue. “I can do that?”

“Maybe. If you’re polite enough, and if they’re understanding.”

She didn’t know she could re-take midterms. She assumed college was strict with hard deadlines and little leeway. She had gone through a whole school year thinking so.

“Just say you want a second chance,” Damián said. “The worst they can say is no.”

“But if he says no, I won’t be able to make it up. I’ll fail the class.”

“That’ll be okay, too. Eve, it’s okay if you fail one class. People fail classes all the time and still come out okay.”

Eve pulled her sweater sleeves over her thumbs and rubbed at the underside of her eyes. Thankfully, she knew, her black eyeliner wouldn’t stain her black cardigan in a noticeable way.

She tried convincing herself that Damián had a point, that he was right. After all, he was one of the smartest people she knew. She didn’t know what he did now, but he had once let it slip that he had aspirations to be a doctor and that he had been pre-med in college. And she had assumed that he had to be smart to be pre-med.

“Don’t panic yet,” Damián said.

“When do I get to start panicking?”

Damián crossed his arms and tilted his head up. “If you’re still in college in ten years, and you’re still not passing this one class. You can panic then.”

Eve wiped the remaining tears on her cheeks away. “I’ll set an alarm.”

Damián smiled. His teeth were always a little too white. A little over-bleached. But it was one of those things that made him him. If he suddenly cut down on his whitening strip habit, Eve wouldn’t be able to recognize him. And then she’d think he was going through some awful, soul-crushing personality crisis.

Damián gave off the air of someone who was always very confident in the exact way that he was, the way he intentionally made himself. And it radiated off of him, making Eve think that maybe she could be intentionally herself, too, and love that version of her.

“Send an email to your professor in the morning,” Damián said. “I’m sure he’ll work with you. That’s his job.”

Her professor wasn’t an evil man. Damián was right. He would probably find a way to help her. She trusted Damián, at least, to give her good advice.

“And,” Damián said, “maybe ask someone if you can get a tutor? Doesn’t your school have student tutors?”

“They do, but I never get off work in time to schedule appointments with them.”

“Well, what if you ask your professor if he knows someone who can stay late? I’m sure they want you to pass their class. There’s no harm in asking. The worst he can do is help you find other resources.”

It sounded reasonable. She didn’t know how many math tutors would be willing to stay late to tutor only her or tutor on weekends when they probably had other plans, but she would ask.

“Okay,” she said.

“Did I help any?”

“You did.”

“Ready to go back in?”

Eve nodded.

Damián opened the door for her with a comment about how it was chilly and she should get back inside before she froze to death. They went back upstairs, Eve sheepishly took her book and now-cold coffee from the snack table.

Everyone had settled into the circle.

These were her people. Her wonderful queers. Their presence alone was like a balm. Their company always made her feel a little bit better.

It was a widely diverse group. She was the youngest member, the only teenager.

There was an older couple—maybe somewhere in their 60s—who came in every so often.

There was a young trans man who was finally back after recovering from top surgery.

An Appalachian woman who had only been living in the city for a few months.

And a single mother who was straight and cisgender but who had a gay teenage son who she really wanted to support and understand.

Eve sat in her usual seat, right by the new Oscar Wilde display. It was coming up on his birthday month, and Eve was proud of her little monument to him. She had pulled all of his plays that they had and a good assortment of biographies. And, of course, The Picture of Dorian Gray stood at the top of the pyramid shelf.

Damián sat next to her, like he usually did. Eve leaned in close to him.

“I didn’t get to finish the book,” she whispered.

“During midterms? No one can blame you.”

Her chair squeaked when she sat back into it. Damián’s squeaked when he crossed his legs.

There were a dozen or so more squeaks before everyone was settled. Eve hoped that her eyes weren’t red and puffy and began the meeting. She gave some vague historical context, though almost everyone else in the room was alive in the 90s when the book was set and definitely knew it better than her, and offered some personal insight.

It was how some podcaster started episodes of a series Eve half-heartedly listened to every few months. It had sounded smart when she first heard it, so she copied it in hopes it made her sound older and wiser. Every month, she scribbled notes on loose paper. That month, her notes were on the back of a receipt to a Chinese restaurant.

Quickly, Eve passed the conversation on to the rest of the group. Damián picked it up, prefacing everything with his love for messy lesbian romances but how dissapointed he was in the lack of happy endings for lesbians in books.

Eve learned that the book had ended with the main characters parting ways, agreeing that they were better off without each other. There had been little character development and everyone was stuck with new problems. All that was promised at the end of the book was that things might start to look better “sometime next year.”

“Gay men are starting to get happy endings, kinda, but we’re leaving lesbians behind,” Damián said. “All this talk about how representation is getting better, but it feels like it’s always focused around gay men. Sometimes you get happy lesbians, but how often are they side characters that don’t do all that much? Or are just there to support a male character? It’s unfair.

“It’s this gross cross-section of bury your gays and misogyny. Even lesbian writers can’t see themselves as having a happy ending when they’re the main character—and maybe that’s cathartic And. I don’t think the author was saying lesbians don’t deserve happy endings but just that that’s what happens sometimes. But still, I don’t want lesbians in real life thinking that they’re doomed for failed relationships. There’s so much potential for good things.”

“I think suffering is inherent with being gay, though,” Eve said.

“I don’t agree with that,” Damián said, quickly, a little stern. “You don’t have to suffer. You can be happy and gay. I’m happy and gay. And if we believe that we’re supposed to be unhappy, then we’re just giving in to what homophobes want. We lose our fight.”

Eve couldn’t argue any further even if she didn’t totally agree. Damián was older, and she respected that. Alex had told her once that when an older queer talked to her, she should listen. She didn’t know how old he meant. She didn’t even know how old Damián was. Come to think of it, Alex was offended when she asked if he counted as an older queer. Maybe he meant really old. Older than 30. Damián couldn’t have been older than 30.

Alex had been offended by being called old, but he composed and corrected himself. He told her to just listen to him. Aging was different for people like them. And Eve knew what he meant when his voice wavered over those words. People like them.

It was different. Alex told her that if she were his age, she would see what he saw. A child growing up in the 90s, right as the epidemic was ending, right as things were starting to settle and right themselves, Alex was a child of the rubble. He had been so certain of who he was at a young age, but it was like standing in the aftermath of a bomb.

She was lucky, he said. She was born during better times. He was happy for her. He was thankful for it. But he seemed to assume that Eve was living without any guilt and less grief when really, she was living with just slightly different types.

They had had an uncle Eve never met. Alex only had the faintest of memories of sitting on his frail lap, his own baby-fat-padded legs pressed into his boney knees. He told Eve every detail about him that he could remember. His thin cheeks. His sparse beard. From pictures the family had in old photo albums, Eve could see him as a younger man with the same round face Alex had and thick, sandy hair.

Their mother could talk about him for hours with a wide smile and sad eyes. She told Eve all about how they got in trouble together, kept secrets from their parents. Their age difference was just about the same as Eve and Alex.

Their uncle Cole was always timeless and ageless. He was either a small child or a sick, adult man. Eve had asked once how old he was when he had died. Her mother was tense. Her hands gripped a dishrag tight. 35, she said. He died a few weeks after turning 35.

Funny enough, their family never used the A-word. They skirted around it as though if anyone were to mention it by name, it would come back to them.

So, Alex told her, it was important to listen to whatever older queer person she came across. And she was certain that he didn’t mean himself. Or even Damián.

