#but it just makes no sense to me why the school counselors were so concerned idk

[nico-di-angelic]

Hating this sanitization of Percy’s character lmao like he gets expelled/not allowed into this school because he drew a picture of a Pegasus? And climbed up onto the roof? Like I’m sorry but my Percy explodes school buses and gets into fights with other kids…. strangles snakes with his bare hands, steals police cars….. I get that it’s disney so maybe they don’t wanna show all that but. come on. A drawing of a fucking horse?

[blues824]

Can we get the TWST dormleaders with an S/O that is a FBI agent for the BAU? I enjoyed reading the one with the Obey Me brothers!

My search history looks like I’m committing every single crime to every single degree. But, this fic is a victory for Yuu/YN/Mc, and you’ll see why.

Riddle Rosehearts

He is definitely intrigued, since you don’t seem phased by your chosen profession. You’ve been faced with actual serial killers to try and find the motive as to why they did what they did, and you don’t seem to be affected mentally or emotionally.

What freaked him out was during a small date between the two of you in the labyrinth. You both were taking a small break for tea, when you told him that one of the leading reasons for homicide was because the perpetrator had suffered through too much abuse. 

That’s when he realized that he might want to consider therapy, since he is one step away from actually killing someone. After living with his mother for the 17 years of his life, he doesn’t want to risk hurting you because of a psychotic break.

Leona Kingscholar

He didn’t care at first, until you started digging into the issues within everyone. You told him that jealousy was one of the leading motives for murder, and you tried to make a light-hearted joke about him being one step away from just offing his brother.

Well now he’s really looking at and assessing himself to see if he needs to go to counseling because you were right: he was one step and a psychotic break away from just killing the monarch of the Sunset Savannah because he was tired of being seen as #2.

You give him an overall summary that everyone at NRC already has a motive for committing a serial crime, so now he’s definitely concerned. Mans will stray as far away from anyone (*cough cough* Malleus *cough cough*) since they’re all ticking time bombs.

Azul Ashengrotto

For someone in your profession, you seem calm. It does make sense, however, since if the person you’re assessing can get under your skin then that wouldn’t be any good. You still terrify him though, since you fly through NRC with ease.

You were unsettling and intimidating to him, even though you were very polite and courteous. It was during a Housewarden meeting where you brought it up to Crowley that he might want to consider investing in a school counselor. Azul was genuinely frightened when you explained that everyone was a pin’s drop away from killing a peer, and the Headmage couldn’t argue against you since you were a professional.

Well, the campus has been more stress-free because they now have the option to talk with a different professional rather than dumping all of their issues on you. Even the sneaky cecaelia himself went to counseling and felt a large burden being lifted off of his shoulders. 

Kalim Al-Asim

He honestly didn’t know what a BAU agent was until you told him that you basically found the reason why someone committed a federal/serial crime. Then he was very worried about how you survived for this long.

This man would one day ask if you could read his psyche, and he was pleasantly surprised. He was one of the most mentally stable people on campus, but then you told him that Jamil was one step away from going batshit.

Your efforts in trying to establish a system of mental and emotional support paid off, and Kalim took part in funding it. You both made a huge difference and now there is a school counselor at Night Raven College. 

Vil Schoenheit

He’s only heard of the occupation through films, so as he does your makeup he will ask you more questions about it since movies don’t always get it right. This man’s eyes went wide when you told him how you had to sit with federal criminals and try and evaluate them to determine their motives.

So, what you were saying is that you constantly put yourself in danger by sitting with criminals who could attack you at any point? Oh, no. This wouldn’t do at all. All he can say is that he’s glad you’re here and not risking yourself for your job (don’t let him hear about the field operations of the FBI).

Then, you made the mistake of telling him that since he’s constantly jealous of Neige, he’s only a few steps away from just ending either himself or the Snow White look-alike. He’ll be right back, he’s booking a therapy session right now.

Idia Shroud

He’s also only heard of your job through movies, so when he gets more comfortable around you he is asking questions left and right. Instead of being appalled, he’s intrigued as to the most common motives that you’ve seen.

Mans could listen to you until his ears bleed. Idia comes from a family that studies blot, which is accumulated through strong emotions. So, aside from the obvious, the jobs you two had were more similar than one would think.

This man also supported you in getting Crowley to establish a system of support for the students, but he didn’t help financially. He helped by making a threat to the old crow and told him that if he didn’t, he would use his family’s influence to link the bird not hiring a school counselor to the overblots.

Malleus Draconia

He didn’t know anything about your job until you brought it up during one of your nightly walks. He tried to keep calm as you told him that you were constantly put up against federal criminals to try and find the motive behind their crimes, but it was taking all of his willpower.

The Prince found it interesting, sure, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of your mental or even physical health. He was angry that your employers would put all of this responsibility on you, but you assured that the more dangerous people were put in a straight jacket. That totally made him feel better.

You teach him about the power that emotional support can have, and he helps establish a system at NRC. Since he is one of the five most powerful mages, Crowley couldn’t exactly refuse. He can see the difference that you made, and he congratulates you by giving you a rose on one of your walks.

[umhuhwellthen]

I forgort I was gonna change my icon and header when it became august😭☠️

Anyway thoughts about Mutant Mayhem

Amazing

Little concerned about how the Leo crush is going to be handled, but so far so good..?

