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amphxtrite · 4 years ago

Text

neville longbottom x fem!reader

warnings: drama, sad neville, swearing, unwanted touching, everyone’s around the same year in this fic, so the twins, cedric and everyone are all still at hogwarts.

summary: it was love at first sight for you and neville, and as the years go on, your feelings grow stronger. The jealousy of unrequited love pushes you apart, but nothing will stop you from holding on.

a/n: thank you to @cxcainedaisies for the request and script to write from!! Hope your like it, I tried to follow it to the best of my abilities!

flashback in italic

word count: 5.8k

hope you enjoy <3

__________________________________________

“Welcome first years, to your first herbology class!” A kind voice exclaims from the front of the room. Your eyes widen as you glance around the large greenhouse, you mouth wide in awe.

“My name is professor Sprout, I’ll be your teacher of all things to do with magical plants.”

Your attention is pulled away from the front of the class to see a boy bursting into the greenhouse, face as red as his tie and taking deep breaths.

“I-I’m sorry I’m late Professor, it won’t happen again.” The boy pants, scampering to the only spot open, next to you.

“It’s alright, it’s your first day I understand.” Sprout smiles, returning to beginning her lecture.

Your attention turns from the professor to a speck on the boy beside you, and turning your head, you realize a small leaf has made itself at home in his brown hair.

You giggle lightly before pulling the leaf off of his head, in turn having him turn around at the feeling of your fingers on his head.

“There was a leaf.” You smile, lifting it up in your palm and showing him.

When he doesn’t respond, you look up to see his face tinted a soft pink, much different from the red moments ago.

“Well aren’t you gonna take it, it’s special!” You state, picking up the boy’s hand from his side and pressing it into his hand.

“T-Thank you.” He stumbles, nodding to you as he grips the leaf gently in his palm, careful not to crumple the delicate greenery.

“I’m y/n by the way, it’s nice to meet you.”

Neville glanced nervously at your extended hand, but took it anyways into his own, shaking it gently. “I-I’m Neville, nice to meet you too.”

Crushes never came easy for the gryffindor, being rather timid and unable to talk to most people made it hard for him to find someone he could fancy, but here you come picking a leaf out of his hair and sending him into a panicked mess at the mere sight of you.

You smiled, his hand was warm like a perfect summer day.

“Well Neville, I think we’re going to be great friends!”

_____

You smile as the memory replays in your head for what seemed like the tenth time today as you walk alongside your father, and he’s quick to catch it.

“Someone’s in a pleasant mood today.” He chuckles, nudging you gently with his shoulder as you walk around the big school.

“How can I not? I’m finally in seventh year.” You sigh, glancing up at him and smiling.

“I suppose, but I think there’s something else little Lupin.” He suggests, cocking an eyebrow and looking at you knowingly.

“W-What makes you say that?” You try to lie, stumbling slightly as your father chuckles.

“It’s the same look I had when I thought about Sirius darling, just thought there might be someone on your mind.” Remus smiles with a soft sigh.

“Well… You’re not wrong.” You confess, wringing your fingers as your father pauses and faces you.

“Is it that best friend of yours? Cedric, I recall?” Remus questions, smile growing. You shake your head.

“Then Harry perhaps, he’s rather nice.” He tries again, resulting in a ‘nope’ with a popped ‘p.’

“Then… Frank and Alice’s boy? I see you and him walking in the halls sometimes.

Your silence was all he needed to hear as you opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water searching for something to say. The gryffindor had stolen your heart.

Remus chuckles.

“He’s a nice boy darling, you don’t have to say anything.” He reassures.

“How could you tell?” You question softly, rather curious.

Remus smiles and sighs, “you look at him the same way I looked at Sirius when we were your age, truth be told I always knew it was him you fancy, just threw in the other boys for fun.” You father jokes, chuckling softly.

You smile gratefully as a familiar boy in a yellow tie runs towards you.

“There you are y/n, could you help me out with some of the new students? Bunch of trouble we got this year.” Cedric sighs, panting lightly as you nod and he takes your hand.

“Sorry for the interruption Professor Lupin, see you in class!” Cedric calls, tugging on your arm for you to follow him.

Your father simply waves as he watches you bound down the hallways towards a group of small children, furrowing his eyebrows as he watches Cedric’s arm tug you closer to him and his face heat up as you laugh. “Oh dear.” He sighs, pursing his lips.

“Alright! Boys to the left, girls to the right. We’ll see you all at breakfast tomorrow.” You exclaim as the new hufflepuffs file themselves down their respective staircase and chatter amongst themselves. You notice one pause for a moment in front of a staircase and hesitantly look around.

“Go on, there’s nothing to worry about.” You murmur to them giving a light push as they set their foot on the staircase and smile joyfully as they begin sprinting up the steps.

“You were amazing, you know.” Cedric chuckles, collapsing into one of the yellow couches and sighing softly.

“Thanks Ced, you were right, we’ve got an energetic bunch this year.” You laugh, sitting beside him.

“Think you’re bein�� too nice on them y/n, I swear a kid almost bit me.”

The two of you erupt into laughter and begin talking about your summer. You’re about half-way through talking about your trip to France when Cedric’s gaze begins fluttering down to your lips and your sentence drops.

“I-Is there something on my face?” You ask, reaching your hand up to wipe your mouth.

“No, just thinking bout something.” Cedric chuckles scooting closer to you and smirking.

“O-Oh, really?” You ask, backing away a little as you swallow uncomfortably.

“Yeah, and I’ve given it a lot of thought.” He continues, leaning towards you.

“I really--”

“I’ve got to get to bed Cedric, it’s getting late and I have potions first thing in the morning I should go.” You rush, picking yourself off the couch and hurrying towards the girl’s common room.

“Oh, alright. I’ll see you tomorrow darling!” Cedric calls.

‘Darling’ you get a sick feeling to your stomach as you round the corner to your dorm room and drop onto your bed. Why did it have to be darling?

_____

“Neville! Are you even listening to me?” Ginny asks, waving her hand in front of the brunette as Luna giggles softly at the gryffindor’s glazed eyes.

Neville’s eyes snap down from a spot not too far away and focus again on the redhead in front of him.

“S-Sorry Ginny, I— got distracted…” Neville sighs, looking back down at his books in front of him, and finding his spot again.

“That’s the third time in the past hour Neville, what are you looking at?” Ginny sigh, craning her neck up and around in the direction her friend was looking.

“Wait! Gin don’t.” Neville groans as Ginny’s eyes find you sitting at a table by the window.

“Are you and y/n alright?” Ginny asks, gaze drifting from you to the textbook in front of you, to the hufflepuff beside you. “Oh…”

Neville sighs and hides his heads in his arms as Ginny glances back at him.

“It’s Diggory isn’t it?” Ginny sighs, rolling her eyes and looking back at Neville. “Maybe?”

“That boy never leaves her alone.” Luna sighs, turning the page in her book.

“She probably likes him anyways.” Neville shrugs, fiddling the page of his novel between his fingers.

“Please. If you ask me, she looks miserable.” Ginny jokes, nudging Neville in the side with her elbow.

Neville only rolls his eyes in return, letting out another soft sigh as he watches Cedric inch closer to you.

“Just wish I could talk to her.”

_____

Cedric’s fingers run through the strands of your thick hair and down your cheeks as your eyes train down at the textbook below you.

“Ced I-I’m really trying to focus right now, would you mind cutting it out?” You ask, pushing his fingers away gently.

“Come on love, I’m just playing with your hair.” Cedric smirks, leaning closer to you and raising his eyebrow.

Your lips purse uncomfortably and you shift in your spot. “Very funny Ced.”

“What am I distracting you?” Cedric teases.

You sigh to yourself as you push back the urge to tell Cedric to stop. You refocus on your homework and Cedric smirks, taking your silence as a good sign.

“You know, a lot of the first years look up to you.” Cedric smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

“Uh huh.” You nod, scanning your eyes down your textbook again.

“And. They see me as a role model too.” The brunette chuckles, shutting the textbook and pushing it away. You groan in annoyance.

“Where are you going with this Cedric?”

Cedric chuckles and glances from side to side, almost nervously.

“What would you say if I were to ask you to be my girlfriend?” He rushes out.

Your jaw clenches as your eyes scan Cedric’s face.

Bloody hell.

The pink hue dusting your best friend’s cheeks and the hopeful gaze he held had your heart dropping to your stomach and your heart racing.

“C-Cedric. You’ve been my best friend for years…” You laugh nervously, glancing around the library in an attempt to avoid Cedric’s gaze, only to lock eyes with a pair of sad bright eyes. Neville.

Your lips part into a soft ‘o’ as your eyes lock, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. For a moment you felt different. When you looked into Cedric’s eyes, a feeling more similar to dread, or maybe even fear swam through your gut. You were afraid to be confronted about his feelings for you. Scared to lose a friend or be too afraid to turn him down.

But the eyes you found across the library made you feel safe, warm. As though everything was going to be alright. Your eyes leave his and travel downwards, he’s clenching his fist, his lips are pulled into a frown and by the looks of it he isn’t listening to Ginny who is sitting next to him, lips moving but with no reaction from the gryffindor next to her.

Nervously, you send a smile in Neville’s direction and the stress in his eyebrows disappears. He shyly smiles back and offers you a small nod, you can feel your cheeks light up as Cedric moves his head so you are face to face with him again.

Your blush hasn’t faded, and there must have been a dopey grin on your face because when Cedric’s eyes met yours again, a grin flashed across his lips.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you have already stood and picked up your textbook.

“I told my dad I’d meet him today, I’ll see you later Cedric.” You nod abruptly, turning on your heel and speed walking in the other direction. Cedric’s eyebrows furrow and he mumbles a soft ‘yeah of course.’ as you leave. Your eyes don’t leave the floor as you push open the library doors and lead yourself to the defence against the dark arts classroom. Cedric’s words echo through your head. ‘Girlfriend.’ He couldn’t be serious about that, you had been best friends with him since your third year. You had never thought of him as anything more than a friend and until now you had thought he felt the same. Well, hoped was more of the right word. Cedric had always been very affectionate for just a friend, and it was really beginning to make sense why his hands would always linger on yours for just too long to be normal.

You stop at your father’s classroom, but he didn’t seem to be present at the time so instead you made a beeline for the hufflepuff common room, hopefully before Cedric got there as well.

_____

Cedric wasn’t stupid, he had a feeling the blushes he saw on your cheeks when the two of you were together weren’t for him, but for the longest time he had no clue who the person was that got you so flustered. Today, he followed your gaze, and he saw the way your eyes softened when you looked across the room. He saw your little smile he adored and this time he saw who it was for. Neville Longbottom was sitting across from you when your gaze drifted from his, the gryffindor had been staring at you and him, and Cedric knew it. But it wasn’t until you dropped your eyes from his gaze and met Longbottom’s instead that he realized what was going on. The awkward gryffindor boy had a crush on you, and you liked him back.

Jealousy and anger bubble in Cedric’s stomach as his eyes trained on the brunette himself.

You barely talked to Neville, not as much as you talked to him anyways. What on Earth did that prat have that he, your best friend didn’t. Cedric’s teeth grind together as his eyes bore holes into Neville’s head, until a voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Are you alright there mate?” A concerned voice or two, calls to the hufflepuff.

Cedric’s eyes snap up to see the Weasley twins standing over him with similar expressions on their faces.

“Yeah- I’m fine, what do you lads need?” Cedric sighs, turning to face them.

“Well we were wondering if you’d seen Y/n?” George asks.

“Yeah, we’ve been looking for her for a while and we figured you’d know.” Fred shrugs.

Cedric nods and begins to tell the twins where you’ve gone when a twisted thought pushes itself into his head. The twins were popular, and close to you, could probably get them to spread something without them even knowing it.

“I- um actually asked her out today, she’s getting ready to go out.” Cedric lies cooly, shrugging his shoulders and looking up at the twins.

A similar cross between confusion and curiosity flashed in the twin’s eyes, and they immediately looked to each other before, glancing back to Cedric.

“Oh, thanks Ced.” The twins nod, rushing off towards the library door to go looking for you as Cedric crosses his arms in front of his chest and smirks, standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder before walking off to find his friends, hoping to add more fuel to the fire.

_____

You were mere steps away from the hufflepuff common room, mind still lingering on today’s events when two voices called out for you followed by the sound of footsteps getting closer.

“Y/n! Wait a sec would ya?” The first voice, you guessed, was Fred chimes.

You barely have time to react as they skid to a ‘stop’ bumping into you abruptly and grabbing your shoulders.

“Why are you two in such a rush?”

“Is it true?” George asks, eyes wide and mouth agape. Your eyebrows furrow and Fred rolls his eyes. “What he means to say is, is it true Diggory asked you out, and you said yes?” Fred elaborates, equally intrigued.

“What?!” You cry.

“Cedric said you were getting ready for a date? Why didn’t you tell us you fancy hi-”

“Because I don’t you twat, w-when did he tell you this?” You stammer, trying to compose yourself as the twins looked to each other with guilty expressions and cringes on their faces.

“Y-You didn’t…” You pause, looking back and forth at the redhead twins.

“It’s just you and Cedric a-are really close yeah? We just thought, maybe-” Fred stutters, wringing his fingers together and looking down at his shoes.

“Please don’t tell me you told someone!” You groan, bringing your hand to your forehead.

“Cedric was already going to tell his pals, we just weren’t sure.” George sighs, hanging his head.

“W-We asked a couple of your friends if they knew anything about this. T-They didn’t know anything! In fact Ginny-”

Your blood runs cold. Ginny had been sitting with Neville in the library today, if Fred and George had gone to ask Ginny if she knew what was going on…

Your mind flies to when Cedric had his arm around your shoulder and his hand in your hair. If anyone had seen that they would believe this, you needed to find Cedric now.

“W-We’re sorry y/n! You know we love to joke with you sometimes, we didn’t know he was lying.” George sighs, pursing his lips.

“No, no. I get why you’d believe him. I-I’m gonna go find him.” You excuse yourself, running off in the direction of the library, hopefully Cedric hadn’t gone far from the library.

You run around the halls dodging students and teachers, when you reach the library, the doors are ajar but when you peak inside Cedric is nowhere to be found. Turning, you ready yourself to run in the direction of the clocktower courtyard when a wall seems to form out of nowhere.

You back up apologies spilling past your lips as you look up to see who you had bumped into.

They turn slowly and your eyes trail up a gryffindor’s robe, a small potted plant resides in his hands, slightly smudged with dirt that also resided on his cheek and on his forehead just below his brown hair.

“H-Hi Neville.” You squeak, lifting your hand in a nervous wave. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you.” You smile, scratching the back of your neck.

Neville’s eyes widen and he opens and closes his mouth awkwardly unsure of what to say, his eyes swivel from your face to the floor to the mimbulus mimbletonia in his hands and back at you again. “It’s okay.” He manages weakly, hoping you couldn’t hear his heart beating out of his chest.

You smile up at the boy and lift your arm up. Gathering your sleeve onto your finger, you use the fabric to wipe the dirt from Neville’s face, brushing it off your cloak before gazing back up again.

Neville felt as though he was in first year all over again, your gorgeous eyes staring back up at him after you had picked a leaf from his head and stolen his heart.

As if it could get any worse, Neville's breath seemed to stop and his brain turned to mush. He tries to say something, anything, but the only thing that escapes is a small smile.

You notice his pause right away and take a step back again.

“I’m sorry y-you just had some dirt on your face a-and, you have a wonderful mimbulus mimbletonia by the way.” You laugh softly, attempting to diffuse the situation.

“T-Thank you, amazing plants they are, would you like to hold it?” Neville suggests.

Would you like to hold it?! Neville curses himself inwardly as he awkwardly stands holding the boil covered plant out towards you.

As if the universe hated him even more, Neville’s finger slipped and landed on the defensive plant causing dark stinksap to spew all over his hands.

“Bloody hell.” The gryffindor mumbles.

Your eyes widen and you immediately take the plant into your arm and take Neville by the stinksap-covered hand.

Without missing a beat you lead Neville to the bench beside the library and sit him down.

“Scourgify!” You chime, watching in relief as the dark green substance was cleaned from your hands.

Neville purses his lips as he watches the sap disappear from his hands, he’d done it this time, embarrassed himself to no return. Silently, he waits for you to turn away disgusted, or chuck his plant back at him, but it never comes.

Looking back up, his breath hitches at the sight of you holding the potted plant out in front of you, examining the boils and spines of the mimbulus mimbletonia, and he could almost swear he could see admiration in your gaze.

“Amazing growth Neville, I can tell you take great care of it.” You smile, finally meeting Neville’s gaze again. Your cheeks heat up as you realize Neville already staring back up at you, his bright green eyes fixated with something that resembled a mix of shock and happiness.

“Neville?” You laugh, poking him gently in the shoulder.

“I-I received it as a gift, doing my best to keep it healthy.” Neville smiles proudly.

“I can tell. Professor Sprout must be proud.” You compliment, setting the plant back in Neville’s arms.

Neville blushes bashfully at your comment and he shrugs, gaze falling to the ground.

Just as the brunette opens his mouth to compliment your work in herbology, another voice interrupts him. Hermione comes running down the halls, panting lightly as she spots you, her eyes widening.

“Y/n! Y-Y/n.” She calls, finally stopping and placing her hands on your shoulders.

“P-Please say it isn’t true, everyone- everyone keeps saying.” Hermione pauses, catching her breath. “Breathe Mione, you look exhausted how long have you been running-”

Hermione doesn’t even let you finish as she lifts her finger to interrupt.

“A bunch of hufflepuff boys a-are saying you slept with Cedric. A-And he’s not denying it.” Hermione whispers in a hushed tone, careful so no one else will hear it.

Your heart drops and your take in a deep breath. “I-I’ve got to go Nev, I’ll talk to you later!” You call to the gryffindor still sitting on the bench looking at you curiously. He nods, confused and watches you disappear down the hall with Hermione pointing you towards something. Even once you’ve disappeared, he sits back and looks up at the ceiling. Replaying every moment of your interaction in his head, smiling gleefully to himself as he clutches his plant pot slightly closer to him, as though he could feel where your fingers once were. Standing, he slowly begins walking where you left to find you.

Hermione leads you down to the clocktower courtyard, exactly where you thought Cedric might be, you’re taken aback by the amount of people gathered around the courtyard. Many hufflepuffs and even students from the other houses whispered around as you spotted Cedric and his close mates in the centre. His friends were pushing Cedric around playfully, teasing him about something you couldn't quite hear.

Cedric was smirking, rolling his eyes slightly as the crowds exchanged some ‘oohs’ you push your way through the group of students, and furrow your eyebrows as someone congratulates you jokingly and a group of girls glare at you furiously. Hermione trails behind you, throwing death glares to whoever looked in your direction.

Cedric turns his head as a commotion breaks out and spots you, his mates turn in your direction too and they begin wolf whistling and nudging Cedric in the chest.

“Cedric what’s going on here?” You demand, ignoring the group of morons trying to push your buttons. “Nothing love, the guys were just messing around.” Cedric smiles, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“Stop that!” You groan, brushing him away.

“Stop what?”

“Calling me love! And darling! Ced, it’s weird.” You confess, rubbing your arm nervously and backing away.

“Why would it be weird y/n?” Cedric asks, taking a step towards you.

“B-Because I don’t-” Cedric cuts you off.

“Y/n, I know we haven’t really talked about this before…” Cedric starts, gesturing between you two and lifting his hand up. “But y/n, I want to be more than just friends, we’d be perfect together!” Cedric exclaims, pushing your thick hair behind your ear and toying with your earring.

A loud collection of gasps and ‘oohs’ fill the air again as you swallow thickly and glance around, avoiding Cedric’s gaze.

“Please y/n, I’ve loved you for so long, I can’t stand not being with you…” Cedric continues, causing guilt to flood your stomach and your gut to twist into knots.

You can hear Hermione just barely yelling at Cedric to stop and for you not to listen, but she is held back and drowned out by one of Cedric’s friends yelling, “come on y/n, say yes!”

A whole chorus of ‘say yes’ breaks out and your face floods red as Cedric starts to move closer to you.

You look at Cedric pleadingly, begging him to stop this. He knew you hated these kinds of situations, why on Earth would he put you through this?

He’s taking advantage of it. You remind yourself as Cedric’s breath drew closer to your face. You place your hands on Cedric’s chest and attempt to push him away , but his feet are planted and he has a tight grasp of your arm, refusing to let go until you gave him what he wanted.

Your head turns again in an attempt to stop Cedric from getting too close, and a short distance from the crowd you saw something that made your heart drop.

Neville stood by the entrance to the courtyard, still clutching his mimbulus mimbletonia in his hands with a heartbroken look on his face. His jaw was slack, eyes wide and on the verge of tears, your stomach clenches and you try again, trying to get away from the pressure to just give in. The chanting grows louder, some people even shouting ‘kiss him!’ and you watch devastated as Neville runs away, a glistening tear running down his cheek.

“Cedric I-I don’t like-” You try again.

“Come on y/n! You’ve already shagged him, just make it official already!” A voice calls teasingly.

Your head swivels in the direction of the voice and all at once, you snap. You couldn’t take the taunting, the pressure or Cedric’s behavior any longer. With all your might, you stomp on Cedric’s foot and in his moment of weakness you tear off his hands and explode.

“I did not shag him! I never have and I never will because I don’t like him!”

The crowd reels back at your sudden outburst and the chanting stops.

Cedric’s mates open their mouths to say something, but Hermione uses their shock as an advantage and clocks the one holding her back across the face.

“All of you leave now!” She seethes, pointing her wand at the by-standers threateningly.

You pant heavily as you watch the group finally begin to leave and you turn back to Cedric.

“What is wrong with you?” You hiss.

Cedric winces at your tone and stares down at the ground.

“You used my fear against me, you held me against you when I tried to escape, you told people we slept together, Cedric what the hell?” You cry incredulously.

Cedric doesn’t respond, choosing to avoid your gaze, and you entirely instead of saying anything, not even an apology comes out of his mouth.

Groaning in frustration, you stomp away, leaving Hermione to give Cedric and his friends a piece of her mind while you run through the halls with tears spilling down your face, you had to find him, Neville had seen what had happened and you knew he thought something else was happening. Swiveling our head in search, it hits you like a ton of brick, there was one place Neville went to when he was upset, and after years of finding him there on accident, it was your best bet. You pick up the pace and run towards the green houses.

“She likes him… How could I have been so stupid, of course she likes Diggory!” Neville curses, sitting himself in the corner of the very first greenhouse he had ever stepped into. The one where he’d first met you, the greenhouse where he fell for you.

He had finally made it to the clocktower courtyard, peaked inside and saw Cedric holding you in his arms, slowly inching forwards as a crowd around you laughed. He even heard someone chant that you and Cedric had slept together… How stupid could he be, you’d always choose Cedric over him.

For a while, Neville just sits and does his best to hold back his tears, replaying your moment together in the hall as if he could go back in time and relive it forever. The security of the greenhouse can only help so much and soon, he can feel tears spilling from the corner of his eyes.

Just as Neville is about to stand and head back to his dorm, the greenhouse door swings open abruptly and you enter, hair messy and tears adorning your face, but still looking as angelic as always. Neville stands suddenly, ignoring the rush of blood to his head and begins to walk away with his head down when he feels your hand on his shoulder.

“Nev, please. Hold on a minute.” You beg, biting back your tears as Neville’s dejected eyes look back at you.

“No it’s okay y/n, I understand, you like him…” Neville sighs, pushing his lips up in a pitiful excuse for a smile.

“Neville!”

“Y/n, I saw what happened, you don’t have to pretend!” Neville cuts you off again, raising his arm to brush your hand from his shoulder.

“No!” You shout, stepping closer to him and wrapping your arms around him.

“Please hold on Nev, h-he made all of it up! I-I’ve never shagged him, never kissed him, I’ve n-never even liked him.” You sniffle, hugging Neville closer to you as he stands frozen, processing your words.

“The truth is I’ve only fancied one boy from my first year at Hogwarts. I picked a leaf from his hair and ever since he’s the only one I’ve ever wanted to kiss.” You admit shakily, pulling back a bit to look into the green eyes you adore.

“Nev?” You murmur.

Neville doesn’t speak for a moment, blinking a couple times before raising his hand to your cheek and wiping away your tears.

Taking a deep breath, Neville smiles. A real smile this time that stretched to his eyes and showed his teeth.

“Funny, because a girl picked a leaf out of my hair back in my first year and I fell in love with her as well.” Neville confesses, wrapping an arm around your back and returning your embrace.

“She’s absolutely stunning, with beautiful hair, gorgeous eyes, even when she’s crying she’s angelic, though I do hate to see her sad.” Neville continues, wiping away another tear with his thumb.

“Really thought she liked someone else, someone better…” The gryffindor pauses, glancing away for a moment as his insecurities raised again.

“Nev.” You smile, using your finger to turn him back to face you. “There’s no one better for me than the person I fell in love with.”

Neville blushes again, this time with a soft grin spreading across his face as he feels himself lean closer. As Neville leaned closer, a different feeling swirled in your stomach. Butterflies.

You meet him halfway and smile into his lips as you relish in the warmth that coursed through your veins and the comfort Neville brought you.

You felt safe, finally at home.

The kiss is chaste and sweet, both of you choosing to just pause and breathe each other in. Neville pulls away for a moment and looks into your eyes, feeling the joy and security from your gaze, he relaxes and holds you tighter in his arms.

“Wow.” Neville sighs, shyly resting his forehead against yours. “Wow indeed.” You smile.

“So glad I held on.” Neville smirks happily, pressing another short kiss to your soft lips.

__________

Walking through the halls hand in hand with your boyfriend was something that would never get old.

Boyfriend, you grin to yourself. Neville had asked you out not long after your first kiss and you’d been inseparable ever since. You’d gone to Hogsmeade together, studied together, cuddled by black lake, he’d even snuck you into the gryffindor common room so he could show you his collection of plants and journals, he eventually ended up reading to you as you lay in his arms.

All your friends were supportive of your relationship with Neville, finding you to be the perfect couple. They were also very hostile towards Cedric, especially the twins after he had lied to them and Hermione after what he said about you.

Cedric had yet to make an attempt to patch up your friendship, but you were fine with it. You had your real friends to hang out with, and your boyfriend to talk to about everything.

Neville squeezing your hand brings you back to reality, and he looks at you with a cocked eyebrow. “What’s on your mind flower?” Neville chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Just thinking about how lucky I am.” You reply in a sing-song voice, raising yourself onto your toes to push your lips against Neville’s cheek.

“Y-Y/n?” A small voice calls out to you from across the hall.

You look over to see Cedric with his hands behind his back and a guilty expression on his face.

“Can I help you Cedric?” You reply simply, poison laced in your tone.

Cedric winces, but acknowledges he deserved that, and takes a deep breath.

“Listen, I’m sorry okay, what I did was stupid.” Cedric apologizes, still rather hesitant.

“It’s fine, c’mon Nev, everyone’s waiting for us.” You turn back to Neville and pull him along.

“T-That’s it?” Cedric chimes again. “What else do you want? You waited months for a halfhearted apology Cedric, I owe you nothing.” You hiss, storming off towards the exit towards the lake.

“Don’t let him get to you flower, he’s not worth it.” Neville smiles, squeezing your hand as he spots your friends gathered around Black Lake.

You nod and smile up at Neville again, grateful to have him beside you.

The two of you reach the small group of friends and sit yourselves down.

“Bout time you lovebirds showed up.” Ginny laughs.

“We got caught up in the halls, sorry for making you wait.” You sigh, resting your head on Neville’s shoulder.

“Was it Diggory?” Fred snarls, cracking his knuckles threateningly. You nod and George rolls his eyes. “Why I outta-”

“No, he ‘apologized.’” You sigh, using air quotation around apologized.

“Y/n told him off though.” Neville laughs, putting his arm around your shoulder.

“He deserved it, nice jon y/n.” Luna smiles, patting you on the back.

“Serves him right.” Hermione smirks, still rather bitter about everything that happened.

“Why are we still even talking about the bloke?” Ron chimes in, everyone nods synchronously and you all burst out laughing. The conversation shifts to Quidditch as Harry talks about gryffindor’s next game against slytherin and Ginny gushes over her invitation to play for the Holyhead Harpies. Everything was back to normal, and a sense of peace and happiness washes over you.

“Everything alright flower?” Neville asks, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You smile softly.

“No Nev, everything’s perfect.”

You lean up and press a soft kiss to Neville’s lips, deepening it for a moment to let your lips move in sync with one another, to feel Neville smile into the kiss.

“So glad I held on.”

#neville longbottom #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom fic #neville x you #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom x y/n

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tarontherocketman · 5 years ago

Text

Mr Madden | Madderton Teacher AU | Chapter 1

Ok SO, here’s the first chapter, I know it’s boring and short but just bear with me I didn’t want to jump straight into the action and drama because I genuinely haven’t written fanfiction since I was a teenager (I’m 22!) so I needed to familiarise myself with writing again and re-establish my writing style it’s a little bit choppy right now but I’ll get there over the next few chapters! Anyway, here goes! lowkey nervous that it’s been too long since I wrote and everyone will hate it

Taron sat in an empty classroom chewing mindlessly on the end of a pen, a stack of unmarked homework in front of him that he was already 95% sure he would be taking home with him tonight if this day didn’t get any better. Why did Drama students even need to do homework like this? They have enough homework from all the other classes, Drama should be their slice of freedom and self expression for the week, that’s how Taron saw it anyway. Of course, he could never say this aloud, he had to follow the system regardless of whether he liked it or not. After a small argument in his head about staying focused, Taron finally put pen to paper and began to write, not even writing one single letter before-

“For fuck sake,” he groaned quietly, forcing himself out of the chair and kicking it back behind him as he got up and walked to the door and around the building to the window he had just spotted it out of, another fight.

“Ok break it up lads come on,” he said sternly, not even needing to fully intervene with the wannabe hard nut year 7s. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Sorry Sir!” they both said hurriedly as they scuttled off around the corner, afraid of receiving a detention. Taron rolled his eyes and sauntered back to his classroom, not even reaching the door before deciding he needs a coffee before he can even think of marking more homework. At this thought, he veers away from the door to the drama block to head toward the main building to the teachers lounge, muttering a polite “alright” accompanied with a small nod to the students greeting him as he walked down the hallway. Said students, of course, being girls. The girls all had a thing for him and he knew it, he saw the way they all gushed at him. Little did they know.

“Have you seen the new History teacher?” a girl in the hallway squealed to her friend as she stood leaning against the wall, phone in one hand, bright pink bedazzled water bottle in the other. Taron’s ears pricked up, new History teacher? he thought, picking up the pace to the staff room to find out what was going on. Once he arrived, he pushed the door handle and poked his head round the door before fully entering. That’s when he saw him.

New History teacher, indeed..

In front of his eyes was the most gorgeous blue eyed man he had ever seen, thick lush brown hair with just the right amount of curl, perfect body, nice legs-

“Ah, Mr Egerton! Meet Mr Madden, he’s just joined today to replace Mr Little in the History department!” the excessively perky Head Teacher exclaimed, waving rather over enthusiastically towards the blue eyed beauty.

“Richard,” he introduced, extending his hand to Taron.

Scottish, as if he wasn’t dreamy enough.

“I- nice to meet you, I’m Taron, Drama,” Taron just about spluttered out, going in for the handshake offered, looking to the floor for lack of a better place to look without dying inside a little. Taron mentally pinched himself, he knew he needed to stop feeling like this. He vowed to himself as soon as he got this job that he’d keep out of anything of this sort, the last thing he needs is the entire school finding out he’s gay, so with this in mind he generally keeps his head down and lays low. Does his job, goes home. He can’t get soft for a teacher now after he’s come this far without screwing up and letting his guard down.

“Drama? I admire your confidence,” Richard commented with a smile. Taron chuckled softly.

“Not your thing?” he asked.

“Nah, just getting in to teaching was far enough out of my confidence zone! It’s done me a lot of good though- sorry I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” Richard stopped himself suddenly, a bit flustered.

“No no don’t worry,” Taron assured, “coffee?” he offered, gesturing as he walked over to the small staff coffee machine to make his own.

“Yeah would love one, thanks” Richard replied. Taron grabbed an extra mug for Richard, pouring two coffees from the pot that had already been prepared by the other staff who were coming and going from the cosy staff room. Taron handed Richard a coffee and the two naturally gravitated to a pair of chairs sat by the window.

“So, History?” Taron sparked up a conversation.

“Yeah!” Richard laughed softly, habitually rubbing the back of his neck. “I just got interested in it I guess, not sure I remember how..” he began to trail off, taking a long sip of coffee, “I actually used to be interested in acting.”

“Ahh my speciality,” Taron smirked, “what happened to that?” Richard sighed heavily, taking another sip of coffee.

“Ah I just don’t have the confidence,” he admitted.

“That’s fair enough mate, takes a lot of that I have to admit,” Taron nodded slowly, “never know, maybe one day!” Richard looked down and made a small ‘hmm’ sound with a smile. The pair sat in peace finishing their coffee before Richard placed his hands on his legs and sighed, signalling that it was time for him to get going.

“First class?” Taron asked gently.

“Yeah..I’m really nervous not gonna lie,” Richard confessed, feeling his cheeks go slightly pink.

“Aw don’t worry mate you’ll be absolutely fine, first one’s the worst. Do you have another teacher there observing you?”

“I do, and I’m not sure if that’s making me feel better or worse,” Richard replied, Taron laughed and nodded in agreement.

“I’ll walk you there if you like?” he offered.

“I would actually love that I’m still finding my way around,” Richard replied gratefully, standing up to put his coffee cup in the sink and walk to his new classroom with Taron, making small talk on the way there such as ‘what are the students like?’ or ‘are the other teachers nice?’ questions which Taron had elaborate answers for but not enough time to tell all his stories about, which resulted in him awkwardly asking Richard if he would maybe want to meet up for a drink at some point so he can “tell him his many stories”. Richard quickly agreed, which actually surprised Taron.

“Great, yeah, cool, I’ll talk to you soon then and we can..you know, arrange..something,” Taron stumbled very ungracefully and not near as smoothly as he thought that would sound in his head before he said it, inwardly facepalming.

“Yeah yeah good shout, see you later,” Richard smiled warmly, disappearing into his new classroom, pretending not to be trembling ever so slightly.

Later that night

Taron was curled up at the end of his sofa, iPad in his lap ready to open Facebook to try and find Richard and have a small social media stalk just to see his face again, those big blue eyes were calling him. He racked his brain for his surname, what was he introduced as? It definitely began with an M. He began typing ‘Richard M’ hoping facebook would magically know who he was searching for, but Richard was too common of a name.

“Mm…M…Mmm, ma?” he thought aloud before pausing suddenly, “Madden!” he sighed, rolling his eyes at his own forgetfulness. He typed in the name and found him pretty easily. Excitedly clicking on his profile and doing the obligatory flick through the profile pictures, short scroll down the feed, clicking on some pictures he’d been tagged in, asking himself if this was creepy or if everyone did it. Or both. He also mentally noted to himself to remind Richard that now he’s a teacher, changing his privacy settings would be a very smart idea, some of those students are crazy, especially for young male teachers like Richard and Taron.

Cute Taron thought to himself, zooming in on a group photo when he spotted Richard chilling in the far left of it. He came out of the picture and hovered his finger over the ‘add friend’ button, wondering if it was too soon. At that moment, as if in some sort of cartoon or movie, the bread he had put in the toaster a few minutes ago suddenly popped up, making him jump and press the button by accident. How does that even happen? He definitely looked too eager adding him already but it was done now, no point cancelling the request in case Richard already had his phone in his hand, that would be even more weird. Taron put his iPad to the side to grab his toast, buttering it and bringing it back to the sofa, noticing his iPad light up with a message. He hurriedly sat down and ignored the toast he had just made, picking the iPad up hastily and opening the message.

1 new message: Richard Madden Richard: hey, again x

“Heh,” Taron chuckled, loving a guy that puts a single kiss at the end of a message, deciding he should reflect his message the same way.

Taron: hey you x

Taron flinched after hitting send, realising suddenly how weird that sounded.

Richard: ha, ‘you’ love that x

Taron: yea sorry wasn’t thinking haha x

Richard: no you’re fine it’s sweet! when are we going for that drink then? x

Taron: well when are you free?x

Richard’s typing bubble appeared, disappeared and reappeared quite a few times suggesting he was on the fence about his answer, a quirk which Taron found quite cute.

Richard: ...tomorrow night?x

Taron: yep definitely up for that! How did your first day go by the way? Didn’t end up seeing you for the rest of the day x

Richard: yeah was all good definitely didn’t need to be as nervous as I was x

Taron: nice one knew you’d smash it mate! Anyway I better eat the toast that I forgot about and get to bed, bright and early for school tomorrow!x

Richard: I know right feels weird saying school tomorrow again but as a teacher now not a student, sure I’ll get used to it, night T x

“T, I like that..” Taron thought, should he nickname Richard too? It only seemed fair..

Taron: night Rich x

Taron lay his iPad down on the table for the last time that day, shovelling toast in his mouth before taking his plate to the kitchen to wash up and get settled for bed, trying to ignore the slight feeling of butterflies in his stomach every time he thought about his drink with Rich the following night, this might be a doorway into the exact thing he promised himself not to do when he started this job, but he couldn’t resist.

________________________________________________________

Tag list: @taron-eggmcmuffin

#madderton #madderton fanfiction #richard madden #taron egerton #taron x richard #richard x taron #fanfiction #teacher #madderton teacher au #alternate universe #teacher au #rocketman

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taylorinthetardis · 4 years ago

Text

Only Human - Prologue and Chapter 1

Hey everyone! So this is the Pride and Prejudice AU I’ve been working on for a while now. It’s set in Modern Day London and told from Darcy’s POV. It is cross posted on AO3, the link to it will be below. I promise I will update it soon, I’ve just been a little bit blocked for a while. But I promise there will be more. So here we go, the prologue and first chapter are under the cut! Enjoy!! Feedback is much appreciated!! If you like it and want to be on a taglist, please feel free to say so!!

Thank you to @madbaddic7ed for all your encouraging words and for convincing me to cross post!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109365

Only Human

Summary: The events of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice as seen through the eyes of Darcy. Story takes place in modern day London. Lizzy and Jane are American students studying abroad. Their sisters take turns visiting them throughout the story. Bingley and Darcy are recent business partners, but longtime friends. Caroline is as snake-ish as ever. George Wickham is an actual rapist - the rape will not be described in detail.