But regardless, Damián had helped her with her school dilemma, so she thought she owed it to him to bite her tongue while he talked.

“I just think we deserve to know we can be happy while still acknowledging our shared traumas and grief,” Damián said. “But I still really love a messy romance. I live for that drama.”

The meeting went on, lesbians in the small circle chirping up with how they felt seen regardless of the ending. Damián listened to them with thoughtful eyes and a slight tilt to his head, nodding along every so often and smiling with them. Eve tried copying him, tried looking like she was really taking in their points and observations.

But she was stuck on Damián’s words. If there was a way to balance happiness and trauma, she hadn’t found it yet. She used to burn up inside with her own misery, but it had turned into acceptance. She thought that if she were meant to be happy, it would have happened already. There would have been some sign that everything was going to look up for her. If Damián was right, if suffering wasn’t inherent to her identity, then she would have to go through the process of realizing that her reclusiveness, her loneliness, her confusion wasn’t part of a shared experience but rather just her.

If she deserved a happy ending, surely she should have been deserving of a happy middle.

#nobody ends up dead #writeblr #writblr #queer fiction #lgbt fiction #writing #original writing #mlm #gay #queer #wlw #lesbian #gay fiction #gay romance #queer romance

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myloveforhergoeson · 2 years ago

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That's All She Wrote - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 • 2 • 3 • 4

Find me on wattpad + ao3

Show: Big Time Rush

Pairing: Jams Diamond x Original Female Character

Chapter 5: Just the Girl (1.5)

In the small amount of time between the end of school and the beginning of work, Roxy and Big Time Rush could often be found by the famous Palm Woods pool to soak in some sweet Los Angeles sun. While the girl typically used the time to either relax or get some homework out of the way, the guys were mostly focused on picking up girls - despite not being famous yet.

Finally outside after a long morning of learning, the five picked their usual lounge chairs and began their normal activities. Roxy laid out her schoolwork and supplies at the end of the lounge chair line, carefully pulling her skirt a bit higher up her thigh to help avoid getting any strange tan lines. Next to her, Carlos let out a joke wolf whistle as he set up his area and switched his black helmet out for a pair of blue sunglasses.

“What time is it?” Kendall asked, pulling on his shades.

“It’s girl time!” The other three answered as they scanned the pool for any potential targets.

How they think they can win girls in board shorts and t-shirts is unfathomable.

After their little call-and-response schtick, the boys stood up, and the Jennifer’s appeared on the other side of the pool, walking in slow motion toward the group. Each of them were dressed in a cute pool outfit, making sure to show off all their best features. Even their matching hats bounced in sync as the trio made their way to the tables near the café.

The band reached their hands out in greeting, but the three girls didn’t even let them get a word in as they continued to walk by.

“Talk to us when you get in the top ten…” Brown-haired Jennifer started, hand up in a “stop” motion.

“But not before,” Curly-haired Jennifer finished as they kept on walking.

The boy’s deflated attitudes didn’t last for long as Camille, dressed in the cheerleader’s uniform Roxy had given her a few days ago, appeared at Kendall’s side. True to form, she gave the blond a tremendous slap across the face and began to monologue.

Her face was scrunched in anger, “How could you? With my mom in the hospital and my huge fight with my best friend, and my zit?”

It was clear she was expecting some sort of reaction from any of the five, based on how she pointed to her made-up zit and paused after her dramatic one-liner.

“Hey, Camille!” Roxy called from the chair behind where her friends were standing, deciding against trying to do her pre-calc homework for now. Everything going on around her was far more interesting than a few math problems. “Degrassi audition?”

The rage she displayed seconds ago faded into a big smile, “Wish me luck!”

Raising her hand, she slapped Kendall one more time for good measure before heading back to the lobby of the hotel.

As they watched her leave, Carlos spotted some more ladies to try and place the moves on.

Oh, this’ll be good.

“Simms twins!” Carlos cheered, pointing in the girls’ direction.

Heading toward the cabanas at the back of the pool, the beautiful women made their way down the stretch of concrete in their adorable matching outfits.

Quickly, James pushed his friend’s hand back before the twins took notice. Even the mega-flirt could recognize when his chances were low.

“Too risky!” He hissed, “You know they get pretty upset if you get their names wrong.”

A completely understandable fact from the assistant’s point of view.

There was one issue with Carlos, however, his impulsive nature never let him think before he opened his mouth; he normally picked whichever of their names popped into his head first without attempting to learn their correct ones. As his friend had cautioned, the girls hated when their names were mixed up and were not afraid to let that person know it.

Ignoring the long-haired boy’s warning, Carlos stepped into the path of the sisters just as they passed in front of their lounge chairs.

“Hello, ladies.”

Mandy and Sandy both took off their sunglasses and stared the boy down - one set of eyes was intimidating enough, but two… He was in for disaster.

As per usual, before conversing with anyone, one of the twins asked the same simple question.

“What’s my name?” Sandy inquired.

Roxy would’ve been able to enjoy Carlos’ face contort from suave to scared if his glasses didn’t obscure his eyes. Clearly, he had not thought this through even with James’ warning.

“Uh…” His finger pointed back and forth between the two before he took a shot in the dark. “Mandy?”

Wrong choice. The boy was alerted of this when the girls let out a pair of twin growls and reached out, balling his shirt in their fists. With all their might, they managed to pull him completely off balance and throw him into the pool.

An incredible display of determination and strength was inspiring, but the songwriter was mostly focusing on doing her best to block her papers from any stray droplets as they splashed up from Carlos’ impact.

Satisfied, the twins strutted off and took shelter in the green canopies of the cabana at the edge of the pool.

“Can you please go one day without soaking my homework?” Roxy sighed, complaining openly to all her friends. After a few days of trial and error, it was getting a bit frustrating to watch her friends try to pick up the same uninterested girls. “Also, Sandy always walks to the left of her sister. It’s not that hard to remember.”

The three on land rolled their eyes at her comments as they flopped back down into their chairs after two crushing defeats in a row.

Thank god those four don’t treat me like that.

Taking Carlos’ empty seat to Roxy’s right, James turned to her. “Only nerds do their homework directly after class, you know?”

“Maybe if I wasn’t so busy constantly cleaning up your messes I’d have time to do it after work. Oh, wait,” She held her finger up to her cheek in fake thought. “That’s never happened.”

Dejected, Kendall took his sunglasses off and admired the expanse of the pool. “Stop it, you two. You’re ruining the moment.”

“He started it.”

“Did not!”

With a humph, she waved the antagonist off and dove back into her notes.

There was peace for only a few more seconds before Kendall sighed. “Why can’t there be a nice, sweet, nice girl at the Palm Woods?”

The five lived at a world-famous hotel with countless teen wannabes checking in and out daily. Safe to say there were plenty of nice, sweet, nice girls at their residence, they just never bothered to pick anyone willing to give them the time of day.

“Somebody not crazy or stuck-up, that’s still really hot.” James added, affirming his friend’s thoughts.

Besides Camille and I… Good luck.

Logan continued, adding onto their collective chain of thought, “From… North Carolina.”

Just as Carlos finally swam up to the edge of the pool, the voice of hotel manager Mr. Bitters scratched their ears as he made his way through the double doors from the lobby and out to the pool area.

“Well, it’s not North Carolina.” The five of them turned heads. “But I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay here. Let me show you your apartment.”

As he passed by, a young, blonde woman stood in the doorway admiring the scene before her. The look on her face was full of wonder as her eyes darted left and right, committing the pool area to memory; it reminded Roxy of her first day in Hollywood and all the magic that came with it.