Also loved Splinter realizing how he could've ended up in SuperFly's place with his boys fighting him and fearing him, and being insane and like no, I am made of love, and if not for humans then for my boys

Also yes April!!!! Move on, you got news to report, actual public speaking tip I got when doing forensics you mess up to steamroll through ignore it it happens move on!!!

Her locker changed to April O'Hero and Beware April O'Neil

Wasn't expecting the boys to take off their masks but makes sense since they're out of the shadows and not being ninjas but normal teens!!!

Also how dare that bitch call herself an UTROM??? Utrom have been nothing but lovely and helpful to the turtles you can't just have the 03 human disguise colors and be an antagonist!!! But I will not deny it's a good direction and unexpected for people like me that have the view: utrom=good krang=bad, also HOLY SHIT THE SHREDDER????? Ooo love that they're going with a lot of 87 stuff in that krang and shredder we're working together ep1 and shredder was actually taking orders from krang because krang had superior tech and stuff

assuming the buff guy with the injured eye is Bishop, not expecting buff Bishop he was always slick and lithe and lean

OH WHAT IF THAT SUPER BUFF COMMANDO GUY ISNT BISHOP AND ACTUAL BISHOP COMES AND REPLACES CYNTHIA??? CUZ THE COUNCIL FINDS HER LACKING AND REPLACES HER

Iwonder if the movie or series will tackle how fickle popularity is, or how the humans view them

Or if they'll be a rallying of new yorkers like THOSE ARE OUR TURTLES AND WE WONT LET GOVERNMENT BASTARDS LIKE YOU HURT THEM!!!

Leonardo...best buy employee looking ass...

I wonder 🤔 if the series will have the turtles talking to a school counselor about any plans for the future and what kinda stuff they can do with that

BAXTER STOCKMAN DEAD FOR REAL???

the little cribs🥺🥺🥺 he really was gonna raise em up like little kids, concerning language with experiments on animals but maybe redemption or good guy???

Also I forgot who said it but when Superfly said he raise them himself and one of the shouted they were very well adjusted ! Like yes you are and that's why they had to stop they're unhinged brother who never really processed or move on from the traumatic event and became dead set on revenge

Movie brain worms I guess

[schizowitchic]

massive huge vent. tw for suicide and self harm and severe mental health difficulties

it actually literally sucks to see my friends getting mental health treatment. because i basically got instantly dismissed the first time (told me id be fine with school counselling after i literally ended up in hospital overnight after a suicide attempt), discharged without them telling me (when i raised concern that i was hallucinating and experiencing delusions, they ignored the presence of delusions and told me hallucinations were normal teenage experiences) so i had to wait even longer for therapy to deal with anxiety, then it was six weeks and i realised it was not helping because i felt the same even when i tried to apply the therapy and do the breathing exercises every day (I can rationalise thoughts away all I want but my body will still feel physically ill). so now ive reached the point where ive given up on getting mental health treatment. by picking up lovely coping mechanisms such as nicotine and self harm addictions (Self harm addiction has existed for like three years but I've hit a major relapse point). and basically repressing all my emotions so that nobody ever tries to make me go through the mental health system ever again.

anyway yeah meanwhile my friend almost had a suicide attempt (she was really contemplating it and called a hotline) and basically was on antidepressants within a month and had longterm therapy. she got on the autism assessment waiting list way after i did but got her diagnosis appointment before me. another friend went to the GP and got prescribed antidepressants basically instantly.

i don't know what im doing wrong for no person in the medical system to ever take me seriously (They don't seem to take my physical health problems seriously either!!). i don't know how to "perform" mental illness in a way that might actually get me treatment. i don't know what i need to do to get help.

i know i didn't help cases by lying and saying i don't self-harm - but i couldn't say that because i was under-18 at the time and they would tell my parents and i did not want my parents to know. and also. i was fifteen. in hospital. after overdosing. what about that screams "patient that needs no official mental health treatment - go to school counsellor. we will not properly check up on you at all".

i have considered asking my parents if they'd be willing to drive me to the nearest Mind building to see if they'll help me there - but i know all they can offer is talking therapies. and i suck at talking therapies. i can never explain the problem so i just end up pretending i have none. and also i find the way therapists talk to you disgusting. why the fuck do they talk to you like that.

at this point i feel like im gonna drift through life in some sort of haze, never being able to connect properly with people due to my communication deficits, never able to do stuff i want to do because i have no motivation, and just.... what is the point.

and people make it seem like you can just help yourself or whatever but i can't. it doesn't work anymore. i spent 5 years managing my own mental health from the age of 10 and i reached the point where i can't do that anymore. a counselor literally told me that im actually really good at rationalising irrational thoughts. which is great. until ive completely rationalised the thoughts and know nothing bad will happen but im still unable to do whatever it is that made me spiral.

ive spent the past year waking up to the taste of my own bile due to how nauseous i was from anxiety, ive literally lost weight due to anxiety, AND THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO ANYMORE. what the fuck is a breathing exercise gonna do to stop me feeling nauseous. what's the point of 5-4-3-2-1 if i can never fucking remember which one is which sense which stresses me out even more.

god. anyway.

it also really fucking pisses me off when the people who are getting treatment complain about it . like . i understand it might not be good for them . BUT YOU ARE GETTING TREATMENT . i am not!! my six weeks of anxiety therapy helped me for like a month and then it wore off and i don't even know what to do about that!!

