#all my hair clips n bobbles n stuff

[naenaex0xx]

apparently my sleep limit is 4 hours a day now . .

[gukyi]

stages | myg

⇒ summary: from neighbors, to locker buddies, to college classmates, you and min yoongi never seem to leave each other alone.

⇒ {neighbors!au, enemies to lovers!au (sort of??), bad boy!yoongi}

⇒ pairing: min yoongi x female reader ⇒ word count: 3k ⇒ genre: fluff ⇒ warnings: n/a ⇒ a/n: surprise!!! i needed a break from twp and this was the first thing that happened. it’s kinda short and kinda doesn’t have a plot, but whatever!!!

When you are five years old, it is the summer before kindergarten. Your mother has been dutifully preparing you for the beginning of your public education, teaching you how to read and write. You can almost read your favorite children’s book—Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?, clearly, the superior children’s book—entirely on your own.

You are five years old, and sitting at the edge of the sidewalk, the hot pavement burning the backs of your lower legs as they are crossed criss-cross-applesauce. In your hand is a thick black Sharpie, and in front of you, held down onto the pavement by your foot so it does not go flying off in the wind, in a piece of paper.

You are five years old and in front of you come zooming a small minivan in a sky blue color and a big, white truck behind it. On the truck are the words “Moving Company.” You don’t know what they mean, but they stop at the house right next to yours. You stop drawing for a second, peering over the bushes planted at the sides of the sidewalk to see what all of the commotion is about.

You are five years old when, amongst the sounds of car doors slamming and big men shouting, emerges a little boy from the backseat of the minivan, his hair as jet black as the shapeless blob you’ve convinced yourself is a dog on the paper in front of you. He’s tiny, his thick bangs cover his eyes, and he’s wearing all black despite your mother always telling you to wear light colors in the summer so you don’t attract heat.

You’ve never seen another child on this street. All of your neighbors, at least the ones that you’ve met, are either old people or people with dogs instead of kids. Not that you’re complaining, because Pickle the German Shepherd from the house two doors down is the sweetest dog you’ve ever met, even if he’s the same size as you.

Your mother did always tell you never to talk to strangers, especially strangers that not even your parents know, but the little boy isn’t a stranger. He’s the same age as you. By default, that makes him a friend. That’s just how it works.

You drop the Sharpie onto the paper resting on the sidewalk, not really caring if it blows away in the wind—it’s not like it was a very good drawing, anyway—and begin to make your way into the road. With each step, the hot pink sneakers on your feet light up and the pigtails in your hair bounce in the wind. You can feel the bobbles keeping your hair up hit each other with each playful skip.

The little boy has his back turned to you when you approach him. He’s reaching into the backseat of his car to grab something, but you can’t figure out what. As you get closer, you realize that you’re about the same height, though you’re willing to be that you’re actually taller than him.

“Hi!” You exclaim excitedly, chirpily. Your shrill voice clearly catches him by surprise, and he whips around with his brown eyes blown impossibly wide. In his hands, clutched tightly to his chest, is one of those play keyboards, the ones that make all of the drum sounds. “I’m Y/N.”

“Hello,” the boy says quickly, ducking his head and pushing past you.

You raise your eyebrow. That’s never happened to you. You always make friends. That’s how it works.

“What’s your name?” You persist, following him intently. You’re not leaving until the two of you have shared your life secrets with each other. He’s the only other kid on this block. You’re desperate.

“Yoongi,” he mutters quietly, and you almost don’t hear him if it weren’t for your apparently good ears.

“Nice to meet you, Yoongi,” you say, quickly running in front of him and holding out your hand. He’s still clutching the keyboard, even as he dodges all attempts by you to be friends and walks up to the house next to yours.

He doesn’t reach out to shake your hand, something that your father always told you was rude. What’s up with this kid? All he does is nod, trying to avoid you but clearly to no avail.

“How old are you?” You continue to interrogate him. “I’m five.”

“Me too,” he says rapidly, the words slurring together in an effort to make them even faster.

“We should be friends,” you suggest plainly.

Yoongi’s eyes widen again, and he looks you up and down four times (four!), from your head to your toes. You realize what you must look like to him, a crazed little girl covered in pink and purple items, a bright smile on her face, and a wild fire in her eyes. In response to your declaration, Yoongi brushes past you once more, heading right into the house. You’re left standing outside the front door, mouth still open and arm outstretched, wondering why on Earth this new kid, Yoongi, doesn’t want to be your friend.

When you tell your mother later, she tells you that he’s probably a new neighbor. You don’t know what that means until she explains that Yoongi and his family will live next door, and that brightens your spirits a little. Maybe today was just an off day, and tomorrow you can try again to become best friends. Your mother even suggests the two of you make a welcome cake for the family. Cake always works.

He’ll definitely want to be best friends after the cake.

(Spoiler alert: He doesn’t.)

You are sixteen, and out of every single time you’ve spoken to Min Yoongi, you don’t think he’s spoken back more than four words to you at any single instance. His responses are always short, clipped words, no more than one syllable, and they very clearly convey some sort of disdain for you that you can’t exactly pick up on. It’s been eleven years since he moved in, and Min Yoongi wants absolutely nothing to do with you.

You are sixteen, but that doesn’t mean you are foolish. You know that Min Yoongi has made it plenty obvious he’s not keen on being your friend. Which is perfectly fine, you’ve come to realize. Not all people have to be best friends with each other. But what you do not understand is why he is so intent on letting you know that he dislikes you, why he always rudely responds to you whenever you try to just be amicable and friendly. It costs zero dollars to be a nice guy, but not even Yoongi can manage that.

You are sixteen, and so is Min Yoongi. And he is still wearing all black—at least, he is whenever you catch the occasional glimpse of him in the school hallways or outside of his house—and has bangs that cover his eyes. Instead of them being black, however, he changes it up, and every time you see him he’s got a different color to them, pink, mint, blonde, blue. He has piercings that decorate his ears from top to bottom and one on his bottom lip, too, and you have never seen him without his thick black earplugs in.

You are sixteen, and high school is in full swing. You’re at the peak of your teens, and it doesn’t get much better than being sixteen and carefree and genuinely happy, right before the weight of college applications and actual college drag you down into the fiery pits of hell, where you most definitely belong. Still, you have yet to grow out of your phase of pink and purple, even though you’ve added a few more colors, like yellow and blue, to your arsenal of clothing.

When you are sixteen and you get to your locker for the first time for the school year, already ready to shed yourself of the weight that’s definitely going to give you back problems in the near future, there is already somebody standing there. It’s not difficult for you to figure out who.

Min Yoongi looks different up close, his back turned to you just like it was when he first moved in, reaching into his car to grab that fucking keyboard of his. He isn’t reaching into the locker that is most definitely yours, but he is blocking it. Him, and his all black getup, his combat boots, and the earrings that dangle from his lobes. They’re all blocking the way to your locker.

“Excuse me?” You ask, and you can see the way his shoulders slump when his ears recognize your voice. Alright, you get it. He doesn’t like you. “You’re blocking my locker, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi whips around, and you’ve never seen him so up close like this. His eyes are small, beaded, hazy. They hide secrets behind the chocolate in them, a fuzziness you can’t make out. His lips are bright pink, plush, especially so with the lip ring piercing his lower one. His skin is smooth and warm, despite his already pale complexion. His hair is fading more in the front than in the back, the blue turned into an icy gray. You can’t deny that he’s attractive, not even when he’s staring at you with nothing but displeasure lacing his features.

“Is this your locker?” He asks, deadpanning and unhappy.

“Yeah,” you say brightly, trying not to let his pessimistic mood get the better of you. You’ve always been chirpy and cheerful, and you refuse to let a certain Min Yoongi change that. “Is that one yours?” You ask, pointing to the locker directly to the right of your own.

Min Yoongi sighs, which you take as a yes.

“Great! Guess we’re locker neighbors this year, along with being regular neighbors!” You say as Yoongi moves out of the way, clearly regretting every single one of his life choices, probably beginning with his agreement to move next door to you. Quickly, you enter in the locker combination and begin to pull your stuff out of your backpack, already starting to decorate the inside with photos of you and your friends, your beloved dog, and various bright colors of stationary for emergencies.

One glance over at Yoongi’s locker reveals to you a wholly bland locker, filled only with his books and his black denim jacket. No pictures, no decorations, no spare supplies.

“Guess I’ll see you around, Min Yoongi! We’ll become super close this year, I’m sure of it!” You say happily, already well aware that Min Yoongi will try his damn hardest to avoid you at all costs.

