#I’m scared. I’m so scared. because I got my first cane over the summer and less than a year later I’m like ten times as bad off

[nope-body]

.

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 8: Not mine

After a couple of hours of talking, and mostly listening, to Rhoda and Chapman about dragon habits and needs, I promise to help look for a better place for me to live. Though my hope is that there aren’t any.

Dammit, even after my transformation I’m still fawning.

I think I need to talk to my counselor about having human grade C-PTSD as a dragon. I don’t think she’s qualified to assess that, but she can at least listen. Especially if I get another tablet, which, by the way, Kimberly says she might have for me.

She won’t be able to bring it to me until later tonight, or tomorrow morning, but that’s fine.

It’s her old one, though, and it has a shitty battery, which we’ll need to replace to make it actually useful for me. But Rhoda is the kind of person who knows who to go to for that, apparently.

It seems that Rhoda’s favorite thing to do is networking, and she networks with everyone.

It turns out that Chapman took the day off just to get that color booklet to me as soon as possible, and was able to because work was fortuitously so slow today. Hir boss almost suggested it before sie walked up and asked.

And now that we’ve had our meeting early, sie’s eager to go with Rhoda to the library. Any opportunity to research dragons further clearly excites the shit out of hir.

The two of them make quite the pair. Tall Rhoda with her purples and maroons, with long sleeves and stockings even in the summer heat, and a cane that’s basically too thick dowels nailed together with a miter joint, and short round Chapman’s ingenious mishmash of neon queer greaser roller derby 90’s ska punk perfection, walking side by side down the street. I feel like there’s some kind of power there. And if they were baubles, instead of people, they’d be the perfect start to a good hoard.

Watching them head toward the bus depot, I realize that what I’m about to do is very risky, all for the sake of something I don’t believe in.

I’d better do it right.

It’s about half past noon now, and the traffic has gotten heavier as people are on their lunch breaks. Which means I can’t really use any of the roads as a runway.

I step out from under the awning and look up at my building.

Time to climb it.

Oh, the police are going to love this if they see me doing it.

Whatever.

Using a stroke of my wings for assistance, I leap up to grab the edge of the awning, and then flapping them rapidly I work to pull myself up onto it. And I do much better than Whitman did in a similar situation. They must have been really stunned and scared.

There’s a fire escape around the corner of the building, and I could have just gone to that in the first place, actually. I do that now, to save myself a lot of effort. No need to scale a brick face where there are stairs. And those go up to the top floor!

At the top of those, I do a repeat of my hop and scrabble to get onto the roof.

It’s not the tallest building downtown, but it’s one of the few.

I’m going to head south, so jumping from the roof down over the street I usually use as a runway makes the most sense. But I’ve got something else I have to do first.

Determined to make it known that this place is mine, I pace around the full edge of the building, repeatedly making my signature challenge call.

Let it be known that if you can hear my voice, you are in my air! And you’d better turn away and find somewhere else to be.

After about halfway around the circumference of the building, I start hearing other cries echoing back, each one very different from the others. And I can actually visualize where I think they’re coming from.

I get sort of a map in my head of where some of the other dragons are in the city. I don’t think I could draw it, but I can see the only hole I can fly through without offending anyone. Jesus, we’re densely packed. And it’s not even all fifty that are supposed to be here. Maybe twelve others have answered.

This isn’t going to be good if we can’t make peace with each other somehow.

Even though I know it’s unreasonable, my feeling is that if they all recognize my superiority, we’ll be fine.

With this thought firmly in mind, just for the determination of it, I complete my circuit, and then position myself for take-off.

I’ve gotta give one more revving Harley squawk and air-ratchet chatter before I take off, so I do. And then I fall, spread my wings, and pull up to shoot out down the street just above tree level. Then, flapping laconically and heading for the strongest of the thermals in my path, I rebuild my altitude before heading out over the bay.

And the more distance I put between myself and my lair, the more I feel like I’m personally at risk and in danger. If someone takes my home, they take my hoard, such as it is, and they take my people. And I really can’t have that. I’d have to start all over again, of course. But also, it’d be like if someone kidnapped my parents and burned down their house, but worse.

I tell myself that my declaration has given me at least a couple hours of reprieve from challengers. Everyone has to know I’m in a mood, and maybe word of what I did to Whitman has started to get around. Though, Whitman’s yawp was not among the responses. I wonder where they live, or where they went after our fight.

They had headed south, on foot.

Hmm.

—

The cave I’m looking for is at the northern end of a trail that follows along the ridge of the foothill closest to the bay, south of the city. It’s technically inside city limits, but there’s no real development there. It’s officially a park on the east side of the ridge, with a smattering of housing developments on the west, facing the water and the sunsets. I’ve delivered pizza to a few of those houses before, during the three months I worked for a pizza place.

I didn’t hear any dragons here, which is either amazing or they just didn’t give a shit. Maybe my voice didn’t make it this far.

I go as far south as I dare and look for the parking lot at the trailhead there, and then follow the trail up and along the ridge. It’s not always visible from the air, but I know where it goes. I hiked it with my parents a couple times before my chronic fatigue set in.

The rocky outcrop that’s used as a viewpoint by hikers is easy to see, and I know it’s right near the end of the trail, so I land on that.

I take a moment to stand there and look out over the southern neighborhoods of the city, toward the arboretum where I humiliated Whitman.

I suspect I’m already in another dragon’s territory, so I’m quiet and alert.

I don’t even huff, though I want to.

Then I start following the trail toward the old mine, the one I’ve been thinking about for the past day. As quietly as I can move. Which is really amazingly quiet. I think. I’m not sure my ears work as well as they used to. They’re kind of hidden behind my head armor.

Whitman had parabolic bat-like ears. If this is Whitman’s territory, I’m going to have to assume they know I’m coming.

This is so stupid.

It’s also more of a hike down than I remember. Almost halfway back down the side of the mountain. And it is just tall enough to be registered as a mountain. Though, I think part of the onerous nature of my skulking exploration is that I’m walking on all fours and being as cautious as possible every inch of the way. 

And with each step, I’m afraid I’m going to be ambushed with napalm. Or teeth the size of my own horns and jaws designed to crush small boulders. Well, maybe two watermelons at the same time.

The thing is, though, I do think that this isn’t really Whitman’s kind of terrain. I’m probably more at home here than they are. If I see them coming, I should be able to dodge around trees so much more easily than they can follow.

But that doesn’t assuage my fear at all. Because if I don’t see them coming, I’m probably dead.

But, eventually I see the big mound of dirt jutting out from the side of the mountain that marks the opening of the mine.

I stop and listen. Then I taste the air.

I taste it repeatedly and a lot, moving my head back and forth.

I could actually sort of do this before my transformation. My tongue was always way more sensitive than my nose, and plugging my nose never made it so I couldn’t taste anything. But it’s nicer and more effective to have a longer tongue that’s split and more flexible, with a sort of hole in the center of my lips for it to slip out. And it is way more sensitive than it was before.

I don’t taste anything that I’d identify as another dragon.

And, also, the mouth of that man made cave isn’t any warmer than its surroundings.

I think that means that if there’s a dragon there it’s not Whitman. But I can’t bring myself to be sure that it’s vacant.

Maybe I should make a strategic noise. A call of challenge for this one only. Quiet, but not too quiet.

I’d rather call them out, bristling and ready to fight, than to stick my head into a gout of napalm.

Or maybe I should just leave, because this was a bad idea.

Experimentally, I rumble. And I stand there and rumble for quite a while, and nothing happens.

Realizing that it’s not working, I then make a squawk about the volume I’d use to call to someone across a crowded pub.

It sounds a lot louder than I’m comfortable with.

But there’s no response.

I stay still a while longer, still tasting the air and using my ears. My hearing might not be as good as it was, but I’m not not using it! I’m also keeping an eye out for any movement.

When I’m certain that there’s no dragon here that’s going to make themself known, I approach the cave.

But at the mouth of it, I taste the air again. Or, rather, I don’t stop tasting it the whole way, but I pause there to wave my head back and forth some more.

If anything, the air tastes like forest duff and vaguely of human urine.

Gross.

There is no heat in the cave. Even an endothermic dragon would likely be warmer than their surroundings. I think that once they got as cold as their surroundings, they’d need to warm them up somehow to not go into torpor, with how cool it is in there.

I’m just guessing. But it’s what I’m telling myself to get myself to go deeper in.

I move so slowly, one footstep at a time. Nothing.

Nobody.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can tell clearly that the cave is completely empty. It doesn’t even go that far back. Maybe thirty feet, just as I remember.

I also remember my parents telling me not to go all the way back, because in an abandoned mine that’s maybe a hundred years old, that’s really dangerous. Even though the walls and ceiling are solid rock. And, of course, it’s a square shaft.

Still, now I’m curious if I could even make it a comfortable home. It’s pretty small, with no room for even what I call a hoard. But I could put something in here and if I can turn around alright, maybe it’ll do while I work to assert my dominance over a larger region.

I want to know how it feels, and I just… I just…

It might be nice to sleep in here. Like, right now.

A Tumblr post I reblogged just last week comes to mind, and I’m sufficiently alarmed. No, no, no. I’ve got to get out of here quickly.

I’ll die.

I start backing up, scrunching up as I go, getting my head out of the back of this mine as fast as I can, when I hear, or rather feel, a powerful thump behind me.

In a horrific panic, without even really thinking, I scramble up the wall and across the ceiling like I’m trying to leave the bathroom in my apartment after using the toilet. And, wings held tightly against my ribs, tail scraping along the lower corner of the wall until it whips out behind me, I land facing the entrance without having advanced any further that way.

A quick breath gives me more oxygen than before, which is good.

Because there, right in front of me, are all the teeth of Whitman, coming right at me.

Two steps back, and another quick intake of air, this time not into my lungs, and I just barely avoid having my head snapped off.

We’re nose to nose, and I don’t even know if they can see me around their snout.

Their mouth opens quickly again to make another attack.

And I exhale.

The result is not good for either of us.

There is fire everywhere.

And even though my nictitating membranes have successfully protected my eyes from burning and from being hurt by the glare of heat, and my scaly hide seems to shrug off my own napalm just fine, the fire is eating up the oxygen in the mine extremely fast.

I have to get out as fast as I can. But to do that I have to go through an enormous flaming Whitman.

And they’re thrashing about in terror and pain, slamming their head against the sides, ceiling, and floor of the mine shaft, and I know better than to get any closer to that.

I can’t stop myself from taking another step back, despite that way being certain death. But I also can’t stop myself from making a noise.

At first it’s my ultra bass rumble, low enough that pebbles on the floor of the mine dance. Whitman’s got to feel it.

But they’re too distracted by napalm in their gullet to care.

I can’t even really see what’s going on. My eyes are cloudy with natural protection, and fire and chaotic movement is creating an unintelligibly blur of light and shadow. And I think I’m asphyxiating.

Needing as much oxygen and breath as I can get, I take a big breath of dangerous air, which might be a huge mistake, and start making the most humiliating sound I can think of. Humiliating for Whitman.

I fill the cave with a fire engine’s siren. No honks, no braps, just a constant, long warbling wail. And I start advancing, to make it get louder.

I want those ears to bleed.

Visually, I can’t tell if it’s working. My own snout is probably still aflame. But I do hear thumbs, scrapes, and yawps as Whitman continues to struggle and thrash.

They didn’t come very far into the cave, because I wasn’t all that far in there. They should be running out of walls to hit if they’re backing up. But I keep going, because I have no other choice. And I’ll know if I’ve misjudged when I get hit in the face with a hippo-dragon snout.

I lower my head, present my horns, and brace my neck to make a plunge, and then, convinced I’m committing suicide, I charge.

There’s a thump, a “Grawp”, and a big sliding sound as I move, but I don’t make impact.

Instead I come flying out of the mine through smoke and flames, and scrabble right over Whitman as they’re sliding down the far slope of the mine’s discarded rubble.

And I keep running. I’m not going to face that monster any longer than I have to.

I’m not on my own territory.

At some point I find a good place to take to the air, and I start heading home, out of breath and wobbling in the sky.

I notice when the fire on my snout goes out from the wind and exhaustion of fuel, because I can see again.

And I need to rest somewhere soon, but I’m headed straight for home over the territories of other dragons, and there’s nowhere safe between here and there.

—

The next morning falls with dew upon my head, and grows with a ravenous hunger in my belly. And I can hear seagulls crying out, begging me to eat them.

I’m on the roof of my building, where I collapsed after my flight home. And it seems I’ve slept unchallenged there for fifteen hours or so, if I’m reckoning time right.

Tentatively and gingerly licking my snout with my tongue, I find that I have not been burned by my own flame, but I can taste the traces of chaired fluids on my scales. My nictitating membranes flick into place as I lick my eyes, successfully cleaning them. And then I raise my head and look around.

I didn’t do any damage landing on the roof, so it seems I had a reasonable amount of control even then. Though I don’t fully remember that part.

I remember the flight as being longer than heading out to the cave, and filled with challenges from below. And I remember being quiet, because I needed my breath.

I remember gliding as much as I could to conserve energy and let oxygen build up in my blood.

And I remember deciding, no longer in lucid thought, that my building is my domain and determining to keep it, regardless of what any human says. It’s so fragile, and another dragon could knock it down or set it aflame. But it’s mine, and I’ve just got to do whatever I can to keep it safe.

And now I think about Whitman.

They’re in such a bad spot, with no shelter but a forest that doesn’t suit them, and hardly any people to call their own, unless they do have claim to the west side of the ridge.

I know it’s a bad spot, because they fell back to it after making the effort to drive into the heart of the city and try to take mine.

They must have been watching and tracking me, too. And used their infravision to pick out my apartment. Which speaks to a calculated scheme.

Do I, by chance, have a coveted spot? Or was I just the most vulnerable looking candidate in the downtown area. I am nearly in the center of it, and the nearest other dragons are in other neighborhoods. Which seems unlikely, by population densities. Statistically there should be another dragon or two nearer than that. I think.

Maybe Whitman was another downtown dragon, and that’s why they attacked so viciously and desperately.

I get up and stretch and raise my head to the sky.

After a long and loud challenging cry, I hear reports from my neighbors.

I almost feel reassured by them.

I do it again, and they repeat themselves.

Another.

It feels like they all enjoy this.

I wait.

Someone else calls out, and everyone else replies, including me.

I wonder what the rest of the city is thinking as we do this, joining the birds in the morning song.

And then when we’re done, I start looking out over my domain, looking for likely breakfasts.

I suspect that eating a seagull or two is going to be a confusing experience for me, but it’s going to happen.

[stardusttkachuk]

Santa’s Workshop

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: fluff, swearing,

Summary: JJ picks up a holiday job, working as one of Santa’s elves. He doesn’t expect to meet another elf there, but isn’t disappointed in who he’ll be working with all season.

A/N: This is day 1 of starduststarkey’s 12 days of Christmas. Find other fics in my masterlist

Wanna be tagged? click here!

“You look fucking ridiculous,” John B says as JJ stands in front of the broken full length mirror that JB picked up from a junkyard.

“At least I have a job, asshat.” He fixes his hat on his head, grimacing at the way the tights hug his body. He’s uncomfortable in every place imaginable and is already dreading the 5 hour shift.

“Maybe if you’re a good elf, Santa will bring you a girlfriend this year!” Pope teases.

“You better shut the fuck up before this elf beats you to a pulp,” JJ threatens, fists raised.

Pope laughs. “I don’t think elves are supposed to be getting in fist fights.”

JJ huffs and rolls his eyes. Pope is right. He can’t show up to this job covered in bruises, that would scare the kids even more than he probably already will.

“Will you please drive me?” He asks John B. 

“Maybe you should ask Santa for a car,” John B says, grabbing the keys to the Twinkie.

“Why do you think I even took this job in the first place? Please. I don’t want to be seen in public like this.”

You set your bag in the provided cubby, checking your phone one last time before your scheduled session. When you had signed up to be one of Santa’s elves at the local mall, you were ecstatic. You and your best friend had been doing this for the last two years. But this year, your best friend ditched you for the hot chocolate stand. Really she ditched you for the cute girl who worked at the hot chocolate stand, and now you were stuck working with some kid named JJ Maybank. You crossed your fingers in hopes that he wasn’t some loser like the guy they hired last season.

“Santa arrives in 10 minutes! You better be out there in 5!” Natasha, the showrunner of Santa’s Workshop yells through the improvised locker and changing room. “Where’s your other elf?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. He hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Well when he gets here tell him he’s a dead man if he isn’t here 15 minutes prior to his shift.” She storms out, clipboard in hand. 

The first day is always one of the craziest. Things don’t settle down until a few weeks in. And by the time they do settle down, it’s already the week before Christmas and they get crazy again. 

“Hi. I’m JJ Maybank. I think this is where I’m supposed to be?” You hear someone say, likely talking to the nutcracker that’s posted outside the green room.

“In there. Find Y/N. You’ll know it’s her because she’ll be dressed just like you.”

You roll your eyes. At least he showed up. Ten minutes late but he did make it.

He passes through the curtains, blonde hair a mess under his elf hat. You’ll have to remind him to brush it before he arrives. You have an extra brush in your bag, but you know you won’t have time to make it look perfect.

He spies you easily, strutting towards you. “I’m JJ. Are you Y/N?” 

“That’s me. You’re late, by the way.”

JJ looks at his watch, eyes wide and mouth agape. “I’m five minutes early! That’s the earliest I’ve been for any job!”

“Natasha’s rules state all workshop employees must be present 15 minutes prior to their shift.”

JJ rolls his eyes. “It’s only ten minutes.”

“And if it happens again, you’re a dead man. So you better be here 15 minutes early next time.”

“Okay but why 15? Aren’t we just sitting around those 15 minutes until our shift starts?”

“It’s for costume malfunctions. Like your hair. It needs to be brushed. If you had been here 10 minutes earlier, maybe we would’ve had time to brush it and make it look better.”

“My hair looks fine,” JJ grumbles, though he does attempt to smooth down the ends with his hands. 

You lead him over to the cubby next to yours, gesturing to it. “Put your stuff in here. And that includes your phone.”

JJ places both his phone and wallet into the cubby. He then takes his jacket off and puts it on top of the two valuable items.

“No one is going to steal your stuff, if you’re worried about that. This place is heavily monitored,” you say. “And no one but Santa’s crew is allowed back here anyway.”

JJ is about to speak when an elderly woman with white hair tucked under her hat enters the room. “Looks like Mrs. Claus has arrived,” he jokes.

“That’s Natasha.” You grab JJ’s hand, pulling him out to Santa’s corner before Natasha has a chance to yell at him for his tardiness.

“So what exactly do we do?” JJ whispers, eyeing the line of children and their parents that seems to wrap around the entire display.

“We help the kids from their parents to Santa’s lap and then back out to their parents again. And don’t forget the candy cane before they leave.”

JJ grimaces. “You mean we have to interact with the kids?”

“Yes. Now smile and act like an elf,” you say.

“How do- ohf!” JJ grunts as you elbow him and immediately reach forward for the hand of a little girl.

“Hi! I’m elf Y/N! And this is my friend elf JJ! What’s your name?” You ask in a high pitched voice. 

“I’m Sophie,” she beams. She grasps onto JJ’s hand and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing at the face he makes. It’s clear he isn’t a fan of kids and you can’t wait to watch him interact with them for the next 30 days.

JJ pulls his booties on over the tights, chuckling to himself as the bells jingle. They jingle every time he walks. He’s grown so used to the sound now though. He’s grown used to looking absolutely ridiculous in his costume. He’s even grown used to the kids, which he thought was impossible.

But the way Y/N smiles when he coos at a baby or holds onto a preschoolers hand has helped him get over his dislike of the kids. He’d do just about anything to see her smile.

“Ready?” John B asks from the doorway, keys looped around his finger.

“Actually a friend is picking me up,” JJ says, grabbing his phone and wallet.

“What friend? You don’t have any friends besides us.”

“Well that’s very rude of you to think. I have plenty of friends. And her name is Y/N. We work together.”

“Work together or sleep together? Or both. Do you guys like, get it on in the costumes?”

“Ew, no,” JJ scoffs.

“Okay, you know elves is somebody's kink,” John B adds, shuddering as he does.

“I didn’t want to know that. I don’t want to think about that.”

“Okay but Y/N… you like her.”

“No. We’re just friends. We’re coworkers. We work the same shift and she offered to give me a ride, okay? Now can you make yourself disappear before she gets here? I don’t want her seeing your face.”

John B pouts. “Why not? I have a very likable face.”

“Just… please?” JJ asks, but it’s too late. 

The beat up Ford truck pulls up in front of the house. JJ knows it’s hers. On days when they work late and it’s dark outside by the time they leave, he walks her to her car. They once spent two extra hours after work sitting in her car and talking. She even gave him a ride home once, but he made her drop him off down the street. It was too risky for her to pull up to his actual house, especially if his dad was home. 

JJ knows John B is in the doorway when he exits the house. He watches as Y/N waves, a courteous smile on her face. JJ walks to the passenger side, hearing the familiar squeak of the old door.

“Who’s that?”

“John B. He’s my best friend.”

“He’s dating Sarah Cameron right?” she asks.

“Yeah. You know Sarah?”

“Everyone on this island knows Sarah,” Y/N laughs. JJ knows she’s not wrong. Everyone did know the Cameron's, especially after the huge scandal that went down last summer. People don’t typically forget about a murder and stealing of millions of dollars worth in gold.

“Right,” JJ laughs nervously. 

You tear your elf hat off as soon as you reach your truck. Today was a hard shift. Multiple crying kids, lines that wrapped all around the mall, parents who didn’t understand the concept of patience and waiting, and then there was the kid that peed on Santa Claus and made everyone wait even longer while Santa went to change. It was a nightmare. 

If it wasn’t for JJ, today would’ve been the day you quit.

But he insisted on stopping for dinner before you dropped him off, so here you were, sitting at a booth across from him, the both of you still clad in your elf costumes.

You probably looked ridiculous but you didn’t care. JJ was your sole focus tonight. He let you vent to him about the craziness of the day and when you weren’t talking he was telling you about the funniest wishes he had overheard while on candy cane duty. 

“All their missing socks?” You laugh, hand covering your mouth.

JJ nods, laughing harder. “He-He couldn’t understand why the dryer monster needed his socks more than him. He even asked if-if monsters were on the naughty list!” JJ bursts out laughing, as do you. If there was one thing that could cheer you up, it was this.

“Kids got a point,” you giggle. “Why does the dryer monster only take one sock and not both? Do you think he only has one leg?”

JJ nods, his smile wide. “Yeah, instead of one eye he’s got one leg.”

Your laughs die down slowly, but you can’t wipe the smile off your face. The smile that was forced all throughout the day was now a real one.

“I’ve missed that smile,” JJ says, reaching his hand across the table.

You blush but take his hand without hesitation, lacing your fingers through his.

JJ nervously clears his throat. “Do you think when this is all over, I can take you on an actual date?”

You’re not sure your smile could get any wider. “I’d like that.”

You both stare at each other for a while longer, before JJ can’t wait anymore. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, leaning over the table.

“I’d like that too,” you respond, meeting him halfway.

Tags: @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @serpentbaby @etoilesnoor @k-k0129 @maybanksbaby @talksoprettyjjx @canibeoneofthepogues @multifixx  @theonetheonlyalexbrown @glux64 @shy-1234 @sleepyhollands @cognacdelights @ilovejjmaybank @blueeyedbesson @cheshirecat107 @myrandom-fandomlife @makebank @ifilwtmfc @obxmxybxnk  @kookkyra @rafej-cambanks @blindedbypeaky @ahiae @repostcentral @midnightzonzz @blxndeprincess @dracosbbygorl @itsagurl @Poguesinablanket @amandaburris @tovvaa @sunnsettee

[sideblogformindtrash]

SUMMER OF WHUMP - DAY 4 - ABANDONED

Mind the huge cw. Is mostly just discussing it, but still.

CW: Insinuated no-con; past-abuse; relieving past trauma; abandonment; very low self esteem; humiliation; accidental triggering; bait dog; whipping; starvation; shoved in luggage bag; bitten by mice; gross food; claustrophobia; burns; no-con drugging; no-con touching; mentioned amputation; pet whump; multiple whumpers; human trafficking; muzzle; starvation; neglect; manhandling; cruel/intimate/neglectful whumpers;

“H-hello and welcome to BB’s and Pastel’s show!” ...Pastel turned the octopus plush around as BB turned the camera on. It went from a pink, smiley octopus, to it’s frowning gray insides. Pastel pulled the blankets over his head, leaving only his eyes out “...I’ll be your host, BB, and this is my assistant, Mr.Tonsils!”

BB lifts Mr.Tonsils in front of the camera, waiving his little furry paws so he can say hello to their audience. They pick up the camera, and take it to the bed with Pastel, capturing his pretty pink-ish eyes. 

“C-come on Pastel! Say hi!”

Pastel shifts slightly under the blanket.

“I’m… Not a fan of cameras, BB'' his voice is just a whisper, as he twists the blanket. BB thinks he is kneeling “...I’ll just… be your audience today, okay?”

“O-oH! Sorry!” BB stepped away. That was right. Pastel didn’t have good memories about that. BB pointed it away, making sure only they and Mr.Tonsils were on frame. Pastel seemed to relax, even sitting back and lowering his blanket cocoon “...So, due to technical issues, Pastel won’t be joining us tonight. But that 's okay. BB and Mr.Tonsils are here to entertain you!”

BB smiled, making sure to show the missing little teeth. Just like Blue. Just like Blue… before, at least. 

“...Well, for tonight’s show me and Mr.Tonsils prepared a top 15 review!” BB wasn’t sure if it really classified as such. But it sure sounded nice “BB will be going over all of our old homes!”

They noticed as Pastel frowned, suddenly changing their expression, way more alert. BB only felt more excited. If Pastel was paying attention, it clearly meant the topic of the video was interesting! Audiences would love it! Even… Even if this was never going to be aired. BB could picture the audiences!

...With a deep breath, they braced themselves and started. They had prepared for this. They could do it.

“...BB’s begun it’s life like us all, in b-between white walls and tiled floors of the training grounds. They were worthless and ugly and dumb, BB’s smile never charmed anyone! It took a long time in the store before BB got home. It was and old lady that said BB was so ugly that it hurt, and dumb as a door, but worked well enough to, to scrub her floor” BB smiled, remembering the cozy attic, where they made their first friends, among piles of boxes that compiled their first owner’s life. Long nights they spent alone there, digging through piles of pictures, trying to piece together what a human life was like. Nonsense, it was, because it just filled BB’s head with a lot of silly thoughts.  They lifted Mr.Tonsils for the camera “...BB worked the day and spent the night locked away. In the house’s attic, BB made their first friends. They were Mr.Tonsils crowd, a family of mice, and BB befriended them all, even if they’d bite BB’s feet while it was trying to sleep! BB loved the house, their first owner, and e-every single mouse!”

BB hugged Mr.Tonsil, swinging him around. Pastel was biting his lip, pulling a thread out of the blanket. Good! He was enjoying the story! And BB felt like they were doing good, too. Better than they did at any of their homes.

“...First owner got tired of BB because the stupid Pet let her cat flee! All BB wanted to do was help and clean, but the cat saw their chance and ran away. First owner took BB to a store with a mean looking clerk. They agreed BB was ‘So ugly it fucking hurt’, hoping BB would only stay a few days and them someone would want them” BB rubbed their hand together. That didn’t count as an owner, did it? It was only temporary, in nature. Not that owners lasted very long “BB was at the store for almost a full month, during which they got to eat, sleep and there was no work. BB wanted to make friends with other pets in cages, but they never stayed for long, after all - good pets get good homes!”

...BB was still upset about the store. All of those Pets had looked so nice, so much better than they are… And they never tried to talk to BB. They were all scared they’d be beaten down if they tried, but never were. BB was the only worthless one, that got the punishments… for everyone!

“...BB was bought by creepy looking guy who stuffed BB inside a cage and on a plane and was flown away” BB gestured with their hand, copying the movements of a plane. They had to be on the chair, so it would look nice on video, but otherwise, they would have liked to run around with their arms opened “...Creepy man named BB Bait. They were a teaser for a larger, angrier Pet named Spike, who had on BB a nice punching bag who couldn’t put up a fight. They were nice to BB and even a friend, but scary and cruel when the Master decided they needed to beat them. So BB was Spike’s chew toy, but when they were nice… BB was always filled with joy!”

...They closed their eyes for a second. Those two lives were merged together. One of them had been so short, they could barely remember the second dog.

“...After Spike got tired, BB was sold again, to be another dog's punchbag. And he was the third friend BB had! He refused to hurt BB, would even cuddle them to sleep, and then I was severly punished… For making the Master's dog weak. It was the first time BB tasted a whip, and with dark bruises on its face, BB was sold again”

...They stood in that second store for a week. With no food, and no sleep. They were dirty, and cheap, not worthy of caring for.

“The next Master had BB as furniture for his house. All he did was snap his fingers and that was BB’s call. It would crawl and hold things very still and keep his glass fill, he would rest his feet over BB. If it got boring the cane was always on hand, he could crack in on BB’s back and get it all shades of purple and black. BB didn’t sleep there much at all, it had to stand still behind his bed, all night long holding a water jar upon a tray, in a perfect 90° degree, or there was always hell to pay” BB touched their arm, absentmindedly, a small scar on their elbow where bone had poke through “But BB was ugly furniture, bad and broke away, when Master tried to sit over its back one sad summer day. BB tumbled to the side, knocking Master to the floor. BB got a broken arm and was kicked out of the door!”

“...The next Master that took me in was cruel and harsh, with unusual punishments that left some scars: fingers pulled back until they snapped, weights to BB’s feet, heavy chains and painful strains and the worst - the oven’s flame” BB tilted their head. That Master, too, had scars. They didn’t know how she had gotten them, it was not it’s place to ask. They… They were happy to leave that one “...BB was then lost in a card game, and doesn’t remember much at all. Pills made BB sweet and kind and small. What BB doesn’t get is that they never needed pills - they would never disobey, even if put through awful, lingering pain, they’d love Master all the same.”

...Hazy. Foggy memories. Hands over them, and brushing their cheeks, and so much drool because they were never cohesive enough to form words or move. Blinking white lights, whispered little things that returned to them in dreams.

“...When BB was sober again, they found themselves in a shed, where they were always so alone. The Master was a mountain who only came at night to beat BB down. The days went by slowly, loneliness crushing down, it was dark and cold and hungry, and there were spiders all around“ BB stopped their speech for a moment. This next part was something… that still haunted them. They had done… awful, awful things. They covered Mr.Tonsils' ears. They were afraid of what he would think “...BB, on that shed, made things it would rather forget. Just like the Master forgot BB had to fed! BB might have eaten a few of Tonsil's friends, please don’t let him know, is just BB’s stomach hurt so much and it was the only thing that could stop the growl”

BB releases Mr.Tonsil’s ears, hearing a gasp from Pastel. They turn and smile, but his face is… Pale, horrified. BB shrugs. Pastel always worries faaaar too much. Next one… Made BB feel nostalgic.

“Next… Was the trucker! He liked BB a whole lot, and let BB on the bed and the passenger’s seat! He and BB traveled a lot, seeing magic and beautiful places. BB spoke on the radio, and… And… Had a name! Was called Oreos...” They messed up their rhymes. This… This wasn’t how it was supposed to go “...BB was… Was happy then. His spouse didn’t like me, and… And behind his back, gave me away”

BB’s nails sunk on their arms, as they hug themselves. They… missed those days. It was good, good nostalgia, but what followed made them sick. They had just learned how big and beautiful the world was…

“Next Master… Stuffed BB into a bag, small and stinky with heavy leather smell, with no room to move at all, so much BB’s limbs collapsed when it was finally left out. It travelled around so much, but BB never got to see outside. It was let out during the night to be with Master, and shoved back on the bag once he was satisfied” BB shook their head, as if that would send the memories away. They hated it, hated that bag so, so much. Terrible, suffocating and endlessly boring and aching. And worse… that’s when they lost their name Oreos. They had loved that life. They truly had. “It didn’t matter much, BB was soon thrown away again. Unlovable and worthless, no one could stand BB for much longer either way. BB was sold and sold, always on their way. Next Master was confusing – gave BB many orders and functions, then beat BB down for following the instructions! They likes to trick BB, make plenty of cruel jokes, BB was just a dumb dog, one they only named Mutt!”

...They smiled then. The next one was also nice. His name was Wolfgang, but he was not a wolf. Not that BB could remember.

“And BB’s following owner sold stuff door to door! Saw BB – or Mutt then – and thought they were good charms! BB helped with the sales, being all cute and sweet, and Master was happy at first, but eventually… Sold me!”

And the next Master was…

BB shivered. This one… Hurt a lot. A whole fucking lot. It had been one of the longest lasting homes they had. It had changed the way they saw and thought of themselves forever. It was where they became BB. Bootleg Blue. Fake, useless, worthless.