Pairing: William (Will) Darcy x Elizabeth (Lizzie) Bennet; Charles Bingley x Jane Bennet

Rating: Explicit due to eventual smut

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2.8K

Prologue

It is a truth universally acknowledged that I, William Darcy, am an arsehole. The following tale, dear reader, will explain how that came to be and how, I hope, I have made the preceding statement a falsehood instead. The following tale does not often show me at my best. I hope, however, that you may look past my faults and forgive my disgraceful, ignorant, and often impure thoughts as I relay to you the circumstances by which I came to fall deeply in love with the most wonderful, challenging woman I’ve ever met, the method by which I nearly ruined an incredibly important friendship, and the events surrounding the creation of a familial fissure that will never heal. I hope you will not judge me too harshly.

Chapter 1: Hanover Terrace

I was sat in my office. My office. Still getting used to that. When I took over control from my Aunt Catherine in April, a lot of work was done to make this office mine. Catherine’s taste in furniture was, how should I phrase this, medieval. I was honestly surprised we didn’t have to remove any torture devices when her furniture was cleared out to make room for my more practical mahogany desk and overstuffed leather chairs. My degree from Cambridge’s Judge Business School was propped in my bookcase with photos of my parents and Georgiana on either side. The office is still rather spartan in comparison to Charles’ but I don’t mind it. Our companies had recently merged, an event that proved profitable for both parties and served to deepen our friendship. Our offices are across the hallway from each other now, as opposed to being across the Thames. The economic windfall had been excellent for Charles. He had decided to purchase a new home, one big enough for himself and his sister and closer to her university. Charles is an orphan, like myself, and the sole caretaker of his younger sister Caroline, who recently began her studies at the fashion and design school at Regent’s University. I feel for Charles sometimes. His younger sister is an absolute terror, but I guess we can’t all be blessed with saints for sisters. Caroline is an uncommonly cruel young woman. She delights in shit-talking friends and strangers alike. She also is labouring under the delusion that she will one day be my wife. Her older sister, Louisa, has enjoyed several years of trophy-wifery and it seems Caroline has decided that is the life she wants to live as well. Although she just recently came of age, she has flirted with me non-stop since the first day Charles invited me home with him. We’ve known each other since we were 18 years old. We are now 25. Damn near seven years. SEVEN YEARS. Seven fucking years dealing with Caroline’s shite. She just turned 18 earlier this year. What the hell did she think I was going to do with her when she was eleven goddamn years old? Go to prison? I sure as shit think not.

Charles entered my office at around 1. He was bouncier than usual. He had either had more than one of his normal sickly-sweet coffees or he was in love again. Turned out it was both.

“Oh, Will I’m so happy you convinced me to snatch up Hanover Terrace. I met the most beautiful woman in world yesterday. I never would have known her if I hadn’t decided to take your advice. I invited her and her sister out with us tonight. You don’t mind, do you? Even if you do, once you meet her, you’ll forget you were ever bothered.” He spoke at such a speed that I only caught about every third word. My ears perked, however, at the ‘out with us tonight’ part. Out with us? I don’t remember agreeing to go anywhere with Charles. He always wants to go to nightclubs. He knows I don’t dance. He always does this. Drags me to some poppy nightclub with strobe lights and terrible music.

“And how did you meet this one Charles? Spill your coffee on her? No, wait, you were walking Caroline’s stupid pug and she thought it was cute and wanted to pet it.”

“Christ, am I becoming that predictable?” Yes Charles. Every girl you’ve ever fancied has fallen into your life in a cliché.

I nodded. He sighed.

“Well, it’s different this time. She isn’t like any other girl I’ve been with. More beautiful than Sarah, kinder than Tilly, oh and her sister Will. Her sister has got to be one of the most intelligent women I’ve ever spoken to in my life. They’re both very beautiful Will. If I was a betting man, I’d wager that Lizzie might even be beautiful enough to tempt you out of your shell and entice you to have some goddamn fun for once. Maybe she’ll even get you to dance.” He nudged me with his elbow, winking. Yeah right Charles. Not even Charlize Theron could get me to dance at a nightclub.

“I seriously doubt that Charles. So, what’s this one called, hm?”

“Jane.” He said it with a sigh. Oh, he’s already long gone. “Her sister is called Elizabeth, but she prefers Lizzie. They’re American, Darce. From the Midwest. They’re both studying abroad at Regent’s for the year.”

“And to what godforsaken place will you be attempting to drag me to tonight?”

“I was thinking Drama? I wanna show off a little Will. I really like her; I want to impress her.”

“Drama might be a little much for a midwestern girl, don’t you think? What about that place we went in Camden a few months ago, by the lock?”

“Lock 17? Isn’t that a little down market for you Darce? There isn’t even a dress code!”

“Come off it, you know I couldn’t care less Charles. I don’t even like going out. I just think Lock 17 will be the better choice for her. You don’t want to scare her. Anyway, I think you’ll have a nice time. Without me.”

“Nuh uh, you aren’t getting out of this. You come or you’re dead to me.” I rolled my eyes. Jesus he’s such a goddamn drama queen.

“Ugh fine I’ll go. But I’m not dancing and you can’t make me. I’m a grown man Charles. So, meet at Hanover Terrace at, what, 8pm? Or should we meet earlier?”

“I was thinking 7:30, that way we’ll all have plenty of time to get ready and you can get to know them before we go. I’m going to order the cab for 8 so we’ll have plenty of time to get there if there’s any slow spots.”

“Please tell me you’ll be leaving Caroline at home.”

“Yeah, so she can kick my arse over it later? No chance. Besides, we’ll probably lose her to the dance floor as soon as we get in. She’ll find some nice dumb boy to buy her drinks and you won’t have to see her all night.” No Charles she’ll be on me like white on rice all damn night and you bloody well know it.

“Alright. But I’m not dancing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I arrived at Hanover Terrace about 7:30. As soon as Charles opened the door, I immediately regretted my decision to come. I should have told him I got food poisoning from lunch or something. Caroline was stomping through the front room, going from box to box screaming that she couldn’t find her favourite clubbing heels. Who the fuck has a favourite pair of heels for clubbing? Heels seem so impractical for dancing. Charles’ new love and her sister had yet to arrive and Charles appeared to be in a slight panic.

“What if she doesn’t come Will?” He said shakily. Christ he’s in a full meltdown.

“I’m sure she’ll be here in a few minutes Charles. It’s not even close to 8 o’ clock yet. You’ve got plenty of time, just relax.” I took a minute to look around his new home. He had barely unpacked. I helped him get everything in order for the move about two weeks ago and he moved in a few days later. Everything was basically where it was when I visited three days ago. “Have you genuinely not unpacked anything Charles? How are you even living in here?”

“I’ve got enough clothes unpacked upstairs to last another week probably. Caroline’s rarely home in the evening anymore so I just keep getting take-away. There’s a Chipotle just around the corner on Baker Street. You know I love a burrito bowl. Something I have in common with the lovely Jane.” Gag. Well, at least the movers got his furniture set up, although most of the downstairs furnishings were unusable because they were covered with cardboard boxes and plastic totes and suitcases. The sofa in the main living area was clear enough that I took a seat. Caroline continued her tear through the front room until a triumphant screech echoed through the relatively empty house. The heels in question were easily six inches high, sparkly platformed monstrosities. They completed a look which can only be described as what a disco ball would look like if it was a contestant on Love Island. Hopefully Jane and her sister would be a bit more sensibly dressed, like Charles and myself. I decided on a plain black tee and black jeans with my black and white trainers. Charles had gone with a less monochromatic palette, wearing a bright blue button down that was almost the colour of his eyes and a pair of dark blue jeans. We’re wearing the same shoes. Us and every other man in London. Suddenly there was knock on the door. I checked my watch, 7:35. I told Charles he was worrying for nothing. He bounced towards the door like Caroline’s pug when he needed a shit. He opened the door to reveal a young blonde woman and a younger looking woman with auburn hair.

“Jane, Lizzie, I’m so pleased you’re here. Sorry about the mess, haven’t had much time to unpack yet, with work and all.” Charles led them through to the room I had posted up in. The dark-haired girl peered at me through purple framed glasses. Her sister gave her a little nudge. Well fuck, Charles wasn’t kidding. God they’re both gorgeous! They were dressed considerably more sensibly than Caroline. Jane wore a low pair of black heels that complemented her red cocktail dress. Her sister was even more comfortably dressed, in black leggings, Doc Martins, and a plain white t-shirt. She wore a black leather jacket over the tee. Neither girl appeared to be wearing much make-up. Both were possessed of the natural beauty that Caroline tried to fabricate in her hour-long make-up routine that left her looking like she had Photoshopped her own face, but in real life. I stuck my hand out. “Will Darcy. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Wow, sound more like you’re a hundred years old, why don’t you Will?

“Will, this is Lizzie,” he gestured to the brunette, “and this is Jane.” He put his hand on the small of the blonde’s back and she blushed redder than Charles’ hair.

“Lizzie Bennet. It’s so nice to meet you Will.” She took my hand with her considerably smaller one and shook it. It was a firmer handshake than I’d had from some of my business associates. She dropped my hand and her sister took up the vacancy. Her handshake was much softer, grip much lighter, much more feminine. Looking at the two women before me, I wouldn’t have known they were sisters if Charles hadn’t told me. They couldn’t have been more different. One blonde, one brunette. Jane had soft blue eyes, Lizzie’s were bright and hazel. Jane was tall and slender, her sister shorter and softer around the middle. Taking all of her in I came to a sudden realization: she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Okay Will be cool. For once in your bloody life be cool. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak Lizzie launched into an animated conversation with Charles about her day. It was all I could do not to stare at her mouth while it moved faster than Charles’ ever had, no matter how in love he was or how many Frappuccinos he had consumed. I sat back down on the sofa, while Lizzie sat on the carpet, Charles on the coffee table, and Jane remained standing. Lizzie told us about one of her professors, an archaeologist who taught university classes when he wasn’t on digs.

“He’s like a real-life Indiana Jones except without the bullwhip and the hat. And he’s not Harrison Ford. But still. Oh, and don’t even let me get started on my Shakespeare professor. George. He’s my most favourite.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying your studies Lizzie. But don’t forget to explore the city while you’re here! London is full of endless things to see and do. I’ve lived here most of my life and I still haven’t seen everything!” Charles is so blessed. I wish I could just talk. Talking is better than staring. C’mon mouth, work! “Wouldn’t you agree Darce?”

Shit, I have to talk now? I nodded, again opening my mouth to speak, but no words came. Charles picked the conversation back up, turning to Jane to ask if she had a pleasant day as well.

“Yes. I took a lovely walk through Regent’s Park today. I only have the one class on Thursdays so I’ve been using the rest of the day to explore a bit. Lizzie’s schedule is so much fuller than mine so I’ve been finding places for us to go on the weekends. We’ve gone to Camden Market and Hyde Park. When you met us the other day, we were on our way back from the Tate Modern, I don’t remember if I said or not.”

“Yes, you said Lizzie was disappointed because she thought you were going to the Tate Britain.”

“Do you have something against modern art?” Oh, cool. Thanks, mouth. Why did that come out like I’m angry about that? Modern art is dumb. How is a pile of rubber or a cut-up McDonald’s bag art?

“I can appreciate that its art, like how I can appreciate that romance novels are literature or techno is music, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I prefer the old masters and classical art to a splash of paint on a canvas. My little cousin can do that too, does that mean her art belongs in a prestigious museum? Naw fam it sure don’t.” Yes. I wholly agree. Why does she have her eyebrow raised at me? Does she think I don’t agree? What is my face doing? Am I scowling? I don’t want to scowl. Did she say ‘fam’? That doesn’t matter. Why does it feel like it matters?

“You’ll have to excuse my sister. She’s never been shy about her opinions. And she has a lot of them.” Jane shot her sister a disapproving look. Lizzie just shrugged. Caroline chose that moment to come swanning into the room. Seeing there was a perfectly good space next to her brother on the coffee table, she chose to throw herself down into my lap. Oh, for fucks sake. She’s gonna get fake tanner on my trousers.

“Will, my love," I threw up in my mouth a little, "we’re going to have such a wonderful time at Drama tonight.” I can’t wait to burst her bubble.

“Caroline, did Charles not tell you? We aren’t going to Drama. We’re going to Lock 17, in Camden.” I tried to move her from my lap, but she dug her heels into the carpet for grounding. Fat Christ, Charles will you get your sister under control?

She sputtered, on the verge of a full tantrum directed at her brother when, blessedly, Charles’ phone vibrated. “That’ll be the cab. Caroline are you still coming?”

She jumped up off my lap and straightened the piece of sequined cloth trying to pass itself off as a dress. “Of course I’m going Charles. I put all this on, I can’t just not go out now!” She stomped off to the dining area to get her bag from the table. Charles led Jane towards the front door. I extended my hand down to Lizzie, who took it. I pulled her up from the floor. You should let go of her hand now Will. You’re being weird. I dropped her hand like it had burned me. Smooth. She looked at me, smirked and cocked that eyebrow again. Saying nothing, she followed her sister and Charles out the front door. Caroline took advantage of my initial inaction by slipping her arm into mine, leading me towards the cab. And my doom.

#Taylor writes #Pride and Prejudice #fanfiction #Modern AU #Darcy's POV #Mr Darcy #Elizabeth Bennet #Charles Bingley #Jane Bennet

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darlinrogue · 4 years ago

Note

matthew found himself getting anxious at every all elite pay-per-view. but something about this specific revolution—— this specific main event had him more worried than usual ‘exploding barbed-wire death match’… it had problems written all over it. biting nail after nail, cuticle after cuticle. “since pac’s going after the tag titles, adam’s next in line for kenny” he heard tony khan say from the headset in guerilla. matt’s heart stopped, right then and there. he had to find adam.

Matt

A few hours before the show Adam had scoped out his vantage point. A seat in the back on the ground floor at Daily’s Place. High-up, but not too far away. Even better it was an empty section. After his match with Hardy, Adam changed into street clothes, crept-out from backstage, and took his seat. While the street fight with Darby and Sting played on the big screen, the ring crew set-up for the so called, “Exploding Barbed Wire Death Match.” The crew wore thick leather gloves. They maneuvered pieces of hardware, metal, and explosives to the floor. Bryce looked like the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters. It was, without a doubt, the most elaborate, inane match idea Adam had ever seen. He never delved into that Death match shit. An occasional no DQ with chairs and table settled Adam’s need for violence, but this was next level.

And it was the exact kinda bullshit that Kenny would come up with.

The construction of a wrestling ring had always fascinated Adam. In his teenage years he shadowed production crews to shows. From them he learned how to square a ring by measuring the diagonal, how to lay down the boards, roll out the pads, and lash down the mats. Then, tightening the ropes and tying in the turnbuckles. For the cheaper productions, duct tape repaired holes torn in the apron. All the little things he didn’t have to do anymore now that he was a ‘star.’ Part of Adam missed the days on the indies when he’d show-up a day early for set-up and leave late for tear down. Get to watch a show for free that way. Somehow, watching the AEW ring crew bind explosive barbed wire around the ropes didn’t make Adam feel very nostalgic, though. Instead something cold settled in the bottom of his stomach.

Adam had brought a beer out with him and he brought the bottle to his lips. He watched the pyro tech guys rig-up the explosives with lines of electric wire. The ring crew were filtering out. The fight on the screen was winding down. Adam glanced over though as someone approached on his right. Wedging himself between the seats and coming down the row was Matt Jackson. He’d changed back into a gray, AEW jacket, his hair twisted into a quick and dirty bun. All he had for Adam was a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets and his throat bobbed, not meeting Adam’s gaze. Instead he focused on the dust laden concrete beneath his feet. Adam shifted in his seat, coming forward, elbows pressed into the arm rest. Matt chewed on his lip and then gestured at Adam’s hand.

“You okay?” He asked, thinly. “Matt worked you over good.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine,” Adam said. “Just sore.”

He looked down at his hand. An athletic trainer had wrapped it in bandages and popped him a couple ibuprofen. There was nothing broken, just some bruising and swelling. Adam’d have to get an X-ray sooner rather than later, though. After the match high ran down though it hurt like a mother. Matt and Adam stared at each other for a second, before Adam tilted his head to the side. An indication and invitation for Matt to sit. Matt sunk into the chair beside Adam, hands rubbing over his knees. His fingers pattered over his thighs and he shifted, exuding nervous energy. When he settled back into the chair it was like he was sitting back into the barbed wire in the ring.

“Congratulations, on beating the carny though,” Matt offered with a small laugh. “You guys had a good match. What are you going to do with the money?”

“Oh, yeah, uh, well I was thinking,” Adam began, he put his beer on the floor by his feet and leaned back. “I need a new lawnmower and there’s enough to pay off the mortgage— I don’t need much else so like, I told them to just, just to give the rest to some cause. Someone mentioned the public schools in Jacksonville? I liked that, so that’s kinda what we went with.”

“Seriously?” Matt breathed. “That’s amazing, Adam.”

“Fuck, I don’t want that money anyway, makes me feel dirty,” Adam admitted. He sucked on his cheek. “Chris and MJF didn’t beat you up too much did they? Ya’ll pulled it out, but it was kinda brutal to watch.”

“Oh, so you watched our match?” Matt noted. They looked at each other and something warm sparked in Adam’s chest. “Takes more than a baseball bat to keep me down. Besides that’s nothing compared to— to all this.”

Matt’s voice rasped as he flicked his finger towards the completed ring. Adam followed his gaze and got what he meant. It wasn’t the barbed wire or the explosives. It was the anticipation of seeing Kenny in the middle of that ring. Kenny, bloodied and burned and hurting, with his life on the line. There was a long, long list of shit that could go wrong. And Adam and Matt shared in common a worry wort gene. It was in their nature to look at a set-up like that, then let their minds run to all the terrifying possibilities. It was the inner instinct of ‘older brother’ in them. The shit going on Matt’s mind had already crossed Adam’s a half-dozen times.

Injury, pain, and even death, were the risks of their sport, everyone who stepped in the ring had comes to terms with their mortality. It wasn’t often though that Adam sat down for a match and was fully level with the idea that one of his oldest friends may actually die. It was a ‘holy shit’ moment, this was how far they’d come. Well over a year ago Adam remembered the way Kenny’s voice cracked over the phone when he talked about Mox. The desperate, twisted edge in his tone, jagged as broken glass. It was obsession rolled with a fragile mental health teetering over the abyss of fear, anxiety, and depression. All Adam had done was stand back and watch as Kenny was crowded to the cliff. Then, Adam witnessed the merciless hand shove Kenny over. And now, at the bottom, body and mind broken over the rocks, Kenny challenged Mox to an Exploding Barbed Wire Death Match. The entire Elite had hit rockbottom in the past six months at least once but none of them had involved explosives.

“Kenny’s gone off the fucking deep end, man” Adam observed, like he was commenting on the weather. He picked-up his beer from the floor and took a sip. “This is batshit. You let him do this?”

“It’s not like he asked us?!” Matt protested, his hands fluttered around him. “TK approved it and you know, it’s his show. Besides, it’s not exactly like Kenny is talking to us right now.”

Adam shifted in his seat. He and Kenny hadn’t been on speaking terms since October. A long run of almost six months as they awkwardly avoided each other in the hallways. Of course, Adam had his handful of ignored, attempted phone calls and double texts from back when the tag-team broke-up. He’d kept abreast of the Elite’s crazy drama and then felt quietly grateful he wasn’t apart of it. Forsaken doors, Barbed Wire Death Matches; literally everything to do with Don Callis, Impact, and the Good Brothers— no thanks. Adam got why he was out of the loop, though. Kenny getting sick of his shit and kicking him out of his life was inevitable as it was deserved— But, Kenny wasn’t talking to the Bucks either? That was a red flag. Shit, Adam shouldn’t be worried about Kenny, grown ass man that he was but—Adam took another sip from his beer and returned it to its spot by his feet. Yeah, he was kinda worried about Kenny.

“Why are you even out here?” Matt asked, an edge of accusation in his voice.

“Shit, I dunno, figured if my old tag-partner was gonna get blown-up I should at least be here to witness it?” Adam speculated, with a shrug. The buzzing crowd indicated the end of the Street Fight that Adam had been ignoring. Whispers of anticipation floated through the arena. “Maybe— I just got some shit on my mind. Trying to figure out what comes next.”

“You’re in the rankings,” Matt blurted-out. Adam glanced at Matt and met his eyes. His face was stricken in the stark lights and his throat bobbed. Music hit, Mox’s theme, moments before Adam could even think up an answer.

Mox wasn’t a bullet point on Adam’s list of relations. He was just a guy he occasionally saw backstage or in production meetings. They’d been in a ring once before. Adam kinda saw him as this hardened badass with a devil may care attitude. A weird, enigmatic guy with a prickly attitude and a hardened reputation. The flash of a silver flask, drawn from Mox’s inner jacket pocket, spoke to Adam though in a way few else in the arena would get. He understood the motivation behind the deep drink Mox indulged. If a guy like Jon Moxley needed alcohol to steady his nerves, then shit, it was really that bad. Kenny’s entrance then, was a nail in the coffin. He dressed subdued, in jeans and a shirt instead of elaborate gear. No bullshit spiel from Justin Roberts, just his music, and the belt. Adam worked his jaw and took some solace from his own beverage. Besides him, Matt shifted and squirmed, his thumb at his mouth gnawing on his already bitten down nail.

Before Ring of Honor shipped him off to Japan, Adam was never into Japanese wrestling. His library of matches included the DVR recordings of WWF matches, the local shit you could get on the TV, and eventually, the various indie shows across the South-East he attended. It was all catch wrestling, some technical shit, and whatever the Hardys were doing. Death matches, likewise, were a joke in the schools and shows he attended. “How many commas?” Was the refrain for what it’d take to get an average wrestler to do something as stupid as involve barbed wire in a match. Therefore, a Japanese, Exploding, Barbed Wire, Death Match, was completely out of Adam’s wheel house. He had no idea what to expect. What he got when the bell rang was totally outside of the realm of his imagination.

It was the little shit: Kenny was dead serious, Mox made the sign of the cross, and the methodical, slow pace they set. It was all physical strength as they jostled, tied-up with each other, all too aware of the limitations of the ring. After a year as his tag-partner, Adam was familiar with Kenny’s style. His explosive speed, how he worked the ropes, and his overwhelming energy. This was a different Kenny, almost uncomfortable in the confines of his cage. Close calls, pushing, prodding, biting each other, trying to force the other into barbed wire they treated with the respect it deserved it. Mox beat Kenny with every instrument available and Adam knew the way Kenny writhed was genuine. When Kenny sent Mox into the far ropes and a flash of fire sent billows of smoke into the arena, Matt gripped Adam’s hand like it was an instinctive reflex. He squeezed, hard, pressing his fingers around Adam’s palm. Pain shot-up Adam’s arm like a bolt of lightning. Adam hissed and reached over to pry Matt off his injured hand.

“Jesus, Matt,” Adam hissed.

Matt murmured apologies and yet his grip just switched to Adam’s wrist instead, which wasn’t much better because Adam’s whole arm was sore. Since apparently Matt needed to cling to something, Adam hooked his whole right arm around Matt’s shoulders. Then reached his left hand over to grip Matt’s hand. It was awkward and the armrest dug into Adam’s ribs but Matt rested his head in the crook of Adam’s shoulder, so it worked. Their fingers interlaced and Adam could only imagine how fucking goofy they looked. If the cameras happened to pick them up in the crowd they would never live it down. At least, Kenny had his footing in the match, he was in control, working over Mox, looking for that pin— Adam wasn’t sure if he was rooting for Kenny or not. Or, if he just kinda wanted this to be over because it was evidently mentally ripping Matt to shreds.

Wanted this to be over, the belt out of Kenny’s hands, and somewhere else, where it couldn’t be between them anymore.

Blood and smoke, broken hardware, torn skin. Kenny in the ropes, blinded by the dust, begging for water for his burned eyes. Matt’s breath, high in his throat, turning his face into Adam’s shoulder. And Adam just watched. He watched and forgot about the beer warming to room temperature by his side. A pressure built in his jaw, and yet, he couldn’t look away. No clear thoughts surfaced, nothing solid, or real. Just ideas, images, tangled together with the scene before him like the barbed wire wrapped around Mox’s arm. He didn’t allow himself to settle. Didn’t allow himself to latch onto anything, just let it all drift, staying in the moment of the violence, pain, and brutality of two men literally trying to kill each other. The sight of Kenny’s blood, red, crimson, staining his white shirt, and marring his pale skin burned Adam’s vision.

He thought back to Full Gear. The way he could tell Kenny was in his head. Always a half-step ahead. And that whole match Adam was working his ass off just to keep-up. Trying to wiggle his way into opening, taking advantage of every opportunity like a life line. He’d watched that match back a hundred times and he could every single one of his mistakes. He found a new error to fixate on each time he hit the replay button. The truth was that physically, Kenny had no significant advantage over Adam. In fact, Adam knew he had all the benefits of superior strength, better cardio, and youth. In skill, there was nothing dividing them— After that tag-team run, Adam knew he could hang with Omega. What kept Adam back, what left him behind, in the shadow of Kenny was himself. His own tangled thoughts and anxieties, burning a hole in his heart. He had stared-up the lights, like a crashed angel, and kinda accepted that final pin.

Like, he just gave-up, after bearing the burden of a year from hell. Let it all roll off his shoulders. Atlas shrugged, and the world shattered. And in the midst of broken glass, he had rebuilt. With no end goal in mind. Just, kinda up, kinda forward, one step at a time, gazed fixated on his toes so he didn’t slip in his own blood, and not ahead, and now he was looking at the ring. Accepting the smoke and blood and tears and sweat, the desperate men swinging punch-drunk as the ten minute warning sounded. It was an observation, he could note it, and let the moment past. Adam was in the rankings, number three last Tuesday, maybe higher next Tuesday. It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t have to mean anything.

Didn’t have to do anything but just sit here and hold Matt.

When the Good Brothers rushed out to the ring Matt sighed and laughed, but it was high-pitched, shaking his head. Adam watched Mox go through the chair in a One Winged Angel but all Matt was muttering was that he ‘couldn’t take this anymore.’ He didn’t want to see the ending, but he did hear the three count, and Adam admitted that his masochist desire had puttered out. So, he pushed Matt to his feet and they slid through the rows to escape the arena. Outside, fresh air, cool and tinged with the taste of the metallic city, brushed against Adam’s heated face. Matt walked to the curb outside Daily’s place and collapsed. He sat there, breathing hard and fast, head between his knees, some, strangled, broken noise erupting from his throat. Adam shoved his hands in his jean pockets and sat down next to him. A lot of noises erupted from the arena behind them but the sounds muddled with the traffic, sirens, people, nothing distinct.

“Hey,” Adam whispered, reaching for Matt’s shoulder. He placed his hand in the crook of Matt’s neck and gathered him closer to his side. Matt was still hyperventilating and so Adam ordered firmly, but not unkindly, “dude, slow down. Take a deep breath. It’s okay, it’s over.”

Matt’s entire body trembled and Adam had half a mind to break six months of radio silence by calling Nick to tell him to come get his brother. Instead, Matt collapsed against Adam, burying his face in his chest as for the first time in probably an hour, he breathed. Every tensed muscle unraveled beneath Adam’s hand as all the fight left Matt. Tears tracked trails of dust down Matt’s cheeks and Adam hummed, low in his throat. It was something content, a pleased purr. He always liked feeling useful, needed, relied upon, and to have Matt physically leaning on him like this— felt good. It felt right. He’d been dropping the Bucks and Kenny, fumbling like an idiot, for a while now. Maybe now, when he felt a little stronger, a little more firm, he could hold them right.

Maybe—

Maybe, and the thought trailed off without conclusion.

“I hate this, why can’t it just be over,” Matt gasped into Adam’s shirt. “Why can’t we— why can’t we just, just be friends again?! We should never have left Japan. This shit wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t made this damn company. AEW was supposed to be fun, and all it did was just—just tear us apart.”

Against Adam’s thigh, Matt fisted his hand, nails biting into his palm. Adam placed his chin on top of Matt’s head. He didn’t respond to his question because he didn’t have an answer. No response that was adequate. Just a recap of all their broken dreams and failures. Matt knew the story. He didn’t need Adam to try to fix this. Adam couldn’t fix this but he could be here. He could do that.

“I want things back to how they were,” Matt admitted, and his voice was softer, but hitched with a sob.

“I don’t,” Adam said.

Matt stiffened under Adam’s arm. And Adam had a feeling the thoughts that came to his mind weren’t the most gentle thing to say to Matt as he spiraled off a panic attack— but they were maybe the things Matt needed to hear.

“I hated being in the EVP room,” Adam continued, and his voice shook. “I hated living in your shadows. I hated watching you guys go out with Kenny and be in his corner, while I always had my matches alone. I hated— I hated being the weak link. I hated never feeling like I belonged. Like, I never deserved to be your friend.”

“Hangman—” Matt pulled back to look at Adam, his eyes wet with tears.

“No, no, Matt listen,” Adam insisted. He hooked his hand around the back of Matt’s neck. “This shit, would’ve happened in Japan, or NXT, or Ring of Honor, no matter where we went. Because wherever you go, there you are, and we carried our baggage here.”

“I just had no idea we made you so miserable,” Matt confessed. “That we made you—”

“Dude, I made myself miserable,” Adam laughed, interrupting him. “All up in my head and shit, and I’m done with that. I’m done with the bullshit and the drama. Maybe, I’m not the best, but I just wanna—I wanna focus on, I don’t know, having fun? Doing what I can. Forget about the stupid title.”

“So, you’re not going to challenge Kenny?” Matt asked. He reached for Adam’s face, pressed his palm to Adam’s cheek. Adam shivered under his touch, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“I don’t know,” Adam admitted. He ducked his head but Matt smoothed his thumb over Adam’s cheekbone and forced him to look up again. Forced him to meet Matt’s dark eyes, and Adam had no choice but to think, Holy shit, I love him. So, he whispered and confided, “I don’t know if I can.”

“I think you can,” Matt said. He inched closer so they were thigh-to-thigh, he tilted Adam’s face down to knock their foreheads together. Adam could hear the smile on his lips. “Someone has to knock some sense into Kenny. I don’t want to see my best friends fight but—”

“Matt,” Adam sighed. His hand reached across to Matt’s opposite hip.

“What?” Matt asked. Adam nuzzled his nose into his cheek. “Adam?”

“Nothing,” Adam smiled.

And he couldn’t help but to wonder why Matt believed in him when no one else did. What he saw that he recognized as potential. Matt’s patience as Adam strayed and wandered— that the frustration, read more as worry now than anger. And it was Adam that Matt sought out tonight. And Matt wasn’t shoving him away as he leaned in, the ghost of his breath on Matt’s bottom lip. Then, Matt’s phone rang and he was cussing, digging into his pockets. He checked the collar ID, noted it was Nick and murmured bashful excuses to Adam before answering. Adam leaned back on his hands, scratching his boot heels against the pavement.

“Hey, man,” Matt intoned, a hand running through his hair. HIs voice was still raw and he swallowed hard, putting on a mask of cool, stoicism for his little brother. “What’s up?”

Adam heard the low rumble of Nick’s voice on the other side. Chewing out Matt for vanishing during production. TK needed them ASAP, and Matt was nodding, promising he’d show-up soon. He just needed some time to get some fresh air.

“Is everyone okay?” Matt asked, and Adam leaned forward to hear the response.

“Yeah, everyone’s okay, Kenny, Mox, and fucking, Eddie? He ran out there right before the bomb went off, the idiot,” Nick grumbled. “But it was a fucking dud. It didn’t go off at all— the fans actually boo’ed, I can’t tell if TK is furious or relieved. I mean, Kenny made it so I don’t know what we expected—”

Adam choked on a laugh, leaning his elbows on his knees. His entire shoulders shook as cackles broke out of his chest and he covered his mouth to hide the noise. Adam barely registered Nick asking Matt who he was with before Matt hung-up the phone. Matt shook his head and then he was laughing too, breaking the tide of all the bundled, nervous fear that had held them. Adam knew in his head there was way more shit to work out between them. That they weren’t out of the woods yet and his heart was too tender, too fragile, to take another break but— it felt better.

In some ways, it almost felt good, and ‘almost good’ is a state Adam hadn’t been in for a long time.

“You should uh, go do your job,” Adam suggested.

Matt pushed to his feet and Adam stood too. He felt that awkwardness, the unacknowledged weirdness of almost making out with your not-best-friend, or the fact that they’re supposed to hate each other right now. All the crap that was still between them, all the land mines of conversations not yet triggered. Maybe, they were untangling the barbed wire. Closing the distance inch-by-inch, and it was magnetic, almost inevitable— but Adam wasn’t sure if he was ready to stand beside Matt. Maybe because he was afraid of being hurt again. Maybe because he was dead terrified of the air in the EVP room when he was swallowing all his words. Maybe, because he had always walked behind, and never beside.

He asked Matt, last year, for a little more time, and apparently, he still needed a little more yet.

“Yeah, uh, talk to you later, I guess,” Matt managed. When he breathed there was a shutter, the residuals of his panic attack. Adam figured if he was with his brother, he’d be fine. Nick would take care of him. Adam worried about a lot things but he never worried about the Bucks because they always had each other.

“Yeah,” Adam nodded. “See ya.”

Matt turned back to the arena first. Adam stood there, watching him walking away and refusing to let his thoughts roll over it.

It is what it is.

#darkenedhearts #‘The Hangman’ || Adam: IC #‘Deals with God’ || Adam: Verse

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arrow-guy · 5 years ago

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Struck By Night (5/??)

Summary: Fate has a funny way of pulling people together. Whether or not that’s a good thing, only time will tell.

A/N: Hi, it’s been over a year since this fic was last updated, but we’re bringing this bitch back because I still love vampires and Tony Stark. Hope you guys have fun with the Drama lmao

Pairing: AvengersxReader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings:

Part 4

I sit on the couch in the common area, a mug of scalding hot tea clutched in my hands. I stare into the fire blazing in the hearth and sink into the cushions as best I can.

“I thought you didn't like human food.”

Startled, my body jerks when I tear my eyes away from the fire and tea sloshes over the side of the mug, onto my bare hands. I hiss in pain and jump up from the couch, shaking the tea from my hands. Tony stands behind the couch, his eyes wide.

“I don't usually. Tea helps me warm up, though. Especially in the middle of winter.” Tony reaches out for the mug and I hand it to him. “Tea isn't much of a food though is it?”

He sets the mug on the counter and grabs a dishtowel from the fridge handle. “I guess not,” he says. “Sorry I snuck up. Didn't mean to startle you.”

I take the towel from him and wipe my hands off before moving on to dab at the spots on my pant leg.

“It's fine, I should have been paying better attention.” I dab at the wet spot on my knee a little before giving up. “What’s up?”

“Bruce told me about your idea to create a blood substitute that would be viable both for human use and a food source for you.” Tony shakes his head. “You think we could do it?”

I shrug and plop down on the couch again. “Do you? Because Dr. Banner seems interested in at least trying.”

Tony takes a seat at the opposite end and folds one leg under himself so that he can face me.

“It's not that I don't think it can be done, we're literal geniuses. The time in which we have to do so is what worries me. You only have so much Hydra blood. It won't last forever. What are your options when it runs out if we don't finish in time?”

“I'm no stranger to rationing food, Tony. I've already started planning out meals so that there won't be any hunger issues along the way. If I get a little light-headed I'll stay in my room.” I scratch my cheek. “Even if it doesn't work for me, as long as it's a viable option for humans, it has to be worth it, right?”

He nods slowly. “You are so much different than I thought you’d be.”

My lips quirk up into a smile. “So you’ve said.”

“I’m serious. I can’t seem to figure you out. Just as soon as I think I’ve got all the information, Barnes or Rogers throw out some new shit or you come out of left field with something like sucking dick to stay fed.”

I burst out laughing. “I never said that I actually did that, just that it happened. But, I aim to surprise, Tony. And if I can surprise you, maybe my work here is done.”

“Oh, don’t go! We’re just getting to know each other.”

“Mmm, there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.” I shiver and wrap my arms around myself.

“What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “I’m just cold, is all. It happens.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Unless you want to cuddle, probably not.” I sigh and push myself up from the couch. “It may be best for me to just go curl up in bed.”

“Alright.” His eyes follow me as I pour my tea down the drain and head for the hallway. “Tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to turn up the thermostat when you get there.”

I shoot him a smile and pull my hoodie tighter around me. “Thanks, Tony. Really. For everything.”

He smiles but waves me off. “Nothing to thank me for, (Y/N), I just want you to be comfortable.”

I shake my head and turn down the hallway with a smile playing at my lips. For as much as Tony has done for his team, and even for me, he doesn’t quite seem to know when or how to give himself credit.

I shuffle into the lab around 2 pm and find Bruce and Tony hunched over a single tablet. I plop down onto a stool across from them. Neither look up.

“Morning,” Tony greets.

“It’s not morning,” I mumble. I lean on the table with my chin in my hand.

“Did you ever get warmed up last night?”

I nod. “I did, thanks. The vent is right over my bed. It was really nice.”

“I’m glad.”

“Mmm,” I hum. “What have you two been up to today?”

“We’ve been looking into your blood substitute,” Bruce answers.

“Oh?”

“We know that no one has been able to successfully do anything like this, so if it works, it could completely change the world.”

“But?”

“But there’s no way to know whether or not it would be a viable source of food for you.”

I shake my head. “Fine. If you can figure out a way to make something that can help other people, you should do that. You could change the lives of people with chronic anemia, sickle cell, dialysis patients, and millions of others. It’s worth it just for that.”

“I almost forgot you were a nurse for a moment,” Tony says.

“I’d thank you to remember that I’m more than just a vampire, Mr. Stark,” I say. I smirk when his eyes widen. "Anyway, where were you thinking of starting? I'm assuming that you're looking at artificial hemoglobin, at the very least."

Tony laughs. "Yes, actually. That's exactly what we were thinking."

"Perfect. I haven't been able to run tests myself, so I can only guess, but I believe that that is the one thing that my body metabolizes when I take in blood. On a base level, it holds the most nutritional value."

"It's a protein, so that would make sense," Bruce says. "Outside of baseline volume replacement, it's the one thing that's been hardest to reproduce for any kind of artificial blood supplement.”