Well, this year, you’ve decided that you’re not going to let him get away with that.

It’s the season of the annual winter formal, which is always less formal than prom but more formal than any other school dance you have during the year, if there is such a thing. It’s winter formal season and you are intent on interrogating Min Yoongi, to the ends of the Earth even if you must, to convince him to go. He doesn’t even have to go with you—you laugh at the thought of him thinking about it for even a second—but Min Yoongi never does anything for the school, never goes to the games, never raises his hand, never contributes to the fundraisers. All he ever does is listen to music and sulk in corners.

“Min Yoongi!” You say one day, slamming his locker shut and catching him entirely by surprise as you meet his eyes. He immediately loses all form of expression when he sees your face, his lips curled down slightly and a single eyebrow raised.

“What do you want, Y/N?” He asks. “I told you, I don’t want a partner for our music project.”

“I don’t need you for our music project,” you object. “I have my own partner, and we’ll be fine. Fuck you,” you tell him. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you if you were going to the Winter Wonderland dance.”

Yoongi scoffs, eyes looking away with his mouth open in shock, as if he’s saying, “Is she really asking me, Min Yoongi, if I’m going to some lame school dance?”

“Why, did nobody else want to take you? Am I a last resort?” Min Yoongi asks, pouting your way as he leans down condescendingly.

“I don’t need an escort, I’m not a princess,” you tell him. “I’m going with friends, thank you very much. I just wanted to see if you’d go. We’re trying to get our attendance up this year.”

Min Yoongi nods. “Right, I forgot you were one of those Student Council bastards.”

You try not to dwell on the insult to the one school organization you actually kind of care about, moving right past it. “That’s besides the point. You should come, Min Yoongi. It’s a lot of fun and the food isn’t actually half bad. Plus, someone almost always laces the punch.”

“Sweaty bodies grinding up against each other in a dark gymnasium to the tune of terrible pop music?” Yoongi asks. “Not really my thing. Sorry, Y/N. You’ll have to try persuading somebody else.”

“You’re always such a stick in the mud, you know that? You hate doing everything and you keep to yourself and you’ve never liked me even though I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong to you,” you say, trying not to let all of your pent up emotions on Min Yoongi spill out at once and failing miserably at it. “What the fuck is your problem? Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you,” Min Yoongi says quietly.

“What?” You ask, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“I said, you just bother me,” he says, changing his words. You’re still not one hundred percent positive he said he didn’t hate you, but it’s too late now. He won’t change his words again. “Sorry, Y/N. Not everybody loves you.”

With that, he’s walking away, putting his earbuds back in and letting the bass echo around him, loud enough for you to make out as he leaves you speechless yet again.

You are eighteen, and you’ve come to the conclusion that the universe maybe just has it out for you, or something.

You are eighteen, and you are so damn excited for university. So damn excited for a fresh start, for a clean slate, for you to be able to wipe away all of the terrible memories of high school and make room for better experiences, experiences worth remembering. You can’t stop shaking with anticipation as you move into your cramped little dorm, decorating it with fairy lights and an abundance of throw pillows and stationary that’s too aesthetically pleasing to use.

You are eighteen, and the only class that you’re actually looking forward to is your Intro to Music Production class, a giant seminar that will probably not be very engaging nor personal, but enlightening nonetheless. You swear you’ve picked a university that nobody else from your school is attending, a promise that there will be no loose ends you have to tie up now.

You are eighteen, and when you walk into your first Intro to Music Production class on a warm, sunny Wednesday, the first person you are greeted with is none other than Min Yoongi.

He’s up out of his seat, rearranging himself, when he makes eye contact with you. The both of you must look like deer caught in headlights, shocked at the sight of the other, standing in the same lecture hall at the same time in the same university. Only God would play such a mean practical joke on you, laughing from above you at the fact that you have to spend the next four years dealing with Min Yoongi despite the fact that you swore you’d never see him again after graduation.

What is surprising, however, is the fact that after you quickly turn your eyes away from him and rush to an empty seat, far from his, you feel a body sitting to your right, and when you turn to look, it’s him. He says absolutely nothing, his earphones still in like usual, playing a song you’ve never heard before. You open your mouth to speak, ask him why, ask him how, ask him if he’s gone insane, but nothing comes out.

Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe if you don’t say anything, don’t question his actions, then you really can start fresh. Maybe this is his way of wiping his own slate clean, the first show of something other than clear disdain for you. Maybe, if you do question it, something will change. And strangely enough, you don’t want anything to change.

Turns out, Intro to Music Production brings out a Min Yoongi that doesn’t decide not to pay attention and mope around, headphones in and music blaring. Intro to Music Production is a class that both you and Min Yoongi avidly care about, taking notes that aren’t nonsense and trying to engage yourself in the content being taught.

When the class is over, you have half a mind to dash out, not wanting to spend another second in such close proximity with Yoongi, the feeling so foreign it gives you chills. But, the other half is telling you to wait for him, to talk to him, to finally make an attempt to become something other than mild enemies. So, you resist the urge to run and loiter around, your stuff held tightly to your chest as you wait for him to gather his own belongings.

“What’s gotten into you?” You ask as you’re walking out, trying to avoid his piercing gaze. He’s stopped dyeing his hair so much, his roots heavily grown in, and he’s traded his lip ring for a simple stud, but other than that, he looks the same. A little older, a little softer, but the same.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi says gruffly. “I just liked seeing a familiar face.”

“But you hated me in high school,” you say, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“I didn’t hate you,” Yoongi says. “I just wasn’t used to you.”

“We’ve been neighbors for thirteen years,” you remind him, not buying his excuse.

“But you… you were always so loud and wild and vibrant,” Yoongi says. “I wasn’t used to it. You scared me.”

“Not my intention,” you tell him apologetically. “My bad.”

“Mine too, really. I did actually kind of like you, you know,” Yoongi says. “Your overbearing presence in my life was comforting.”

You place a hand on your chest, offended by the word ‘overbearing’, but you do appreciate the fact that Yoongi has changed, is changing, is learning to change. He’s always been something of a constant in your life, him and his stoic personality. You remember your friend telling you a word for people like him, tsundere. It’s such a perfect word for a guy like Min Yoongi.

“I guess your uptight, emo self was kind of a constant in mine as well,” you relent, giving into his words with ease. Strangely enough, everything just feels so natural when it comes to him.

“Hey, I was not emo,” Yoongi says. “I was expressing myself.”

You scoff. “Sure thing, Emo,” you tease, ruffling his hair and making his nose scrunch up. Yoongi laughs at the action, something you don’t think you’ve ever seen before, and it is warm and bright and makes your heart flutter ever so slightly. Damn.

“Hey, do you want to grab some coffee with me?” Yoongi suggests happily. “We can kick start college the right way—caffeine.”

You giggle. “Like a date, or something?”

Yoongi looks up to the side as if he’s pondering your question, figuring out an appropriate response. “Sure,” he says, nodding. “Like a date, or something.”

And maybe you and Min Yoongi haven’t always gotten off on the right foot, but you are eighteen and things are changing, and you hope that like always, Min Yoongi will be there through it all.

⇒ hmu with feedback or just talk to me here!

[drdanwrites]

Magical Office Episode 9: Last Christmas PART 1

PART 1 OF THE “Season” Finale.... oh...and btw... Sorry...NOT sorry! ;) 

(Milton enters the office, his briefcase floating behind him. There are papers overflowing from the case. Milton walks up to his office door and tries to open it. The knob is locked and he moans in annoyance while he takes out his wand. He mutters alohomora and opens the door. There are bags under Milton’s eyes as he walks into the room. The walls are filled with pictures of Grindelwald, news paper clippings and maps. All connected by red string. He finally makes it to his desk and his briefcase falls to the desktop. He sits in his chair for a moment before noticing a red and green wrapped box. There is a perfect silver bow on the top of it. Milton’s face seems to lift as he brings the box closer to him, knocking papers off the desk in the process. He lifts the tag hanging off the bow closer. The camera zooms in to show that the tag reads: DO NOT OPEN BEFORE CHRISTMAS.)

INTERVIEW WITH NEWT

Newt: Milton has been swamped lately with the Grindelwald cases that have been plaguing the ministry for a couple of days. It was his own fault really. When Parkinson told the aurors that they would have to be working overtime to try and capture Grindelwald, Milton begged the Minister to let him do the work at no extra pay.