“…Next was Owner Alvin, who BB loved so, so, so much. He said he would always care for BB… if BB could be someone else. BB had never ever been loved, and the feeling was so gentle and sweet! BB finally understood why no one else had loved it, and what it needed to do so that it would. Blue, a pet who had videos and fame, who had scars BB didn’t have… But I wanted to gain! BB left their teeth rot, BB scarred their own face, Master got angry – Bad BB, bad…” No, no, no. They couldn’t start to lament now. Not when they had gone so far on the video, already, and trough some of the hardest part “Alvin gave BB a room with a  plain white dresser, four pairs of clothes and double of socks! BB knew them all by heart and cherished them, BB loved Alvin, loved him, loved him so, so, so much. 

But …Alvin wanted BB to be Blue, but wouldn’t tolerate it when BB got the knife and tried to make the change. BB watched the videos on repeat, hundreds, thousands of hours on end, BB could cite them by head!

But BB wasn’t Blue, and can never be. BB is unworthy, and no one could love me. BB was shoved in a car and Owner broke his promise – he decided not to keep me, he, he, h-he… He, he…”

BB closes their eyes, bites back a sob. They are almost done now, and even if they completely messed up the last part…. they can push through! They can still make a nice video… Maybe the audience will like that they can be a little emotive?

“...Shoved BB in a car, drove them to a dead end. Left them alone on the streets to fend for themselves. BB stayed there alone and scared and sad, hoping someone would come… Or that somehow, their pain would end. And then Paul and Reina appeared, finding the ugly pet on the streets. Reina said BB did look like Blue! So she wanted, she wanted BB too!” BB smiled a little. Reina was pretty. She gave me good headpats… But BB didn’t miss them a lot. Paul wasn’t so nice “Paul knew BB was worthless, but Reina still wanted BB. BB was taken to their house and for a short span of time, BB was pampered, happy and loved, an illusion that didn’t last. They figured BB was fun to hurt and start to get their way – not that BB cared, loved them all the same”

They turned around for a second, smiling at Pastel. This was something they’d truly love to talk about, for once.

“But the best part was that BB made a friend when living at their place. Pastel was his name! Pastel held BB and told me it would be okay. BB didn’t have to be Blue – they loved me either way. Pastel took punishment and tried to keep Master’s away. BB cuddled them to sleep and they loved each other! They did!” 

BB smiled at this, hugging the plush. One drop of joy, as small as it had been. One that wasn’t stripped away. But the show hadn’t ended.

“…Alas we got back to IF. IF my desired owner, the true maker of Blue, the one who could make BB worthy of love… If he had wanted to. He shoved BB in a cage and tortured Pastel instead, and it was so, so awfully cruel!” BB shook their head, lamenting “But last and not least, Master Fairyman appeared! He took BB and Pastel to live with him! And he has been so nice so far, giving BB colored books! Lovely, nice and nice! And Pastel Is with me too, BB don’t know how long it will last, but BB is so, so to be here with you!”

BB finished, looking back at Pastel and drawing a heart in the air with their fingers. Pastel… is tearing up. He jumps from the bed, not minding the camera anymore, and hugs BB. BB melts, leaning onto the hug. Soft. Kind. Loved. 

“BB…” He finally speaks, still not letting them go  “Did… Did you rehearse this?”

“Many times in BB’s head!” BB smiled. Many, many, many times, all those years… “Did it come out nice?”

“Yeah…” Pastel rested his head on BB’s shoulder, hugging them tight “I love you, you know?”

BB smiled.

“I know”

tagging: @summer-of-whump@pinkraindropsfell

[good-rwbyaus]

[ Prankster Summer Rose and Team STRQ’s beginnings as told by Qrow.]  - mod lilac

A small excerpt from the Schnee Fried Chicken vs Red Robin AU on the Frosen Steel Server, though this piece can be considered independent.] 

And thus Qrow regaled his two nieces with stories about Summer in school. 

 "Though getting married and taking care of you two made her chill out quite a bit, make no mistake that your mom was a horrible little hellion to the point where Beacon's Headmaster Ozpin once commented that he would rather resign than live through that period of his life again," Qrow laughed as he saw the expectant looks on Ruby and Yang.  

"Part of that was because Summer took getting flung off a launch pad at Initiation personally." 

--- 

"What do you mean by landing stra-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" 

--- 

"So Summer made it her personal mission in life to prank him to death," Qrow explained, "So for four years and thirty-two pranks in total, the Headmaster had suffered through having the legs of his chair cut so that he'd dramatically fall in place and give him a scare, his hot chocolate spiked with laxatives which was why he began carrying a thermos, the toilets in his room and nearby areas being loaded with either cherry bombs or colorless jello, a small device at the bottom of his cane that would only beep at random, delayed intervals which made him think he was developing a hearing problem, his bedroom door superglued shut, and various other inconveniences." 

His two nieces stared in awe, never having heard this side of their mother. 

"She was never really caught but by that time, everyone knew who was responsible, and that's because when Summer pranked everyone else, she didn't have any qualms about letting people know who did it. Hell, I'm pretty sure if the Headmaster had just asked, Summer would admit it to his face. But Oz was the type that never did anything unless he had concrete evidence, and Summer never left anything to find as a matter of professionalism." 

"What was Mom like with...the rest of her team?" Yang asked after some hesitation. Qrow looked over at Yang, knowing it was a roundabout way of asking about her birth mother.

"So my team...was your mom and dad and me and my sister, Raven. We were team STRQ, and we were the best of the best," Qrow said confidently before he tilted his up nose snootily with a shifty gaze. "And I was the bestest of all."

"Keep bragging," Yang retorted with a smirk. 

Ruby laughed. 

Qrow threw his hands up in exasperation. "Okay fine you caught me. Your mom scared me to death." More giggling from his nieces. 

"Seriously I think the bravest ones in my team are your dad and my sister for marrying her." The girls didn't bat an eye with the polyamory; after all, they were in a family of Hunters and Huntresses. It was pretty common. 

"So your mom ever do that thing where she smiles but it's not cause she's happy but because she's really mad," he gave an exaggerated shiver. 

A pair of nods. 

"Yeah, your mom did that to me and my sister on the very first day we made teams," Qrow said, "We kinda ganged up on her in a fight to become the leader of the gro--" 

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Qrow whined as his audience stared incredulously at him, "I was sixteen and dumb. Besides after I told you about your mom and the Headmaster, do you really think she suffered in silence?"

"...So what'd she do?" Yang asked expectantly with a smirk. 

"Well, first of all, the Headmaster made your mom leader in the first place. It's why it was named team STRQ." Qrow explained, "my sister and I didn't agree and so we decided to have a fair free-for-all." 

"Aaaand then we double-teamed your mom first." He ignored the again judging stares, "Naturally your mom complained, and I was stupid enough to tell her that everything's fair in war. My sister who shared my brand of stupidity agreed with her. And then your mom smiled and also agreed with me, thus we smugly thought we won. So... what did you think your mom did?" 

"She pranked ya to death!" Ruby laughed.

"Yup. Got in one, kiddo!” he ruffled Ruby’s hair, “For two weeks, we had to watch everything we eat, wear, and touch cause we were scared it was rigged with something. And it still wasn't enough. And because I was again young and dumb, I complained, and Summer threw my words back at me, "Everything's fair in war." And then gave me the not-smile, which I began to learn was the scariest thing ever." 

"What'd she do though?" Yang smirked and leaned in, clearly gleeful at his suffering. 

"Well...." Qrow said with an amused smirk as he counted his fingers , "I was subjected to itching powder in my clothes - my shirt, my socks, and my underwear which was awful, hair dye in my shampoo that turned pink in the sun, a stink bomb detonating when I blindly hit my alarm clock - though I think your mom suffered as much as I did with that one." He laughed, "Her words exactly were, as she was choking in our room, 'Okay. I didn't think this through...' But the one that convinced me to surrender was waking up on my bed in the middle of the fountain. At that point, I at least was smart enough to surrender when I did-"

"But not enough to not go against her in the first place," Yang cajoled. 

"Hey, we can't all be as smart as you brats are," Qrow laughed as he ruffled both their heads to varying complaints and smiles. 

"But I can at least say I was smarter than my sister who still didn't surrender after that. And that's when I discovered why the Headmaster made her the leader. Cause she's an evil genius - which is probably why she has such smart daughters." He smiled before continuing, "One time my sister got tagged by glitter bombs, and she saw your mom laughing right in front of her. So she started screaming murder and chased after your mom. Now given that it took the two of us to fight your mom, it probably wasn't smart on my sister's part, but seeing your mom run probably gave her a bit of confidence."

"And that's because she wanted to lead her to hell. Your mom rigged a section of the Emerald Forest with traps. I don't know how she got that many smoke or paint bombs, but the Emerald Forest became the Rainbow Forest in the span of a single day. " 

"The final straw was when Summer found these small Dust-powered Van de Graaff genera-" 

"Van de whaa?" Ruby asked. 

"You remember the science museum where there was this big orb with electricity inside it, and when you touched it, it made your hair go up? The one that made Yang looked like a blonde porcupine." 

"Hey!" 

"Well, Summer bought a bunch of portable Dust-powered ones, and she hid them everywhere. She even replaced our dorm's doorknob with one and painted it over to look like the doorknob. That combined with the week of utter paranoia and lack of sleep she's lived because Summer could finally focus her evil mind on one person, my sister finally raised the white flag," Qrow grinned. 

"I'm surprised that you all managed to get along after all that," Yang said after laughing at the mental imagery, "What happened?" 

"Well about that..." Qrow said with a somewhat embarrassed air, "My sis and I. You could say we were the bumpkiest of country bumpkins back then. The most we knew about fine cooking was throwing some meat and wild herbs in a pot and calling it a meal. Beacon's cafeteria was, to us at the time, amazing." 

"And then?"

"Well, your mom didn't have time to actually cook during those first three weeks cause she was too busy making our lives miserable," Qrow explained, "So after we surrendered, she promised no pranks and offered to make dinner. Admittedly, we were planning to be petty and saying whatever she cooked was bad, but..."

"When your mother brought out the spread from the dorm kitchen - juicy seasoned chicken that practically fell off the bone, soft fluffy bread fresh from the over, braised glistening savory pork, sweet chocolate chip cookies right out of the oven, I think we were too enraptured with the meal to make any complaints. And then we dug in. My sister almost ate herself sick." he laughed before adding with a smug tilt of his head, "I of course was more sophistica-" 

"Bull." 

The expected retort didn't come from the girls in front of him but from behind him. He turned around to see a smiling Tai who had just gotten in with several takeout bags. 

"Dad!" both girls excitedly scrambled to help out with the bags. 

"Don't believe your uncle," Tai laughed, "He pigged out most of all. At least Raven could walk back under her own power. We literally had to roll Qrow out of the dorm kitchen that day cause he couldn't even move! And he swore to behave as long as he could eat like this every day." 

"Ouch. Couldn't you leave me a little bit of my dignity, Tai?" Qrow faked grumpiness amidst the girls' peals of laughter. 

"There's no way you could have dignity left after we had to roll you across one floor and up a flight of stairs," Tai smirked, "Besides I think Summer said it best." He raised the pitch of his voice slightly in imitation while facepalming, "If I'd known I could buy you off with a well-made meal, I wouldn't have spent all that money on pranks."

[retvenkos]

survivors | d.m.

Harry Potter: Golden Trio Era - Draco x Slytherin! Halfbood!Reader, angst, slightest fluff

word count: 11.2k

tw: blood, mentions death, mentions of war, pessimistic ending

A/N: this could be read as a platonic reader, if you want.

Summary: Draco couldn’t fix the Vanishing Cabinet himself, no matter how hard he wanted to. (Y/n) hadn’t wanted to help him, but they decided to, despite themself. Neither knew each other very well, but there seemed to be an understanding. Perhaps they could fix it together, and perhaps (Y/n) could fix the broken boy, too. Or maybe both of them would be shattered beyond recognition.

i.

and i am angry at this world                 because i was not one of the innocent they decided to save.

ii.

During his sixth year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy didn’t feel as alive as he once did. This castle was colder and quieter than it used to be, and as he patrolled the dungeon corridors for his prefect duties, he felt a chill in the air; the cold pricked the back of his neck - that bit of exposed skin between the ends of his hair and the stiff collar of his uniform. Despite himself, he twitched at it’s touch; the cold reminded him of darker memories that threatened to pull him under, reminding him of what happened over the summer.

If he closed his eyes, he was still there.

The harsh clicking of his father’s cane as he walked down the hall, someone else accompanying him by the sound of their footsteps. A voice that sounded like the hissing of a snake - high and cold and beckoning him forth. His mother’s frightened gaze and his father’s stiff jaw. The soft pleads of protest. But who were they to defy the Dark Lord...

Draco could still hear the sound of their approach, echoing against these aged, stone walls. The incessant sound filled his senses. His fingers twitched. His arm started to burn as the sound of footsteps came nearer. Echoing, echoing, echoing...

“You would be an idiot if you weren’t such a genius.”

A voice, not at all what he was expecting, brought Draco reeling into the present. The footsteps weren’t that of phantom memories, but the sound of someone in the castle - in this dungeon with him - traversing the corridors in the few moments before curfew.

“You could make a fortune off of your skills if you sold them the right way. What other students here can make their own spells?”

Draco stepped closer to the wall, his interest peaked. He fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve, waiting for the voices to speak, once again. He wouldn’t scare them off. He had never been much good at being a prefect, anyway.

“Michael, we talked about this. They’re all a work in progress - do you remember what happened last time I tried them out? I won’t make a fool of myself because they aren’t perfect.”

“That was one time, and you knew things weren’t going to go well. And I can’t remember the last time Hogwarts pumped out an actually decent spell creator! The talented only come once every lifetime - you shouldn’t pass this up.”

The voices devolved into arguing for a moment, until one of them swore lowly. “It’s curfew. You need to get up to Ravenclaw Tower.”

“Think about it, (Y/n).”

“Go.”

Footsteps filled the corridor once again. Draco took a deft step backward, further into the shadows, and a fellow Slytherin rushed past the corridor, never noticing the prefect that watched them. Draco pushed his lips into a thin line, grey eyes narrowing just a bit. The echoes faded, and when the corridor was silent, he breathed. Running a hand through his hair, Draco turned away, disappearing into darkness and shadow.

iii.

When Draco Malfoy sat down next to them in Charms class, (Y/n) supposed it was an oversight. Rumors about Draco not feeling well had been circulating the Slytherin gossip lines for the whole two months that school had been in session; Malfoy had missed classes regularly, skipped out on meals completely, and seemed to be neglecting his usual bully behavior, trading it all for a personality that seemed to be more like that Blaise Zabini than the boy he used to be. Sitting next to (Y/n) had to be a symptom of this strange illness that seemed to have captured him - maybe he was too tired to care.

Yes, that seemed to be it - he was tired. He certainly looked it, when (Y/n) spared him a glance, their eyes flicking over to him for a half moment while Flitwick was demonstrating their lesson for the day.

There were dark circles under his eyes, a sort of gaunt appearance to his well shaped face, and even though he seemed to be very keen on stopping it, with his eyes focused the way they were, his hands seemed to be shaking, just slightly.

(Y/n) turned their attention back to the worn textbook in front of them, scratching notes on a spare bit of parchment. They tried to focus on the words written on the page, but their mind still wandered to the boy beside them.

Together, the two students’ thoughts swirled like winds in a tempest - never in one place at one time, but simultaneously everywhere. This world seemed to be pulling everyone in all possible directions, spreading them ever thin, as though trying to test when they would snap.

Both Slytherins, different as they were, weren’t the type to break.

Some days, they wished they were.

(Y/n) failed to notice the careful way Draco appraised them. His eyes flitted from their old school supplies to their mended robes, and yet the newness in other belongings that perhaps didn’t need to be bought anew every school year. (Y/n) eventually caught him staring, and Draco leveled his gaze with theirs.

“I need your help,” and even his voice resounded from his throat, as though he had no energy to sustain it in his chest.

(Y/n) blinked. Once, twice, three times. “I’m sorry?”

At the front of the classroom, Professor Flitwick was giving instruction on the Reducto curse, but his voice was fading into background noise, now, as (Y/n) stared at the boy beside them. Of all the things they could have guessed Draco Malfoy to say to them, that was not one.

“You know what I asked for.”

Again, he was tired - too tired to explain his baffling request, too tired to give any kind of context as to why he had come to them, or whatever he needed help for.

“My help?” They didn’t get so much as a sigh, which was interesting, to say the least. (Y/n) wanted to scoff, but they had to keep their voice low enough for the professor to not take notice. “Why would you- What purpose—” their mind eventually caught up with them ”—Why do you think I’d give it?”

“Because I’m—”

“Draco Malfoy, yes.” The scoff escaped them, agitation setting in. (Y/n) pulled their gaze away from the boy to turn back to the front of the classroom, eyes narrowing as they pretended to read the writing on the blackboard. “What would your father think of you getting help from the likes of me?” They all but spat their words under their breath.

Draco seemed to twitch uncomfortably at the mention of his father, but he played it off with a roll of his eyes - the first real reaction (Y/n) had got out of him the entire conversation. “He’d think it shrewd of me.”

“Like keeping your enemies close?”

“Like keeping allies near. Us Slytherins are all one big brotherhood, aren’t we?”

“I think you muddied those waters when you’re obsession with blood purity extended to belittling us halfbreeds.” (Y/n) fixed Draco with a withering stare. He looked down at the desk, scrutinizing the aging wood. His demeanor shifted to something deeper than what lay on the surface, and a wiser person would have stopped there, but (Y/n) couldn’t let it go. “Suddenly you want to be family?”

Draco breathed in deeply as though by expanding his chest and allowing for more oxygen, the tension between them would dissipate. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. The two lapsed into silence, and Professor Flitwick's voice floated over to the two of them, regaining precedence.

“It’s important to keep in mind this spell is very volatile. It’s unlikely you’ll get it correct on your first try…”

(Y/n) allowed themself to decompress, their shoulders dropping and their hands relaxing on the page of their textbook.

For what could Draco Malfoy possibly need their help? They weren’t even friends, but he had the gall to call them family.

“I’d settle for partners.”

The bell rang. Students around them started to pack up, hurrying to their next class. Draco didn’t move a muscle.

(Y/n) fixed him with a stare that betrayed their display of anger and showed some of the interest within. They picked up the bottle-green bag beside them. “Then I suppose that depends on how much you’ve changed over the summer,” they spat, already standing to leave.

“Quite enough, I think you’ll find.”

(Y/n) paused on their way out the door but resisted the urge to turn around, instead pushing forward through the bottlenecked door with renewed conviction.

Who did Draco Malfoy think he had become, asking for favors like they were old chums or something of the like? What did he even need help for, that he couldn’t ask his posse of loyal followers? That Blaise Zabini was smart, and Theo Nott wasn’t too bad, either. Of course, Theo was a halfblood too, so maybe Draco had managed to piss him off in his fourth year as well, when he started to sneer at halfbloods as though he were somehow greater than them. It wouldn’t be surprising, really, if Draco had somehow managed to alienate all of his “friends” in some way or another. He wasn’t known to have much of a filter with his thoughts.

Maybe that was what all of this was about. Draco had mentioned his father thinking their conversation was “shrewd” - maybe Lucius Malfoy had a little conversation with his son about not alienating the people around him. Perhaps there was a little father-son chat about revitalizing the family image with the Death Eaters and the rise of You-Know-Who being what it was. How quaint. Did they have him updating his father in person, too? Is that why he looked like he hadn’t slept since summer?

Part of (Y/n) insisted that they were being overdramatic about all of this and that they should get a hold of their emotions. No one was really at liberty of being emotional during times like these, and maybe, deep down, Draco really had become something that wasn’t beneath asking genuine help of someone without having ulterior motives.

After all, he had been tired - without real signs of deception or bigger purpose… and he was… shaking - as though genuinely nervous or afraid and.... and he had said something that made them stop in their tracks… that the summer had changed him “quite enough,” said with a sort of bitterness and resignation that was unlike any kind of Draco Malfoy (Y/n) knew…

(Y/n) slid into their Herbology seat with practiced ease, and when they went to grab their textbook, they came up with an Astronomy book, instead.

“What?”

(Y/n) didn’t have Astronomy, and this textbook was far too nice to be theirs. Maybe it belonged to their roommate? But then why was it in their bag? (Y/n) clearly had the right bag since they had pulled out their textbook in Charms, and—

(Y/n) flipped to the inside cover of the Astronomy textbook in front of them.

Property of Draco Malfoy.

Professor Sprout started the lecture just as (Y/n) swore under their breath.

Their Herbology partner turned to them questioningly, and (Y/n) asked to share their textbook for the day. Their partner complied readily enough and (Y/n) shot them a smile. The rest of the lesson, (Y/n) calculated the quickest way from the greenhouses to the Slytherin common room, where they would no doubt find Draco Malfoy skipping yet another meal and doing whatever it was that occupied his time. They had switched bags, somehow, and (Y/n) was keen on getting theirs back.

When Herbology was finally over, (Y/n) all but sprinted to the dungeons. Of all days for this to happen...

When they reached the steps that led down to the common room, they saw Draco Malfoy standing at the bottom. A book was in his hands, and as (Y/n) descended the stairs, they got a better look at it.

Their heart dropped.

Draco was flipping through the pages of a tiny, leatherbound book. It looked inconspicuous enough, a kind of journal that was old and weathered, but (Y/n) knew who it belonged to, and what was hidden inside.

It was (Y/n)’s spellbook - always stuffed to the bottom of their bag in case inspiration or genious struck All of their spells were in there - from the nearly refined to their half-baked disasters, every spell (Y/n) had ever had the idea to create was in that book, along with every failure. If Draco had looked at their disastrous attempts from third year...

“I’m not here for games, Draco.”

“Neither am I.” Draco held out the book to them and (Y/n) snatched it, also taking the school bag that was at his feet - no doubt theirs. “I only needed to check - Ravenclaws have a way of dramatizing things, and since you weren’t happy to help…”

“Check what?”

In the half-light, it was hard to tell what Draco was feeling, or at least, what he’d allow to show. But when he spoke, his voice still carried a fatigue that wore him down and made him appear as though without an agenda. “That you can help me.”

(Y/n) rolled their eyes. “Again, what makes you think that I will?”

“You need money, don’t you? I recognize signs of wear when I see them, and you were rather quick to get back your used textbooks - probably borrowed, since you don’t have any older siblings and our textbooks aren’t as old as our parents. The (L/n) family must have come into financial trouble recently,” Draco reported with a sigh, as though he found no glee in this run around of his. Was this the same boy who used to flaunt his observational prowess, making scathing remarks about the most minute details of others?

(Y/n) wanted to snap that they didn’t need his money, but they had enough common sense to not be proud. The Malfoys were one of the richest families at Hogwarts. If Draco was willing to pay... at least he would be good for the money… and he had been looking at their spellbook. If he needed a spell, it would be nice to experiment on someone else’s galleon, wouldn’t it?

(Y/n) swallowed. “What do you need?”

“A spell, and your secrecy.”

(Y/n) nodded slowly, still weighing their choices. They had nearly made up their mind, but something still ate at the back of their mind, like an itch that couldn’t be satiated. “Why did you think I’d help you?”

“I knew you would.” Draco fiddled with his sleeve. “Because you want to know my secret.”

iv.

When Draco said they were going to the Room of Hidden Things, (Y/n) hadn’t expected the room itself to be hidden. It would have been ridiculous, and yet, looking at it, everything seemed to make sense. The room only appeared when you asked for it, and it contained thousands of knick knacks, all sorted and piled on top of each other haphazardly, the facade of order.

If everything ever hidden lay within this room, (Y/n) wouldn’t be surprised. The room seemed to stretch off into infinity, the walls on either side disappearing behind stacks of lost things that reached impossibly high, never appearing to meet a back wall. Everything in the Room of Hidden Things was seemingly left to oblivion, stacked and scattered with no real rhyme or reason, things left behind and obliterated from memory. As they walked deeper in, (Y/n) found themself searching, as though there was something they needed to find.

If Draco felt the same urge, he hid it well, winding around piles of lost things like one would walk around their own home in the dark, completely aware of where everything was and able to avoid things that others tripped on.  (Y/n) found themself wondering, ‘How many times had he been in here?’

Draco stopped in front of a tall, imposing cabinet with wrought iron detailing. The black wood seemed so stark against the rest of the room that (Y/n) wondered how anyone could miss it, and yet, if they turned their head as to put it in their periphery, the cabinet seemed to disappear.

Funny, how it could be there, but not.

After a moment, (Y/n) was able to place why it looked so familiar. The Vanishing Cabinet. Why was it here, of all places?

“It’s broken and no mending charms have worked on it - not even in conjunction with others.”

(Y/n) nodded, opening the door to the cabinet and taking a look inside. So that’s the kind of spell he needed.

“You probably heard about Montague getting stuck in a kind of limbo last year when the Weasley twins shoved him in.”

“So it has a twin.” It was more a statement than a question, but when (Y/n) caught Draco’s eye, they found an affirmative answer that almost looked guilty. (Y/n) turned away, rifling through their bag to find their creation book.

(Y/n)’s mind was flitting about, again, trying to call up all the information they had ever learned about passageways and vanishing cabinets, mending spells and charms. To modify a spell would probably be too simple for the complexities of a Vanishing Cabinet. They would have to start from scratch. (Y/n) flipped to the page where they wrote down the methodology of apparition spells. Maybe the answer lay within the creation of the spell rather than the outcome. Apparition spells might apply to the spontaneity of the Cabinet...

Draco handed (Y/n) a book or two that were clearly ancient, the pages themselves written in fading ink.

“I found these in that pile—” he gestured to a stack of books that reached into the heavens “—they’re the only decent information I’ve found so far.”

(Y/n) nodded and moved to sit on the floor, placing the books carefully in front of them. Draco retreated to the base of the tower of books, picking up a few that were scattered around a large chair that caught (Y/n)’s eye. It seemed out of place - pulled from the pile of furniture that was closer to the entrance and devoid of the thick layer of dust that seemed to permeate everything in this haven of the lost.

After a moment, (Y/n) realized it as a makeshift bed - a blanket that looked like it once belonged to a Hufflepuff thrown over the arm, a stack of clothes next to the chair, and Draco’s bag hanging from it.

How often was he in here?

(Y/n) turned their gaze back to the Vanishing Cabinet before them, trying not to dwell on what the Slytherin Prince had become. They had a job to do; a Vanishing Cabinet needed fixing.

But why, of all things, a Vanishing Cabinet?

“Planning on disappearing, Malfoy?” Their tone was light, playful. (Y/n) turned to face him, and he was stock still.

Draco didn’t respond, just looked at the cabinet with an intensity that seemed to bring the weight of the word onto his shoulders. He tugged at his left sleeve, and for a fleeting moment, an answer was swimming in his eyes.

‘Yes.’

v.

It had been around two weeks since (Y/n) had been first introduced to the Vanishing Cabinet, and ever since, their evenings were spent in the Room of Hidden Things, their attention split between homework and the puzzle before them.

One part of them was intent on creating the right spell. If they were able to do it correctly, this new spell could be revolutionary, potentially changing the way mending spells were thought of for years to come. With the way that Vanishing Cabinets worked, it wasn’t just the cabinet that needed to be fixed, or the passageway in between, but the space that was warped when the door to the cabinet was closed. It was mystifying, to say the least, and the possibilities were endless.

Another, more nagging side of (Y/n) was intent on figuring out why Draco needed a Vanishing Cabinet in the first place. What purpose did he require of it? Better yet, what purpose could it serve? The possibilities for this, too, could be infinite.

“(Y/n)? Are you listening?”

Michael Corner, their friend of six years, bumped his shoulder into theirs. They were walking to Potions, and he had been chatting about how he hadn’t seen them in a while - not since they started slipping out of the Great Hall early after dinner.

“Yes - you think I’ve been trying to perfect my failed spells from third year and I’m too proud to tell you that I actually do listen to your advice.”

Michael grinned. “So… are you?”

“I am working on my spells, if that’s what you’re after.”

“And have you taken my advice on selling them?”

(Y/n) thought for a moment. After all, they were getting paid for what they were doing for Draco, so technically a ‘yes’ would be appropriate. But if Michael started to ask who bought it and for what reasons, (Y/n) wouldn’t be able to say.

“Maybe,” they said, lamely.

It seemed to be enough for Michael, though, and he talked excitedly about the possibilities as they made their way into the Potions classroom. (Y/n) approached their seat and Michael groaned. “It sucks that Slughorn assigned us partners. I’m stuck with Hermione Granger and, well, you know how she is. Potions could be so much better if we got to choose who we work with.”

(Y/n) sat down in their seat, sighing before fishing for their textbook in their bag. “You’re not the one stuck with Malfoy,” they deadpanned as usual, but the words didn’t fit as naturally in their mouth as they once did.

“Yeah, but when does he even show up to class, anymore?” For emphasis, Michael slid into the Slytherin’s assigned seat.

The two devolved into their usual banter, talking about common interests and idiotic assignments. Professor Slughorn walked into the room two minutes or so before class started and when Michael swore, he fixed him with a stare. Things were as they always were, but then something changed.

 Draco Malfoy walked into the classroom, and Michael was surprised, but quick to slip out of his seat. He chose to hover near (Y/n)’s end of the table, and while he was careful not to stare, his eyes flicked to Draco. He wasn’t the only one; the whole class seemed to notice Draco’s presence, but Malfoy seemed to be avoiding the production of it all - very unlike him. The pallor in his skin didn’t seem to be getting worse, but the melancholic air that seemed to follow him was palpable.

Any day, now, the rumors would get worse and the speculation would start. What was eating at Draco Malfoy?

(Y/n) had been working with him closely for two weeks, now, and even they weren’t any closer to figuring out the truth.

Harry Potter seemed to have particularly keen eyes, whispering to his friends without losing eye contact.

The whole of Hogwarts seemed to be holding its breath, unsure of what was to come, but anticipating how bad the storm was going to be. Michael tried to ignore the shift in demeanor, nudging (Y/n) with his arm.

“I’m still surprised that Harry Potter ended up getting the Felix Felicis - I was honestly expecting Padma or Hermione to get it. Since when is Harry a potion making prodigy?”

Beside (Y/n), Draco stiffened. (Y/n) let out a puff of air like a subdued scoff and Michael smiled. So the Potter-Malfoy rivalry was still going strong.

Michael scratched out a note on a spare bit of parchment and stuck it in (Y/n) textbook with a conspiratorial wink. “I’ll go see if I can snag some of Potter’s notes, yeah? Maybe he can spare a bit of genius.”

With that he was off, and (Y/n) rolled their eyes before turning to the front of the classroom. Draco was still on edge beside them, his shoulders taut and head bowed in such a way that (Y/n) couldn’t catch his eye.

It was later, when (Y/n) was flipping through their textbook to the instructions for the potion they were to make, that they found the note Michael had left behind.

‘At least you know you have something to make his blood boil.’

vi.

“We’re going to need space,” (Y/n) muttered to Draco. They had agreed to meet by the statue of Lachlan the Lanky when going to the Room of Hidden Things, and Draco was already there when (Y/n) arrived. “Testing out this spell could be dangerous in such a cluttered space - the entire room could be destroyed.”

Draco nodded deftly and (Y/n) could tell by the way his eyes narrowed that he was thinking of a way to fix their problem. It had been a little over a month since the two started to work together, and after being Potions and Alchemy partners, working beside each other during their free period, and spending their nights in front of the Vanishing Cabinet, the two knew each other better than they cared to admit. (Y/n) still held fast to the idea that they were acquaintances at most, but there were times when they saw him in the Room of Hidden Things, sitting on the chair he used for a bed, and they knew what he was thinking. Acquaintances couldn’t do that, could they?

Draco walked past a section of the corridor three times, his perpetually tired expression furrowed into concentration, and the vanishing door appeared. As soon as they could, the two Slytherins ushered themselves in. This time, they were met with a bright light.

(Y/n) blinked furiously, and when their eyes adjusted, they realized they were looking at the sky.

Bright blue and without clouds, the sky seemed to mimic that of a summer’s day. The sun that beat down was a welcome change from the cold winds of December, and (Y/n) let the warmth fill them as they took in the view. The Room of Hidden Things had somehow shifted into a vast, open field that was full of tall, yellowing grass.

The field seemed to stretch into oblivion, never quite ending as it reached a horizon point. (Y/n) felt something like calm wash over them. This place carried a mixture between knowledge and peace. A little ways out, but close enough to be identified were the only two things that upset the sprawling landscape - a willow tree with low hanging branches, far more serene than the Whomping Willow that Hogwarts students were familiar with, and the Vanishing Cabinet.

“What is this place?” (Y/n) still gaped at what lay around them, eyes eagerly taking in every color that seemed to bleed in the way a painting would.

“The Room of Requirement is whatever you need it to be.”

“And the Room of Hidden Things…?”

“Inside it.”