[hihopelessromantics]

This is EXACTLY the part I was referring to but OMG I forgot it looked like THAT. his FACE. NOOOOOOOOO.

Why previous human friends!! How could you treat our boy this badly?

He asked for help at one time and did not receive even an Attempt to reassure him that he was worthy to receive the time and effort that he puts into his friendships??? WTF. Do they not subscribe to the BASIC laws of friendship??? Did our boy Meliodas not have any REAL friends for 3,000 years until he met the sins 😭 Your average middle schooler on level 3 friendship knows better SMH.

NOT ME RELATING ON A PERSONAL LEVEL TO THE SINS.

I would have fought friend’s parents at 12 years old upon request even tho they loved me. Apparently they always asked my mom if I was gonna be there when she wanted to hang out with our friend squad because ? they didn’t trust the others? Bastards put waaaaay too much pressure on her… gonna cry because you only got a 96 and your parents will ‘kill you’? gonna tell me they said you ruined their vacation and that they yanked on your hair??? Constant comparisons to family, calling you fat and ugly, yelling over the smallest things? Well I’m gonna care about it. How do you NOT care about that? I was writing passionate persuasive letters to them for years. Legit trying to convince them to idk??? Be better to their child?? My bestie absolutely did NOT deliver them lol. My dumbass did not know how to best support her but HELL IF I DIDN’T TRY! Even asked my school counselor about it at one point. That little visit ended up causing a misunderstanding that contributed to her pretending I didn’t exist for the next three years (god damn do things happen in high school…) but that’s what can happen when you’ve been basically emotionally abused and you can’t trust anyone and some shit you won’t explain just went down.

In my case I didn’t have any magic shenanigans I could use to show how much I loved her and help her deal with whatever hell she was going through in her personal life. I couldn’t do anything.

The sins felt like they COULD do something for Meliodas. So OF COURSE they wanted to do that thing. Meliodas went “so hey (fucked up scenario) happened and I’m gonna deal with it alone. Cut you outta my life in the process. Gonna become the Demon King. I know I said I was terrified of doing that and it was the last thing I wanted (and I hate myself so much) but you’re overreacting. I’m totally fine with this course of action.”

And the sins responded, “no. no that’s not fine. I would NOT want to put up with that if I were in your shoes. I’m horrified and concerned. Maybe, maybe you’re being logical about all this and we’re not. But HELL. We love you too much to just stand on the sidelines. You may have hurt us but that won’t stop us from, at the very least, trying to understand the choices you’re making now. We are not going to switch to hating you. And we are not going to stop trying to be there for you.” As a young teen I would have said with full confidence that THAT IS JUST WHAT FRIENDS DO. That is what people who love each other so much, despite all their differences, will do. Try to help in their own messy, imperfect way.

But apparently a lot of people just. Don’t naturally think like that, or try to, when it comes to their friends? ☹️ sad sad for everyone involved. *concern for strangers intensifies*

This is why “power of friendship” stories are so good. It’s sappy but friends really are all that. And it’s SO real and complicated. In real life sometimes all you have is that love in your heart, the desire to see them happy, but you don’t actually have the ability to fight whatever’s actively causing them pain. All you can do is try to be there for them but you wish you could DO something more, be a better friend to them, anything to combat the sense of hopelessness you feel when you know the world isn’t as kind to the people you love as it should be. And you don’t know how to make them happy. You just want them to be happy. And you’re thinking, isn’t love action?

10/10 would do what the sins did. In real life you never get a chance to just. tackle a source of a loved one’s pain head on by beating it into the ground with the strength of your feelings and your resolve. Your friend genuinely seeming to not understand how much they matter, how loved they are? One of the worst person to person experiences ever.

“It would be better for you if you didn’t care so much” - an ex best friend. A throwaway line about our friendship in the school hallway, the gist of which haunted me for years. I hope she’s going to be okay.

seven deadly sins chapter 242

[sad-brunnettee]

Caribbean Queen

Billy Hargrove x reader

Word count: 2313

A/n: I’m sorry guys I really tried to keep this short but it ended up being super long. Let me know what you thought of it.

Warning: ST4 spoilers, mention of death

Max convinced you, Steve, Dustin and Billy to take her to her counselor’s house. Hoping that she will get some answers to the two previous deaths that occurred in Hawkins. You were t a big fan of their ideas most of the time, scared that something bad will happen if you ever got caught.

As Billy’s car got totaled you guys had no other option but to go on Steve’s car. As you guys were driving, your head started to hurt and it kept on getting worse. With no signs of it stopping anytime soon. The car movement caused your vision to blurry. You leaned your head on Billy’s shoulder to ease the pain. Oblivious to your pain he smiled down towards you and kissed your forehead before putting his head on top of yours.

Steve parked the car a few houses away from where the counselor lives. Max was the only one who got out while the rest of you stayed put. Your headache stopped hurting which caused you to sit up straight and lean your head back. Billy leaned forward and kept his eyes on the house where Max went.

Lifting up your arm to draw small circles on his back you saw as he slowly relaxed. You knew he was worried about her and so we’re you, there’s only one thing that helps ease his nerves. You began to play with his hair while humming Caribbean Queen by Billy Ocean.

Once Billy recognized the song he started to chuckle causing you to stop your movements.

“What’s so funny?” You asked knowing what his response will be.

“I just don’t understand why you like that song so much.” He said with a shake of his head but there was a small smile laying on his lips.