(Side scene were Minister Parkinson is in a meeting with all the Auror’s and assistants. Inaudibly Minister Parkinson is telling the aurors about the overtime and Milton stands up explaining to the Minister that he would take on the burden. The Minister then shrugs at Milton in agreement. Milton suddenly starts crying, grateful for the opportunity. He then tries to hug the Minister, who quickly tries to pull him off.)

Newt: In the spirit of the Christmas season, I decided to leave a little package for Milton. Although Y/N has asked me to take it easy on Milton this holiday season, I’ve decided to do a little bit of naughty and a little bit of nice. Hopefully Milton is a good boy and follows the instructions, or he might not like his gift too much.

(Newt turns around in his chair and stares out the window of the conference room. The camera focuses on Milton’s office door. There is silence followed by a loud growl and a sudden scream as Milton suddenly bursts through his office door, wrestling with a murtlap that has obviously bit him once or twice. The murtlap is then tossed to the ground and quickly scurries off. Newt laughs to himself, mischievously. He turns back to the camera. His face changes from entertained to reassurance.)

Newt: Not to worry. He’ll be fine. It’s not like flames are flying out of his anus or anything.

(The camera goes back to focusing on Milton, who rubs his neck yelling for Newt. Suddenly he grabs his stomach and looks extremely uncomfortable. A large thick flame of fire, erupts out of Milton’s butt. Newt looks back in horrific shock. Biggles, who had just nearly missed being burned alive by Milton fart flamethrower, holds the murtlap in his arms. The murtlap purrs and snuggles tenderly into Biggles embrace.) 

Newt: Oh...oh… dear excuse me. (He quickly gets up from his seat and runs out to assist with Milton, who continues to fart more flames. Newt quickly retrieves the antidote from his pocket and administers it to Milton. After hearing the commotion you come out of your office with Bridget. You both jump back as flames pass in front of you.) 

Milton: SCAMANDER!!! (The after effects of the murtlap bite have calmed down and the flames have subsided. Milton lays on the floor trying to recoup from being a human torch. Newt looks to you, you display a very displeased face and Newt knows he is in trouble, but hopefully not for long. He looks down at Milton and shrugs.) 

Newt: Happy Christmas? Better luck next year…

INTERVIEW WITH BIGGLES

(Biggles sits in the conference room. He wears a ugly christmas sweater that reads “Kiss me I’m a Grandma”. He is also covered from head to toe in christmas ornaments. Different coloured bobbles are pinned all over him and he has christmas tree lights wrapped around his entire body. They glimmer and are almost blinding as he fidgets in his chair, acting like a child waiting to open presents on Christmas day.)

Biggles: IT’S CHRISTMAS!!!!! (He throws his arms into the air and splashes his fingers out, going into a jazz hands position.) I am a HUGE fan of muggle Christmas. As you can see I’m decorated in the traditional muggle christmas attire. Muggles decorate themselves with shiny ornaments and other trinkets. Of course I’ve saved the best of last. (He bends down and retrieves from the floor a headband that has a giant bobbling star. He puts in on his head.) TA-DA!

Director: (From behind the camera) Are you sure you’re not supposed to put that stuff on the tree?

(Biggles laughs and looks down at himself and moves around some of his decorations)

Biggles: Don’t be silly. My tree has a red and white suit on.

END OF BIGGLES INTERVIEW

(The next scene sees Newt and you in your office. You sit at your desk, writing up more reports that Newt needs done. He is mixing potions together on a desk in the back of his office. Periodically he scribbles down several things and go back to mixing and pouring. You cautiously look back at him and wonder what he is mixing up. You look at the camera, giving a weak smile.)

INTERVIEW WITH Y/N

Y/N: Ever since I had that conversation with Rodger back on Halloween, I’ve had this thought about Newt giving me a love potion stuck in my mind. I mean he is constantly mixing up stuff and I don’t know what is in my drinks. He gives me a tea every single day. How do I know there isn’t something in there? (You pause as you chew on your thumb nail nervously) Damn it Rodger for putting this thought in my brain, but isn’t it crazy how fast we seem to be moving? (You ask but not to anyone in particular. You look back at Newt’s office door.) I just love that man so much….I’m just worried it’s not real.

END OF INTERVIEW WITH Y/N

(Newt walks over to your desk as you look up at him. He places a cup of tea on the end of your desk. You feel a cool sweat immediately rush over you as you nervously look between him and the cup. Newt looks at you confused.)

Newt: It’s just tea. Thought you could use it as you’ve let the other 4 cups I’ve given you this week go cold.

Y/N: Yeah… thanks sweetie… I’m not… I’m just not into tea right now.

Newt: (Newt looks taken aback) Oh...since when?

Y/N: Just felt like shaking it up I guess.

(Newt laughs and kisses the top of your head. You smile brightly at the physical affirmation of love. He kneels down next you and you turn to face him. He smiles meaningfully as he takes your hand.)

Newt: You are truly going to love your Christmas present.

(You laugh and run a hand through his hair.)

Y/N: Is that so? Well how do you know that my present isn’t the best you’ll receive?

(Newt kisses your hand and holds your hand there for sometime. It melts your worries as the love potion notion leaves your mind.)

Newt: I don’t think you could give me anything better than your love.

(You lean down and give Newt a meaningful kiss, thanking him for his unconditional love. He reciprocates the kiss, placing his hands on either side of your face, running his thumbs slowly up and down your cheeks.)

Newt: (He comes out of the kiss.) I love you Y/N.  

(You smile still hazy from the kiss, not sure if you should answer.)

Y/N: I-I love you too, Newt.

INTERVIEW WITH Y/N

(You sit in the conference room chair, your eyes stare at the ground as you smile widely. After a time of daydreaming, you look back at the camera).

Y/N: I’m being crazy. That kiss… (You trace your lips lightly with your fingertips.) Well, that was definitely real.

END OF INTERVIEW WITH Y/N

(Newt walks back over to his desk. He pulls out a drawer and looks back and you. When he sees you have gone back to work, he takes out the black ring box he had been looking forward to giving to you. He looks up at the camera and grins.)

INTERVIEW WITH NEWT

Newt: Normally I wouldn’t share my intimate thoughts with any of you, but I just can’t seem to contain myself…. (He smiles wildly and looks excitedly around as he thinks of the best way to say what he is going to say. When words fail him, he bites the corner of his lip and looks back up into the camera). I’m going to propose to Y/N during the Ministry Christmas party. (He holds his palms up to stop anyone in the room from saying anything.) I know what you might think. It may seem too soon… but… but not for us. Everything is just perfect and this is going to make the perfect start to the new year. When she says yes… that...that right there will be the best Christmas present she could ever give me.

END OF INTERVIEW WITH NEWT

(Claire stands outside of Bridget’s office. She is holding two tea cups with saucers. A bottle of fire whiskey floats in front of her. It starts to pour it’s contents into the two cups. Once the liquid stops flowing, two spoons begin to stir their assigned cups. As the spoons continue to mix the liquids together, Claire opens the door to expose the camera to the depressed mess inside. Bridget sits at her desk, crumbled into a sobbing heap, used tissues almost bury her. The echoes of her hysterical cries fills the room. Her shrine to Minister Parkinson is torn to shreds and only pieces remain clinging to the walls. Claire places one of the fire whiskey teas on Bridget’s desk and looks up at the drink. Her face is red and swollen. Her eyes are pink and her eye makeup has run all over her face. Bridget grabs a tissue and blows her nose loudly and sniffs her airway clear. As she grabs the drink, a hiccup escapes her lips and she downs the drink in mere seconds.)

Claire: (Stands in the corner still stirring her tea) Don’t worry ma’dear. It’ll get easier. Minister is a tosser.

Bridget: (Begins to sob uncontrollably again.) NO HE’S NOT. HE’S BEE--BEE--BEAUTIFUL!!!! (She drunkenly bumps her head on the desk and begins her cries all over again.)

(Claire casually sips on her tea and looks into the camera.)

Claire: (Whispers to the camera) That’s her 9th glass. I’m gonna start charging her soon.

(A knock on the door makes both women look up to see a secretly timid Minister. He looks around the room, making himself feel even worse for what he’s about to say.)

Minister Parkinson: Umm… hello there…

INTERVIEW WITH MINISTER PARKINSON

Minister Parkinson: Christmas time is a big deal around the Ministry. Our Party Planners spend all year getting our Ministry Christmas Gala in order and making sure everything is perfect. Of course everything must be signed off by yours truly. Anyway, every Ministry worker is invited and therefore.. I must… (He blows out air, feeling uncomfortable with his situation) make sure certain individuals who have recently experienced heartache by my hand behave themselves… not causing a scene in front of… other such ministry workers… such as….such as my wife.