Draco looked worse, somehow, in the full light of the sun; his skin was more pale, like death had already touched him and all he had left to do was walk to his grave. (Y/n) couldn't look long.

The two started toward the Vanishing Cabinet. (Y/n) felt the distinct urge to put their hands out to feel the grass brush against their skin, to see just how real this beautiful illusion was. If the room could create this, what else could it fathom?

If (Y/n) could stay here forever, would this room create a reality beautiful enough to keep them?

(Y/n) sat their bag down a few paces away from the Vanishing Cabinet and rolled up their sleeves. Draco retreated to the foot of the weeping willow. (Y/n) checked it to make sure that it stood far enough away from the blast zone. It seemed alright.

(Y/n) placed a spare bit of parchment into the Cabinet and took a few steps back.

“Harmonia Nectere Deambulatio!”

(Y/n) turned their wrist precisely and grey wisps of light illuminated from the tip of their wand. The Vanishing Cabinet before them lurched forward abruptly and (Y/n) staggered a few steps backward. The Cabinet righted itself and after a few moments of hesitantly watching it to see if the cabinet would be pitching itself to and fro once more, (Y/n) quickly approached and opened it.

The paper inside was far worse than what they expected; the parchment shredded and burning, as though it did some acrobatic routine for the circus with very poor aim. (Y/n) quickly doused the flames and turned back to their book, scratching out the failed attempt.

(Y/n) sighed and started again, trying out a few variations of the spell they had already drafted up, praying that one of them would work. After an hour or so of the Vanishing Cabinet turning out botched attempts, (Y/n) decided they needed to rethink the spell itself, and not the delivery.

This wasn’t their first spell to go wrong, but it was definitely the hardest, since gauging what needed to be fixed was near impossible. (Y/n) figured that it had to be the passage between each Cabinet. The slicing of the paper was most likely a failure to use the passage - it was torn on its way to the other cabinet and when fragmented, couldn’t be supported through the warping of space, so it was spit back out and was lit on fire from the friction.

(Y/n)’s focus, then, should shift from the spontaneity of the Vanishing Cabinet and work on the passage rather than the walk through it. It was the space between that needed warping… perhaps they should look at their notes of Transfiguration spells, they were particularly good at warping space… a safe bet, too, since Transfiguration was fairly testable and not overly theoretical, compared to other spells...

(Y/n) looked at one of the books Draco had given them a week prior. From what those books taught, tangibles were off the table with Vanishing Cabinets. A safe bet might not fix anything. But anything else might be more risk than it was worth...

Maybe a principle of Alchemy could be used. Transmutation might be the key - not shifting the length of the passage, but shifting the properties of the passage, making it safer to traverse… of course, transmutation spells were highly dangerous when not perfected, and seeing as most of the creation of their spell had to be theory rather than tested reality...

Both (Y/n) and Draco would have to be very sure it was the route they wanted to take, and then they would have to be incredibly careful. Especially in a room where space itself warped… if anything went wrong, the spell could kill both of them.

(Y/n) had never been the best at Alchemy, but Draco was a prodigy when it came to the subject. It was one of the few classes he showed up for, anymore, and since (Y/n) had gotten better at reading him, they noticed that Draco actually took interest in the subject. He seemed to be fascinated by the idea that one thing could be made into something completely different with dedication and patience.

But how much could (Y/n) trust Draco? He hadn’t screwed them over, yet, but would he, eventually? Maybe it was only a matter of time…

But, then again, what did he stand to gain?

Both of them were working day and night to solve this problem. Draco may not have fully understood how spells were made, but his research was invaluable, and there was no way either could do it on their own. Fixing a Vanishing Cabinet was improving upon Ancient Magic, all of which was confusing and uncertain, to say the least. There was a reason why there were few Vanishing Cabinets in existence, and a reason as to why Dumbledore didn’t fix the Cabinet himself. It’s near impossible. There’s no way Draco could do it on his own.

He needed (Y/n), and he seemed to know it, too.

(Y/n) sighed and walked over to the willow tree where Draco sat, calling out to him, their voice faint, like it would be in a real, empty field. They parted the tall grass as they went, feeling the scratch of it on their legs and arms. The sun seemed to have dipped lower in the sky, but the suspension of time that the Room of Requirement always held still stood. (Y/n) could only guess how long they’d been here - a few hours, maybe - but it didn’t feel like it had been long enough.

“We’ll have to shift our theory - I think the basis of this spell has to be Alchemical properties or at the very least Transfiguration. It’s tricky, though, since this magic is so old…”

Draco was asleep, a book from the Room of Hidden Things opened on his stomach. He looked disheveled, pale blonde hair mussed up, his robes in disarray. His sleeves, always pulled low, were starting to ride up on his left arm and (Y/n) could see the skin beneath, pink and rubbed raw, as though he scratched and agitated the length of his forearm all day long.

(Y/n) sat down beside him, far enough away as to give him privacy, and yet close enough so that neither was alone. The field around them suddenly felt more exposed than before - (Y/n) understood why Draco chose to sit underneath the tree; the low hanging branches of the willow tree created a sense of security - like they could hide, if they had to.

Draco had nightmares. It didn’t take long to realize that - he twitched and fidgeted in his sleep, expression twisting into something torn between fear and pain. (Y/n) wanted to wake him from his spell, but when they looked at him and saw the pallor of his skin and the circles underneath his eyes, they knew it was best to keep him resting.

Sometimes you fight a war on two fronts, and there is no escaping it. Draco needed to rest. And who was (Y/n) to decide whether the terrors of sleeping or waking were worse?

At some point, they must have fallen asleep, too, because they awoke to Draco shaking their shoulder, his eyes averted and his hands cold. The painted sun had dipped over the nonexistent horizon, and the moon was out.

“We need to go. It’s after curfew.”

(Y/n) stood up and smoothed out their uniform, nodding deftly.

“I’m a prefect, so just follow my lead and no one will ask questions.”

vii.

“We’ll try out the transmutation theory.”

(Y/n) pulled their gaze away from their Charms essay to stare up at Draco incredulously. It was nearing midnight, and with most of the students being gone for the holiday, the Slytherin common room was empty.  Draco had just entered and was on his way to the dormitories, but he stopped on his way and spoke to (Y/n) in a low tone.

“You know the risks, right?” Draco just stared pensively into the fire that blazed beside them. “Are you willing to die for this?”

Maybe it was the flames that threatened tears to his eyes. “I’m dead, either way.”

viii.

The bell rang, signaling the end of Transfiguration, and the classroom erupted with life, people closing their books and racing out the door. As far as last classes went, Transfiguration was okay, but at the end of the day, everyone wanted to get out as quickly as possible. Michael nudged (Y/n) when he was shoving off, reminding them to grab some dinner before they holed themselves up for the evening. (Y/n) shot back a retort and he flipped them off as he left, earning a scolding from McGonagall.

“Sorry, professor.”  Michael ducked his head apologetically, but when McGonagall turned around, he caught (Y/n)’s eye and winked.

(Y/n) rolled their eyes, shoving a quill in their bag as McGonagall fixed her attention to them. “(Y/n) (L/n).”

The Slytherin snapped to attention. “Yes, professor?”

“Would you remind Mr. Malfoy that he still has my class, even if he chooses not to attend?” McGonagall took a step closer and (Y/n) held their gaze, more surprised than anything else. “It’s not imperative he show for lessons, but he does need to turn in his work if he expects to continue with this subject.”

(Y/n) was caught off guard. “O-Of course.”

“He is slated to take Transfiguration next year, and N.E.W.T.s will not be kind to those who don’t dedicate themselves.” McGonagall looked at (Y/n) over the top of her glasses, seemingly more stern than before. “I know you and Mr. Malfoy are close - perhaps you will be able to motivate him.”

(Y/n) shrugged their bag onto their shoulders, a little too eager to leave. McGonagall seemed to take note, but waited patiently for (Y/n) to speak. “Oh, um… Draco and I are just partners in class.”

McGonagall pressed her lips into a thin line. Was it… amused? Knowing? “I’ve heard, you frequently meet up by the statue of Lachlan the Lanky, as well.” Her eyes still carried that intensity. Perhaps her gaze was more of a warning.

(Y/n) looked down and swallowed, mind racing. “I’ll tell him, professor.”

“Thank you.”

(Y/n) walked out of the classroom, and it wasn’t until they were in the dungeons that they dared to breathe. McGonagall's words were inconspicuous enough, but it was the way she said it that struck (Y/n) to the core. If McGonagall knew about them meeting up at the statue, what else did she know? Maybe it wasn’t much, but she felt justified to bring it up. And in that tone…

She could know anything, maybe even more than (Y/n) - and if McGonagall knew, surely Dumbledore did, as well.

When they entered the Slytherin common room, Draco was inside, sitting with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. They were talking in hushed tones, and the concern in their gaze was palpable. If it has been a few months ago, (Y/n) would have pretended like they hadn’t seen anything and gone avoided their stare. But now, they just pressed forth.

At the sight of (Y/n) approaching, Pansy stood and pulled Blaise with her, putting a hand on Draco's shoulder before leaving. (Y/n) locked eyes with the two retreating figures and there was something grateful in their stares.

(Y/n) averted their gaze.

“Draco,” (Y/n) sat down on a couch across from him and kept their voice low. “I think Professor McGonagall knows.”

Draco was careful not to show interest in his body language, but his eyes were sharp, wary. (Y/n) leaned in a bit, telling him all that happened, recalling the strange way that McGonagall looked at them and how she knew where they met up. The shadows of the fire played against Draco’s gaunt features, making him look almost ghostlike as he listened intently.

“The only reason I could see her keeping tabs on you is because of that rumor Harry Potter is spreading about you giving that cursed necklace to Katie Bell.” (Y/n) shook their head, blinking and they missed the way that Draco froze at the mention. “But either way, we need to be more careful.”

For a moment, the two just sat in silence, eyes intent on their hands as they tried to see a place beyond this present. Both were unaware of what the other was thinking, and yet they both wished the same - that is world would stop around them - if only for a moment.

The fire behind them raged and the voices of those surrounding them didn’t cease.

(Y/n) sighed and tipped their head back, looking at the glass ceiling above them, dark waters rippling from the movement of merfolk and the Giant Squid. What would it feel like to be suspended for your whole life, never coming up for air? Peaceful, perhaps.

“Don’t worry about the professors.” Draco spoke suddenly, and (Y/n) sat up to find him mimicking their actions, still looking up at the lake, his hands fidgeting with the sleeves of his button-up. “They know perfectly well they could stop us if they wanted to. They could know everything if they wanted. But they don’t.” There was a bitterness in his tone that seeped in slowly, then all at once. “They don’t meddle in anything I do. They don’t concern themselves with us. They don’t—”

Draco cut himself short. (Y/n) looked at him for a minute, their expression soft but broken - a little wondering. The wondered if they understood Draco a little more - maybe they recognized that anger, simmering on low, the fire just able to be sustained but burning out.

“They don’t save us, do they?” and it was a whisper, but it felt earth shattering.

Draco sighed, his eyes fluttering closed. “Not us.”

ix.

On Wednesday nights, Alchemy students were expected to go up to the 16th turret where classes were usually held to do an extra lesson. Part of their curriculum required the moonlight filtering through stained glass to complete, and Slughorn said there was no way around it. It was the only night of the week when Draco and (Y/n) didn’t go to the Room of Requirement to work on their project, the only night when they breathed just a little easier.

The sky was lighter than the usual inky night. The moon was full and brightly reflecting, and it’s solemnity in the sky was a stark contrast to Professor Slughorn’s excitement as he flitted about, giving instructions on how to complete the assignment. There were a few stars that managed to twinkle in the sky, and (Y/n) found themselves transfixed by them, wishing they were admiring the night sky for stargazing, instead of work

It was much easier, admiring something from a distance; dealing with things closer to the ground was heavier on the heart - it took more of a toll.

Draco worked beside them quietly. Things between them usually were quiet, with the occasional word or moment of recognition in the heart of the other. Questions weren’t usually welcome, but (Y/n) could sneak in a few, every once in a while. Especially during Alchemy; Draco was more relaxed up here - almost content.

Slughorn went over to Padma Patil at the front of the classroom, leaving the pair of Slytherin’s in shared solitude.

“I can’t imagine you’re sleeping well, in the Room of Hidden Things.” (Y/n) whispered so no one would hear, sure to make their tone soft, unlike anything that might set the other into a mood. Draco turned to them for a moment, impassive, but didn’t say a word. (Y/n) tried again. “I realize the Cabinet’s important, but enough to sacrifice your health? Why?”

More silence. There had been a time (Y/n) wouldn’t have minded.

“Can’t you tell me anything?”

Draco’s jaw flexed, and he was so thin it stuck out more than normal, sharp with a jagged edge. (Y/n) eyed him with a guarded expression of their own, allowing silence to lapse between them as Slughorn walked by. He checked on their progress with an impressed hum, and once the professor was out of earshot, (Y/n) interrogated Draco once more.

“I just want to know something - this is dangerous for me, too.”

Draco seemed hesitant. After a moment, he spoke, “I have to do this,” he whispered, almost more to himself than anyone else.

“I don’t understand why.”

“No, you don’t.” Draco looked at them sharply but (Y/n) wasn’t one to back down. His eyes flicked around the room, as if to see if anyone noticed his sudden movement, but no one seemed to take note. Still, Draco turned back to his work, shooting his next words out of the side of his mouth, eyes blazing with something that was white-hot, but not anger. “And you wouldn’t.”

“So I get to do your dirty work, but without an explanation? Did you forget we’re being watched?” (Y/n) shook their head, expression tight with anger.

“If I don’t do this, I’ll die. Is that a good enough explanation for you?” Draco’s jaw twitched and (Y/n) heaved a sigh, through with his dramatics. Every day it got worse and Draco didn’t seem to be opening up anytime soon. It was exhausting, and for what? A few Galleons? A feeling like they were somehow helping him? 

A secret? Draco was fiddling with his left sleeve, again, and (Y/n) had the familiar feeling that they already knew the answer to any question they might ask.

The rest of the evening wore on in silence. Both Slytherins were tense with emotion, thoughts swirling around them, the tension in the air almost thick enough to taste. Occasionally, the sounds of others wafted towards them - Slughorn’s footsteps, excited whispers, low swears and were quickly reprimanded - but neither spoke a word or did so much as to spare the other a glance. Eventually, Slughorn dismissed everyone, walking out himself, and the only two left were Draco and (Y/n).

(Y/n) stood up and gathered their things, and after a moment's hesitation, faced Draco with a guarded stare. They breathed in, “I’m going to figure out what’s happening, Draco. But I’m not going to like it if I have to figure it out on my own.”

With that, (Y/n) turned to leave. But before they could walk away, Draco had caught their arm. (Y/n) turned back around with a sigh. He was standing, now, and the moonlight that filtered through the stained glass window drowned him in deep shades of red. 

“Do you know my family’s allegiance in this war?”

(Y/n) felt their blood turn cold. “Well, I…” they stammered, “I figured—”

“Then you have your explanation,” he cut them off bitterly,  and was quick to look away, releasing his hold on them and cleaning up his things.

(Y/n) blinked. Once, twice, three times. Tightening their grip on their bag, they walked towards the door to open it, but their hand rested on the knob. Their mind was like a tempest - never in one place at one time, but simultaneously everywhere, trying to remember everything they had ever believed in and everything they thought they knew.

“We’re meeting again tomorrow, right?” And (Y/n) hated the way their voice sounded; soft and unsure. They looked back to see Draco - really see him - but his expression was just as conflicted as ever, just as pained and stiff and grasping. It was almost as though he were drowning in his own sin, bloody and red.

After a moment, he nodded, grey eyes pausing, for once, never leaving theirs.

“Then I’ll meet you there.”

x.

Draco passed (Y/n) the apple and they set it down in the middle of the Vanishing Cabinet, it’s lively green skin stark against the black cabinet. They shut the door carefully, and took a step back.

Yesterday, for the first time in their five months of working together, a piece of parchment Vanished properly. After three different theories on the spell, about 12 different spell variations, and many late nights, it was finally working. There was a sort of peace in that, and yet something akin to dread seemed to settle in the air - almost thicker than the dust that permeated the Room of Hidden Things.

Draco seemed to feel it, too. His weight seemed to settle heavier in his bones, his entire essence dragged downward, somewhere where he couldn’t be found. They weren’t going to be saved by anyone but themselves, but sometimes it seemed Draco didn’t have the fight in him. Not anymore.

His hands were shaking, and the boy made to fix the cuffs of his sleeves. (Y/n) reached out and grabbed his hand and he turned to them, sharply. (Y/n) didn’t say anything, just squeezed his hands once, then let go. His hands stilled.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

It was best done as a whisper, with the slightest curl of the wrist. The light was soft and melancholic. The Vanishing Cabinet didn’t make a sound nor shudder, just stood there, imposing as ever.

Draco opened the cabinet. It was empty.

Despite themselves, both smiled.

He closed the door.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

The wrought iron was cold as (Y/n) pulled the cabinet open, once more. They picked up the apple, same as before, and it was perfect. (Y/n) turned back to Draco and gave him a solemn nod. He walked over to the bird cage that stood beside his makeshift bed, pulling out the white songbird within. It sang.

Draco closed the door.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

The singing stopped, and (Y/n) didn’t need to open the door to know that it worked. But they did, and the cabinet was empty. When the cabinet was secured again, and all that was left was to say those three words, they both hesitated. The two Slytherin’s stared at each other, unwilling to breathe in fear that it might not work.

Or worse, maybe it would.

Draco lifted his wand slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was thick, but each word carefully crafted. “Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

The silence was deafening. Draco’s eyes flicked to (Y/n), and when he saw his own fears reflected in their gaze, he swallowed hard.

Inside, the bird was dead, it’s tiny, white body sitting in a sea of darkness. (Y/n) picked it up, knowing they had to determine how it died to fix what had gone wrong when it rematerialized. When the bird was cupped in their hand, it’s body was still warm.

They turned around and Draco was crying.

xi.

The Room of Hidden Things was a maze. Without windows or any real sense of the passage of time, tit could feel claustrophobic and dense. The candles and torches the endless room used for light threw long shadows and at times, there was something lonely about the place. On occasion, though, when (Y/n) and Draco spent afternoons amongst the clutter and set candles near them, the room could feel cozy - maybe even warm.

The two had been working quietly for a half hour or so when (Y/n) felt the itch to ask a question. As always, they pondered letting it pass, but their curiosity got the better of them. They set their quill down and turned to look at the boy across from them. “Tell me something about Draco Malfoy that no one else knows."

Draco, used to questions by now and in a better mood than most days, didn’t bother to look up, but responded, anyway. “Why?”

“You learned a few secrets of mine when you skimmed my spell creation book. It’s only fair that I get to use something against you.”

“You know about this place.”

(Y/n) looked at him unimpressed, but still, Draco didn’t raise his head. They sighed. “Give me something more than that. Technically, this is my secret, too.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but his quill stopped scratching, and he closed the textbook before him. “Like what?”

“Like…” (Y/n) shrugged as Draco watched them, his grey eyes lighter than usual, less filled with the weight of all things. “Alright, I’m allergic to pumpkin, but I wanted to try pumpkin juice so badly in our first year that I had to go to the infirmary on the first day of school—” (Y/n) was smiling at the memory, and it was the first bit of happiness they had allowed themself to have for a while. “—it was nothing too bad, and Madam Pomfrey was quick to fix me up, but I couldn’t taste for the next week. A real shame, too, seeing as the first few feasts are always the best.”

Draco’s lips were pressed into a thin line, only the very edges curling upwards, so slightly anyone else would have missed it. A genuine smile. (Y/n) was proud of themself for having coaxed it out of him. Funny, how much they had started to care.

“Something idiotic, then?” and the lilt to his voice was almost amused.

(Y/n) rolled their eyes. “You have to have something.”

Draco thought for a moment and (Y/n) watched him as he tried to pull a memory. They noted how much younger he looked, here, in a light dim enough to be considered conspiratorial, but bright enough to be distinct from the rest of their existence. It was almost as though they belonged here, two more lost things in a sea of used belongings.

“I tried to grow out my hair like my father’s in the summer before our first year.” Draco’s voice was soft in reminiscing, but it grew louder with fondness. “A cousin told me I looked like a girl and I cut it off that same night. My mother fixed it for me in the morning, right before we went to Diagon Alley.”

(Y/n) let out the ghost of a chuckle, but when Draco joined them, their laugher grew, echoing through the endless room.

xii.

“So... tell me, is Slytherin gossip really just made up of lies, or are you actually hanging out with Draco Malfoy? Is that where you’ve been sneaking off to?”

Michael and (Y/n) walked side by side, catching up for the first time all week. They had been heading to lunch when Michael realized he left his quill and ink in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, so the two decided to take the walk back together. Somehow, their conversation landed on gossip around the school, and of course, Michael had to bring up Draco.

(Y/n), used to dodging questions by now, simply rolled their eyes. “I don’t know, did you actually join a secret army last year and not tell me about it?”

“I already told you that Harry himself didn’t want any Slytherin’s involved. How was I expected to go against the Boy Who Lived?” Michael defended himself poorly but passionately, pushing his dark hair out of his face. Suddenly, his narrowed. “But yes, I did. So does that mean you’re admitting to hanging out with the Slytherin Prince?”

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s only because we’re partners in Potions and Alchemy. Slughorn has this weird thing about classroom symmetry.”

Michael chuckled at (Y/n)’s annoyance, but continued pressing in the way that only a Ravenclaw could successfully pull off. “Then do you know what’s wrong with him? There are bets going around, and I just put down 8 Sickles on him having some rare illness that Pomfrey doesn’t know how to heal.”

“Is him being a werewolf one of the theories?”

“It was, actually,” (Y/n) snorted and Michael turned around to face them, walking backwards down the hall, “But after Padma saw him in Alchemy class during the full moon, the idea was thrown out. Seamus Finnigan lost a Galleon or two.”

“Any other ingenious ideas?”

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but was bumped into abruptly by Harry Potter, walking the other way with a bewildered and shocked expression. He reeled backward and Michael apologized, but all Harry did was nod absentmindedly before continuing down the corridor, walking quickly as though trying to create some sort of distance.

“Weird.” Michael huffed, watching Potter as he retreated. The two friends shared a confused glance before continuing down the hall, and after a few steps, (Y/n) slipped on something slick.

The floors were wet with Harry Potter’s trailing footprints. (Y/n) looked at Michael and they both had the same, strange urge.

Follow them.

The two set off down the hall, neither speaking a word as they followed the trail. No one else was in the corridor but them, and the sound of rushing water filled the corridor as they got ever nearer. The footsteps led to the boys bathroom, which must have busted a pipe or two, judging by the flooding. Inside, someone was muttering a healing incantation, their voice echoing with a concentrated sort of aggression. Michael looked at (Y/n) questioningly before stepping inside, calling out.

“Hey, is everything alright in here?”

The bathroom was a disaster, but in the middle of the floor was Draco Malfoy, still and lying in a pool of his own crimson blood. Professor Snape was crouched over him, trying in vain to stop the bleeding as it drenched his shirt and dissipated into the water around him. (Y/n) stood rooted to the spot, their breath coming in short and their heart pounding their chest. They couldn’t take their eyes off of him, life ebbing away from him, the only indication that he was still alive being his laboured gasps.

They wouldn’t sustain him for long.

“Get. Out.” Snape looked at the two with a ferocity and Michael turned to leave, tugging on (Y/n)’s arm with an expression that was seemingly everything at once - pouring forth from busted pipes, flowing down the corridors...

For a moment, (Y/n) didn’t feel in control of their own limbs. Michael called their name, an urgency lacing his tone, and (Y/n) blinked. Once, twice, three times. The world came into focus. They shook their head. 

“Go,” they whispered, and it only took a precisely aimed stare to get Michael to disappear.

Snapped out of their daze, (Y/n) rushed forward, kneeling beside Draco and ignoring the professors command to leave. Their hands shook as the pulled their wand out from their newly soaked bag, but they uttered a healing spell under their breath - something they had created in their fourth year - praying to Merlin that Draco would live.

Snape stared at them for a sharp moment, with a look that seemed to be knowing and confused at the same time.

Together, the blood that they were kneeling in made its way back into Draco’s body, but the wound - a deep gash on his abdomen - still wouldn’t close. When Snape said he needed to take Draco to the Hospital Wing, (Y/n)’s clothes were drenched and their face was damp with tears they hadn’t realized they wept.

(Y/n) trailed after the professor, not caring they were missing class, their mind still hyper focused on Drac’s survival. They had never seen so much blood outside the body. And with him lying on the flooded floor... how much had escaped him? He would have bleed out, had noone arrived sooner...

Madam Pomfrey didn’t allow (Y/n) to hover while she worked, so the Slytherin sat outside the heavy doors, still dripping with water but not caring as they tried to calm their breathing. They would be waiting outside when Pomfrey finally allowed visitors, and when they Draco again, they couldn’t afford to let their fear show so plainly.

Slowly, their body returned to something fit for survival - worried but functional. Their heart rate was erratic, and their jaw no longer trembled. (Y/n) dried themselves off and waited, sliding down the wall until they sat with their back pressed against it.

They wouldn’t leave until they knew Draco was okay. They couldn’t leave him.

Not like this.

Snape was allowed to wait inside, possibly helping the Healer, and two agonizing hours later, the doors opened and the professor stepped out. His robes swished about him and despite everything, he still carried his usual composed confidence. The Slytherin Head of House turned and fixed (Y/n) with a stare that left them feeling vulnerable - as though any secret they ever had had just been told, without uttering a word. For a brief moment, (Y/n) wondered if professor Snape was a legilimens, or if they were just shaken, still.

But then another thought crossed their mind. ‘Did it matter?’

“You can go in.”

(Y/n) was inside the infirmary before Snape had time to turn away.

The Hospital Wing was silent, and their hurried steps echoed in a way that made their heart beat louder their chest. Madam Pomfrey didn’t look surprised to see them, just apologetic. “He’s unconscious for now. It should wear off in 20 minutes or so. He’ll be fine.” She pointed to a nearby chair and (Y/n) pulled it up, sitting at Draco’s side and eyeing him closely.

After seven months of spending nearly every waking moment together, (Y/n) knew Draco Malfoy better than anyone else. They knew all that he had once been and all he became.

(Y/n) knew the toll that his secrets took,  and how unrelenting they were as they tore at everything Draco was. Harry must’ve known, too. He must have sensed it - maybe all those months ago, when he looked at him in Potions as though ready to duel. But to nearly kill Draco?

(Y/n) didn’t know what had happened - or just who Harry Potter was. But they couldn’t believe something like was intentional.

(Y/n) had to believe Harry didn’t know what he did.

This war made monsters of them all, but did the best of them have to succumb to its dangers? Did everyone in this world have to get twisted and suffer so? They were all innocents, and yet they slaughtered each other like enemies. Did none of them shed tears?

There were many more terrors to come, and (Y/n) had to believe that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, would be strong enough and kind enough to forgive them. Sometimes this world leaves you without a choice; sometimes it leaves children to nothing but ruins. (Y/n) was just a child, and they didn’t know who to save or even how to do so.

But they did know a few things. A simple, handful of facts that would have to be enough to get them through.

Across the room, Madam Pomfrey took her leave, wandering to the back office where she kept many of her potions.

Despite everything, Draco looked peaceful as he slept - something (Y/n) had never seen, despite the two dozing off plenty of times while working together. He was always in turmoil, no matter his conscious state. So to see him so still was unnerving; it was almost as though he had finally given up.

(Y/n) noticed the sleeves of his shirt had ridden up, and before they could reach out to fix them for him, they noticed the end of a curling tattoo on his inner, left arm. They stared at it for a moment, the curling end of a snake, sitting inside of a skull. (Y/n) considered it, expecting fear to grip their heart but feeling something like sympathy, instead.

They already knew, deep down, what was branded there. They had known for a while. It wasn’t a revelation, and part of them didn’t want to reach out and expose the rest of the tattoo. Did they need to confirm it, now? It was silly, the idea that seeing it would make it more real.

They saw it every day in the way in hands shook, or in the anger in his eyes. They didn’t need to see a tattoo to know what Draco Malfoy had been branded. Sometimes, (Y/n) believed that the ink on his skin didn’t make him different, at all.

How quickly they had grown to trust him. And yet, how quickly he revealed himself, when the two of them were the only souls still awake and bleeding.

(Y/n) pushed the rest of the sleeve down, covering the exposed skin. A cold hand grabbed their own.

Draco stared at them, grey eyes alert and panicked. For a moment, he didn’t seem to breathe. (Y/n) pulled away and his grip went slack, his expression still torn and frozen in place, the only difference being the tears that were welling in his eyes.

“It’s alright, Draco.” He was running from a catastrophe, these days. He seemed to live in the fallout of terrible revelations. A younger Draco wouldn’t recognize him, if he could see himself, now. “I already knew.” Draco tried to scoff, but it came out a sob. Did it somehow hurt worse, the admission of knowledge rather than a sudden reveal? Did it paint him, to realize he had been known all along?(Y/n) tried to offer a smile, but it didn’t quite meet their eyes. “You’re not the only one who’s observant.”

“Why are you helping me, then?” His voice was hoarse and unsure.

Why, indeed?

“You and your whole family will die.” Tears pricked at (Y/n)’s eyes, though whether they were of frustration or sadness, they did not know. Perhaps it was both.

“Others will die because of us,” Draco breathed the words, as though he didn’t want to admit it to even himself.

“They’d find a way inside Hogwarts somehow - nowhere’s safe. But… but if we do it this way… maybe more can be spared.”

“Everyone will die,” Draco shook his head, every emotion he had ever felt spilling over, seeping out of him like all of that blood collecting on the bathroom floor. He has been holding it in for months, and now he was letting go all of it go, bursting forth until he had nothing left. “You don’t know them like I do, we — we’re all dead.”

“Not yet,” (Y/n) wiped at their cheeks furiously, resolve making their voice strong. “We can still save most of us. It’s Dumbledore they want, isn’t it?”

Draco let out another choking sob.

“Why don’t we just tell him?”

“Don’t you see?” Draco was shaking with emotion, his face red and streaked with tears. His every word was punctuated, trembling with a mixture of anger and sadness and fear. No matter where he went, there was so much fear. “I’m the villain in their story.”

(Y/n) took in a shaky breath and put their hands in his. They were still crying, but it wasn’t for themself. “You’re not a villain, Draco. You’re just a boy,” they whispered, but the sound of it seemed to echo around them. “And we’re a brotherhood, right? So I’m here for you. Even if it is just us.”

And they cried together, two voices who’s echoes sounded like one.

xiii.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

This time, the songbird lived. It sang through the thick wood of the cabinet, it’s lonely tune bright, as though it knew spring was upon them - as though it knew nothing of the impending frost, and the death that was sure to follow. Draco and (Y/n) didn’t need to open the door to know that it worked. But they did, and the tiny, white body ruffled its feathers before flying into the sky, chirping happily as it circled the towers of lost things, alone, the last living thing inside the room.

Draco stepped back from the Cabinet, his entire being trembling. It wasn’t until (Y/n) reached out to still him that they realized they were shaking, too.

They both knew it, but neither felt they had the courage to say it.

“This is the end.” (Y/n) forgot to clear their throat.

“Of Dumbledore.” Draco turned to them, all of his life in his hands, all of his regrets on his face. His voice was thick and his eyes were dull. “But not the war. Potter may still win. Somehow… if he survives.”

Both of them knew this world wasn’t kind to survivors.

But (Y/n) held his gaze. “Will we?”

xiv.

maybe one day they will find me                                                                                 under all of this rubble.

-- taglist: @musicallisto​, @theletterhart​, @locke-writes​, @randomfandomimagine​, @brokenandheadoverheels​, @timeofmadness​, @writerdream22​, @lotsoffandomrecs​, @neelia-thedaughtherof-athena​ // message me if you want to be added!

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

If you were a Durmstrang Student (Draco x reader)

Warnings: Bodily harm, physical fighting, fluff, panic attacks, alluding to... Ahem... Doing the do

Notes: I'm not saying Durmstrang is like this all of the time. It's just an idea that came to mind. And also the fact that in the books that headmaster made me UNCOMFORTABLE.

So you spent your first year of school in Durmstrang

As an American

You obviously didn't do well considering: A) Language barrier and B) everyone was so serious all of the time

You took on a serious demeanor and the first time your parents saw the school they kind of realized you hated it.

You learned discipline from them but jesus, at what cost?

Finally your parents decided to find a better fit after moving elsewhere.

You basically did walkthroughs of different schools

And you saw Hogwarts and thought: "Damn. I wanna go here."

You running into a blonde boy who couldn't take his eyes off of you.

Apologizing for it and him noticing the uniform.

"Sorry, are you from Durmstrang?" He asked.

"Yes I am." You nodded.

You being able to sit in the great hall while your parents work out the kinks.