I nod. “That would make sense.”

“I think we need to have a backup plan,” Tony says. “Just in case this doesn’t work out, where will you be getting blood?”

“I don’t know. Somehow I doubt it’d be as easy as crashing a bunch of Hydra parties and draining them for fun afterward.” I run my fingers over my lips as I think. “I guess I’d have to go out into the city and see if I can pull anything.”

Tony pulls a face. “If you have to.”

“Well it’s not like you guys want to be my blood bags, now do you? Mass anemia isn’t exactly ideal, especially in a team of Superheroes.” I bite my thumbnail, brows pulling together. “I’m not sure how enhanced blood would even affect me. I’m not sure it’s really something I want to experiment with.”

“Sounds like college,” Tony says.

“I know you’re trying to make a joke,” I say. “But do you have any idea what happens when you mix something like me with the biological material of someone like Doctor Banner? Hell, even Steve could be a risk.”

“She’s right, Tony,” Bruce admits. “You remember my cousin Jennifer?”

“Yeah, health problems a while back, right?”

“Yeah. I was the only one who could give her blood. Now she’s the greenest lawyer in all of New York.”

“Shit.”

“Now do you understand?” I ask. “There are too many variables, and I’m already enough of a danger as is.”

“I think you’re putting a little too much pressure on yourself there, (Y/N),” Tony says. “If you were a danger to us, you would’ve bit one of us already. Your self-control, from what I’m guessing, is off the charts. When you start sneaking around and nibbling on our necks, then I’ll consider you a danger.”

“I think you’re letting inexperience cloud your judgment.”

Tony stares at me. “What’s your hangup with this?”

“What I am, at the core, is dangerous. If there’s one misstep, I could seriously hurt someone, potentially myself if it comes down to isolation.” I shake my head. “It’s not a hangup, Tony. It’s being self-aware. I’ve seen too many good people hurt when they trust a monster.”

“You’re not a monster.”

“Hah! Cute. That’s really cute. But I’m not going to debate the definition with you, because I suspect we have very different experiences with it.”

“(Y/N),” Bruce says. “I’m sure he didn’t mean-”

“Bruce, don’t. Please. Just don’t.” I look between the two of them. “Look, if it doesn’t work for me, keep going with the project. It’ll help a lot of people.”

Bruce nods and I give a tight-lipped smile before excusing myself from the lab.

I run into Steve on the way down the hall and I just barely manage to sidestep him before crashing into him.

“What’s the rush, (Y/N)?” he asks.

“Sorry,” I shake my head. “I need to go back to my room. Clear my head.”

He follows after me and places his hand on my shoulder. I turn to face him and he stoops to look me in the eye. “You okay?”

I sigh. “I’ll be very honest, Steve, I’m tired.”

He nods and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I’ll walk you back.”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t, but I’m gonna because I want to.”

“You gonna tell me why you were in such a hurry to get away from the lab?”

I crawl onto the bed and sit with my back against the wall. “It’s overwhelming.”

“The lab?” Steve sits in the reading chair in the corner. “It can be. I figured you’d be used to that kind of stuff, though.”

I shake my head. “Not the lab. Working with Tony.”

“Ah.”

“He’s just… a lot, y’know? And we butt heads like you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes it feels like we were made to contradict each other.”

“And other times?”

“Other times it’s like someone else takes over and it’s so easy to talk to him. Like there’s something there.” I wring my hands. “Scares the shit out of me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m practically immortal. I’m not… I don’t like attachments.”

“You’re attached to Buck ‘n’ I.”

“Neither of you have aged in the past eighty years. I’ve got more in common with you two than I do him.”

Steve shrugs. “Nothing’s happened yet.”

“Very true.” I frown. “Do I even want something to happen? And there’s no saying that he feels the same connection.”

“That’s right.”

“Who’s to say he’d want it anyway?” I laugh. “There I go, worrying about things that haven’t even happened yet. Not to mention things that would probably never happen to begin with.”

“It sounds like you’re talking yourself into and out of something,” Steve says.

“Better to do it now than later, right?” I let my head fall back against the wall and laugh. “Oh man, I’m fucked.”

Steve laughs. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never talked like this.”

“What, the cursing?”

“No, like you have a crush on someone.”

“Well, Steven, when we were last around each other we were also around a bunch of grimy, rank, disgusting soldiers and SSR officers who were either skirt chasers, or women who weren’t exactly my type. Not to mention we were in the middle of a literal war. There wasn’t time for this… this-” I gesture wildly. “Mess.”

“Not even after the war?”

“No, I was pretty focussed on staying alive and off the government's radar, not to even mention S.H.I.E.L.D.’s. It was hard enough getting away from the SSR after the war, after Peggy took over, it got harder.”

“So you’ve been on the run for the better part of seventy years.”

“Pretty much, yeah.” I sigh. “Pretty sure this is the most time I’ve had to relax since you went into the ice, and I’m certain that should be a joke because being here is anything but relaxing.”

Steve snorts. “All things considered, it’s been relatively quiet since we dragged you in.”

“I’ve noticed.” A knock sounds at the door and I sit forward to see who’s there. “Yeah?”

The door opens and Tony appears in the entryway.

“Hey,” he says.

“What’s up?” I ask.

Tony glances at Steve. “Could I talk to you alone?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Steve grins at me and I flip him off.

Steve laughs. “I’ll be going.”

Tony watches him go and turns back to me. “What was that about?”

“We were just talking.” I lean forward and pat the bed. “Have a seat, Stark.”

He plops down on the bed and braces himself with one arm. “So.”

“So…” I fold my arms. “You wanted to talk?”

“Right.” He sighs. “I want to apologize for what I said in the lab. It was insensitive and I wasn’t thinking.”

I blink slowly, surprised. “What?”

“I’m apologizing.”

I wave off his apology. “No, I heard that part, I just don’t get why. I was abrupt and ran away. If anything, I should be the one apologizing.”

“I brushed off your concern, (Y/N). And they were valid concerns.” He pauses for a moment. “I want to know more about what you are. I want to understand how we can help you, even if this little project doesn’t work out.”

“I… really?”

“What, you think I can’t recognize when I need to step back and learn something?”

“N-no, it’s just a lot of shocking content for one day is all. It’s a lot to process.”

“I get it,” he says. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. We can sort something out.”

“No, it’s fine.” I bite my thumbnail before looking Tony in the eye. “Where do you want to start?”

Thank you guys so much for reading! If you liked this installment, please leave a response or shoot me an ask! Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

Tag List:

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akp-1327 · 4 years ago

Text

dear diary // chapter one

Hi, everyone! This is the first chapter of the new series I’ve started. I hope you enjoy and stick around for future chapters! 💕

Find a series “description” and other detailing here!

Word Count: ~ 5.3k

(*) Warnings: none

July 16th, 2020

Dear Diary,

Nothing would make me happier than to visit the city. The bright lights, the busy streets, the shops, the smell of car exhaust. For all the wonders I’d discover, for all the opportunities I’d face. For the experience, for the fun.

Living in a small town is boring. It’s the same, day after day. Then as soon as you bat an eye, you’ve turned eighteen and have barely left the state. Some would call me a hobbit, some would call me lazy. But it’s hard to get out of town when your family can’t really leave because of their job and you’re too scared to learn how to drive.

The diner that my parents own is great; awesome pancakes, delicious milkshakes, and every single pie flavor you could ever imagine. It’s called the Golden Griddle and it’s located right in the heart of Cedar Cove, Oregon. You’d have to be blind to miss the sunny yellow paint (that’s ever so slowly chipping away, but don’t tell my dad) smeared on the bricks.

Anyway. I’m Charlotte, but you knew that already, didn’t you? Of course you did. Well, if you needed a reminder of my sob-worthy life story...my brother and I are adopted. But you probably remembered that, right? Wow, I need to stop ranting about how you probably remember me. You’re a literal book for God’s sake.

Wait; back on topic. I want to go to see the city. So badly. Oh, and have I mentioned that I got accepted into my dream school? New York University, here I come. How have I not written about that yet? Holy crap. NYU preparations have been coming along nicely. I already have half my room packed and almost all my dorm stuff that my mom insists on buying. My brother Henry, too. He’s going to Ohio State on a football scholarship and a desire to pursue athletic training. Big dreams!

Me, you ask? Good gracious, Diary, stop interrupting! (Oh boy, I’m talking to myself. Skye would laugh...). I’m pursuing acting and theater, of course. A major in drama and a minor in production. I’m chasing the sun here, okay? I am a future Broadway star and actress with dreams as far as the eye can see!

I am ecstatic to make the big move at the beginning of August. More updates to come. Sorry if this ending was abrupt. My dad made his famous chili tonight and I gotta go get it while it’s hot and before Henry inhales it all like the vacuum he is.

Yours, Charlotte :)

The faint, familiar smell of spices filled my senses as I put the old and tattered diary down. It was a gift I got years and years ago from a friend, but I never used it. May as well start before the wild ride of my new life starts, right?

I threw my blonde hair into a bun as I walked out of my room, avoiding boxes piled up high on the floor. Right as I stepped into the hallway, however, my foot met a ball of fluff curled right outside my doorway.

“Aw, Cooper,” I cooed, leaning down and scooping the little snowball I called a dog into my arms, cradling him close, “you’re missing all the food downstairs, buddy!”

A small whimper came from him as I made my way down the stairs. Henry was spread out on the couch and watching some sort of European soccer, er, football on the TV.

“Hey, just in time!” Henry smiled, waving me over to sit next to him. I obliged, setting Cooper down onto the floor and taking a seat next to him.

...It was crazy how he was twice my size. And how I was the older one by three whole minutes.

“What’s up, Henry?” I asked, nudging his arm. A laugh escaped his throat as he gestured to the screen and unpaused the video (wait, it was paused this entire time?). I watched the screen to see a player get hit in the head with a soccer ball.

“Hah!” Henry laughed, his deep pitch echoing off the walls. I gasped and swatted his arm.

“Henry! Laughing at someone else’s pain is so rude! What if he got a concussion that ended his career?” I said, a twinge of amusement in my tone. All in all, I loved to see my brother get all flustered. He was such a goody-two-shoes that even something like this comment would make him blow a gasket--

“He’s laughing, sis. I don’t think the dude’s hurt.” Henry said, his tone smug. Maybe college was finally really going to his head.

I shook my head with both surprise and disappointment as I stood up, gesturing for the walking vacuum to follow suit. “C’mon, knucklehead. Dinner’s almost ready.”

We both walked into the kitchen to see the finishing arrangements being set up for dinner; Mom was retrieving bowls and utensils as Dad strained the water from the elbow macaroni at the sink.

“You two are in here early,” Mom teased, giving us a side glare as she placed the bowls and spoons on the counter, “what about?”

A sweet, innocent smile crossed my face as I batted my eyelashes at her. “It just smells so good that I couldn’t stay away!”

“I’ve heard that one before, you jest. Come get your bowls.” Mom chuckled, stepping away. Henry and I grabbed a bowl right as Dad turned to us.

“Get it while it’s hot!” Dad said, grabbing a bowl of his own. Henry and I both dove for the noodles and chili, somehow managing to get our servings without making a complete mess like we usually do. It’s crazy to think of how people mature over time...

The old seats at the table squeaked as we all sat down and started to dig into our chili. A comfortable silence blanketed the table and just as I got used to it, Mom broke it.

“So, you two have been packing, yes? Even the stuff you aren’t bringing?” Mom asked sweetly, dabbing a napkin at the corners of her mouth. She’d always been the politest one in the family; too bad no one else at the table had her mannerisms.

“My room is basically packed except for some of my clothes and books,” I said in between chews of the (extremely hot) chili in my mouth, “but otherwise I’m good.”

Henry nodded and pointed his thumb at me, his eyes never leaving his bowl. “Mhmm.”

“That’s great! Your flights leave in only a matter of days!” Dad cheered, giving Mom a high five. It was such a weird but common thing to see parents do: act like teenagers.

“You sound excited about that?” Henry questioned. I looked over to see half his bowl already gone.

Mom heaved a sigh.

“We’re excited for you both to finally experience the world. We can’t wait for your lives to truly start!” Mom said, a smile encompassing her features. Her kind, brown eyes flitted between Henry and me.

“You two have the world at your fingertips,” Dad added, glancing at Mom. They shared a fond look.

At that moment, for the briefest second, I wished that I had a connection like that; a soulmate, someone who you could spill your heart out to. Someone who you could love and be loved by. Someone who’d want nothing more than to see you happy.

Also at that moment, I decided that I would make it a small goal of mine to make this wish come true during my time at NYU.

My blankets were soft around my legs as I sat propped up against my pillows. Leila and I had been talking on the phone all night. I felt like I was in that moment in Mean Girls where Gretchen was switching between Cady, Karen, and Regina. Except...I wasn’t switching between anyone at the moment.

Leila Maciel is my best friend. She’s someone with a sarcastic personality and a snarky remark to anything. She’s as smart as a whip and could, without a doubt, put you in your place if you stepped out of line with her intimidating strength. Though, she also has a soft and caring side that she only reveals to those who she deems trustworthy. A confident, kind, and bold girl indeed.

We’ve been friends for our entire high school careers, but it feels like I’ve known her my entire life.

During our freshman year, Leila was in an extremely toxic relationship. Her ex-girlfriend, a “sweet” but a rather manipulative girl, was to blame for our friendship. This girl, Sadie, ticked all of Leila’s boxes; beautiful, smart, compassionate, sweet...

Remember that Leila and I had only known each other for a month at this point.

Leila and Sadie’s relationship was adorable from the outside. Both bright-eyed and bushy-tailed freshmen with hearts in their eyes. It was something you’d see in a more realistic version of High School Musical because let’s be real...those movies aren’t realistic. (I still love them, though!)

About a year into their relationship, though, Sadie transformed from sweet to sour. She used Leila to get what she wanted like she was her very own puppet. Her antics ranged from cheating on tests to almost stealing a designer handbag before I intervened. Then, like the cherry on top of this extremely nasty sundae, Sadie revealed that she cheated on Leila with a college girl for the majority of their relationship. Let’s just say that their relationship was terminated seconds after that bombshell blew up.

Leila was broken for months. She truly believed that she loved Sadie, but upon further examination, I found that Leila felt guilty whenever she had the opportunity to say no. It had never been any sort of love; it was an obligation. Also after that relationship, Leila decided that instead of focusing on liking girls, she’d be open and love anyone. She was sick of limits.

So, here we are today.

Now, as we talked on the phone, I thought about how she’d also be going to NYU, majoring in business. We were roommates! It was like a dream come true.

“Uh, Charlotte?” Leila asked with a laugh. “You alive?”

Reality snapped back into place as I blinked my eyes rapidly. “Oh, uh, yeah. What’d you say?”

“Did you buy a fan for our dorm?” Leila asked monotonously. This made me laugh for some odd reason. “Dear Lord, what’s so funny?”

Honestly, though. What was funny, Charlotte? One could say that I was losing my mind.

“I don’t know, spur of the moment? But otherwise, yes; I got the one you pointed out at Target.” I said, surprising myself with how even my voice sounded. A familiar hum came from the other end of the line in response.

“Cool. Then you’re all set to go for next week?” Leila asked, her voice making it sound like she was smiling. I laughed again and nodded to myself.

“Yes!” Was all I could say.

Leila’s sigh was so loud that I could swear that I felt her breath through the phone. “You’re not stressing out over this, are you?”

My eyes widened at her question. Was I stressing out about this? I’d been packing for days on end without breaks. I had folded, re-folded, and re-re-folded all of my clothes several times in my duffel bag. I had splurged on so many things, like that fan Leila mentioned, without a second thought. I don’t think I’ve had a proper shower in almost a week; I was too busy being a nervous wreck.

“Maybe a little bit, but not too much,” I responded, my tone a bit somber as I tried to conceal my lie. My fingers twirled the fringed fabric of my tie blanket around as I waited for Leila’s retort.

“Stressing out over this is like a circle, Charlotte. It’s pointless,” Leila said, her voice starting to reveal her exhaustion, “and you need to relax. We’ll be fine.”

Thoughts buzzed through my mind as I contemplated her words. Would we be fine? Is “fine” even the correct word to describe this situation? How about rephrasing the entire statement entirely by saying “there is a chance that we’ll survive, but it definitely ain’t high.”? That version was more accurate, in all honesty. Moving across the country for school didn’t sound like a situation that could only earn the word “fine”.

“Aren’t you worried, though? A big city, a new city, a scary city...we’re diving into the deep end here, Leila! We have no idea what the hell we’re doing!” I panicked, squeezing my eyes closed.

Now it was Leila’s turn to laugh uncontrollably. Though, hers was more of a witch’s cackle.

“Wow, okay. First of all, we’ll stick together. Second, not knowing what we’re doing is all apart of the college experience. We’ll seriously be okay if we stick together.” Leila assured, still laughing - she never was the sympathetic type in these types of situations.

“If you think so, then I guess I need to believe it.” I yawned, tucking myself further into my blankets. Leila broke out into a yawn as well, making me think that she was actually tired for once (the girl was the definition of a night owl).

“We should get some sleep. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.” Leila stated. I could imagine her rolling her brown eyes at her own words. A laugh escaped me instead of the hum I intended on.

“Jesus, why do you keep laughing? Why do you have so much energy?” Leila groaned, making my laughter subside.

“I honestly don’t know, I’m a complete and utter mess. We’ll text tomorrow?” I suspired, resting my arm over my eyes to completely block out this embarrassing reality.

“You bet. Love you lots.” Leila said. Her declarations of love truly became more meaningful after that whole spectacle with Sadie. She had a ginormous heart of gold beneath that rough exterior.

“Love you more! Good night!” I said, hanging up after she murmured a farewell. I tossed my phone onto the soft fabric of my blanket and stared up at the ceiling, a nostalgic feeling washing over me. All of the nights during elementary school where I’d do this exact thing, except I would be thinking about my Barbie dolls or my recess adventures. Now, I thought about the future and what waited for me.

College better live up to its well-known reputation.

Before I could comprehend what was even happening, I was standing in the middle of Portland’s airport with the arms of my family around me.

Days legitimately whizzed past with nothing short of a greeting. I mean, it was already August 4th...somehow.

“You have all your bags, right?” Dad asked, his voice wavering the slightest bit. I looked down at my belongings for the fourth time; a large duffel bag of clothes, a chest full of dorm stuff and personal items (including that stupid fan, yes), and a very large and heavy carry-on stuffed with all of my technology. And, for the fourth time, I confirmed that I had everything.

“It’s all here, Dad. For the last time.” I giggled, shaking my head. He could only respond with his usual eye roll and grin.

“What about Leila? Are you completely positive that she’s on your flight?” Mom asked, her eyes inspecting mine. A sigh freed itself from my lungs as I nodded.

“She’s already waiting for me by the baggage area, Mom. You even saw her when we walked in, remember?” I stated, returning her inspecting gaze as she fondly smiled in remembrance.

My hands were reaching down to pick up my bags before Henry lightly punched my shoulder. “Wait, whoa, where’s the love, sis?”

“It’s hiding from you,” I teased, punching his shoulder before I pulled him close for a tight hug, “I’m gonna miss you bunches, you know.”

Henry’s grip tightened before he pulled back to show me the tears in his eyes. I gave him a sad smile, knowing that familiar look in his eye; he agreed but didn’t want to admit it.

“Don’t worry, Henry. I’ll only be a call away if you ever need to talk to me,” I said, putting my hands on his shoulders, “and I’ll be a nine hours’ drive away if you ever need me in person.”

He cracked a smile that was identical to my own and let out a deep breath that turned into a shaky laugh.

“Shut up, midget. Go catch your flight.” Henry laughed, shaking his head to compose himself. His blonde hair was tucked away in a red hat with a big, fancy ‘O’ embroidered in gray and black on its face. My heart swelled with pride to see it, too.

“Ditto!” I laughed while reaching down to grab my bags. “Well, I ought to get going. Leila’s been waiting on me for a while”

“Travel safely and call us when you land, no matter the time!” Mom said, hugging Dad and pulling Henry close. My eyes burned with tears as I nodded.

“Can do,” I shakily breathed, “I love you guys.”

Mom blew kisses my way and Dad smiled. Even Henry gave me a rare, genuine grin. I waved, and with a final glance, turned around and headed to the gate that was just behind me without looking back.

The weight of the bags in my hands doubled with each step towards Leila. She was sitting in the waiting area, her bags all around her, scrolling through her phone. Her straight black shoulder length hair was accessorized with a jade green headband, matching her comfy outfit that consisted of a matching jade green tee and a pair of workout leggings.

“Took you long enough, you slowpoke!” Leila smiled, patting the blue seat next to her as she tucked her phone in her backpack. I dropped my bags in relief as I sat down next to her. “How emotional were your parents?”

“Enough to make me almost cry?” I laughed, wiping the wetness below my eyes. “Well, maybe I did cry a little.”

Leila laughed and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “It doesn’t take much to make you cry, Charlotte. But I am beyond glad to see that you held in most of your alligator tears.”

We both laughed, though our laughter faded after about a minute, turning into a stressed silence...

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” I said while taking a deep breath. After almost a year of building up the nerves, the day was finally here. College...adulthood...life...

Leila turned to me, her eyes showing the most vulnerability that I’ve ever seen in them, and took a deep breath with me. “We may be crazy, but at least we’re crazy together.”

Bag security was a surprising breeze; little to no lines and no troubles. The security guys even smiled at me. Talk about weird.

Waiting for the flight time was tiring. I did, however, get a text from Henry saying that he’d successfully reached his gate and would be taking off for Ohio at dusk. So that was at least something to keep me occupied for a good two minutes.

Another distraction was to play matchmaker with Leila. It was our favorite pastime in high school, so why not continue the tradition?

“Ooh, that business guy over there wearing the red tie, and...” Leila trailed off, scanning the rows of seats until her eyes focused on a woman talking animatedly on the phone only a few feet away, “her.”

“Wait, the Adrian Raines-looking guy paired with that preppy woman?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. Leila hummed with approval next to me, making me cringe immediately; why, and how, would that work? They were polar opposites!

“Leila, listen. He looks like the type of guy that’d bite your head off if you gave him the wrong coffee order and she looks like the type of girl to organize a charity event. It’s all in the eyes and the cheekbones, even the eyebrows.” I explained, shaking my head. Leila, however, disagreed like she always did.

“They’d balance each other out. He’d soften up and she’d harden up. It’s that simple! Plus, it helps that they’re both very attractive...” Leila smirked, her eyes examining them both with a wistful sigh.

“And they’re probably much older than us, so don’t even get ahead of yourself.” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “But back on topic. Are you talking about the whole ‘opposites attract’ lore? Because that’s just not...plausible. Maybe it is in the movies--”

Leila let out an exasperated breath that hindered the rest of my thought. “It is plausible, though! Just think about how you would feel in this situation. Would you want a guy who has a prickly exterior and a mushy-gushy heart?”

My heart started to palpitate as my hands started to sweat. I have learned to loathe Leila’s ‘boy talk’ because it’d always turn into her setting me up with guys that were either way out of my league or guys that just didn’t meet my expectations.

Her question, though, did deserve some deep thought. I guess I can set my pride aside for a mere second and give her some sort of approbation...

So, the question on the table: did I really have a thing for those types of people? Snarky but also impossibly soft? I guess I’ve never really been invested in relationships of my own. The idea of romance, sure, but not for me. It just never really seemed as important as the ACT or my GPA. I’m starting to regret my valedictorian title; I focused so hard on my studies that I forgot about the fun aspect of high school like the average, rebellious boyfriend with a leather coat and a motorcycle.

“You know what, Leila?” I started, carefully testing this ground as to not lead her down the matchmaking rabbit hole, “I would like a guy like that. A sarcastic and snarky guy with a secret soft side? Yes, please. Oh, and glasses that he’d push up his nose when he was frustrated? Even better.”

An uncharacteristic snicker escaped Leila; she was never one to snicker like that, and now that I actually think about it, our boy talk always had that stereotypical effect on her. Man, this hobby was melting her brain. Is there any research out there on how the quietest whisper of romance can turn the human brain to goo? If so, I need to get my hands on it ASAP.

“I knew that you had a thing for that! I’ve been scoping this out for years, Charlotte!”

Of course she has.

“Glad you’ve been looking out for me. That or stalking me, but that’s up to you.” I teased, bumping my shoulder with hers only to receive a tired groan in response.

“Oh, hush. You know exactly how damn predictable you can be sometimes. Don’t even try to contradict that, either.” Leila stated, giving me a side glare. I gave her a bright, innocent smile in response as I fiddled with my duffel bag’s handles.

My mouth opened to bring up another round of matchmaker, but I was overpowered by a loud speaker.

“Flight one-hundred two for New York boarding at gate fifty-six!” A voice said gently over the speakers. Leila and I instantly looked at each other with the same anxious looks that slightly weirded me out.

“Um, Leila--” I stammered, trailing off as Leila hopped up and started to grab her things. She wore the biggest and brightest smile when she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

“C’mon, slowpoke! We gotta go! Move those short legs of yours!” Leila beamed, grabbing my duffel bag with her open hand. Before I could retort, I was ushered into standing and walking towards the luggage area.

“Alright, eager one, slow down a bit?” I asked through a huff. Only two months off of the cheer team and away from drama and I’m already bent out of shape.

Leila threw my duffel bag and her own suitcase onto the conveyor belt and so I followed suit.

This...this entire experience was moving faster than I expected.

The plane ride wasn’t really all that exciting. Just Leila falling asleep on me, like I expected. Throw in a couple packs of peanuts, a dash of watching Dirty Dancing and Grease religiously, and a sprinkle of a baby’s obnoxious tantrum...and you end up with the definition of a typical plane ride.

Woo, college. Already kicking off with such an exciting start.

We were about thirty minutes out from The Big Apple when Leila finally woke up from her sleep. I felt my shoulder lighten and then felt the instant soreness from the five and a half hour flight.

“How’d you sleep?” I asked, busying myself by pausing Dirty Dancing on its second playthrough. Of course it was right as Baby started to awkwardly dance down the staircase and onto the bridge.

Leila’s response didn’t come when I thought it would, so I looked over to see if she fell back asleep on the plane’s wall. To my surprise, I saw that her eyes were glued to a figure a few seats over.

The girl who sat there had this gorgeous auburn hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Her black headphones stood out against her pale complexion and revealed the slightest trace of taupe freckles scattered about her cheeks. Also from the girl’s side profile, you could just barely see the tint of matte black lipstick on her lips.

A gentle but teasing smile formed when I looked back over at a wide-eyed Leila, her cheeks now starting to redden with embarrassment.

“See someone you like over there?” I asked, softly nudging her arm with my own. She cleared her throat and blinked rapidly before turning her attention to me.

“I thought she was snoring?” Leila stammered, now rubbing her tired eyes. I looked back over at the girl - her head bobbing slightly to whatever she’d been playing on her laptop - and let out a laugh.

“Sorry to break it to you, Leila, but she’s completely awake.”

Leila whipped her head back around to see and then let another deep blush cover her cheeks. It was hard to notice against her olive skin, though it deepened enough to see from miles away.

“Okay, um, she was snoring a little bit ago. I swear on your life.” Leila said, pressing her hands to hide her bright red cheeks.

I let out another laugh. She had never let herself get this flustered...ever. This was so rare that I’d only ever seen it once and that was back in high school. Leila locked eyes for a solid twenty seconds with a junior guy named Michael Harrison at lunch during our freshman year. She couldn’t stop blushing or stuttering for the rest of the day, and that’s not mentioning the dejected look she had when Michael walked out of the building with an unfamiliar girl on his arm after school.

As expected, Leila only responded to me with her notorious deadly side glare.

“Shut up right this instant, Charlotte Parker.” She hissed between her gritted teeth.

Did I listen? Of course not.

“Looks like Miss Maciel has been struck by Cupid’s arrow...” I teased, dramatically leaning into her lap with my hand against my forehead. She grumbled and leaned her head on her palm, looking out the window. After I sat up, I could see her brown eyes flit over in the girl’s direction every once in a while and couldn’t hold back my smile. Not teasing, but happy.

I knew that wistful look in her eye well enough to know that she’d been enamored.

The plane landed at about seven in the evening. Before getting off the plane, I looked over to the girl. She was frantically putting her computer away in it’s decorated case. I saw a patch with the familiar NYU bobcat...right next to another patch with the name “Skye” in this sort of horror-ish calligraphy.

Huh.

“I think her name is Skye,” I said, leaning in to whisper to Leila, “and I think she’s going to NYU.”

Leila glanced over as she stuffed her neck pillow (that she never used) in her bag.

“Cool. Um...Skye, you said?” Leila said, a blush blooming across her cheeks again.

I’m seriously loving this.

“Yep, Skye. Maybe she’s a freshman like us?” I said. Leila bit her thin bottom lip.

“Maybe,” Leila said, a smirk crossing over her features, “just...maybe.”

Waiting for our luggage was so boring. I decided that it was even worse than waiting for our fight.

“Ah, it’s mine!” I heard a girl a few feet away from my tired figure cheer. She rushed forward to grab a gaudy pink suitcase bedazzled with fake gems. Leila pretended to gag next to me.

“Gross,” Leila sighed, though her eyes suddenly lit up, “hey, wait, those are our bags!”

She pointed toward a cluster of familiar bags on the conveyor.

“Ah! C’mon!” I stammered, rushing forward and grabbing them. We both started to laugh as we lugged them off.

“Jesus, this is heavier than I remember.” Leila huffed, lifting her bag onto her shoulder. I did the same, though almost toppled over because of the weight.

“Are we sure that these are ours?” I asked, unzipping the duffel bag to see my familiar coat. Relief flooded my features as I looked back at Leila.

Her face was a sickly greenish pale.

“Uh, Charlotte, this...this isn’t...” Leila stuttered, carefully shuffling through the bag. There were lots of black sweaters and lots of striped shirts. A couple pairs of ripped jeans, a few rock band tees along with an NYU sweatshirt...and a tag on the strap.

I reached out for the black tag on the strap and flipped it over. It read...

Skye...Crandall?

“Leila, remember that girl from the plane?” I asked, showing her the tag. Her face immediately fell, though I could see the flame of hope flickering in her deep brown irises.

“Oh. My. God.” Leila groaned, taking the tag into her hand. “You’re kidding. Charlotte, this seriously isn’t happening right now.”

Despite her panicked state, I laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

“I’m officially calling you Eliza Schuyler because you are helpless!” I giggled, doubling over. Leila loudly sighed.

“No, no no no...” Leila whispered, zipping the bag closed, “how are we going to find her now? I bet she left already with my bag.”

I sadly let my laughter subside as I wiped the humored tears from my eyes, being careful to not let my light layer of mascara run or smudge into a huge mess. That was the last thing I needed right now.

“Alright. Well, I think we should wait and see if your bag is still here. We don’t know for sure that she has it,” I stated, patting Leila’s shoulder, “but if it doesn’t show, we’ll track this Skye girl down and give her the right bag. Okay?”

Leila nodded, her face still contorted with a mixed emotion of annoyance and helplessness.

“Welcome to New York, where we lose your freaking bags and make you chase after freaking girls that you like,” Leila mumbled in a bad imitation of a New York accent, pinching the bridge of her slender nose.

“So you do admit it! Aww!” I cooed, booping her nose. She caught my wrist and gave me another glare, though this one was downright teasing.

“Shut it or I will mercilessly write on your face tonight with a Sharpie while you sleep,” Leila teased, “but let’s get going. We still gotta find our dorm and the sun’s already starting to set.”

I nodded and gathered up my stuff, taking another look back at the conveyor...

“Oh, everyone’s gone?” I questioned, my eyes scanning the now empty area around us. Leila rolled her eyes and started to drag me along towards the masses of people with her free hand.

“Yes, but now let’s go find this girl before I lose my mind. I need my bag and I can bet that she needs hers.”

#high school story class act #hssca #mc: charlotte parker #mc's twin: henry parker #oc: leila maciel #skye crandall #choices stories you play #no warnings #newwww au!#first chapter complete! 🥳

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shigarakis-fifth-hand · 5 years ago

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MomoJirou + TodoDeku Date!!

Requested by @turtle-deku / Ava!!

Momo ran around her dorm, doing her makeup and hair and then redoing her hair and then painting her nails last minute and then finally quitting to curl her hair instead.

“Momo, you know that we were supposed to be downstairs two minutes ago, right?”Jirou asked, looking at her girlfriend. Momo wore a maroon velvet dress and black pump heels with her hair down and curled.

Jirou, on the other hand, wore just a white tank top, black jeans, and then her Doc Martins. It was simple, but edgy as always. “I know, but everyone important will be at my fathers meeting! Endeavor and so many other pro heroes! People from modeling angencies, and all of my dad’s rich business friends.”

Momo looked at Jirou before sighing and smiling. “How do I look?” She asked, twirling as Jirou got up. “Beautiful as always.” They kissed, before Momo grabbed her purse and opened the door. As the ladies walked out, they saw the other couple coming out of their door at the exact time.

A few minutes earlier...

“Midoryia... you look fine.” Todoroki complained, standing up against the wall as Deku ran around, unfloofing and refloofing his hair like a mad man. “Shotoooo. Your entire family will be there! And All Might! And- and- all those News Reporters! I have to look good so I don’t embarrass you!”

Todoroki shook his head, smiling at his adorable boyfriend before grabbing him into a hug. “You never don’t look cute.” Todoroki kissed his forehead before grabbing his wallet, Izuku’s hand, and then walking out.

The two couples saw each other, and smiled. “How are we doing kiddos?” Jirou ruffled Midoryia’s hair as Momo fixed his tie. “You look stunning little broccoli.” Momo giggled, turning to Shoto. “You nervous?” she asked, smiling sadly at her red-and-white-haired friend. “Of course not. It’s only that I’ll be sitting with my father, boyfriend, and a bunch of reporters asking me questions and watching my every move.”

Izuku smiled, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand. “You’ll be okay Shoto. You both will be.” Izuku reassured him and the raven-haired girl.

“Exactly! You two were raised for this kind of stuff! All you have to do is act natural and you’ll meet your parent’s expectations perfectly.” Jirou smiled, raising her fist in the air as Momo laughed nervously, fidgeting with her phone.

“I hope you’re right.” She tried to smile, but the mix of her teeth chattering and her cheeks blushing made her look like a total mess, even if she had makeup and a fancy dress on. “I think we should head to the movie. Maybe you can pull yourself together in the car. We’ll have a short 15 minutes to prepare.”

Shoto suggested as the group nodded, grabbing the hand of their partner and heading out to the limo. Passing Denki and Mina binging on the hot Cheetos, and Bakugo giving them a suspicious glare, they walked into the long, black limo that awaited them.

Shoto got the window seat, then Deku, then Jirou, and then Momo lastly, closing the car door behind her. Yet Shoto was incorrect, the 15 minutes were not short. Momo and Jirou went over the right away to hold things, how to speak to her dad’s friends, and how to walk in the heels without kicking her feet up whenever she felt uncalmly.

Shoto on the other hand spent the time burying his face into Izuku’s neck, kissing his lips, and wishing he could hide away from the world with his little ‘Zuki. He knew he couldn't kiss Deku’s neck though, as it was covered in foundation to hide the hickeys from last night when Deku had comforted Todoroki’s anxiety through passionate... hugging.

“You’ll be okay Baby... You’re going to do great. I love you no matter what, and you don’t need to act any different around these people. They’re trying to impress you, the father of the number one hero. You don’t need to act any different.” Izuku whispered into his boyfriend’s ear, calming him while giving an amazing scalp massage.

As Shoto met Izuku’s eye contact, he instantly melted in his fingers and realized how much he loved Izuku.

“Now, here’s the deal. There will be reporters here so we must stick to the strict list of things we can talk about dealing with UA that Aizawa gave us, and we must make sure to talk as much about each other as possible. Talking about ourselves will come off as self-centered, but we should promote each other to the public. We don’t want a bad reputation as people.”

Momo explained as Jirou giggled, kissing her girlfriend on the cheek to shut her up. “That’ll keep you quiet for a second. Don’t worry guys, it’s not that hard. Momo has been teaching me how to do this fancy stuff for days, and honestly, it’s common knowledge. Follow my league.” She winked at Deku before looking at a nervous-looking Todoroki. Reporters... oh god. Todoroki had a sudden flashback that brought him pain to think of.

“Now, tell me young man, what do you want to do with your life? Your father says you will follow in his footsteps and eventually become the number one hero. Is this true?” The hot, male reporter asked him, shoving a microphone in his blushed face. The lights were blinding and made him hot, and the cute guy in front of him was making him go insane. “Damn.” He blurted out, looking him up and down before staring at the camera in shock from his own words. “Haha, thank you. I can only guess that you are apart of the LGBT community as well. Do you pro-”

The rest of the reporter’s words were blurred as Shoto saw his father from a far, staring bullets at him. He had just revealed his sexuality to the world, and could only be left to get more sweaty and embarrassed before being able to leave the reporter and cameraman behind. For weeks, magazines were filled with information about Shoto’s words, what his sexual orientation could possibly be, and who is possible love interests could be.

It took a week before Izuku could drag him out of the depression he fell into, and that was by kissing him.

It was accurate that Shoto wasn’t good with reporters, and Izuku knew that too. In interviews, Shoto had called his father a bastard, had mispronounced his own name, and had once had said that he didn’t want friends in UA. “You’re going to be find Shoto. If anything happens, I’ll be right there to steal the show from you.” Shoto smiled, pinching his boyfriend’s cheek.

“Oh goodness, we’re here!” Momo opened the car door and stepped out, everyone grabbing their partner’s hand and being met by a hundred different camera flashes, all of them blinding the poor teens. Momo grabbed Jirou and pulled her inside the building, running even in heels. Todoroki, instead, grabbed Izuku, holding him by his side and placing his hand in front of Izuku’s eyes, saving him from being blinded.

“No comment... no comment...” Todoroki murmured, walking as this was normal for being the 1# hero’s son and a UA student himself. Holding Izuku tightly by the waist, he could only hope that a photo of them would be on the cover of at least one magazine.

How cute... Once they got inside, Todoroki was happily relived to see that although the inside was much more extravagant and extra, there were only few reporters and their camera men walking around the place. It was a large room with a large staircase in the middle, and a bunch of rooms and hallways off the sides. “You okay Midoryia?”