“I love it, it’s super catchy. Plus I’ve told you that it reminds me of you. His name stage name is Billy as well and his last name is ‘Ocean’. You come from Cali, I’m sure you’re smart enough to make a connection.”

“Hm, yeah i guess that makes sense.”

You both have lost track of how many times you’ve had this conversation. It always ended the same way:

“Some rock music would be better.” As he spoke he glanced at you before returning his gaze back to the house. Noticing that Max was on her way he let out a sigh of relief.

Max explained her plan to everyone of course not everyone was onboard with the idea. Knowing this was the only way to get answers everyone agreed much to your disapproval. It was one thing to steal keys from a staff and it was another thing to break into school.

While you five waited for it to be nighttime you all decided to head to your house and go over the plan once more. Your parents weren’t home yet which gave you all enough freedom.

Pecking Billy on the lips you told him you’d be right back, just needed to go to the restroom. Walking away from the group you could still hear Dustin and Steve arguing over who knows what.

Opening the door, you walked in and it was as if you suddenly walked into another dimension. Your breathing started to speed up, the chiming of a clock made you jump. You heard someone trying to open the door and you walked to open it.

“Billy?” You asked but when you did a loud scream escaped from your mouth at seeing the monster in front of you.

You somehow managed to close the door and lock it before it got inside. Backing to the wall you slid down and couldn’t help but start to cry.

You closed your eyes and prayed for everything to go back to normal. Another knock came to the door and when you opened your eyes you noticed you were back. No longer trapped.

“Babe, you ok? You’ve been in there for a while.” Billy was finally here, knowing how concerned he was about Max you decided to not tell him what you just experienced.

“Yeah- I’m fine just felt a little nauseous.” You had to clear your throat before continuing. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

With that you got up and washed your face with cold water in an attempt to get rid of your red face.

Opening the door you jumped once more when you noticed that Billy was there waiting for you. He walked up to you and cupped your face. His eyes were filled with concern and there was a small furrow on his eyebrows.

Shit, you didn’t mean to make him more worried that he already was.

“I’m ok, they’re just cramps.” You tried to think of something believable. Which seemed to convince him.

“Let’s get you some Tylenol.” He wrapped an arm around your waist and walked you to the kitchen. You couldn’t help but glance back to the bathroom, waiting for the monster to attack again.

A few hours have passed and it was time to go back in Steve’s car and break into school. As you sat in the backseat next to Billy you held onto his hand. You wanted to tell everyone about what you saw when you were back home. Each time you opened your mouth to say something, the words got stuck in your throat.

Max got out of the car first followed by the rest. For someone who never broke into a building she seemed pretty confident, she pulled out the keys and unlocked the door.

You never thought you’d ever break into the school you once went to. Being there brought you good and bad memories.

Once Max opened the door that led to Ms. Kelly’s room you all walked in and noticed a lot of cabinets and papers on her desk.

“What exactly are we looking for again?” Steve asked as he held some papers on his hands.

“Anything that mentions Chrissy, we have to know what she spoke to Ms. Kelly about.” Max was holding a flashlight on one hand and used her other hand to open a cabinet.

You walked over to her and helped her look through the list of students. There was one that caught your attention, it read ‘Fred Benson’. He was the second teenager found dead near the trailer park.

“I found Fred Bensons file.” You said as you got it out and started to open it.

“I found Chrissy’s.” Max said as she also took out a file. You both walked over to the desk and set both documents down. Max started to flip through them until she got to a certain page. There in Ms. Kelly’s handwriting said ‘symptoms’ followed by a short list.

Max reread them over and over again until finally looking at you guys.

“The same symptoms that Fred and Chrissy had before their deaths. I’ve been having the same for a while now.” She looked up at her eyes were filled with fear.

“What are the symptoms?” Dustin asked

“Headaches, nosebleeds, nightmares and past trauma.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, deciding to take a look for your own. You grabbed the papers and confirmed what Max said. Noticing that you were also suffering the same symptoms you started to get nervous.

“I’ve also been having these… visions but it doesn’t say here anything about that.” Max’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

Looking up to her you asked “what kind of visions?”

She looked at you and then at the rest who also wanted to know.

Taking a deep breath she said “It’s almost as if I was transported to a different dimension. Everything is dark and you’re all alone but then a creature. A monster, shows up and there’s no way of escaping. I’m not sure how I got out of that trance if I’m being honest.”

As she finished all of you looked at each other with worry. But there was something you wanted to know.

“Did you also hear a clock chiming?” Your voice was low yet they all heard. Their heads looked up towards you rather quickly.

“Yeah I heard it, how do you-“

“I’ve had the same symptoms too.” You cut her off and looked towards Billy who was nodding his head.

“Now that you say it, you have been whimpering in your sleep and have had nosebleeds.”

The following day Nancy and Robin had a plan to visit Victor and hopefully be able to get some answers. While they did that, everyone thought it would be a good idea to stay over at your house. Although everyone was anxious, it seemed that Billy was suffering the most. Not only could he potentially loose Max but now you as well.

“Do you guys want a snack?” You asked as you stood up, ready to head to the kitchen and grab something.

“Some chips will be nice, thanks.” Dustin spoke but received a light punch on the arm by Steve.

“I-I mean no thank you I’m fine.” He said as he went back to playing with his shoe laces.

“We’ll I’m going to get some popcorn, let me know if you change your mind.” You started to walk when Steve once again hit Dustin.