END OF INTERVIEW WITH MINISTER PARKINSON

(Bridget and Minister Parkinson stare at each other and then both look back at Claire, who is still looking down at her tea and not getting the hint that was placed before her. Suddenly feeling all eyes on her she looks up.)

Minister Parkinson: I do apologise if I’m interrupting something, but I was hoping to speak to Bridget alone.

(Claire still stares at the Minister blankly. Bridget drunkenly stands up, knocking used tissues everywhere.)

Bridget: GET OUT! (Claire quickly get the hint and quickly dashes from the room. Closing the door behind her. Bridget awkwardly tries to stand and leans sexily on her desk, but ends up slipping on a tissue and lands flat on her desktop.) What..wh.a...what can I do for you Mrs….Mister… married person Parkinson.

(Minister Parkinson slams a palm to his face as he walks over to Bridget.)

Minister Parkinson: Now Bridget... I understand you are hurt… and… I’m terribly sorry if you didn’t understand our… arrangement… however, tonight, I would like your word that you will… sorry Bridget what are you doing?

(Bridget is crawling on the table over to the Minister, who is standing in front of her desk. She quickly fumbles over the edge of the desk and falls to the floor. Minister Parkinson bends down to helps her off the ground. He holds her in his arms for a moment. Bridget sobers up a little and looks pitifully into his eyes.)

Bridget: I miss you. (She brings a hand up to his cheek. The Minister leans into the touch for a moment, but upon realising it he quickly moves his head away and captures her wrist and brings it down.)

Minister Parkinson: Bridge… please. We can’t. I can’t. I shouldn’t have even started… this. I just need you to forget about this and not make a scene. I’m married and..and...and...

(Bridget edges her face closer and closer to Parkinson’s lips. Suddenly the two of them begin feverishly kissing each other. They move over to the desk and with one sweep of his arm the Minister clears the desk the two continue to kiss as they clamber onto the desktop. The camera fades out.)

(Milton looks around. He still looks completely exhausted, but is dressed formally for the gala. He walks across the room to Rodger and Claire’s office. He knocks but there are no answer, he doesn’t look up from the papers in his hands as he opens the door and walks in. Claire is asleep in the corner snoring loudly. Milton rolls his eyes and walks over to Rodger’s desk. The top of it is covered in various papers and folders. Milton walks around and sits in Rodger’s chair looking through the various piles for the forms he needs from Rodger. He shifts through until he finds a bottle hidden among the mess. He lifts the bottle up in the air and peers closely at it. The camera zooms in on the label. The words RESTRICTED is written across it. Milton instantly realises what this means and turns to open the different drawers in the desk. He opens one and pulls out another bottle, RESTRICTED is also printed around it.)

Milton: Ahhhh…. Rodger… what a tangled web you weave…

(The knob turns and Milton quickly looks up to see the office door opening. In a flash, he places the two bottles in his pocket and collects his papers. Rodger enters with his formal wear hanging off his arm. As he takes sight of Milton, he jumps back.)

Rodger: Milton! (He takes a closer look at the scene and looks suspiciously at Milton.) Can I help you with something?

(Milton returns the suspicious stare, not sure he can trust his coworker.)

Milton: Why yes...yes you can, Rodger. I’m in need of the warrant paperwork for Grindelwald.

(Rodger walks over past Milton and begins to shift through the same piles as Milton. In a moment, he finds what he is looking for and with a flick, hands it off to Milton. The two stare at each other, with an unspoken questionable glare, their eyes narrow as the paper gets passed from one hand to another. Milton shuffles the loose paper with the others in his hand. They continue to stand in front of each other.)

Milton: They are still looking for Grindelwald, but they think they have an idea where he has gone. There is talk he could have gone to New York.

Rodger: Interesting.

Milton: Yes… but I think what’s more interesting is that we still have yet to catch the person who broke into the restricted potions lab.

(Milton looks for any sign of a guilty conscious in Rodger’s stare.)

Rodger: Well I’m sure they will catch the culprit soon, especially with you on the case.

(When no guilt flashes on his face, Milton nods carefully.)

Milton: Yes….well...I suppose I’ll see you down at the gala. (Rodger nods and Milton walks carefully backwards out of the room. He continues to lock eyes with Rodger. Eventually, Milton reaches the door and his hand begins to pat down the door, looking for the knob. Rodger gives him an odd look, questioning why he won’t just turn around. Milton’s hand lands on the knob and he gives it an awkward turn as he scoots around the doors edge and slowly disappears from sight. Claire still snoring loudly in the corner.)

(Newt paces in the break room in front of the women’s bathroom. He is already dressed in his formal clothes, his hands are buried deep in his pocket and his hand fidgets as it holds the ring box inside. It twists and turns, it feels heavy and he can’t wait to give it to you this evening. The men’s room bathroom opens and Rodger walks out, adjusting his cufflinks. His eyes peer over at Newt and gives him a smirk.)

Rodger: Looking good, Newty.

Newt: You too, Rodger. Listen,  (He manages to take his hands out of his pocket and holds it out to Rodger.) No hard feelings, I’m aware of your feelings for Y/N and I just hope we can move past this.

(Rodger continues to adjust is other cuff link as he looks down at Newt’s hand. A disgusted smirk erases his amused one and he faintly laughs at Newt’s peace treaty. Putting his wrist down finally satisfied with his appearance he pats his chest, to indicate something is in his chest pocket. He stumbles backwards a few steps.)

Rodger: Better luck next time, Salamander.

(Newt looks at him awkwardly as he continues to walk out the door of the break room. Newt turns around, now trying to figure out what Rodger could have meant and what was in his breast pocket. High heels bring him back and he turns to see you in your red dress.)

Y/N: How do I look? (You give him a quick turn, your heels clicking on the floor as they assist you in your twirl.)

(Newt stares at you. He is unable to move. His eyes just take you all in, every inch and every curve. You can’t help but laugh at how baffled he seems to be.)

Y/N: Newt? Are you in there? (You wave your hand to interrupt his trance.)

(Newt blinks twice and runs up to your immediately, he takes you in his arms and with one arm bracing your back, he takes his other hand and places it on your cheek, positioning you perfectly for a passionately intense kiss. In this kiss he hopes to make you feel everything you’ve made him feel in the past couple months. Sadness, happiness, annoyance, absolute peace and lust. You come out of the kiss and look into each other’s eyes.)

Newt: I want to exchange gifts now.

Y/N: Now? (You giggle.) But what about the gala? It’ll be starting now.

Newt: I don’t care. It can wait.

Y/N: Mine is in the office, come on.

(Your office is dimly lit with a mere desk lamp as your only source of light. Opening your desk drawer, you retrieve the your gift, wrapped in a bow. Newt walks up to your desk, a hand still in his pocket. You hand the package over to Newt. He carefully removes his hand from his pocket and takes the parcel. The wrapping comes off quickly and opens the box. A black circular disk, almost resembling a hockey puck emerges. Newt looks at your questioningly. You take out your wand.)

Y/N: Memoria (You say the incantation and a hologram like image appears over the black circle. There flashes scenes of Newt and you laughing together, kissing each other and goofing off. The last image to flicker is one of you saying ‘I love you’ and flashing a quick kiss. When it finishes playing, Newt’s face alights with appreciation.)

Newt: It’s absolutely perfect.

(You jump up on your desk and swing your legs as you lean forward, bracing yourself on your arms. Newt takes the black circle and puts it in his coat pocket.)

Y/N: Merry Christmas

Newt: Thank you, love.

(You both give each other a quick peck.)

Y/N: Okay. I'm ready. (You shuffle back and forth preparing yourself for Newt's gift. He smiles and blows out all the air from his lungs.)

Newt: Okay, well you know I am usually not one for words. Quite frankly long speeches never seem to come from the heart, so I’ll get to the point. I love you. There isn’t anything else I can say. All my life I never needed anyone, but now, if I didn’t have you in my life… I’m not quite sure how I could go on. I’d do anything to keep you as happy as you are tonight. (Newt slowly takes the source of his distraction out of his pocket and purposefully gets down on one knee.) I promise to live my life with you as the priority….my job and creatures a very close second. (He opens the black ring box to reveal a ring in the shape of a long slender dragon. The dragon’s head and tail are wrapped around a subtle diamond. You gasp audibly, your hands clasped around your mouth to hold back any other sounds.) 