Shoto asked as his small boyfriend nodded, blushing and smiling in response. Todoroki sighed... kissing him on the cheek before going to join the girls, gripping Izuku’s hand tightly. “Lovely... Now remember the rules, we must bow from the waist only, smile only a little bit, and our hair must stay nice to entire time.” Momo turned and grabbed four glasses filled with sparkling water, dispersing them among her friends.

“Lovely, now remember how I told you. Three fingers on one side, two on the other. And you hold it about lower-chest level so-” Momo’s lecture was interrupted by a reporter and her camera man stepping into the conversation.

“Ahh, it’s the UA students everyone is so eager to meet! Hello, I’m Sasha from Channel News 4, and right now we are at the Conventional Meeting for the Yayorozu Hero Agency and all of it’s special guests, including pro hero All Might, Endeavor, and the hero in training Kyoka Jirou, Izuku Midoryia, Shoto Todoroki, and Momo Yayorozu. Tell me, as young adults, how did you and your friends prepare for such a prestigious event Shoto?”

The reporter shoved her microphone into Shoto’s face, catching him off guard. Below the smile, Izuku could see that she was hoping Todoroki would say something dramatic and to be on the headlines of their magazines. He had to help his boyfriend. “Shoto lost his voice, so if you wouldn’t mind I’ll speak for him.” Izuku smiled as the news reporter happily moved the microphone to in front of him.

“Personally, I’ve spent the past few days trying to help Shoto de-stress because after all, he’s Shoto Todoroki. He shouldn’t have to worry about the people here.” Deku smiled, happy with his response as the reporter smirked.

“Does that mean that you and Shoto believe that he is equal or better than the famous faces we are seeing here today?” She asked as Deku began laughing, catching everyone off guard.

“You’re so funny Sasha! I know that myself and my friends have been fangirling over all of this ever since we heard about it. With people like All Might and Endeavor here, it is very hard to feel at ease here. After all, we are just training to become what they already are, am I wrong?”

Shoto had to think over everything, and comprehend how his boyfriend was so well in front of a camera, even tricking the reporter who only wanted drama, gossip, and for life to turn into a reality tv show. “Anyways, we must go. Nice talking to you.” Momo grabbed everyone by the arm and pulled them away, leaving the news crew in the dust.

“Wait! We have to ask about your sexual orientation, and your views on black lives matter!” She yelled out, but was left with no answer. While Jirou and Momo went off to get food off a platter, Shoto stayed with Izuku and smiled. Grabbing both of his hands, he smiled happily. Such a happy, pure smile. “Thank you ‘Zuki. Thank you so much.” Todoroki would have said more, but the sight of his father coming from across the room behind Izuku stopped him.

Deku turned around to see Endeavor, swallowing nervously but calming his nerves as he began to think. This was simply Todoroki’s dad, nothing more. Not the pro hero who could burn his face off then and there, but a human being who had brought the love of his life to the world. “Shoto... Midoryia.” Shoto saw his old man’s eyes drift at the two of them holding hands, and the look he was giving was unreadable.

While on the other side of the room, Momo and Jirou were having a party of their own. Basically gossiping about the boys in their class and what Aizawa had been doing lately with All Might, they found his girly laughs and the way he whispered secrets that he knew from their teenage years to then absolutely lovable.

“I know! Like, doesn’t Nezu care that he sleeps half of class? Iida teaches more than he does!” Jirou laughed out loud as All Might snorted out his drink. “Dang, I miss being one of the girls.” All Might giggled like a small girl, causing the two to snort their own sparkling.

“When you’re done with the childs play, I would like to introduce you to someone Momo. Daughter, this is Ria Terrasu. She runs the modeling agency downtown for young, aspiring, female heroes.” Momo’s father introduced the blue-haired, older woman to her.

“Yes, what your father said. We believe that since female pro heroes are so far and in between, we use our company to get their name out there! Our agency gives you a chance to do commercials with other pros, build your brand, and really find your own place in our society. We also are known for having our... pro lgbtq campaign going on.” Momo and Jirou made eye contact, their eyes sparkling and their hearts smiling. “That’s wonderful! Where do I sign?” Momo exclaimed jokingly, smiling ear to ear as the old woman giggled.

“I knew you’d like that. All I ask for now is that you think about it. Of course, you’d only be able to do weekends and we would work 9 to 3 on Saturday and Sundays.” She explained as Momo began having second thoughts. Was she truly prepared to add another thing to her to-do list, when she was already a full time student, training to become a pro hero, and starting what seemed to be a perfect relationship with Jirou. “I’ll... I’ll think about it. Thank you Miss, really.” Momo stepped away, looking at Jirou with a sad look in her eyes.

“W-what's wrong boo? I thought you loved the idea of that! Imagine how much fun you’d have being a model!” Jirou exclaimed as Momo smiled sadly. “Yes, but imagine all the fun we have on the weekends. I’d be missing out on all of that with you. Every hour without you is torture, so why would I sign myself up to do more?” Momo asked as Jirou blushed, kissing Momo softly. “You’re cute. Good job. Let’s go get Deku, we can cry and kiss later.” Jirou winked as Momo blushed even more, beginning to begin another conversation with All Might and make him “one of the girls” again.

While on the other side of the room, Endeavor put his hand out and tried his best to do what appeared to be a small smile. “Pleased to see you again.” He murmured as Deku quickly shook it, happy to see him trying. Shoto, on the other hand, was not thoroughly convinced.

“Same for you sir. Have you been harassed by reporters today? We were just confronted by one, and man are they crazy!” Deku began to make conversation with the pro hero like it was nothing, even getting a shocked expression from Endeavor in return that he didn’t notice. Finally, this is my chance to show Shoto what I think of his relationship. “Ahh, I went through the same thing when I came in. It’s as if they’ve never heard of personal space.” Shoto’s eyes widened at the fact that his old man had made a joke to his boyfriend.

“I agree sir. As if they can interview us, we then aren’t allowed to have our personal bubble.” Deku smiled, treating this as another conversation. Endeavor was talking to him, and not being snobbish or rude! What an accomplishment! “What a correct way to put it. I do not know why or how they are in here, but personally, I’ve already requested them to be removed. It’s already enough that we get blinded when we walk from the car to in here. Now that you’re here, I can’t help but as-”

Before Endeavor could finish, Momo ran to Deku, pulling him aside. “All Might is asking for you! Come on Izu!” She pulled him away, leaving Shoto and his father alone. “What is the deal with All Might? Goodness... I do not understand the obsession with him, especially after his retirement.” Endeavor murmured as Shoto shook his head, smiling sadly. “All Might is the closest thing Midoryia has to a father. I recommend you get used to seeing him.” Todoroki walked away, going to join his friends at the circular table in the banquet hall with everyone else. So I must talk to All Might as well to become familiar with this boy? Man, why can’t this be easy?

Endeavor followed his son to the table to sit down between Shoto and one of Mr. Yayorozu’s business partners. The seating chart had Endeavor, Shoto, Deku, All Might, Momo’s mother, Jirou, Momo, Momo’s father, and then one of the business partners to the Yayorozu hero agency. “Ahh, Endeavor. Nice seeing you after so long.” All Might greeted Endeavor as he swallowed his pride, agreeing with himself that he would try and change as a father, as a father-in-law as well. “Agree.” He did that thing where he was trying to smile, but it just looked awkward.

Thankfully, before the conversation could become awkward, the spokesperson walked onto the stage, speaking into the microphone. “Hello? Hello everyone. Thank you for joining me for the 81st Yayorozu Hero Agency Convention. To start us off, the owners of this establishment would like to ask All Might, who has so recently retired after giving us a safe way of life for so many years, to come give a speech. Everyone, a round of applause?” All Might blushed, smiling and going up to the stage.

“T-thank you everyone, really. Goodness, this is unexpected. I would like to start off by saying-” At that moment, Deku looked to hear something beeping under the stage. “All Might! Watch out!” Using the power in his legs, he shot out of his seat, wrapped his arms around All Might, and pushed him off the stage into the corner just as an explosion erupted onto the stage. “Young Midoryia! You just saved my life!” All Might yelled as Izuku looked up to see the room being filled with explosions, causing all of the people inside to rush out of the room in a frazzled, panicked state.

“Someone is behind all of this, and they’re targeting the pro heroes here. All Might, you need to get out of here!” Izuku exclaimed, picking up his mentor and beginning to walk him out. “Midoryia, I can help him by making a shield of ice! You go and find out who’s causing this! They cannot be far from here!” Shoto instructed as Deku nodded, leaving the banquet hall and entering the main room to find it on fire, large chunks of the ceiling and floor missing. “Deku! We need to stop whoever is doing all of these! They’re only going off whenever someone is getting close to them, so someone must be watching!” Jirou exclaimed, picking up wounded people and beginning to carry them.

“Quick! Deku, rush up to the security office! It’s on the third floor, and it says Security on the door!” Momo instructed, creating a small bed with wheels and placing the hurt on them.

Without hesitation, Deku rushed up the flights of stairs and then another until he was on the third floor. Slowly, he began to walk into the office, looking behind the wall to see that a person was sitting at the computer. “Super power charge!” Deku shot out from behind the corner, only to be met by nothing. “Did you not think I couldn’t see you coming through the cameras? You have a lot to learn Izuku!” The villain Toga jumped up, getting out her knife and running at him.

“Oh no you don’t!” Deku yelled, using his quirk to jump onto the wall and then kick her from behind, pinning her to the ground and knocking her unconscious. Rushing to the computer, he looked around to find where the next bomb was going to go off. Checking the sticky note Toga had written next to the screen, he read 6:15, Floor 3 Left Wing Hallway. Looking at the watch to read 3:14, and then at the screen to see Endeavor walking there, Izuku began to panic. But luckily, Deku worked the best under pressure. Running out of the room and running into Endeavor, he grabbed his arm and used 12% of his quirk to swing Endeavor to the other side of the hallway.

“Wha- Midoryia!” Endeavor yelled as he hit the ground, before looking towards Izuku to see a bomb going off right under his feet. Deku got launched from his feet, and then slammed into the ceiling, only to fall back to the first floor once the floor beneath him quickly crumbled away. “Oh my god!” Endeavor yelled, running to the unconscious boy before the realization hit him. Deku had just saved Endeavor’, putting himself at risk in the process. Half of Izuku’s arm looked burnt to a crisp, and his leg looked to be twisted incorrectly. “Doctor! Someone, we need a doctor!”

Endeavor yelled out, surprised to be met by a paramedic, Shoto slowly following behind. “Oh god, Dad! What happened to him?!” Shoto nervously ran to Deku’s side, examining him with his tear-filled eyes. “He saved me son... threw me out of the way before a bomb could hurt me. Luckily, he wasn’t directly under the bomb like I had been, and only got slightly grazed by it.” He explained, feeling nervous himself. Had this poor boy really saved him, when he was a pro hero himself and was hated by the public? What was his deal?

The next time Izuku opened his eyes, he was in a hospital surrounded by Momo and Jirou sleeping with each other on the small pull-out couch, and Shoto sitting on the spinning chair. “Oh god, you’re awake.” Todoroki smiled, running to Izuku’s side. “Glad to see you’re okay Zuki.” He blushed, before the door opened behind him to reveal his father. “I think we all are.” He held a balloon that looked pitiful next to his large size, and flowers that looked expensive. “Dad?” Todoroki asked, shocked to see his father standing before his eyes. “Shoto, come out in the hall with me.” His father instructed, leaving the things on the table and leaving out the door.

Shoto kissed Deku’s cheek before following him, shutting the door behind him. “Son, I must ask you something important, and I want the honest answer.” Endeavor asked as Shoto’s eyes widened at the sudden use of “son”. “I need to know if all of this is true. Are you sure you’re gay? Are you sure that you want to date All Might’s successor? ... Are you in love with Izuku Midoryia?” Endeavor asked, turning to face Shoto who stood there, leaning against the door with a surprised conversation. “I don’t see why you need to know any of t-”.

“Because how am I supposed to change if I don’t know a single thing about you?! How can I become a good father for you if I don’t even know you? Why don’t I know you Shoto?...” Shoto could have swore that he saw a single tear being shed from his father’s eyes. “Why did you come out to the whole world before me? Do you realize how much of a failure that makes me?” Todoroki was right. Endeavor was crying before his very eyes.

“Why can’t I just be a terrible guy? Why must I wake up and realize my terrible actions after I’ve done them? Oh Shoto...” Endeavor put his hand on Shoto’s shoulder, pressing firmly on him. “I will be someone who you can be happy to call your father. I’m not asking for you to forget, but I am asking for a chance to prove myself to you, to your siblings... to the world.” Shoto shed a tear before putting his hand out, recreating the same gesture that Endeavor had done to Deku.

“One more chance old man, but only because I want this to work just as much as you do.” Todoroki confessed, before hearing yells inside the hospital room. Running inside, he was met by the sight of Momo and Jirou screeching happily, jumping up and down. “W-what happened? What’s going on?” Shoto demanded, seeing that Izuku was overjoyed as well. “The modeling agency called me! They want us both!” Jirou yelled, throwing her phone to the couch before kissing her girlfriend. “Hmm, I guess that banquet was the best thing for all of us.” Endeavor murmured below his breath.

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ikevampeventarchive · 5 years ago

Text

[ERS] Tonight, Upon Love’s Stage - Dazai & Arthur

Route Preview:

Upon a brightly lit stage, a romantic drama suddenly begins… —

(Arthur and Dazai acting together…I can’t imagine it at all!)

Together with Arthur and Dazai, we act out “The Little Red Riding Hood” that Shakespeare entrusted with us.

[This is an unofficial work based on fan-translation. Copyright belongs to Cybird.]

Warning: Spoilers Underneath.

Route Summary:

Common Route

Shakespeare: Arthur and Dazai, huh… Unexpectedly, I think this will be quite interesting indeed. Though it’ll be difficult, won’t you grace my stage with the two of them?

Arthur: …Huh?

Dazai: My, is that really okay?

Shakespeare told Arthur, Dazai, and MC that though the original cast he had in mind for the Little Red Riding Hood was Leo and Comte, he changed his mind and wants Arthur and Dazai to play it instead.

On the day of the rehearsal, the trio, together with Shakespeare encountered a group of “Will-sensei’s fanclub” who looked forward to seeing Shakespeare’s new stage play. However, 4 different women also wanted to play the role of Red Riding Hood, and now there are 5 Red Riding Hood’s who would all appear in one scene each.

Arthur: This isn't double casting or triple casting... What do we even call this now?

MC was given the role of Red Riding Hood #5 and is to appear in the very last scene at grandmother’s house. Dazai is the wolf, and Arthur is the hunter. However, during the rehearsal, Arthur entered the scene too early and ignored the script because he was jealous Dazai touching MC.

Shakespeare: Arthur. Please don't change my play.

The day of the performance finally comes, and everything has been proceeding smoothly without any unforeseen difficulties.

MC was beside the stage, nervously waiting to play her part as she watches Arthur and Dazai perform together. She notes how their performance is entrancing and focuses on the two of them.

At the same time, one of the actresses who stood behind MC was relieved that she had finished performing her part. In her relaxed state, she accidentally collided into MC and pushed her onto the stage while Dazai and Arthur were still acting out their scene.

—

Dazai End:

The moment you touch his heart, a new love story begins...

“What a naughty Red Riding Hood you are. I suppose I'll have to teach you that men are truly wolves.”

—

Shock overwhelms MC when she finally registers the fact that she was now standing on the stage out of her cue. While she was trying to process what to do in this situation, Dazai suddenly spoke up.

Dazai: Why did you come out…. Red Riding Hood?

Dazai: My beloved, you could’ve ran away alone—

MC: !?

Dazai pulled MC toward him... and turned the scene into a love scene between the wolf and Red Riding Hood.

Arthur: Don't tell me… the Little Red Riding Hood is... actually a werewolf like you!?

MC: (The Little Red Riding Hood is a werewolf?)

Finally catching on that Dazai is trying to ad lib the scene into one where the Red Riding Hood is actually a werewolf and the wolf's lover, MC proceed to continue the ad lib as well.

After a few sentences of ad lib later, Dazai, the wolf, eloped with MC, his Red Riding Hood werewolf lover, off the stage to escape from Arthur, the hunter.

The audience applauds and no one realized that whole ending act was made up on the spot.

Later that evening at the after party, MC and the actress who accidentally collided into her apologized to Shakespeare for the slip up and the change. Shakespeare told them it is normal for such happenings to occur during a stage performance.

Shakespeare: All's well that ends well.

Shakespeare proceeds to thank Dazai for the nice save with his ad lib and Arthur praised MC for the ad lib on her part as well. MC told Arthur she was able to say all that because her performing partners were him and Dazai.

That night back at the mansion… MC visited Dazai's room and knocked on his door.

Dazai: Oh? If it isn't Toshiko-san. What's the matter?

MC told Dazai she came to express her words of gratitude to him for all the help earlier today. Dazai took note of it and asked her if she would like to have Japanese tea with him inside his room since she's already here anyway.

MC: Is that alright? Then I'll have a glass.

After telling Dazai she accepts his offer, MC entered his room. Dazai poured MC a glass of tea and MC told him it's delicious. She thanks him for the tea and once again, for the help with the ad libbed scene.

Dazai: Actually… I've been thinking… If I write out Red Riding Hood, what kind of Red Riding Hood would she be? Perhaps an adorable werewolf…

Dazai told MC how when he acted out that scene he was imagining out what his Red Riding Hood would be so that was how it turned out.

Dazai: In any case— I feel like I actually became a werewolf.

MC: —!

Dazai suddenly pulled MC into a hug.

Dazai: To be entering a man's room this late in the night… what a naughty Red Riding Hood you are. I suppose I'll have to teach you that men are truly wolves.

MC: —...

Dazai: ………Oh? This time you're not ad libbing back?

MC: (That just now… was it an act?)

MC: P-please stop teasing me…

Dazai: Ahaha, sorry about that. By the way it seems you finished your tea. About time you head back, no? Good night, Mitsuko-san.

Dazai see MC out his room and closed the door.

Now in the hallway alone, MC thought back to what had happened just now in Dazai's room and how his eyes didn't seem like his usual joking self. MC wondered what would have happened if she had remained in the room, and hugged herself tightly.

—

Arthur End:

Something outside the norm — his new expression sends your heart into disarray...

“Won’t you give the Huntsman that saved the Little Red Riding Hood a little reward…?”

—

As she stumbles onto the stage, MC flounders, her mind going blank at the abrupt accident. She looks over to Arthur, who suddenly has an epiphany and rushes over to MC, hugging her and exclaiming that he’s glad that Ms. Little Red Riding Hood is still alive.

MC realizes that Arthur is covering her face by doing this, and Arthur follows up with an accusation to Dazai that he isn’t actually a wolf that devours people. Dazai plays along and wonders what Arthur might be talking about, while MC is confused as to what they’re planning by ad libbing.

Arthur launches into full on deductive reasoning, stating that wherever the wolf has appeared, people have gone missing, but no corpses were left behind. In spreading the rumor that a werewolf has appeared, Dazai has been using the ensuing chaos as cover to kidnap young women and spirit them away. His cover blown, Dazai smiles, MC describing it as a sinister smile that raises goosebumps on her skin.

Dazai: That’s right. However, it’s far too much of a waste to just eat them. All those girls — I’ve sold them all off as slaves by now.

MC is surprised that Dazai managed to turn a werewolf into a human trafficker and still make the play work. Arthur tells Dazai that he can tell the rest of his tale in jail, to which Dazai flippantly replies that Arthur can do as he likes, and exits the stage as the lights go down.

Then as the lights come back up again on Arthur and MC, MC thinks to herself that since everyone has tried their best up until now, she will also play along with the adlib and bring everything to a successful close.

MC: I ran away from the Wolf with all my might. Mr. Hunter, all those children who have disappeared up until now are still alive. Perhaps your sister too…?

She feels her voice going high from the nerves, but MC manages to deliver the lines. Arthur’s eyes widen with shock for a moment, before he then raises his hand with a gentle smile.

Arthur: You’re right. Perhaps, like you said, my younger sister might still be out there, somewhere… Won’t you come search with me, Little Red Riding Hood?

MC: Of course!

She places her hand in his and the audience gives the two of them a standing ovation. With such an atmosphere of hope, the curtain slowly descends upon the stage — .

—

Following the performance, Shakespeare speaks to the two of them, saying that everyone thought the play was very well done, with the female cast members think that Arthur’s wonderful “Huntsman” was cool like Holmes.

MC notes that it seems like Shakespeare is prodding at Arthur a bit, but Arthur pays no mind, instead grinning in delight. He quotes Holmes, saying that those who learn to adapt and overcome are the ones who will succeed. He then proceeds to cheer on the rest of the cast members, saying that they can continue to try their best now that they’ve had this accident and the chance to learn from it. At his encouragement, the female cast members blush, and MC thinks to herself how Arthur both saved her and now cheered on the cast, much like everyone’s hero.

A bitter feelings spreads in her chest at the thought of Arthur being everyone’s hero, but she pushes it away and pretends to be unaffected.

Later once they return to the mansion and to Arthur’s room, they sit on Arthur’s bed and he flops over onto her knee, looking up at MC like he wants to be praised.

Arthur: Ah — I’m tired.

MC: Haha, you worked hard today. Seriously, thanks for all your hard work today.

She smiles down at him, and Arthur lifts a hand to settle it against her cheek.

Arthur: MC, the play is over now… You don’t have to pretend to smile anymore.

He says that he noticed MC making a strange face earlier, and was concerned. MC is surprised that Arthur noticed such a thing, and thinks to herself that nothing ever escapes him. However, there was also a part of her that was surprisingly happy that he had taken notice. As his fingers gently caresses her cheek, MC starts to speak.

MC: The play today… it went off without a hitch due to Arthur’s help, and everyone was so happy. I should’ve been happy as well, but… when I saw you being surrounded by girls, somehow… The feeling that Arthur wasn’t mine alone… that you were everyone’s hero… well, I think I got a little lonely.

MC: Sorry, Arthur, I got jealous at a strange time.

Arthur: Jealous — you got jealous. Over me, of all things…

Arthur quickly flips the two of them over, straddling MC as he promises to show her how much the Huntsman was concerned about Little Red Riding Hood.

Arthur: So… won’t you give the Huntsman that saved you a little reward…?

He begins to press bites all over her skin, and Arthur proves that his devotion to MC for the rest of the night.

Note: This is where the paid Epilogue starts.

—

Event Info Post | Shakespeare & Vincent Route | Comte & Leonardo Route

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #story event #dazai #arthur #event route summary #jp ikevamp #tonight upon love's stage

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 6 years ago

Text

Best. Date. Ever.

Summary: This wasn’t quite what you had in mind.

Characters: Bucky x Reader Warnings: Bad language. A smidgen of murder. A splash of fluff.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @abovethesmokestacks ‘s summer challenge, and I’m a slacker who’s a week late, so thank goodness Pia’s amazing! This story came about because I was seriously coveting these shoes and because Pia gave me a super cheeky dialogue prompt, which you’ll find bolded in the story. Enjoy!

A/N 2: Check out Best. Proposal. Ever. to read more of these two!

If you want on or off the tag list, send me an ask!

MASTERLIST

Dress up, he ordered. Something fancy and sexy. I got a plan.

It sounded promising. A night at the ballet perhaps, or tickets to the opera. Dinner and dancing, maybe. Something classy. Something elegant.

After eyeing them in the window, you decide to buy that pair of outrageously expensive Jimmy Choo’s for the evening, anticipating something spectacular.

Well.

It was something alright.

*****

Black satin clutch tucked tight beneath your arm.

Quiet steps on the balls on your feet.

Gun drawn, cocked and aimed, you tiptoe down the dim hallway, keeping to the shadows, avoiding the puddles of yellow light spilling from vintage sconces lining the wall.

The target looms ahead, a heavy black door at the end of the corridor and a steady stream of quiet curses slips from clenched teeth as you move, damning his dumb ass to hell and back.

Eyeing the narrow beam of light lining the bottom of the door, you pause when muffled laughter slips beneath the crack. Momentarily confused, you wonder if you have the wrong room.

Nope.

“Answer the fucking question,” a frustrated voice suddenly shouts, followed by the dull thunk of metal slapping skin. Bucky’s responding groan is long and low, a guttural sound ripped from deep in his chest.

It sounds desperate.

It sounds wounded.

It sounds – excessively theatrical.

Of course.

Is it possible to roll your eyes so hard you see your brain?

Leaning into the door, you press an ear to the thick ebony wood. There’s a hum of unintelligible muttering and then plain as day, you hear Bucky’s cheerful response.

“Yeah, no. Feels like you’re hard of hearing there, big boy. You wanna hand me that knife? Let me clean out your ears real nice and careful like? Or maybe you were that stupid kid sitting too close to the TV growing up, watching cartoons while your Mommy was running around banging the mailma – ow! Fucking ouch god dammit, what the hell’s the matter with you?! Who the hell stabs someone? That fucking hurt!”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh.

Here’s the thing.

Now and then, the avenging gets slow. It happens occasionally, not often, but enough for you to discover an interesting personality twist. When the avenging gets slow, Bucky Barnes gets bored. And a bored Bucky Barnes is – concerning. Full of pent up energy, leaking sarcasm and sass, he has a small tendency to find trouble.

It’s not trouble, it’s called saving the world, he always argues.

It’s not saving the world, it’s called gratuitous chaos, you always respond.

The voice comes back, full of fury. Electricity pops and sizzles and suddenly Bucky swears at the top of his lungs.

“Wait, wait, wait, stop! Damn, fine, fine. You got me, just stop, please, I’ll talk, I’ll talk, let’s talk…about the fact that your mom was totally fucking the mailman, I mean come on – “

The sound of electricity buzzes louder and he howls in pain.

“Say it again,” you hear the voice snarl, followed by Bucky’s breathless reply.

“No joke man, you touch me with that thing again, I’ll shove it so far up your ass you’ll shit sparks for a week.”

In addition to the whole trouble thing? He’s also a massive drama queen.

“This is bullshit, Bucky” you hiss at the door, glancing at the absurdly expensive heels and reaching to brush dust from the toe. “I’m so fucking pissed at you.”

Seriously.

Clutching the gun tight, you carefully turn the knob and with a deep breath, hip check it open. And yep. The reveal is exactly what you could have anticipated, because you know Bucky Barnes way, way too well.

Dangling by his hands from a wide steel beam, his wrists encased in what appears to be a reinforced cuff, Bucky swings gently, the toes of his black boots barely brushing the ground. His faded grey t-shirt is slashed down one side, soaked through with thick splotches of blood and clinging to his body like a second skin. Twitching his head to shake away sweaty strands of dark hair, you see the impressive array of purple bruises painting his face, extending down his neck.

He looks terrible. Awful. A beaten man in terrible pain.

Except –

The anguished grimace fades when he sees you, morphing into a shit-eating grin. Wiggling his fingers in a mocking little hello, he gives you a wink.

What an ass.

Hearing the swinging door, the man in front of Bucky spins, raising a gun in one hand and a taser snapping lime green sparks in the other. Frustration is etched in every line of his face, which is, to be fair, a common expression for anyone talking to Bucky.

“Drop the gun,” he bellows, shaky hands holding both weapons in front and sounding for all the world like a two-bit security cop in a low-budget heist film.

Throwing him an impressively impatient scowl, you shake your head.

“Listen, I’ve had a long day and these heels are killing me and I just wanted to spend one night without worrying how I’m getting blood out of my clothes in the morning. So since that fantasy’s shot to shit, can you please just not?”

“Don’t try to distract me!” he yells in response. “Drop your gun or I’ll shoot you both!”

Looking past him, you meet Bucky’s wide-eyed, innocent blue eyes.

Innocent blue eyes. Seriously. What a crock.

“I’m fucking pissed at you,” you warn Bucky, pointing the gun down at your shoes. “These were expensive.”

He pokes his lip out in an exaggerated pout and swings himself playfully in the restraints. “Don’t be mad honey baby, it’s all part of the plan.”

“Jesus. I shudder to think what else you have planned.”

The guy follows the exchange like a tennis match, head swiveling in confusion, until he focuses on you again and opens his mouth to shout another disappointingly dull threat, but you hold your hand up to silence him and he looks unbelievably put out by the gesture.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood, alright? I gave you a chance.”

Flicking your eyes to the bloody, sweaty man dangling behind him, you cross your arms and wait.

Here it comes.

Vengeance fills his features, a blinding smile of murdery glee, and in the blink of an eye, Bucky curls his knees to his chest and hoists himself up with the metal arm. With a casual kick, he hooks his thighs around the man’s neck and squeezes tight.

Dropping both weapons, the man scrabbles at the dirty legs locked around his neck, panic flashing through his face.

“You sir,” Bucky states, as the man chokes, trying to wrench free, “are a real dick.”

With a graceful twist of his hips, he snaps the neck with a jarring crunch. The body collapses in a heap and Bucky glares contemptuously for a second and then proceeds to aim several childish kicks at the head, but his toes are just out of reach and he flails uselessly in the air.

He looks up in annoyance.

“Hi. Little fucking help here please?”

Stepping over the body, you rummage through the pile of electronic gadgets and random torture devices strewn across the table. Locating a small purple device attached to a SpongeBob keychain, you dangle it in front of him.

“Apology first.”

“No worries, I accept your apology,” Bucky says graciously. “Now get me down.”

“No asshole, I want an apology. You said dress up and now my Jimmy Choo’s have blood on them.”

“Okay fine, I’m sorry.” Skeptical of his quick submission, you punch the unlock button slowly and the cuff releases. Bucky drops to his feet, rubs the red chaffing around his wrist, and gives you a wide smile. “I’m sorry you’re a wet blanket who doesn’t appreciate fun, but anyway.”

He anticipates the move and ducks when you snatch a knife from the table and fling it at him, letting it smack harmlessly against the concrete wall behind him.

“I swear to god, you’re lucky you’re hot Barnes. It sure as hell’s not your personality that keeps me around.”

“The hell do you mean? I’m charming as fuck,” he argues. Wetting his busted lips, he uses the collar of his shirt to wipe away the pool of blood caked in the corner of his mouth, while interested eyes trail down your outfit.

Strapless black silk dress falling to your knees. Diamonds dangling from your ears. Bright red lips. Black Jimmy Choo heels with a flirty little feather on the side.

His smile turns a shade darker and ten shades filthier.

“You look smokin’ hot. Nice.”

“And it’s apparently a waste. When you said dress up, I sort of assumed we’d be doing an activity other than murder.” Tossing the keychain on the table, you come closer to scan his impressive mess of injuries. Probing the thick muscle below his ribcage, he sucks in a strangled breath as your fingers brush the source of blood still soaking his shirt.

“Buck – “ you start, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t baby me, I’m fine. Me and that bag of dicks just had a little disagreement over one of his brainless questions.”

“How did he go from asking questions to sticking a knife in your gut?” you ask, trying to tug up his shirt to confirm the damage.

“No, I will not have sex with you!” he says loudly, pushing your hands away. “God woman, keep it in your pants.”

“I’ll punch you in the knife wound Bucky. I really will.”

Sighing loudly, he stops struggling and lets you pull apart the remaining shreds of his shirt. Examining the blood under his fingernails while you examine the slow leak of blood down his side, he shrugs nonchalantly.

“If you must know, he just got a bit pissy because apparently suck my dick wasn’t the correct response to that question.”

Life with Bucky Barnes is akin to chasing an aggressively accident-prone toddler, so you’re actually prepared for this situation.

Opening the silver clasp on your clutch, you search for the extra-absorbent bandages you threw in earlier. Folding his hands obediently, Bucky rests them on top of his head and watches with a serene expression while you wipe away the blood from around the wound, before ripping open the bandage and applying it carefully to his skin.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you ask, paper held between your teeth, “to try being a little less mouthy?”

Straightening the remains of his bloody t-shirt and wiping your grubby hands on his jeans, you look up to find him grinning.

“It did occur to me. But where’s the fun in that?” He holds his hand out expectantly. “On to part two. Did you bring my gun?”

The worst. Honestly. Sometimes he’s the worst.

“Yes, I brought your gun, you ungrateful douche.”

Lifting the edge of your skirt reveals the narrow straps of a black thigh holster, with Bucky’s favorite Glock strapped in place. He bites his lip and gives you that filthy smile again, crowding in close.

“Ugh. Dammit that’s so hot. Here, let me help,” his fingers snag the silky fabric, trying to pull up your skirt.

Slapping his hand and giving him a warning knee in the balls, he grunts and backs away with his wounded puppy face. Unclipping the gun, you flip it around and hand it over.

“Keep it in your pants Barnes, we don’t have time. The show’s about to start.”

Standing up straight, he salutes you with the barrel of the gun and cocks it dramatically.

“You’re the boss. Lead the way, you sexy little minx.”

*****

Navigating the labyrinth of halls, you find the back staircase leading up to a maze of crevices and hidey holes helpfully built into the rafters of the enormous ballroom. Finding a slot near the edge, you crawl into position, the smooth silk of your dress picking up the thick film of dust, making the slide easy.

God. Dammit. Bucky’s spending tomorrow morning getting this dress dry-cleaned and you better not hear a breath of argument from him.

“Seriously, I’m so fucking pissed at you,” you whisper, knowing full well his annoying super hearing will pick it up and sure enough, he rewards you with a stifled laugh.

The space is dark, muted light from the ballroom’s sparkling chandeliers allowing you to stay hidden from prying eyes down below. Bucky follows close behind, wiggling in next to you. Getting comfortable, he sighs happily and turns to you, gaze drifting from your face down your bare shoulders, over the swell of your ass, and that filthy smile appears again. Reaching down, he massages the back of your knee and runs his hand up your thigh, trying to pull your dress up again.

“Lemme see your panties.”

“For god’s sake, do not say panties, you weird fuck.”

“Fine. Lemme see your underpanties. Are they lace? Tell me they’re lace. You know how much I like lace.” His hand wanders further up to find your black lace covered bottom and he gives a whispered yes of delight.

Ignoring the wandering hand squeezing handfuls of your ass, you open the black clutch again, extracting four paper-thin pieces of metal. Clicking them together reveals a lightweight air-rifle with a narrow scope affixed to the top.

Bucky’s eyes light up.

“Gimmie,” he says breathlessly, releasing his death-grip on your ass and reaching grabby hands toward the weapon.

Still ignoring him, you prop the rifle on the ledge in front of you and peer through the scope, searching for the reason you’re stuck in the dirty ceiling of this exquisite ballroom, instead of somewhere fashionable with people making jealous remarks about your amazing shoes.

Bucky nudges you.

“Gimmie,” he says again.

“No, Bucky.”

“Yes, Bucky,” he insists, now trying to tug it from your grip. “Did you forget I’m the best shot the US army ever had? I even have a certificate that says so. You can’t argue with my certificate, it’s not patriotic. Captain America’ll arrest you.”

Still searching through the crosshairs, you peel his sticky fingers from the barrel with one hand.

“You drawing a picture of a gun, writing ‘Bucky rules’ on it, and taping it to the refrigerator does not mean you have a certificate.”

He gives an indignant little squawk. “Uh, I didn’t tape it to the ‘fridge, I superglued it to the ‘fridge. That fucker’s never coming down.”

“Can you please shut up? I need to focus.”

“Come on honeycakes, let me have the rifle,” he whines softly, resuming the light strokes down your thigh.

“No. I know you. You’ll shoot the guy in the eye just to prove you can, he’ll realize something’s up, and it’ll blow our cover.”

“Why would I do that?” His voice oozes shocked sweetness.

“Because you’re a showoff,” you mutter.

“I’m not a show-off,” Bucky argues and somehow in the narrow space he manages to crawl on top of you, straddle your hips and start licking your neck. “Sometimes I’m just vindictive, I can’t help that. Now come on and give me the rifle, hmm? Please? I got stabbed earlier, you should let me have my way. If I have internal bleeding and I die later, you’ll feel really bad about not giving me this one little thing. Come on, hand it over.”

He sucks your earlobe and tugs with his teeth.

Long ago, this strategy might have worked.

He is charming.

He excels at sweet talk.

He is murderously adorable.

The only thing working against him now – is that you know he’s completely full of shit.

“Get off me, you weigh a ton,” you respond instead, wiggling your shoulders to shrug him away.

“Did you just call me fat?” he whispers. He bites your ear harder.

“Maybe,” you shiver at the petulant huff warming your neck.

“I am offended.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not, but someone with less self-confidence might be and would you like that on your conscience?”

“I’ll manage.”

In that moment, the crosshairs find him, a tall man dressed in an impeccable black tuxedo, his blond hair slick and shining. Even though he’s dead set on being an annoying little shit, Bucky instantly recognizes your posture change and goes motionless above you. Taking a deep breath, focusing on the small mole on the back of the blond’s neck, you gently squeeze the trigger. With a twitch, the rifle silently expels the microscopic dart and you know it’s a direct hit when the man scratches absently at the patch of skin above his collar.

Bucky gives a hum of approval and plants a sloppy kiss on your neck.

“Nailed it. High five,” he says and reaches between his legs to slap your ass. “But how come you’re always so mean to me? And why the hell does it turn me on so much?”

Breaking down the weapon, you pack it back in the purse and snap it shut.

“Because you’re a fucking masochist.”

“True. So – now what?”

“Now we wait.”

As the words leave your mouth, the chandeliers begin to dim, the hum of voices dropping as the crowd of people shuffle to their seats.

Folding your arms, you lay your head down to wait. Bucky finally stops fidgeting, settling on top of you, balancing his weight on his forearms and resting his chin on your shoulder. He smells like attic dust and irony blood, but his heavy presence is a warm and comfortable weight.

All fades to black. Absolute silence.

The single note trembles in the darkness, the vibrating twang of a cello. Low lights slowly illuminate the small platform at the front of the ballroom, revealing three musicians and the sudden haunting whine of a violin shatters the stillness.

The air overflows with music, Tchaikovsky, Mozart, Bach, a symphony of classics bleeding together, never pausing. Bucky stays still above you, his only concession to movement when he occasionally presses his lips to the space behind your ear, breathing in the familiar lingering scent.

And sure, he drives you bonkers half the time and he may be utterly full of shit, but a simple fact remains.

Nothing in the world, beats the feel of his mouth on your skin.

Ninety minutes of magic fly by and applause fills the room as the lights come up for intermission, the audience leaping to their feet. No one notices the blond man seated halfway back, slumped in his seat, nor the shadowy figures of two people energetically arguing as they slip from a hidden exit in the back.