“I can go ahead and do that for you y/n” He got up quickly and softly kicked Steve before turning towards you and offering you a smile before leaving.

You had no other option but to sit back down but as you did, everything went dark and you once more heard the chiming of a clock. The only difference was that now you heard a voice, one you’ve never heard before calling your name.

“Y/n I’m here to take your pain away.” The voice spoke and it sent shivers down your spine. Turning your head you came face to face with the monster. You screamed and tried to run away but the vines on the ground stopped you from going anywhere.

“Y/n do you want caramel or buttered popcorn?” Dustin came out from the kitchen holding up two packets on both hands. Upon getting no response from you everyone became aware of your eyes rolling behind your head as you sat there.

Everyone got up and started to shake your shoulders hoping you would come back. Nothing seemed to work as you stayed there.

“Dustin where’s your radio? We need it damn it where is it?” Steve started yelling while getting up and looking around.

“Please leave me alone, leave us alone.” You begged as tears rolled down your face.

You felt a pointy finger caress your cheek “Poor naive and weak y/n. You were never capable of fighting back.”

You continued to whimper while trying to get away from his touch. Suddenly you could see some bodies on the vines next to you. It was Fred and Chrissy, you were sure you would be joining them soon.

Vecna closed his eyes and placed his large hand over your head, he raised you above the ground only to have more vines wrap around your body. He lifted his hand higher, his way of choking you.

“There’s no escaping now y/n”

“Robin, Nancy do you guys copy?” Dustin’s voice was getting raspy, he wasn’t sure how many times he has screamed. Begging for them to answer.

Slowly your body began to rise and they knew they were running out of time.

“Robin, Nancy! We don’t have much time, y/n is levitating!”

Finally Robin was able to answer.

“You have to play her favorite song!”

At this point everyone’s attention went from you to Billy. Urging him to think quick and tell them what your favorite song is.

“It’s-its Caribbean Queen by Billy Ocean.” As he said that everyone ran over to your vinyl collections.”

You couldn’t help but keep on begging, you weren’t ready to die. You had suffered enough when Billy almost died and you couldn’t imagine the pain he would suffer.

She passed by me in painted-on jeans

And all heads turned ‘cause she was a dream

Your eyes were wide open when you heard the song coming from somewhere unknown. Looking behind Vecna, you saw through a portal as the group stood below you.

Vecna also looked and couldn’t help but laugh, he raised his hand higher causing your body to raise higher and for your breath to come out in short gasps. You saw as Billy raised the volume, hoping it will help you come back to them.

Now we’re sharing the same dream

And our hearts they beat as one

Except yours, your heart would soon stop beating. You had to fight back somehow and return back to Billy.

Electric eyes that you can’t ignore

And passion burns you like never before

You managed to give Vecna a hard kick to his stomach which caused his hold on you to stop.

You took this as your opportunity to start running towards the portal.

Billy’s eyes that always look at you with so much love now only held sadness at the thought of you dying.

“Please, please come back to me I’m begging you.”

No more love on the run

I lose my cool when she walks in the room

You ran with all your strength wanting nothing more but to be held in Billy’s arms. Laugh with Dustin, argue with Steve over something stupid and take care of Max.

With a gasp of air you fell from the air and landed on top of Billy, knocking yours and his air out of your lungs. You held onto him for dear life and cried on his shoulder.

She’s the Queen

My Caribbean Queen

“It’s ok I’m here, nothing bad will happen to you again.”

At this point everyone else joined in on the hug. You knew Vecna will be back for you and Max, you just hoped he won’t succeed.

[jjacob]

all i want for christmas is you

❝ the school had started to take notice of you. lee juyeon, however, had always noticed. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee juyeon x fem!reader (ft. best friend!lee minho)

GENRES ▸ fluff, high school au, sports au, best friends to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ mild profanity but !! lots of !! fluff !! 

SUMMARY ▸ the bet was simple: find a date to the winter ball. the only problem was that juyeon didn’t want just any girl. he wanted you.

PLAYLIST ▸ all i want for christmas is you by mariah carey

WORD COUNT ▸ 5055 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ merry christmas! this is a gift for addy @honeyju​ the biggest juyeon simp ik !! ily addy i am excited/scared/not emotionally ready to read the minho one which ! btw y’all should read here bc our stories are loosely connected! also disclaimer: i know jack shit ab football but i tried

LEE JUYEON TENDED TO REGRET HALF THE THINGS HE SAID SOMETIMES. 

In eighth grade, Juyeon’s sense of humor was largely self-deprecating and consisted of saying he wanted to die at the slightest inconvenience. But, with his spectacular timing, he let the joke slip in front of a teacher once and froze up upon seeing her concerned expression. Juyeon later received a note from the counselor’s office and had to convince them that he was perfectly fine.

In tenth grade, Juyeon had grown past his phase of dark humor and moved onto high school football. He made the cut for the team the previous year, and managed to make it on the varsity team by the time he was a sophomore. In the beginning of the season, they asked who wanted to be captain the next year, and Juyeon boldly declared that he did. Thus, he was ridiculed and sentenced to pick up balls and clean up the gym after every practice from then on.

Now, as a high school junior in the varsity football team, Juyeon had screwed himself over by making a stupid bet with his best friend, Lee Minho.

Lee Minho was, in short, a conniving bastard. Juyeon never should have trusted him and gone along with his antics. The mere thought of what he had gotten himself into was enough to send his heart into overdrive.