In her arms, the newcomer held the straps of two bags which were slung over her fashionable green shawl and white dress. By her outward appearance, it seemed as though she was the same age as the songwriter. Which, by extension, made the beautiful girl the band’s age.

How the boys had manifested this new girl, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t about to challenge their good luck. Besides Camille, she was a little lacking in the girlfriend department. If dating in L.A. was as hard as the guys made it look, she could only imagine the treachery of friendship; she had really lucked out meeting the eccentric actress. But, neither she nor the new girl had been tainted by the town quite yet. Maybe she was a singer or a songwriter too, the possibilities were endless.

All Roxy knew was that she wanted to get to know this North Carolina newcomer as best she could.

After a few more glances around the area, the blonde turned to follow Bitters, facing the four teens on the lounge chairs with a dazzling smile. James, Kendall, and Logan immediately shot up and lined her path, puffing their chests out and attempting to act nonchalant about her sudden arrival.

Roxy was the first to speak as she made her way past them, “Hey.”

“Hi,” was all the new girl said with a wave as she continued to walk after the hotel manager.

Each boy merely followed her with their eyes, not daring to say anything. The only one to make a move was Carlos as he pulled himself out of his staring stupor, and out of the pool. After a few moments, the silence persisted until at once they all at once declared, “She’s mine!”

Watching on, all the writer could do was laugh as they toppled over each other, trying to pull the boy in front to the back as they trailed after her.

Poor new girl.

***

There was only one topic discussed on the way to Rocque Records: the new girl. Each of the boys had a grand plan to win her heart, but the only one who was bothering Roxy at the moment was James - he released an entire can of his ‘Cuda spray in the backseat. The body spray was the choice for many young men in Hollywood and being surrounded by some of Hollywood’s finest at the Palm Woods school, she was no stranger to the sharp smell as it filled her nose. So, for once, when they reached the recording studio she was terrified to get to work - who knew what that stuff would smell like in the close quarters of their small recording rooms.

Reaching the studio, she dutifully began to set up the recording equipment without her boss even asking, when she noticed a large man in a black suit in the corner of the room. She waved, and he waved back. Maybe their producer had hired a bodyguard? Regardless, she continued her work as the boys lined up in front of Gustavo and Kelly once they entered the room.

“Today, we are gonna sing a love song.”

Nice, I can’t wait to hear this ‘90s period piece. She thought, truly meaning it. On their first day in Hollywood he had offered the boys a love song they never ended up recording, so maybe he was ready to get that recorded and mixed for the EP. Though the boys didn’t care for that song, much preferring their assistant’s “Big Time Rush”, all boy bands needed a slow love song on their first album.

As he continued, Kelly began to hand out the sheet music to the band.

“It’s a slow song about love.”

When the talent scout fell in line with Gustavo, Roxy fell in line with the boys - wondering why she hadn’t been given any sheets herself.

Kelly was the next to go. “The record company wants one of your demo songs to be a ballad.”

Of course it was Griffin’s idea. He seems like a ballad kinda guy.

The songwriter’s scoff was drowned out as Kendall pointed out the elephant in the room. “Does anybody else notice the huge guy in the corner?”

Each teen mumbled in confirmation.

“That is Freight Train,” Gustavo introduced, not even batting an eye. “My new executive in charge of making people do what I say.”

In accordance with the boss’s words, Freight Train turned to the bright red section of wall beside him and sent a right hook directly through to show he wasn’t messing around. Instinctively, everyone took a step back.

“Now,” He continued. “This is a song about when you see a girl for the first time and you know she’s the one. Do you guys know what I’m talking about?”

The band raised their hands to their chins, lost in thought.

What do they even think about when they do that?

“She’s mine!” James cried suddenly and the fighting that had taken so long to dispel over the new girl began once more.

Band members drove into other band members, unleashing a storm of elbows, fists, and knees upon one another. With each smack, Roxy wished to leave and record her guitar parts - which she’d know she’d have if someone handed her the sheet music - more and more.

From the corner, Freight Train began to step out of his small space and marched right up to the band. Reaching both hands out, he took James and Carlos by the backs of their shirts and hoisted them clear into the air. Their shocked screams led the man to throw them back down onto the wood flooring of the studio a few feet away from Kendall and Logan.

“That was kinda fun!” Carlos giggled, unphased by his rough impact.

Rolling his eyes, Gustavo ignored him and sniffed the air a few times, “What is that smell?”

“It’s Barracuda Man Spray!” James exclaimed, pulling out a bottle of the substance. “We’re in love with a girl at the Palm Woods, and this is my edge.”

Love?

He sprayed the mist directly into his face, the sharp, tropical, smell filling up the room.

“Any girl who smells too much of that is running in the opposite direction,” Roxy mumbled.

The tall boy turned around, “You didn’t run away earlier.”

“We were in a moving vehicle.”

Kendall placed a hand on her shoulder but ignored her comment, pointing a finger out to James. “You need an edge?”

“You always get the girl!” Agreed Carlos.

Stepping forward, Logan waved his hands in the air, “Yeah! Give us a chance for once!”

Stepping in front of her four friends, the writer crossed her arms, “How about you give her a chance to decide for herself?”

“She will be mine!” The ‘Cuda wearer shrieked again, his assistant’s words meaning nothing to him, as if he hadn’t said it a million other times that morning.

The frontman gripped his sheet music so hard it audibly crinkled, “No, she’s not.”

Once more, the four launched themselves at each other.

“Dawgs! Booth! Now!” Gustavo commanded and when no one moved at his words, Freight Train demonstrated more of his job’s description.

With much force, each of the boys were shoved into the recording booth by the large man. Though they protested, the band was no match for Freight Train’s natural strength.

Kelly, Gustavo, and Roxy exited out into the hallway from the studio and into the recording room to get everything set up for the boys to track their vocals.

“Hey, Kelly,” Roxy called, opening the recording room door. “What song are we recording today?”

The woman shuffled through the papers in her ledger, following after. “I’m not too sure, Gustavo just had me make the copies. Something, something, guy?”

The man brought his fingers to his lips as he tugged on a pair of headphones, signaling the need for silence as he started the recording tape. Following his lead, the two women pulled on a set as well, excited to hear the new BTR ballad.

“Start from the chorus.” Their boss demanded.

Once a few seconds had gone by, Kendall held up his sheet to sight-read off of and counted the band down.

“Any kind of guy you want, girl, that’s the guy I’ll be.”

In a flash, Roxy pulled her headphones off - good timing as well, James had let out a large sneeze that ended up startling Gustavo and Kelly due to the sheer volume of it through their headphones.

The sneeze was the least of her worries, considering that was a song she was familiar with. A song that she had written, not Gustavo, and hadn’t shared with anyone else.

Where did that sneaky-

On the soundboard in front of her, she spied her black leather songbook, somewhere she definitely hadn’t left it. Trying to retrace her steps from the last time she had written in her book, her blood boiled at the thought of her boss going through her private journal. To her, it was far more than a songbook; it was a diary where she could document things happening day to day in her life, a place to record her personal, private feelings free of judgment. With one stolen song, Gustavo had taken all of that away from her.

Interruption aside, the boys kept on singing. Though there was no sound for her to follow, she didn’t have to read their lips to know exactly what the next words were.

James sneezed again and the recording stopped. Gustavo took off his headphones. Roxy exploded.