Will you marry me, Y/N?

FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS IN MAGICAL OFFICE EPISODE 10: LAST CHRISTMAS PART 2 

[darkspace7]

Mutualism

"Two lonely souls in an empty room strike up a conversation to reminisce about the days gone by and eventually come to an understanding." [Part 2 of "Elpis"]

Words: 5,700+

Rating: T

A/N: This piece is a continuance set in the same verse as my prior fic "What Lay Within" of which is set in an alternate bad-end future ten years post canon and explores the dynamic between Shinichi Kudo and his teenaged apprentice Mitsuhiko Tsuburaya as the two attempt to navigate their lives after the fall of the Black Organization.

Contains some mentions of past/implied character death, (established) Hakuba/Aoko and Ayumi/Genta going on in the background, and our boys just generally having a bad time.

I dedicate this fic to my old laptop computer who managed to carry both me and my writing along for the greater half of eight years before it finally beeped it's last boop. My old friend, what with your cracked screen, half-broken spacebar, and semi-functioning usb ports will never be forgotten.

Detective Conan/Magic Kaito (c) Gosho Aoyama

The chatter of the crowded reception hall faded to the background as the teen shifted his awareness inward. 'Alright, I recall them mentioning they would be around here somewhere...' He stared out at the sea of unfamiliar faces that swam in and out of his vision from his little bubble amongst the crowd. 'So where...'

"Mitsuhiko-kun!"

His head swiveled to face the direction from where the call emanated and not a moment later he caught sight of the beaming pair that had flagged him over. With a smile he wove his way through the throng of well-dressed bodies to reach the massive spanse of window. "Forgive me if I made you two wait for too long but I kind of ran into a bit of trouble attempting to locate you through well-" He gestured out to the sprawl before them, "-all this. But I must say, the view from this spot is rather exquisite." The teen gave an appreciative glance to the manicured garden that lay just beyond the panes of glass.

"Oh don't trouble yourself too much about it. The fact that you were even able to come at all is what really matters. Isn't that right Genta?" A somewhat pointed look was leveled at the larger teen who nodded in response.

"Yeah. Took your sweet damn time too. Thought you'd never get your ass over here." The snorted comment made around a forkful of cake earned a sharp retort from his partner.

"And whose fault would that be? If a certain somebody had stayed over where he had promised to wait instead of getting distracted by some slices of raspberry-lemon cake then maybe he wouldn't have had to come looking for us."

Another bite disappeared into his maw as he shrugged, "They were gonna run out if I didn't 'Yumi. Totally worth it if you ask me." He gestured to the stocky teen with his utensil. "'Sides not like he cares, right?"

Ayumi's response to this was nothing more than an utterly flat look aimed at the teen. "Genta-"

Having sensed the ominous turn in the conversation, the freckled teen cut off the soon to be diatribe with a shake of the head. "No, no! Don't worry, like Kojima-kun said, it isn't that big of a deal. Really." Mitsuhiko tacked on at the sight of her dubious stare. "Anyway..." Quickly, he sought to drag the conversation's flow into somewhat different waters with the hope that it would distract his friend from her ire with the crass teen.

"I've been meaning to ask, are you entirely certain it is alright for me to be here with you guys?" A touch of hesitance flavoured his tone as he cast a slightly nervous glance around the room. "I mean it isn't as if I received an official invitation after all."

"Dude, chill. Back when we were still bringing stuff in I went and asked Aoko-san if my girlfriend could tag along and she seemed cool with it then so she probably wouldn't mind if another gatecrasher got tossed in the mix." The rotund teenager shrugged, "And if anyone does say anything –not that they're gonna– we could always just vouch for you." He made to spear another bit of confectionery with his fork only to have it return sans cake. At the noticeable lack of dessert on his plate he pulled a face and went on, "Besides don't you know the groom or whatever?"

"Huh? What? O-Of course!" He shook his head slightly, flustered. "Ah well...sort of? Not exactly, I know of him but I don't know him. N-Not to say I don't want to know him someday because I do. Very much." The teen froze a beat before heavily palming his heated face with a grimace, "Wait, no, that sounds…urgh." He held up a hand, "Just…give me a second."

One slow breath in –hold it– then release. Alright then, let's try this again. "Most of the information I've gathered concerning Hakuba-san is from prior case files as well as a few accounts of those who actually have had a chance to work with him. But I, myself, have never had any interactions with the man, yet. Does…Does that make any sense? So not necessarily a no but more of a… kind of?" He finished lamely, dark eyes drifting to the carpet as a dusting of red tinted his cheeks. How embarrassing.

(Though perhaps it was a good thing that, having long been party to his somewhat spastic displays, neither teen so much as batted an eyelash at this behaviour and simply moved on with a nonchalant half-shrug and a muttered "close enough".)

"Say Genta..." The girl turned to her partner, presumably to ask him a question or something of that nature before suddenly; she stopped and narrowed her eyes, head tilting to the side ever just so.

"…What?" He shied away a bit, somewhat startled (and mildly unnerved) by the set of blues now focused so intently upon him.

"Ah…You have a little bit of something…Hold on, let me get it for you." She began to rifle through her bag in complete disregard to the other's protests.

Previous embarrassment willfully forgotten in favour of this new bit of intrigue, the long familiar urge to just sit back and watch how things unfolded welled forth unbidden. And he allowed it; having settled back against the glass to tune in for the latest episode of his favourite show.

"Hey h-hold on just a minute! Ugh, here we go again." The teen groaned in mock exasperation, "Just because there's an itty-bitty mess every now and again doesn't make it so you have to go all forensics on us 'Yumi. Seriously, there's really no need to go digging through that thing." He said as he eyed the handbag with the same level of wariness as one would give a particularly vicious wild animal that was keyed to go off if one even dared to breathe wrong in their general direction. Which, knowing some of Ayumi's more experimental trinkets... wasn't an incorrect assumption.

"Oh, you sure about that?" She drawled, having finally located and tugged free her handkerchief (an older pastel number that seemed to have been worn soft from use) from where it had lay and went to work. "I mean, what with how you're always such a huge mess around those sweet treats." A teasing lilt played at painted lips as she tapped the solitary remnant of his sugary dessert. "Dear."

"Come on." He sputtered. A vibrant streak of red lit up tanned features as he seemed steadfastly determined to look anywhere but young woman before him. "That's just unfair." Genta grumbled with a slight whine.

"All's fair in love and war Genta, all's fair." She hummed a bit. And then frowned, "Oh for the love of...would you just hold still?" Her cheeks puffed out a bit in a pout. Tenderly, she swiped the cloth against the spot in order to collect that errant crumb. "Honestly, putting up such a fuss over a tiny piece of frosting. And...There!" She smiled triumphantly. "All gone." With a giggle she leaned up and pressed a quick peck to the tanned cheek. "Now was that so bad?" She stepped back and watched as he sputtered then proceeded to flush an even deeper shade of red.

Mitsuhiko ducked his head and turned away, valiantly attempting to fend away the smile that had threatened to form. It was always nice to see his two closest friends happy together and genuinely just enjoying the company of one another. But even so, he could not help as the smallest twinge of something settled deep within his heart. That feeling –despite its briefness– had successfully run its course, sapping away at the happiness until it was nothing but a ghost of its former self. Quickly, he fought to stave off any inkling of this from bleeding into his features lest anyone catch sight and ask him what was wrong. After all, no one wanted to be that guy at a wedding.

Exhaling slowly, he allowed himself to fall back into that familiar detached calm that had served him well in his tenure as detective. A practised eye trailed over the forms of his friends, absorbing the information present and storing it in the back of his mind for a later date. 'It's almost second nature by now,' he mused, 'to look upon something and be able to piece together a functioning narrative from every seemingly inconsequential bit and bobble scattered about.'

Even now he couldn't help but observe. Small things, such as how Ayumi's outfit appeared to be some sort of variant of a halter-neck tulle dress that meshed quite well with the black bejeweled clip pinning back her hair, or how the tiny price tag that clung stubbornly to that bag of untold horrors marked it as being from that small family-owned boutique that was less than fifteen minutes away from their current location, or even the fact that Genta had somehow managed to sneak in those fashionable sunset toned sneakers along with formal outfit that that his partner had no doubt coerced him into wearing; all of this and more was crystal clear to his inquisitive gaze.