*****

From a distance, you spy the neon sign, the only beacon of colorful life along this desolate stretch of highway. Bucky perks up and bounces in his seat.

“There it is! Pull over.”

“Bucky, no. I’m tired and you’re bleeding on my leather seats and I want to go home and shower.”

“But I’m hungry. I’m literally wasting away.”

“Figuratively. You are figuratively wasting away.”

“So, you agree then, I’m wasting away and we should stop.”

“Oh my god, fine.”

Swerving into the parking lot with a screech of tires, both of you clamber from the vehicle still debating his rampant disregard for basic language definitions and stomp into the brightly lit Taco Bell. At this lonely hour, it’s nearly empty, minus the energetic high school kid with headphones using his mop as an air guitar, the line cook playing Jenga with a towering stack of tomatoes, and the bored woman behind the counter, chomping her gum and watching your bickering approach with interest.

Glancing at Bucky, you flinch at the image. The harsh light throws his wounds into sharp relief, bruises already fading from dark purple to sickly greenish-yellow. The gray t-shirt is shredded and stiff with blood and sweat and what appear to be chocolate fingerprints, lifted from the half-melted M&Ms he found in your glove box.

To be fair, you don’t look much better. The previously elegant heels dangle from loose fingers, speckled with blood and holding two wilted feathers. Covered head to toe in dust and cobwebs, your knees are scraped up and your polished toes curl bare against the floor.

What the hell possessed you to walk barefoot into a 24-hour Taco Bell you’ll never know, but alas. Here you are.

Bucky saunters up to the register and slaps his grimy hands on the counter, giving the woman his most charming smile and what he believes to be a sexy wink. She simply raises an eyebrow and snaps her gum.

“Hello. I want the dollar menu,” Bucky says, squinting up at the sign.

“Which items?”

“All the items,” he replies promptly. “And a diet soda please, not a regular one. I’m cutting back on the calories, apparently I need to watch my weight. The lady here says I’ve been pudging out.”

Pinching the non-existent fat on his washboard of a stomach, he gives her a conspiratorial nod and points back to you.

“I most certainly did not say that,” you huff, glaring at him.

“Yes, you did, you called me fat earlier,” he reminds you. “Remember? When I was on top of you and tried to pull up your dress?”

The woman stares at him and blows a pink bubble. Her eyes slide to you and she gives you a slow nod, the kind that clearly says nice.

“No,” you say sternly, pointing a warning finger. “Christ no. Do not encourage him.”

Bucky laughs, the sound of his husky voice echoing through the restaurant and dammit, he looks like someone threw a brick at his face and used him to sharpen their knives, but he’s still the most attractive man you’ve ever met and how’s that for annoying?

Fifteen minutes later, you’re back on the road, flying along as Bucky holds tight to his food and watches the highway intently, counting out road signs. Finally, he points to a small green number.

“This is it, last stop,” Bucky says, his voice brimming with excitement. “Slow down, the road’s there.”

Arguing is futile, so you follow his directions, turning off the highway and bumping down a narrow strip of unmarked road. The path winds further and further and you wonder at his end game, until the trees suddenly clear and you hit the brakes in surprise.

The night sky extends in front of you, an infinite black road to the stars twinkling above the black ocean waves, a dazzling full moon low on the horizon. The secluded beach is empty, a quiet world existing for you and Bucky alone – and when you turn to him, you see him watching you with an adoring grin.

That damn smile. It gets you every time.

“I swear Barnes, you’re good. You’re really good,” you admit and Bucky tips his head back and starts to laugh.

Climbing from the car, you dig out a plaid blanket from your trunk, and with heels and soda in hand, the echo of crashing waves pulls you through the darkness. Finding a flat space, you fluff the blanket out and collapse, stretching out with a soft groan and closing your eyes.

Bucky drops his bag full of cheesy beef burritos and chicken quesadillas and caramel apple empanadas and kicks off his boots with a matching groan of pleasure. Falling to the blanket he rolls onto his stomach and tears into the food, making his way through each item in silence. Long minutes tick by as the damp breeze blows over your skin and you begin to doze.

“You know,” he finally says, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m calling it. Tonight? Best. Date. Ever. Gonna be hard to top this.”

Rolling to the side, you prop your chin in your hand. “Come again?”

“Yeah, I planned it perfectly! The whole night, it was all things you wanted to do.” He finishes chewing the last bite, tucks the wrappers into the bag and sits up on his knees, ticking off the evening’s events.

“So first, we did a fun couples activity.”

“Me saving you from an ass beating and you snapping a guy’s neck isn’t exactly a couple’s activity, but sure.”

“Second, I got us private box seats, so we could go to a – sold out I might add – classical music concert.”

“I mean, again with the murder and now a massive dry-cleaning bill, but okay.”

“And to cap off the perfect date, we’re having a romantic moonlit picnic on the beach.”

The sarcastic quip balances on the tip of your tongue and in all fairness, Bucky expects a sassy response. Sass is the bedrock of your relationship.

But the words don’t come.

Instead, you absorb the pure beauty of the glowing white sand and of Bucky’s handsome face, reflecting on everything about him that led you here tonight.

He’s incorrigible.

A pain in the ass.

Ridiculous.

Passionate.

Hilarious.

Adorable.

The love of your life.

Damn. You’re head over heels for this idiot.

Nodding slowly, your lips curve into the smile he loves so well, the one that melts his heart, the one he went to outrageous lengths to pull from you tonight.

“Yeah. You’re right Buck. You pretty much nailed it.”

Bucky grins at the compliment. He picks up your left hand, brushes specs of sand away, and places two kisses on your finger.

One above your wedding band, one below.

Contentment sings through his veins and he threads his fingers through yours.

“Happy anniversary honey.”

“Happy anniversary Bucky.”

“Do me a favor, yeah?” Bending closer, he rubs his mouth lightly against your forehead, your nose, your lips. He drinks up the word with a blissful sigh when he hears your reply.

“Anything.”

“Get those heels back on, I ain’t letting them go to waste.”

Laughing, you hand him the shoes and he pulls your legs apart and crawls between them, slipping the heels gently on your feet one at a time, leaving wet kisses on each ankle.

The filthy smile is back.

He tugs up your skirt.

And this time, you go with it.

*****

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jimlingss · 6 years ago

Text

The Truth Between Us | 03

[!!] Co-written with @gukyi

⇒ Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 [Finale] || epilogue

⇒ summary: a book deal should be the most exciting time of your life, but there seems to be a constant and omnipresent damper on your mood in the form of a certain min yoongi, who you would just cut out from your life, if he weren’t your editor. but then, the world shifts beneath your feet, and you begin to wonder if maybe you’ve always been looking at life from the wrong angle.

⇒ enemies to lovers au with various other au’s thrown in there

⇒ word count: 15.6k

⇒ genre: fluff, angst, drama

⇒ warnings: uhh...teeth-rooting fluff and a ‘little’ stabbing angst. very little.

⇒ a/n: part three woo-hoo!! As usual, please hit @gukyi up and shower her with that praise. the first portion of this chapter is honestly all on her and i bow down to her as the master of that au. anyways, please enjoy this chapter!! it gets a lot more intense from here on out!!!

Color fades in and out, vivid hues and vibrant shades sucked away like a vacuum, reverting a children’s coloring book into its previous unmarred state. And in the instant that a blinding brightness sears into the back of your eyeballs, the world slams into you once more.

『The universe has formed.』

Matter weaves together, buildings and forests created, growing underneath the white sky that ripples to a baby blue. Pigments and stains rush to fill objects, assembling right in front of your irises. But as castle walls and towers begin to surround your body, you know there’s something different in this place.

The tingling in your fingertips tells you so.

“Wake up, Y/N.” Someone’s shaking you and immediately, you jolt awake, eyes opening towards an intricate canopy and long hair prickling at your nose. “You’re going to be late for breakfast.”

Your friend giggles, moving away to sit at the vanity mirror and you slowly rise from the comfortable bed, hair in a disarray and eyes weary. “What the—” But you’ve been through this enough times and you clear your throat, scanning the premise. “Where are we?”

It’s a circular room that’s relatively spacious. Ten beds follow the round walls, each of them obviously belonging to a specific person with the way it's decorated. There’s a broomstick by one, royal blue bed sheets spread on another, and you blink hard when you catch the inside of a poster moving. But your attention is stolen away by a rattling trunk to the bed next to you.

“What do you mean ‘where are we’?” She frowns, turning around with her rosy powder cushion still pressed against her cheek.

You recognize the female as Irene and while last time, she had been shaking in front of the conference room under your stare, this time she’s more at eased and relaxed. It wasn’t uncommon for you to use similar characters and celebrities in the little stories you used to write.

“I...uhh..” Your vision strays off to an owl sleeping by a wooden stand nearby, an oozing vial on someone’s nightstand but more importantly, by the wooden stick beside you.

“Boy, your head must’ve taken a real hit yesterday after Yoongi zapped you with that aguamenti charm.”

“....Yoongi?”

“I know you guys like ‘hate each other’,” She makes air quotations with her fingers and exaggerates her voice, rolling her eyes to add onto the theatrics as well. “But like, can you not flirt in front of everyone? It makes my single-ass feel bad and you guys can be so cheesy, it’s pretty disgusting.”

“What?”

“You don’t remember?” Her face scrunches up, and she turns back, sprinting floral perfume by her neck. “Why are you making me re-tell your damn love story? Ugh. Fine, you were pretty knocked out anyways. Yesterday, we were in Charms practicing the water-making spell, and I was trying to be a good student but of course, you were giggling with Yoongi behind the class and before everyone knew it, you were drenched from head to toe. Apparently, he blasted your skull with the end of his wand, hard enough for you to fall over and hit your head on the ground.”

Although you barely have an inkling of your location or the realm you’re in, hearing the story, makes your blood boil and you scoff. Everything that transpired a few seconds ago, the little ‘confessions’ of yours retreats into the hollows of your kind. You're once again reminded as to why he's so goddamn annoying.

“Excuse me?! That doesn’t sound like a love story. Why is he such an ass?!” Even in this universe Yoongi is just as unbearable as he used to be.

“Uh-huh. You said the same thing yesterday but tell that to Yoongi.” A smirk appears on her lips, and she stares at you through her mirror, a mischievous glint in her irises. “He was the one who kept apologizing, looking like he was gonna cry, and he carried you to the infirmary...like ‘princess style’ in front of everyone. And he skipped the rest of his classes to be with you, dinner too. There was sherbert lemon pie for dessert, and he missed that shit for you. If that ain’t love, I don’t know what is.”

“And look,” she suddenly points next to you and your eyes follow, finding a cute bouquet of sunny daffodils lying on your bedside table, held together with a single red ribbon. “He even transfigured flowers for you as an apology. It’s so romantic, it’s disgusting.”

Your mouth draws open but before you can retort or your tongue can stumble out any incoherent words, she beats you to the punch with a scoff of her own, “Enemies, my ass.”

“W-Where is he?”

It’s all that you manage to utter from your frozen lips and her smirk grows. “Your lover boy? Probably in the Hufflepuff common room. Why?”

Before she can get another word out, you’re darting out of bed, scrambling to put on the right uniform over your shabby t-shirt and pajama shorts. Hopefully, you remember the films well enough to figure out what the uniforms are supposed to look like. There’s not even enough time to ogle at the world around you—finally, a chance to be a witch, like you’ve always dreamed of!—as your slipping into your shoes, your socks two different lengths but you hardly care. Irene looks practically speechless as she watches you fumble around your desk for your various possessions, not even bothering to take off your pajamas as you change.

You start to bolt out of the dormitory, hand rubbing at your eyes in a desperate attempt to rid them of any sleep gunk, when Irene calls after you, “And you always said you didn’t care about him!”

You’re out of the common room in a flash, barely enough time to say hello to whoever is calling your name by the fire. Stumbling through the hallways, you finally allow your brain to catch up with your feet as you stare at the surrounding castle. You can hardly believe that you’re in Hogwarts, magic at the tips of your fingers, surrounded by something you had only thought was make-believe. You’re itching to try something out, say any spell your mind can muster up with the wand in your pocket, but you know that you’d better avoid that, at least until you find a certain Min Yoongi.

“Y/N!” Someone calls.

You dart your head around to find a nameless Gryffindor, a boy who looks to be only a year or so younger than you.

“Feeling any better?” He asks as he jogs up to catch you, books pressed against his chest by a single arm.

“What?” You ask before you remember the story Irene had told you. “Oh, yeah, just needed to sleep it off, I guess,” you say awkwardly.

“Good. That was a real fall,” the boy says. “I’m surprised they didn’t punish Min harder.”

“Have you seen him?” You ask, almost too excitedly, at the mention of his name. God, when did you get so damn desperate?

“Who? Min?” The boy questions, an eyebrow raised in confusion. “Not since this morning. I heard he’d been acting strange, though. Like he’d lost his memory, or something. Probably do best to ask Jung, though, since they’re pretty close.”

God, what shenanigans could Yoongi get up to now? You’re pretty sure you remember him saying something about how he never got into the Harry Potter franchise, so you can only imagine his surprise at being spontaneously thrusted into the universe.

“I’ll find him,” you say, shrugging off your concern. “Gotta beat him up for doing that to me. Thanks, though.”

“Hope he gets what he deserves!” the boy calls out to you as you rush off in the opposite direction.

There’s no time to waste as you whip yourself down corridors and through courtyards, struggling to navigate the maze-like campgrounds of the castle. You ask a few professors for directions, and they just manage to tell you which way before you’re off again. They scold you for sprinting around and you have barely half a mind to shout an apology.

Students slowly shuffle to breakfast, ghosts yawning from their naps but you dive head first into groups and cliques, ignoring the complaints and dirty looks. It’s only when you’re out of completely breath, lungs ready to shrivel up, chest heaving up and down that you notice a familiar head of black hair.

“YOONGI!”

You scream his name with the remaining air left in your raw throat and the boy darts his head over, his eyes lighting up, and he wobbles forward with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

Like you, the person approaching looks sixteen or seventeen. It reminds you of the previous High School Yoongi that was on the tennis court. But this time, his exterior is more disoriented. His dark hair is curled into a soft cloud with strands sticking upwards, round glasses on the tip of his nose and his robes hang off his shoulders in a sloppy manner. His face is tender again, chubby cheeks pinched pink, and he looks irritatingly adorable.

“Y/N?!” He grins happily and you’re caught off guard by his rare enthusiasm. “What is this place?!”

“It’s Hogwarts.” Your lips curl against your will. “You know, the world that Harry Potter is from.”

Yoongi blinks at you and then shifts to scan the surroundings. A long time ago, he called you a nerd and ‘basic’ for being a fan of the Harry Potter series. Apparently it’s too ‘mainstream’ for his liking and now, you’re preparing yourself to face more of his whining but-

“This is amazing!”

Your eyes widen. “It is?”

“Are you kidding me?! This is so fucking cool!” He leans over the open window archway, pupils lighting up at the vast valley landscapes. As he takes in the scenery, he then pulls a wooden stick from his sleeve and bounces on his toes back to you. “Look, I have a wand too! And I saw moving paintings before I got here, like the pictures move, and I even talked to them! Did you see the staircases? They move too! The architecture is so beautiful and I don’t even think you could see this kind of thing even if you travelled abroad, Y/N! Like not even New Zealand's landscapes are this gorgeous. This is the best fucking universe I’ve been to, hands down.”

There’s a pause and then uncontrollable giggles spill from your lips.

Yoongi pouts, watching you completely lose it, and he pokes your arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You wipe your eyes, smile ever growing. “You’re just a dork, that’s all.”

There’s no way possible way he can refute, so, he only lets out a half-heated, “Psh.”

As a few groups of students pass the pair of you, ghosts moving through the brick walls, the whomping willow swaying to the warm breeze, you take a moment, stepping back to gaze at your companion. The yellow and black of his tie inherently rips a gasp from your throat.

“Oh my God, you’re a Hufflepuff?”

Yoongi stares down to where you’re pointing, and he frowns. Quirking an eyebrow, he asks: “What?”

“Why are you a Hufflepuff? The hell? You should be in Slytherin or something,” you inform him pointedly, wondering if it was you that made the male lead a Hufflepuff or if this is just a practical joke pulled by the Gods that got you trapped in this universes in the first place.

Yoongi is, to put it simply, the last person you would ever think to be in Hufflepuff. Sure, he might be dedicated… and hardworking, but that’s it. And those are qualities that match every house, you swear. You can’t remember the last time you heard the Sorting Hat’s little rhyme about each of the houses, but you swear that Yoongi and Hufflepuff do not mix. Maybe, if you were being particularly generous, he could be considered loyal. After all, he’s stuck with you for so long. But he was far from patient… and kind, wasn’t he?

Upon his blank expression, having absolutely no clue to what you’re talking about, you pinch the bridge of your nose, explaining yourself, “Hogwarts has four houses that you can be sorted into. Slytherin for the cunning, Gryffindor for the brave, Hufflepuff for the kind and Ravenclaw for the intelligent. Obviously, I’m an intellectual, so, I’m in Ravenclaw. The main color of the house is blue and bronze. See?” You point to your own tie and then to his. “Apparently, you’re in Hufflepuff.”

Yoongi snorts at your incessant rambling, his lips twitching into a slight smirk. “And you’re calling me the dork.”

With one more glance at you, he spins around on his toes, black robes swishing in the air. You barely manage to catch up to his large strides. “Where are you going?”

“Exploring.”

Yoongi doesn’t ask for the ending of the story or how to escape this universe and you’re not complaining either. It’s wondrous and surreal to be in the world that you’ve read about as a child and seen through theater screens. Not to mention, this isn’t an amusement park either or a re-creation. It’s the real thing, or at least your version of it.

This story was written as a guilty pleasure like the previous one too, one that you created mindlessly in your university years. There was no way you could publish an actual novel when JK Rowling had ownership of the franchise. So, it was your little secret, filled with embarrassing fantasies of hot celebrities as your wizard classmates. Except now, you were sharing it with Yoongi.

“Is that…?”

He squints, meagerly being able to make out the blonde man approaching from a distance but by the stiffening of your body, your sharp inhale and the back of his mind ringing a bell, he knows this person is familiar.

“Oh my God.” You tug on Yoongi’s arm, and he flinches when your tone moves up to a teenage-girl screeching pitch. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

It’s motherfucking Kim Taehyung again. You feel your heart soar.

And as Yoongi scowls, you practically swoon on the spot.

“How’s my favourite Ravenclaw doing?” The older, seventh-year prefect strides up to you, throwing his arm leisurely over your shoulder and pulling you close. Yoongi swears you almost combust right then and there.

Taehyung gives you a light and playful noogie before his hand reaches up to pet your head. An incoherent string of syllables slip off your tongue, steam practically rising out of your ears. The actor, that was now a Hogwarts Gryffindor, releases you and sends a mischievous look at Yoongi.

“Min, you better not be harassing my favourite Ravenclaw. I heard what you did yesterday,” Taehyung warns with a pointed expression. It’s obvious that Yoongi and Taehyung’s relationship, whatever it may be, isn’t on the best of terms. “I better keep an eye on you, Y/N. Make sure he isn’t hurting you.”

You don’t recall writing that into the piece.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Yoongi’s eyes narrow, arm reaching out and his hand captures your wrist. Yoongi tugs you in towards him and you’re caught off guard, stumbling until your head meets his hard chest and his arm has snuck around your waist, holding you close. “I can take care of her perfectly fine.”

Taehyung cocks a brow, crossing his arms in amusement and sends a knowing look towards Yoongi, one that you can’t decipher. You’re already bewildered at Yoongi, blinking up at him and wondering why this sixteen year old Yoongi was taller than you. Maybe he hit his growth spurt quicker than Tennis Yoongi.

“Well, I’ll leave you both to your own devices. I have a Herbology assignment to submit.” Taehyung begins to walk away and you whimper, hands twitching to reach out to your all-time crush. However, you don’t get the chance, not when Yoongi takes the opportunity and smoothly interlaces your open fingers with his. “Don’t get up to any trouble, you two, or else I’ll have to write you up for detention.”

The gorgeous, glowing angel sends one wink towards your companion before he turns fully and disappears. You begin to sulk, having yet again lost the opportunity of getting an autograph from him but no sooner are you being hauled into the opposite direction.

Yoongi’s palm is still clasped around yours, his hand firm and somehow comforting. You’re too preoccupied with meeting his quick steps to question it. “W-where are we going? We have classes to go to, Yoongi! And there’s breakfast in the Great Hall—”

“Y/N.” He quirks his head over to stare into your eyes. “You know you’re not really a student here, right?” There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He’s not wrong.

Soon, your footsteps are synchronized with Yoongi’s as you scour the castle together, peeking in every nook and cranny, skipping classes and running in the other direction when professors are walking past. The pair of you snicker and giggle like children, hiding behind shelves and pillars before the coast is clear, and he takes your hand once more, tugging you along.

You’ve never seen Yoongi so childish and excited before. He’s practically a kid, himself, and it makes you giddy too.

“Y/N, Y/N, look!” The two of you were in the East Wing courtyard, alone while the students were in their classes. Yoongi’s got a book he’d stolen from the library earlier under his arm, one copy of a Standard Book of Spells. He’d almost nabbed one about flowers, too, but it was absurdly heavy and not worth lugging around.

“Yoongi, it’s dangerous! Don’t—”

He looks down into his hand holding the textbook, and he flickers his other wrist in two gentle motions, letting the wood of his wand dip down slightly in the second movement. “W-Wingar…dium Levi...Leviosa…?”

Suddenly, a rock a few meters away is lifted into the air, levitating. Your jaw drops. Yoongi bursts from enthusiasm and hops up and down. “Look Y/N, look!”

“Holy shit! How did you do that?”

“Try it!”

Magic doesn’t come as easily to you as it does into Yoongi. It’s unfair since you were a fan first but no matter the different pronunciations you try or the ways you move your hand, it doesn’t work. Your frustration multiples until Yoongi sighs, walking up and grabbing hold of your wrist again.

“It’s Levi-O-sa,” Yoongi stresses, hand gripping yours tightly as he guides your want movement. “Emphasize the ‘O’ part. Not the ‘A’ part,” he instructs dutifully.

You try to ignore the way your chest shakes as Yoongi teaches you the spell, instead hoping to focus on the anger that should be bubbling up in your core from how unjust the fact is that he’s better at magic when you’re the one who even got him into this universe in the first place.

Together, Yoongi coaches you through the spell, until your voices are soft and your movements are natural as you say, hand in hand, “Wingardium Leviosa.”

“Oh my God, it’s working.”

Albeit, you’re lifting a feather instead of a goddamn rock, it’s still levitating mid-air and laughter breaks from your mouth. Yoongi matches your grin. “We should try the fire-making spell next.”

He lets go of you, moving to sit on the grassy lawn and flip through the old pages. You frown but you continue to make the feather float. “What if we accidentally set the school on fire, and we alter the story too much, and we can’t leave?”

“Relax.” His finger lines the endless sentences. “This is a grade-one book. If eleven year olds can do this, so can we.”

“But we’re not really wizards or witches, Yoongi.”

“In this world, we are.” He’s much too eager. You’re not even sure if Yoongi wants to leave this universe. But you let him have his fun, watching as he draws a flame with his wand and mutters ‘Incendio’, setting leaves into an orange inferno. Yes...for once, you let him have his fun.

That is...until he figures out how to white sparks and begins to zap you with it.

“Yoongi! Stop it!” You’re running as fast as you can while he’s hot on your tail, laughing maniacally like the evil, little bitch that he is. “This isn’t funny!”

“I’ll stop running if you stop running!”

Even if the white sparks don’t hurt you in any way, shape or form, it still freaks you out. The sparks are like mini-explosions or fireworks, and they way it crackles is loud. Not to mention, when he keeps flickering them at you, the fog makes it difficult to see and breathe.

“I swear I’m going to kill you!”

He shoots another one towards your feet. “I’d like to see you try!”

You cackle, spinning around and zapping one at his face. “Ha! Take that!”

He barely manages to dodge. “Oh, it’s on now, witch!”

“Yeah?” You stop by a tree, sticking out your tongue and mocking him. “Is it now?”

Yoongi’s preparing to launch another attack on you, maybe tackle you down onto the soft bed of grass as well. All you do is squeal and shut your eyes, preparing for another white firework eruption but-

“HEY!”

There’s a bloodcurdling shriek from the open corridor and you both, simultaneously, crane your heads around. There’s a mysterious professor with a gold pendulum hanging off his neck, robes a dark blue and hair a stark carmine. His brows are so furrowed, it almost looks like the wrinkles will permanently crease into his skin. From his age, you could probably assume they already have.

Oh God, you hope you didn’t write Professor Snape into this piece. Imagine the horror.

“What are you doing?!” He squawks and begins to march up, Yoongi taking a step back in fear. It’s unusual since he’s never really afraid of anything but completely understandable at the same time. The professor looks like he’s about to have a hernia. “Don’t you have classes to attend? I’m immediately docking forty points each off of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw because of your irresponsibility and buffoonery!”

Maybe if you were actually students here, you’d feel a little bad. From what you can gather, at least you are a well-liked individual here at Hogwarts, whereas Yoongi, not so much. You wonder what your make-believe peers would think if they found out you were the reasons their houses are in last place.

You can only grimace guiltily as the professor drones on about responsibility and ‘being mature’ and other nonsense that neither you nor Yoongi seem to care about. Even though he’s hidden his wand up his sleeve, it’s clear that he’s itching to get to try something else, cast another spell or see another magical moving object. You wonder if it’s Quidditch season yet—maybe you can take Yoongi to a game. You know he’ll enjoy it more when he’s not the one engaging in the sport. Besides, he’s always been a basketball fan—you remember him mentioning the fact offhand during one of your meetings. Quidditch is like, basically the same thing. Except on brooms. And with three balls. Two of which fly around on their own accord.

Shrugging, you hope that this universe’s you doesn’t have a penchant for mischief, because you’re about to ruin that reputation very quickly.

“Professor,” you say, voice sickeningly sweet as you interrupt his spiel, “can you tell me about Harry Potter?”

The professor seems taken aback. “Harry Potter? Why?”

“I just want to know more about him. Is it true that he survived the Killing curse?” You ask, feigning interest. You already know everything there is to know and more about The Boy Who Lived.

“Well, there’s not really much to say,” the professor says. “Four years ago, He Who Must Not Be Named tried to murder him, but he survived. We know very little about what happened to him, but I believe he is being taken care of by Muggle relatives.”

Aha! So this universe is before Harry Potter’s time. Thank God, really. You don’t know what you would have done if you had to deal with getting yourself and Yoongi out of this universe while at the same time having to fight off the forces of Lord Voldemort. There’s a limit.

“Oh, thank you Professor!” You say as though the man just cured cancer. “I had heard they were just rumors. Well, we best be off to class, goodbye!” You cry quickly before grabbing onto Yoongi’s hand and dragging him away from the professor before he can berate you for anything else. Yoongi’s cackling the entire way back to the castle, unable to stop laughing at the façade you put on in front of the teachers.

“Wow, are you sure you’re not Slytherin?” Yoongi asks, very obviously pleased with himself that he’s finally getting a grasp on the magical jargon of this realm. You have to admit, it’s kind of cute, how satisfied he looks with himself.

You purposely bump into his shoulder, a rather playful movement that has him grinning. “Please, if I was a Slytherin, with my beauty and brains, this world would be doomed. You’d never make it out alive.”

Come to think of it, there are so many goddamn dangerous things in the magical world of Harry Potter that it’s as if death waits around every corner. Suddenly, you feel much more responsibility to make sure Yoongi doesn’t trap himself in a Devil’s Snare or bump into the Whomping Willow by accident. Knowing him, of course, he absolutely would.

“We should probably stick closer to the castle,” you tell him as you begin walking down the open hallway. “Just in case we get caught. I could probably lie about something. It seems like everyone likes me in this universe,” you say happily. “Well, everyone except you.”

You poke Yoongi in the chest as you walk along, nodding hello to the ghosts that pass you by. They don’t give a shit about whether or not you’re in class, thankfully. He curls into himself adorably, like one of those pillbugs, soft smile growing on his face.

“Hey,” he says indignantly, pouting. “I like you. Everyone thinks that, at least. And I mean, I think so, too.”

“How many universes did it take?” You joke, holding out your fingers to count. “Five? Six?”

Yoongi frowns. “You can’t even remember how many universes we’ve been through?”

You cross your arms in front of your chest as you turn a corner, nearly knocking into a statue that would probably shout in surprise if you did. “Can you?” You ask as a rebuttal.

Yoongi keeps his eyes trained on the ground. “I lose track of time when I’m with you,” he mutters under his breath. It’s so quiet that you almost don’t hear him. Almost.

You pause as your mind processes the words, like it requires so much brain-power to comprehend and turn them into a thought you can coherently respond to that you need to come to a full-blown stop. Yoongi seems so distracted that he nearly keeps going, leaving you behind, but notices at the last second that you’ve strayed away.

“Did you… did you say something?” You ask, blinking, as if that’s going to help.

“Me? No, no,” Yoongi says, shrugging. Strange. You swear he did. Maybe you’re just fucking with yourself. There’s no way Yoongi would ever flirt with you. “Hey, what’s that closet over there?”

He manages to distract you easily, pointing towards a wooden door with a black sign plastered over it that reads: NO STUDENTS ALLOWED. Well, that’s practically got your names written on it. As you scurry over, you can hear a familiar monotonous voice from the room next door, and that’s when it hits. This is the Potions closet.

Oh God, if Snape catches the two of you, you’re dead meat. Maybe you can pull the Herbology card if desperate times call for desperate measures. Lord knows Sprout’s always been quite the gullible professor.

As you approach, you can clearly make out Snape berating what sounds to be a first year, if the crying on the other end of the conversation is anything to go by. Oh, classic Snape. Thank God you’re skipping all of your classes today. And for the rest of the time you’re here. Hopefully, his voice is so loud that he won’t be able to hear you and Yoongi sneaking into a closet that you will definitely get detention for being in.

“Quietus,” you cast, vaguely remembering the spell from one of the books. You point your wand at your footsteps, hoping the charm will silence them as you near the closet. “Alohomora.”

Easily, the door opens. Damn, Snape needs to work on his door locking techniques if it’s so damn simple for two students who know very little about Hogwarts to get inside. You shush Yoongi as you tug him inside by the collar, quickly shutting the door behind you and hoping that nobody saw.

“Lumos,” you say, allowing light to pierce the end of your want (and your retinas) so you can scan the shelves, glancing at anything that catches your eyes.

There are vials filled with sparkling purples, deep matte blues, bright yellows, lime greens, and everything in between. A few of them ooze and give off strange fumes, others foaming and frothy. Some of them have labels, and some of them don’t. Yoongi mimics your actions until his wand also starts to glow, excitedly peering in every nook and cranny. It seems that he doesn’t want to miss a second in a world like this.

“Don’t touch anything,” you advise Yoongi, knowing well enough that you are unfamiliar with most, if not all of these potions, and that consuming any one of them would be more than just a terrible idea. It would be straight disastrous.

“What’s Amortentia?” Yoongi asks as he plucks a small bottle from the top shelf. It’s gleams a mother-of-pearl type sheen, soft and pink, and when Yoongi removes the cap, it emits steam in the shape of spirals. “Smells good.”

“Yoongi, don’t—!” You cry out softly, but it’s too late, as Yoongi is already downing the entire bottle like a dehydrated madman and stuffing the emptied glass into his pocket for safekeeping. Your eyes widen at the sight of him as the color seems to drain right from his body for a mere few moments before returning, his lips colored a dusty rose.

“It didn’t do anything,” Yoongi says, disappointed. “I don’t feel any different.”

“God dammit, Yoongi,” you exclaim to yourself, shaking your head as you reach over to grab his hand. “Thought I told you not to touch anything.”

“You don’t understand, Y/N. It smelled amazing. I can’t—I can’t figure out what that scent was, but it was perfect. I want to take that scent and turn it into a personalized Febreze bottle, so I can have it for the rest of my life,” Yoongi says. He leans in close you to, pressing his head into the crook of your neck for a solid five seconds as you freeze up at the touch. “Come to think of it, it smells like you.”

“Me?” You ask, shocked. You push his head away instinctively, unsure how to feel at the touch. It was foreign and familiar, all at once. Yoongi seems to have that effect on you. “Why on earth would it smell like me?”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi says, shrugging. “You smell like… paper. And ink. And new books. You know that new book smell, when you go to Barnes and Noble and buy a brand-new novel and you’re in the line for the cashier and you just sniff the pages because they are so crisp and untouched and perfect? That’s what you smell like.”

“You have a good nose,” you point out.

“It’s easy to distinguish,” Yoongi says in return. “But there’s something else I spell that I can’t put my figure on,” he mumbles but then shrugs it off. “What was Amortentia even supposed to do? It’s like I drank it and then nothing happened. You’re still you and I’m still me. No body-swapping, or anything. Boo.”

“I really don’t think that’s what Amortentia is supposed to do, unless it goes horribly wrong,” you say warily, eyes wide at the thought. This universe business is enough, imagine if you had to go through it trapped in Yoongi’s tiny frame! “It’s a love potion, as far as I remember.”

Yoongi looks as though he’s seen a ghost. A real one that’s meant to spook you, not like the ones that parade around Hogwarts greeting you. “A… a love potion?”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding to yourself. “Except maybe this one was just faulty, since nothing changed when you took it. I mean, who were you even supposed to fall in love with, then?”

Yoongi’s silent. Guess he doesn’t have an answer.

You grab onto his hand, directing your illuminate wand towards the door to the closet. “We should probably get out of here before Snape finds us and skins us alive,” you say, hoping classes haven’t finished yet and the hallways are clear for you to continue fooling around.

Yoongi nods, eyes glinting in the light from the spell as you shine the light close to him, just to make sure he hasn’t drifted off somewhere. The door creaks ever so slightly as you peer out, making sure the coast is clear. When there’s nobody in sight, you and Yoongi slowly tiptoe out, Yoongi’s hand held firmly in yours as you lead the two of you from the closet and hope that nobody catches you.

Once you’re down the hallway, safe and sound from any trouble, you and Yoongi make the executive decision of camping yourselves on one of the benches as you wait for whatever’s next.

“Are you sure nothing changed when you drank that potion?” You ask as you lean in close, just to make sure Yoongi’s eyes haven’t turned an ominous red, or anything. You swear, that’s the only reason you’re staring into them. Seriously.

Yoongi looks himself up and down and shakes his head. “I feel the same.”

“Huh,” you say to yourself, positively perplexed. You doubt Snape would keep a faulty love potion in his closet full of things that are strictly prohibited from students, but you can’t think of any other explanation for the lack of change in Yoongi’s behavior. Maybe potions magic didn’t work on you since you were actually a muggle. Still, that doesn’t explain your ability to cast all the charms you have. Unless…

No, you must be going crazy. There’s absolutely no way.

“What next?” Yoongi asks as he stares out into the little courtyard that rests right next to you, a single tree growing out from the ground in the center. The campus seems so quiet when you two are the only ones making noise.

“We figure out what we need to do to get home,” you say.

“Mr. Min! Miss Y/L/N!”

The unfamiliar voice of a female teacher catches the both of you off guard. It’s no McGonagall that’s approaching you. Instead, it’s the vaguely memorable face of who you believe to be the Muggle Studies teacher that’s sauntering towards both of you, hands firmly planted on her hips.

“What are you two both doing out of class?” She asks, but she doesn’t seem particularly threatening.

“We were just taking a break,” you say, truthfully. “I don’t really understand what’s happening in class right now, and I was hoping Yoongi could explain it to me.”

You sweeten your voice, batting your lashes back and forth in order to alleviate the situation. In the meanwhile, Yoongi stares at your profile and stifles back a snort. Unfortunately, however, the professor isn’t as susceptible to your cunning charms as much as the other one.

“Well, you two certainly have some chemistry,” she comments. Even the teachers are in on it? Damn, maybe you’re more popular than you thought. “I’d suggest going back to class before someone punishes the both of you. You have Defense Against the Dark Arts right now, correct?”

She knows your schedule better than the both of you, so you nod. At least you appear to have escaped any sort of punishment. You can hardly imagine how disappointed your house would be if they found out that you were the reason that you lost all of those house points, because you were traipsing around the castle with Yoongi. Irene would never let you hear the end of it.

“Well, move along then,” she says, motioning to the door across the hall. “Don’t want to see the two of you out here during class time again, understand?”

You and Yoongi firmly shake your heads, nodding like the diligent and respectful students you apparently are as you awkwardly approach the thick wooden door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Like fate would have it, you were conveniently right beside it the entire time. Hopefully nobody will think too much of two students sneaking into class halfway through it. You’ve lost enough points already.

Luckily, you and Yoongi manage to find your seats—right next to each other—without drawing too much attention to yourselves, opening your textbooks immediately and pretending as if you were there the entire time. It doesn’t look like the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—whoever they are, since you’re before Harry Potter’s time—pays very much attention to the class at all.

Sometime during the lecture, Irene whips her head around from where she’s sitting and spots the two of you. She gives you this incredulous look, like a sort of “What the fuck are you doing and where the fuck did you come from?” kind of expression, one that has you smiling guiltily in return with Min Yoongi’s head resting in the crook of your neck.

“The Patronus charm is one of the most powerful defensive spells in a wizard or witch’s arsenal. But, it is also one of the most difficult,” you catch the professor saying, paying minimal attention since you just so happen to know most of the information about it. “The corporeal Patronus takes the shape of a guardian spirit, typically an animal. They are often animals with which you share a strong bond with, whether it be physical or emotional, but the guardian’s form can also change should you experience an unwavering, eternal love of some sort.”

Just at that moment, Yoongi’s hand brushes over yours. You pay little attention to it, instead choosing to focus on the professor.

“Today, we will be practicing it, just so that you can all get a feel for the spell. I want an essay of two rolls of parchment on its uses and its history on my desk in exactly a week, though,” the professor instructs, whipping out his wand. “In order to conjure it, you must think of the happiest memory you have, one that brings you nothing but the biggest of smiles, as you say the words: Expecto Patronum.”

You hear Yoongi next to you, muttering the spell under his breath. Is he actually going to try to cast it? You recall The Order of the Phoenix—you remember how difficult it was for Harry to teach everyone how to cast it. And those were skilled wizards, too. Not just any random human, plucked off of the street. Like Yoongi.