Draco telling you to sit with Slytherin

You telling the Slytherins about your time at Durmstrang

"Do you like it?" A student asked.

"Not really. Everyone is so... Emotionless. It's more of a military academy than a wizarding school." You muttered.

Draco noticed the look on your face.

You weren't exactly happy with it and he could tell that you were being honest

"Surely there's something you look forward to while you're there?" A student asked.

You pondered and then laughed.

"Does sparring count?" You asked.

Them not getting it.

"Sparring. Like fighting with rules?" You asked.

"Sorry you guys... Duel?" Someone else asked.

"No. Sparring. Like physical fighting not magic. We're trained with magic and physical strength it's why we're good at quidditch." You explained.

A few students went "Oooh" as a response

You were a bit of an odd ball to Draco but something told him you were definitely a Slytherin.

Well he was right.

After the great hall Dumbledore ultimately decided to allow you to transfer and took you back to the office for a sorting.

The hat pondered between houses and decided slytherin was the best for you.

The next school year Draco saw you in Diagon Alley but couldn't tell if he was hallucinating or actually seeing you.

Then he saw you on the train and gaped.

"You're... Here? And in Slytherin?!" He asked noticing the robes.

You laughed. "Yes, I was in the middle of the transfer process when you met me." You said.

He of course stuck with you, him finding out more personal things

Your birthday, your favorite things, more stories about Durmstrang

He was really excited to learn more about you.

You really enjoyed spending time with this boy

And as he listened to you he started to become really grateful that his parents decided against Durmstrang

Yes, they may have been prestigious. But considering he could tell something happened there that seemed to bother you, Draco was glad he never went.

Occasionally Draco would notice certain things here and there

Like a scar on your hand that went to your wrist

The scar on your neck that you tried to hide

Why were there so many scars?

There was a reason indeed for those.

And that was that damn headmaster

For the less obedient students, physical punishment was not off limits

Your parents were unaware of that until after you transferred

You usually stood up for the little guys and often got in trouble for it

You hated him. You hated that headmaster more than you could say.

Whenever you were asked about your scars you'd go quiet and appear to just be seething.

Draco couldn't tell why you'd get so upset over them but he never asked

Because of your need to stand up for the little guy however, you did snap at Draco for mocking Longbottom

He didn't understand why you cared but you clearly did

Harry noticed it and so did Ron

Both of them started talking to you, which naturally pissed off Draco

And some insults were thrown and you showed little to no reaction

You may have been a little shorter than the boys at the school but when you go to a school where physical altercations were a regular thing, verbal insults don't bother you as much.

You did however hate hearing them from Draco. That upset you.

He could tell he went too far and later apologized around Christmas

You accepted the apology and his attitude slowly began to change from stuck up to more sarcastic than anything.

His parents were pleased to know his new friend was a Slytherin and from Durmstrang.

Your parents worked for the ministry (thus why you moved multiple times) and you ended up meeting them at a dinner over the summer

"Did you enjoy your time at Durmstrang?" Narcissa asked.

Your eyes almost seemed to glaze over, all of the adults took notice and immediately knew something was off

"....Yes. I did." You said in almost a trance

Draco rose a brow noticing you'd never answered like that before

And then he realized: the times he'd heard you answer were to students. You never answered the adults when asking that.

It was most likely an enforced reaction for you.

"...How was it really?" Lucius asked.

"...I need to be excused." You said leaving abruptly.

Your mother sighed and shook her head. "She hasn't been the same since her time there..." Your mother admitted.

"It's like they still are controlling her, even when she's not there." Your father sighed.

Both of Draco's parents were now glad they never enrolled Draco there.

"Can I go look for Y/n? She looked upset." Draco asked.

Both of your parents nodded and he found you rather quickly.

You were in the library, sitting by a small fire in the fireplace.

You looked like you were crying.

"Y/n?" Draco asked.

You wiped your eyes. "Hi Draco." You said.

"You don't have to pretend, it's just me." He assured.

You sighed. "Why does everyone always want to know about that damn school?" You muttered.

"Probably because most people stay there when they're enrolled." He shrugged.

You shook your head. "It's not fair that I lost a year of my time to them." You muttered.

He kneeled next to your seat. "Then we'll have more fun to make up for that year." Draco assured.

You smiled at him and he smiled at you

It was the first time your heart really skipped a beat with him and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

The next time you saw Draco his hair wasn't slacked anymore and he was taller

He noticed you were a lot more prettier than usual too

The two of you never left each other's side unless you had to

You ended up having fun with him that year

You were the one to stop Buckbeak from injuring Draco that year

You stood there between the two, making sure that the creature wouldn't harm him.

"Rest easy there little guy... He's all bark and no bite don't worry." You said to Buckbeak, bowing to him.

Buckbeak bowed to you and you smiled.

Draco found you very attractive when that happened too, your smile usually made him notice you more.

Hogsmeade being really fun.

Ron and Hermione both laughing as you had a snowball fight with them.

Draco reading in the corner trying to avoid talking to them

Him feeling the snow hit his arm.

"Did you just... Throw snow at me?" He asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh lighten up Draco--"

And then a snowball hurdled towards her and you were laughing.

Having a moment where you both tripped midsnowball fight and fell onto each other.

You being a blushing mess and him helping you up.

You screaming after Harry just popped up next to you.

Poor bastard forgot that you went to the wizarding equivalent to a military academy so you kind of....

Drop kicked him.

"Oh my God Harry I am so sorry!" You said helping him up.

"Christ Potter! Where'd you come from!?" Draco said surprised.

"Can you stand, oh God tell me you can stand!?" You said panicked.

He assured you he was fine.

And then asked you to show him how to do that.

So it turned to you teaching the group self defense

No surprise, your best class was "Defense against the dark arts"

Draco loved seeing you passionate about it too

His parents sending you a Christmas gift

Which was a cane! That doubled as a blade

You and Draco were the only two that knew that and it was going to stay that way

Lucius' mind set when he bought it was "Watch that headmaster try to touch her now. Bastard."

No one really understood how terrifying you found that headmaster until the boggart lesson

No surprise: it was him

Everyone was confused and Remus saw the pure terror on your face

You were so scared and it was obvious from the shaking

Remus handled it and talked to you after class

He knew something was up and hated to see you anxious

You would stay in his classroom when the younger students would bombard you with questions

Draco would sit with you two

Days where you both sat in there, him sitting in a seat and using another as a footrest while you sat next to him smiling and laughing.

Oh Remus knew you liked him

You noticed Hermione showing at random times

You were confused until the day that you and the group found out that Lucius somehow caught wind of the fact that Buckbeak almost hurt you and Draco.

You guys went on a rescue mission

Draco was with you guys because if it was important to you then damn it, it was important to him

So the plan didn't exactly... Go to plan

Finding out your favorite teacher was a werewolf wasn't in the plan

Neither was finding out that that same teacher was basically housing a convict.

Or discovering Harry's parents were killed by Ron's pet rat

You almost killing Peter with your Christmas gift but being caught off guard by the fact that REMUS WAS A WEREWOLF

All of you swearing not to tell another soul about anything.

The group becoming closer to Draco.

Draco's family actually offered to have you over for the summer and you accepted

Lucius noticing Draco's smile when you were present

You enjoying Narcissa's company.

You were a little oblivious to them being supporters of the dark Lord but that mainly came from the fact that weird behavior wasn't unusual in Durmstrang

Going to the World Quidditch game and basically freezing up because the Durmstrang headmaster was near you.

You having to relocate with Draco because you were on the verge of a panic attack

"H-He's here Draco-- I-I can't" you hyperventilated.

Arthur Weasley finding you. "Oh dear... You poor thing, why don't you come with us to the tent, we'll make tea?" He offered.

You accepted and Harry swore he'd punch the shit out of the headmaster if he came near you.

You all laughed but then you heard screaming.

You basically defending them, again with your Christmas present from Lucius

Coming face to face with a death eater and having a blade put to your neck

Draco sneaking up behind them and knocking them out before bolting.

Somehow you were calm for that.

Truth be told: that wasn't uncommon at Durmstrang either.

The school year starting off with you finding out that Durmstrang would be with you

You naturally freaked the hell out

Especially when they introduced the schools and the headmaster noticed you.

You were shaking the entire time

Then there was one student who you saw that seemed to calm you

Viktor Krum

He took his seat with you and almost seemed to be like a big brother

Course Draco was so jealous he couldn't see that

You seemed a little less anxious when Krum was present and that mainly came from the fact that when you were in trouble at Durmstrang, Krum would step in.

You being excited for Viktor when he was selected

Then said excitement disappearing when Harry's name popped out.

You asking if there was anyway to take his place, practically begging.

You couldn't. But you were allowed to help him if he asked for it.

Then the first trial came up.

And the only thing you heard was "Y/N, HELP!"

You immediately ran down there and fought a fucking dragon.

Harry narrowly escaping with the egg and you.

You coming back to the stands and Draco being so relieved that he kissed you

In front of everyone.

Krum smiling like an idiot because his little sister was in love.

Then it became you and Draco doing things together all of the time

Days where you sat in the astronomy tower, looking out at the school and enjoyed each other's company.

Draco holding you in his arms while reading in the common room.

Nose kisses. He loved it when you kissed his nose

Asking you to the Yule ball

You saying yes because DUH.

You ending up being apart of Viktor's Trial

Draco being confused on where you were until someone mentioned that a faculty member asked you to be a part of this.

Draco's heart dropping

Viktor coming out of the water with you.

Your first words were "Whoever decided this would be fun right before winter can actually bite me!"

Fleur coming up empty handed and you knowing there was a child down there

You dropping everything and charging towards the water

The Durmstrang headmaster stopping you and saying "This isn't your challenge girl."

You pulling back your arm with this look that could kill

You growling out "I don't care." Before jumping back in.

Draco almost passing out because he thought he was going to lose you.

Viktor assuring him that you could do this.

You coming back up with Gabrielle

Draco wrapping you in his coat and holding your hands while breathing on them to keep you warm.

Him walking you back to the common room while everyone else was celebrating

Maybe he helped you change

Him seeing the full extent of why you truly feared the headmaster.

Scars were basically all over your back

He didn't care about them being there, he cared about why they were there.

You didn't actually do anything.

I mean yes: he did see you shirtless

But other than that he turned his back.

He wouldn't stop glaring at that headmaster whenever he was close by.

Actually, most of Slytherin seemed to be pissed.

Because when one of their own was hurt, that's when you should expect DEATH.

The Yule ball coming up and Narcissa being made aware of the fact that you were Draco's date.

Her sending you a dress

Viktor walking you down the stairs to Draco and then waiting for Hermione

Draco thinking "She is so out of my league"

You and him dancing together with smiles and laughter

Him kissing you before going to his dormitory

Both of you thinking about each other the whole night until you both went to the common room and fell asleep on the couch

No one daring to separate you two

Watching the final challenge and seeing Harry come back

Cedric being on the ground and Harry in a shocked state

You sprinting down there to make sure he was okay

"H-He wanted me to bring him back.... His parents"

You just hugged your friend until Mad eye came over

You knowing damn well that this was just the beginning of something massive

You preparing yourself over the summer by physical training.

The Malfoy's acting even weirder than last time

You learning that they were supporters of the dark lord

Them wanting to genuinely keep you safe

You agreeing to join up when the time came

Then you turning into a double agent

Both you and Draco did actually

Your shocked faces when Snape was in the Manor

Umbridge really liking you for some reason

You secretly helping Fred and George

You finding out that Umbridge was hurting students and you stepping in

Then when she threatened you-- Draco stepping in with some more serious threats.

When she was dragged off by centaurs you all celebrated

Maybe Draco and you celebrate in your own way

Maybe you two had some... Fun

Him waking up next to you and thinking he was the luckiest guy in the world

You and him becoming inseparable

You finding out about the battle at the ministry

You and Draco sneaking off to the Burrow and finding Harry so emotionally drained.

You hugging Harry as he just cried for hours

Draco knowing damn well this was going to get ugly very soon

Him knowing there was a plan in the works with the dark lord

He just didn't know that the plan would involve Voldemort staying in the Manor

Pt 2 coming next

[itsuki-minamy]

“KINGDOM OF RED": Chapter 2 (Pages 93 to 146)

TRANSLATION & RAWS: NARU-KUN

The wall was badly broken.

Suoh, who dropped out of school after completing the supplementary lessons, was sitting on the bench at the bus stop. He wasn't waiting for the pass. It was a hot and humid day in which the sun was raging even though it was June. So on the way home, he buys ice cream on a stick and sit on the bench at a cabin-style bus stop in the shade to eat ice cream.

The bus stop is no longer in use (at least Suoh has never seen a bus stop here), and it seems like it has been left unattended and has forgotten to check out. The roof and walls to prevent rain and wind are made of wood and have corroded over the years. However, it is useful to avoid the sun. The road was up a hill and the bus stop was near the bottom of the hill.

Moist, gentle heat envelops his body. It was windy, but the wind direction was bad. The wind blowing from the side is blocked by the wall and does not hit Suoh. This stop was good for umbrellas, but it was also a windbreaker. There is no choice but to look at the state of the tree swaying in the wind.

Quiet early summer afternoon. The first to notice it were his ears.

From a distance, he hears the sound of a bicycle's wheels spinning at tremendous speed. He wondered if he was getting closer, "Ooh!" He hears the voice of a child screaming.

And the wall was broken.

The corroded wooden wall was completely destroyed by a bicycle that rushed down with tremendous force, and a child riding on the tattered bicycle appeared in front of Suoh. He was thrown from his bicycle, fluttered in the air for a moment, rolled on the ground, hit a wall opposite the wall that his bicycle had destroyed, and stopped.

"What the hell..."

The boy frowns painfully, almost upside down from the impact of rolling.

He meets Suoh, who was sitting on the bench at the bus stop and eating ice cream. The boy opened his eyes and said, still in an upside down position.

"Are you hurt?"

"You're…"

Even if he thinks about it, the questions are absurd.

The boy, groaning, finally gets up from a prone position and checks his body. Then, he squeezes the brake on the bike that fell and jerked.

"I thought I was lucky because the bicycle was thrown in the dumpster, but it looks like the brakes were broken. I'm sorry for the surprise. I'm glad I didn't hurt you!"

The boy said that with a smile on his face. A cool breeze blows through a large hole in the wall of the destroyed bus stop. The child's pale hair ruffled fluffy.

Is he a high school student? He was a childish boy with a well-organized face and a slim figure.

"Well, it wasn't the case since you were relaxed. I'm going!"

The boy suddenly seemed to remember something, but as soon as he stood up, he frowned and stopped moving. Apparently his leg was injured.

"Ugh. No use. Sorry, can I hide for a bit?"

The boy hid behind the bench without Suoh's consent. Suoh wasn't particularly interested, so he left him alone and ate the rest of the ice cream.

Before long, he hears several jerky footsteps. Three bad-looking men run. At first glance, they are wearing a fashion that spared no effort so that they could be recognized as bullies. The dangling gold accessories make a jarring noise.

"Hey."

A man with a shaved head calls out to Suoh.

"Has a high school boy come this way?"

Suoh didn't reply. Perhaps that attitude was annoying, one of the men clicked his tongue.

"Hey, answer what I ask you!"

When Suoh was still silent, he was touched from behind on his back. The boy hiding behind the bench. It seems to be a sign to do him a favor.

Suoh opened his mouth, thinking it would be troublesome.

"I do not know."

"You lie! It's the kid on the bicycle that fell over here!"

From behind the bench, he hears a faint, impressive sound. Apparently, he did not know that he would be caught on a bicycle. It can be silly.

Behind the terrifying bully before Suoh, the other two compare the bicycle to the destroyed wall and turn their necks, saying, "What happened?" "Is that child okay?"

"I do not know."

When Suoh told him that, the shaven-headed thug got enraged and grabbed Suoh.

But before his hand grabbed Suoh's chest, the boy hiding behind the bench came out and stopped the bully. The child, holds the bully's hand, shakes his hand and smiles.

"Sorry I was here."

Suoh was amazed.

Didn't he want them to hide him? No, he really didn't want to hide behind Suoh, but he wondered what to do if he hid and came out later.

The man who was about to grab Suoh also grimaced in frustration. After exposing a face of direct surprise for about two seconds, he felt relieved as if he had returned to himself, and forcibly pulled on the hand that was paired with the boy. He slides the back of the bench and forces him to tip over, and the boy is dragged in front of the men.

"Uh..."

"You can't run anymore. Where did your father go?!"

The bully held the boy with his hands and pressed his rough face closer to the boy.

"I don't know. Like I said before, my uncle often goes on a trip, so if I go on a trip, I don't even know where to go."

Even if it's scary, he doesn't seem scared at all. He is used to this situation or he is just nervous? However, even though it wasn't sexual harassment, he seemed to be in trouble.

"Liar! I wonder if you became a decoy and let your father escape!"

"Well that's correct."

"So you're admitting that you let him get away!"

"That's right. If you ask me, I'm in trouble when they ask me. No, I'm still in trouble, right?"

Apparently, it is not exactly this child who is being persecuted, but the child's father.

Suoh grabbed the wooden ice cream stick that he had finished eating and tossed it in the trash next to him. A dirty, rusty metal trash can with the sound of a wooden stick falling and a clicking sound.

The men turned their eyes as if the sound reminded them of Suoh's existence.

"Hey, who are you? Do you know him?"

"I don't know. He was there when I got rid of my bicycle."

The boy said before Suoh answered. It seems like he is trying to get involved without permission and the child doesn't want to get him involved anymore.

Suoh sighed and looked at the men. Ignoring their faces, if he looks at each one, he can see a tense atmosphere running between the men. The shaved man, who was holding the boy in his hand, gulped and released the boy's hand. He can see the child blinking as if surprised.

"What are you doing?"

The words thrown at Suoh were terribly devoid of content.

"It is a demon."

Suoh said in a low voice...

"Get lost."

The air sways. In the movement of the air, he realized that these men would not approach. He can tell by the smell that he is willing to fight.

"What, cheeky..."

One of the guys said in a silly voice, maybe he couldn't retreat. Another person touches his elbow.

"No, don't waste it here. It's not our job to deal with an unrelated child."

With that word as a hint to retreat, the men returned the brilliance. "Next time your father goes somewhere, ask him where he's going!"

Suoh stayed behind with the boy and somehow looked at his face.

The boy's eyes were wide and he was looking at Suoh.

The two brown eyes reflect a lot of light and shine. His focus was on Suoh's eyes, direct enough to look like a prisoner.

For a moment, Suoh was a bit confused.

He feels like he hasn't been able to face such a straight line of sight from a non-hostile opponent these days. Most of the people who come are those who are trying to sell a fight, and most of the people who are not, look away as if they thought they would be bitten if they looked directly at Suoh. Even people, like Kusanagi and Honami, who try to communicate with the surrounding people, rarely look directly at this point.

The child's eyes, which pierce his gaze from the front in an attempt to identify the other person without any intention, are like when a child observes a person. He felt that uncomfortable straightness.

"King?"

The boy said, looking at Suoh.

It was an oddly cautious tone that he could tell that he was afraid to bow his head.

"Ah?"

When he frowns without understanding the meaning, the boy tilts his neck, which had been tilted to the left, again to the right, giving him a thoughtful look.

"Hmm... It doesn't feel right..."

He can't see what the story is. It was okay to throw him out, but he was a little worried about what this kid would say next, and he look forward to the next words.

The boy suddenly seemed to have some inspiration and said.

"King!"

As soon as he said that word, the boy became confident and nodded.

"Yes, King is the best fit."

"What are you talking about?"

"The story of your name."

The boy said with an innocent smile.

"Can I call you King?"

"Do what you want."

Amazed, this time he left the boy and began to walk. The boy came out to chase him and yelled, "Ouch!" It seems he forgot he had an injured leg and moved.

"King, wait a minute! I can't walk!"

He stopped and looked back reluctantly. The boy laughed happily. With a simple smile like that of an old friend, he approaches Suoh.

"Sorry, but could you give me a hand?"

In the end, Suoh was replaced by a child's cane.

He didn't have the righteousness or the kindness to keep up with him, but for some reason he was caught up in the boy's rhythm. There was no such thing as listlessness in the way the boy spoke and interacted, rather it was not strangely clingy.

Speak frankly and dryly, with no signs of compassionate or intrusive appeal. The ease with which the boy would not get hurt or angry at all, even if he declined his request, on the contrary, may have made Suoh feel like he could get a little more involved.

The boy grabs Suoh's high shoulder as if he is dangling and walks so as not to put his weight on his injured leg.

“The people I mentioned above are debt collectors. My uncle loves gambling and just got into debt."

"Uncle?"

"Oh, that's my dad."

When he was skeptical about some of the words spoken by the boy and repeated like a parrot, the boy complimented.

"I think those debt collectors aren't bad people either. They don't normally blame me, but I helped my uncle escape today, so I think I pissed them off."

"Where did he go when you let him get away?"

"I don't know. Like I told those people, I haven't asked."

While lending his shoulder to the boy, listening to his words, he finally came to a small apartment.

It's an older, two-story apartment that's rare these days. The inner door to the first floor was open.

"That open door over there is my house. I ran away in a hurry, so I left the door open."

The metal door that seems to make a cheap noise when knocked is wide open. Next to the door was a name tag with the words "Ishigami". What hides the back of the room is a thin, hand-made piece of fabric that looks like it was made by joining pieces of fabric together. Beyond that, there was a small tatami room that integrated with the kitchen. It's messy, but not crowded. Daily necessities and messy and unclear sundries are boxed and decorated as a small display, and it can be seen that the owner of this room is living happily as is. However, as a sign that he had run away, he saw a container of hot water lying on the ground.

When the boy removed his hand from Suoh's shoulder, he entered the room, believing that Suoh would naturally approach, and without a doubt, he said, "King, is it okay with Gobocha?"

"What is Gobocha?"

"As the name suggests, it seems to be gobo tea. The neighbor told me it was good for my health and she bought it, but I didn't like the taste. She gave me a drink, so when I told her it was not delicious, she gave me a lot."

The child takes a teapot with tea from the refrigerator, stirs the drink and pours it. He put two cups on the table and looks at Suoh with a smile.

Suoh walks into the room, takes the drink in one hand and drinks it. The flavor hasn't changed much, but the scent that comes out of the nose is definitely that of Gobo.

Hydrate his throat with a very cold tea with an unusual flavor. At first glance, the house did not appear to have air conditioning, but a cool breeze was blowing in through the open windows. There is a clink. When he rolled his eyes, a wind chime that looked like handmade was hanging from the curtain rail.

It's still good now, but he thinks it's hard to spend time in this house when summer comes around, but this kid laughed that he didn't have a cooler and enjoyed the little tricks to avoid the heat. It felt like this.

"It was incredible what happened a moment ago.", said the boy with a smile.

"A moment ago?"

"When you got rid of the debt collectors. King, you saw them and they all ran away."

Suoh snorted a bit at the comment. The boy also narrowed his eyes in a funny way at Suoh's appearance.

The boy drank his tea in one sitting, took a breath, stood up with his crooked leg elevated, dumped tap water into a plastic bag, threw in some ice, and tied it up. He wrapped it in a towel and put it on his ankle. Keep talking gently while quickly treating the affected area.

"Keep in mind that there are colors, shapes and temperatures."

"Ah?"

Suoh frowned at the sudden comment. The boy still has a slight smile.

"No, I could see the sign, I'm not saying I'm like an expert or something."

After trying to apologize, the boy looked away, perhaps trying to remember what he had just seen.

"I could see King's signal growing in the narrow space. I think they could see it too, so they ran away. I didn't run away simply because I wasn't afraid of King's eyes."

The boy continues talking while looking at him.

"It doesn't mean I feel the line of sight, you don't emit a beam from your eyes, I'm not talking about that. But it's true. It's the first time I've seen a person's intentions so clearly. It's like I've seen a ghost although I shouldn't have been inspired."

Suoh glanced at the boy. The child smiles vaguely and looks down to bite into something.

"Is there color, shape or temperature?"

"There was. King's sign is... the temperature is high and it feels red. Then it grows like a glow."

It was like listening to a children's poem. The boy shook his eyes as if trying to find a suitable expression.

"Yes, it was like a flame. Everyone knows that if you touch it you will get burned, that's why the King sign scares everyone. But, although I know it is scary, fire attracts people."

Once, the child removes the ice pack from his leg and observes. Suoh looked at him and said in a low voice.

"What is that?"

"Huh? What?"

"What is King?"

The boy slowly blinked his big eyes a few times, and after a while, he bowed his head.

"Because you are like a King."

"What do you mean?"

The boy changes the tone that seemed calm until then and speaks like a child.

"When King looked at them and made a great sign, I thought you were a king! You were like a great king!"

"It was like a flame from a little while ago."

"The flame looked like a king."

"Was it even covered with a crown?"

"Well maybe it's a little different..."

The boy also made a pensive little face and made his eyes shine.

"You are a lion. You are like a lion with strong fangs. A lion would be the king of beasts."

Suoh sighed and stood up.

He couldn't keep up. Or rather, he had been with him long enough.

The boy didn't try to stop Suoh, who was about to go home, and said, "Oh, are you going home? Thank you for today."

"See you."

The boy responded to Suoh's miserable greeting with a bright smile.

"See you again, King!"

See you, the words were not just greetings.

Then the boy appeared many times before Suoh. He appears casually as a dog or cat that you often run into during a walk, and when he thinks he have been following him for a while, he easily disappears.

After repeating such a thing several times, Suoh got used to the boy's existence. He come to accept him as a familiar dog or cat.

Those who have been close to Suoh so far are those who fear him, or those who have a sense of hostility. There are even those who borrow Suoh's power, try to use him as a shield, or feel the illusion that they became stronger when they were close to Suoh.

With the exception of Kusanagi, who never entered Suoh's territory, even when he was near Suoh, and drew a refreshing, clean line. Kusanagi's way of taking a distance was refreshing to Suoh, probably because most of the people who sided with Suoh were the ones who stepped in and hit him, or the ones who came up and tried to lean on him.

In comparison, that boy enters this area, both physically and mentally. However, if he want to lean on him, he don't and disappears. After all, he looked like an animal without human thoughts or speculation.

Suoh himself is called a beast and is used to being treated like an animal. Such a beast got acquainted with a friendly dog ​​and cat.

++++++++++

It doesn't make sense for Suoh to wander around town.

He does not have a positive desire to play, nor does he want a place to stay. Like a fish swimming in a tank of water, just walking around town.

Suoh has never felt a clear inconvenience in his life. Although his parents died early, he had a legacy he could live with. It was his eccentric grandfather who became Suoh's guardian after his parents died, and did little to interfere in Suoh's life with minimal discipline when he was young.

There is no shortage and there is no particular bond.

Still, Suoh felt that this world was narrow.

A world in which people are crowded and various emotions intertwine, as if walking is going to hit their shoulders. There was always a vague feeling of obstruction, no, a strong feeling of irritation.

(Your parents were laid back and nice people.)

His grandfather once said while drinking. He wondered why a child like him was born to such human beings.

(But it may have been unusual for me to freely accept a child like you.)

He was a stubborn and silent grandfather. He became ill and was strongly recommended to be hospitalized, but refused to decide where he would die. He hated hospitals and terrible treatments that would only postpone death, with a force that could be said to be hatred.

(I live freely and die. You also live freely.)

His grandfather stretched his back and looked at Suoh, even though he was thin from illness and had black, depressed eyes.

(You decide how to deal with that annoying thing in you.)

His grandfather's finger pierced the middle of Suoh's chest. He doesn’t hear what his grandfather said was a nuisance. However, he intuitively felt that it was related to this vague sense of obstruction that constantly envelops Suoh.

Suoh swim in the city like a fish. A town called Shizume where he was born and raised. People crowd and cross, it looks beautiful, it is also like a sweep.

Suoh doesn't hate humans like his grandfather. If the horses meet, they will meet each other and there will be no feeling of revulsion towards each other. Sometimes he finds it fun to hang out with Kusanagi.

Still, as Honami said, he certainly thought it was easy to be afraid of the people around him.

He doesn't hate humans. However, the intertwined human thoughts and feelings strengthened Suoh's sense of obstruction.

The "troublesome thing" in Suoh is probably why people around him are afraid of him and call him "beast", and that boy calls him "King".

"Oh, it's King."

Suddenly, he hears a bright and familiar voice.

Suoh, who was walking through the city smoothly, stopped. There is only one person who calls Suoh as King.

As expected, see the boy sitting down. The boy was in a circle of friends in front of the play center.

Suoh tried to pass by with a glance, but the boy was quick to say something to his friends around him.

There was no reason to wait, so Suoh continued without loosening his legs. The boy takes a brisk step and stands next to Suoh, looking up with a loose smile.

"It's the first time I've met you at night, King."

The boy said that, in a tone that was funny.

Suoh doesn't respond in particular and stomps on the dirty street surface.

By the way, Suoh vaguely thought that this boy would appear only at certain times of the day.

After school, he was playing near the place where he first met him, which is also Suoh's school route, and he was waiting in front of Suoh's high school while being nice to the students. To Suoh, this boy was a creature that haunted bright places.

"Did you go out at night to party despite being a kid?"

After saying that, he realized that it is surprising that this boy plays in Shizume at night.

The boy smiled after blinking his big eyes.

"A child is not much different from you, King."

"I'm going."

"Totsuka."

He thought he was a boy who was 12 years old at the most and had just entered high school. He's probably lower than average, and he has seen him in uniform multiple times, but didn't feel like he was wearing it.

However, there is not a big difference between twelve and fourteen, and in that sense, the difference between Suoh and this boy is not that great.

"Where are you going, King?"

"Separately."

Suoh candidly replies to the listening boy as he walks with a step that seems to bounce slightly beside Suoh. The boy was a guide.

"Does that mean it's not destiny?"

"That does not exist."

"So why are you walking?"

"There is no reason."

It is like a fish swimming in a tank of water. The boy looked at Suoh again for a while and laughed softly.

"After all, King is like a lion."

Eat, sleep, just walk around the place. Certainly animal behavior.

The boy doesn't want to know about Suoh, even though he follows Suoh. They meet in town, move on, and then go home.

Suddenly, Suoh realized that he didn't even know the boy's name. He was a bit surprised and speaks in the first person. He hangs around and talk nonsense, but he never asks for a name.

"Your…"

The boy looked at him as he spoke.

"Name is…"

It blinks, clicks and blinks twice. Then the boy also grimaced that he finally realized the fact that they did not know each other's names.

"Tatara Totsuka."

Totsuka rubs his nose. He felt stagnant for some reason.

A boy who calls himself Tatara Totsuka says with an impulse...

"I don't know King's name!"

Suoh simply called himself Suoh, while looking at the surprised boy.

"Suoh Mikoto."

The boy spoke the name in a tone like singing a spell, and his eyes were round.

"It's amazing that I have heard about the name and the rumors, King is Suoh."

"Did you know? Hmm, didn't you know?"

It seems like he didn't know he was the same person, even though he called him King and knew about Suoh's rumors.

Suoh was amazed and glanced at Totsuka, and tried to remember what he was caught up in.

"Name plate."

Suoh said, remembering an earlier event.

"The name of the front card is different."

Totsuka made a surprised face.

"Do you remember well?"

When he found him, he met this boy with an injured leg and brought him home. At that moment, he saw the front card of the house. He didn't want to remember it, but it seems like it stayed somewhere in his head.

"Uncle's last name is Ishigami. But I'm a collected kid, so my last name is different."

"Eh?"

Totsuka revealed the origin in a light tone, which seems heavy from the point of view of general sensibilities.

"Was I three years old? I don't remember much, but it seems like I was dropped off at the park. I knew my name and I was carrying a small backpack with some money."

"Didn't you change your last name?"

"Yeah. Well, it doesn't mean I can't find a father. Until then, I thought I could live in that house for now. So it looks like we're living together."

That's probably why he calls his father "uncle." Considering how he met Totsuka, his father does not appear to be a legitimate type of adult, and may be living with him with the intention of having a small presence rather than as a father.

The slight freedom, kindness and somewhat dry atmosphere of the child, despite his original personality, can come from his birth and upbringing.

"Totsuka."

Say the name for the first time. Totsuka replied lightly.

"Yes?"

"Because you follow me?"

It is a new question. Totsuka looked lightly and crossed his arms to think.

"Why is it exciting?"

"Exciting."

Involuntarily returns the word like a parrot. He frowns and sees Totsuka walking beside his.

"There's a lot of fun in the world, but that's definitely not the case, is it? But there's something I can definitely say when I'm with King. I feel like it's there."

It's an awkward and fluffy answer.

"I do not know what it means."

"Well, in a nutshell..."

Totsuka thought for a moment and nodded aloud.

"I will be a servant of the king."

Suoh had a very strange face. If Kusanagi were here, he thought he would have an astonished face.

"Servant of the king?"

"That's correct. Who is there besides King?"

Totsuka smiles and says it as something natural.