The bet sounded simple enough: find a date to the Winter Ball.

Of course, it was easier said than done, but Juyeon was a star athlete and had girls sliding in his DMs left and right. He could easily find a date if he wanted to, and, honestly, Juyeon only needed to send a few texts and he would probably be secured for the dance. The problem was, however, that Juyeon only wanted you.

Minho was well aware of Juyeon’s pitiful, unrequited love towards you. It was probably the reason he suggested the bet; his best friend either wanted to see him miserable or see him score a chance with you. Either way, Juyeon wasn’t sure his heart was ready to shoot his shot.

Juyeon had crushed on you ever since you sat next to him in the seventh grade and let him borrow your pencil. It was such a silly start to his admiration for you, but his feelings grew stronger when the both of you actually became friends. You were so bright when you laughed, so sweet when you spoke, and so adorable when you smiled. Juyeon had never felt this way about anyone else and always got butterflies when he saw you. Juyeon was never one to chase after girls but he would find himself constantly thinking about what you were up to and having several internal dilemmas over whether he should ask you to hang out or not.

Five years later and Juyeon still harbored feelings for you. Now, they had matured into something deeper, but you still racked his brain nevertheless. It didn’t help that you had a major glow-up in high school and were probably the most beautiful person Juyeon had ever seen.

The school started to take notice of you.

Juyeon, on the other hand, had always noticed.

“Are you sure we can finish a medium before practice?” Minho asked Juyeon, setting a box of pizza on the table in front of him. “Also, I saw Y/N by the gym earlier.”

Juyeon perked up. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” Minho replied, grabbing a slice of pepperoni pizza for himself. “You know what day it is, right?”

Minho took a bite out of his pizza, observing Juyeon with a raised brow. His best friend was on the baseball team but treating themselves to pizza had become a monthly ritual. Despite being on different teams, he was closer to Minho than his football teammates.

“Thursday?”

“And that means?”

Right.

Juyeon had formulated an elaborate plan to ask you out during the football game today, but, of course, it all depended on whether their team won or not. It would have been kind of ridiculous to propose after a loss. On the bright side, he knew he could count on the fact that you’d actually be present considering you were a cheerleader.

But what if you already had a date? You surely hadn’t mentioned it to him or posted about it on social media, so he was riding on an assumption that you haven’t been asked. That was bizarre to Juyeon, though, because you were the prettiest person he had ever seen. However, it was true that you were gradually getting popular, and that made Juyeon a touch nervous.

“I ask her out tomorrow,” Juyeon breathed out. “Am I ready for this?”

Minho scoffed lightly. “Are you ever?”

Juyeon frowned at his best friend, scrunching up his nose at his distasteful comment. “What about you? Have you gotten a date?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Juyeon sighed. That was probably all he would get out of Lee Minho today. Once Minho set his mind on something, he carried it out diligently until the end. Juyeon honestly had no idea who he wanted to bring since Minho didn’t like talking about girls he was interested in, but he supposed it wasn’t that big of a deal as long as his best friend was happy.

It wasn’t like Juyeon was never going to hear about his friend’s endeavors. After all, he did pick up on Minho’s slow descent from an apathetic individual to a whipped ball of fluff. If Juyeon mentioned that to his best friend, however, he would probably be ridiculed for consistently being whipped for you since the seventh grade.

Juyeon nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of his ringer going off. He scrambled to pull his phone out of his pocket, ignoring Minho’s teasing smirk at the sight of his frazzled self.

y/n: hey :) i’m gonna drop off some gingerbread cookies my mom made after practice so lmk when i can come over

Juyeon must have saved a country in a past life for this kind of luck.

juyeon: i love your mom’s cookies. you can come over whenever you’d like

y/n: how about we walk home together after practice?

juyeon: sounds good to me

Now, the pizza was starting to make his mouth water, but if you were walking home with him, Juyeon was ready to drop it and run to see you even though he loved pizza. But Juyeon loved you more than he loved pizza, and he believed that was true love.

“She made me cookies,” Juyeon announced.

“She made you cookies,” Minho repeated, leaning forward in surprise.

“Well, her mom did, but yeah.”

Minho turned his attention back to his pizza. “So this is about your mommy kink again.”

“I don’t have a fucking mommy—why would you say that?” Juyeon cried out, kicking his friend’s shin under the table.

“You don’t? Last time I checked, she was making dinner in the kitchen when I came over yesterday.”

“I’m talking about the kink!”

Yet, even a silly back-and-forth with Minho couldn’t get Juyeon down from his high over you. He was still processing the fact that you were going to walk home with him and, if Juyeon played his cards right, maybe he could get a feel of how comfortable you would be if he asked you out during the game tomorrow.

Minho snickered. “You look happy.”

Juyeon couldn’t even mask his lovesick smile and flushed cheeks. He folded his arms on the table in front of him and buried his face in them, his head spinning at the thought of you.

“Shut up, Minho.”

The only problem with you being on the cheerleading team was that you were extremely distracting.

Juyeon was the star quarterback and frankly, it was kind of pathetic that the one thing that kicked him in the ass was seeing you in the knee socks and pom-poms. It didn’t help that you were a flyer so Juyeon’s stomach pitted with anxiety whenever he saw you being thrown up and whenever he heard a scream coming from the direction of the cheerleaders.