“You will make a circular motion with your wand and say the incantation, but be careful not to point your wand at anybody, as the light that the spell emits is quite bright,” the professor warns. “Watch.”

With a simple twist of his wand, he says, “Expecto Patronum.” From the end of his wand bursts forth a simple white light before it morphs into the shape of a fox, bounding from one end of the room to the other. The students are mesmerized—and so is Yoongi—as they watch it leap around the room, a trail of white dust following it until it disintegrates into the air.

“Now, for your turn. Remember, circular motions,” the professor advises, stepping off of the platform to begin inspecting students’ techniques.

“What’s the incantation, again?” Yoongi asks as he stands up, readying himself.

“Expecto Patronum,” you repeat from memory. Prisoner of Azkaban was always your favorite book. “What memory are you using, Yoongi?”

“Uh…” Yoongi says, pausing. “When I was six. And I won my school’s spelling bee. Yeah, that’s it,” he quickly tells you.

“Born to correct other people’s spelling errors,” you joke, nudging him slightly.

What Yoongi doesn’t tell you, though, is how his happiest memory is merely from the prior universe. It’s seeing you, standing in front of him in a jumpsuit that brings out the deep color of your eyes, telling him that there’s nobody you’d rather be with than him. Even though the confession was only so that you could move onto the next universe, you didn’t really mean what you said, it is something that Yoongi will cherish for as long as he can, for as long as he knows you and more. He knows that once you are freed from these universe travels you will go back to hating each other, so he savors every moment by your side.

“How about we cast them together?” Yoongi suggests. “Just to see.”

“We are probably the least qualified sixth years to be doing this spell, just saying,” you point out as you stand up next to him, wand at the ready.

Yoongi chuckles. “I think that makes this even better.”

“Okay,” you say, breathing out, thinking of the happiest memory you can. You try and tell yourself it’s when you graduated from high school, or had a 3AM bonfire with friends during the summer of your junior year of university, but what seems to cover them all is Yoongi’s face. Memories with him are limited but overwhelmingly present, like your brain is insisting that your happiest moment has occurred with him. And that’s when you realize. Your happiest moment is right now, is every universe before this and every universe after because you don’t think you’ve ever had as much fun in your life. Maybe you’re trapped with Yoongi but that’s alright, because you can’t help the smile on your face when you see who each universe has turned him into, a little different but still the Yoongi you know so well. You’re living through your happiest moments because you are next to him every step of the way, every world you enter and every world you leave. He is your happiest memory.

Together, the two of you follow through with the movements of your wands and say, gazing at each other the entire time, “Expecto Patronum.”

Yoongi’s is the one you notice first. It materializes from a collection of white dust, sparking under the firelight of the classroom as it travels around the room, slowly forming the shape of a cat. It’s calico—you can tell from the clear markings that decorate its fur—and it meows, just for good measure before running back to Yoongi’s wand and disappearing.

And then you see yours. It’s a poodle. Of all things, a poodle, barking happily as it jumps around the room, the dust circling you and Yoongi excitedly before vanishing in front of your eyes. You and Yoongi are speechless as you stare at your wands, wondering what your patronuses mean. You can’t say you’ve ever felt connected with a poodle, of all animals.

“A cat?” Yoongi asks loudly, sort of in shock. “Why a cat? I don’t even like them.”

You scoff. “Cats are my favorite animal, alright? Back off. I mean, mine was a freaking poodle, of all things, so it’s not like you’re the only one who got snubbed.”

“I had a poodle when I was little,” Yoongi points out randomly. “His name was Holly.”

“You did?” You ask, turning to him. “I didn’t know that.”

Before Yoongi can say something else, Irene begins laughing. She bursts into giggles from her seat across the way, having forgotten entirely about the Patronus charm as she doubles over. You and Yoongi look her way, equal amounts of bewildered. The rest of your classmates have also turned to stare, their wands dropping, none of them yet able to create a patronus like you and Yoongi. Even the professor, himself, is amazed at your magical abilities.

“Are you guys serious?” She asks between laughs. “Seriously? You don’t even know?”

“Know what?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh my God, you guys are crazy. Are you seriously that blind?” She asks like you’re missing the elephant in the room, like the answer is staring you down but you can’t even see it. “You guys wouldn’t know love even if it punched you in the face.”

Love? What’s love got to do with it? You furrow your brows in an attempt to increase your understanding, hoping to figure out why Irene looks so incredulous, why she’s acting like you and Yoongi are in a constant state of beating around the bush. The professor had said that the Patronuses are only affected when you are in an eternal love, but what does that mean for you?

Immediately, your mind drifts back to the Potions closet. The Amortentia. Yoongi drank it without experiencing any effects in return, but maybe he didn’t need to. Maybe the love potion wasn’t going to do anything anyway. And now, you’re standing here with Min Yoongi casting his patronus as your favorite animal, and you’re casting his, and suddenly it seems fairly obvious.

“You don’t think…?” You ask, unsure if you’re directing your question at Yoongi or at Irene.

Irene rolls her eyes. “It’s high time the two of you realized that you were in love!”

A few of your peers are snickering at the exclaimed proclamation and the professor smiles discreetly, turning away to help a few struggling students.

It’s one thing to have this feeling under your skin, this subtle awareness of the fact, and it’s another for a fictional character to blatantly spell it out for you. Now that you’re hearing it out loud, coming from someone’s mouth, it suddenly feels easier to argue against. Like it’s easier to disregard, to disprove, only because everyone’s acting as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“We’re not in love,” you say defensively.

Maybe it’s just your characters. Maybe you’re just embodying the protagonists that you had created for this universe, maybe they are the ones that are supposed to be in love and you and Yoongi are just mimicking their actions, their personalities. That would explain Yoongi’s placement in Hufflepuff. Your mind rattles as it tries to grab onto any semblance of logic, of reasoning, any explanation for the strangely romantic behavior in this universe other than your true emotions. It’s almost like you refuse to accept the end result for what it is. Like you can’t ever comprehend the idea of Yoongi actually caring for you, or vice versa.

You swear, if you were back in your own world, you’d still hate each other. It’s just the Universe Effect™.

Irene scoffs. “Yeah, I’ll believe that when You Know Who comes back.”

“Actually—” You begin.

“Just kiss him already!” Another boy calls out in exasperation. He earns a chorus of agreement.

Yoongi looks like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole, and you have to admit, you’re with him on this one.

“Min Yoongi, can you explain this?” You inquire, turning to him.

He’s silent.

It’s just this universe. It’s the magic that’s making your brain delusional, tricking you into thinking Min Yoongi, of all people, is in love with you. Sure, through each universe you’ve retained your core personalities, but maybe this world has just placed you more firmly into the shoes of the characters you created. The characters are supposed to be madly in love, not you and Yoongi. That would explain the Amortentia. And the Patronuses.

You and Yoongi aren’t in love, right?!

You grab hold of Min Yoongi’s collar, staring him dead in the eyes. Everyone around you begins to cheer, to chant, but all you can see is him. Even as the world begins to twist and turn, to morph into an indistinguishable blob of nothingness, he is the only thing your gaze rests upon.

Once more, like all the other times before, the world is ripped away from your fingertips.

Your surroundings wash away, your vision being blinded by light and your body floating like a feather in an empty abyss, just waiting to be placed in a different galaxy. The tingling sensation of magic, of a wondrous supernatural wizardry is torn from your blood and bones. But instead of feeling hollow and barren, something else has shifted inside your chest. Although you cannot forth spells or charms with the flicker of your wrist or enchant another being with syllables rolling off the tip of your tongue, you are far from feeling desolate. The magic has simply moved elsewhere.

And you only feel it when you think of Yoongi.

『The universe has formed.』

“Y/N. Wake up.” The voice is more urgent this time around, a note of panic ripping through the sweet and soft timbre. “Why are you sleeping?”

“W-what?” It’s difficult to peel back your eyelids. You haven’t felt so weary and exhausted in such a long time. It’s as if your muscles have been overly-exerted and your bones are brittle, the feeling of being famished embedded into your flesh. You are weak. You are weary.

“My wedding is tonight. Hurry.”

You sit up from your spot on the floor, having curled up into fetal position in the corner of the room. And once your rise on your trembling legs, you are met with the most gorgeous woman on the planet.

She is the same stature as you but the lady stands taller from her wealth, radiating the confidence that you do not have. Her skin is smooth and polished, hair perfectly combed back into braids that build beautifully at her crown, multiple jeweled hair pins sticking from her locks. Her lips are two daffodil petals, cheeks pinched into a roseate shade, gown made from the finest silk fabrics, red skirt imprinted with black swirls and intricate loops.

“Heo Yeonhwa…” The young lady’s name is already rolling from your tongue without a single thought.

She is one of your most memorable characters. She was the first fictional being that you ever cried for. She is someone that has always been real inside of your mind, someone who suffered her entire life and even in the end, found nothing for her future. Yet, she embodies the person you’ve always wanted to be.

Dignified. Fearless. Beautiful.

Her brow lifts from your impolite speech, directly calling her name without any sort of proper title attached to it. But she allows it to pass, pacing until she meets the murky vanity and sets herself down on the seat. “Re-do my hair. It’s hurting my scalp.”

“O-okay.”

As you approach, you catch your reflection. You are nothing but a lowly maid, face permanently dirtied and sunburnt, cheeks hollow and outline of bones visible, hair matted down and tucked into a low ponytail. Your clothes are of dull colors, browns and soiled whites. You are nothing in this world. And that makes it all the much harder to accept the ending to this story.

An ending that you know like the back of your hand.

With gentle fingers, you carefully undo the pins and clips, letting her braids fall before you unwrap them. Against your will, your hands begin to tremble as you brush her soft, long hair. Guilt and remorse begins to envelop your being. Facing your own character makes you wonder why you used your pen on paper, why you let your fingers tap against the keys, to make her destiny so horrible. Maybe it’s true after all that writers are the most evil of them all.

For the first time, you truly feel like the villain.

“Why are your hands shaking, maid?!” Her tone is clipped, sharp and venomous. You wince, and she rips her own strands away from your grasps with a huff, doing it herself.

“I-I’m sorry.” You jump back, grabbing fistfuls of your skirt and downcasting your head, bottom lip quivering. You lack the courage to look her in her eyes, but she does not.

“—Your highness,” she corrects.

“Your highness.” You nod. “I’m sorry, your highness.”

A sigh spills from her pretty lips and her fingers work her locks, braiding it tightly without a single piece loose. “Soon, it’ll be princess. And one day, you’ll have to call me Empress.”

There’s a silence. She gazes at you through the mirror and her body softens. “Y/N,” the lady calls you quietly, “look at me.”

With hesitance, you lift your chin, locking your gaze upon her.

“You don’t have to be afraid. Be at ease.” A tiny smile graces her lips, and she nods at you, gentler and becoming almost a maternal presence. “There was no need for you to apologize.”

“I—”

“And there’s no need for you to call me such a title, at least when we’re alone.” Supposedly, you grew up together, practically sisters at this point. But you feel like you know her on a deeper level. You wrote her, you know all her emotions and experiences, you created her.

In a way, you are her.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been harsh to you.” She drapes her braids behind her back, hands folded into her lap. “Things have been getting out of hand at the palace. I haven’t been feeling well.”

“There’s no need for you to apologize to me, your highness.” You’re compelled to speak to her as delicately as you can, afraid that the fragile girl will shatter in your hands. She is no less than your age but has lived through more than five lifetimes worth of pain. At least, that’s what you’ve written her as.

You step forward, raising your hands to do her hair again, at least to the best of your abilities.

There’s a quiet and peaceful moment, the morning air seeping through the open window, the birds swooping across the azure sky and chirping their lively lullabies. The sun gleams down, rays pouring through the paper walls and a sort of serenity fills your soul.

“Do you think he’ll ever love me?”

Lady Yeonhwa stares at you carefully through the mirror. It’s a test, a deliberate question. But her gaze tells that she already knows too much about your own inner feelings.

“The crown prince.” She clarifies, “Min Yoongi.”

You swallow down the thick lump in your throat. “I’m not sure.”

“Love is fickle. At least that’s what my mother told me all my life. It’s what she told me before we came here.”

You don’t know what to say to her, how to make things better, how to lessen the agony that is to come. Sure, you’re not attached to this universe, you don’t shoulder any real responsibilities, there’s no need to feel any guilt. But you cannot bear to hurt her, the person who is all too real in front of you.

“So are humans,” you add on hesitantly, wondering if it’s right to speak up when she’s in the middle of voicing her own worries. “A-are you ready?” Your cotton-filled mouth manages to stumble something coherent out, though you wince at the next words. “To marry Min Yoongi.”

“I don’t have a choice, ready or not. It is my duty to marry him.” Anything less of that would ruin her reputation, soil her family name. After all, her own family was the one who forced her into this position, and they would never accept her back if anything else happened. It’s a life of suffering. “I cannot run away.”

You speak nothing, uttering no syllables. Merely, you force your fingers to stop quivering and you fix her up-do as best as you can before she takes over, polishing the flyaways and sitting back when you place the pins back into her tightly knotted strands.

Once it’s complete, you step away.

Lady Yeonhwa is the one that parts her lips to whisper first- “Y/N, have I wronged you in any way?”

Your blood runs to ice. “Pardon?”

The young girl turns in her seat, eyes desperately reading yours. “I’ve been gracious to you since the day you set foot into our manor. We lived together, grew up together. I shared the same bed as you for many years, and we learnt how to read, write, together. I love you like a sister born from the same parents and I know lately, lately, we haven’t been as close. I’ve been distant to you, cold, but let me make one request.”

She drops down to her knees. Your eyes widen. If you knew anything about this girl that you created with your own hands and thoughts, it’s that she never begged anyone.

“Lady Yeonhwa—”

“I have no one.” She faces the ground. “My parents, my brothers, they’ve all left me. I’ve been sold to the royal family and I know it won’t take long before I’ll be thrown away again. He’ll find a million other concubines in place of me. I’m nothing but a pawn, but…but, Y/N, I—”

There’s scattered footsteps outside of the door, rattling the frame. “The Crown Prince awaits.”

The doors burst open and it’s Min Yoongi, the person you’ve been waiting for.

Except, this time, you don’t want to be taken away by him. Still, he marches forward, without giving the other woman in the room a single glance, grabbing onto your wrist and leading you outside. “W-wait—” you stutter, but he stops you.

“We need to talk, Y/N. Like, now.”

The four guards don’t ask any questions, even if he’s of royal status, personally talking to a lowly maid like you. In the story, he’s the prince and his word is final. And as you’re dragged away, you turn your head one last time, catching a glimpse of Yeonhwa, how she’s still bowing on the ground and how tears have begun to trickle from her lash line. The doors shut.

“Thank God you’re here.” Once he’s lead you to the secluded gardens, Yoongi turns and embraces your body, pulling you close until your chest is pressed against his. A broken gasp spills from your lips and your hands tremble, lifting to return the touch, grasping at him.

You clutch him close, like he’s your only lifeline. Your nose digs into the crook of his neck and you hold back a heart wrenching sob. One question rings inside your mind: why is it so difficult to have him close to you?

“I missed you,” he murmurs and you nod, weakly humming a single note.

You were taken away so abruptly from him. One moment, his eyes had grown wide when you grabbed a hold of the collar of his shirt, and the next, you had dissipated from his grasps. As disappointing as it is to Yoongi for leaving the wonderful world of Hogwarts, there are more pressing matters at hand.

“I missed you too.” It stings when you pull away, an itch underneath your flesh that screams for you to hold onto him before he’s taken from you.

You both face each other and a smile finds its way up your lips when you see how well he is in this place. He looks healthy, dressed adequately, hat and blue robes with the emblem of a dragon on his clothes. In contrast, you are the complete opposite, weak and feeble. Yoongi could feel your bones when he hugged you close and to see you in such a state, it’s painful.

“Y/N—” He holds your hand, his furrowed brows marring his face. “We…..I...I’m getting married in a few hours.”

You suck in a breath, swallowing down the thick lump in your throat. “I know.”

“Well, we need to think of something now. Fictional or not, I can’t marry someone I don’t know.” His voice is quiet but urgent, stressed with a hint of panic. He sweeps your blank features, confused as to your strange composure. “We need to run away.”

You and Yoongi, it would never work. At least, not in this universe. It was far too forbidden.

You tear your gaze away. “We can’t.”

“What do you mean we can’t? What are we supposed to do then? What is the ending supposed to be?” When you don’t respond, he begins to piece it together himself. In his historical setting, if you’re a maid, and he’s a prince-

“I’m right, aren’t I? We need to run away together.”

You shake your head, letting go of him to ball your fists together. “I...can’t do that, Yoongi.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Give me a good reason why not.”

“This entire time, we’ve been doing things without any major consequences. We had no responsibilities, not attachments, no empathy but that girl in there.” You stare into his eyes, unwavering and you point back to the small home. “That girl that you’re supposed to marry, I can’t hurt her like I’m supposed to.”

He doesn’t understand. “What?”

“She...she’s important to me.” His gaze becomes too much and you turn away, facing the endless sky that seems more like a prison and less like freedom. “I..I wrote her after my first breakup. She is everything that I’ve always wanted to be. She’s the reason why I became serious about writing. She is the first character that my heart ever ached for and I...I can’t hurt her like I planned.”

“So, what are we supposed to do? Are you going to watch me marry her? Are we going to be stuck in this universe?” His stare bores holes into your skin. Yoongi’s voice nearly gives out as it drops into a murmur. “Are you going to give up on me so easily?”

You sigh. “Yoongi.”

“Y/N, I...I—” His features are contorted into distress. It seems like there’s something he wants to say, something that he’s been craving and aching to let loose, but he’s unable to let it tumble out. “Never mind. Just...think about what to do then. We still have some time.”

Without much else, he spins around and leaves. His entourage of guards and other servants soon follow and you watch as his silhouette fades into the environment. For some reason, your chest twinges in a dull pain.

It seems like no matter what choice you make, it’s bound to hurt someone.

Anger pulsates through his veins. Each of his strides carries a heavy weight, booming against the gravel and then the floorboards. The servants bow their heads lower, affected by the darker aura of the crown prince. Min Yoongi does not understand you and he never will.

After all you’ve both been through, the countless realms and circumstances, the strife and fight to return to reality, you were so ready to throw away. But he finds himself less furious and more frustrated—the expression written across your visage is one that he has never witnessed before.

He has known you for years, pulled apart the meaning of your earnest words written in the most lonely of times, been by your side through lifetimes, but he does not know you. Truly.

The man has never known your tears, your sadness, your suffering. He only knows of your rage and the small glimpses of happiness. And to see you in such a state, broken and weary, tired and drained, he is frustrated to the point of ire. There is nothing he can do, no way to mend your wounds.

“Your highness,” a croaking voice interrupts his trance, and he turns towards the elder speaking. The guards stand down and Yoongi supposes the stranger must be a royal advisor of sorts. “Why do you appear so grim? Do you not know today is your wedding celebration?”

He scoffs. “No, it isn’t.”

An amused smile takes place on the old man’s lips, and he settles down on the stone bench by the tree of the courtyard. “But it clearly is. Tonight, you will wed to Lady Yeonhwa and the country will be united again. Eventually, she will become your empress and bear a son who will someday be crowned Emperor as well.”

The way this elder smiles, a mischievous glint in his irises, the corners of his lips turned upwards, it reminds Yoongi of his boss, Jeon Jungkook. But the latter man was never this eloquent and astute despite having a full time job as the head of a publishing company. The young kid was always a bit erratic and panicked, rather than composed. Even so, the man before Yoongi just seems to echo his boss uncannily.

Yoongi doesn’t care about this universe. Unlike you, he has no connection or attachments to these people and as unprincely as it may be, he continues to himself, brash and angry.

“I won’t marry her, whoever she is. Why should I?” He inhales a sharp breath. “I don’t love her.”

The advisor stares at him. “Then who do you love?”

There’s a silence.

“Love is indeed fickle.” The elder says, looking up towards the cirrus clouds and soaking in the sunlight through his wrinkled skin, skin that has touched thunderstorms and hurricanes, blizzards and scorching droughts. “It changes and alters with time. You can grow to love someone, fall out of love with someone, learn to utilize love as a weapon. How do you think it’s possible to that matrimony can unify countries, make one stronger and prevent warfare?”

“You will learn to love Lady Yeonhwa. Over time, the partnership can easily alter into affection and infatuation. It’s your duty to marry her — for the better of our people and the kingdom.” The elder smiles at the grimacing prince whose patience is running thin. “You are no ordinary boy. You are the prince. Your selfish wants must be sacrificed.” He chuckles and somehow it oddly reminds Yoongi of someone familiar, “You’ve probably heard this all your life, haven’t you?”

“But child, to me, you are not simply bounded to your noble title. You are a boy I have tended to since the dawn of time. You are Min Yoongi.” The call of his name has his attention snapped back into focus. In the short time he’s been in this place, no one has called him directly, except for you and now, this old man who stares directly into his eyes in an unwavering and unsettling manner.

“And if you make no mistake and truly bear the feelings of love towards another, take it before it’s gone and hold it close to you. While love cannot overcome all barriers, it makes it easier to uphold to suffering, and only the universe knows how much suffering there is.”

For the most part, Yoongi is unfazed by the inspirational pep-talk by some random man that is apparently like his adopted grandfather in this realm. But there’s still a part that resonates within him, tugging his chest, and he clears his throat. “Are you suggesting I run?”

“I would never, your highness. The Emperor and Empress would immediately skin me alive and boil me upside down if I urged you to go against your duties.” There’s a playful sparkle in his irises. “I am merely speaking about your innermost feelings, am I not?”

A noncommittal noise leaves the back of Yoongi’s throat.

The advisor continues on with a mindless ramble, “There is no fault with feeling. Sometimes we are the most human when we are devoid from thought and simply feel.”

“You’re pretty wise, aren’t you, Jungkook?”

“I am,” the old man quips back at him playfully and stares at the profile of the prince as he settles down beside him. Yoongi isn’t sure which part of the question the man is responding to. “And you aren’t the boy I taught, are you?”

Yoongi’s caught off guard and the elder merely chuckles, saying nothing else.

On the other side of the palace grounds, your fingers are quick at work, knees bruised from kneeling on the ground. “Will you hurry up?!”

The head-maid barks and you fumble, tugging the fabrics tighter to hug against the lady’s body. A pained exhale leaves her lungs and you wince apologetically, trying your best to quicken your pace. The wedding attire is gorgeous, silk reds and golden flowers imprinted into the skirt and sleeves. Compared to your own clothes, you are nothing.

There are other maids, younger and older, who are swarming Yeonhwa. They fix any loose strand of hair, keeping her locks wrapped tightly against her skull with heavy pins digging into her head. Jewels and rings adorn each of her fingers, precious stones hanging off her ears. The clothes begin to drown her frame and although she is otherworldly beautiful-

“Take it off!”

She screams and shrieks, beginning to cry in front of the full-length mirror. The younger girls are startled, stepping back and immediately, the middle-aged head maid comes over in hasty steps. “My lady, we mustn't. The wedding is in a three hours, and we have to prepare.”

“I don’t care!” She begins to hyperventilate and without further instructions, you begin to undo the layers and layers. The young girl continues to have her meltdown, crying and weeping, heaving in breaths. “I need to get out of this! I need to!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you mutter, attempting to placate her. The other woman is baffled and watches as you undo the efforts of the past half-hour, calming Yeonhwa as you slowly begin to untie the laces of her corset. The court ladies try to approach you again, but know better than to go against your actions as you slowly remove layer by layer of satin and silk until Yeonhwa is left in nothing but a simple white slip dress. You even release her hair from the tight knots and braids, pulling out clips and ribbons, jewels and the daffodil flower hair pins. It helps - at least visibly, she seems to have stopped shaking.

Once she’s completely freed, she turns around to snatch your hand within her own. “I need a bath. Y/N will accompany me, do not bother us.”

None of them argue, not when they’re afraid of upsetting someone who will soon be crowned Princess, then Empress. So, she turns towards the bathhouse and you barely have the time to bow your head slightly towards the other women.

In silence, you draw her a warm bath in the wooden tub, filling it slowly, bucket by bucket. You hold her hand, coaxing her into it, and she eases, a shallow exhale spilling from her lips with the temperature of the water. As you dip your fingers in, you hiss, the heat scorching and soothing all at once.

“Are you feeling any better, your highness?” You ask gently, reaching over to dip a soft hand-towel in the water. The fabric slowly absorbs the water, and you gently drag it along the skin of the princess.

She frowns. “Don’t call me by that title,” she orders sternly before becoming gentler. “Please, not here, Y/N. If no one else, I can at least be straightforward with you.”

You nod, but she isn’t even looking at you, so you hope she takes the silence as acceptance. You don’t really know what else to say, know if bringing up the wedding, Yoongi, anything, is appropriate. It feels wrong to want to mention him. So, you keep your lips pressed firmly together as the water sloshes around her body and the tub. You lightly scrub, admiring the suppleness of her youthful skin, but at the same time, there’s a kind of pity inside you that is inerasable.

Almost, you think that the remainder of her bath will be spent in silence, but then she speaks up. “I’ve always envied you.”

It’s no slip of the tongue. It sounds like a confession, an earnest secret hidden in the depths of her mind for as long as she could muster before letting it slip out, tumbling from her mouth like vomit. She sounds pained.

You freeze. “What?”

Yeonhwa sighs, like she’s regretting ever opening her mouth. “You have everything that I don’t,” she tells you sadly. “Freedom. Hope. Love.” The final word sounds as though it’s being wretched from her throat. Sounds like a plea, a cry for help.

Coming from the soon-to-be Princess, of all people, it catches you off guard. They are words you never thought you’d hear. At least, not from her. To you, she has everything. Even Yoongi.

It’s absurd. It’s ridiculous. “But… but Yeonhwa… you’re dignified. Confident. You’re…” You’re fumbling for the right words. Yeonhwa is everything you’ve ever wanted to be, and more. “You’re beautiful.”

She scoffs bitterly. “And you think that means anything? My grace, my beauty, they are meaningless. I have no one.” You feel like you need to say something, tell her anything, but she continues without ceasing. “That won’t change. I live alone, and I will die alone. I am alone.”

It’s strange, chilling. It’s as if she’s already aware of her destiny, aware of the ending you’ve written for her. Like she knows that you’ve created her only to abandon her in the end, leave her in favor of the protagonist you’re meant to care about.

Without even realizing it, your vision has begun to blur. You find yourself kneeling on the hard stone floor as if you’re begging for her forgiveness, atoning for your sins. It’s peculiar. Strange. You feel as though you’re having an out-of-body experience, like you’re watching a mirror image of yourself. Because in a way, you are. You’ve written Yeonhwa to reflect yourself, your beliefs. That was the whole damn point. She is you, and you are her.

You had always thought you’d die alone. But watching it now, seeing your thoughts play out in front of you, it feels different. It feels like there’s something that needs changing.

“That’s not true,” you say softly, even if you can’t believe it yourself.

“How is it not, maid?” Her voice is cold, distant, emotionless.

For years, you had thought this way, felt as though you were hopelessly lost, hopelessly alone. Nobody would love you, nobody would help shoulder your hardships, your pain. No matter how many stories you create, how many characters you build and come to know, how many fantasies you construct, how many universes you see, you have always woken up alone, nothing more than a laptop beside you or a pen in your hand, the static of your screens the only noise other than the thumping in your head.

You have always been alon-

“You’re wrong,” you find yourself saying, mustering up as much courage as you can. She turns to you, a doubtful look lacing her expression. “You have me.”

You were never alone. You aren’t alone. You’ll never be alone. There has always been someone there for you, time and time again, a certain someone who broke down your door with wine in his hand, who invaded your space with minute smiles and sneaky grins, who knew you and your writing, your words, better than you ever have, who has travelled with you across galaxies, across timelines.

His name is Min Yoongi.

And you had never been on your own. Yoongi would never have let you. He’d always be there, bothering you every step of the way.

You could hardly imagine a world, at this point, where he wouldn’t be by your side.

“Y/N…” Yeonhwa says softly, trailing off into nothingness.

“And you deserve love, Yeonhwa. More than you know,” you tell her firmly, blinking away the water in your eyes as you reach over to embrace her, pulling her in tight. The droplets on her back seep into the thin fabric that covers your body but you can’t find it in you to care. “Never give up on that. It’s waiting for you, you know? It’s out there. You have me, so don’t think, for even a second, that you’re alone. I’ll always be here.”

She grins softly, mostly to herself. “And what happens when you leave?”

Yeonhwa knows.

“I’ll still be here,” you promise, and it’s a promise you can keep but only because you’ve hand-stitched this world together, built it brick by brick. You know it like the back of your hand, have walked through space and time in these universes. Even though you’ll vanish, watch your surroundings disintegrate before your eyes, you know she’ll never forget you. You know that your presence will remain, long after you do not.

“No matter where you or I go, I’ll always be right by your side,” you tell her.

Yeonhwa chuckles to herself softly, shaking her head. “How is it that I can believe you so easily?”

“Because it’s true,” you solemnly vow. “I’ll never leave you.”

Yeonhwa hums to herself, like she’s thinking of what to say next. Maybe your characters, Yeonhwa and this maid, have grown up together, watched each other mature into the young ladies you are now, but you, you as a person, as a traveller, you feel like you have a greater connection. You forged her out of your own insecurities, molded together a character that is everything you’ve ever wanted and everything you’ve ever been. Being with her is like being with you, a version of you that you are slowly beginning to realize, has it all wrong. You wish you could go back in time, tell yourself that you aren’t alone, that there will always be somebody by your side. Being with her is like watching your insecurities blossom into a real human being, a girl who is just as scared as you once were, and now, you want to fix that.

“Then go.”

“What?” You inquire, looking into her deep brown eyes. “Go?”

You pull away from her, but not because you’ve been repelled, or because she’s told you to. You can recall the original ending—remember how Yeonhwa is supposed to turn bitter and resentful, hatred overwhelming her once forgiving being, but in present time, her soft smile says nothing of the sort. In fact, it appears to be the opposite.

“There’s no one I would rather be happy for than you,” she admits. “You love him, don’t you?”

You don’t even have to say his name to know who she’s talking about.

Slowly, you find yourself nodding.

“If what you say is true, then I suppose I have no reason to be lonely,” she tells you, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. She’s letting both you and the only person she once believed would ever grow to love her go?

That wasn’t part of the original script.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you mutter out, unable to formulate something better to say. You feel as though you at least owe her an apology for writing her like this, for letting her turn into someone who can hardly see the color in a rainbow. You have no other words, nothing but sympathy for her, for a girl that once was meant to mirror you but no longer does.

She shakes her head. “No need to apologize. Go to Yoongi. He must be waiting for you.”

“Don’t you want help with draining your bath?” You ask, a final offer for any extra help. It’s sort of like a last request, like the last line in this chapter of your life.

She sighs, perfectly content with wading in the water until someone else comes and orders her return. Finally, she is at peace. “I’m alright.”

You nod, getting up and dusting off your cotton dress. There are no more words left to say, not as you open the door to her room to begin your a new quest to find him.

“Y/N?” She calls out. You turn around, meeting her eyes for a final time. She beams. “Thank you.”

It sounds like she’s not only thanking you for teaching her to love herself, she’s thanking you for being there. For creating her, for allowing her to live truly and freely and independently. You grin in response before walking from the room, letting the door shut softly behind you.

It turns out, finding the man in question isn’t as difficult as you thought it would be.

The grand palace grounds are a maze in and of themselves but nothing far from Hogwarts and it isn’t confusing to navigate considering there’s a horde of people surrounding the crown prince. They’re all trying to placate him, following along like tiny minions as he paces the courtyard, refusing to put on any wedding attire or even nibble on any of the food that’s to be served in the evening.

“Your highness,” one of the men bows his head and speaks gruffly, “the Empress will not be happy if you don’t begin your wedding preparations.”

“I don’t care,” he growls out, snapping back at them with the stringency of Mafia Leader Yoongi that you still remember. The memory brings a slight smile to your face and you take a step forward from the shadows.

“Yoon—”

Before you can even call his name, you’re being yanked back. “What do you think you’re doing, maid?!”

A man has ripped you back, practically screaming in your face and his spit splattering on your skin. Once the guard takes a good look at you, his grip loosens. “Wait a minute, aren’t you the personal servant of Lady Yeonhwa? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?”

“I..uh—”

You’re scared, a little stunned and unnerved that you’ll be taken some place elsewhere that someone of your status would belong, dragged far from Yoongi who’s waiting for you only a few paces away. But there’s not a chance to make a squeak in front of the looming guard or plead your case, not when there’s a ear-shattering shout.

“Y/N!” He saw you. There’s no reason to be afraid. It’s okay to trust him. “Let her go this instant, you idiot!”

The guard is shocked from the prince’s vulgarities and immediately jumps back, releasing his hold on you. The parade of attendants and officiants barely get to trail after him as Yoongi marches up to you, a stupidly happy grin spreading across his face. “Y/N! Finally! I was waiting for you. Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine.” You smile meekly, lowering your head as the crowd of men are staring daggers into your form. Yoongi seems to sense your unease almost instinctively, and he turns around with narrowed eyes.

“Why are you all still standing here?!” He hisses with his ultimate pissed-off-bitch-resting-face and it causes you to stifle back a laugh. It seems like Yoongi’s ran out of patience with the overbearing servants. “Can’t you see I’m trying to have a private conversation?!”

“But your highness,” one of them pipes up out of desperation, “We really, really need to get you prepared for the wedding. There’s a lot to do and you haven’t even gotten dressed—”

All it takes is for Yoongi to glare.

His dark brown eyes almost turn black, a muscle in his cheek twitching, his jaw clenching and teeth grating together. They scatter immediately, some reluctant and others out of fear.

Finally, you’re left with alone with Yoongi.

It takes a second for you to regain full consciousness of your surroundings. You’re gazing at him with a new-found perspective, a sort of appreciation for his presence even if he annoys you to no end and likes to provoke you for his enjoyment. You have an urge to reach up and kiss his cheek. But of course, you haven’t lost all your brain cells…yet.

“Is there something on my face?”

“No.” You shake your head. “It’s just your ugliness is really showing today.”

His eye twitches and you hold back your giggle, ultimately failing. “Don’t blame me if I end up punching you in the face.”

“Hey, I’m just kidding, you know.” You hit him in a playful manner, one that would probably get your hand severed off by a guillotine if anyone else were to witness in this universe. But alas, this is not a poor maid and the crown prince. It’s you and Yoongi.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes and grinning. The pair of you are put at ease for the first time since being in this place. It finally feels like its return back to normal, the little banters and quips, the endless teasing that feels more playful than before when malice was laced in every other syllable.

“Did you think of a solution yet?” Yoongi asks. “These people are really insistent and it’s driving me up the goddamn wall. I really don’t want to marry someone, Y/N. I know it’s fictional and all that but it still feels weird. If I get tied to them, I swear if they come back to our ‘reality’ and they haunt me, I’m seriously going to kill y—”

“Let’s run.”

“Run?” His infamous gummy grin returns, plastering across his face like the fool that he is. “Are you sure? Thought you were against my idea. So, I guess this is my chance to say ‘I told you so’?”

You snort, beginning to pull him along, opposite of the courtyard and into an empty hallway. “Shut up, dork.”

“Do you even know where we’re going?”

“Nope.”

He laughs but still trusts you to lead the way. It works for a while, navigating the grounds and deflecting any of the noble guests who have come for the ceremony. You even catch the Empress at some point, a distinguished older woman that is supposedly is Yoongi’s mother in this realm and you make sure to sprint in the opposite direction.

“We just need to find a horse or a carriage or something.” You vaguely remember the details of the ending, just that you needed to escape but going by feet would certainly be futile. “Do you—”

Suddenly, Yoongi tugs you in towards his chest, hugging you close and spinning his body around to hide behind a wooden pillar. You make muffled noises against the palm of his hand, something along the lines of ‘what the fuck’ but he reaches down, shushing you against your ear and his breath against your nape has you sealing your lips.

“Have you seen the crown prince?!”

“No! Where did he go?! The Emperor is calling for him!”

“He was just talking to the maid girl, and then they both disappeared when we turned around!”

“What the—” There’s a pause and their steps get closer. You gulp, trying to steal a peek but Yoongi doesn’t let you, shuffling your bodies away from the naggy attendants. “Well search for him quickly and quietly! If it gets out that the groom is missing, there’s gonna be big trouble!”

“Oh dear, oh dear!” There are notes of panic within their voices but it thankfully fades off.

Once it becomes silent, Yoongi wraps his hand around yours, lacing his fingers together. He takes one glance both ways and the two of you book it. You do your best to keep your steps quiet, huffs leaving your mouth as you rip down hallways and the outside, hiding in the shadows, past guards and guests alike. There’s already music being played to welcome the nobility, drums and a wooden flute, a singer using their powerful vocals in a trot style.

And eventually, by sheer chance and luck, an opening is seen.

“Hey, Y/N,” he whispers while you’re both hidden behind a tree. “Can you ride a horse?”

“No.” You look at him. “Can you?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Nadda.”

Well shit. But there’s no other choice, no possible solution, at least not when he decides there’s no more discussion needed and begins to pull you out into broad daylight.

Instantly, a guard is hopping onto the scene, shouting, “Hey!”

The two female aristocrats gasp. “Is that Prince Yoongi?!” And they’re more appalled that he’s touching a dirty, lowly maid like you. But there’s no time to think.

It’s absolute mayhem.

One second, you have a fistful of your dress, sprinting full speed and the next, Yoongi’s lead you to climb on top of the horse. The coachman was shoved to the ground, landing with an ‘oof’ and saying no more as he watched the prince struggle to clamber up after you.

“Hee-yah!” The man behind you whips the reins but the horse doesn’t move, still munching on some grass that he found on the side of the dirt road. “Hee-yah! Move, you fucking animal!”

“Yelling it is not gonna help!” You shout back at him in panic and pet the creature with a gentle hand, attempting to coax it. “Giddy up, horsey.”

Still, the pony tortures you both, standing as still as a statue, fluffy tail whirling in the air like the blades of a mini-helicopter

“Prince Yoongi!” There are more shouts, guards who rush over with spears and the entire horde of stubby servants and minion attendants are hysterically chasing after the two of you. “Prince Min Yoongi! Crown Prince Yoongi! Please! Your father is looking for you! The wedding! The wedding—!”