...As was the fact that the young couple had apparently become so enamored with one another they seemed to have forgotten his presence entirely. Great. 'Nothing like seeing your two best friends making out with one another to further cement your status as the awkward third-wheel...And, yep. They're still going at it. Well, this is uncomfortable...' The youth let his attention drift out towards the reception hall in the hopes of finding something –anything– to distract himself. And not a second later it appeared as though he managed to find it in the familiar form of something –or rather– someone.

'Huh? Isn't that...Sensei?'

And indeed it was. The great detective had stationed himself between a set of secondary entryways and looked to be about as comfortable with everything in the crowded room as Mitsuhiko himself felt at the moment. He took note on how the other's gaze remained fixated upon something off in the distance, although as for what exactly was unclear. What was clear, however, was how the elder man seemed –for lack of a better word– distracted. No, not distracted. Troubled. But why?

Carefully, the teen traced the line of sight to its end which appeared to be a small table ensconced away in semi-private niche toward the front of the room that was now populated by both the new bride and groom. The man, who he knew to be Habuka-san smiled brightly at the woman in white (who could only be none other than Miss Aoko) as they carried on what appeared to be a rather engaging conversation. Every now and again a mustachioed man (presumably the father of the bride) would interject and earn a smile or a round of laughter from the table's other residents.

'Maybe something to do with them perhaps?' The brunette contemplated this as they carried on for a bit. Curiosity peaked when he saw the older man get up from the table after exchanging a few more words with the groom then a reassuring smile aimed at the pair as he took his leave, presumably to take care of something.

'Could something have happened?' He wondered, before quickly dismissing the notion. Neither party appeared to be overly concerned judging by the gentle looks of love the newlyweds sent one another and the genuine laughter of their peers so it was unlikely that there was something out of the ordinary there. 'So something else then?'

Confused, he turned back again just in time to catch sight of the bride as she put her hand to her mouth to muffle a snort, the gentle movement shifting the veil away from her luminous face and...oh.

Oh.

It was as though the air had been knocked from his lungs as a pool of something ice cold sat heavily in his stomach. Dark eyes quickly shifted back to their original target and he hissed through his teeth when flicker of something pained and familiar and unspeakably private flitted through those darkened blue eyes. And then just like that he was gone, having slipped back through the door without a trace.

And then suddenly, Mitsuhiko was moving.

He wove through scores of guests, transfixed on the spot where he had seen the other disappear. So focused to the point was he that it almost brought about a collision with another partygoer which only a quick-timed twist did he narrowly manage to avoid. "Sorry!" He tossed back as he caught a fleeting glimpse of dark hair and surprised garnet eyes. All of which were quickly dismissed and allowed to slip to the back of his mind.

(And while normally he would not be so rude as to do a thing like straight up crash into people and speed off without so much as a by-your-leave his civilities had, for the moment, been set aside in favour of more pressing matters. He would, however, in time find himself recalling this fateful moment and the cascading series of events that were to follow. But that was another story for different time and different place.)

Having reached the entry he stopped in his tracks. The lobby was, for the most part, empty. Understandable seeing as the majority of guests present were either inside enjoying the festivities or traipsing about the garden. This vacancy should have made it relatively easy to spot the wayward detective but as it stood he couldn't see hide nor hair of the man. The teen glanced about a moment before he lit upon a group of bridesmaids chatting off to the side. Perhaps they could provide some manner of clue to Sensei's whereabouts?

"Ah excuse me." The group's chatter petered out as they turned to regard his approach. "Sorry to interrupt but by chance have any of you happened to see a man come through here just now?" Exchanging a glance, they shook their heads.

"Sorry. We just came from the restroom where we were fixing our makeup. So even if there had been someone we couldn't tell." One of them spoke, a small frown on her face.

"Ah wait!" Another piped in. "But wasn't Momoi waiting for us out here though?" She and the others turned to the bespectacled woman expectantly. "Right?"

"Aah w-well..." She stuttered, feeling somewhat awkward about suddenly being thrust into the spotlight. "Um actually...I think there was a guy that came out through that door right there. Just a few minutes before you did."

"Did you see where he went?"

She thought for a second then nodded. "Mhm. I think I saw him headed towards the stairs."

"Thank you." Mitsuhiko tipped his head appreciatively before setting off once again. 'Wait for me Shinichi-san.'

                                                     (DCMK)

While the teen could not exactly be called unfit (thanks to many an hour spent idly pitching baseballs around after school) the run up had still managed to knock the wind from him so he leaned back against the doorway and took a moment to catch his breath. As it slowly steadied he allowed his gaze to wander.

Like its sibling below, the room with which he was now faced had been built to a mirrored scale with an identical colour scheme and general overall design, but it was there where their similarities came to an end. For while the former had been grandiose and richly festooned for momentous occasions –such as the one currently being held– this place carried itself with a somewhat more muted and almost lounge-like air. To the teenaged detective it was almost as if someone had pulled back the curtain on a set that had been half-built so there was nothing else, save for the empty stage in which they now stood.

Which made sense, he supposed, seeing as this room wasn't actually supposed to be in use right now. Although, if the shadowy figure parked firmly over by the bank of glass or even his own presence were any indication this little bit was to be ignored, if only or the moment.

'Though if this is to be the stage would that make us the actors, then?' He mused. 'Shame I haven't a clue as to my lines.'

"Took you long enough."

"You knew." It wasn't so much of a question but rather a flat statement. Wryly shaking his head, he pushed up and away from the doorframe and made his way over to the man's side. He smiled, "I should have figured. So what was it that tipped you off? The reflection in the window-" A tip of the head toward the glass and the faint twinkling of city lights beyond it. "Or was it the echoes in the stairwell?" He hadn't exactly been quiet.

"Neither." He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. "At the reception hall I felt you watching me from across the room. You weren't exactly being subtle." He gave him a dry look.

Ah, that was right he had almost forgotten. The man had always seemed to be able to sense whenever he was under the object of scrutiny without fail. And while it made sense, all things considered, for the other to posses such a trait, that did not make it any less eerie.

"Ah, sorry." He flushed slightly. "I just didn't expect to see you here. To be honest, if it weren't for those two I wouldn't even be here myself."

"I considered it, seeing as I wasn't able to make it on time for the wedding." At Mitsuhiko's inquiring glance he elaborated, "Case at the station platform. Guy was stabbed in the back and had it made to look like robbery gone wrong, killer turned out to be the guy's flatmate who was pissed at him for sleeping with his lover behind his back."

"Ah."

"Yeah." He sighed, "But even after all of that I thought I might as well go ahead to drop off their gift as opposed to spending any more hours on the train. Besides, I had already traveled all this way and I figured I owed that to them at least. Wasn't like this night was going to get any worse right?" A snort of derision escaped him and he let his gaze fall to the side. "Honestly, I might have been better off staying at home." And although the other couldn't see it, he could hear it the softening of his tone.

Mitsuhiko shuffled awkwardly on the balls of his feet, unsure as to what he could possibly contribute without the high probability it backfiring spectacularly. Thankfully he was spared of chance when the other startled him from his reverie with a bout of nasty coughs. "Hey, are you okay?"

"H-Hold..." Shinichi wheezed out between sputters. "G-Give... me a-" He held up a hand, grimaced, and tried again."...Yeah...I'm fine..." Once the fit had subsided for the most part he managed a wan smile. "I'm fine." He repeated, stronger this time. "...Hah...Sorry I've just been a bit under the weather, nothing serious mind you but just a bit of holdover from before. It's been making me kind of irritable lately. Don't worry about it."

The teen's expression showed exactly what he thought about that little statement. As a fellow detective -no- as his friend there was no way he was going to let him play this off. Any of it. "Are you really though?"

"Huh? Yeah like I said it's nothing, probably just another cold-"

"That's not what I was talking about." The other zeroed on him with that razor focus, a touch miffed at being cut off. The scene from earlier flickered in his mind's eye and yet again he found himself faced with those haunted blues. He shook his head to rid himself of the image. "Back there, in the reception hall..." Though he began slowly –hesitant– his voice gradually gained traction as he went, "You had this look about you. As if... As if you had seen a ghost or something right before you just straight up and bolted. That doesn't exactly scream 'everything's alright' now does it?" Dark brows knitted together in concern as he finally lifted his head to meet the other's stare head on. "Shinichi-san, can you tell me what's wrong?"

Shinichi regarded him for a number, that knife-like gaze which made a score of weaker men crumble bored into the very fabric of his being; sorting through his thoughts and actions until nothing but the truth remained. Yet where suspicion and mistrust were expected there was only the honest worry of a kid who wished to know if he was alright. "Unbelievable..." He muttered.