Today was different, though. Juyeon could care less about the screams and falls from the corner of the field. All he could think about was you and how he was going to ask you out. If his plan was going to work, it was going to draw a lot of attention and be quite embarrassing if it failed.

All of his confidence got knocked down with a single sweep when he saw someone asked you to the dance.

One of the cheerleaders broke into a fit of giggles at the sight, clasping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god!”

You were frozen stiff, an awkward smile on your face as the guy walked onto the field with a sign and about a dozen roses. Juyeon could feel his heart sinking to the ground with each step the guy took, with each second his smile grew brighter.

“Is he seriously confessing during practice?” Sohn Youngjae asked, brows furrowed as he rested his arm on Juyeon’s shoulder. “That’s real brave.”

“What’s his deal doing it here? He isn’t even on the team,” Juyeon said, coming off more bitter than he had expected.

Younghoon scoffed. “It’s a bold move. He must be confident that Y/N’s going to say yes.”

Juyeon squared his shoulders. He was conflicted with the swell of anger and deflation of you possibly being taken, but nevertheless, all he could do was watch helplessly as you were being asked out. From where they were on the field, Juyeon couldn’t hear much, but he could see your reactions quite well. The wolf-whistles and cheers were pissing him off, but he was fixed on you.

He turned to look towards Minho, who was practicing on the field adjacent to theirs. His best friend met his gaze immediately like they had some form of exclusive telepathic communication. Minho nodded towards you and raised a brow, as if nudging Juyeon to go interrupt them. That, however, was something he was far too cowardly to bring himself to do.

Your voice resounded clearer than Juyeon had expected.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologized sincerely, ducking your head and keeping your hands entwined behind you. “I’m not interested, but I do appreciate the gesture.”

Juyeon felt a weight lift off of his chest. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve felt relieved that you shot him down or nervous that you rejected an attractive, confident guy who clearly liked you. However, he soon had no time to mull over that when the guy’s reaction was getting more aggressive than crestfallen.

“Y/N, I asked you out in front of all these people,” he said with a distasteful laugh. “Are you seriously rejecting me right now?”

“Sorry, I just don’t want to go with you,” you replied firmly, voice dropping as you became more conscious of your surroundings. “I’m sorry it had to be public but you didn’t really give me a choice.”

For a split second, Juyeon wondered how he could still hear you when you were practically muttering at this point, and then he realized that he started walking to you without even realizing. His feet carried him unknowingly, hand balled at his side and eyes stony and trained on the guy.

“You could’ve just accepted it and told me later that you didn’t want to go with me,” he said with a scoff. “It’s like you enjoy humiliating others publicly.”

Your teammates rushed forward to argue and fend him off while you opened your mouth to protest, but Juyeon was faster, moving in front of you so he was head-to-head with the guy.

“She said she’s not interested,” he said with a threatening undertone, wondering where he managed to muster up the courage to be this assertive.

You were visibly shocked by Juyeon’s actions, and he couldn’t even blame you because he was equally just as surprised as you were. Yet, all he could do was glare daggers down at the other guy with steely eyes and frown until he backed off.

“Thanks,” you said softly once the guy had left.

Juyeon was flustered by all the girls giggling behind you but was amazed by how cool and collected you remained despite that. He turned to you, eyes softening and shoulders relaxing. He knew he was getting an earful about this from his teammates after practice and most definitely from Minho as well.

“No problem,” Juyeon replied, cheeks red. “He was bothering you. I couldn’t just ignore it.”

“That was really sweet of you, Juyeon.” You bit back a smile and suggested, “Meet you at the front gates after practice?”

“See you then.”

Even though Juyeon could’ve spent the rest of practice talking to you, he sprinted back as fast as he could because his cheeks were only getting redder as the cheerleaders gushed about what he did for you. He could hear their gossip and whispering even as he was running back to his team. Juyeon was positive he wouldn’t escape the embarrassment, though, because Lee Jaehyun was smirking at him when he got back.

“You’re blushing, dude.”

Juyeon shoved him.

There was a universal law that was newly decreed. It read: Lee Minho shall never text, call, or speak to Lee Juyeon whenever Y/N was around.

The reason for that being the fact that Juyeon was easily embarrassed and Minho’s texts were not helping his case. He felt it was rude enough to check his phone while he was walking with you, but every time he saw a notification flash, his eyes widened with sheer distress over Minho’s texts.

minho: like three people asked me if you and y/n are fucking bc of what you pulled during practice today

minho: wait are y’all fucking and just not telling me

minho: i knew it was sus that she was coming over to your house

juyeon: fake news!! stop making me feel shy :(

Juyeon decided he had enough Lee Minho for today and turned off his phone.

“That was honestly the coolest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” you gushed to Juyeon as you walked home with him, fingers looped around the straps of your backpack. “Way cooler than you punting footballs.”

“No need to flatter me,” Juyeon replied coolly but his shy smile and red-tipped ears said otherwise. “That guy was being unnecessarily aggressive.”

“His proposal was out of nowhere!” you exclaimed. “I don’t get what he expected me to do.”

Juyeon smiled through the pain. Lord, give me strength, he prayed to whatever divine power was out there.

“Are you not interested in having a date to the dance then?” Juyeon asked, looking down at you curiously.

You paused for a moment and Juyeon thought his heart would stop in anticipation for your answer. Come to think of it, he had never seen you go to a school dance with a date before. You were always with your friend group. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to see you stick with them, but Juyeon was hoping he could change that.