“Come on, come on!” Yoongi says, trying his very best to egg the horse on before the palace staff catch up. “Move, goddamnit! Move!”

The servants are shrieking. The attendants are scampering. They get closer and closer while the guests are still shell-shocked from his vulgarities, merely watching the chaos. But as the guard with their pointed weapons approach, suddenly, the horse puffs out air through its nose.

A fingertips reach away from snatching you, the horse begins to dart.

You nearly break your neck, getting whiplash and Yoongi screams behind you, holding the reins and his other arm wrapping around your waist to keep you from falling. The old horse on the other hand is free from dragging along a two hundred pound carriage and tears through the dirt roads, past guards and servants who shout after Yoongi on the top of their lungs.

The wild animal kicks down the small red gate doors and bounds towards the empty, open road towards the forest.

The palace is left behind you.

A giggle spills from your lips and eventually, you have the courage to loosen your grip from the animal. The wind weaves into your hair, kissing against your cheeks and reddening them with the rush. It’s glorious.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to think the same. “Wh...at t..he f-fuck—” He’s let you take the reins, instead, holding you with both his arms, his eyes shut tight in fear and his head hiding in the crook of your neck.

You cackle and shout above the whistling winds, “Should we go faster, Min?!”

“No!” He cries softly into your skin, “Stop teasing me!”

“I think we’re gonna need to go faster!” You whip the reins, laughing and taking a look back to make sure a new mob of guards aren’t hot on your heels. Thankfully, it seems like you’re safe for now. “I just robbed the groom from the alter, I want to make sure I don’t get caught!”

He lightly pinches your side, causing another fit of giggles from you. “I’m seriously going to kill you when I get off this thing!”

“I’d like to see you try!”

Who knows how long you’re galloping into the wilderness for, horse’s hooves marking into the dirt, causing a puff of dust to be left behind in your trail. The forest becomes thicker until the path has diminished into grass and the trees are all you see, canopies covering the evening sky and orange light filtered through the lush greenery. You eventually slow down, stopping to a halt a little ways off.

You jump off the creature, barely with Yoongi’s iron grip still around you. With a hand held up high, he pouts before he takes it, hopping off too. You pet the horse, running your fingers through its mane and thanking it for taking you so far. It even nuzzles into you, causing a snickering laugh to leave your chest and Yoongi watches, waiting patiently.

“What’s the plan, princess?”

It’s an ironic pet name considering your current status but you don’t mind. Hand-in-hand, you’re walking through the bushes on the forest floor and you take a moment to steal a glimpse of Yoongi, smiling. “We run a little bit more before they can catch up. You trust me?”

He returns the smile. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

There’s one more exchanged laughter and then you’re leaping through the forest, following lights and listening to the birds. Any sounds created by other humans fade into nature’s background and soon, you’ve found yourself at a clearing, an open field that will lead you to the border of the country.

It’s freedom.

Yoongi clasps his palm tight against yours. You intertwine your fingers together, laughing and making the last sprint. He follows alongside you, giddy with excitement and holding you close to him. While he abandons his dutiful matrimony, a new promise of marriage is on the horizon.

The ending to the story is finally fulfilled and the universe morphs to white.

Writers notes: Once again, please feel free to message me or gukyi at any time!! Any message is worthwhile. The next part will be posted over at gukyi’s blog, so, check out her awesome-sauce stuff!

CO-WRITTEN WITH @gukyi

#bts fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #bts scenario #bts scenarios #i'd like to think of this series as an elevator #ever chapter and every world we go up another level #anyways i think the next chapter is my favourite one!!! WOO!!

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dat-town · 7 years ago

Text

Charm me

Characters: Slytherin troublemaker!Jae & Hufflepuff prefect!You

Setting: Hogwarts AU

Genre: fluff, humour

Summary: Secrets don’t exist in a castle full of speaking paintings. (Aka they know about your little crush and won’t shut up about it.)

Word count: 3.7k

For the September @day6imagines task, school prompt.

Good girls falling in love with bad boys is such a cliché, right?

Of course, you know that Slytherins aren’t bad by nature and certainly not all of them turns out to be one but Jae Park can, undeniable, be a pain in the ass. He’s sassy and cocky, a real trickster and troublemaker. Not even the headmaster can stop him. You, as a Hufflepuff prefect, had your fair share of running into him after curfew...

(“Hey prefie, whatcha doing?” he greeted you with a beaming smile. You frowned.

“My job, patrolling but I can’t say the same about you.”)

Or catching him using charms and spells he definitely shouldn’t.

(“Why would anyone give legs to a pot of petunias? Now, it’s running around!” you sighed exasperatedly but he just laughed it off.

“Exactly.”)

However, you also heard that he tells younger students scary stories about monsters in the Forbidden Forest that attack rebellious children just to keep them away from trouble and you found it endearing when he takes the blame for something he didn’t do. He’s a light-hearted and careless jokester, too cheeky for his own good, though his jokes are mostly harmless. You, on the other hand, like rules and actually follow them. They must be rules for a good reason after all, right? Then why is your gaze always wandering around the Slytherin table in the Great Hall?

It all started last Christmas, during the Hogsmeade visit you couldn’t attend because you had to make sure that those who stayed in the castle didn’t cause any problem. It’s not like you haven’t been in the nearby village before, it just would have been nice to have a glass of butterbeer or something sweet in the cold, snowy weather instead of walking around in the empty hallways. But you always did your job without complaining and that day wasn’t an exception.

While strolling up and down the corridors, you only ran into a few first and second years who haven’t travelled back home for the holidays. Since they couldn’t go out of the castle yet, most of them wandered around in the unusual quietness or had fun in the snow outside. It shouldn’t have surprised you to meet with Jae too because he was prohibited from the visits as a punishment. If you recalled correctly, it was for the stunt he pulled last year: he conjured dozens of sparrows during the End-of-Term Feast and caused quite a big rufus. So yeah, he wasn’t allowed to go for the trips in Hogsmeade in his last year. Yet, he suspiciously approached the entrance of a secret passage that the previous prefects warned you about, the one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy.

“Hey, where are you going?” you called after him, only urging the boy to go faster but eventually, he stopped in his tracks.

“Out,” he turned towards you with that characteristic, lopsided smile of his and replied simply, without any sense of regret or shame. He was truly one of a kind.

“You can’t if you are not on the list or have a written permit of leave,” you recited the regulations you were taught over the years but it still didn’t dishearten Jae at all.

“Have you seen a single paper stopping me before?”

You frowned at his reluctant behaviour while pointing your wand at him in case he’s trying to play it dirty. “I can’t let you go.”

Still as unfazed as ever, the boy pouted.

“Oooh prefie, but it’s Christmas. Doesn’t it warm your heart a little? Shouldn’t Hufflepuffs be nice and all?” he whined, flattering his eyelashes behind his round glasses. His ash blonde hair cutely stuck to his forehead decorated by snowflakes and instead of warm, it made your heart weak. Since when did you associate him with cuteness? Gosh, this boy! Who did he think he was?

“Fine,” you sighed but couldn’t believe you were actually agreeing to it. Maybe it’s the holiday spirit but it would have saddened you to see him all alone in the castle while all his friends were in the village. What trouble could he get into there anyway? “Go before I change my mind. And don’t you dare get caught!”

“Gotcha,” he flashed you a dazzling smile and made finger guns at you with a wink.

You quickly turned on your heels but already felt your cheeks on fire in this cold, cold weather.

The following day you found a box of creamy chunks of nougat and a large barrel of Every Flavour Beans on your bedsheet.

“What’s this?” you pointed to the yummy desserts in confusion and looked around in the room you share with several other Hufflepuff girls.

“Oh, Jae asked me to give them to you,” one of them answered casually like it was no big deal, something that happened every single day. But no, you don’t usually get gifts from boys and especially not from boys like Jae. Knowing him you thought it might be a prank. Of course, he would do something like this. Just to confuse you a bit more. Jae was infamous for his unreasonable acts. Buying thank you gifts for you in Honeydukes but not talking to you later? Who heard of such thing? So your first reaction was suspicion and you avoided the chocolate for days before finally, giving in and deciding to give it a taste. The nougat melted in your mouth like it was made of dreams… just perfect. Without any tricky after-effect.

That’s how it all started and nothing has changed in the last five months. Nothing at all, so you think this day is going to be just like any other. But oh boy, you are wrong!

Your Potions professor is famous for his unique teaching methods like offering a bit of serums as a prize for the most excellent students. The task is easy: to find the happiness serum out of seven foiled liquids that contain harmless potions. The trick is that when you think you are sure of your choice, you have to drink the chosen one no matter what.

You are so so sure you got the right one but as soon as your tongue touches the bitter liquid, you realize the mistake you made. Silly you mixed up the descriptions of the peppermint smell of Veritaserum and the Elixir of Euphoria, so you drank the wrong poison, one of the worst, not deathly kinds. The truth serum.

"For those who worry, the effect will wear off in maximum of a couple of hours," the professor says calming down a girl who has had elephant ears grown.

It doesn’t help you stay calm either.

"What’s up with you? You don’t seem happy," your best friend, waiting for you in front of the door, nudge your shoulder when you leave the basement classroom and you can’t help but snap at him:

“Of course, I’m not happy. I messed it up, so badly. Over a stupid mistake. I was so sure though, I had everything written down...” you’re rambling like you never do but everything you say is honest and that’s the worst because even before Brian could interrupt you, you suddenly freeze in the middle of the sentence, your gaze following a figure who just stepped out of the Slytherin Dungeon.

"Okaaay… then what got you all smiley suddenly?" Brian asks utterly confused while nervously scratching the back of his neck. He probably doesn’t know what to do with you now because usually you’re not this blatant and impulsive. Or the type to have sudden mood swings from mad to dreamy in the matter of seconds.

Normally, you would have shrugged his question off with a Nothing but since you took a sip of a freaking damned truth serum, it just slips your mouth: "Jae just walked by."

Poor Brian, he still doesn’t understand anything.

"Aaand?" he widens his eyes trying to pry further and lucky for him, the potion got you in the mood to talk about literally anything that’s on your mind.

"Have you ever noticed how he always wears his backpack on one shoulder? It makes him walk so cute, a little one-sidedly,” you whisper to the boy never taking your eyes off of the blondish guy’s retreating figure. “And remember that when he made that clumsy mistake with a charm and got his hair pink? He just laughed it off. I admire him for that so much. I would have been so mortified. Like now… Oh my god, why do I keep talking?"

"Oh my Merlin! You have a crush on him!" Brian exclaims a little louder than he should but blame his dumbfounded state. At least it makes you shut up because for a moment, you take control of your brain and chant: don't say it, don't say it, don't say it!

But you say it anyway. "Well yeah..."

"No way," your friend gapes at you in disbelief. He would have never thought he would live that day when you admit something like that out loud, especially if it concerns Hogwarts’ infamous troublemaker. But then another voice chimes in making you both jump.

"Yes way!" A painting hurrahs, clapping his hands and grinning from ear to ear. He looks Renaissance but apparently he’s certainly modern enough to know what ‘crush’ means. "This is the juiciest romance we have heard since last year’s drama between two profs. A Hufflepuff prefect and a Slytherin mischief-maker. It’s almost like that tragic Verona story our dear old friend, William always cries about."

"Please, please don’t tell anybody about it," you turn to the painting begging, hands intertwined in a prayer.

"Oh but what are gossips for if not for telling?" the man laughs carefreely and steps out of his frame into another painting until he disappears from your sight completely.

So yeah. By the time the serum’s effect wears off, the whole castle, at least every painting and probably most of the ghosts know about your crush. Great!

Between these old stone walls your little puppy love can’t be kept in secret for long. Hogwarts is a place where even walls have ears. Okay, maybe not the walls, but the paintings that hang on the walls certainly have, so same thing. You really don’t appreciate the teasing of the middle-aged, thick accented man in the common room, nor that lady’s nagging every single time you walk to your Astronomy class. But of course they can’t shut up, so Jae is ought to get to know about your interest in him soon.

“Oooh, have you told him yet? Does he know?” she singsongs and you keep hissing at her to keep quiet:

“Shh... Shut up, please!”

It’s only luck that the word of it seemingly didn’t get to Jae. The guy who brought back gifts for you from Hogsmeade and ever since he occasionally hid some sweets - which he most likely got from the kitchen elves - in your robe’s pockets when you weren’t looking. He probably used some kind of a spell because otherwise you would have noticed him. You can’t be sure but maybe that’s his childish way to thank you for not turning him in.

You haven’t seen or much less talked with him properly since that one time. It’s either because you avoided him like plague or that he has been out of trouble for once. Which, let’s be honest, is highly unlikely. Still, you keep lying to yourself saying it’s nothing. Because it is… right?

Days pass, you’re getting closer and closer to N.E.W.T. which throws you on edge most of the time. Especially when you see younger students enjoying the warmer weather instead of hauling themselves into studying like you have to. So maybe, just maybe, you might have snapped at them at the first sign of infringement.

The school year, your last Hogwarts year is almost over. Unbelievable. You liked it here a lot, you liked these trees, the magic in the air and the castle with all of its blabbermouth paintings. Looking back there’s only a tiny pang of regret in your chest that you have never acted on your crazy and unreasonable feelings for the Slytherin boy (because what’s the worst thing that could happen, right?) and now you will have to live with the what ifs for the rest of your life.

Or you thought.

Next Friday, you completely and utterly mess up your Advanced Charms exam and you don’t want to do anything but run to the closest girls’ restroom and cry. You can already feel the tears that are threatening to fall as you rush out of the classroom and out of the way of the professor’s disappointed gaze. That’s when you literally bump into someone in the corridor.

"Sorry," you mumble an apology out of habit, head kept hanging as you want nothing else but hurry along. But something… or rather someone stops you.

"Oh prefie, how did it go?" Jae asks all cheerfully but soon enough he notices your sorrow and his usually gleeful voice turns into something softer than velvet. It’s so soothing, almost comforting. “Hey, what's wrong?”

You pretend not to hear the paintings aww-ing behind you and shake your head.

"I just failed my Charms exam. I won’t get those extra credits I need to get into the Ministry," you sob and blink rapidly in order to prevent the tears from falling. At least, until then you don’t have to look at him and see the pity on his face. Yes, you wanted a boring office work but you can’t even get that.

"Look I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think," Jae keeps shaking his head and you make that mistake to catch a glimpse of him. A horrible slip-up because now you can’t look away from that small, reassuring smile of his.

"Oh but it is. I mistook the wine-making spell with the water-making one and my mug that was supposed to jump and do a backflip simply fell off the table after one try," you explain bitterly your lameness and shrugging as you cast your eyes down. Sure, the non-verbal spells went okay, you suppose, so you maybe get lucky and a Poor or Dreadful mark instead of Troll but that’s still not enough to make it.

"Look, Y/N..." Jae’s voice is so soft when he speaks, it literally takes your breath away. Wow... does he actually know your name? Apparently he does because he’s talking to you while tapping your chin with his index fingers lightly so you would look up at him. His eyes, often filled with mischief, now ever so genuine, rake over your features, settling at your eyes as he continues. "You are the smartest in our year and the best in Charms, I'm sure you only exaggerate this and it wasn’t that bad."

"No, I’m sure I..." You are so ready to protest, to prove him wrong even though his words of compliment still ring in your ears. Does he really think you are that smart?

"Come on, I have an idea," Jae exclaims suddenly and grabs on your hand pulling you towards the end of the corridor. You can’t find it in you to say no to him, so you just let him drag you along while you rub your eyes with your robe’s sleeve and ignore the excited whispers coming from the walls around you.

Neither of you says a word, not until you are out of the castle targeting the woods ahead of you and that’s when you have a bad feeling about where you are heading.

"Are we…” the question dies in your throat as you become more and more certain that your suspicion is right. Your steps halt abruptly as you furrow your brows in a strict manner. “No! I’m not going into the Forbidden Forest with you!"

"Why not? Live a little. There would be no point of expel you now anyway," Jae sighs dramatically, lightly dropping your hand but you still feel the buzz where he touched you.

For a moment you two just stand there, unmoving like statues, staring each other down. Then the boy cracks the most mischievous grin ever and you already know you lost this battle. You never had a chance anyway.

"Or... as a prefect, shouldn’t you stop me from going there? And how are you going to do that without following me?" he’s provoking you and you know that as you watch him getting further into the woods. You should just call the Keeper of Keys and Grounds but his words stuck in your head. Live a little. It doesn’t matter anymore, right?

You let out a frustrated sigh and take a deep breath before setting a foot on the path that’s disappearing among the shadows of the eerie forest’s trees. You are only a few steps into the dimmed woodlands when you spot Jae casually leaning to a trunk, arms crossed, seemingly waiting for you.

"I knew you had it in you," he smiles brightly like the Sun when he sees you and you have to look away blushing from his intense stare.

“Come on, this way,” he beckons your closer, leading the way into a deeper part of the forest and you clutch onto your wand as if it was your life-belt. Just as when you are about to ask him jokingly if he wanted to kill you and bury your corpse in the Forbidden Forest, you reach a dark lawn and you forget to breath for a second.

"Oh my... are these unicorn babies?" you blurt out totally swept off your feet as you catch a sight of these golden furred equine creatures. They must be really young since they haven’t changed colour yet and you stare at the playing ponies fondly.

"Yeah," Jae nods, a doting smile adorning his features. He doesn’t even take off his eyes off of you but you are too occupied with that one approaching unicorn to pay attention to him.

"How do you know about this place?" you ask astonished and you dare to tenderly pat the animal’s back when it snuggles close to you.

"I like to hang out here when I want to think."

At the boy’s answer you look up and catch him keeping an eye on you which makes you feel all fuzzy and warm inside. He only smiles wider with which you can do nothing but return with your own shy smile. Somehow there, deep in the forest you two are not a Hufflepuff prefect and Slytherin troublemaker, none of it define you. You are just a girl and a boy laughing a lot, talking about future plans and opportunities until the Sun goes down. You get to know about him more than you have all this time and you feel falling harder than ever. He says he would like to work with Muggle-borns because they are misunderstood but he would also happily do something like Zonko’s Joke Shop. He tells about his non-magical family and how his dad got a job in London before he turned eleven and how surprised but enthusiastic everybody was when they found out that he’s a wizard. He tells you silly jokes, funny stories and so many interesting things about the world outside of the wizarding one you have always known, time really just slips out of your fingers and that a wolf’s (let’s hope it’s not something worse) howling is your cue to head back to the castle.

Going back, Jae persists to escort you right up to the Hufflepuff Basement’s entrance, so that’s where you stand awkwardly, not sure how to say goodbye or what it means at all. The school year is almost over and after that, you will probably go on your separate ways.

"This was really nice. Thank you for bringing me there," you mumble, cheeks furiously red but thank Merlin, he cannot see that in the light of the distant torches. Still, his dark eyes are sparkling, even in the dark.

"You are welcome. I hope you feel better."

A lot better actually, like a literal weight was lifted off of your chest but you miss your chance to tell him this when an impatient voice snaps at your duo, or most precisely him.

"Kiss her, you idiot!"

Jae doesn’t seem too surprised at the painting’s suggestion and while you almost jump out of your skin, he calmly dismisses the idea.

"I will not. I’m a gentleman. I will wait... well, at least until the second date," he smiles at you and oh, it’s so damn cheesy, you can’t believe your ears. Did you fall asleep during studying? Are you dreaming? There’s no way your crush just promised to take you out once again and to kiss you no less!

"So it was a date?"

"It may have been,” he muses a little uncertain this time, eyes searching for yours, hands sweating as he tries to play it off coolly with that confident smile of his. And you think: to hell with fears and insecurities. Live a little.

"Hey Jae... I think I like you," you confess as straightforward as you can and for the smile that spreads on the boy’s face, all teeth and eyes in crescents, it’s worth it.

Even if he’s irritatingly sure of himself when he answers with "I know."

"What?" you blink, taken aback but Jae just shrugs as if it should have gone without saying.

"Otherwise, you wouldn’t let me get away with everything. Oh and maybe a little birdie told me,” he adds in a whisper signalling towards the eavesdropping paintings on the wall.

“I knew it, damn,” you smile and don’t have it in you to be mad. Not even when Jae leans forward, almost only a breath away and your heart skips a beat when his playful voice drops seriously low.

"Do you really think I’m charming?"

You don’t know if it’s the confrontation or his closeness but it makes you bold and you don’t back away or deny the truth.

"You definitely are," you nod a little, sheepishly and in return, Jae gently pecks you on the cheek, wishing you a good night’s sleep with the promise of tomorrow and a lot of another days in the future. You step into the common room with a dreamy smile on your flushed face and a rapidly beating heart.

“Oh the lovebirds!” One of the paintings coos and this time you don’t tell them to shut up.

#day6writersnet #kkreationsnet #day6 jae fluff #day6 jae scenario #hogwarts au #day6 scenarios #day6 fluff #day6 jae oneshot #stories

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gaiabamman · 8 years ago

Text

Linked, chapter 3! “Meet Drama”

Dear All, sorry it took me so long, but here is chapter 3, as promised! You can buy the Kindle book for $3.99 (or get it free through unlimited) here ^_^

If you’re broke, I’ll keep serializing. Paperbacks coming soon!

Warning: some sexual content, not particularly explicit. This chapter is appropriate for 13 yo and up. (One f-bomb.) I am the copyright holder of this material ^_^

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When I hear a hissing sound, I can’t resist the temptation, and standing on the threshold of what will be my place, I open my eyes.

“Cheater,” Drama says, still holding my left hand. Dime chuckles, holding my right.

The bright white space is being filled with ancient trees, draped in lianas, surrounded by a vertical cliff, which delimits my huge new home. Sparks fly from the edge of the emptiness replaced by a starry sky. A stream flows in a myriad of small waterfalls down the rocky formation on the right and across the small meadow in front of us. It’s like a scene straight out of a museum.

The trees grow taller and taller, a big hammock strewn across two of them. Wild flowers populate the grass and a bonfire materializes, popping and crackling. I can hear crickets singing and at least an owl. A stair carves itself into the side of the biggest tree, right behind the fire. White and orange flowers grow above and beneath it, their sweet scent intoxicating. The stairs climb in a circle around the trunk, up until about thirty yurdas from the ground, where a large, white, ceramic-like nest is waiting for me. A feeble light flickers from its round windows.

“Holy mother of Kolia!” Drama exclaims, in awe.

I snap my head from him to Dime, more amazed at their bewilderment than the incredible place that just shaped up in front of me.

I say, “Dime, thanks! This is incredible! I have no idea how—”

Dime turns to me with a huge smile across his face. His hands are on my shoulders as he says, “No, thank you, Nala. This is amazing. I’ve never created something so beautiful. I’m glad you came.”

Drama answers my unspoken question. He says, “Nala, I channeled to Dime what’s inside of you. We were mere tools, but you’re the mind behind this place.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Dime confirms. “But it’s kinda bogus. If I die, you’re all homeless,” he adds in a sing-song voice.

No wonder they care about Earth.

Drama scoots closer to me and nudges me with his arm. “Speaking in human terms, I think I might have just developed a huge crush on you.”

Human terms?

Before I can catch my breath, Dime throws his hands up in the air, leaving. “Fine, play dirty! Say exactly what she wants to hear…” His words are lost down the hallway, but not in my brain. Drama is an empath, he knows exactly what to do and say to get in my pants.

I yell after Dime, “Thanks!”…for the place and the warning. He waves without turning and disappears into a door.

I step inside, on the grass, and turn to Drama. “And, thanks, Drama.” He stares at me, the bonfire reflected in his big brown eyes. He doesn’t move. I push him gently away from the open door. “Goodbye, Drama.”

“Are you sure?” When I start closing the door in his face he adds, “Listen, anything you need, just think of me, close your eyes, and say my name. I’ll hear you, and I’ll come to you.”

“Oh, okay. Does this work with everyone or only you?”

“Only me?” He blatantly lies by ending his answer with an unwarranted question mark. I close the door in his face while he adds, “I can’t lie! It’s another of my virtues!”

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

Leaving Drama behind, literally and figuratively, I step onto the lawn, twinkling with fireflies.

I notice steam hovering above the stream and I lean to put in my fingers; the water is hot and inviting, reflecting the thin scythe of a waxing moon. A tear falls down my cheek, surprising me. Secluded into paradise, I miss the only people who cared for me in the world, Ma and Seria. They forgot me now.

I wipe my face and hop on two stones to cross the stream. I walk by the fire and start to climb the stairs carved in the big tree. My white nest-like home hovers above. The scent of flowers, so foreign to me, causes me to relax. I ascend slowly, one hand skimming the rough, uneven bark, my eyes seeking the stars flickering through the branches.

Eventually, the stairs disappear into the nest. I climb into a hollow space. It’s a candlelit room shaped like the inside of an egg. Occasional holes in its shell, two up high, and one low, like a door, grant access to other oval, smaller spaces. The lower door leads into a pantry stocked with trad-foods, a Dark Times-fashioned stove, and a small wooden table. One of the upper holes in the main room opens like a window onto a higher, smaller space filled with yielding pillows that mold around my body.

This must be my bed.

Nooks in the wall work as shelves and are stocked with clothes: nothing fancy, but clean, new tunics in several colors that are my size, wide butt and all. Tunics are all Cursoi wear anyway. They don’t seem to concern themselves with fashion much. Gorgeous as they are, they don’t need to, or maybe it’s not allowed.

The second upper opening off the main room is filled with steamy water and Dronisia flowers in shades of pink. The water is seeping in and out through cracks that must be directly connected to the cliff and the hot springs. The flowers have fallen from a vine, which climbs in from a window-hole facing the trees outside.

I shed my rags and enter the warm bath. The shadow of the petals flickers against the white-washed walls in the candlelight. I let myself sink in and sigh, appreciating how the water supports the weight of my body. It’s almost like flying. I’ve never had a bath. I dry-cleaned when I had to in the common baths, paying one Uni per minute.

I notice a small blue light on the wall and I wave at it, curious. A huge holo-screen appears on the wall, connecting me to the outernet and filling me with anticipation. All the knowledge of the Interplanetary Coalition is at my fingertips.

I search for anything I can find about Cursoi, but only stumble on fanblogs, gossip, theories about each Cursoi’s skill, and way too many pictures and movies, including several of Lethal f*cking the next girl.

Gross!

It’s hard to look away, but they’re terrible homemade jobs recorded by chicks too stupid to be afraid of repercussions. I can barely see anything. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s not even Lethal. Is it?

Holy Lars! What the Merc am I doing?

I click the outernet off, wondering if anyone will check my browsing history. I erase it, just in case, lean back and try to relax.

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

Finally, exhausted, I lie in my new bed.

This has been the strangest day of my life. So much for my eighteenth birthday. It should feel like a dream, but I am very unsettled. It would be so easy to slip into this life of luxury, to become a Cursoi, one of them. It was so effortless to banter with Drama and Dime earlier, but isn’t this what I always resented Cursoi for? To live a hypocritical life of ease, when everyone else dies prematurely of dehydration, suffering in misery? I am freaking bathing in water!

I felt so much anger for these spoiled, privileged brats. Yet, I don’t think they realize their position. I don’t think they know any reality other than being compliant Cursoi.

Well, dung! I beg to differ.

I’m pretty sure I am the only activist in the making to ever infiltrate the Cursoi headquarters.

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

The following morning I’m in better spirits: I am clean, fed, and have half a mind to study Cursoi to find their weaknesses. I get out of my nest, wearing a very comfortable black tunic, matching pants, and shoes. My hair shines in a thick braid, and my stomach is full for the first time in probably ever.

I open the door onto the common hallway, and I’m surprised to see many Cursoi exiting their places, chatting and joking. Just like yesterday, everyone ignores me, though I do catch a few curious looks aimed my way.

“They’re just following orders,” Drama reminds me, startling me. “Brain didn’t want to put you on the spot.”

Brain? I turn to see Drama, and my mood lifts again. He looks glorious with his messy black hair sort of pulled back with a hair-ring, but I try not to linger on how good he looks, given the knowing smirk spreading wider on his face.

Then I notice Lethal, thankfully way down the aisle. He looks as morose as ever in spite of two (two!) girls on his heels. Leaving. His place. And he’s not even trying to hide it.

“Where the Merc is everyone going?” I ask.

“Classes, then training, just like you,” Drama answers.

I follow him, joining the crowd. The Apprentices in my Unit are about twenty in between boys and girls, mostly around my age. A few seem younger.

“Really? And I just so happened to get out here at the right time?” I ask.

“No. We are all connected. It’s just the way it is.”

Like one organism. The thought is moving and terrifying. I used to watch Cursoi with hateful eyes from the other side, and now I became part of this sinuous beast. I enjoy a new sense of belonging. Can I stab the beast from the inside though?

Drama stops in the middle of the stairs and turns.

Dung. “I cannot control my feelings,” I say nervously, “but I can control my actions.”

“I’m not sure I want you to,” he replies, hesitant, his voice much lower than usual. His gaze darkens. “All around.”

I blush. Is he talking politics or flirting?

Other Cursoi pass us, crossing the foyer, disappearing in the one door I ignored last night, opposite the fireplace. Now I can see it opens onto a park.

Drama adds, “You are allowed any opinion in here since no Cursoi will ever betray another, although they might beat the dung out of you. Out of here though, not one word.”

“What about your subversive thoughts? Would you be interested in… exploring options, or are you still going to be a good soldier?”

Drama laughs. “I’d love to explore options with you, but not the subversive kind. Neither will you. We are Cursoi. Our thoughts are our own, but our actions are the president’s. We can only follow orders.”

Literally? Because that would splurt.

“It’s just the way it is,” he answers, as if I spoke my thought out loud. We resume walking, following everyone into the park.

It’s something right out of Dark Ages history: a manicured lawn with trimmed hedges, green grass, and ponds with ducks and swans. It’s like we went back in time two-thousand years. All Apprentices are gathering close by a salitree, its supple branches caressing the water of a black slough. They are chatting and laughing in small groups, some popping instafood pills. The only Cursoi sitting on his own is Lethal. His back rests against the salitree, elbows on his bent knees, hands dangling. His hateful eyes are fixed on me.

I flinch and look away. Everyone has stopped chatting, checking me out. Did someone lift the order to ignore me? How? I swallow. I guess Cursoi don’t get transfers very often.

Drama bursts out laughing and plops down on the grass beside me. He says, “You’ll meet everyone, in time. They could come and talk to you now, but Cursoi… well, beyond merging we don’t meet new people much.”

I sit beside him. The chatting resumes, but I hear my name being whispered several times.

“I was wondering,” I ask, and my voice is a bit more choked than I’d like. “How far do you have to be to sense other people’s feelings and thoughts?”

“The closer the better. Generally I have to at least see the target, but I’m training to improve.” I draw in a relieved breath. Drama turns to face me with a big grin on his face. “Why? Naughty thoughts about me last night?”

“Drama, stop it!” I whisper, flustered. Did anyone hear him?

Drama leans back on his arms, and his hand, resting on the grass, brushes mine. I try to pretend like my heart didn’t stop, even more so since he lowers his eyes, looking like a sad, adorable puppy with very long lashes, and says, “Nala, I can’t hold back my skill, just like you cannot control your feelings.”

“Warning: if you tell me once more it’s just the way it is, I’m gonna punch you in the face.”

He rolls his eyes. “Honestly, I don’t get why people are so ashamed about their emotions in the first place.”

I move my hand away, just enough to breathe. “Speaking of shame, I saw Lethal come out of his place with two girls. Is that even allowed?”

Drama gives me a quizzical look. “Of course, Nala. We’re Cursoi.”

“So what? You can do whatever you want?”

He shakes his head. “Hardly, but merging is like eating. We have to.”

“Merging? Is that what you call sex?”

“It’s not the same, but close enough.”

“And you have to?”

Drama just stares.

What the Merc?

Now he looks pissed, maybe even a little offended. “Nala, it’s just the way—” he catches himself and adjusts to, “being different doesn’t make our culture wrong.”

“But it does! STDs? Unwanted pregnancies? Broken hearts?”

Drama frowns. “Apprentices are sterile. We don’t get sick, and we never sleep twice with the same human. We don’t… do anything to their… hearts. Except Lethal. He crushed a few. Literally though.”

Gross! I chase away the terrible image. “And what about Cursoi? Don’t we have hearts?”

“For Lethal to crush, yes, but merging has nothing to do with love,” Drama snaps. “And, no. I did not sleep alone last night.”

My stomach drops. Drama doesn’t like me. He likes everyone. He didn’t even try to lie.

His eyes shift, and I follow them to Ghost, walking amidst the gathering with another Cursoi. I have never seen an old one before. The new guy has white hair and a beard, matching his tunic, which contrasts against his dark skin. His eyes are almost yellow, like a tiger’s.

Drama whispers, “That’s Brain, the leader of our Unit.”

Brain’s intense gaze moves on me and he nods. Welcome, Nala, he speaks in my head, freaking me out. Come with me, he says.

I have to. The moment he speaks the order, I stand up, feeling like a klutz, but no one is looking at me anymore, and I follow Brain away.

#sci-fi #serialized fiction #serialized novel #sci-fi romance #book #booklr #Linked #GB Amman #share #novel #Trump the Trump

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words-are-like-colors · 8 years ago

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Title: Skirts and Fishnets AO3.: Word Count: 9k~ Rating: T Relationship: M/M Chapter: 1/? Tags: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki, Fushimi Saruhiko, Yata Misaki, Post-ROK, Post-Coke, Genderfluid!Saruhiko, Summary: Saruhiko is Genderfluid. That is basically the whole idea of this AU. Like, the plot is the same from original [K] except that Misaki is gay for Saruhiko and Saruhiko is Genderfluid because why not. Notes: Please read and enjoy. This wonderful idea was sparked up by this tumblr post: Ridiasfangirlings. Also, when you come across the character Isamu, I will inform you that he is, in fact, not a character in the original [K] Universe. I created him for this fic’s plot’s sake. If I do decide to continue this fic (based on reviews I get or if I just can’t stop thinking about it) you will continue to see him throughout. My thanks goes to my wonderful beta Mangosaurus. YOU ARE MY FAVORITE PERSON.

Tch, why am I even going to this stupid bar? I grumbled internally as my fingers did quick work of fasting the two interior hooks so the skirt hung neatly on my skinny hips. Earlier today, Misaki had texted me asking if I would like to go to a bar with him. Bars are the last place I would want to be in for many obvious reasons but, like Misaki has oh-so excitedly texted me, I haven’t gone out for a drink with him in a long time, so I stubbornly agreed. It would be much easier just to go over to Misaki’s place so not to create any hassle or have to worry about looking halfway decent but it is what it is, or so they say.

My phone angrily buzzed against the nightstand but I ignored it when the little chibi of Dōmyōji started to bounce on the screen. Instead of answering the text, I snatched up my tops from off the bed to put on. I couldn’t help but look over at where my small, unflashy makeup box sat in the corner of the room. It probably wouldn’t the be the best idea to get suited up and all because Misaki might faint (again, I don’t see why he would get all blushy over this) but oh well, I was in that mood where I felt like I needed to put all of this on.

I retrieved the box and opened it up. After pulling a few items out and dragging my chair over to the ceiling-to-floor length mirror in the closet, I carefully applied on some deep blue eyeshadow (which was accompanied by mascara to make my eyes stand out nicely) and as I finished doing the matching lipstick, I paused and smirked to myself. Hm… This wasn’t such a bad find after all. The dark matte blue lipstick that was currently stained over my lips was a rare find at the back of a convenience store. Benzai had pulled me into the store after a mission was completed to get some ramen when I stumbled across the small 50% off bin; I found it on the top of the pile, I didn’t think of it at the time but it was the perfect addition opposed to my normal light blue or black.

I carefully placed the items into the makeup box before digging out a pair of black gloves from the back of the closet where I had thrown them in the week before. The fabric stretched a bit as I slipped them on and flexed my fingers. I bent to grab my dress boots when the person in the mirror caught my eye. The PDA buzzed again but that message was also ignored, not because of whomever was trying to contact me, but because of the person looking back at me in the mirror. They… they weren’t that bad looking. The skirt and tank top were an excellent match, them being the same shade of blue followed by a ¾ sleeve fishnet shirt. The makeup flawlessly accented the embodiment of the outfit. A small warm spark flared up in my chest as I couldn’t help but smile because I looked… pretty.

At the third buzz, I ripped my eyes away from the reflection and pulled on a pair of dress boots. Ungracefully pushing the door open and tripping on the way into the hallway, I quickly scrolled through my PDA’s messages.

Dōmyōji: Dude, you really should come with us. It will be awesome.

I disregarded that message because the answer was already given hours ago.

Misaki: Saru. When u coming ? I ve been waiting

Misaki: you better not be late cuz your working still

I quickly sent a message back to him before stuffing the PDA into my little black handbag. Misaki had given it to me years ago while saying that it wasn’t girly or manly but that he was only giving it because I had no pockets in my skirts.

My boots clicked against the hardwood steps on the grand stairwell as I gradually made my way over to the front doors. I shivered slightly once I stepped into the nippy chill of the night’s air. A silhouette stood beyond the Scepter 4 Headquarters gate, a red glow seemed to reverberate from the shadow due to the nearby street lamp.

The silhouette looked up as I neared the gate. “Saru! What took you so long?” Misaki turned around, bouncing slightly as he shivered in excitement.

“Hello to you too.” I said smoothly, noting that he hasn’t said hello yet. Careful not to dirty my gloves, I pushed the gate open and slipped outside onto the street.

“Uh… H-hi!” His stuttered response made me look up from where I was slowly pushing the gate close. A blush could be seen blooming over his cheeks and up into his hair, making his ears pink.

“Problem?” My eyebrow quirked up at his reaction of seeing me. What about me could make him blush?

“Uh… um…” Misaki instinctively started to rack his fingers through his hair, an action I’ve recognized to be when he was nervous but usually he pulls his beanie over his face although this time, he didn’t have it with him. His outfit was a tad different than usual but it was clearly something he picked out because it still had the rough qualities that the man comes with. Tonight, he was wearing some random grey band shirt that I was pretty sure he doesn’t listen too and some tighter jeans than normally seen in.

I smirked and bent down slightly, the boots had given me a little more height but it doesn’t matter, I’m still taller than Misaki anyways. “Tell me Mi~Sa~Ki~” I drew out, knowing just how much he hated it when I said his name like that.