After a while, he realized that Totsuka is a person who is very interested in various things. It seems that the interest in Suoh is only temporary. Suoh took a deep breath, wondering if it was useless to take him seriously.

"The king's servant is faking his current pastime?"

Totsuka also put on a serious and thinking face. The silence this time is unexpectedly long. This child, who usually speaks firmly, takes time to respond only when he thinks deeply.

After spending a long time thinking, Totsuka said...

"I feel different."

"What?"

"I can't explain how I feel, but it's not my hobby. I like to try different things, but this is not the case."

Despite the irrelevant reply as usual, Totsuka's tone was unwavering. He thinks he's a funny guy. He looks like an idiot with a lack of screws in his head, but there are times when he seems to be looking at something different.

"Then…"

Totsuka said in a serious tone. He always speaks in a soft tone that seems to include a smile, so the mood changes when it becomes serious.

"I wonder if I want to stay away."

What? He tries to ask, but before that, he notice a sign of the way to go.

He turns his gaze to him. Three men stood up. It is a trio of a large man, a man of medium height, medium back, golden hair tied behind him, and a tall, thin man. Although the face and body were not alike at all, the atmosphere created was exactly the same. They are the ones who often intimidate their environment with their appearance and attitude. They seem to be floating in the surroundings, which the general public would avoid if they walked, and they blend into Shizume city at night as a background.

The men's eyes caught Suoh directly.

Suoh stops and ignores those who get in the way.

There was a distinct smell of hostility in them. For Suoh, the smell he got used to. The aggressive will is exposed in the eyes of the men to whom it is directed.

"King."

Totsuka calls Suoh. It doesn't seem awkward, but it is a voice with a soft color.

"Go somewhere."

He told him in a low voice, but there was no sign of Totsuka moving.

Suoh didn't look at Totsuka, he just looked at the ones standing in front of him and waited for the next action.

"You are Suoh Mikoto."

A large man standing in front of him said that. The upper arm muscles extending from the black tank top are tight and swollen. More than a threatening act, it was more like an unconscious force at the signs of battle.

The men look at each other as if they are talking to each other.

"Do you know Mitsuha-san?"

Mitsuha. Suoh looks for the name in his head and remembers it. He remembered him because he was a strange guy. The man who knew Kusanagi. Suddenly he came and got into a fight with Suoh. He's used to getting into fights, but he's never done it like that.

Was the full name Mitsuha Kurayama? It seems like he was a famous guy in Shizume. Kusanagi said he was rampaging almost like a street demon, equivalent to suicide.

Suoh remembered Mitsuha Kurayama's eyes.

Behind the dull color, there is something that burns violently, the eyes that glow black.

That eye had a reminiscent color. The irritation and resignation the man had were familiar to Suoh.

"What did you do to Mitsuha-san?"

Says a big man with a grumpy voice. To call him Mitsuha-san, they must have been members of Mitsuha Kurayama's group. After losing to Suoh, Kurayama obeyed Suoh's words to disappear, and disappeared from this artistic district. Are the remaining subordinates looking for the missing team leader?

Perhaps he was frustrated by Suoh, who was just looking back without answering, the big man distorted his face. However, he doesn't grab it in frustration, but licks his lower lip in a hasty gesture.

"Did you kill him?"

Suoh is momentarily absent when asked a tense question despite being intimidating. A peaceful voice echoed before Suoh understood its meaning.

"Ah, I've heard that too. It is rumored that Suoh Mikoto killed a person named Mitsuha Kurayama."

Suoh saw the owner of the voice that did not fit the content at all. Totsuka makes a smiling face without feeling tension by removing the poison.

"But you didn't kill him, did you?"

In a noisy situation, Totsuka is creating a loose atmosphere by himself. Suoh clicked his tongue.

"What if I killed him?"

"What should I do? But you didn't kill him, did you, King?"

Totsuka says that with a face that seems to respond to a test of confidence. The men around him also seemed crazy because they did not adapt to the situation.

Suoh gets tired and opens his mouth to end the matter quickly. "I faced him because he sold me a fight... So after I hit him, I told him to disappear, and he disappeared."

The men mutter under their breath at the explanation.

"Did you beat Mitsuha-san?"

"Don't be silly, why would Mitsuba-san listen to you?"

The men said that. Suoh no longer responded. Just be quiet and look at the men in front of him.

The men were ready to attack Suoh. There are no signs of quitting. The hostility and aggressive will that emanate from them smell stronger. It is the smell of a beast that rises at the signs of violence.

The big man in the lead in a black tank top stepped forward. After that, a flashy blond man and a tall, thin man spread sideways as if trying to lock Suoh up. All three are in a combat pose. Suoh warned Totsuka who was behind, "Go away.", Without turning around.

"Damn. How dare you say you beat Mitsuha-san!"

The big man said that while raising his big arm. A powerful fist slices through the air and hits Suoh's left cheek.

He hears a buzzing in his ear for a moment. The hit part is hot.

A momentary sensation of shaking the world and the heat.

It was permission for Suoh to break free. A sign that he, who is forced to live in a small world, will rush to the front.

The edge of his mouth lifted. A smile comes naturally. The big man who hit Suoh looks into Suoh's eyes.

He shook his shoulder. The flashy blonde in the back yells and jumps up in a hurry, as if grabbing his foot for a moment and taking it in. A tall, thin man pulls a knife from his back pocket and raises the blade with just a snap of his wrist.

Hostility and targeted harm. It is a familiar feeling. Sparks that continue to fall punishing. It is annoying and frustrating. However, it was also true that he feels liberated from the narrow world only at this moment. He knew it was just a momentary illusion.

Suoh stabbed at his fangs and giggled, stepping out of the tight little place that was pushing him inside.

++++++++++

The big man, turned into a big lump on the street and spread conspicuously. The black tank top is damp with blood from the nose. The skinny man is crouched on his stomach, and a blond man with a puffy face is trying to provoke the large man to pass out, with a sigh.

The deal was completed in five minutes.

Suoh has a fist with the blood of one of the three men, wiping it loosely on the waistband of his pants.

The passing heat is easily removed, and he suddenly remember it with a cool head.

What happened to Totsuka?

Before the fight started, he was aware of him, but after it started, he completely forgot about his existence.

"Hey, help me!"

When the blond man managed to lift the large man's body, he hysterically called out to the other thin man. The skinny man looked down the street, holding his stomach with one arm. Find the knife that fell and try to pick it up. He can no longer see the fighting spirit anywhere. He guesses he's just trying to collect it.

But before that, a slim hand reached out and picked up the knife lying on the street.

It was Totsuka.

He has a slightly embarrassed look on his childish face and slowly bends the butterfly knife to close the blade.

"Put down the knife!"

Totsuka said that, thinking that he would pick it up as it was, simply handed the well-bent knife back to the thin man. The man looks great.

"Oh."

The blond man called again in a voice mixed with irritation and impatience. The skinny one grabs the knife with a complicated look, and when he puts it in his pocket, he stands up and goes to his friends. The blonde and the other grabbed the tall man by the arms and dragged his body.

Suoh didn't say a word and sees the men's backs.

"Hey, you're strong." Totsuka said.

The admiring voice is a bit old-fashioned and feels relaxed.

"If you stay with me, you will get hurt."

"Hey. I'm running away fast. More than that, take this."

Totsuka gives him a soda. It was a can of cola that was sweating a bit on the surface.

"What?"

"Your face. Put it on while it's cold."

He seems to refer to the cheek that received the first blow. In other words, when Suoh started fighting and was beaten, it appears that Totsuka went to buy a cola from the soda machine.

He thought he was a fuzzy guy, and that he was scared and lost.

Suoh receives the can of cola that Totsuka offered him and puts it on his cheek. Feel a little tingling and a pleasant coldness on his cheek. However, it got troublesome in a few seconds, put the can down and grab the tab.

"Oh, if you don't cool it down yet, will it swell later?"

"Shut up."

"Is it good? Is it really good?"

Suoh caused a jerk, even though he was skeptical of Totsuka. Immediately after that, a column of brown bubbles stood in front of him.

It's bright enough to be inadvertently overlooked, with cola bubbles gushing from the open can.

Shining in the light of the city center at night, the tail sprouted out with a refreshing sound and fell on Suoh's head.

"……"

Suoh stared at Totsuka's face, glue dripping from the tip of his chin.

Totsuka was also blessed with the cola and his face was drenched.

"Fu."

Totsuka laughed as if he couldn't bear it. He shakes his wet head like a dog to get rid of the water, holds his stomach and laughs.

"Ahahahahaha, I didn't think it'd gush out until now. Wow, I got wet too."

"I shook it."

"It would have been safe if you had cooled your face properly. Anyway, I've never seen such a good way to release. Unsurprisingly, King has something!"

Suoh was in awe of Totsuka, who laughed and wanted to take a picture.

He has never seen anyone approach Suoh like this ordinary stupid student.

After all, this is probably stupid.

"Fu."

Suoh laughed inadvertently. Certainly the current way of squirting glue was quite wonderful. Is a carbonated drink something that spreads great?

Something was wrong with something that didn't matter. It felt cold and a little comfortable when it came down, and it was slimy with peripheral skin and was sticky. When he rubbed his lips, it was sweet.

It's rubbish, it's not good, but it's kind of weird.

When he saw it, Totsuka had round eyes.

Looking back to see why he made that grimace, he smiled more than ever.

"Haha, King laughed!"

Totsuka laughs happier than before.

Suddenly, Suoh hit Totsuka's head lightly with his fist. Totsuka held his head as if it had hurt, but was laughing.

Suoh pointed with his mouth and capped the glue that was left in the can. When he tried to walk with Totsuka who was still laughing without discipline, he felt the signals of several people approaching him.

"Totsuka, what are you doing?"

"That person is Suoh Mikoto, right?"

They were the guys who were with Totsuka at the game center a little while ago. The smell of hostility isn't even dust. Just a little fear and a little curiosity mix and get closer.

Totsuka finally laughs and looks at the guys who seem to be friends.

"Ah, yes. Suoh Mikoto."

He said the name they just said, and after that, Totsuka…

"He's King!" Totsuka added.

"Why King?" "It's a nickname?" The boys mysteriously bowed their heads and Totsuka responded with a smile. Inevitably, he was dressed to be surrounded by boys even with Suoh.

While standing in the center of the children and drinking cola, Suoh suddenly remembered his teacher's words.

(When someone who can easily break through the walls that seem to surround you appears, you will become a central figure among the people. As if the things of now have never happened.)

It smelled of annoyance. But for some reason it wasn't unpleasant.

++++++++++

Nogi played with a butterfly knife in his hand as he endured the tingling of his lean body huddled and beaten.

Rhythmically, the metallic sound of the knife opening and closing sounds soft. The blade and handle of the knife flap like a butterfly and rotate as the wrist is moved slightly. After practicing a lot, he has been able to do it without being too conscious of his hands.

"Damn it, what is that 'Mikoto Beast'!"

Sakata angrily hits the table hard with his fist. The boastful muscles that stretched from the black tank top trembled. Suoh fainted him, but he woke up while being carried. It seems like his pride got hurt because he was suddenly stretched out, and his face was still bright red from a while ago with embarrassment and anger.

Kyosuke was cooling his face with a wet towel. The hair in the back is untied, and the blonde hair sticks to the face. This man in parentheses was worried that his front teeth had been broken and he had been silent for a while. The blood-soaked front teeth are carefully tucked away in the breast pocket.

The three were in a bar, where an acquaintance worked part time. The interior, which was based on black, was dark, and not very clean. The store was empty, with just a couple drinking cocktails and a hooded man sitting with his back to the back table.

Glancing sideways at the wild trees spreading negative aura in the wind after the fight, the pair secretly exchange words with a disgusting face as if they were planning to go home. The single male guest didn't even turn around.

Nogi, Sakata, and Kyosuke were members of Mitsuha Kurayama's team.

Kurayama was strong, bad, and cool. They even felt that they could take over the world if they followed him. He felt like Hidekichi Toyomi, who was a peasant who followed Nobunaga Oda.

Nogi has been crazy since he was a kid. His house was poor and his parents were not interested in Nogi. His face was not ugly, but there was nothing to see, and the slim body was somewhat ugly. Still, he was good when he was in elementary school. He had athletic nerves, so if he could play sports, he could rank high in elementary school and among the neighborhood kids.

However, since he was in high school, he has been ridiculed a lot. At best, he had no passion or patience to pursue a sport, and he immediately threw it away. Nogi, who was used to being treated as mere leftovers, joined the bad group. When it came to bad luck, few people were stupid in front of him. Being a feared man didn't feel bad. Even with a face that had nothing to do with it, if he dressed in street fashion and behaved appropriately, he could play with a woman who roamed the city. It got even more fun after he started dating Sakata and Kyosuke, whom he met in town. Sakata, who is big and proud of his power, is a bit fluffy to ruin the leader's style, but his fighting strength is good, so if he was riding that horse, Nogi could also dominate. Kyosuke, who is proud of the number of women he has, is annoying and conceited, but if he stayed with him, he could get along with a woman.

He kept chasing only the funny things in front of him. He felt that if he followed Mitsuha Kurayama, he might see more funny eyes. So one day when Mitsuha suddenly disappeared, he was confused.

It is said that Mitsuha Kurayama was crushed by Suoh and disappeared as Suoh ordered. What a fucking brat.

And although the three attacked together, they suddenly lost.

Crash, crash, crash.

The opening and closing of the knife Nogi is playing with becomes violent with irritation.

Suddenly, Nogi remembered the high school student who was on Suoh's side. In fact, he met him before. From the above situation, it seems likely that he does not remember the other side.

Nogi and Totsuka met while hanging out at Shizume. The guys who were walking together at that time knew each other. In other words, the relationship is from acquaintances to acquaintances. Acquaintances started talking to each other, so somehow everyone in the place knew each other. He forgets what they were talking about, but Nogi showed Totsuka a knife action.

With just a slight snap on his wrist, he can instantly open and close the bent knife. Seeing the knife spinning with a slight metallic sound, Totsuka's eyes twinkled, "It's amazing!" It was just nice to be respected. He was in a good mood and told him the various heroic stories that he had lived through so far. He talks about the kind of fight he experiences, what kind of bad things he did, and how scared he was. Totsuka didn't spew out the words of respect that he had when he saw the action of the knife, he just said, "Hmm. If you do that, you're an ordinary person."

It was a bit stuffy. He felt as if a painful part had been hit. Nogi is an "ordinary person", as Totsuka says, when he is not with anyone. He was only strong when he was with someone and he could be great.

However, Totsuka's words were so clear that he was sick, but not angry. Somewhere in his heart he had the feeling that he was convinced it was so.

When he remembered that moment, his feeling of frustration spun and he calmed down. He means, it doesn't matter.

Nogi closes the blade of the knife and stops his hand.

"Now it is okay."

Mitsuha Kurayama is gone. He respected his with a strong feeling of admiration for being a dark hero, but he lost to Suoh Mikoto, abandoned the team members, and ran away somewhere.

It may be time to return to the "common person." Nogi is already eighteen years old. He can't avoid it forever and has to find a job to eat.

Sakata looked Nogi in the eye.

"Will you withdraw without revenge?"

"Ok. Mitsuha lost to him and ran away with his tail between his legs. What does it mean for us to get revenge?"

"One, even if I put Mitsuha-san aside, the truth is that he beat us! Let's just leave it at that!"

Even with that, Nogi inwardly thinks that they can't beat him. Kyosuke was silent and compared Nogi and Sakata with sullen eyes.

Nogi searches for a reason to be okay with Suoh, and as if he had guessed it, he sharpened his mouth and said carelessly.

"Did you see who the Beast Mikoto was with? It's a boy. Is the beast with a boy like that? Let's throw he away. It's worth it."

It is a vain defeat. Still, it was better than admitting that he couldn't get his hands or legs out. Sakata still has an angry red-black face, and even if he is looking for a counterargument, he moves his mouth.

"It's worth it, isn't it?"

Suddenly, he hear a voice behind Nogi. The hair on the neck is erect.

He turned around to repel it. The bent butterfly knife slips from his sweaty hands and rolls across the floor with a thud.

A man stood up.

It has a slim but strong body. How to lose weight with firm muscles, which is different from normal weight loss. He wore a hood over his eyes, but he took it off. Sharp, deeply carved features and golden hair were exposed. And the upper half of the right ear, decorated with five piercings, does not exist as if it were torn off.

Nogi pursed his lips. The breathing and heartbeat are faster.

"Mitsuha-san…"

It was Earless Mitsuha.

This man who was a wolf made a team and quickly made it huge. Fearful of being violent, he suddenly abandoned his huge team and disappeared.

Mitsuha Kurayama is right in front of him.

Nogi swallowed the words. The other two are also amazed. Sakata, who had turned his face red and black with anger until a while ago, now has a fair complexion, and Kyosuke, who was worried about his broken teeth, is also opening his mouth.

"Suoh is it worth the effort?"

Kurayama said again. He bows his head with an innocent look like a child.

He was afraid of the innocent gesture. He felt anxiety throughout his body that he did not know what to do in the next moment.

Kurayama has a 500 ml bottle of Deutsche Beer in one hand. He moves with a slight movement.

If he weren't good at drinking or were already drunk, beer that overflows from the edge of his mouth runs down his chin.

"Mitsuha-san… you are here. Why until now…"

He says with a shaking voice. Originally, he was a bloody person. Even his assistants did not know where he usually lives, and in the end, Nogi was unable to contact Kurayama directly.

He does not recall exchanging words face to face except for greetings.

Kurayama picked up Nogi's knife that had fallen under his feet and started to play with it in his hand.

With an insecure hand, it looks like he is about to cut his hand. He is apparently not used to handling knives.

"I had to disappear a bit, so I hid."

Kurayama opened his mouth lazily.

"Why?"

"I promised."

Kurayama said in a completely confused childish tone. Sakata asks intimidatingly with a confused face.

"Who did you promise?"

"To Suoh Mikoto."

Nogi and his colleagues instinctively looked at the name. It bothered them that the name, which was heavily wrapped as a cause of Mitsuha's pain, anger and abandonment, was emitted from Kurayama's mouth.

"Did you fight Suoh Mikoto?"

When Sakata asked that question, Kurayama nodded.

"And I lost. I promised to hear what he said if I lost, so I had to disappear. That's it."

Kurayama says while playing with the knife. Although he was slow a while ago, he improved in no time and the speed of opening and closing the knife increased steadily.

Nogi swallowed the words. Kurayama seems sincere. Still, he didn't understand why he was bound by the promise to Suoh. Kurayama looked at Nogi's face. It makes he feel like he has read his inner feelings in his expression. Kurayama actually seems to have read his heart.

"I was looking forward to keeping my promise to Mikoto. That guy is interesting, isn't he?"

He had no choice but to nod at Kurayama from a distance. Nogi and the others tug their jaws awkwardly.

"Suoh Mikoto it's worth it, isn't it?"

Worth it. Nogi's spine chills when he remembers his words, which he said as a loss. He nodded deeply again, trying to get into Kurayama's mood.

Kurayama returned a smile. The hands that turn the knife are becoming more and more sophisticated, almost the same as those of Nogi, who has been practicing for a long time.

"I promised to disappear, but now I am free. Please ask me about my entertainment."

Kurayama intimately fixed the knife he was playing with like a sword. He throws it out suddenly. Nogi's entire body stiffened.

He immediately thought it would kill him.

Kurayama threw the knife. Fly straight into Nogi's face. Nogi couldn't react and suffocated.

The knife grabbed right next to Nogi and flew back.

"Oh, in the middle."

Mitsuha Kurayama said happily.

Looking back, the knife was stuck in the center of the dart board at the back of the tent.

Sweat trickled down his armpits. It hits so hard it hurts his heart.

Kurayama smiled innocently and said, "So, will you ask me?"

++++++++++

"Oh, Tatara. Isn't that funny to you?"

As soon as he opened the door, Mikio Ishigami, Totsuka's father, said. When he returned for the first time in a week and the first greeting made Totsuka, who was preparing a meal in the kitchen, a little surprised.

"Welcome back, uncle. For the moment, don't say it now."

"Yes, I'm home. And... sorry, I had a light when I ran away."

Ishigami looks uncomfortable and has a shy smile. Apparently, when he escapes from debt collectors, he feels guilty for Totsuka.

Totsuka's uncle Mikio Ishigami is a bastard.

The look is medium in size, and while he's not particularly cool, he does look like someone not unpleasant, and he looks quite young thanks to the naturally permed fluffy hair that doesn't seem too bad. He has a friendly personality and is not a bad guy. However, he was a selfish person and could only do what he liked.

What's worse, gambling makes up a large part of his "favorite". The Ishigami family were poor to a level that felt life-threatening at times, as they only worked when they felt like it, and the money they put in quickly melted into the gamble. When Totsuka was a child, he used to gather wild grass and cook because he ate alone while Ishigami was away. Thanks to that, Totsuka is still familiar with edible herb.

"Yeah. Debt collectors wouldn't even catch me and sell me."

"If they sell you, I'll buy you back correctly."

"Should I thank you?"

"It's okay if you think you're on a big ship. I've made money and paid the debt."

"Oh, did you win? Horse racing? Boat race?"

"The horse listened to my wish."

"Hey, then I have to thank the horse."

After making a slight exchange, Totsuka remembers his uncle's first words and bows his head.

"By the way, did I look happy? I'm crazy about potatoes."

"No, I don't think it's fun to do it now..."

Ishigami sits in front of the chabudai and puts on a thoughtful face. Totsuka returned to his frying pan. The potatoes are starting to brown nicely. The oil entwined with the potatoes made a delicious sound.

"You always manage to live without leaving me fragile and without coming home for a while, and I always find something fun."

"You should have fun, right?"

"Of course, it's better to have fun."

Ishigami nodded and then looked at Totsuka more closely again.

"However, I feel like something is a little different from the usual "it seems fun". I think it seems like you've found more "cool stuff"..."

Totsuka opened his eyes. He never thought this guy would say such a thing.

"Uncle, isn't it amazing?"

"Is that true? After all, I am you..."

Ishigami said it with a good face, and along the way, he looked like he was in trouble and made him cover his mouth. He tries to say, "I am your father", but it seems like he got scared along the way. This person wants to be Totsuka's father, but runs away to avoid facing the role of a father. No, he knows that a parent's position of responsibility just isn't right for him in the first place.

"I've been living with you for a long time."

"Yes."

Totsuka smiled at Ishigami. Ishigami also laughs like he's relieved.

"So what happened?"

"I met a great person. Maybe the world will change."

"A woman?"

"Is a man."

"What?"

Ishigami was disappointed, and easily shifted his interest from the subject to the issue at hand.

"What are you doing anyway?"

"Potatoes."

When he came home from school today, the neighbor shared the potatoes that her relatives sent her. She is a person who usually cares about Totsuka and gives him (the last time she gave him gobo tea).

"Potatoes? In other words, is it a potato?"

"Yes. I can't make meaty potatoes because I can't buy meat. But the seasoning is meat-potato-style, and I use the potatoes with no waste. When I bake the skin-on potatoes until golden brown, they are fragrant and delicious."

His face glowed as he lifted and displayed the contents of the pan that was on the stove in the kitchen.

"Relieve me. I have money today. If it's meat, I'll buy the best. Marbling."

"Man, I don't use marbling for the beef potato."

"Well then what should I buy?"

"Okay, I'll buy it."

When Totsuka smiled, Ishigami nodded and took the crumpled 10,000-yen bill out of his pocket and presented it.

"You can buy whatever you want."

"Are you really rich today?"

When Totsuka laughs and receives the money, he goes to the front door and says he will go.

"Tatara."

"Yes?"

When he was called and looked back, Ishigami also had a shy and awkward smile on his face.

"Sorry, for several things."

Totsuka had trouble answering for a moment, but immediately thought that it was not a word for an answer, and left the house saying, "Meat, but wait for it."

The days have gotten longer recently. It is almost night, but there is no sign of sunset and the sky is a beautiful blue.

The weather is unstable at this time of the season change, and while it looked like a summer production before, it was a bit chilly today.

Totsuka walks down the path to a nearby supermarket while looking up at the sky. When he reached into his pocket, the ticket he received from Ishigami made a loud noise.

Ishigami is the type of person who has no money to transfer. Even if he does get money, he will spend it immediately, so there is basically no way to raise his standard of living.

However, Totsuka had no complaints. He thought it would be nice if Ishigami had fun, and he is not dissatisfied with living with Ishigami. Even in a slightly difficult life, he can enjoy the ingenuity of living there and living happily.

However, generally speaking, Totsuka was an unhappy child. The person who picked him up when he was abandoned, was divorced (the person who was Ishigami's wife was drawn to his kindness and joined, but became desperate over his inability to live). Totsuka lives alone with his uncle, who does not earn much money and leaves Totsuka, who is still a child, alone at home and is out for days.

Once, Totsuka's living conditions were judged, he was deemed to have suffered abuse and was about to be protected.

It was a bad situation for Totsuka, so he survived with his own ability, and Ishigami also survived by acting like a real human being.

If Ishigami was burdened by Totsuka's existence, it would have been safe to go to another sheltered place, and he would be sure that he could live happily again. However, as Ishigami was willing to live with Totsuka as always, he was not convinced that they would take him out as a poor child.

He think he should escape from a difficult place. Totsuka is by no means a patient child. It doesn't feel like he is enduring a difficult life. So Totsuka is not sure that the place is difficult.

It should be difficult due to this situation. He is sorry for him and for this situation. It was calmer for Totsuka to have such a frame than unrelated people trying to cover him.

Ishigami doesn't seem to have such a "frame".

Suddenly, Totsuka thought of Suoh with someone.

Usually, he doesn't "frame" anyone. No, he himself exists as a natural thing in the world, he hates "frames" that try to fit all humans.

When Totsuka met Suoh, he thought he was like a lion.

Those who live instinctively without being bound by the human framework.

He really felt that he could see the aura coming out of his body. In words, it's just a feeling of intimidation, but the moment he sees it, Totsuka is big and strong.

He felt that he met a beast that lived in the desert. But in fact, this is not a desert.

In the city where many humans live pushing "marks" against each other, the beast seemed terribly difficult to live there.

Looking at the beast that walks through the city in search of a desert that does not exist, Totsuka wanted to show the beast that there is also something fun in this city.

He still doesn't know what to do, but he follows Suoh as he is driven by that urge.

He would like to show "fun" to Suoh, who seems to be crouched, stiff and frustrated, and see where he goes.

(You one day...)

When the words that a person said to Totsuka when he was a child crossed his mind, it had a strong impact on his back.

Something slammed into his back with force, and Totsuka choked and flew forward. He hit the street and rub the asphalt hard. The impact on his back was so strong that he felt nothing immediately, but when he got up with his arms raised, he felt a hot tingle on his rubbed cheeks.

"What…"

Totsuka looks back.

What he saw there was the silhouette of three men. One of the silhouettes carried a long stick that looked like square wood in his hand. Backlit, the sprayed stick looked like a black shadow.

"Eh?"

Unaware of the situation, Totsuka watched the stick go down.

The stick was knocked down on the left side of Totsuka. The impact to the limbs and severe pain tore through him.

A crushed voice escaped from the back of his throat.

When the sight that had been torn away for a moment returned from the shock, the struck foot felt hot and painful, and, on the contrary, the body felt terribly cold. Sweat breaks out.

Scared by severe pain, Totsuka raised his face as he curled up on the ground as if he was holding his injured leg. Look at the faces of the three men around him.

It was a familiar face. The other day, a trio who sold a fight to Suoh and got beaten up. A large, muscular man, a man of medium height with long blond hair down his back, and a tall, thin man. There was a uniform smile on their faces. A face that seems to be afraid of something, but is undoubtedly drunk with the uplifting sense of violence.

There was only one possible reason for them to attack Totsuka. Finding an outlet for anger with a weak man who was on Suoh's side, despite the pain and shame at having lost to Suoh.

(Hey, I get away fast.)

He remembered his words to Suoh. The escape leg was crushed. He can't even stand up, not just run. Most of the time he has a hard time.

Then he should try talking to them. Even when entangled with someone, Totsuka was good at removing damage from that person by speaking.

But now the pain is distracting him, and nothing comes out of his mouth except a harsh, rapid breath.

The big man let out a laugh like a sigh.

"If you have a grudge, face Suoh."

At the same time, he kicks Totsuka's shoulder who was lying on his back.

The blond man also gave a tight laugh and jumped on Totsuka's belly and stepped on him. He could not breathe due to the strong shock and pain. A feeling of fear that internal organs are about to explode hits him.

From there it was already spoiled.

Picked up, hit, rolled and kicked. When he held his arm to protect his body, they kicked him severely and stepped on his finger.

Severe unconscious pain and greasy sweat. The body is shocked by excessive pain, and the stomach turns upside down and vomits.

Totsuka was shaken with pain, but when the surprise of the sudden pain subsided, he felt a part of his head go quiet and his thoughts returned.

This is "violence".

He believes that, as if he realized it in his soul.

So far, he has seen the "violence" up close. He has seen the fight scene and seen Suoh defeat these men in front of him with violence. To some extent, Totsuka has been mistreated by others.

However, now that he has been exposed to an assault that destroys the human body, he has realized for the first time that the core of Totsuka's body is "violence".

These people were completely drugged. They laughed, uttered dirty swear words, almost meaningless. Atrocities make people nervous. Fall into a milky state due to violence.

Unlike the men who were excited by violence, Totsuka, who understood violence and began to move from the turn of confusion and fear to the turn of patience, was calm.

A bit of discomfort was reflected in the men's eyes.

The men are intoxicated and excited by the violence. However, at the end of that expression, there was certainly a color of "fear".

Are you afraid of getting here? Do they feel guilty, even slightly? He tries to find out, but cannot make up his mind.

When he was looking at the men with his body curled up to reduce the damage even slightly, he recognized the thin man. He took a deep breath and said with his lips without cheating.

"I don't want to see sore eyes!"

Saying that as an excuse for something, the man's leg kicked Totsuka in the head like a soccer ball.

His consciousness darkened, as if the lights in the room were off.

[thoseofgreatambition]

GOOD POINTS PT 2. || LAID BARE

pt 1 

desc: you wound up as fred’s healer somehow. after years of squabbling and bullying each other. for some reason, the poor bastard began coming to you for comfort. well, you did know the reason after all. watching your twin die would send anyone to do odd things, wouldn’t it? mundane deaths were always the most painful.

a/n: hope y’all like this! i haven’t seen a george dies! au before and i thought it’d be fun to write. if you love me let me gooooooooooooo leave feedback!

warnings: death, sickness, angst, no proofreading

taglist: @harrysweasleys @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @ickle-ronniekins @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester @parker-potters @deafgirltingz @utahjoerdis @highly-acidic @feffffffy @stuckindilemma @jenniweaslee @ohcrap11 @melodymari @teenamericana @slytherinshadowhunterraven @vidhi01 @malfoysweasley @coolepowersthings @lespaceboi @tinybuttercups @peachesandpinks 

You frowned at the man at your doorstep. The way he leant on his cane. The absolute look of distaste on his face as he stared at you. The bundle in his free hand that appeared to hold food.

“If you keep coming to my house I can’t be your healer, Weasley.”

He’d never once directed a proper smile your way. A happy one. One that made you feel like he was glad to see you. Instead the halfhearted grin on his face reminded you of your years in Hogwarts, where he was angry at you and joyful of besting you at the same time.

“Would you really kick out the sick man whose best friend and brother died?”

“Of course. I’m not losing my job because you’re sad, Fred.”

The look of pain on his face was enough to soften your heart. Not to mention the fact that he’d missed your last check-in.

Or the white knuckled grip on his cane. The wobble in his knees.

You stepped aside to allow him entry into your home. “Come in, this is a check up then. Hope you brought some money with you. I’ve got to make a living somehow.”

“Course I did. Never knew you one to be charitable after all.”

You rolled your eyes before closing the door. There were no qualms in your soul about being rude to Fred.

Aside from the whole ‘do no harm’, business.

“Shut up, sit down, and take off your shirt.”

The good thing about Fred Weasley, though you rarely thought of any, was that he was a pretty cooperative patient. 

From a purely objective standpoint, you supposed he was nice to look at as well. “Why are you here Weasley?” you strode over and began to gently prod at his back to check on the various lumps and bruises you’d seen a few weeks back. “How’s the physical therapy going?” 

The truth was that the flat was too quiet. The burrow was too quiet. Before there had always been noise. George snoring. George tinkering. George chiding him like their mother. George reading on the little chair in their old room. 

It was gone. It was gone and there was no one to talk about it. Mum got sad. Dad kept giving him that heartbreaking look. Fred was painfully aware of how loved he was. 

But something made him feel as if he couldn’t speak around them. 

There was no expectations with you though. No emotional attachments. There was something freeing about speaking to someone you’d hated growing up. As long as you were ready for retorts that could hurt as much as the barbs you sent. 