With a resigned air he scrubbed a hand over his weary features. The lines of tension in the teen's frame and quiet set of his jaw was not unfamiliar sight for the older man and he knew then and there that the other simply wasn't going to drop it until he had come to an answer. It was a trait that he found both honourable and vexing in equal measure and ultimately what caused him to sigh.

"It's just-" The words seemed hard-pressed to leave his lips, as if it physically pained him to do so and for a moment Mitsuhiko felt a twinge of regret. Perhaps it would've been better if he just had let sleeping detectives lie but before he could voice this the elder had managed to work through the knot and spoke, "Just...when I saw the two of them together –saw her– I just...I couldn't help it. I didn't think that..." He stopped, a noise of frustration left his lips as a hand raked through once tidy hair. "She looked just like she did back then. Before..."

Mitsuhiko winced. "...I'm sorry." And he truly meant it. "How long would it have been now?" He asked softly.

"Two years this May."

"It isn't easy is it?" Taking the silence as a note to continue he went on. "Dealing with the ache and sorrow and all those other things that you don't even have a name for yet can't help feeling; of every little thing reminding you about them to the point it becomes downright maddening..." Fists clenched at his side, little crescent moons dug into the soft flesh of his palms. "O-Or even just the knowledge that you will simply never be able to see them again." Dimmed eyes sat upon the horizon as the rueful ghost of a smile flit into place. "The whole lot of it just...sucks."

"B-But." He swallowed. (When had his throat become so dry?) "But then...you find that no matter how terrible it all gets and how unfair everything seems the world just... marches on." No, seriously, what the hell was he even saying at this point? He just kept going off the top of his head but for some inexplicable reason he just...couldn't seem to stop. So he didn't.

"All the days and months and years just keep on ticking by and then all that s-stuff starts to get covered up by other stuff and then you s-start to n-notice that-" And there came the crash. Dark eyes clamped shut as he stalled with an inaudible hiss.

('Easy now Mitsuhiko, easy. One slow breath in –hold it– then release...There isn't anyone else here right now. It's okay. You're okay. Breath, just breathe.')

So he did. One right after another, over and over again; just breathing. And the impossibly tight coil that had progressively wove itself around his airway seemed to constrict for moment before it suddenly reversed and the tension that had laced his frame had little by little begun to bleed away with every passing breath.

"Y-You notice..." He began again once he had sufficiently calmed, "That while that pain and sadness isn't exactly gone and probably never will be it..." The teen let out a shaky chuckle as he reopened his eyes, "It doesn't hurt as much as it did before. You know?"

A light of comprehension dawned in Shinichi's eyes and a look of pitied understanding ghosted briefly across his features. "Ah...that's right. Your mother, didn't she...?"

Mitsuhiko nodded with a vague noise of confirmation. It had been over a decade prior, yet he thought back to that time he could recall it with the utmost clarity. Back to that damned phone call and whirlwind flight that followed, to when his father had finalized the decision to pack up and head overseas with him and his sister in tow without so much as a by-your-leave, of finally learning why: that his mother had been caught in a accident when visiting extended family abroad and that the doctor's prognosis was grim. The months of waiting and waiting and hoping that she would get better and be able to come back home with them. How one day she just simply...wasn't there anymore. And how everything just sort of...went completely downhill after that.

He had been only a child at the time but that didn't mean that he didn't remember. And he said as much.

"...Back when we first moved those two would call me all hours of the day, you know?" He shifted, folding his arms across his chest. "And you want to hear something? They liked to talk about you guys all the time."

"That so?" The other perked up, seemingly intrigued by this admission.

"Mnh always used to sound so happy over the phone when they did too. Spouting things like 'Shinichi-niichan came over today while we were at the Professor's and how cool it was that he showed us how to solve this locked-room trick' and ' you know how Ran-neechan knows karate and stuff? Well I asked her to show me some of her moves and we wound up totally flipping this one creep...' That sort of thing." A fond smile graced his lips. "I must've cost my dad a fortune in international calls."

"Oh! Don't even get me started about when Kojima-kun started with his cooking lessons." He groaned in faux-anguish. "All he messaged me for months were pictures of the food and stuff that he tried to make." He shook his head.

"I remember that." The elder detective chuckled reminiscently. "He honestly was quite terrible. Eel should have never been prepared that way..." He intoned with a faint shudder. Although the teen really had came a long way since then the fact that whenever the boy went to cook something the only things that ever seemed to come out right were pastries and sweets continued to baffle him to this day.

"Yeah. But you know back then...being able to listen to their stories, to hear about how you, Ran-neesan, Haibara-san, and everybody else were doing...It was nice. It helped...quite a bit, actually." A short beat. "Even if you guys did get in way too much trouble. Really, the amount of cases the Shonen Tantei had back then simply by just hanging around you bordered on the realms of ludicrous-"

"Oi."

"-and while I'll admit that I don't put much stock in superstition I can sort of see where that whole 'shinigami' rumour circulating around Division One came from and honestly if it weren't for that 'curse' I don't suppose any of us would have learned proper crime scene etiquette." He continued to mutter. "Or how to handle a dead body for that matter."

The teen glanced up to find an indescribably flat look aimed his way. That lasted a few seconds before a more contemplative one slid into its place and once more he was faced with the detective's unnerving stare. "So you really were the one who went through my stuff." He stated apropos of nothing.

Mitsuhiko started. Because –seriously– what the hell? Apparently this reaction was confirmation enough because the other just shrugged with a disarming nonchalance that had alarm bells going off immediately in the teen's mind.

"I mean-" He casually went on, "-seeing as if an outside source had ever decided to attempt to enter my study without my knowledge I would know and that two out of the three people that currently do have access to my home would have the neither the inclination nor opportunity to do so and since the time frame seemed to sync up it only serves to further paint you as the culprit..." He shrugged once more with that faux indifference. "Plus you just pretty much gave yourself away."

And oh wow was he upset wasn't he? The taught lines of tension that faintly coursed through his frame, belying the calm air he put upon himself. The teen could almost feel the other's silent accusation at the perceived betrayal and damn if that didn't sting. Well it wasn't as if he hadn't seen this coming. After all, it had only been a matter of time before the hammer fell and he had brought it down upon himself with that thrice-damned curiosity of his so by rights he was going to have to own up to this mess. (And if he had to drop down to his hands and knees to grovel for the other's forgiveness then so be it.)

"I'm so sorry. I was just trying to pick things up a bit when you got sick that one time but one of the files got knocked to the floor. I really wasn't trying to snoop but..."

"But you're a detective and curiosity got the better of you." He suddenly sounded so tired it made Mitsuhiko want to cringe and shrivel up inside himself just a bit.

"I'm sorry." He repeated faintly, feeling absolutely awful about the whole deal. Short of massive head trauma, there was nothing he could do that would be able to take back what he had seen in there and the knowledge that came with it and they both knew it. And it was with this thought weighing heavily on their minds they fell into an uneasy silence.

"..."

"..."

"...So."

Mitsuhiko shifted slightly. "So?"

"You probably have...questions, right?"

"...I'd be lying if I said that I didn't." The admission seemed to make the man sink a bit but it wasn't unexpected. "But!" He ploughed on ahead, "You know? I'm not going to ask." This seemed to draw Shinichi up short as he shot him a sharp glance.

"...Why?"

'Why indeed.' No, he knew why. It was because...

"Because..." His arms dropped down to hang at his side. "Because even though you may be my mentor you are first and foremost my friend Shinichi-san." And between friends there must be at least some measure of trust or else the relationship will crumble. Even he knew that. "You have your own very good reasons for not wanting to talk about any of that. And I'm not going to force you to. But-" Dark eyes met startled blues. "-just so you know, if you ever do need to talk to someone, well...don't forget that there are others willing to shoulder those burdens along with you okay?" They held one another's gaze, each party searching for something unspoken in the other and after a moment it seemed that they found it.

"...Thanks, Mitsuhiko-kun." A tentative smile.

"Don't mention it. I won't." Lips quirked up in a shy but earnest grin. "I mean, what kind of detective would I be if I didn't know how to keep an open mind and at least a modicum of plausible deniability?"

"A pretty damn terrible one. That's for sure."

"...You know," Mitsuhiko started, drawing the man's attention back once again. "I heard they just opened up a new branch of that café we liked. This one's supposed to have extended hours and a bunch of new location-specific desserts on their secret menu. So...You don't think they'll mind a few particularly well-dressed patrons, do you? What do you say?"

Truce?