“Youlooksexyinthatoutfit.” His answer came out in a jumbled mess as he blurted it out and covered his burning face.

I paused for a moment but before I could think about what he said, I decided to have some fun. “Oh, Misaki.” I said lowly and slowly, pushing his arm off of his face to gently skim his cheek with the tips of my fingers. “Is that what you really think about me? Sexy?” He practically melted underneath my touch as I ran my finger across his jaw.

“O-okay! Saru, enough!” He violently pushed me a safe distance away and started to stomp off. After getting a few paces away, he called over his shoulder, “A-and yes, your s-sexy in that.”

Ha! I won~ I internally sang as I started to follow him. Our walk was mostly silent, midway Misaki had slowed down so we could walk together.

I watched him as we walked, complimenting him with my eyes. It’s not like nothing was new, same hair, same eyes, same gate, same annoying nervous twitches with his hands because he doesn’t know what to do with them, but recently, the same had became new… or it was just that I’m re-noticing some things for the first time, like that his hair curls ever so slightly at the ends and around his ears that makes it so difficult not to reach out and touch, or his eyes, the way they sparkle when excited or fiery when angered, or the way he walks, confident yet relaxed and always prepared to spring into action, or the small sullen movements he makes, unnoticeable twitches or common movements that are only noticeable when watched for a long time. I let out a sigh, resisting that very urge to reach out and touch the small curl behind his ear.

No matter how much I hated to admit it, it was still true. Ever since after the Destruction of the Slate, there has been these fleeting moments where I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be close to Misaki, to hold Misaki’s hand, to go on dates with Misaki, but that was impossible because those feelings might not be given back. But… is this a date?

“Misaki.” He looked up when I called his name. “Are we on a date?” If he asked why I asked him this, I could just play it off like I was trying to embarrass him but his reaction was pleasing.

His beautiful eyes widened for a moment before he sharply looked away. “N-no, unless you want it to be… I guess.” He shrugged. I was glad that he was looking away because a small grin had appeared on my lips.

“Hm… let’s make it a date then. Since it’s just you and me.” I said, picking up my pace a little now that I had spotted the bar. Thankfully, Misaki was smart enough not to choose Homra Bar to go to.

“Um… Saru, please don’t get mad.” I looked down at him in surprise yet preparedness, it must be horrific if he’s asking me not to get mad. The man scratched the back on his neck nervously as he said, “Well, some of the blues and my guys are going to be there as well.”

I stopped in the middle of my tracks with a sharp click of my boots. “Why? You could’ve told me.” I let the anger out into my voice, he should’ve told me or I won’t of dressed up so much. It’s not that I have much shame in it anymore but not everyone needs to know, I didn’t need the drama of questions around me.

Misaki stopped in front of me. “You need to get out more. You’re always cooped up in that stupid place of yours.” He cross his arms defiantly and continued. “And it wasn’t my decision for everyone to come. That Andy guy that works with you asked us to come so I thought it would be a good time for you to meet up with some of us again.”

I clicked my tongue. Of course Dōmyōji Andy would invite everyone to some bar and try to force me to go as well. “Fine. I’ll go with you but don’t force me to talk to your lot.” I walked passed him, now irritated that I couldn’t have the night with just Misaki.

Misaki picked up his pace and followed me before hopping forward and pushing the door open for me. I didn’t thank him, which was expected, and walked inside. Instantly, a few heads were turned and stared at me. I clicked my tongue and headed to the counter where I had spotted two empty seats.

“Yo, Yata. That’s the Fushimi guy right? The Scepter 4 third in command?” I didn’t recognize the speaker so I plopped down into the barstool next to some random Scepter 4 member whose name I’ve forgotten.

“Yep.” I heard Misaki’s reply so I listened to the conversation and watched out of the corner of my eye. “That’s Saru for ya.”

“Oh. I didn’t expect this but cool.” The man was leaning against the counter, looking calm and passive but what caught my eye was that his Horma mark was laid out against his neck. Usually Homra marks were on places that could be covered up, like mine and Misaki’s upon our collar bones. The man pushed off of the counter. “See you, Yata.” He started to walk off to the back of the bar.

“Yeah, see ya Isamu.” Misaki called to him and sat down next to me. “Sorry about that.”

“What did he mean about ‘I didn’t expect this’?” I asked, trying to make conversation. I already guessed that the answer was: he didn’t expect a high official in a security department, a formal member of Homra, and the key component of defeating Jungle to be dressed up in woman’s clothing.

Misaki shrugged. “Don’t know. You guys haven’t met yet so there’s probably lots of questions to be asked.” The bartender quickly took our orders while Misaki talked. “He, Isamu, joined us right before the whole Jungle nonsense.”

I nodded but the conversation ended there because I could really careless about this man. Drinks were placed down in front of the both of us before the bartender walked off. A beer was given to Misaki (which I disapproved of) and a beautiful blue margarita was given to me. Typically, I don’t drink but since Misaki was buying, I ordered myself a something special.

A odd prickle crawled up my spine from all of the small looks that people were giving me. Usually, I would be asked questions or given strange looks but the Scepter 4 and Homra members around me didn’t really seem to mind. Yes, there were off questions to their friend “is that Fushimi?” “I wonder where Misaki picked up his hot date?” but otherwise it was useless banter. If anyone had a problem with me trying to look pretty for once and not have a sucky night, they can speak to my knives.

“Saru! Can I ask you something?” Misaki turned so he was facing me more. He was gingerly holding his beer between his hands for a moment as if copulating if he really should drink it before indulging himself in it.

“You already did.” I mumbled.

“You know what I mean.” He laughed slightly. “I was thinking. Maybe Anna should…”

I blocked out his jabber and only nodded and said “yeah” every once in awhile. Once he gets going about something or someone of that dreaded gang, he won’t stop. I ran my fingers down the delicate, thin middle of the glass. As I watched my fingertips glide down the rod, I couldn’t help but think, I should’ve stayed at my dorm instead of going here. It’s not like there was anything for me to do here.

“Wait? You will?!” Misaki excitedly exclaimed, nearly falling out of his seat. “You’ll help tutor Anna?!”

“Eh?” I jerked up from where I was staring to look at the man next to me, confused on what I had just agreed upon.

“Yeah, Anna needs new tutors now that most of us is getting new jobs and such. Also, you’re really smart in the subjects she lacking in.” The man smiled and took a swig of his drink. “I didn’t think you would agree but surprise! You did.”

My mouth was hanging open, what the hell did I just agree to do? I was about to say no and reject the offer but I hesitated. Anna does need a tutor and it wasn’t like we had a dispute or anything. I’m not the best at helping people but Anna isn’t like normal people. “Tsk, don’t look so surprised and hopeful. I’ll only try once.”

“Thanks Saru.” He smiled, a wide warm smile that made me pause with my glass halfway up to drink.

I quickly ducked down to hide the blush that had threatened to crawl up, I muttered a whatever and drank some of my margarita.

“I’m going to say hi to some of the guys for a moment.” Misaki slid off of the stool and started to walk off.

“Wait, Misaki.” I hissed but he had already walked too far to hear me. Tsk. This is a date, not a place just to hang out with other people. I thought before taking a few sips of my drink. It didn’t taste all too bad.

I glanced around the place and I had to say, it wasn’t that bad after all. The Scepter 4 and Homra members were getting along too much for my liking but in the end, the lack of paperwork needed to go out to a bar was much better than having an all out fight. I only recognize a few people, of course all of the Special Forces officers were there which was expected, but a few lower paid Scepter 4 members were scattered among to old and new Homra members. Dōmyōji waved when we made eye contact and he tried to usher me over but I shook my head no.

Bored, I flexed my hands before straightening out my gloves. A strong voice sounded from behind me.

“Hey. Did that little munchkin run off?”

Now that was something I never heard Misaki be called. Typically it was chihuahua (curiosity of Eric Sōlt) or virgin but not munchkin. So, because of the abnormally of the question, I turned around. “Misaki is somewhere else.” I responded.

It was that neck-mark guy, Isamu, talking. He gave a small half grin as he sat down onto the stool next to me, in Misaki’s seat. “So… I heard that you got into pretty rough stuff a couple of months ago. I mean, I was there and all but that was neat; pretended to be a Jungle member and all. I doubt –”

“Where are you going with this?” I shot daggers at him. There was no patience within me to tolerate a lame Homra member talking about some mission that Munakata put me on.

Instead of backing off like most people would do when confronted with my personality, this man leaned forward slightly. He lifted a finger and gestured for the bartender to get him a drink while he answered with a grin. “Well, since you seem impatient to let me to get to my point, I’ll get to it now. I was going to congratulate you on your skill work. I’ve heard stories.” A few strands of black hair few down into his face as he watched me in interest. He looked like a typical Homra member, tall, strong built, obvious signs of being in several fights, but he was dressed more proper than others of his gang– black dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves rolled up to the elbow which was accompanied by dark jeans and several bracelets. His hair was a bit more ruffled than when I glanced at him earlier, it was if he was doing that lame movie thing of running his fingers through his hair to try and make it look better yet always making it more ruffled looking.

I couldn’t help but be surprised by remark, who would want to tell stories about me? “And?” I promoted.

He chuckled, seemingly glad that I was interested. “A lot of them came from the vanguard but I’ve also heard other things. Not to be stalkerish or anything, but I’ve asked around some of your other friends–” Friends? If your talking either the blue or red idiots, neither of them are my friends, I thought. “– and they’ve said other fascinating stories.” Isamu took a beer from the bartender with a small thanks before continuing. “For instance, stories about how strong you were as a young Homra member; you were almost as strong as Kusanagi when partnered when the vanguard…” He went on to talk about my other accomplishments.

To be honest, it was quite annoying to have someone talking about how awesome your clan careers were. Although… having Misaki glot to others about me was a bit rewarding.

“So, Saruhiko– if I may call you that– I’ve also heard that you carry a full set of knives– not little throwing knives, but nice long ones. Also, that you never go anywhere without them…” His grin slid into a smirk. I was already bothered greatly by him calling me by my horrific first name but asking where I had deliberately hid my knives was worse. “Hm? I angered you?”

I shifted in my seat and turned away from him, desperately wanting Misaki to come back already. “More like irritating me. And don’t call me that and also don’t ask about my knives.”

Isamu wasn’t fazed, but arched an eyebrow in response. “So you are carrying them with you. I wonder where they are…” His gaze raked my body and I couldn’t help but twitch uncomfortably. Why the hell is his wondering where I keep my weapons? It’s not like he has a purpose for knowing.

I was, in fact, carrying some of my knives with me. After joining Scepter 4, I had fashioned myself with making a small harness that could fit nicely under my skirts. Although only six could fit on the belt, it was still useful. Also, I had modified my dress boots to hold at least two per boot on the inside. Thankfully, the work had not been in vain because I’ve used these modifications more than once against pathetic strains trying to jump me.

A poke on my thigh made me flinch. A sharp laugh came from Isamu from my reaction. “Under your skirt, eh?”

“Fuck off.” I finally growled out, fully ready to leave and not come back for Misaki.

Isamu raised his hands in defense, “Sorry sorry. Didn’t mean to piss you off. Just having a bit of fun.” He lowered his hands and drank a bit of his beer, that reminds me that I have my own drink still waiting to be drunk. The bottle made a low thump as he put it back down. He leaned lower still even though I had just told me to leave me alone. “And on the concept of fun… how would you like–”

“Saru! I’m ba– Isamu. What’s going on?” My Misaki was back, finally.

As Misaki gazed upon the scene he had just witnessed, a baffled look appeared on his face. I didn’t blame him for looking so confused– his gang member friend was leaning close to me, his hand slightly stretched out from where he had previously poked my leg and a sly smirk across his face– but what I didn’t expect was a flash of rage to cross his face and for him to stomp over to shove Isamu away. “Leave Saruhiko alone.” He demanded.

Isamu sat back, getting defensive. “Hey, I was just talking to the beauty. Doing nothing wrong.”

“Lier.” Misaki scuffed, sounding childish with the calling out but I couldn’t say I disagreed. “I came here with Saru so I get to leave here with Saru. Got it?”

A noise of genuine surprise escaped me. When did Misaki decide to beat down his own member for my sakes? The man sitting on the bar stool opposite of me also seemed surprised at his statement.

Although Isamu had been put off by Misaki’s brave statement, he still kept his confidence and aplomb. The man laughed mockingly and raised a hand to draw through his hair. “Really Yata? You and Saruhiko here–”

“Don’t call them that. Only I can, alright?” Misaki growled, his hands bunching up into fists. If this wasn’t such an imposing scene, I would’ve told him off for trying to protect me but I’ll let it slip this time.

Isamu continued his statement as if Misaki didn’t interrupt, “–are dating? I didn’t think a virgin like you could pick up someone like this. I wouldn’t be surprised if the two of you are in some kind of lewd deal. You can’t even go up to a girl and ask her out so I’m really not surprised that you are using a traitor as a substitute–”

It was I who interrupted not just him, but the whole bar around us. The only sounds that could be heard was the sharp gasp of the man before me, music dimly playing from a box in the back, and a click as someone dropped their glass lightly on a table top. What had startled everyone to silence and stares was the knife glinting as it was dangerously raised to Isamu’s throat. Once the oddly marked man, more like flea, had started to insult Misaki and me in one of the lowest ways possible, I had clicked; at lightning speeds, I had whipped a knife out of my skirt and pointed it at him.

“Coward.” A hiss escaped from between my teeth. “I didn’t perceive that even a Homra member would stoop so low to not only attempt to get me to go out with them, but then right after, insult their senior with the said person they are trying to go out with.” I withdrew my knife and stood up.

Chatter started to erupt again as I made my way out of the bar and out onto the street. What set me off? Typically, I would stand idly by as the flea throw insults but I had acted this time.

“Saru!” Misaki bursted out of the bar and ran over to me. The look of rage was still hot on his face but it clearly not towards me due to the lack of yelling. “Hey, sorry about that. Isamu was probably drinking before we had got there.”

The weak excuse didn’t cut it. “Whatever, Misaki.” I sighed, turning on my heel to start walking back to my dorm which I had only left about an hour go, with the walking taking most of the time.

“Eh? Come on. Let’s go to Homra Bar.” Misaki suggested, catching up to me. “No one is there except for Kusanagi and Anna. I’ll even call to make sure.” When I didn’t reply to his pleading, he kept going. “O-or my place. We can play videogames and stuff. I can even make you something to eat.”

I kept walking without a word. There was no reason that I should go to Homra Bar, only to be reminded of when I was a member of that gang.

“You don’t have to be a jerk about everything. We could do something different, this is a date after all.” Misaki’s outburst made me pause and look at him, mildly interested in what he had to say. When our gaze met, he flushed– it was bright enough to be seen even at night. “W-well… only if you want too. I-it’s not like I’m asking you o-out or anything.” He fidgeted, once again automatically trying to pull at his nonexistent beanie.

The weight of disappointment shouldn’t of been present. It wasn’t like I’m pining him (or at least I haven’t realized it just yet) or anything along those lines. Yes, I have feelings for him but I’m not ashamed of it. Of course it took a while to realize and then find out that it was okay to like Misaki; when I had went to the Yata Family’s house, Misaki’s mother had pointed out that she doesn’t mind if I liked Misaki that way and that she rather it would be me over anyone else. The knowing looks from both Munakata and Awashima doesn’t help the matter any.

I clicked my tongue, deliberately keeping eye contact with him so he can’t turn away and hide from the subject. “Well, are you asking me out?”

Misaki visibly stiffened but his next words came out in a rashful mess. “Yes. I’m asking you out.”

“Let’s get this straight. Isamu is apparently a barbarian, and you guys are goin’ out?” Kusanagi paused in the middle of cleaning his glass to lean on the counter and look at the pair sitting at his bar top.

Misaki let out a bashful laugh and grinned. “Yep. And that’s why we are here.”

“Only because you half dragged me here.” I mumbled into my drink. When we had got here, Misaki had ordered me the same blue margarita like from the old bar; I didn’t complain because I had barely drank half of the old one and I liked the taste of it.

Kusanagi chuckled. “That’s swell at least.” The glass let out a soft clink as it was set down onto the counter. “Oh Anna. You want somethin’?”

The girl, Anna, had seated herself onto the bar stool next to Misaki. She was wearing a lion night onesie and holding a red marble up to her eye. To people who don’t know her, this sight would be rather confused and unnerving. A soft smile appeared on her lips as she looked at me through her marble. “Saruhiko looks pretty tonight.” She said calmly before looking at Kusanagi. “I thought everyone was going out. And I sense that something bad happened.”

Misaki answered for Kusanagi. “Isuma was being a jerk, that’s all. I rather spend the night here anyways.”

I let the three talk as I busied myself with the blue drink before me. Isamu’s words couldn’t help but come back to me: “I’m really not surprised that you are using a traitor as a substitute.” Like hell would Misaki be able to use me as a substitute, I am the farthest from a little pretty girl as can be. Ice seemed to trickle down my spine as psychopathic laugher suddenly invaded the back of my mind, I hadn’t been taunted in such a way since my father had been alive.

“Misaki.” Anna’s voice snapped me out of it, her tone was oddly demanding like she was in fact trying to get me out of it. “We had a deal.”

I took a few shallow breaths before focusing on the conversation at hand.

“Deal?” Misaki looked down at her confused but a light bulb seemed to come alight a moment after. “O-oh. That. I don’t think Saru is up for it tonight…”

“For what, Misaki?” I asked.

He clammed up for a moment, his cheeks reddening as he answered, “I… it’s stupid. You won’t like it anyways.” He muttered, not looking at me.

I watched him for a moment, copulating if it was really necessary to push him on the subject until I saw Anna glaring at him. It must be really important if she is actually mad at him. “Well… I’ll be leaving if you won’t tell me. There’s no point to be here if secrets are around.”

“Chu, like you should be talking.” Misaki huffed but got up out of his seat. “I’ll be right back.” He retreated to the stairs leading to the other rooms.

While Misaki was upstairs getting whatever he was getting, Anna abandoned her seat to retrieve some newspaper. The paper crinkled slightly as she laid it out across the coffee table. “Saruhiko.” She pointed to the table which I assumed where she wanted me to sit (the two black couches that was usually around the table were pushed against a different wall for some unknown reason).

I followed the lioness’s silent instructions and sat next to the table. By the time I sat down, Misaki galloped down the stairs. Whatever that was in his hands clicked several times before he placed it down on the table.

“… nail polish?” Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t this. A small box sat upon the table, inside was several bottles of nail polish were set in rows by color. The box was mostly filled with reds and oranges but blues and blacks dotted between the fiery colors.

I gingerly picked a blue from the box and examined the bottle before looking up at Misaki for an explanation. Misaki put his hands on his hips and said in a proud manner, even though I knew he was dying from embarrassment inside, “When you were still in Homra, I had asked Chitose to teach me how to do makeup and stuff for ladies. You like to be feminine sometimes so I decided I would try and learn so I can help you. It’s stupid really but I continued testing and trying things out even after you left so yeah.” A sheepish grin crossed his face. “Anna made a promise with me that if, one day, I managed to get you in here, I would paint both yours and hers nails. So, I agreed so she let me test on her.”

Anna nodded, proving the story was accurate. Misaki was still standing there, waiting for the go ahead. After a moment of thought, I clicked my tongue. “Tsk, as long as you don’t screw it up.”

A smile crossed his face as he joyously plopped onto the ground across from me. “I won’t.” He carefully emptied the box and lined the colors out so I could see them all. “Pick the ones you like.” He offered.

I reached out and plucked out a royal blue and black from the row. A bottle with clear-white sparkles caught my eye so I hesitantly grabbed that out as well. I put the bottles into Misaki’s hands before carefully removing my gloves and putting them into my handbag.

Misaki looked over my choices for a moment and hummed. “Okay. I have an idea.” He gestured for my hand so I held it out for him. “So, we could do all of your nails this blue except for the ring finger where we could do the black with the white sparkles over it. Is that okay?”

There was no problem with that so I nodded and let him take my hand. Misaki gently ran his fingers against mine before laying my hand out against the newspaper.

This is… new. The old was me. Once in middle school, I had found a bottle of purple nail polish laying around on the floor of the classroom. At this point in time, I had started to seriously consider my sexuality and gender. Typically, I could really care less– if you’re happy, be happy, I have no reason to judge, but then, feelings had started to swirl inside me like a whirlpool. I was angry at myself at first, fully believed that I am just a monkey… a failure, a failure that I couldn’t just be a normal guy that went to school and could hit on girls. So, when I found the little purple bottle, I had hid behind the school. I was curious, no stupid, and started to paint my nails. I have never done that, actually do something that was girly. It was a rush of feelings, angry, happiness, sadness, giddiness; there was enough feelings that I couldn’t help but laugh as my eyes teared up. It was proof that I was a failure but also proof that I could be someone different, someone whose life wasn’t an endless parade of despair. During the midst of raw feelings, Misaki had found me hunched up behind the baseball pits. First, he was concerned, who wouldn’t be if their friend is hiding with tears falling down their face? But once he saw the nail polish bottle laying in the grass by my feet, he just smiled. A genuine beautiful warm smile cross his face as he laughed and picked up the bottle, saying, “Fushimi, you could’ve told me. There’s nothing to be ashamed about.” He grabbed my half painted hand and brush-cap to start to go to work after those words. His blind acceptance was… wonderful. Wonderful in the fact that he could really care less whether I wore skirts or pants, whether I wore make up or went bare, whether I was girl or a boy. He took me for who I was– his friend.

I looked up from where I was watching when music softly started to play. Kusanagi had walked out from behind his bar and started up the radio which was situated in the corner of the room. “A bit too quiet.” He said, answering my questioning gaze.

Misaki glanced up at me, an excited look was still in his eyes. After making sure that it was okay to proceed (he had finished the royal blue), he carefully replaced the cap to the blue before opening up the black. The feeling of coolness from the wet paint set mini shivers through me as Misaki carefully spread the paint out to fill my ring finger. He was cautious to not hit the now drying fingers while also trying not to get the paint onto my skin.

His blind acceptance is beautiful.

“‘Night, boys.”

“You too!” Misaki waved to Kusanagi as he pushed open the door; I gave him a short nod. After a few hours at the bar (talking, nail polish, and watching a few of Totsuka’s tapes), Anna had literally fell asleep standing– which meant that it was well past her bedtime, and Misaki and I had a scolding from Kusanagi about not coming in so late at night. I would’ve retorted with, it’s not my fault that you kept the bar open until midnight, but that wouldn’t be the best idea at this time of night. So, we left the bar with our destination being Scepter 4 HQ.

The jingle of bells accompanied the clicks of my boots and the content sigh that slipped out of Misaki as the door fell shut. We walked in silence for a few minutes until Misaki attempted to start a conversation. “Um… Do you… Do you have the day off sometime soon?” He stiffened when I glanced down at him. “I-I mean, just wondering’. It’s not like I’m asking you out or any– oh wait! I did.” He reached up to itch his neck sheepishly.

“Your brain must be as big as your stature.” I said smoothly.

It took a few seconds before Misaki burst, “Oi! My brain isn’t small.”

Silent laughter shook me. “Oh, but you agreed that you are short and small.” I couldn’t help but smirk at him.

“Don’t be an ass.” Misaki rolled his eyes. After a brief moment of silence he muttered, “So…”

“Friday.”

“Eh?”

“You asked when I had the day off so that’s the day.” I clicked my tongue and picked up my pace slightly, the cold had pricked at my skin. “I’m going to stay and tend to the work that wasn’t finish.” A frown had pulled itself across his face. “… unless you have something planned.”

The frown vanished and was replaced with a hopeful look. “We could do something like we did tonight, just not do something with my guys.” He proceeded to add a comment about how he’s going to kick Isamu’s ass once he sees him again but I disregarded that. “You had fun tonight right?”

“Tsk.” There was no denying it, I did have “fun” per say. “You could say that.”

Misaki smiled, looking triumph. “So that means that you liked our date?”

“I already answered.” I snipped lightly, a bit bashful about admitting this. “But you still have until we reach the headquarters. Don’t mess it up.”

“I’ll try not.”

“Try?”

“Come on! I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future.” He waved his arm for elaboration, which actually didn’t make much sense in this situation.

“Me either…” Six years ago, I didn’t know what would happen when I picked up the purple nail polish bottle. Four years ago, I didn’t know what would happen when I scourged my Homra tattoo. Two years ago, I didn’t know what would happen when I fell into a tunnel with Misaki. Four months ago, I didn’t know what would happen when I was being attack by JUNGLE and was strained hopeless. Two hours ago, I didn’t know what would happen when I held the knife against Isamu’s throat. Two minutes ago, I didn’t know what would happen when I lit a small fire of raw youth and happiness in Misaki’s eyes.

“Well, maybe we could go out to lunch or something. Friday. Kusanagi wants me to help at the bar in the morning but I’m off the rest of the day.” Misaki supplied which I only shrugged to.

The streets around became busier as we walked along, businessman walking home from work, 24/7 shops still alight with a bored worker or two inside, a loud meowing came from an alley, and more of that sort of thing. We were obvious to this though, after living in this city for so long, we’ve gotten use to this life. I would’ve also missed a man staring at me if it wasn’t for Misaki who started growling in his direction like a dog. I questioned why he started being protective, “What? You don’t like people staring at me?”

“Chu, you know all what they want. It’s not you, it’s that gorgeous chick facade you have going on.” He said offendedly, still glaring at the man until we rounded the corner.

His wording had peaked my interest. “‘Gorgeous’ “

Misaki stumbled to a stop, nearly bumping into me as he was stunned by his own word choice. His cheeks turned red under the street light. “I’m not going to lie. Y-you look gorgeous in everything.” He continued with his confession, words pouring from his lips like it was something he had held back for a long time. “You’re beautiful in everything: skirts, suits, and even that crappy sweatshirt you had in middle school. It’s so annoying how you can look so good in everything. I hate it that you can look so beautiful without noticing.” To an outsider, it would look like Misaki was spatting and trying to start a fight but to me, it was just Misaki being brave. He moved forward, getting closer as if he was trying to make me believe by throwing the words into my face. “I just want you to see how beautiful you are and that you are not just some piece of trash. Okay, Saruhiko? You’re gorgeous, beautiful–”

I don’t know what made me do it. Maybe it was the warmth that bloomed within me at his words– “Gorgeous”, “Beautiful”, “Sexy.”– that drove me to this predicament. I had cut him off with a kiss; it was inexperienced, off target, impulsive, but still a kiss at best.

I don’t regret it.

A squeak escaped him when I touched his lips, but he didn’t push me away, it was more like he was frozen in surprise. His cheeks under my hands burned as I slowly pulled away. The amber in his eyes sparkled as they widened, surprise and shock were visible in them, yet they held no anger.

The corners of Misaki’s lips lifted and relief swept through me. I haven’t messed up. I fondly watched as he raised his hand to intertwine our finger, keeping my hand upon his cheek.

There was no questions, no “can I kiss you again?”, no “why did you do that?”, no “can we do this somewhere else?”; all of those questions were answered already and the answered didn’t mattered because we were already kissing again. A miniature breathy giggle slipped out of the man as we bumped noses, neither of us were experienced in this area, before sudally correcting ourselves. I closed my eyes and shifted my free hand into his hair to keep him close this time.

A loud bout of giggling and laughing make the pair of us jump, apparently we both had drowned out the noise of the street that we were on. I didn’t recognize the laugher but Misaki clearly did because flung himself away from me and snapped his gaze over to the watchers.

After a second or two, I dimly recognized the couple. Chitose Yō was grinning at them, his arm wrapped around a woman’s waist. “Good job, Yata.” The man commented.

“S-shut up!” I raised an eyebrow as Misaki nearly-literally burst, his blush was quite clear as his whole face and neck lit up. “You were stalking us, weren’t you.” He accused his fellow Homra member.

The man shook his head. “No, Erika and I were just at the restaurant back there.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I was just walking her home until we found this.”

Misaki bristled like a cat, “You didn’t have to interrupt us!” He wildly turned on his heel, grabbed my wrist, and proceeded to stomp off. “Let’s go Saru.”

“Wait!” The woman, Erika, hurriedly slipped out from Chitose’s arm and approached us before we could leave them behind. “Excuse me, but it seems that you smudged the lipstick while kissing.”

I glanced at Misaki to see if it was true as Erika took a cloth out of her purse. I had, indeed, smudged a bit of blue into his lips. Misaki gratefully took the cloth from the woman and proceeded to try to take the dark blue off of his face.

Erika told Misaki to keep the cloth before hurrying back to her boyfriend. The pair waved farewell before walking in the opposite direction.

Are we going to talk about it? The kiss? That question stuck in my mind since Misaki and I had continued to walk. I glanced down at him, searching for any inclinations that would lead me to believe that he wanted to talk… but there wasn’t. Misaki had his hands in his pockets, head dipped to stare at the ground before him, and he was a step or two away from me. Although this didn’t look like he wanted to talk, it struck a chord in me; it shouldn’t of bothered me this much, the way Misaki was acting. Typically, he would be leaning closer to me, eyes bright and attentive, and ready to talk about useless batter like his day or some video game he is currently playing.

After a few minutes of uncertainty, I stiffly said, “So… tell me about that skateboarding competition that was mentioned that day at the park.” Don’t get me wrong, I like the quiet, peaceful walk with Misaki but it just felt wrong to watch him sulk for whatever reason.

Misaki jerked his head up, his eyes wide in surprise. “O-oh. Sure.” He paused, biting his lip in thought before continuing. “Uh… So, I ended up entering that competition, like I said. It’s in… a couple of weeks I think, in one of the old warehouses that they changed into trick ramps. It will actually be really cool and stuff. If I get in and win, I could go too another competition and if I win that one, I could go to the United States for more competition. I’m thinking of inviting some people to watch and stuff, and you come… if you want…” The last sentence came out as a mumble, it was as if he was unsure with the idea of me coming to watch.

The way he was acting prickled my nerves. Did I do something wrong? Although I could not do anything and let the matter fix itself over time, I do like Misaki’s kisses and want more in the future. So, I suddenly snapped, “Tsk, whatever I did wrong, ignore it. Obviously I upset you.”

Misaki jumped, clearly not expecting what I had said. “You didn’t do anything wrong!” He said startledly, but an ashamed look crossed his face.

“Then what’s the problem.”

“I-its nothing.”

“Misaki,” I hissed, clearly getting agitated that he wouldn’t just spit out what he was thinking. Our walk had started to get slower, it was as if the both of us both wanted to stop and continue to talk but both of us wanted to continue to our goal. “I’m not blind nor stupid, there is something wrong with you.”

Misaki visibly winced at my words. He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets and let out a long sigh. “This is really fucking stupid but since you’re so persistent for whatever reason, I’ll tell you.” He kept his gaze pointedly away from me as he spoke. “I just don’t want what happened when you were in Homra to happen again… what I mean is that I don’t want to become so naive again, in any sense of the word and situation. We were both stupid then but I don’t want that happening again, ya know?” I did understand, more than he could explain. Although it wasn’t a just single cause that made me leave Homra, I can see which one Misaki was getting at.

“I didn’t like the way Misaki was acting.” I sighed, answering her earlier inquiry. The noises of the nightly flare nearly ceased as we turned the corner leading to the Scepter 4 Headquarters. He glanced at me in confusion so I explained. “Misaki sulking got annoying.”

“Oi! I wasn’t sulking… just distracted that’s all.” He huffed, nudging me. “It’s you who’s sulking.”

“About what then?”

Misaki relaxed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know. Probably about something lame.” A teasing smirk crossed his face.

“Kissing Misaki isn’t lame.” Despite the fact that I wasn’t sulking, I took the chance to tease him. I could be sulking about that but Misaki acting different had worried me more.

“W-what?” He stammered, his characteristic blush coming into play according to plan. We both simultaneously stopped until the same lamppost from the beginning of this night.

“You heard what I said.” A lazy smirk creeped across my lips. “I liked kissing Misaki.” It wasn’t a lie, I truly liked it. During the minutes that we weren’t talking, I hadn’t be able to keep what had just happened out of my mind; the fondness in his beautiful eyes, the feel of his cheeks lighting up under my hands, the softness of his hair as I shifted my fingers into it, and the electrifying touch as we kissed, I couldn’t keep it out of my mind. I like this new.

He kept blushing his ridiculous red as I watched him for an answer. “O-oh. Um… we can do it again if you w-want.” He stopped hiding his face and stepped forward to me, trying stay brave.

“Hm… I do want to.” This time, I wasn’t teasing as I reached out and gently ran my fingers down his cheek. A hopeful smile popped up on his face as I leaned closer to him. Once I had stooped low enough to reach him, he surged up on his toes to wrap his arms around my shoulders and to press his lips to mine.

We stayed like that for a moment, Misaki wrapped around my shoulders and my free arm around his waist, before he slowly broke away. It felt nice, standing here, pressed up against Misaki. A content sound escaped him as he opened his eyes. I didn’t want to pull away. I ever so gently move my fingers into his hair to slowly touch that irresistible curl that was behind his ear that I’ve always want to touch, to caress. My freshly painted nails stood out clearly against his orange hair, the black and the blues looked like the night sky because of the way is clear dots that were scattered. At this moment I realized Misaki is the sun, I am the night; we are opposites, yes, but beautiful opposites but the same when joined at the same moment, at the same time we are beautiful.

“Saru?”

“Hm?”

“A-are we really boyfriends?”

“What do you think?”

Misaki thought for a moment before tightening his hold around my shoulders and leaning back up slightly, “Yes, we are.” He didn’t seem embarrassed anymore, his reddened face had calmed down into a soft pink, but instead he looked… happy, happy to be standing here with me. Happy to be in a relationship with me of all people.

Warmth bloomed within me at his simple words. “Misaki.” I needed to say his name; I could really not care about how much he hates his name because it sounds “lame” and it’s “girly”, what mattered was that I liked it. I like how his name rolls off of my tongue, it’s like a music note– its gradual at first until the last syllable with a nice -ki and that I can mold the name into different sounds and shapes, some longer, drawn out teasings or a short, needy call to catch his attention. His name has always been alluring to me.

We shared another short kiss before Misaki lowered himself back down to the ground, painfully pulling away from the embrace. We both knew we couldn’t stay there like that for the whole night– we would have to break apart some time or we would’ve fallen asleep on the hard sidewalk. Misaki bashfully chuckled and took a step back away from me. “Um… just text me when you get up tomorrow, alright? Just say hi or something so I know when you get up. You need a good night’s sleep.”

“I’m not a child, Misaki” I lightly snipped back but there was no heat behind the words, Misaki has always worried over me and my health which always caused me to snap back with the usual “I don’t need to be taken care of” retort, although… I do rather like him dotting on me.

“You know what I mean.” He rolled his eyes before glancing down at his PDAWatch and grimacing. “It’s already too late. Knowing you, you would get up five hours earlier just to do work.”

There was no argument there, I have gotten up early or stayed up late just to work several times and especially for the past few months since the Slate was destroyed. Timeless Palace, the ministry, and Scepter 4 has been tirelessly working on the worldwide outbreak of strains ever since Jungle has let the Slate’s powers be unleashed. I shrugged, “At least I’m getting things done, unlike you.”

Misaki went to retort but he ended up closing his mouth and saying instead. “Whatever, Saru… Just promise me that you will sleep tonight.”

I gave into his pleadings and nodded. “I’ll try.”

We stood there in an awkward silence, neither of us knowing what to say. Misaki silently rocked on his heels, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. After a few minutes, he seemed to find words again. “… good night, I guess.” He muttered out. “I mean, I walked you home and all, s-so I guess that this is the end of the night.”

No. The word hung on the tip of my tongue. No, I don’t want to leave Misaki just yet. I don’t want to leave his sidelong glances, his boisterous laugh, his small nudges when trying to catch my attention… but I had to go, it’s impossible to stay the whole night with him only to leave at the break of dawn the next day.

So, I took a small step closer to him, trying to catch the last close encounter with him before I had to turn in for the night. “Yes, it is. Anything else to say before I go?” The last part was a last hopeful note, bluntly asking for him to keep me there with him for longer.

Misaki shrugged then a lightbulb seemed to light up, the bulb was behind his eyes making them sparkle in wondrous thought. I love how they sparkle like they do. “It kinda feels like déjà vu, doesn’t it?” I raised an eyebrow so he continued with a small laugh, “Like, here we are, standing under the same lamppost, in front of the same place, in the same clothes, in the same positions, and such. Except that you don’t have your gloves on and that I’m taking you back instead of picking you up.”

His inquiry was exactly on point, except for… “Do you still think I’m sexy?” I smirked and leaned forward, doing the same thing from the beginning of the night, but instead of Misaki getting flustered and pushing me away, he let my fingertips slide across his cheek and jaw like it had so many times this evening with a small laugh and smile.

As my fingertips went to part from his skin, he snapped up hand up and caught mine within his. I watched in utter surprise as brought my palm up to his lips. “That answer will never change.” He replied against my palm, pressing a soft kiss to it.

I don’t know who was most flustered after that answer. For one of the rarest moments of my life, I had actually felt my face heat up, spreading across my cheeks and down my neck. Misaki had also started blushing again, his confidence crumbling against my palm after his act. My chuckle came out crackled, “I never expected you to do that, Misaki.” I said his name deliberately, making his jolt a bit as I lowered my voice.

“O-okay. This is getting too much.” He dropped my hand much to my displeasure and moved a bit away… but I was glad he backed away and tossed away the moment, I was spending too much time dilly-dallying.

With the imprint of Misaki’s lips invisibly printed on the inside my palm, I moved over to the front gate with a sharp click of my boots. The sound reverberated into the silent night, making me keenly aware of that anyone could hear Misaki and I’s private conversations, but none of that mattered to me at that moment in time. The gate spluttered open as I pulled it open just enough so I could slip inside. I paused before walking in, the feeling like I was missing something prickled at the back of my mind.

I glanced over to see Misaki still standing there, rocking on his heels and watching me. “You going to stand there all night?”

He started. “You haven’t said good night yet.”

“Neither have you.” I deadpanned.

I could see him sighs and roll his eyes. “Good night Saruhiko.” I could hear the smile through his voice even when he was pretending to be distraught about me pointing out the obvious.

“Good night Misaki.” I slipped inside the gate after sending a final glance his way, only to capture the last moments of the night.

Hm… I know why I went to go to that stupid bar tonight. I went because that’s where my wonderful evening would begin.

#fanfic: mine #k Project #sarumi #skirts and fishnets

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