“It’s hard to talk to my family. Easier to talk to you.” He hissed as you prodded at an especially sensitive spot. “It’s going good. I went on a walk yesterday around the alley. My back and knees hurt a lot, but I didn’t get too winded.” 

“Surprised you want to talk to the woman who made you cry no less than five times when we were younger.” 

Fred frowned, “Thought you wanted to move past that.” 

You only shrugged. “Pants off. Let me check your knees. What kind of stretches have you been doing?” 

“Don’t you buy someone dinner first?”

“Don’t reckon I’d want to fuck you right now, since you can’t hardly move without pain. That’s not something I’m into.” 

With a smirk, you noticed his chest flush red as he got out of his trousers, just to sit back down at your kitchen table in his boxers. Your fingers felt far too warm on his knees as you gently prodded at them. 

“George would like you, you know.” 

You quirked a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Thought he’d hate me. I was awful rude to the poor guy.” 

What an awful ending for a good man. Even if you didn’t like him. Not a hero’s ending. A smashed foot while cleaning up from the battle. Septic shock. Dead in less than three days. 

Fred hadn’t even been released from the hospital. 

Even you’d heard all the Weasley’s joking about the odds of them all making it out alive. 

“You’re a good healer. He’d have liked you.” 

You frowned, as you heard Fred’s chest shudder. From your view on your knees, softly checking his legs you could see his painful grip on the chair. The cuticles on his hands picked raw. The bandages on his right hand that made you wonder what he’d punched to hurt himself. 

Fred was crying. 

You weren’t sure how to help him. 

Standing up you looked down at him with a frown, gently cupping his cheek. Fred never would have thought of you as gentle, when you were younger. 

“Why me?” you kept your voice soft, as if you were afraid of making him cry more. 

“George always said I was too mean to you. And you were to me.” He wiped his eyes with his bandaged hand and moved from your touch. “Felt right to come here.” 

With a flick of your wand, you summoned your first aid kit, and took his hand. You sat down beside him at the table and began to work on the damaged fingers. “It’d be awful stupid of you to fuck up your wand hand, Fred. I’ll curse it off of you if I think you’ll just ruin it.” 

If you didn’t know better, and only listened to Fred’s voice you would have thought he was smiling at you. 

“It’s nice to see some things haven’t changed.” 

There was another quip on your tongue, another sharp remark until you looked up and saw him giving you a teary smile. A proper one. One with loads of sharp remarks behind it. Little barbs that you could throw back at him full speed. 

But a proper one nonetheless. One you’d never seen him show you before. 

It only made you frown more. 

“Fred. We can be friends, but it has to end at that. I’m your healer.” 

The smile was gone like that, as if he felt violated that you’d read him so deep down into his soul. “Reckon I already knew that. You just said you wouldn’t shag me.” 

Once again you felt comfortable. A friendly Fred wasn’t one you knew how to deal with. “It’s called standards Weasley. Can’t just put out for everyone. I’d be too tired for my morning shifts.” 

Another first. You heard him laugh. 

How strange. You knew how to patch him up, but lacked any common sense when it came to being friendly to him. 

You chewed on your lip as you straightened yourself up, peering at your finished work. “What’s in the bag you brought?” 

Like an afterthought, he grabbed it from the table and withdrew several small boxes loaded with pastries. “Mum wanted to thank you for healing me.” 

While the smell was amazing, you couldn’t help but look at Fred with suspicion. “What’d you do to these?” 

“Nothing.” 

He was smiling at you again. It made the hairs on your arm raise up. “Why?” 

“George told me to be nicer. I want to try.” 

You broke off a piece of a hand pie and sniffed it, ignoring the snicker from Fred. 

Something finally clicked. The reason that he’d come. 

“It’s been a year, hasn’t it?” 

Fred took a hand pie of his own, and nodded. A year since he last saw George breathing. Sweating and scared in the hospital bed next to his. A year since the screaming that didn’t seem to end for weeks and weeks. 

“Yeah.” Fred had stopped smiling for you. You doubted you would see it for the rest of the night. “A year since he’s died.” 

There was plenty you didn’t understand still. But things seemed to fall into place a bit more after that. 

“Stay the night then. And know I’ll knock you out if you punch any of my walls.” 

“So comforting.” 

“You’re almost completely naked in my kitchen Weasley, be grateful I’m not making any comments about that. 

“Fuck off, Y/N.” 

“You first.” 

[sopxhiea]

Reckless

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Sabini makes an appearance.

| Prompt

“You’re going to burn in a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for child molesters, animal abusers and people who talk at the theatre.”

He was humming a low melody, one you recognised but couldn’t exactly pinpoint. It could’ve been something from the station for all you knew but you couldn’t put your finger on it, it was ought to bug you today.

The weather was quite lovely, spring was upon the city and the weather seemed to chirp up all the creatures that took shelter in the usual state of the city. You’d seen too many people around in the morning, just walking or playing around more than usual commotion, summer would come along soon.

You shifted your weight between your feet, leaning back on the wooden wall while the bulky man watched you. They’d told you that he was for protection, you didn’t need protection. He was the biggest guy you’d seen in a long time but something about him was familiar, strangely close to your heart. Your gaze traveled across his at first, finding a blank canvas of nothingness.

He was supposed to be here.

Alfie had called you in for a meeting with another gangster. He hadn’t told you who the other man was but you trusted him enough. You’d worked with him on numerous occasions and you knew he wouldn’t go so far as to pull something behind your back, he knew you’d kill him if he did.

You’d hesitate but you’d still cut his throat if he betrayed you.

You walked towards the heavy doors while the bulky man followed you, calling you ‘miss’ and telling you to stay where you were. He should’ve known better than to order you around. You turned towards him in one swift motion, eyes cold as ice while his gaze escaped yours. 

After successfully scaring him off, you kicked down the door to Alfie’s office. He had told you he’d be with you in a few moments after greeting you at the door but he had also been the one to disappear into that office of his. His eyes looked at your figure when the loud noise of the door hitting the wall filled the spacious room.

Ollie’s mouth was agape.

It wasn’t the first time you’d kicked down a door, certainly not the first time you’d kicked down his door. You scoffed, seeing him knees deep in paper work. You had things to take care of, people to chase but there he was making you wait. He didn’t say anything but got up instead, you gave him a mocking smile as he talked.

“What’s got ye bothered, woman?” he spoke, getting his jacket.

You were supposed to meet the other guy an hour ago but he was far from being present. You scoffed again, a sarcastic expression on your face as he stared at you. 

He knew how to get you fired, the sparks beneath your pupils were glistening. He mostly did it because it was amusing to him, entertaining to a point of slight arousal for the tall man.

“Where the hell is the men?” you said, following his built form through the corridors of the distillery. “You said the meeting would take place an hour ago!” you raised your voice while stepping in front of him, he stopped when his much bigger form towered above your small one. 

“’m takin’ ya’ to the fuckin’ spot.” he said, calm and clear. You rolled your eyes before stepping out of the way with a loud sigh. He was so frustrating sometimes.

You were an agent of sorts, gathered information and killed when the occasion occurred. You stole for millionaires and accompanied rich man to dinners, only to hog information from their daft minds. You’d done business with Alfie more than a few times til now, he had hired you and worked with you on robbing some very powerful people and he said he had a new proposition for you and that explained your being in his distilliery.

The man was rough on the edges, blunt and way too stubborn. He was mostly agitated and didn’t like to negotiate but you’d managed to bring him down a little and snatch a few terms of your own to every work you did together.

He also happened to be brilliant, he was sharp and undeniably handsome. You overlooked the last fact most of the time, mostly because it had nothing to do with business and you didn’t intend on getting distracted by the tall man walking in front of you.

He also happened to be the only man able to fight the fire you had inside.

You had a quick wit, playful banter and cutting words were your specialty. You did your job well because you could speak your way into anything. It was sometimes an old man’s secret box or a classy event, you always got your way.

Your appearance helped, too.

Alfie knew you were smart, way too devious and rather sly compared to a person your age. You were younger than him but he was sure you’d had more experience killing men than he did, including his war memories. He enjoyed battling with you when it came to it, you were quick on your feet and a word he said would never go unanswered.

But you were also extremely captivating. Your look was one out of a dream, it helped you in your line of business. He’d expected a skeleton looking woman in her older years when they’d told him about all the things you did, he thought they were simply too many to fit in a young life out of logic.

Instead, he’d met an alluring young woman who held her chin high. 

Ollie opened the door to the storage space rather loudly while you followed Alfie’s bigger form, right behind his side. Your eyes met the men inside, there were about fifteen young ones dressed in grey suits, one older man dressed in a creamy suit.

You hated his face.

You made a sour face when your eyes met his, he was the boss for sure but he had something unlikeable about him, you didn’t know what it was. Alfie walked in front of you, not shaking the man’s hand when he was about to sit but instead, showing him the seat with his hand while the other rested on his cane.

You watched them sit as many other males stood standing. The room was tense but it didn’t affect you. You sat down loudly, crossing your legs in a not-so-ladylike manner while everyone else looked at you, not Alfie.

He was used to it.

You offered the man a smile as Alfie cleared his throat, his attention brought to Alfie once again while you threw your arm around the chair you were sitting, it was a comfortable position but definitely not appropriate.

“‘ello, Alfie.” the boss of the other party spoke, his voice was more dreadful than you’d thought it would be.

You shook your head.

“‘ello, mate.” Alfie greeted back as Ollie stared at the man before him.

The boss turned to you, eyes scanning your rather awkward sitting position while you offered him a sheepish smile. Your first impressions were always a favourite of Alfie’s.

“Who’s the lady?” he spoke, sarcasm apparent in his voice while you stared right back at him. Alfie was about to speak but he knew better than to not let you have a go at Sabini.

“Why are you asking?” you spoke, eyes half closed while Sabini watched you sit up on the chair.

“I wouldn’t want word to get ou-” he spoke, you cut him off after understanding the point of the unfinished sentence. It was supposed to a be secret meeting and you were a stranger.

“I’m Alfie’s friend.” you spoke, Alfie’s amused eyes met yours and you winked at the familiar face.

Sabini seemed dumfounded until Alfie spoke, his eyes motioning at you while his voice filled the room. “My friend.” he almost smiled.

Your daring eyes met Sabini’s and instead of dwelling on the peculiar subject, he moved on to talk about the details. You listened intently but the tone of his voice started to get boring after the fist twenty minutes. You shifted on the chair again, throwing one leg on top of the other and moving your foot up and down.

Your foot remained on its own for a while until it hit Alfie’s much larger one. He didn’t react as he listened to the man before him so you nudged his foot again, making him move in his place. You touched his foot again once more, a little more persistently this time which made him turn to you with a low smile.

“...pet..” he said, warning you.

It was a wonder that you still hadn’t slept with him, you thought to yourself.

You’d come close, almost had him have you in dinner parties right then and there but you’d somehow gotten out of it. You knew how to tease him and he loved to tease you back, you were still wondering how his plump lips tasted after holding yourself back for the past two years of working with the man.

He recognised your gaze, lust swimming in your orbs as his lips parted. He mirrored the expression in your eyes, going from casual business Alfie to a hungry version of himself. 

You were fire and he liked to play with fire.

You both held each others’ gazes for more than a minute and some more before Sabini spoke up. He was unable to read the energy between you and Alfie, unlike Ollie who had flushed cheeks from the intense stares you were giving Alfie.

“What the fuck is going on?” Sabini raised his voice after his last two questions were ignored. You didn’t even know what he’d asked.

You both turned to the man but you were quicker than Alfie in terms of action. Standing up, you inched closer to Sabini’s face with hands on the table. He leaned back when you got all over his face, you were seething with anger. You spoke into his face as he watched you fire up.

“You’re going to burn in a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for child molesters, animal abusers and people who talk at the theatre.”

He chuckled weakly at first, not realising that you had a small blade right under your finger that was inching closer to his throat. All his men got their guns out in the next second, everyone was standing up now that guns were out except Alfie who kept on watching you.

The contract was long forgotten.

You let Sabini’s collar go and leaned back, you were still standing when you fixed your hair a little and spoke. All the guns were pointed at you except the ones on Alfie’s men had on their hands.

“I’m not gonna kill you..” you said, a smile on your lips Alfie was too familiar with. “..not today, anyway. I’m wearing a new dress.” you chuckled at the end of your sentence and the last remark made all men look at you once more.

You looked like you were meant to be reading poetry under a tree, not dealing with dirty old men and their meaningless words.

Alfie chuckled at your words, his eyes sparkled with admiration and lust. You sat back down and put your elbows on the shared table as Sabini’s assistant kept his mouth open.

“The contract will be signed by Alfie and me.” you spoke, letting the man know of the participants of the deal.

“And I think it’s fucking underwhelming for someone with your reputation..” you shook your head as he stared at you with shock on his face. “I’m not signing it..” you smiled innocently before finishing your sentence. “...because it sucks.”

You leaned back on the chair, letting the man absorb the weight of your own words while Alfie chuckled at you, he loved seeing you like this.

He stuttered at first, found it hard to speak because he felt insulted, and he was. You watched as he screamed at you, anger and frustration evident in his eyes as he spoke the words a little too loudly. You let him unleash the feelings, watching him get up and throw a couple punches. He then started screaming at Alfie, calling you all sorts of things and blaming him for such a bad scene.

He wouldn’t let the words go but he knew you were just warming up so he let Sabini be.

He sat down with a heavy chest while you watched him calm down. “You’re done?” you asked, he didn’t say anything.

“A bitch?”  you asked, talking about his latest remark about you.

“How original!” you gave him a smile while Alfie watched you dig your finger on his knee, the small blade went all the way through while his men just stared at the scene, guns ready in their hands but they just froze.

You got up, Alfie watched you as you straightened down your dress and gave him a smile.  You would see Alfie soon about all this but you were too tired for this. He was glad you could even come, the blade on Sabini’s knee was the perk of it. Your hand rested on Alfie’s shoulder while you said your goodbye to him, turning Sabini not too long after for the final farewell.

“I’ll see you in hell.”

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

May i request a hc or fic of Liora, Zhora and Vivienne finding out that their girlfriend has been psychologically/emotionally abused by their parents.

VIVIENNE WARNINGS APPLY: Mentions of Homophobia, external and internalized Mentions of Strict/Bullying parents. Mention of Conversion Camp -  Drugging, Negative association therapy, IMPLIED forced masturbation, illness and cane usage. Mention of controlling, forceful, cheating partner. Self Blaming. Spoilers for route. A writer trying a hand at serious Angst. WRITTEN BY @evoedBD +++++++++++++

How many times could she do this? How many times would she dash herself upon the rocks and drive Silvana to raise the shield between them? How many times would her own actions lead to that one-word spilling from gorgeous lips?

“Red.”

The word was safety. A shield. An absolute. It was the uncrossable line, a barrier reinforced by projected personas and deadly kisses. It was woven into a portrait of femininity, as delicate and deadly as any nightshade. It was warmth from the cold, comfort from leering eyes that aimed to feast just below the hemline of short black dresses, or dip beneath the shadowy garbs of lace. Now, safety was turned against her. Such a simple word suddenly tore at her heart, became the blood staining her hands as she attempted to understand how she had plunged the knife into the loving artist’s heart. Was this the price she had to pay to keep any form of happiness? Was she to continue to devastate those she cared for most just to feel a slither of comfort?

There was nothing she could do but freeze. She was rendered helpless in the face of Silvana’s tears; a net trying to hold the tide at bay. Silvana’s tears did not come with violent sobs and reaction, that was perhaps what was most terrifying of all. Silvana’s tears were fat, plummeting from her eyes, down her cheeks and off the point of her chin to mix with the paints laid out before her. They were so silent, so defeated that Vivienne felt as if she were struck. Vivienne trembled so violently long legs could no longer hold her. She dropped her rump to the floor, sliding down the wall until her knees were tucked protectively against her chest. Crushing her breast to her heart, as if the pressure could stop sorrow flooding her veins with every steady beat. Silently, she waited, watching Silvana simply mix the paints. Mix, and mix, and mix… lost in the simple action, as if her mind was elsewhere. The glaze to her chocolate eyes was not that glaze of looking into a world only she could see, was not the fogginess of an artist bringing a vision to life. This was darker, enough to shadow the vibrance usually seen across Silvana’s face.

“I was 14.” Silvana finally broke the silence. Vivienne lifted her head, body instantly on alert, ready to leap into the fray to battle off the demons haunting Silvana… except, she couldn’t. Memories had no physical form, nor consciousness to battle. To fight them would be to lay hands on Silvana; to play cruel mind games with Silvana. That was not something Vivienne was prepared to do, not again.

“I’m Cuban American, you know this.”

Vivienne could only nod. Of course she knew this, the information had not been difficult for a world class thieving gang to acquire when scouting for their forgery artist.

“Dad was born in the states, so he was a little less strict, but my family is religious. Highly religious. Old school, even. I was 14 when I made the mistake of talking about this girl I’d seen. I didn’t know I was bisexual then, or why I was so drawn to her, only that she was beautiful and funny, and her laugh made my stomach flutter and I couldn’t get her off my mind. My parents wanted to help, they were scared I would go to hell, that the Devil had me. My uncle and the pastors convinced them I was beyond prayer. That only the most faithful could save me… so my parents sent me to conversion camp.” Silvana stopped, lips quivering, breath laboured. She closed her eyes against the flood of memories, taking a deep breath to centre herself.

“Sil-” Vivienne never even got to finish that name before said woman cut her off.

“Vivi. Please. If you talk…” Silvana’s voice broke. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

“I need to just get through this.” The artist pleaded; it was not the type of begging Vivienne would ever wish to hear fall from her lips. The seductress was once more robbed of her words when she gazed at Silvana’s face. The light was gone, as if trapped behind glistening layers of frosted glass which dulled chocolate eyes. Full lips fell into a frown, burdened by the weight of everything Silvana needed to say. It was enough to slice through Vivienne’s thick skin, to pierce her heart. At Vivienne’s meek nod, Silvana took another deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to reveal.

“Camp was… they drugged me. They deliberately made me ill as they showed me… or they forced me to… sin. Sin until I was sick. If I didn’t, the Nuns had canes and…” Silvana swallowed, shaking her head violently, as if she could dislodge the nightmares. Vivienne was almost sick. A hiccup of a sob escaped her. Her hand flew up to her mouth, covering her horrified expressions and stifling the wounded sounds about to escape on Silvana’s behalf. If only that was all Silvana had to say, all she’d endured. Unfortunately, Vivienne could already see, already knew that it was the iceberg in an ocean of abuse in the name of therapy.

“I can’t…” Silvana’s whisper was bittersweet. Selfishly, Vivienne was thankful. She hadn’t used her most waterproof makeup, and anymore was bound to turn her into a blubbering mess. Or a vengeful demon upon the church. The world was not ready for the vengeance she could plan, even without laying a finger on a single soul. Even if she had to charm and seduce every Priest, every Nun and even the Saints themselves. She would have them crooning their sins as ballads, confessing how many victims there were of their crimes… and if they did not? The Poppy had the power to make those crimes a reality, and to seize their treasures while they were at it.

“Once I got home, my parents kept treating me as if I was sick. If I mentioned any girls, Mom would make me spend hours praying to a painting of Jesus. Dad just… he blamed himself. Thought that all the stories he taught me to love took me from God. Everybody at school and Church knew. Lots of them made jokes about it all the time. I was so scared and disgusted and confused, but I couldn’t ask anybody for help. I couldn’t trust them. I prayed. Every day I prayed so hard for those feelings to go away. To not look at some women and… want them in the way I wanted some men. I kept looking for guys, the type of guys a good Godly woman should want, but there weren’t any. Until I got a summer job with one of my father’s friends, working with his son. We were both adults, but he was older and had a very, well, “strong” personality.” Silvana’s tone left little to the imagination. Vivienne, for all her twenty-six years of emotional and physical conditioning, couldn’t resist flinching. She didn’t want to hear it, hear what she already had her suspicions had happened. She knew Silvana had faced mistreatment, the artist had confessed as much after doubting Vivienne, arguing in the streets of Saint Petersburg. She’d confessed to small things which had damaged her trust, and those little things were enough for Vivienne to see red all over again. The Seductress bristled, pressing her back to the wall as she braved the storm Silvana was unleashing. It was better this way, that Silvana was not alone in the floods anymore. They were family, and Vivienne was all too willing to cast aside the sickly feeling in her gut to give Silvana a moment of peace.

“He saw how I looked at some of the boys my age, and some of the girls too. He was the first person aside form Claudia who wasn’t mean about it. He was really charming and kind, a little controlling, but it wasn’t like what I’d seen on TV. I didn’t realise it was so bad. He’d bring me flowers and wear this dapper suit to Sunday mass. He supported my arts, even would buy me these lovely paints. But it was always his way, you know? Every time he wanted something, we did it. I was too scared to ask for help, so it went unchecked. It just kept escalating. At first it was little things, like letting him pay or going where he wanted to on dates. Then it was what he wanted to eat, or the dress he wanted me to wear. Then it was he wanted me to… service him. Eventually, he wanted full blown sex. I kept saying I wasn’t ready, and he didn’t force me, but he kept trying to convince me. Kept pushing, until it was easier just to agree than come up with reasons not to. He wasn’t mean or rough, just pushy. I told my parents, but they wouldn’t listen to me. The devil had touched me, and I had to pray it away. His dad was so respected in the Church, he was too, and it wasn’t like he forced me, right? He just made some comments and I just caved. Whatever he wanted. He kept me on my knees like a good little girl, like a nun for God he used to say… until my mother caught us. Then I was tempting him, I was threatening to expose him if he didn’t do it. He was already going to marry me, so he agreed to fooling around out of wedlock to save me from the Devil.”

“He sounds positively charming.” Vivienne commented dryly. Her face contorted into a vicious frown, eyes almost firing lasers in her outrage on Silvana’s behalf.

“Yeah, well, not two weeks after we left for college, he was sleeping with other girls. He thanked me for being such a good girl for him, for getting him out of his home and taking the heat for him. Turns out, he had a flock of eager girls. They all kept quiet because they saw how the Church cast me out. I was just a scapegoat and a means to an end. I was easy.” The Cuban artist shrugged her shoulders, as if she could deflect her pain like water off a duck’s feathers. She couldn’t conceal how her lips shivered, parting around painful breaths she tried to keep silent. The flowing floral dress didn’t conceal how her sides heaved, nor how her shoulders caved. Accepting. Defeated. It was not a look Vivienne ever wanted to see again.

“Silvana. What he did was unacceptable.” There was nothing else Vivienne could say. She longed to. In every language she knew, she longed to cuss and spit until her voice left her and her throat was raw. Until she tasted blood for everything Silvana had endured. Perhaps she could ask Zoe to find this man, then pay him a visit. Be the worldly seductress of his dreams, only to cast him into deathly nightmares with her poisoned kiss. Members of the Poppy had built immunity to her poisons, to her charms and games, but the one who had hurt Silvana? Vivienne knew his type. He would be easy. Effortless.

“I didn’t know how to say no back then. I had so much catching up to do once I got away from the strict religious family. My first girlfriend dumped me after a few months. The Art Chic was adorable and sexy, but she wasn’t looking for a project. She didn’t want to deal with the religious guilt. She wasn’t in it for the long haul. That’s ok, I mean, I needed to learn more about myself too. But, I kept finding those types of partners. Pushy, looking for something casual and easy, not treating me respectfully. Maybe that’s why the Poppy didn’t bother me too much, it wasn’t personal or vindictive.”

“I’m sorry.” The words were careful and considered, gifted to the artist with the utmost sincerity. Vivienne’s manipulation had perhaps been the most personal of all, even if it was for different reasons. For weeks, months even, she had helped stalk the artist. Gathering information. Assessing her talents, her position, her life. Nausea struck Vivienne’s gut like a tsunami, rising like the tide up her throat. Every breath she claimed was like breathing through a hurricane in her lungs. She had probably seen those people. Ones who had hurt Silvana. Those who had convinced the artistic wonder that she was not good enough to succeed. Vivienne had been so close to them, close enough to have dealt with them. To have spared Silvana some of this pain, possibly, and she’d done nothing.

“Viv. You didn’t manipulate me like they did.” Silvana offered comfort, though Vivienne found it lacking. Weak. Dishonest. Vivienne Tang most certainly had manipulated. Everything was so beautifully orchestrated, the melodic notes in a lifelong melody, falling into place like aligned dominos. From their first meeting, Vivienne’s purred compliments, the touch of pearls. Vivienne had played the role to a fantasy, the worldly, older woman leading a young artist into a world of glamour, of crime and mystery. She’d played the role as if she were to be upon the silver screen. The mentor. The romantic interest. She’d let Silvana think her much older, let Silvana drown in the mysteries she wove. Any romance upon the screen needed to end with a kiss and a tragedy, and Vivienne had delivered to perfection. Poisoned lipstick, the whisper of an apology in her throat. How was this not like the others who’d used Silvana in the past?

“I played with your emotions, poisoned you, then abandoned you in a strange city.” Vivienne pointed out, guilt turning her tongue to led. She wished she could claim her guilt was because she was, somewhere, deep down, a good person. That she regretted using the Artist like she had because it was not the kind thing to do. However much she wished she could deflect that crime to her duties to the Poppy, she could not. Not fully. That had been her choice and hers alone. Her panic when someone had grazed the walls around her mind and heart. Someone had gotten under her scales. That was precisely it. Silvana had worked her way into the hearts of the tight knit Poppy, had earned her place amongst their little family. Vivienne only felt guilty because it was Silvana specifically. A girl she was attached to. Loyal to. Someone in her heart, nestled alongside Nikolai, Remy, Jett, Leon and Zoe. Had Silvana not infiltrated her heart, Vivienne would never even batter an eyelid. She was, after all, a selfish creature. A viper who took what she wanted and left the corpse to the vultures to pick over. Left her marks for lesser thieves to squabble over like starved wolves.

“Yeah, that hurt, I can’t lie. But Viv, we worked through everything. I chased you, The Poppy, half way around the continent to do it. And I won’t lie and say we had it easy, but we got there. We faced it. We’re ok. We’re a team, family. I don’t hold any of that against you. Just, your comment, this piece. The heist. It brings back memories.”

“You are so much bigger than all of them. Silvana Mendo, you have painted your name across the world. Your forgeries hang in some of the finest galleries, fooling the greatest critics and adoring eyes by the thousands, still undiscovered years later. All those people who doubted you are meaningless fools. Please, zaika, do not let them drag you from the stars.” Vivienne’s voice was gentle, her pleading sincere. She lowered her knees, shifting until she was kneeling close to the artist, a devotee at the feet of a deity. The way Silvana’s lips curled into a sad smile was lancing; left Vivienne’s emotions bleeding from her in the form of answering tears. Eyeliner ran like charcoal down ashen cheeks, mirroring what she was staring at. She longed to fix this, wished she had the answers to make everything better. All she had were pretty words. Pretty words and small gestures.

“I know, but it isn’t always easy to feel like I know it. You’ve helped me become a more confident version of myself. Taught me how to fend those people off. Just, some days it feels as if my insecurity will break me.”

Vivienne scarcely registered removing one of her long silken gloves, only that her fingers felt bare against her poisoned lips. Her deadly kiss, meant with the most pure of intentions. It was stupid. As if such a minor gesture could give anything back to Silvana. As if it could mend wounds. The best it could so was send her loopy once the poison soaked into her pores. Vivienne caught her hand half extended, reaching towards the light, trying to drag it back into the Artist’s soul. She froze. Was she truly worthy? She had acted just the same as people who’d hurt the Cuban, what gave HER the right to try to fix it. One look at Silvana gave her the answer. It was so simple, as sure as the sun rose and set. As sure as the ground was beneath their knees. Silvana gave her the right, even without uttering a single word. Deep brown eyes implored Vivienne to close the distance, to try to tend to these gaping wounds. Both women watched Vivienne’s hand tremble as she closed the distance. A gentle brush of fingertips, delivering intent without risking a lipstick stain. Then, Vivienne was lost, running long fingers through frizzy hair in an effort to pull it away from a damp face. To reveal the beauty it was currently concealing.

“Then I’ll do my best to piece you back together. As many times as I must.” Vivienne vowed, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her gloved hand lifted, gently curling around Silvana’s cheek. With her removed glove Vivienne dabbed at Silvana’s cheeks, wiped her runny nose, fretted over every smudge of paint. She remained there, dabbing delicately at the mess until Silvana’s tears ran dry. Until fussing earned soft laughter and playful comments. It was a far cry from Silvana’s most joyful, but it was a step. Vivienne already knew this would happen again. These dark memories would eat at the Artist, but Vivienne was determined to hold on. To keep the pieces together, even if it meant her own hands were sliced open. Even if it hurt. For all the treasures she had seen, all the riches she had stolen, nothing could compare to Silvana. The angel on her shoulder. The woman who embodied safety. The being who was her safe haven.

If Vivienne Tang had to bleed for something, she chose Silvana.

Every. Single. Time.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 25

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 25: Everything’s closing in on Tommy and he knows he needs to act.

           Tommy stepped into his study to find Alfie standing by the window in a wide-brimmed hat.

“Good morning, Alfie.” He made a beeline to the liquor cart.

The man didn’t turn around as he answered. “Yeah it is. Nice little place you got here, Thomas.” He remarked and turned around, relying on his cane to walk over. “Pleasant staff, s’well. Concerned ‘bout you, they are, said you’re not supposed to drink. What did your housekeeper say? That your head is like some smashed vase that’s been stuck back together by a horse. That right?”

Tommy didn’t say anything as he poured himself a glass of whiskey and went to sit down.

“So why’m I here, aye? Which problem of yours do you want me to come in and wave me magic wand for? ‘Cause word ‘round London is you’ve got a lot of fucking problems, mate. Lot of fucking problems. And as much as I know you enjoy me company, I can bet a lot of money that this visit wasn’t just to say hello.” Alfie sat down as well.

“You’re correct.” Tommy needed Alfie’s help, in order to secure that, he knew he needed to appeal to the man. This wasn’t the time for their famous face-offs with guns and threats.

“You’ve lost control, haven’t you, hm?” He rested his hands on the top of his cane, his rings on full display. “’Bout time innit? You’ve been hanging on to a thread for quite some time, haven’t you?”

Tommy downed his whiskey and set the crystal glass on his desk. “I’ve got control, Alfie, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“That right?” Alfie raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Tell me then, oh wise one, d’you even know if she’s still alive?”

Somehow, the information about Kate had been passed to Alfie. Tommy couldn’t exactly remember how; his memory was still spotty. He couldn’t remember if he had sent a telegram before the injury, or he’d told Ada to send word. It didn’t matter. He pulled out a piece of paper from inside his jacket pocket. Notes he’d gotten from one of his men in America. “Twenty-six Prince Street, Boston, Massachusetts. It’s a four-story brick townhouse across from a church and a park. She takes a walk every morning around seven down the street to the docks. She leaves right before he leaves for work.”

Alfie narrowed his eyes. It was some relief to hear Kate was still alive, but that didn’t mean she was safe. “Yeah? Think you’re smart with that little information, aye? What do you plan on doing ‘bout it?”

“You help me with business here and the second it’s done; I’ll go over to America. When Kate’s on her walk, I’ll kill him for invading my territory, putting his hands on a woman, and threatening my life and the lives of my family. It’s up to Kate whether she wants to come back or not.”

Alfie leaned back, flexing his fingers with a dissatisfied look. “By a thread, Tommy, you’re hanging on by a thread. Can see it in your eyes. But, since I’m such a giving fellow, I’ll help you out with whatever madness you can cook up. You ain't the only one who wants that fucker dead.”

The corner of Tommy’s lips turned up a bit. “Very well. Let’s bring in the rest of the troops.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate didn’t mind the wind. She didn’t mind the chilling sting it whipped across her cheeks. She didn’t mind her hair getting mussed up. She didn’t mind because the wind came from the ocean. It carried the salt-scent through the air and made her feel alive again. It reminded her of the times her mother took her to Revere Beach in the summer. The water was brutally cold pretty much year-round. But that never stopped her from wading along the shoreline, gathering shells or hermit crabs.

The ocean made her feel young. It made her feel nostalgic. It made her feel sad.

The ocean had taken her father. Stumbling drunk, he had fallen into the ocean and drowned. His body washed up two days before her eighteenth birthday. That’s when she was training to be accepted into a ballet company. And to raise funds, she stole her father’s identity to conduct business. Illegal business.

Kate thought about this on her way to the ocean’s edge. It was something she could be thankful for, that she now lived so close to the water’s edge. It was less than a mile’s walk down the street from the apartment. From there, she followed the ocean, walking along the sidewalk that led to various parks. She would find a place to sit to look out over the harbor and watch boats pass by.

She thought about all the things she didn’t tell Tommy. All the lies she kept.

Still, she wasn’t too caught up in her thoughts to neglect her surroundings. No, she’d been mindful of her environment for weeks. Mostly because she was nearly positive someone was following her. Well, three men, actually. And one of them looked sneakily familiar.