“Wow! What an incredible song you’ve written, Gustavo. It must’ve been hard figuring out all the lyrics and harmonies all by yourself. Not to mention the melody…” Stepping forward she swiped her journal out from in front of him and flipped to the last page covered in writing. Pointing to the guitar chords she had penned, she turned it back around to shove the book in his face. “Were my notes too hard to read? Let me help you out: This. Is. Not. A. Ballad. Oh, and this is my song!”

The producer didn’t even respond to her before he turned around, pressing the mic button for the booth, “This is a song about love, not sneezing!”

Roxy turned to Kelly who had heard every word of her declaration, hoping the woman could do something about her current predicament. Taking in the information, she blinked, facing the young girl and her employer. “Um, we have bigger matters to discuss, Gustavo. But…Uh… the pollen count is really high today.”

“Roxanne!” He called as if she wasn’t sitting right next to him, quietly seething. “Get him to a doctor and fix him. While I fix the song because it’s horrible.”

“It’s not horrible!” The writer gasped, trying her best not to take his words to heart. “And no, I’m not doing anything you say until you give me my song back. I wasn’t even done with it!”

The songwriter was so frustrated she could hardly think straight. First, he went through her private journal, then he ordered her around, and to top it all off he called her song horrible. Why was he being so awful today?

Once again, her comments fell on deaf ears.

“Roxanne,” He said again. “Get James to a doctor and Freight Train, take the dawgs home.”

“My song isn’t horrible!” She said again, voice elevating with every word, watching through the window as Freight Train and Kelly opened the doors. “Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass long enough to let me complete it or even played it the way I wrote it-”

“That’s enough! Not another word or you’re fired!”

All movement ceased.

The two songwriters stared at each other, Roxy clutching her songbook closer to her chest to find any semblance of comfort as she felt her body shake with anger. His words replayed in her mind a few times and her stomach turned with each one, the nausea overwhelming. Did she deserve it? Sure. Maybe she shouldn’t have spoken to one of the biggest producers in Hollywood like that, but maybe he shouldn’t have stolen her song. There were only so many times Gustavo could threaten to fire his newest employees before he actually did it and as much as she did not want to tolerate this abuse, she didn’t want to board a plane straight back to Minnesota either.

All of her fellow employees stared down at her as she weighed the choices of defending herself once more. In truth, she didn’t think her boss was actually a monster and she had only gone and made the situation worse for herself. Regardless, as of now, if she fought back she would be out of a job and holding a one-way ticket halfway across the country. Time to suck it up.

Wordlessly, she marched out of the sound room and into the recording booth. As she made a beeline to James, squeezing past the other three boys, he knew that she was going to fulfill their boss' wishes.

“No, I don’t want to go to the doctor!”

His cries didn’t change her mind. Reaching up, she pulled the headphones off of his ears and let the object clatter to the ground. Jerking her head towards the door, she gave him the option to walk out himself; when he cowered towards the back of the booth she sighed. Once more, she gave him the option to leave by pointing towards the door and when he stayed in place she reached out and grabbed the chunky necklace dangling around his neck.

A smile crossed his lips, “Hey, normally I wouldn’t object to this but-”

Giving it a rough tug, she shut him up and pulled him out of the booth into the hallway. As they stumbled along, there were more cries of protest and a few more sneezes from the boy before she was able to successfully shove him into the elevator. Pushing the button for the lobby caused the doors to shut with a ding and the two began their descent. More than once she had to swat his hands away from the control panel to choose a different floor to stop at.

“It’s just the doctor, stop being so juvenile!” The girl spat

His brows furrowed. “Gustavo said you aren’t allowed to talk.”

“Ugh!” She groaned. “Don’t even remind me about that… He stole my song! Just… took it. Didn’t even ask. I’m going to wring his neck I swear-”

“Chill, chill!” James raised his hands in a defensive position. “Take a few deep breaths. Achoo!”

Though she doubted it would work, she did as he suggested. Not at all successful in calming her down, but it was nice to take just a moment and focus on something besides the soul-sucking Hollywood machine attempting to ruin her future career.

Another sneeze from James erupted as the elevator doors opened and the pair walked out through the pristine lobby of the Rocque Records building.

“Do I have to drag you again?” Roxy questioned, looking over to her friend as they stopped in the plaza outside the building. “Please don’t make this hard day harder.”

The boy shook his head and gently held out his arm. “I’d prefer not to be dragged as well, but if you’d like something to hold on to…” His other hand swept over his bicep. “This will do nicely.”

“If it makes the trip faster…”

***

As per the orientation packet given to the group on their first day of employment at Rocque Records, their health insurance was accepted by a man by the name of Doctor Hollywood who had an office within walking distance from the studio. Despite his funny name, the walls of the office waiting room were covered with various medical degrees and signed pictures of famous, satisfied clients so who was she to argue with the benefit?

When the assistant name-dropped Rocque Records at the front desk, the attractive male secretary promised to “clear the doctor’s schedule” and the two were shown into the exam room moments later. Speedy service was much appreciated, especially when she had more important things to do than take James to the doctor - like determining the best way to destroy Gustavo.

James sat on the examination table while Roxy leaned on the cold, metal chair beside it.

Buzz.

A text from Logan popped up on her phone’s home screen - a picture of her and Camille out by the pool they had taken a few days ago.

L: Borrowing one of your Seventeens, hope it’s cool.

L: BTW, would you say girls are more into bad boys or British guys? Asking for a friend.

R: I just bought that mag :( Take one of my pop tigers instead

R: If you’re planning on talking to the new girl with a british accent, good luck

R: Don’t scare her off! I need more friends

L: Tell that to Carlos.

After a few more minutes of waiting, a tall, alluring man walked into the room with a name tag presenting ‘Dr. Hollywood’. Despite the fact they were indoors, he wore sunglasses that famed his goateed face and matched his dark hair nicely. Not even introducing himself or taking a look at James, Doc Hollywood made his way over to a cabinet full of liquids on the opposite side of the room from the teens and began to mix a handful together in a small glass.

“Now, this should make it all better.” He explained, turning to the pair and taking it like a shot before throwing the glass cup behind him. Though the other two flinched when it hit the back wall and completely shattered, the doctor continued as if nothing were the matter. “Okay, what seems to be the problem?”

“The problem is that I’m here when I need to be at the Palm Woods impressing the girl of my dreams!” Rushed James, trying to get his diagnosis and leave as soon as possible.

Girl of his dreams? Maybe I should tell that to the picture of Aubrey Stewart in his room.

The doctor, not recognizing James’ actual medical issue as the boy sneezed a few times into his arm, dove right into his decision, “It sounds serious. I’m prescribing one dose of black bolero jacket and 100 ccs of tight pants.”

Tearing off the prescription, he handed it to Roxy despite her tightly crossed arms. It was clear the boy was satisfied with this diagnosis when she obviously wasn’t.

“Awesome!” James cheered before sneezing again attempting to hop off the examination table before his assistant reached an arm out to stop him.

“This isn’t the ‘80s,” The girl scoffed. “Neither of those things will help you win a girl’s heart. Besides, we’re here about James’ allergy. He needs to stop sneezing so he can sing my new song. Any help, Doctor?”

Batting her eyes in the physician's direction a few times to drive in her point, she handed the prescription paper back to the man in front of her before leaning back onto the examination table beside her friend.

Hollywood stroked his chin, blurting out a new idea without even examining his patient, “It sounds like Rosanne Barr syndrome: The irreversible deterioration of the glands resulting in pain so severe, it can only be relieved by the sweet mercy of death.”