"I say we better hurry before those two lovebirds finally notice you're missing." He cracked a mischievous smirk back, "Besides, it's your turn to pay this time."

Truce.

[the-fiction-witch]

Earth and Water P2

REAL LIFE: X ELEMENTUS

COUPLE: TBS X READER

RATING: CUTE+ SLIGHT SNEAKING SMUT

THIRD PERSONS POV:

When y/n woke her ear's filled with a unfamiliar sound the sounds of bird songs and wind slowly passing though the tree's moving the leaf covered branches and the little sounds of people doing farming work she slowly opened her eyes meeting the glowing sunlight illuminating her room she moved sleepily in the bed before turning and noticing on the side table was a bunch of pink flowers in a little vase on the table as well as a bowl of some red little fruits and a little bit of paper beside them y/n sat up rubbing her eyes and slipping on her gloves as she discovered she had made the floor a little wet without noticing during the night she picked up the note which read "good morning y/n, I’ve had to head off to work for a while I'll see you later I'll meet you down by the gardens at noon, and as I assume you would never have had one, I left you some strawberries to try. see you later, Thomas X" she giggled a little thinking how sweet he was being to her she tried a little strawberry and instantly fell in love with them eating the whole bowl before she even left the bed once she had eaten the strawberries she headed down into the city having her hair again wrapped up in her arms very messily before noticing a sundial in the city square it was almost noon already so she hurried to the large fields where people stood gardening and farming the land she stood there for couldn't have been two minutes before Thomas appeared beside her his dirty blonde hair slightly askew his face and arms a little muddy as his light green shirt was rolled up to his elbows and his gloves now missing there figure parts and covered in mud so much it was almost impossible to see their original green color he stood one hand on the back of his neck looking rather nervous "Morning" he smiled "Morning" she giggled "thank you for the flowers this morning there beautiful" she smiled "Your welcome, I thought you would like them" he smiled blushing like crazy "what did you think of the strawberries?" he asked "I loved them" she smiled "Good, cause I got you some more" he said removing the arm from behind him showing her another full bowl of strawberries "aww... thank you so much Thomas" she giggled hugging his arm before taking the bowl and eating a few of them "so... why did ... you want... to meet me?" she asked having to stop the more she ate "whoa" he says taking the bowl away "slow down a little y/n, You don't want to get ill" he warned her "I uh wanted to show you something" he smiled taking her hand and leading her off into the forest away from the city y/n was intrigued as the closer she got she could hear the familiar sound of water after a few more steps the city long behind them it opened up to a clearing and a little waterfall "The river" y/n smiled this was where Mithrildia's river ended up in a little waterfall in Valentina the water fell from a reasonable height into a large pond deep and wide enough to swim "I figured you would miss the water a little" he smiled at her she giggled "Mind if I?" she began "oh no go for it" he shrugged she giggled slipping off her outer dress causing Thomas to quickly turn his back to her as she jumped into the water blissfully swimming wetting her hair and relaxing her feet from walking she was in heaven till she stood under the waterfall letting the water uncurl and unknot her hair just as Thomas turned to check on her "Thomas!" She yelled "sorry, I just wanted to check you where okay" he shrugged "I wasn’t looking honest!" he blushed making her giggle before she got out and slipping her overdress back on and taking his hand "oh your all wet" he laughed removing his hand from hers "that is a lot of hair" he said looking at her long hair that was still in the water a bit "Thank you, it’s getting in the way a little though, I can’t walk around and such it will take hours to dry" she sighed "oh I think I can help" her smiled leading her back to her room and sitting her on her bed then getting a little mirror and sitting it on her side table for her to look in and then sitting behind her with her hair going across the room "why is your hair so long?" he asked her begging to brush her hair for her "its tradition in mithrilida, women never cut their hair from the day we are born to the day we die, it grows with us and is a huge part of who you are, and when we die and our buried our hair acts as a blanket and a pillow to lay to rest on as we go to the mother" she explained "Wow, that’s a very beautiful tradition, I guess underwater long hair is a lot easier to deal with then up here on land" he laughed "Yeah, I Understand why most women up here cut it short" she sighed "I couldn’t live without my hair, it holds a million memories" she giggled as he got closer to her hair with the brush tickling her slightly "that’s cute" he smiled beginning to plait her hair putting it into a long braid down one side then moving it over the top of her head all the way around using the plaid as a bobble to hold the rest of her hair then begging to plaid down her hair in tiny little sections "What are you doing?" she asked him "plaiting it, it will make it easier to move around and stuff, you have so much thought it’s gonna be very intricate and beautiful don't worry" he told her giving her another strawberry to reassure her "How do you know how to do this?" she asked him "oh I do it for my second cousin Mari and penny's daughter, adopted daughter obviously, Rosie she's sweeter than a bowl of sugar, she often makes me plaid her hair" Thomas explained it took almost a whole hour but at last her hair finished just in the small of her back the plaits and braids all over her head she looked beautiful "okay take a look" he told her so she stood up looking into the full length mirror spinning around looking at her hair "Oh my goddess, it’s beautiful" she smiled "ah, ah I’m not done yet y/n" he smiled taking his gloves off finishing the final plait and a little flower began to grow around her hair the stem of the flower going though and around her hair glowing tiny little colorful flowers around her hair so the plant was interwoven in her hair one last flower blooming just at the bottom of her head "when you want to take it out to swim or to sleep just pull that flower at the top it will come out like a clip then just set it down when you want to put it back in just hold it the flower knows the Patten I put your hair and it will weave your hair back to this again" he explained "Thomas, it’s so beautiful" she smiled hugging him tightly "thank you" she smiled "your welcome" he smiled hugging her tightly back before her balcony doors flew open the sunset light bursting though they both quickly went to the balcony the sky was clouding over the wind stronger than any storm either had ever seen the air grew cold and rather fresh y/n and Thomas hurried down into the center of the city and stood in awe at it all as many others hid in their homes out of fear as a voice seemed to echo on the wind the voice was for sure female and it seemed aged and worn before everything stopped the air was still the sky was motionless the voice echoed one last time before even that disappeared not even a few seconds later a shadow appeared at the rim of the forest and edge of the city the figure was cloaked so their face was unclear but the shadow stood for a moment before slowly and purposely walking towards the Centre of the city Thomas and y/n both stood a little scared until the shadow was only a few feet from them "I assume this is the right place, Valentina isn’t it?" a aged female voice asked "Yes" Thomas answered trying to not make his fear to obvious "good, it took me hours to get here" the voice said as the woman pulled back clothes revealing her face and body she had tanned skin and aged red eyes her face seeming lost in her hair, she had medium length blonde hair that had a lot of volume and structure the curls seeming to defy gravity to stay hovering above her shoulders all except the two parts directly in front of her face they were straight and passed down well below her stomach she wore yellow knee high boots and white trousers as well as a white long sleeve shirt over those was a small light yells dress that hugged her thin body closely as well as brighter yellow chest amour and arm amour of the same color she wore a gold necklace tight around her neck she seemed from her height and aged appearance older then y/n and Thomas yet it was hard to tell  she looked at the two her gaze shifting between them for a moment "water girl? That is an unusual sight" she sighed "y/n y/l/n" y/n said introducing herself "Abbigale tapigolous, y/l/n a royal family I believe" Abbigale smiled "Yes, I am my cities princess, I’m sorry I know very little about your people" y/n answered "Well yes that’s the problem with being the scholar race you know everything about everyone else, and no one else knows anything, don't worry I am just a simple medic" Abbigale explained "and you are?" she asked turning her attention to Thomas "Oh uh Thomas brodie-sangster" he replied "Son of pentavine?" Abbigale asked "No actually he’s my grandfather" Thomas answered and Abbigale nodded "I assume we still wait for fire?" she asked "Yes we do, feel free to go inside I’m sure the guards will lead you to your room for now" y/n explained nudging Thomas "yes...just inform Mari as you pass the throne room and she will lead you" Thomas said his eyes flickering between y/n and Abbigale, Abbigale smiled going to walk into the tree Thomas continued to watch her go before turning back to y/n and taking y/n's hand "What was all that about?" she asked him "Nothing y/n, nothing" he answered leading her back to her room "I’ll see you tomorrow" he smiled "yeah I’ll see you tomorrow" she smiled before he left so she took the flower out her hair it going back two three small flowers and setting it down on her side table letting her hair fall perfectly back how it was perfectly brushed and sorted from where Thomas had done it she giggled lying in bed resting in slight fear that at some point soon fire would be in Valentina.