One of those men, the tall one with sandy blond hair, was following her.

Kate wasn’t scared. Hell, she was already in a life or death situation every day of the week. Someone tracking her in broad daylight wasn’t anything to be scared of. But she was very curious. And that day, she would get her answer.

Kate stopped at a railing that overlooked the wharf. She rested her arms on the top rail, keeping her eyes out over the dark gray-blue ocean. She waited until the man was close enough.

He paused at the railing at a good distance from her. Pulling out a cigarette, he looked like just a normal bystander. But she knew better. “Y’know, you ought to tell Tommy to be a bit more discrete.”

At the sound of his employer’s name, the man jerked his head in her direction and completely blew his cover.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Besides, I recognize you from being around the betting shop. He should’ve picked people who I never met. I would think that would be his first criteria.”

The man swallowed and approached her cautiously. “Miss Lynch, Mr. Shelby was just…”

Kate sighed. “I know what he’s doing. I guess I don’t blame him.” She admitted. Seeing how uncomfortable the man looked, she figured he wasn’t meant to be talking to her. “What’s your name again?”

“Patrick, ma’am.” He answered.

“That’s right.” She nodded. “It’s alright. I’m not going to tattle on you.” She smiled weakly and bit her lip. It felt wrong to even talk to him though. She had made her decision, what good was it to lead Tommy on? To give him false hope? But she couldn’t help herself. “How is he?”

Patrick’s brow furrowed as he frowned. “Well, he was roughed up pretty bad couple of months ago.” He admitted. “Had to get brain surgery, they weren’t sure if he were even gonna make it at first.”

Kate’s heart dropped. “What?” She gasped in shock.

“S’alright now. ‘Least that’s what he says over the telephone.

“God…” She held a hand to her mouth in disbelief. “How did it…” But Kate paused. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what trouble Tommy was getting into. Would it only make her hurt more? Would it make her want to go back even when she knew she couldn’t? Everything in her wanted to know who put Tommy in the hospital. She wanted to make them pay. But it was just in her nature, as well as having so much frustration and anger pent up in her that she was ready to fight anyone.

“Miss?” Patrick noticed her eyes went a bit glassy as she looked past him.

“I’m okay.” She blinked a few times and shook her head. “So, what’s his plan with you?” She wondered.

“Well, he’s got business to finish up back home.” The young man looked uneasy telling her anything. He’d been under strict orders not to say anything. But he didn’t expect her to even notice they were watching her. “Said he would come over here to give us the rest of the money for the job. Other than that, he didn’t say.”

Kate felt like her heart was in her throat. “Well…that can’t happen.” She suddenly felt panicked that Tommy was making a plan to come to her rescue. And she had learned a while ago that once he made a plan, he stuck to his guns. What could she do to stop him all the way in America? "He can't-"

“Kate!” A woman called down the street, interrupting the thought.

Suddenly, Kate began to realize she was still in Santo’s territory. Suspicion would be raised if word got around that she was talking to a mysterious man. She couldn't talk to anyone without everything she said getting back to him. “Tonight, I’m going to need a letter on this bench.” She whispered to Patrick. “Take it and get it to Tommy, somehow.”

“But…”

“Go, go!” She shooed him off and turned to see who was calling to her. Patrick slipped away, with his hands in his pockets.

Anita, the dressmaker approached from down the sidewalk. “Dear, I’m so glad I ran into you.”

“Everything okay?” Kate smiled. She liked the company of the woman who was making her wedding dress. Even though the wedding was the last thing Kate wanted to think of, Anita made it a pleasant experience.

“Yes! I’m almost finished with the bodice of your dress. Isn’t that exciting?” Anita smiled, assuming it would be a happy moment for the bride-to-be.

After hearing the news about Tommy, Kate’s heart was already in pieces. So, the news didn’t help. “Oh, Anita, that’s-” Her voice broke and she couldn't say anything more.

The woman frowned in concern. “What’s wrong, hun?”

“I just, I’m overwhelmed with everything right now.” Kate tried to brush off her response as something a harried bride would say.

“That’s understandable. Weddings are so much work. But it’ll all be worth it in the end.” Anita promised, lightening up a bit. “Well, I have to run. Come by soon to try on the bodice, make sure it fits right.”

“I will, thanks.” Kate sighed under her breath and turned back to the ocean. She felt like she was drowning.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Mr. Shelby?”

Tommy was in the foyer, finishing putting on his cufflinks. It was the morning the orphanage was opening in Birmingham. Despite everything that happened, Tommy decided to keep Grace’s name on the foundation. After all, it was her effort and passion. It wouldn’t be fair to take it from her.

“Yes, Mary?”

Tommy’s maid came into the foyer with a slip of paper. “Telegram came for you.”

“Thank you, could you call the car around?”

“Of course.”

Tommy read over the address the telegram had come from.

Boston, Massachusetts. Patrick McCormick.

Kate recognized me. Wanted to send you a message. Freedom. Beauty. Truth. Love. Stay where you are, Nature Boy. Your family is your greatest thing. Said you’d know what it meant.

Tommy felt lightheaded. It could’ve been because he was mostly subsisting on cigarettes and whiskey those days. “Fuck.” He whispered as he rubbed his weary eyes. He should’ve known Kate would recognize Patrick. He knew how perceptive she was and knew they had met at one point.

Maybe he’d wanted this. Maybe that’s why he sent Patrick. He knew Kate would recognize him. That would alert her that he was still thinking of her. Convey that he was going to bring her home.

He sighed and tucked the telegram into his inside jacket pocket. He needed to get this plan done. There was no telling what might happen to Kate if he took any longer. And with every passing day, Tommy felt more and more hellbent on killing Santo Leoni. The man had lived long enough. "Mary!" He called. "Need you to send a telegram for me!"

///Next chapter is when everything really heats up. That slow burn is gonna get REAL HOT

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997

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Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[sideblogformindtrash]

Thank you @cupcakes-and-pain​ @starnight-whump​ and everyone else who sent asks <3

Sunflower Masterlist

CW: Shock collar; dehumanization; pet whup; conditioning; beating/cane; scars; mentioned gag, forced exercise, starvation, sleep deprivation, domestic labor; controlling behavior;

Abby shifted on her chair, smiling as she started to read the questions, the control of the shock collar on her hands. Sun sat with perfect posture, still, very still, hands over his knees. Good pet. Abby was skimming over the questions, the camera already filming.

“Alright… Let’s begin. Let’s do the questions first, we can record the intro later. I’ll start with an easy one” …A Pause “…For Abby and Sun, what is your favorite color? Well, for me, I’d say I love happy colors like yellow and oranges. I also really enjoy soft pinks and beiges as you guys must have noticed from my fashion choices! What about you, Sun?”

…A little pause. His… favorite color? Was he allowed an opinion on colors, even?

“I think… Green?”

“… Green is not a creative color , Sun” Abby rolled her eyes “Say your favorite color is yellow as well. Like a sunflower. And sound more enthusiastic about it”

“Alright Miss Abby. I apologize” A pause. Deep breath. He smiled“…My favorite color is yellow, too! It’s a very happy color, and, the color of my hair!”

…A few seconds, so they could make the cut.

“…Okay, perfect. Let’s see… Are the two of you introverts or extroverts?” She gave him a quick glance, she would handle this one “Well, I’ve always seem myself as more on the extroverted side. I’ve always had an easy time approaching people and making friends. Sun here, I’d say he is more of an introvert, he Is pretty shy, always nervous when I bring visitors. Right Sun?”

“Yes, Miss Abby”

“Alright, next question… How many pets I had before Sun, if I had any experience” Miss Abby smiled, softly “Well, Sun is the first pet I consider to be mine. But my family has had pets ever since I was a child, so I’d say I have plenty of experience dealing with them. I can count we’ve had about… Five pets from when I was young to when I moved out by myself and got Sun. Honestly I wasn’t planning on getting one at first, I always felt like they take a lot of time, but you know, the house just wasn’t the same without one of them running around. I guess after being so used to them, it’s hard to not have one. It’s also a lot less lonely now with Sun. I wasn’t used to living by myself at all, it was always just… A little too silent, you guys know?”

Sun struggled to keep his head up. Good pets kept their head down but… He had to look at the camera. To look good. Abby sighed. She didn’t like this answer, so she started it again. He wondered how many times they would have to record this today…

When she finally got satisfied, Sun’s face was hurting already, from holding that fake smile. At least she let him get some water.

“Alright… This one is fun! Sun, you’ll say one good and one bad thing about me, and me about you, right?” She smiled, chuckling to the camera. Pause. Lifted the little controller “…Choose what you say carefully, mutt”

“Yes… Sorry Miss Abby” He dry swallowed. Maybe asking would be better “Is… Hm, what can I say?”

Abby smiled.

“…Say I’m a bit too perfectionist. It’s true I guess” she chuckled “And that I’m very dedicated and responsible to you. That works”

…Sun nodded. Alright.

“…So if I had to say something bad about Sun… I think he is a bit of an airhead. Gets distracted all the time, don’t you, dear?” …He nodded again, whispering an agreement “…Louder. Speak louder”

She grunted. He tensed up immediately, seeing her finger flirt with the control of his collar. She repeated herself.

“Alright. And a good thing… Well there is a lot of good. Sun is a really dedicated and hard working pet now that I’ve finalized his training. It took a long time, but he is really good now”

…And he blushed. He didn’t even want to, but he did, and she liked that, smiling to the camera.

“…Why did I choose Sun to be my pet?” she smiled to the camera, Sun shivering slightly, nearly imperceptible “…Well I went to one of the stores. There were plenty of them there of course, but Sun just… caught my eye. Poor thing was so nervous, so shy. I reached my hand and he put his head on it, so eager to come home. So really, Sun picked me, not the opposite! It was just this, instant connection between us…”

…He didn’t remember that happening that way. He was curled up In the corner of his cage. He was scared to be purchased. He didn’t go out until he was dragged. It didn’t matter though. He just agreed. He knew better than to go against her.

“Next is for you Sun, dear. They asking If you like me as an owner, and how was your life before” She smiled, dangling the controller just out of sight of the camera.

“I… Of course I like having Abby. She is a fantastic owner and I couldn’t hope for better. As she said… there was an instant connection between us” …Dry swallowed, hoping it felt authentic enough. Side glance to the controller… “My life before… Wasn’t much. I was just out of training, on a store. Pets live for their owners, I didn’t have one yet, so no life!”

…Miss puts the controller down.

“Alright. But do one more take and try not to look like I have a gun pointed at your head”

“Yes, Miss Abby…” But well… she basically had, dangling the shock collar button around “Hm… Am I allowed some water?”

“Will it help you calm down?”

…He nodded, so she passed him a bottle. He took nearly half of it, before he felt his heart settle a bit, and he could repeat the last question.

“Ooooh” She chuckled “Alright. Someone is asking for training tips, and if Sun had any particular nasty habits that I had to train out of him…”

She shifted on the chair, with a smug smile, as Sun trembled to the core, his face twitching as he tried to keep that smile. He had plenty of habits she had to get rid of.

“Well, yes. He was… Far too lazy when I first got him. Some pets are like that, but I think it wasn’t healthy for Sun” She smiled “…I started to break his bad habits mostly by controlling his sleep schedule and food intake, as well as forcing him to… Exercise quite a bit. Sun is way healthier nowadays, isn’t that right Sun?”

“Yes, Miss Abby”

“Well, punishments. What can I say. I know a lot of other PetTubers are fans of whips and knives. I’m not. I feel like scars are unsightly and greatly decrease your pet’s life quality, so I seek for methods that don’t leave permanent marks. I will admit I do own a cane and use it occasionally, but I’m careful to never leave scarring wounds” She stands up, walking to Sun and grabbing his collar. He yelps. He can’t breathe “This shock collar is my favorite method of punishment and training. It’s fast, clean, quick, and you can correct any bad behavior as soon as you spot it, as opposed to leading the pet to a special area, removing their clothes and preparing the whipping tools or knives. Also, a few days of no sleep or regulated food, also serves as a good reminder of their place.”

“For pets that talk out of place, gags do wonders. Also soap, a cliché as that sounds, to get bad words out of their vocabulary If their training company didn’t already. And one very, very important aspect of training is that you make them do a task to your standards, no matter how long it takes. Can get tiring having to order than to re-do it over and over, but sometimes, they just don’t know your standards yet. You gotta show them! Never accept half-assed chores and tasks, or they’ll start to believe that is acceptable.”

She sat back on the chair, as he takes a deep breath, now even more aware of the thing around his neck.

“Now, for a major infraction, I’d say a combination of all of the above. Of course you can’t overdue any of them” She smiled sweetly “So I might extend punishments through a longer period of time and in small, healthier doses, instead of just applying one that is so bad it incapacitate Sun for a few days”

Sun can’t avoid but lower his head at this. She doesn’t like it… But tried to play it cool

“Oh, look, You don’t like remembering the times you were bad, do you?”

“Of course not, Miss. I’ve learned my lesson. I want to be a good pet for Miss Abby”

…She smiled, probably considering re-doing the take. She decides not to.

“Alright, next question is: do you get hate comments, and what are they about? Was there one video in particular that was deemed very violent and abusive?” …She rolled her eyes. Then read it again, before answering “Oh, dear. My content is usually very chill. But yes and I think I know what you are referring to. I did a collab video a few weeks ago that got some pretty bad reviews… I assume it’s because his channel is a frequent hate target. He has content that is a bit more… raw than my own. But I assure you, both Sun and Blue had a lot of fun that day, and he is a very responsible pet owner, too. We are planning on doing another collab on his channel, in the future”

…Sun felt his heartbeat go crazy. Another one? She hadn’t told him about it. Not that she had to, he was just her dog, after all.

“Aren’t you excited about it, Sun?”

“Yes. I’d love to see Blue again”

…She smiled. She knew he was terrified.

“Well, two more. Someone asked what is your biggest regret. Sun?”

…He lifted his head slightly. He… wished he could even remember it.

“…Being a lazy pet, at the beginning. All the times I disappointed Miss Abby. I’m glad she fixed me and showed me how to be good”

She clicked her tongue, satisfied.

“Last one. Why did I choose Sun’s name… Well” Big, fake smile “I love sunflowers. I love their happy colors, the way they brighten up an environment and bring up the imagery of warmth and summer. I figured a happy name, for a happy pet. Right Sun?”

“…Yes, Miss Abby”

[tirednotflirting]

hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you (and i will hold on to you)

part two to but we were something, don’t you think so?

because I actually cannot stand leaving something too open ended. enjoy.

and if you want it, check it out on ao3 here

It’s a freezing cold, early Tuesday morning when Luke sees Ashton for the first time since the almost (but not quite) meeting at the stoplight at the edge of campus.

(This time it’s been 5 months and 4 days since he last saw Ashton. Back then his hair was longer and his attire was hardly weather appropriate. Luke had been paralyzed by memories and a thousand different what if possibilities, none of which had come true.)

It had been quite a hectic morning up to that point. Luke’s alarm had failed to go off (again) and it's the last day he’ll be meeting for his Advanced Linear Algebra course and it’s pretty vital that he make it to that lecture so he knows what to focus on for the final they’re having the next week. He rushes around the apartment, cursing Calum silently for not waking him. He knows it isn’t his roommate’s responsibility to keep track of Luke’s oversleeping habit but they’ve been living together for two years now and Luke has definitely had to wake Calum up to get to exams on time before. 

He rushes through an augmented version of his morning routine, quickly brushing his teeth and shoving a beanie over his bedhead curls, momentarily thankful for the cold that required something to cover his ears. He trips over himself as he pulls on a pair of jeans while shoving his textbooks and journals into his backpack. On his way out the door, Luke hastily locks it since he isn’t sure if Calum ended up back in his bedroom the night before or if he stayed with Michael again. He skips waiting for the elevator to race down the stairs and out the front door of his complex.

He’s finished running the first block when he feels his phone buzz and he’s already winded so he figures stopping for a quick second to check the message (likely one from Calum if he is home to ask why Luke slammed the front door) wouldn’t hurt. Only the notification wasn’t a text, it was an email from Luke’s professor.

My wife and I caught some bug over the weekend so class today will be canceled. I am sad to miss our last meeting but please feel free to come with any questions to my extended office hours later this week. Attached is the concept guide for the final I planned to go over today. Happy studying.

Luke takes a deep breath in through the nose and imagines the air he can see from the cold after exhaling to be all of the anger he feels at having to rush through the apartment for nothing. He considers for a moment just turning around and getting in some more rest since his next class isn’t until 3. But he’s got the study guide now and he is (unfortunately) awake, so he starts toward the university still but figures he can reward himself for not going back home with a coffee from the shop just off campus. 

Though tired still, Luke walks briskly to the shop since he had only grabbed his cardigan that he leaves hanging by the door since he couldn’t be bothered to hunt around for his coat. Especially so because he’s pretty sure it may still be in the back of Michael’s car anyway. He doesn’t live too far from campus though so soon enough, he’s pushing against the door to enter the warm shop. 

He’s always loved this place. The exposed brick and odd collection of thrift store comfy chairs and tables make the shop look like a scene out of a TV show about college or something and Luke lives for any cheesy college experience he can get. He especially loves it there in the winter, when he knows he can step inside with a bright red nose and immediately be enveloped with a cinnamon scented warmth that the chain places could only ever dream of achieving. 

He steps to the counter and orders one of the seasonal lattes to have in a mug rather than a to go cup and after providing his name and paying the kind, blushing girl at the register, he turns to find a spot to cozy up in for the next few hours.

And that’s when he locks eyes with Ashton.

His hair is shorter and red now, like the color on a candy cane but deeper and it matches the blush currently spread across his cheeks. He’s at one of the bigger tables, surrounded by several textbooks and journals. His glasses sit on the edge of his nose, threatening to fall onto the pages in front of him. The dark sweater he has on is the kind that makes his hazel eyes appear a bit darker around the edges. 

Luke’s attention is briefly drawn away from him when he hears his name called from the counter and he jumps just slightly and before quickly turning to go get the mug, he swears he sees a smirk play at the edges of Ashton’s lips. 

He reaches the counter and thanks the barista and when he turns back, Ashton is standing right in front of him and it takes everything in Luke to not drop the mug of sugary coffee. His momentary observation about Ashton’s eyes is emphasized further now that they stand only a couple feet away from one another, the closest they’ve been physically in nearly 18 months.

“Would you like to join me at my table?” Ashton asks, the words coming out quick but with a tone of hesitation, as though his brain was fighting against his lips on whether or not to ask. 

Luke had imagined a moment almost exactly like this a million different ways. Only recently had he given up on the idea of ever running into him again, of being asked to join him for a meeting that would become another big, Hollywood produced moment in Luke’s memory. However, in every one of those fantasies that Luke had allowed to play out in his mind, he had failed to factor in what it would feel like to hear the forgotten voice of a lost love. He felt like he had been betrayed by his own memories because the voice he had been hearing as he tried to sleep wasn’t the exact tone or depth of what he had just heard again. 

After a moment, Luke releases the breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding in as he speaks just one word. “Yes.”

He follows Ashton back to the table, letting his bag fall off his shoulder to gently land at the floor and sets his mug down a safe distance from the big, scary law textbooks Ashton has opened up on the table. He takes a seat but keeps his feet tucked below his chair, worried that any direct physical contact might cause a forest fire or something. “Are you already studying for the bar then?”

Ashton’s brows shoot up as he takes his place on the opposite side of the table. “Oh, um yes,” he nods quickly, a faint blush still painted on his cheeks. “I’m taking the exam at the beginning of June but I haven’t taken a look at some of this stuff in ages, you know?”

Luke nods slowly, remembering the times they would lie in bed together after Ashton had been accepted to their university’s law program and Luke would run his fingers up and down his back while listening to Ashton speak excitedly about far off exams and internships. He had told him all about it because Luke was supposed to be there, cheering him on while he read and interpreted case files. A lot had changed. 

He’s pulling his textbook out of his bag and setting it on the table while trying to think of more to say when Ashton speaks first. “Linear Algebra? Were you able to get into Henderson’s course? I know you always talked about him like he was a rock star during registration week.”

Luke’s throat feels dry and he’s wondering if this is all maybe actually a dream. Like maybe he’ll wake up in a few minutes to the alarm he thought he missed this morning and this is all just his subconscious playing a really cruel joke on him. “Yeah, our last lecture was meant to be this morning but he’s sick and,” Luke pauses for a moment and takes another deep breath and sip of his drink and realizes he cannot make small talk with someone who used to be his entire world. “Ashton, what’s going on?”

Ashton licks his lips before opening his mouth as though to respond but Luke cuts him off. “You dumped me with no warning at all because you were worried about making his law thing work and now you’re inviting me to sit with you while you study for the bar and my head is spinning.”

“I miss you.”

“Wha-”

“And I know that’s bullshit and I know it's been like a year and a half and I know that I saw you in the summer and I didn’t say anything and that was probably the worst thing I’ve ever done,” he speaks quickly, something like panic at the edge of his words. “I let my insecurity get the best of me. I convinced myself I wasn’t going to be good enough at this and that I would have to spend all my time working on all of this and that I wouldn’t have enough time left to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. I was so scared of us turning into an afterthought in my mind.”

“So rather than talking to me you just ended it so we wouldn’t have to be a thought at all?” Luke scoffs. 

“I wanted to give you the world. I wanted you to be my world. Nothing less than that seemed worthy. And if I wasn’t going to be able to give that to you, I didn’t want to keep you from the possibility of finding someone who could.”

“Damn it, Ashton,” Luke shakes his head and checks around for people looking to make sure his volume is controlled. “All I wanted was you. Fuck, all I want is you.”

“Even now?” the red headed boy whispers, his eyes just a touch glossy. “Even after July?”

Luke feels a burning at his eyes and immediately blames the cold wind, despite being inside for nearly 15 minutes now. “July ripped my heart apart in a way that I had never felt before. And in a way, I think it was what I needed. Like, it had a sense of finality to it. And I’ve been doing better. But that doesn’t change the fact that I would turn the entire world upside down for you. For us.”

They’re both quiet for a few minutes after that. Luke takes a few more sips of his drink and watches the steam rise from the mug in between each one. Eventually he looks past the steam to where Ashton sits as he takes Luke in. Like he’s trying to see into his thoughts. Eventually he clears his throat and runs a hand through the red tousled curls.

“When I saw you in July, I didn’t say anything because I felt like nothing I could say to you would fix anything. That my trying to fix anything would be like trying to get the toothpaste back in the tube, ya know? But when I got home, I called my therapist and I just told her everything. I had never talked to her about us before because I was too scared of being judged. And when I told her that she told me it was pretty possible that the way I ended things was for the same reason. And so all semester I was trying to find a way to run into you again. And I guess the universe picked for that to happen today.”

“I just wanted to support you. Just wanted to love you,” Luke shakes his head, a sad smile pulling delicately at his cheeks.

“And I was so scared to let you.”

“Would you let me now?” Luke asks and hopes there’s less desperation in his voice than what he senses there to be. “Would you let me take care of you a bit? In the way you always did for me?”

Hesitantly, Ashton lifts his arm from where it’s been resting at this side and reaches a hand out over the papers taking up his half of the tablespace. “I’d love nothing more.”

Luke reaches a hand up and intertwines their fingers while his gaze stays locked with Ashton’s. He lets out a breathy giggle when Ashton moves to rub his thumb in small patterns on Luke’s palm, the blonde’s eyes dropping to where they rest. The hazel eyed boy smiles. “I know this conversation isn’t over and we really do have a lot of ground to cover. But I don’t ever want to go another day without making you laugh.”

Luke’s eyes widen, wondering if Ashton felt the weight of his words in the same way Luke did. But then he looks up from their hands to Ashton’s face again, only to find him nodding with understanding. Slowly, he lets his feet drop from where they’ve pulled below his chair and he feels his boots knock against Ashton’s. Neither make a move to change the position though. Luke bites his lip briefly in thought before replying. “I feel exactly the same.”

The rest of the morning and early afternoon are spent catching up in a way that should have felt strange, given that they were describing their day to day life to someone who they used to start and end every single one with. But it felt easy and it felt right and Ashton had been correct that they needed to sit down and talk through the hard stuff but there was always tomorrow (and every day after that). When it finally got to the time Luke needed to make his way over to the math department for his next class, Ashton offers to walk with him. As they continue conversation on their walk across the campus, Luke can’t help but notice how the whole scene feels like watching an old, beloved movie after not seeing it for a few years. Everything feels so familiar but there’s a new meaning to it, one that couldn’t be seen the first time around. 

When they reach the doors to the building, they stop just before the steps, their hands still tangled together between them. “Would you let me make you dinner tonight? I’ve got the stuff for that pasta thing you always liked and a bottle of red?” 

Luke smirks and lifts a brow, teasingly. “You drink red wine? Proper law student now, huh?” Ashton rolls his eyes but squeezes his palm against Luke’s. “But yes, that sounds nice. What’s the gate code?”

“Still the same.”

Luke lets out a laugh. “I’m sorry, you kept your gate code as your ex’s birthday?”

Ashton shrugs, a grin spreading across his own cheeks. “Listen, I knew I would never forget the code that way.”

Luke blushes, the whole day finally feeling real with that response because it was such an Ashton thing to do. Maybe they did still know each other. “I’ll see you later, Ash.”

“See you soon, Luke.”

They part ways then and Luke makes his way up the steps. He’s just about to reach for the door when something buried deep his mind tells him to turn around. And when he does, their eyes lock again and small matching smiles pull at their lips. And now Luke knows, he never has to worry about Ashton not looking back again.

*

[lonelypond]

A Coffeeshop Christmas Carol, Ch. 1

Love Live, NicoMaki, 5.8K, 1/3

Summary: Maki Nishikino finds herself haunted by Christmas memories as Nico Yazawa enlists her help in putting together the Tudor Conservatory Annual Christmas Pageant. Will their clash be just a collision or the start of something more? Plus, NozoELi shenanigans.

PROLOGUE

Chill in the air, hint of snow on the wind, Christmas only a few days away, dinner plans that might turn into future plans, Nishikino Maki was as excited as she’d ever been for Santa’s arrival as a child. At least in the calm moments when she wasn’t overthinking, like now. Too much excitement, too much pressure, too many thoughts pinballing through her head. Maki stood outside her apartment building, arms full of prickly pine and plants, groceries, and her heart full of...it wasn’t exactly hope. Or maybe it was hope. She was definitely nervous, definitely rehearsing conversations she might have had and might be having with Mako Omine. And now there was this Solstice Eve dinner...or date...or…

The doorman opened the door with a smile and Maki nodded as she rushed past, already behind in her preparations. Fortunately, she’d ordered dinner from her favorite Italian restaurant and only had to put some basic appetizers on a plate. The wine could be opened when her guest arrived. And then…

Maki slid the key into the lock of her apartment, hand trembling. And then...that was the entire worry.

###

Should this feel more comfortable, Maki wondered as she swirled the wine around in her glass, not really listening to Omine as she described her last day of classes.

“I won’t miss that place at all.” Omine sighed, leaning back dramatically and tossing her fair, curly hair over her shoulder.

Maki snapped to instant alert, “What place?”

“Northwestern.”

Panic set in. Maki had obviously missed something; she set her wine glass down before she crushed it. “Why would you miss it?”

“Weren’t you listening at all, Maki? Of course you weren’t.” Omine leaned in, flicking Maki’s forehead as the redheaded future doctor flinched, “Too much going on in that big brain of yours.”

It was a colder laugh than Maki expected. Smart had always been the thing she did well, the area she always excelled at. Was it a problem now?

Maki stood, towering as Omine continued to lounge on the couch, far too casually amused about the tension vibrating from Maki.

“Where are you going?”

“California.”

“California??”

“Beaches, bikinis, no snow San Diego.”

“Why?” Maki winced as her voice cracked.

Another too casual shrug, “Dream job, tired of school, parents tired of paying tuition. I’m not a brainiac like you.”

“I’m not…”

Omine shook her head, standing up to interrupt Maki, and somehow closer than she’d ever been before. “It wouldn’t work, Maki. You’re always off somewhere, nowhere I can find you. And our parents…” A side glance at the mistletoe carefully hung over the piano, “Thanks for the snack, Maki. It’s time for me to finish packing. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Omine.” It was all Maki could say.

And then she was in a hug, but she still couldn’t relax and her brain kept racing through possibilities rather than being in the moment. Should she hug back, ask more questions, not let go, play a song, cry, turn away…

Now the hug was tighter.

“I’ll miss you, Maki.”

Did “don’t go” want to come out of Maki’s mouth? Her arms fell to her side. Omine let go and stared for too long. “Still just standing there?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Maki snapped, “You’re leaving.”

Maki willed the tears not to start as Omine stepped away, “I am.”

Maki turned away, nearly falling into the couch, a grunt her only reply.

Omine was already in her coat. “Take care, Maki.”

The door closed and suddenly, all the pine and green and gold and mistletoe and dreams were tainted, taunts to be torn down.

###

EARLY NOVEMBER, 23 MONTHS LATER

 Maki almost had a flow as the Tudor Conservatory’s Composer In Residence. Piano practice in the aftermorning, lunch, meet with the quintet she was composing for, write, if blocked, pick up random donut shop coffee and take her music to a park. Then lock herself in her studio, avoid social obligations, and listen to darkly humorous heavy metal screamers. This would push HER out of memory, flood Maki’s brain with static so she could avoid falling into the loop of mired in heartbreak composing. It hadn’t really been heartbreak, Maki had never really put her heart out there, on her sleeve, in a selfie, or anywhere. Almost...a grand plan, dinner, mistletoe, but instead there had been Omine excited she was about her new job, across the country. And that had crushed Christmas, Maki’s favorite mood, Maki now finally, finally believed Santa and goodness and joy had NEVER existed. Because if they had, her heart would not have been frozen by unawareness and then shattered by distance. Last Christmas had been the worst. Maki just disappearing into her apartment and an endless stream of anything dark and not Christmasy. And now Christmas was looming again. Halloween, a cheerful dark holiday you could blast The Smiths and Girl In A Coma and weird, darkly humorous old school country bluegrass songs to get through, had just passed so there was no goth line of protection for the broken.

Maki was in a rush. Late to a meeting with Professor Sonoda. And her score was nearly complete. She just needed five minutes, a large table, and a sharp pencil. The campus coffeeshop loomed on the left, the owner, Nozomi Tojo outside and looking like she was about to finish placing the large candy cane she was juggling and talk and Maki had no time for that. A small figure, all bundled up against a bracing wind was walking fast, head down, toward Maki, but Maki prepared to dodge. And then the candy cane flew out of Nozomi’s hand, skittered in front of the woman hustling to the shop, tripping her, the momentum of her fall caught Maki off guard so her score flew everywhere.

“What the…” Maki bit off a profanity, scrambling.

“Watch where you’re going!” The projectile snapped, unexpectedly fierce red eyes glaring.

Maki froze, drawing up to her full height, “Watch where I’m going? Watch where I’m going?”

Nozomi scooped up a sheet of music, “Maki, don’t you need these?”

“Oh hell,” Maki moved to sprint into the street, but felt a strong hand pull her back as a speeding car took half of her score two blocks away. She turned expecting to see Nozomi, instead it was the tiny, sable haired, fiery eyed cause of her new problem.

“Are you stupid?” The woman sounded breathless and scared, but her grip on Maki’s arm didn’t yield.

“That’s my entire score. It’s almost finished. I…” Maki felt like crouching down and covering her head.

Nozomi had collected a handful. “Here. I’ll get the counter girls to run after it.”

“Make me my usual. Nico will help.” Nico released Maki’s arm, shoved a handbag into Nozomi’s arms, and took off down the street, hair streaming behind her. Maki watched, having trouble processing what was happening and clutching a too small stack of music to her chest.

“Maki? Professor Nishikino?”

“Huh?”

Nozomi had a hand on Maki’s shoulder, “Let’s get you inside.”

“I have a meeting.”

“You probably need your music for…”

“Yeah.” Maki walked through the door, found a corner booth that had not been tainted by Christmas decorations, and shoved back in the corner, legs drawn up on the bench.

“Is there someone you can call?”

Maki shook her head, pulling out her phone, texting was always her only option.

M: Sorry, Umi, I’m going to be late. I had an accident.

Immediate response.

U: Are you all right? Were you driving?

M: No, someone tripped into me and scattered my score.

A thump and Maki looked up to see a large stack of papers slammed into the table in front of her.

“They’re not numbered. Didn’t your professors teach you anything?”

“I am a professor.”

The woman sat down in a chair, examining Maki carefully, then shaking her head. “Graduate students shouldn’t pass themselves off as faculty.”

Maki thought that was ironic coming from someone who looked like they might be on their way to their freshman dorm, “Well, I’m glad you’re not in any of my classes. I’d never get anything done.”

“That stupid candy cane tripped Nico. Who puts up Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving?”

Maki’s mood improved. A kindred spirit. “Exactly. Why put them up at all?”

“Bigger tips.” Nozomi announced, carefully placing a huge mug in front of each woman.