Roxy jumped as James yelped and wrapped his arms around her torso at the man’s words, burying his head into her shoulder.

“Um. I don’t think that’s a real condition.” It was surprisingly hard for her to articulate her thoughts when James squeezed her a bit tighter. “Are you sure it’s not just some kind of allergen?”

“An allergen!” Doc called back with a snap of his fingers. “Like pollen.”

The boy loosened his hold on her after the more positive prognosis.

“James?” Doc asked, turning his back to the pair and rifling through the cabinets again. “Are you afraid of receiving giant shots?”

In fairness, the needle wasn’t even that big, but at the prospect of getting a shot the singer shrieked and pushed himself off of the table in an attempt to get away. Gingerly, he grabbed onto his assistant’s hand before dragging her out of the room and into the office lobby with him. Rushing through the massive crowd of people inside the building, James pushed everyone out of his way and Roxy blurted out many hurried ‘Sorry’s to everyone he encountered.

“Gotta get out, gotta get out,” He kept muttering as he pulled her through the doors of the office and out onto the street.

If he can’t sing, maybe it isn’t the worst thing in the world.

As he pulled her along the streets of Hollywood, they ran by a street vendor selling some delicious-smelling crepes and into an alleyway that was slightly hidden from the main street view. Only when James was sure they weren’t being followed he slowed down at the end of the alley. While she wasn’t thrilled about the dead-end, it was a big city crawling with all kinds of people; she conceded to the boy’s plan of hiding out so she could postpone the production of her song a bit longer.

Though he was nearly out of breath, the boy offered a small, “Sorry for dragging you the entire way.”

“It’s fine.” Roxy decided, equally, if not more, out of breath. “But, I’m gonna need you to buy me one of those crepes in exchange for not calling Kelly.”

Really hoping he wouldn’t call her bluff, it took him a second to process her statement.

James sneezed before scoffing, “Aren’t you the one with the company credit card?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean anything if the purchase isn’t big enough to leave a dent.” She thought for a moment. “Wait, how far away are we from Rodeo Drive?”

“I definitely don’t have enough for Rodeo, Songbird.”

“No I didn’t mean-” The words James had spoken finally registered. “Wait, what did you just call me?”

He blinked, “Well you asked me to buy you food and you want to go on a shopping spree… This is a date right?”

What?

The writer shook her head, thinking she misheard him but his silence proved that he expected an answer.

“You just dragged me out of the doctor's office after I nearly got fired from my dream job and you think I want to go on a date?”

“I really need you to answer soon because the only thing keeping me from running back to the Palm Woods and taking a shot at the new girl is the chance of going out with you.”

God! She thought, weighing her options. What is so great about this new girl?

Outlook on this was not great, either she wasted time with James on his proposed date or she wasted time with James chasing him all the way back to the hotel. Either way, Gustavo was going to yell at her - she might as well hit him where it hurts. While she wasn’t sure how much money she would make when the band released one of her songs, right now the plan was to spend enough of Rocque Records’ cash to more than make up for what Gustavo had stolen for her.

She grabbed his hand and sighed, “Buy me the crepe and let me check if a car service is available to take us shopping.”

“Yes!” James hissed, not even trying to contain his excitement as he pumped his fist. The sound of his voice echoed in the alley around them. “Come on!”

The dragging from before was replaced with a good-hearted tug and a sparkling smile as the two set off for the stand they had passed before. But, unlike before the line had grown to be quite a good size, meaning a longer wait for their treat.

“Okay, looks like they have a traditional crepe base but you get to customize it with different fillings,” James explained, easily peering over the crowd ahead of them. “I didn’t know you liked sweet things, Sweething.”

Buzz.

The girl ignored her phone chime as she rolled her eyes, “You and the guys have raided my fridge enough times to know that about me.”

What is it with him and nicknames? Does he already have some for the new girl? Blondie? Carolina Cutie? Ugh.

A group at the front of the line had received their dessert, allowing the rest of the people behind them to walk forward a bit along the busy street. James’ stride was much longer than hers so he was slightly ahead of her, giving her another smooth tug - the only thing that made her realize they were still holding hands.

For a moment, she worried about the thick calluses covering her hands from her near decade of guitar playing.

Buzz.

Startled by the noise, she slipped her hands out of his with a self-conscious smile. “Sorry, need both hands.”

Checking her notifications, she noticed that she had received two messages; the first from Logan and the second from Camille.

L: Hey, weird question, do you think Camille might have a thing for me?

C: HELP I JUST MADE OUT WITH LOGAN IN THE LOBBY!!!!!

The combination of those two messages made her burst out laughing, nearly dropping her phone on the concrete below her feet as she doubled over. As she held her phone up to show James, her sides felt like they were about to split completely in half.

“These two…!” A few more seconds of laughter let her realize her actions - eyes widening - as a few light chuckles escaped his lips. “Wait, crap, don’t tell Logan that Camille likes him. She’ll kill me!”

Using his pointer finger, he crossed his heart and took a few more steps forward in line. “It’s not like it isn’t totally obvious. Achoo!... I’m pretty sure he’s the only one who doesn’t know.”

After some more giggles, she shot a few texts back.

R: Logan, what makes you think that?

L: She just kissed me approximately 12 times in the lobby.

R: Nice! Some role she must be up for

L: Yeah. One Tree Hill.

R: Oh I LOVE one tree hill

R: Check what my new seventeen has to say about girls kissing you 12 times in the lobby of the hotel you both live ;p

Looking up, she noticed James attempting to read the menu once more. His right hand covered the sun from falling onto his face, shading his hazel eyes. If she could look into his mind and find out what toppings he was debating between, she probably would’ve if she wasn’t so caught up with Logan and Camille’s love life. When he turned back to her, she was too late to realize and react - he had caught her staring.

James waggled his eyebrows, “Like what you see?”

She drove a hand into his side, taking his attention off of her reddening cheeks. “Keep picking your fillings, idiot.”

Once more, she buried herself in her phone to answer Camille.

R: That’s crazy!

R: Is it weird to ask if he's a good kisser?

R: Also, I’m on a date with James, is that weird too?

C: i saw him flirting with jo and then i blacked out

C: and i was pleasantly surprised

C: get off your phone and tell me all about it when i see you later!

R: Jo?

C: new girl! moved in from north carolina today

C: your band is torturing her with awful pick up methods

R: Isn’t that all they’re good at?

C: get off your phone!

“Next!” The vendor called, catching her attention. “What can I get for you two?”

James slipped his hand into hers once more, motioning them forward. “Two crepes please, one filled with chocolate sauce and lots of whipped cream and one filled with…”

“Strawberries and cream, please,” Roxanne answered, a smile creeping up her face at the prospect of the delicious combination… and maybe a bit from the fact James wanted to hold hands with her again.

Just as her date pulled out his wallet to pay, a shout from behind interrupted him.

“There he is! Grab him and strap him down!”

Four sets of hands wrapped themselves around James and shoved him backward onto a padded gurney, detaching him from his date completely. Doctor Hollywood and three of his nurses had tracked the pair through the winding streets and were determined to bring James back for his shots.

The boy was nearly too stunned to speak and started struggling as he was wheeled away, leaving Roxy standing alone at the front of their stand. Once James was out of sight, turned back to the crepe vendor with a sheepish smile, “Sorry about that. Uh, how much will it be?”

***

“Look, I’m not sneezing anymore, so I- I guess I can go back on our date now, and I definitely need that shot! Achoo!” James yelled as Doctor Hollywood, with the help of his nurses, wheeled him through the swinging doors into the examination room the teens had been in before. After paying for their crepes, Roxy had walked after the gurney and had surprisingly caught up with it about halfway to the facility, making sure to take a picture of her date strapped down to give Camille the progress report she had requested. It appeared that James was still putting up very much of a struggle in order to not get the shot despite his position of extreme powerlessness.

“I think our date ended after you got strapped down into a gurney and left me alone at the crepe vendor’s cart.” Roxy pointed out, licking some stray cream off the side of her nearly-gone cone-shaped treat. “But I grabbed yours too, so get the shot and you’re more than welcome to have it.”

Doc Hollywood rolled the gurney to the middle of the room, looming over James as the nurses exited.

“James, it’s not gonna hurt a bit.” A syringe even larger than the one shown earlier was pulled from the man’s lab coat. “It’s gonna hurt a lot.”

General Hospital would be lucky to have him… Roxy thought, but another shriek from the strapped-down boy pulled her back to the present.

James struggled against the leather straps pinning him down at his chest and feet, reaching his hand down into his back pocket even with his limited range of motion. When his fingers grabbed what he was looking for, he gave a little victory yelp and pulled out the can of ‘Cuda man spray he had been using at Rocque Records earlier. Even in his compromised position, he still managed to point it at both the assistant and the doctor, threatening, “Stay back! I’m not afraid to use this.”

Doc Hollywood’s face lit up when his eyes landed on the bizarre product before answering, “Barracuda man spray!” On the counter behind him, he picked up a can of his own ‘Cuda, holding it up like he was facing a nonexistent camera. “Now in new Spice Lime.”

“Stop it! James needs actual medical attention, not a modeling contract. Is there anything besides a shot that can get him to stop sneezing for the time being?”

Stroking his chin and looking up towards the ceiling, the doctor looked like he was lost in thought. “There is one thing that might work…”

Both she and James waited expectedly for the doctor to share his solution.

“Do you think I need a chin implant?”

“Doc, stay focused please,” The assistant begged.

The man stroked his chin a few more times, poking and prodding at different places that could potentially be enhanced by surgery. When he finally turned his attention to the teens in front of him, he seemed to be reminded of his purpose at the office and rummaged through the cabinets once more, pulling out a very large and tacky face mask. The two white ventilators on the side would help filter the air and ensure that no allergens slipped under, allowing James to stop sneezing for the time being. Whether he would be able to sing was an entirely different question, not that the assistant cared anyway.

Taking one final bite of her crepe before pitching the other she was holding, Roxy snatched it out of his hands. Since this was the solution to their problem for the time being, James was eventually released from the gurney and did not make any attempt to run now that there was no threat of a shot to treat his issue. Once the two teens made their way into the lobby, Freight Train was standing near the entrance.

“Put this on, James,” Roxy said, holding the mask out to the boy as they walked.

Slowly, he pushed the object back into her chest, “Nuh, uh. No way am I wearing that, it takes away from all this-”

He placed his hands to the sides of his face and pulled them down, wiggling his fingers. Somehow, James was oblivious to the large man who had come to pick them up.

Once they made their way to the sliding doors to the street, Roxy greeted Gustavo’s new enforcer. “Hi, Mr. Train! Could you please help me get this on our friend over here?”

The next few seconds went by in a blur as James tried to escape the man’s grasp. The two flitted around the lobby, fighting and struggling over the mask. When Freight Train was finally able to pull it over the boy’s head, James decided to give up and the man hauled him over his shoulders. Walking over to Roxy, he gently pulled her up into his arms as well and began to carry the two on the trek back to Rocque Records.

Buzz

K: Hey, are we still cool to sing this song?

K: You seemed freaked earlier so I wanted to check in

R: Do whatever Gustavo tells you

R: No need to get in trouble for my sake

K: You’re a part of this team too!

R: It's not up to you or me :(

R: Tell him it’s not supposed to be a ballad tho, I've got the chords in my book

R: Which he stole

R: I refuse to track them though!

She sent a few more angry messages, filled with profane statements detailing to Kendall her anger at their boss. While trying to explain her grand vision for the song the producer had stolen from her, Freight Train was placing her down in Studio A in front of her band. Almost immediately, Gustavo shoved James back into the recording booth to try and make up for lost time.

As they started the song from the chorus once more, each boy took a different line and showed off their impressive vocal range. Even without the band in mind when she wrote the song, Roxy felt it to be a perfect fit for their unique voices. In addition to Kelly and Gustavo in the recording room with her, the assistant had also noticed Katie sitting in the small circle swing in the room and took a place next to her.

While the band continued their recording, Katie tapped Roxy on the shoulder to show her the reason for her arrival in the office. The young girl had a report due at school on a person that she admires, and for some unfathomable reason, she had chosen Gustavo. Of course, Roxy had a few choice words about the man she had selected to write about but bit her tongue as she turned back to the recording booth to watch the band continue to sing her stolen song.

Kendall, Carlos, and Logan had done very well in singing along to the melody Gustavo was playing, even if the song had a different, slower tempo than she had originally intended. If they kept singing like that, maybe the song Gustavo ripped from her wouldn’t be as terrible as he had claimed. However, once they got to James’ lines, there was an issue, of course. The nature of the mask garbled his voice, not allowing the microphones to pick up any noise he made. But, he still gave it his all.

“What was that?” Gustavo yelled, striking some sour notes on the piano keys once the jumbled mumbling filled his ears.

Roxy turned to him from beside the young girl, “You told me to fix him, so I did.”

“But he can’t sing!”

“I fail to see how that’s my problem.”

The man waved his hands in the air, exasperated. “We have to sing this love song, because the record company wants a love song, and I still hate this song!”

She stood her ground, “Still, not my problem. Besides, James refuses to take an allergy shot, and I refuse to do anything else until I get my song back!”

Gustavo’s voice boomed, “Get him an allergy shot!”

Stepping out from the line of his friends, James took off his mask and sneezed a few times before addressing his boss. “It’s my fault, Gustavo, stop yelling at Roxy. Achoo! I need to do this. I’ll go get the shot.”

Sure, sure.

Pointing at James and then towards the door, the assistant walked out before she even checked to make sure he was coming with her. Marching on, she walked towards the elevator and kept the doors open, which he soon ran into after smelling suspiciously more like ‘Cuda than before. Though the tropical scent filled up the elevator, she found it didn’t bother her as much as it had earlier.

“Did he really take your song?”

There was a long silence and a sneeze before she answered him.

“Yup.”

He shuffled his feet.

“That sucks.”

“Yup.”

What a way with words.

“It happened to me before, back in Minnesota, too,” She offered, trying to play it off as more cool about the situation than she actually was. “I’ve got experience with it. So, I guess I’ll live.”

Some more silence shrouded the two, then the ding of the elevator to let them know they reached the lobby.

James turned to look at her, placing a light hand on her arm. “Sorry about this in advance.”

The doors opened and he took off, racing through the lobby while dousing his entire body with his man spray. It took all Roxy had left in her to try and race after him and his long, long legs.

When they reached the street, he flagged down a cab and yelled, “She will be mine!” before it sped off, presumably towards the Palm Woods to speak with the new girl before any of his friends.

Oh, whatever, it's not like we were just on a date or anything… Could it hurt to go home and recharge for a while?