“I’ll pay you to skip to…” Maki considered. New Year’s was never really much, Valentine’s Day was frankly disturbing, Easter was for kids…”summer, yeah, beaches, pictures of piers, sandpipers popping along the shore.”

‘I’m sorry, you’ll just have to get in the holiday spirit. Or Santa won’t bring you what you need.” Nozomi winked as she turned.

“Santa.” Maki and Nico both snorted.

Nico considered Maki for a moment, then extended a hand, “I think I rescued most of your pages. I’m Nico Yazawa, Drama and Performance.”

Maki put her phone down, ignoring the text notification, “Maki Nishikino. I’m the composer in residence.”

“Oh.” Nico grinned, “My friend Umi’s been telling me I should talk to you.”

“Why?”

Somehow Nico puffed up like a proud bird showing off its feathers, “Nico’s in charge of this year’s Christmas concert. Everyone asked me to take over and it’s going to be the best one ever.” Nico leaned in, eyes even brighter with excitement than anger, “So Nico needs the best people to work with and since Umi won’t help me, she suggested you.”

“Umi won’t…” Maki was trying to make sense of what Nico was saying, the third person self references and lack of context making it a confusing knot.

Nico coughed, “No, no, Nico misspoke. Umi just thought that if Nico knew you, you would have been Nico’s first choice.”

Was that the other thing that Umi had wanted to talk about at their meeting today? Maki grabbed her phone and pounded out a message.

M: Were you going to talk to me about…

Maki glanced up, “What was your name again?”

Nico’s smile got brighter, although her eyes narrowed, “Nico Yazawa.”

M: Nico Yazawa?

U: Oh good, have you met her? She has A Christmas Carol script she wants to turn into a musical and I thought it might be a good challenge for you…

Maki frowned. Christmas. Ugh. She had been hoping to avoid anything holiday-like by focusing on the Lunar New Year and the twelve movement orchestral suites she had planned out. Most of her colleagues just went “whoa” and “good luck” when she explained the scope of the project.

Maki put her phone down again. Nico was closer, she switched to the chair next to Maki and was reading through Maki’s sheet music.

“Hey!” Maki pulled the pile away from Nico, “You can’t….”

“Pretty good. Nico approves. Although I think they’re out of order.”

Of course they’re out of order; you blew them down the street, Maki screamed inside her head, while her hand reached for whatever Nozomi had placed in front of her. Nico took that as a signal that there would be a break in the conversation and reached for her own mug. Maki wondered if she could just make a run for it, but one hand tugged on a twist of hair and the other raised the mug to her lips. The bitter coffee, no sweetner, no colliding, no demands, was a bracing relief.

Nico stacked the pages, neatly, in an entirely different order. Maki groaned. “Nico will take you out to dinner. We can talk.”

“I have no spare time and multiple ongoing projects.” Maki had the mug in both hands as a rampart against the looming presence of her tablemate.

Nico grabbed Maki’s phone. Maki had gotten lazy and turned her lockscreen to ten minutes so Nico easily swiped into her contacts, then texted herself. “Nico will text you later and we can find a date.”

Maki stood, grabbing her phone back from Nico, “I have a meeting.” She picked up what she hoped was all of her score, “Not with you.”

Nico responded with a wink and a smug confidence that just bolstered Maki’s will to flee. “Nico will wait.”

“Please don’t.” And Maki was out the door, not realizing she hadn’t paid for her drink.

###

Nico had a meeting of her own, and hurried back to campus. She was in charge of the Holiday Pageant, a legendary event that took most of the day on the Solstice and involved all of the students. The head of the dance department was waiting for her in the small dance studio.

Nico opened the door. Eli Ayase was everything that aggravated Nico’s insecurities, tall, blonde, stuck up, probably cool. Nico had never really had more than a passing conversation with the choreographer and former prima ballerina as Ayase was another staff newbie. The dancer was standing at the barre, going through what Nico recognized as the most basic ballet positions in a light blue leotard, white tights, and blue and white striped leg warmers, blonde hair in a ponytail. Nico stood in the doorway, allowing excellence a moment to finish and herself a moment of real appreciation for someone putting in the work.

Eli stepped away from the barre, wiping her forehead with a towel, “Oh, hi, Nico! I always like to go back to the foundation. I’m teaching a beginner’s class for non majors next semester.”

Nico nodded, “Ballet is good exercise.”

“Exactly.” Eli swept out her arm, “And a good way to learn about the meaning in movement.”

Nico knew a few D + P majors who would be interested, “Nico will put out the word.”

Eli nodded, and grabbed her bag, “Want to go to my office?”

“Nah. Nico’s fine here.”

“Efficient. I like that.” Eli pulled her water bottle from her bag before putting it down.

“Have you met the Composer In Residence yet?”

“Nishikino?” Eli shook her head, “No, Don’t know much about her. Apparently, she took some time off from music for med school or something, but decided not to give up the piano.”

“Nico didn’t know that.” Nico leaned back against the barre, stretching out a leg, “So you’re not one of her “ongoing projects”?”

“Not yet. Umi wants me to talk to her about The Nutcracker.”

“Is the hyper dedicated to her job Professor Sonoda turning slacker and passing all her jobs to the newbie?”

Eli laughed, “No, I think she’s just making sure that Nishikino interacts with other people. I heard that for the first month, she didn’t come out of her studio, and you could hear the piano day and night.”

A reclusive workaholic. Nico made a mental note of that. Probably needed some fresh air. A walk around campus and a tour of some of the better local foodie spots might be a pleasant way to get to know each other better on the way to a collegial collaboration. That was a good phrase. Nico made a mental note to use it on Maki.

###

The redhead was pacing back and forth outside the coffeeshop. Nozomi was fascinated. Maki seemed to be having a conversation with herself, would stop, start to head inside, and then begin pacing again. After three customers, Maki was starting to look cold so Nozomi decided to investigate.

“Hi Maki, come in.”

Maki shook her head.

“What’s wrong?”

“Christmas.”

Not the answer Nozomi expected, but then she remembered Maki being decoration averse. Nozomi wondered what the story was, but Maki did not seem like the answering questions type.

“Do you do takeout?” Maki asked warily.

“No.”

“Could I pay you to do takeout?”

“How about if you come inside and stop shivering, I take the decorations down from one corner, and you let me treat you to a hot chocolate.”

“Cider. Lots of cinnamon. No Santas.”

Nozomi nodded, “Okay, I can do that.” She held the door open, “What did…”

Maki stopped moving forward.

Nozomi chuckled and shook her head, “Never mind. Let’s get you off the sidewalk before you scare away business.”

###

The apple cider came with company. Maki knew she hadn’t agreed to that but Nozomi had slid confidently into the wall bench, Maki having taken the seat facing away from the still decorated rest of the coffeeshop.

“So, how do you like Tudor?”

Maki shrugged and sipped, mostly hiding behind her mug.

“Are you having fun at the Conservatory?”

Maki raised an eyebrow, ‘The quality of the ensembles and musicians I’ve worked with have met my needs.”

Nozomi leaned closer, “I hear you spent most of September getting to know that Steinway.”

Maki scoffed, “It’s not a Steinway. It’s a Shigeru Kawai.”

“What’s the difference?”

Maki rolled her eyes, “Are you at all musical?”

“I sing in the shower? Do you duet?”

And then a chair landed next to Maki and Nico’s voice was harsh in her ear, “Stop harassing the pretty ones, Nozomi.”

“But Nico-chi, they’re all pretty.”

“Does not change Nico’s point at all.” Nico unwrapped a scarf probably longer than she was tall and snapped her fingers at Nozomi, “Get your favorite customer a mocha.”

Nozomi sat for a moment, watching Nico and Maki, then smiled slowly, “You owe me, Nico-chi.”

“Put it on my tab.”

Nozomi stooped to whisper in Nico’s ear as she left, “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Nico waved Nozomi off as she slid into the seat the taller woman had vacated, “Hi, you.”

Maki still held her cider mug close to her chest, as if Nico might grab it, “Hello.”

Nico grinned, “How did your meeting go?”

“I left the score for Umi. She had other responsibilities.”

“Im sure it will be fine. From what Nico could tell, it was…” Nico hesitated, at a loss for words, running through her memory for anything she could remember from the music sheets that had been scattered in front of her earlier, “complicated.”

Maki giggled, surprising herself.

“So what’s your drink, now that you know Nico’s?”

Maki put the mug down, relaxing enough to not need extra protection. “Usually coffee, this is cider. Seemed warmer.”

“Nico is always cold,” Nico hugged herself.

Maki had no response so picked up her mug again.

Nico frowned. The other party usually wanted to know something about Nico, but this person...Nico needed an angle. And then Maki surprised her with a question.

“So what’s your favorite line in Christmas Carol?”

Nico brightened and her body language became more open. “You want more details about Nico’s project? It’s so exciting. Nico knew once Umi told you about it, you’d...

“No.” Maki regretted her urge to speak into the increasingly uncomfortable silence.

Nico’s eyes glittered like firelight, “No?”

Maki put the mug down again, focusing her attention on it as she spun it slowly in a circle. She could feel Nico watching her, but needed to avoid getting drawn into a staring match.

“I was just curious. Asking a question isn’t signing a contract.”

Nico was silent. Maki sneaked a peek. Nico had a thoughtful look and was briefly still, but then her hands flew up and the air filled up with words.

“Business! Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, benevolence, were all my business.”

“Did Scrooge say that?” Maki couldn’t remember details of her last A Christmas Carol viewing, probably the Muppet version.

Nico shook her head, “Haven’t you read A Christmas Carol? There’s so many versions out there, in every medium, but the Jacob Marley scene is pretty consistent.”

Marley...oh the Marley and Marley number, lots of chains. “Chains, right?”

“Fettered. All forged by heartless choices.”

Nozomi swept up with the mocha, a pile of chocolate dusted whipped cream nearly as tall as the cup topping the drink. “When’s the wedding?”

“Shut up, Nozomi.” Nico snapped.

“What?!?!?!” Maki spluttered.

Nozomi winked over her shoulder at Maki, “If she leaves you at the altar, call me.”

Nico had both hands in the praying position, “Please ignore Nozomi. She has been harassing Nico and anyone else who isn’t a sad, defenseless mess for years.” Nico shrugged, “It’s a warped way to flirt.”

“So you’re not a ‘sad, defenseless mess?’” Maki asked, slowly, uncertainly not sure where this conversation was going.

Nico stopped sipping, upper lip covered with a ridiculous whipped cream moustache. “Does Nico look like a ‘sad, defenseless mess?’”

Maki giggled, touching her own upper lip, “You look like half a hipster dudebro.”

Nico frowned, then quickly licked off the whipped cream, “Nah, Nico’s JLo in a suit when she wants to boi up.”

“Really.” Cider done, Maki leaned into the elbow she’d propped on the table, “So is that your go to opening night outfit?”

Nico leaned back, considering, a smile sharp on petal pink lips, “Work on my Christmas Carol and find out.”

Nico’s eyes actually seemed to twinkle, with mirth, which is the kind of thing that was entirely wrong with this season. Here Maki was, having a more interesting conversation than she expected, and the propaganda that had been etched in her brain over a theoretically loving childhood brought Christmas back into the conversation. With a huff, she pushed back from the table.

“What’s your favorite line?” Nico sipped, the question gently curious.

“Huh?”

“A Christmas Carol, the future Pulitzer winning musical by the team of Yazawa and Nishikino. What’s your favorite line in the original?”

“Bah humbug.”

Nico shook her head, tapping the table. “Predictable. Have a better answer next time.” Nico picked up her mug, stood, and bounced over to where a student wearing a pride flag pin was staring moodily out a window. As Maki watched, Nico raised her free hand in a gesture, said “Nico Nico Ni” loud enough to carry, surprisingly getting a shy smile out of the young person, then put her mug down and engaged in a conversation Maki wasn’t close enough to overhear, but the atmosphere around them was lightening. Must be a student of Nico’s having a tough time with the holidays. So many people did, Maki included. She shook her head to clear memories of the past two years, then put on her coat. Piano time.

###

Nico stood on stage, sweeping her hands through the air, muttering, “We put giant candy canes at the back, do a cutesy period Victorian backdrop, piles of toys, some...no no no…” Nico shook herself and vaulted off the front of the stage, rushing to the back of the house and visualizing the mood she wanted to set, “Lamplight! We set up street lamps along the aisle.” Nico laughed and swooped forward, dancing like a chimney sweep in the chorus of Mary Poppins. “Perfect. Cozy.”

“I can’t work with her.” Eli’s voice filled the theatre as she shoved the double doors open.

“Can’t work with who? Is a dancer giving you trouble?”

“The composer. Umi’s letting her lead the musical ensemble, but she refuses to discuss Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker.” Eli stamped a foot and threw her head back, “How can you not discuss Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker. It is THE Christmas classic.”

Nico jumped up to sit on the front of the stage, watching Eli stomp in front of her. “You’re talking about Maki, right.”

“Of course,” Eye roll, “Who else?”

“Did she say why?”

Eli frowned, “Something about Ellington.”

Ellington, Nico thought, must be Duke Ellington. Nico pulled out her phone, “Oh, Duke Ellington’s done his own version of The Nutcracker.”

“Jazz?”

“Probably.”

“And how is that a Christmas classic that will showcase my dance classes?”

“That would depend on the choreography, wouldn’t it?”

Eli leaned on the stage, arms taut, and turned her head to look at Nico, “I’m not familiar with it at all.”

Nico hit play, “It bops.”

Eli glared.

“Lots of energy.”

Eli continued to glare.

Nico shrugged, “Hey, crashing the canon is a thing people need to do now.”

“Crashing the canon?”

Nico hopped down, “Hearing new voices, diverse voices.”

There was a pause, then Eli snarled, “Like Dickens?”

Nico continued unphased, “Actually, yes, because it’s the voice of Nico Yazawa doing an original modern, musical riff on Charles Dickens.” She pulled out her phone and fired off a text.

N: Hey, Maki, meet me and Eli at the coffeeshop. Ellington vs. Tchaikovsky death match.

M: Use their full names.

M: And I’m busy.

N: Get unbusy. Nico’s going to help you with Eli. So that more people can hear Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn’s genius.

No reply. Nico grabbed Eli’s elbow, “We’re going to the coffeeshop. Maki’s going to meet us there.”

“Did she say that?”

Nico grinned. “Not yet.”

“Yazawa…”

Nico yanked, “You, me, coffeeshop, Team Christmas meeting.”

Eli hesitated, “I don’t drink coffee.”

“You don’t drink coffee?”

Eli shook her head, “Bad for the body.”

“We are going to the coffeeshop. Nico needs enough caffeine for three people to deal with this.”

“But…”

Nico’s phone pinged, Maki.

M: Ten minutes

N: (ʃƪ ˘ ³˘)

M: Two years.

N; See you soon.

M: ᕕ| ͡■ ﹏ ■͡ |و

N: Ooh, Maki sent Nico a sexy selfie.

No reply. Nico laughed, but refused to answer Eli’s questions.

###

The coffeeshop had been a mistake. Nozomi’s eyes had developed a laser-like glow the second Eli stepped in behind Nico.

“Nico-chi! You brought me a present!” Nozomi looked like she was about to vault the counter. Eli was staring around like she’d never been out in public before and Nico didn’t know what that was about but Nozomi was the bigger problem, so Nico reached out, grabbed Nozomi’s apron, and pulled her into hiss, “Stop perving.”

“No.”

Nico released Nozomi and deliberately used a liberal amount of hand sanitizer, “You disgust me. Eli doesn’t drink coffee so don’t bug her.”

“Who is she?”

“Choreographer.”

“A dancer.” There was something in Nozomi’s tone Nico never wanted to hear again.

“Hey, Eli, tell Nozomi what you want and let’s hit the corner booth.”

Eli very politely stood at the counter, reading the menu with an expression that could have meant she was examining a bomb that needed defusing.

Nozomi leaned over, “Welcome. First drink is always on the house. And I make a luscious hot chocolate.”

Eli started to smile, but then shook her head, “I can’t. I only allow myself a cheat day once a month.”

“I won’t tell.” Nozomi winked.

“Just a peppermint tea, please.”

Nozomi considered, finger tapping her chin, “I’ll consider it if…”

“Don’t you just take customer orders?”

Eli’s genuine confusion had Nico snorting as she eavesdropped. “Newb.”

Nozomi continued, “You come back for a hot chocolate on your cheat day.”

Eli tilted her head, lashed flitting slowly over bright blue eyes, and then she smiled at Nozomi, “Okay.”

“Good, that’s settled, let’s go, bring me a strawberry latte in a bucket.” Nico dragged Eli to the table.

“This is a friendly little place,” Eli decided.

Nico unpacked her bag, refusing comment.

###

Maki slid into the booth, wondering if Nico had chosen the one without decorations deliberately. The choreographer was there, with tea in front of her, staring around the shop. Nico was on her phone, typing rapidly. Maki wondered to who.

Nico glanced up, “Hi, Maki! Thanks for meeting us.”

“Us?”

“Nico, Eli, Maki...We three Queens of the Tudor Christmas Pageant.”

“I’m not having any title with Christmas in it.” Maki stated.

“There were Kings, not Queens. Or wise men.” Eli frowned, “Next to the ass. In the manger.”

Nico sighed, closed her eyes, choked a little on snark, and then smiled, “This is not a Nativity Pageant, Queens rule, you, Maki, can choose any title you want as long as you commit to composing music for Nico’s Christmas Carol.”

“What about my Nutcracker scenes? Clara? The Mouse King?”

“Nico loves a good sword fight as much as anyone, but I think Maki has a point about Duke Ellington.”

“What?” Maki spun in her seat.

“You want something different, to show people music that while great, they might not have been exposed to.”

Maki hesitated, “Yeah.”

“Nico approves.”

“But I can’t just deliver all new choreography.” Eli whined.

Nico leaned in, “Don’t you have advanced choreography students?”

“Yes.”

“Give them the dances you can’t manage. Make it their final. It’s a real world challenge. Dancers love crazy pressure.”

“But it’s not Christmas without...”

Nico was unmoveable. “Make some new Christmas memories, Eli.”

Eli was suspicious, “Do you two know each other or something?”

“No.” Maki practically shouted, while Nico looked at her despairingly.

“Nico met Maki the same day I met you, and yes, Nico is trying to charm Maki into scoring her bopping new musical version of A Christmas Carol, but she also has a point.”

Eli hmmpfed and changed her tactic, “I won’t have time, I don’t know how to work with jazz…”

Nico glared as Eli trailed off.

“I don’t bop.” Maki broke into the silence.

“Nico will teach you.”

Maki took a flash drive out of her pocket and slid it toward Eli, “These are my favorite pieces. I think a modern dance approach mixed with a foundation of ballet would work really well with them.” Maki hesitated, cleared her throat, and continued, staring out the window behind Eli, “I understand loving traditional Christmas things…” a pause, fingers tapping, “But some of us do need to make new memories.”

After a minute, Eli picked up the flash drive, “Okay, I’ll listen. No promises.”

Both women turned to Nico, expecting something said with a flourish, but Nico was silent, chin in hand, seemingly absorbed in Maki’s profile.

“Nico?” Maki waved a hand in front of Nico’s nose.

Nico jumped, “Good that’s settled.” Nico stared around her, “Where’s my latte? Darn Nozomi, Nico will be right back.” Nico headed to the counter, “Nozomi, how can you keep your number one customer waiting?”

Maki stared at Nico’s large and half full cup, then glanced over at Eli, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“Um.” Eli was watching Nozomi laugh at a Nico who seemed to be hopping up and down with rage, “I need to get back for an evening class.”

“Let me know what you think.”

Eli nodded, then followed Nico’s path to the counter. It was like a relay, Eli arrived, Nico grabbed what looked like a plate as well as a mug, and Nozomi ignored Nico as soon as Eli began speaking.

“Yeah, yeah, go to your class. Nico will be in touch.” Nico called over her shoulder, then slid in next to Maki, putting a plate with two scones between them. “Pumpkin cinnamon chip. They’re delicious. Have one.”

“Okay.” Maki took a bite. “”S good.”

Nico winked, “Always trust Nico.”

Maki shrugged and chewed.

“So why are you making new Christmas memories. What’s wrong with the old?”

“External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn’t know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often `came down’ handsomely, and Scrooge never did.”

“Scrooge? Is that why you don’t want to work on Nico’s Christmas Carol.”

“You demanded a better line for my favorite.” Maki explained, “So this is it.”

“That’s a chunk not a line. Dickens was hailing words.” Nico giggled; Maki remained unimpressed.

“The weather sets such a mood, grim, cold, clingy, mist and fog and all the things Scrooge won’t be able to escape.”

Nico considered, eating half her scone before replying, “True. But Nico took those parts out. Boring. No people in them.”

“No people in them?” Granted, Maki had only done a quick read of A Christmas Carol, not an indepth dive for a thesis she was prepared to defend in front of a panel, but…”Scrooge is in them. It all describes Scrooge. His mental weather.”

Nico sipped. She was proud of her adaptation. All the Victorian carols and games and silliness had been nicely modernized. There was no space for Victorian gloom. Christmas Present was a little judgey and Christmas Yet To Come a little unsympathetic, but the characters around Scrooge were so vibrant that eventually he came to see the life he was missing. “Actions are more interesting than “mental weather.”

“But you could set such a great, scary, best ghost story of all time mood.” Maki’s eyes gleamed.

“Nico went for friends, family, and community mending a heart broken by life.”

Maki was surprisingly insistent. “His heart wasn’t broken. He took it out himself and locked it up with his gold.”

Nico sipped again, trying to arrange her features in an expression that represented thoughtful consideration. “That interpretation can be found in the text.”

“That is the text.” Maki was almost shouting. Nico touched Maki’s forearm and the other woman pulled back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Sorry.” Nico cupped her new mug in both hands, ignoring her previous one.

Maki shrugged.

Nico inhaled, calming the atmosphere. “I spent years working on this. Did Umi give you my script?”

“I haven’t opened that email. I prefer reading on paper if it’s that long.”

Nico tapped her cup, a measure to keep her temper. “I will hand deliver a copy if the great composer will do me the courtesy of reading my carefully constructed ninety minutes of gripping, heart warming human drama before trashing its central theme.”

Maki blushed, a hand in her hair, half turned away from Nico.

“Nico’s favorite chunk, if you remember, starts with “Mankind was my business.” You know the part where Scrooge’s sole friend, Marley, shows him exactly why the successful life he’s been leading is a failure.”

“You could do so many things with percussion there. And maybe some violins, chilling…different strings for the phantoms outside.”

Nico frowned. This would be easier if Maki read the script. “No floating phantoms. Nico went with the Marley’s taking their shot to actually do one good thing angle. But you’ll see that when you read the script.” Nico paused, “The nuances will attract you.”

There was nothing nuanced about Nico, Maki thought, as the playwright waited for a response. Nico was the picture perfect professor of Drama and Performance, stylish, very noticeable clothes, hair in a bun, neat, well used bag hanging off her chair, every gesture broad and full of meaning, voice full and making complete use of the spectrum of emotion.

“Maki.” A demand for attention, like everything about Nico.

“I’ll read it.” A quick agreement.

WIth a nod, Nico flounced out, leaving Maki surprised by the abrupt departure. At least Nico wasn’t the first of a train of writer/directors planning to haunt Maki into collaboration. Maki played with the crumbs of her scone, sorry Nico hadn’t had a copy of the script in her bag. Now she was curious. Maki stopped, leaned her head back, and sighed, apparently, she was going to do this. Well, it would be a new Christmas memory. Next time, she’d have to be more careful what she asked the universe for.

A/N: A/N: And the annual tradition returns.Last year's got sideswiped by the pandemic, although I would like to finish it, so this year, I went back to paced like a movie basics.

I hope this finds you well. Thanks for reading.

[shippostshitpost]

Dyed hair (my beauty guru Au)

Izumi was passionate about far too many things, though there were somethings that just got her beyond excited. Anything All Might related was sure to send her into a fit of mutters. Anything makeup related was sure to get her to be louder than necessary, like, Kirishima yelling about being manly loud. And of course her favorite time of year, summer.

Izumi hummed as she set everything up. What’s everything you ask? The greenette was going blonde, she did this almost every summer and by the time school came around she’d cut off her blonde and hVe a cute pixie cut of green. Kaachan always seemed to let up on the teasing when her hair was blonde, though she wasn’t sure why she was greatful. And what would a beauty guru do as she dyes her hair? Live stream it of course. This was the first live stream she was letting her friends see, she had to admit she was always a little shy about people she knew watching. For the longest time even her mother wasn’t allowed to watch.

She was beyond popular in the hero forms so she had amassed nearly two hundred viewers and now some close friends, she couldn’t help but laugh since their usernames were too obvious.

Iida_Tenya: MIDORIYA CHAN! DYING YOUR HAIR IS A SERIOUS COMMITMENT! ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS?

“Oh hey Iida, welcome to the stream! Everyone this is my dear friend Iida! We go to UA together! And Iida I know hair dye is serious but I do this every few years so don’t worry yeah?” She began putting up her hair so that she could get the bottom layer first. A lose bun and some pins made it so only the lower levle was visible.

❄️ 🔥: Midoriya, I happen to find your current hair color quite beautiful. Why change it? But may I ask what color you are changing it too?

Izumi giggled a little beginning to mix her dye, she had to stop herself from blushing. Shouto Todoroki was always so formal, cool, calm, and collected. She envied him. Before she could respond kirishima butt in.

Manly_man007: WHO CARES WHAT COLOR IM SURE MIDORIYA WILL BE JUST AS BEAUTIFUL AS SHE ALWAYS IS EVEN IF SHE CHANGED HER HAIR TO SPOTS! I SUPPORT YOU MIDO-CHAN! IT IS SO COOL AND WOMANLY THAT YOU ARE EXPRESSING YOURSELF HOW YOU WANT.

“Oh gosh two more very good friends from UA. Todoroki and Kirishima, thank you both. And the color will be revealed at the end! Now this stream is my summer kick off! This summer we are turning up the heat and really hitting the ground on hero analysis. First up, I won’t be analyzing anything All Might related, so no more All Might looks, at least not this summer.” She watched the chat fly by with random strangers asking her questions and commenting on her new scar. Waiting until she saw a familiar user name.

King_Murder💚: Tch shitty nerd, you’re not talking about All might? Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck is Deku.” The green heart next to his name meant he was a mod for the chat, she had tasked him with kicking out anyone who was...over the top. Or just you know, a pervert.

Manly_Man007: AW COME ON BAKUGO THAT WAS RUDE! MIDORIYA IS PROBABLY TRYING TO ANALYZE NEW HEROES AND HEROES THAT MIGHT NOT GET ATTENTION FROM THE MEDIA!

Floatingoncloud9: Midoriya-chan!!! Also Kirishima why are you typing in all caps?

❄️ 🔥: probably to be “manly” and make sure he had Midoriya’s attention

Manly_Man007: BECAUSE ITS MANLY ALSO I WANT TO MAKE SURE MIDORIYA KNOWS IM HERE AND SUPPORTING HER!

⚡️ pika_boi ⚡️: woah Todoroki nailed it!

“Guys please let me focus for a second?” She laughed “this summer I’m doing looks and videos based on my dear friends at UA, the up-and-coming heroes of tomorrow!”

Manly_Man007: WOAH FOR REAL US?!?!? ME FIRST RIGHT!

King_Murder💚: hey you shitty extra I’m first! Obviously!

Iida_Tenya: Midoriya! I am quite flattered that you’d want to do a video and look based on my style! Though I admit I’m not sure what that all entails I’m proud to be the center of a project of yours! Or one of your projects. If there is anything you need do not hesitate to ask!

Floatingoncloud9: ☺️ ahhhhhhhhh?!?!?!?

⚡️pika_boi⚡️: this is a SHOCKING turn of events eh? eh?

Pinky: WOAH really? You’ll need a lot of pink for mine!

❄️ 🔥: Since you are doing a look based on me may I offer to buy your make up? Or any clothing you may need? Do you do clothing as well? I am new to your stream

Midoriyafan001: Ugh N00b she does make up, fashion, and breaks down hero stuff I can’t believe she calls you her friend and you don’t even know how her streams work! Are you even a fan? How much have you donated to her Patreon account? I bet you’re not even responsible for one tube of lipstick she owns! Do you know her favorite fashion trends are American

“H-hey Midoryafan001, please cool it down a little y-yeah? I don’t let my close friends see my streams but Pika Boi knew new prior to this as a streamer and told everyone about it. So please don’t scold them yeah?”

Her hair was under a cap as she waited for the color to change. Dying her hair took no time at all, she’d done it a few times and it was more muscle memory than anything, well for her anyways.

King_Murder💚: better watch it or you’ll be fucking outta here you shitty extra. And no half n half she doesn’t need you to buy her fucking make up, see those yen amounts? Those are fucking donations. Her fans already got it covered.

❄️ 🔥: I see...

💚Hooray! ❄️ 🔥 has donated 25,000 yen!💚

“Todoroki! You don’t have to do that!” She blushed now completely embarrassed, slowly regretting letting him watch.

💚Hooray! Iida_Tenya has donated 25,000 yen💚

Iida_Tenya: nonsense Midoriya! We must support you! As much as we can!

Manly_Man007: AW MAN IM SO BROKE!

“I Uh I need to go wash my hair be right back!” She set it to a screen with a Chibi washing her hair as she rushed to the shower.

💚Hooray !Manly_Man007 has donated 200 yen💚

💚Hooray! ⚡️pika_boi⚡️ has donated 200 yen!💚

💚Hooray! Momo has donated 59,000 yen💚

❄️ 🔥:Momo when did you get here?

Momo: oh I’ve been here just wanted to observe but I want to help Midoriya buy some new make up and clothes! Oh we should go shopping together us girls!

“I’m back and- oh my gosh guys no! Kirishima! Kaminari! Momo! You didn’t have to donate! All though I really look forward to that girls day now!” The changes the screen back to the camera. Her once green hair was now platinum blonde.

Manly_Man007: OH MY GOSH I NEED TO DONATE MORE YOURE SO PRETTY MIDORIYA YOU KICK BUT AND SERVE LOOKS!

❄️ 🔥: It is lovely though you look like Bakugo now.

King_Murder💚: SAY THAT TO MY FACE TO FUCKING CANDY CANE! DEKU AND I LOOK NOTHING ALIKE!

“Take it to a private chat you two!”

Izumi scolded though she calmed when she saw they weren’t typing anymore.

Iida_Tenya: I admire your new look!

Momo: wow beautiful!

Pinky: I WOULD LITERALLY DIE FOR YOU MIDORIYA LITERALLY I WOULD FIGHT ALL FOR ONE FOR YOU!

“Ah Mina! That’s so sweet really oh my gosh I oh wow I’d fight all for one for you too!” She sputtered out in an anxious rush.

Floatingoncloud9: GIRLS SUPPORTING GIRLS

⚡️pika_boi⚡️: I want to support Midoriya!

Iida_Tenya: I do as well!

Manly_Man007: MIDORIYA LET ME HELP YOU TOO ITS THE MANLY THING TO DO!

💚Hooray! IAmMidoriyasFatherSheDoesntNeedBoysAlsoDinnerIsReadyMomSaysHurry has donated 2,000,000 yen💚

King_Murder💚: Hi Mr.Midoriya, kept her safe on here some of these guys have no respect for a young female entrepreneur.

Katsuki knew better, he had never met Mr. Midoriya. But when he had been picking on her as a kid he had cops come talk to him and a few pro heroes. He didn’t question it anymore. He didn’t want to anger Mr. Midoriya.

Pinky: Woah your dad has an interesting user name?

“Yeah dad doesn’t like to talk much so he lets his user name say what he wants to? I’ve been trying to work on it with him....”

❄️ 🔥: Midoriya are you safe? It’s quite odd that your father would stalk your stream like this. Couple that with Bakugo’s behavior... Message me privetly as soon as you can!

Manly_Man007: WOAH YOUVE NEVER TALKED ABOUT YOUR DAD!!?!?!?!????!! MR MIDORIYA I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS!! WAS MIDORIYA ALWAYS INTO FASHION?!?!?!? WAS SHE ALWAYS SO STRONG?!?!?!? WERE YOU A LATE BLOOMER TO YOUR QUIRK TOO? WAS SHE A CUTE BABY?!?!?

Iida_Tenya: You have my most sincere apologies Mr. Midoriya! I have always tried to be nothing short of respectful towards all of the women in my class including your daughter. Clearly there has been some kind of misunderstanding. I will do my best to make sure I don’t compromise her honor!

“Ah well that’s all the time we have today!” She laughed nervously “I’ll post a picture of my hair all dried and styled tonight on my Instagram! See ya!” She cut the camera and sighed

“Dad was that really necessary?” She pouted

“Izumi, my girl,” the skeleton like man smiled at her “as your father it will always be necessary to scare off any boys that even breathe in your direction now come on, your mother made beef stew.”