To her credit, it had been a tough day with stolen songs and uncooperative co-workers and all. So, when another cab passed by she held her hand out. Once it stopped and she hopped in, telling the driver her destination, and soon enough they were there.

Making it through the lobby of the Palm Woods and up to her apartment, there was no sign of James, something she was very thankful for. She really wasn’t interested in watching him try and pick up Jo.

Buzz

C: did i just see you in the lobby?

C: come meet jo, i’ll grab a smoothie for you!

R: Sounds like a plan

R: I’ve had the weirdest day today, can’t wait to tell you

C: <3333

C: we’re going to be by the pool cabanas

R: See you soon

Grabbing a pair of sunglasses, she headed down to meet Camille and Jo.

The weather outside was surprisingly pleasant; there were many people hanging out in the pool or on the lounge chairs suntanning. It was easy to spot Camille, who had traded her cheerleaders uniform for a bright pink tracksuit that looked incredible against her dark hair. Sitting across from her under the bright orange umbrella was the new girl, sipping some juice from the café and listening to her new friend tell one of her countless stories.

Meeting new people was hard for anyone, especially teenagers, so as Roxy approached there was a small bit of dread in her chest. But, as she saw Jo laugh out loud at one of Camille’s jokes the feeling started to dissipate, hopefully to be gone for good.

She just looked so effortlessly pretty when she laughed.

Camille spotted her coming and waved her over, crushing her in a hug when they finally met. Taking the other chair at the table, Roxy sat down and introduced herself to the newcomer.

“Hey,” She said, offering her hand to the blonde. “I’m Roxanne Somerset, but please, call me Roxy. Welcome to the Palm Woods!”

Her hand was shaken, and the new girl passed her a pink smoothie. “Jo Taylor! It’s great to finally meet another girl around here. Camille was just telling me about this new role she’s up for in Degrassi… I moved out here to be an actress too, so her tips are really helpful!”

Next to her, Camille waved her off, “It’s no big deal! Besides, I think you should tell her about all the colorful characters you’ve met today.”

“Oh?” Roxy questioned. “I just moved out here from Minnesota a week and a half ago, so I’m still trying to meet everyone for myself.”

Taking a few sips of her juice, Jo began to detail who she had come across.

“Well, after I had moved in, I was just sitting in the lobby reading lines for the Magic Middle School and this guy dressed in all black and leather and chains came up and introduced himself, right?

Roxy nodded her head taking a few sips of her delicious smoothie as well.

“So, I introduce myself and I ask him his name and he pulls out the worst British accent I’ve ever heard before he ran off! Super weird. Then, this other nerdy-looking guy tries to introduce himself before Camille over here, full-on makes out with him in the lobby!”

“We barely made out!” Camille interrupts, chuckling to herself before looking over to Roxy.

Hmm, I doubt she made out with two guys in the lobby today. So that was Logan.

Jo continued her story, “Then, a while later I was sitting out by the pool and this cute, blond guy came over to say hi and a huge bodyguard type came and threw him over his shoulder and just carried him away.”

The assistant shook her head, knowing full well who that was as well. Since she and James were cooped up in the doctor's office all day, she used her limited knowledge to assume that the first guy was Carlos trying out one of the dating gimmicks Logan had texted her about. This meant the mysterious blond had to be Kendall.

“While I don’t control them, I do feel the need to apologize for their behavior as their songwriter-assistant.” Roxy laughed, imagining what fools the boys had made of themselves. “It sounds like you met Carlos, Logan, and Kendall, three out of four members of the new band Big Time Rush. They are so girl-crazy, it’s insane. In fact, today I even had to-”

Her thoughts were abruptly cut off as she noticed a figure walking his way down the expanse of the pool clad in a black bolero jacket, red snakeskin pants, and white leather shoes. The outfit wasn’t as concerning as the other thing she noticed about him though. The person, who looked suspiciously like James Diamond, came strutting up to them.

As he called out a “hello”, Jo and Camille turned around, letting out twin shrieks as they took in the boy.

“Not the reaction I usually get.” James mused, totally unaware of the red, swelling skin and massive boils that covered his entire body. “But, I’m James. I’m in a band.”

Camille and Roxy looked at each other, hardly able to contain the fits of giggles that threatened to spill out of them as Jo did her best to politely introduce herself.

“Hi… I’m Jo. It’s so nice to meet you.”

James, still unaware, pressed on. “I was thinking maybe we could see a movie later on. Achoo!”

His hands flew up to cover his mouth and nose, showing off more of his inflamed skin.

Too busy to care about his statement to Jo, Roxy took a few more sips of her smoothie to keep anything unsavory from coming out of her mouth.

“Uh,” Jo said. “Don’t you think you should see a doctor first?”

Another hand wiped at his nose, “Oh, because of my sneezing, right?”

Then, he noticed the size of his palm. His giant palm. “Aah! What happened to my hands?”

Noticing a familiar scent, Jo bravely took a deep sigh. “Are you wearing Barracuda man spray?”

Kind enough to give James a moment to freak out, Camille grabbed a compact mirror from her purse and held it out to him. “You do know that stuff was recalled for causing severe allergic reactions, right?”

When the rashed boy took the mirror and held it up to his face, he screamed once more and turned around, quickly strutting back out of the pool area and into the lobby. Wherever he went next was of no concern to the assistant who was self-inflicting her own stomach ache, now laughing openly, at how terrible he looked.

“And that, ahah!” She pushed out through giggles. “Is James, the fourth member of my band.”

The three exchanged smiles before Jo picked up her scripts and drink, looking a bit uncomfortable as she stood up. “How about a change of scenery? I still need some help decorating my room if you two are available!”

“Sounds like a plan,” Camille confirmed, grabbing Roxy’s wrist and pulling her out of her giggling fit.

Heading through the lobby and up the stairs, Jo explained that her apartment was on the second floor, overlooking the pool.

“Oh, mine too! I’m in the north wing next to the guys,” Roxy beamed. “Good to know you won’t be far.”

“I’m on the fourth floor, east wing!” Camille added, ”Just a few floors up.”

Jo opened the door to her apartment, chock full of moving boxes, and waved to her father in the kitchen. She explained that Roxy and Camille were new friends, offering to help her unpack and the two exchanged polite waves with Mr. Taylor before Jo dragged them down the hallway.

Unlike Roxy’s studio or the band’s 3 bedroom, Jo and her father shared a modest 2 bedroom with a straightforward layout. Once they landed in Jo’s room, however, it was clear why she had chosen it. At the back, behind the bed, there were two white French doors to a balcony overlooking the pool area below.

“Oh sweet!” Roxy exclaimed, opening the door and pointing over to the right, “You can see my room from here!”

Jo giggled, “I’ll be sure to keep a big notepad on me so we can write little messages back and forth. Also, could you leave the door open? It’s a little hot in here”

“Sure thing!” The girl called as she walked back over to the little circle the other girls had made on the floor. “And, wouldn’t my phone number work much better than a notepad?”

Roxy dug, pulling her phone out of her small backpack and pressing new contact. Numbers were quickly exchanged before the girls pulled down a few boxes and began to unload them.

As Roxy examined the contents of her box, she was fortunate enough to find Jo’s books, DVDs, and CDs all wrapped up and was more than happy to help her shelf them. Like her, it appeared that Jo was into sappy, supernatural romances and had a giant pile of both their book and film adaptations. The rom-com and drama piles were big as well, with Roxy spying many of her favorites. One of her favorite finds was Jo’s collection of boyband CDs, everything from the Beach Boys to the Jonas Brothers - she knew that they would get along nicely and that she just might enjoy the music she wrote.

“Hey, Jo, I think you’d love the boy band I work for,” Roxy started, holding up some of the CDs and placing them on the shelf in alphabetical order. “They made asses of themselves today for sure, but I’m the one writing their songs so you can just focus on that aspect.”

“No way!” Jo called, wide-eyed. “You didn’t mention they were a boy band; They are so my weakness!”

Camille passed her a few more CDs from the box of mostly knick-knacks she had been unpacking. “The four in BTR have caused quite the stir around here.”

“How about I play you one of the songs I wrote for them? I can even show you the one I’m working on right now!” Roxy pulled out her phone and began to scroll through her endless music library, looking for the song she had written about their first few days in Los Angeles.

The other two girls continued to unpack more from their boxes.

“Here I am, there you are, why does it seem so far?”

The music she had expected to play through her phone ended up coming from the open window instead. Meaning, once again, the boys were taking her song and running with it - doing whatever they pleased with her own creation. The writer pointed towards the window, catching Jo and Camille’s attention and the three ran to the balcony to see Logan and Guitar Dude on the pool deck below.

“Next to you is where I should be.” Continued Logan, showing off a sweet smile. But, he was quickly cut off when Carlos came running in from the left, tackling him into one of the shaded areas of the pool.

“Something I want so bad, know what’s inside your head, maybe I can see what you see.” Carlos began, popping up from above Logan, but not for much longer. Like he had tackled his friend, Kendall was now making his way over to push him to the side.

“I got to keep on believing, everything takes time, I’ll make up any reason to make you mine.”

The girls winced as each one of the boys continued to knock the others out of their way while trying to finish the song she had written. By the time they had reached the chorus, now sped up as each of the boys tried to rush through the song, Roxy could hardly take it. She tapped Jo on the shoulder and motioned towards her bedroom hoping that everyone would follow but the other girls stayed to watch the scene unfold.

Making her way back inside, the assistant plopped down on the floor and placed her head in her hands.

Gustavo I get, but now the guys? Why is everyone taking my song?

It was an extremely frustrating situation and it was one where she was being given no support from her boss or her friends leaving her feeling completely isolated - at least James had silently listened to her complain in the elevator. This line of work was new for all of them, but by how particular she was when she wrote she had hoped the band would understand her connection to her music and how important it was to her. Instead, they were ripping it away from her, using it to one-up each other and to try and get the new girl.

“Guys!” She heard Jo call, “Great song. But you should probably know that I have a boyfriend back home.”

Hearing the words her friend said made the writer perk up a bit.

“What?” The boys called from below.

“But we can still be friends, right?” Jo offered.

“Yeah…” The band chorused, very obvious in their disappointment at her statement.

Camille and Jo considered the matter settled and headed back inside. Though Roxy had tried to put on a brave face, the ravenette immediately noticed something was wrong.

“Roxy…” Camille said, sweeping the girl into another hug. “Am I correct in assuming the awful date isn’t the only reason for your gloomy mood?”

“Bad date?” Jo questioned, looking over.

“Yeah!” Camille affirmed, “She texted me earlier that she was on a date with James!”

“He looks much better without hives and rashes covering his entire body,” The assistant sighed, unsure of why she felt the need to defend her decision.

“And speaking of dates, you told me you didn’t have a boyfriend.” Camille continued, quirking her brow at the newcomer’s declaration.

Great.

Jo looked towards the floor, seeming a little guilty as she shuffled her feet, “Uh, I don’t, but I can’t deal with that every day.”

“Oh,” Sighed Camille, “Boys are stupid! But remember, Logan’s mine.”

As hard as the songwriter tried to focus on the warmth her friends provided her, the hair on the back of her neck rose as she heard Gustavo’s voice float through the window.

“The song is still terrible! Ugh!”

“Give me a second,” Roxy whispered, heading out to the balcony again.

When she noticed the guys talking to Gustavo, surrounded by Kelly, Freight Train, and Katie, she called out his name.

“The song isn’t terrible! Maybe if you just listened to me instead of taking it for yourself you wouldn’t be having this problem!” She was shaking, much like when they had first met, but right now she needed to stand up for herself more than ever. She wouldn’t let the producer push her around any longer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Gustavo called back.

Roxy pointed to the band below her, “You just heard them sing it at a faster pace like the song was intended to be!”

“We need a ballad, not another pop-love song!”

“That’s enough, Gustavo! If you want a ballad, write it yourself. I’m never leaving my book out of my sight ever again!”

She peered down at him, satisfied that her comment had shut him up at least for a few seconds.

“Very well then. Good job, you learned your lesson. Now, come down here and finish it with me.”

Heads turned, from her friends, from Freight Train and Kelly, and even from the pool patrons.

“Lesson?” Repeated the assistant. “What lesson?”

***

After a few more hours and a terrible explanation from Gustavo about his “lesson” the two had finally come to a peace agreement. The producer had wanted to teach the girl about the dangers of leaving unfinished and uncopyrighted music lying about, showing that anyone could take it and pass it off as their own. Apparently, she had left her journal in the studio after cleaning up the bad boy fiasco last night. Roxy wanted to wring his neck and tell him that was the stupidest way he could possibly teach that to her, but refrained and thanked him for his “generosity” through gritted teeth.

Anything to get my song published she reminded herself. Gustavo can’t produce if he’s dead.

The two had finally completed the remaining lyrics and melody, handing it off to the guys to sight read and share for Griffin, who was sitting in the chairs of the recording room in front of her. The band had finally agreed to stop fighting about Jo after learning about her fake boyfriend and it appeared as though James had rushed off to see Doc Hollywood after his embarrassing stunt at the pool and was finally back to his normal self.

As the song played, she reflected on the lyrics a bit, imagining the band in a music video where they dressed up as different characters that included all of their friends from the Palm Woods. Quietly, she wrote the idea down in her journal to save for later.

When the track slowly came to an end, a silence washed over the room as Gustavo, Kelly, and Roxy waited for the CEO's final verdict.

Standing up, Griffin buttoned his suit jacket and turned towards Gustavo. “I tell you I want a slow love song, and instead, you ignore me and give me… a hit. Great job, Gustavo, Miss Somerset.”

Roxy was finally able to breathe again, as the CEO leaned in to give her boss a hug.

“But I still want a slow love song!” Griffin cautioned. “And put the word ‘baby’ in it… Yeah, that’s good.”

One more thing on Gustavo’s plate. Poor old fool.

Before any more conversations about the song Griffin wanted continued, Roxy snuck out of the recording room and through the booth, giving the guys a thumbs up as they met.

“Great performance, guys.” She congratulated the four. “It seems like we have yet another hit on our hands!”

Cheers erupted from her friends, who came over to crush her in a massive hug.

“Thanks in no small part to you!” Carlos told her, squeezing her a bit tighter. “After what Gustavo told you earlier, I for sure thought you were going to take your song back!”

“I had the option to do that?” She questioned, cracking a smile. “Maybe I should…”

“No!” They all began to beg, worried looks crossing their faces.

From beside her, Kendall placed a hand on her head, “If not for you, we’d probably be singing some stupid, slow song with the word ‘baby’ in it right now.”

“About that…”

#big time rush #btr #james diamond #james maslow #kendall knight #kendall schmidt #logan mitchell #logan henderson #carlos garcia #carlos penavega #thats all she wrote fic

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