“Well,” you started, “if the right person asked me then I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Juyeon couldn’t exactly read your smile but it made him want to faint. The rest of the walk back home was spent talking about school and football, but Juyeon couldn’t get your answer to his question out of his head. He even walked past his house because his head was so full of you, resulting in you needing to stop him and tell him that they had already reached his place.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” Juyeon’s mom chirped with a good-natured smile. “How has your mom been?”

Juyeon’s eyes widened upon the realization that they never stopped by at your place first to get the cookies. He opened his mouth to interject but you went on to answer.

“She’s been great, Mrs. Lee,” you replied, smiling just as big, and pulled out a box of cookies from your bag. “She wanted me to give these to you.”

“That’s so sweet! Give her my thanks,” his mom replied and opened the door wider once she accepted the cookies. “Come in for some tea, will you?”

Juyeon was practically frozen at the doorway while you were taking off your shoes and walking inside. If you had the cookies with you this entire time, then why didn’t you just give them to him to take home himself? Unless you were worried about the courtesy, it was a bit out of your way to take the time to walk home with Juyeon to deliver them.

“Juyeon, what are you doing out there?” his mom asked. “Come inside. It’s cold.”

“Right.”

Having you over at his house wasn’t exactly the sparkly fantasy that Juyeon thought it would be.

He was getting quite jealous of your mom hogging all of your attention. It wasn’t like you and Juyeon drifted apart during high school, so he wasn’t sure why his mom had to pull you away from him and have her own conversation with you. The worst part was that Juyeon couldn’t even join in on the conversation. He had no idea what they were even talking about.

That is, until his mom brought up the dance.

“Do you have a date, Y/N?” Juyeon’s mom asked.

“I don’t,” she replied. “I usually just go with my friends.”

“You’re so pretty, though,” Mrs. Lee tutted. “I’m sure someone must’ve asked you out.”

“Actually, someone asked me today,” you said. There was a moment of silence as you looked over at Juyeon while his gaze bore into yours. For a moment, you were struggling for what to say, mouthing words that weren’t being processed. Juyeon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly once you regained your composure. “Juyeon actually helped me out.”

Mrs. Lee straightened up. “My son did?” She looked amused as she turned to Juyeon.

“Yeah,” you answered, grinning. “He was really cool.”

Juyeon blushed darkly once their eyes were on him. “W-what? I couldn’t ignore it. I wasn’t even doing that much. I was just helping out. You know, being a decent person,” he rambled and stood up. “Anyways, isn’t it getting late? Mom, Y/N has to go home soon and it’s gonna be pitch black outside if you keep her here.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Mrs. Lee frowned as she peered out the window. “Juyeon, you walk her home then.”

“What?” he sputtered out, looking between you and his mom before he caved, muttering, “I’ll go get my jacket.”

After an exchange of goodbyes, you had stepped out of the house and waited while Juyeon was slipping his shoes on. There was a moment of struggle where he had tied his laces too tight and couldn’t get the shoe on but he managed to slip it on after a few seconds of internal screaming. Juyeon zipped up his jacket the moment he stepped outside, the brisk coldness making his goosebumps rise.

“You really don’t have to walk me back,” you told Juyeon. “It’s cold outside.”

“It’s really late,” Juyeon replied, rubbing his hands together in hopes that the friction would provide some heat. “You shouldn’t be walking home by yourself, and I really don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, ducking your face. “For this, for what you did during practice—everything.”

Juyeon was glad that you weren’t looking at him because his mouth was opening and closing over and over again like a fish. He was also thankful for the fact that he could blame the dust of pink across his cheeks on the cold winter bite. Unfortunately, you lived close by so Juyeon didn’t have time to come up with a cool response and he didn’t want to leave things like this. There was a good vibe going on and he was upset that he couldn’t act upon it; when it came to you, Lee Juyeon was a coward.

“Um, we’re here so…” Juyeon trailed off when he turned to you, sort of thrown off by how beautiful you looked with your windswept hair and flushed cheeks. Dazed, he reached forward and moved a strand of your hair out of your face. “It’s good I walked you home and you’re not like, lost or… something—I’ll shut up now.”

You laughed, and it was an octave higher as if you were rattled from him touching your hair. “Ah, yes, a few streets down can be a harrowing trek.”

Juyeon laughed with you before his eyes settled on you. Your hands were crossed, rubbing your arms that were prickled with goosebumps. A wave of guilt washed through Juyeon and led him to strip his jacket off immediately. He ignored the piercing chill and put his jacket around your shoulders, making sure they covered your bare arms.

“My house is right here,” you argued. “You’re going to be cold.”

“Keep it on. I have something to tell you after the game,” Juyeon said firmly. It was his second burst of courage for you today and he was a little too amped up for his own good. “If you don’t like it then give me back my jacket tomorrow.”

Before you could respond, Juyeon turned on his heel and bolted home, the biggest grin across his face because he was head-over-heels for you.

Juyeon had never been so nervous in his life.

The game was underway, Juyeon’s leg bouncing as he eyeballed the scoreboard. His team was strong in the first two quarters, cutting it close by the third, but now they were neck-to-neck. They had ended with a tie and now they decided to go into overtime for the sake of choosing a winner for the game. It was a sudden death round so whoever scored first would win the game. Juyeon, however, found it difficult to concentrate.

Especially with Lee Minho breathing down his back.

“Are you ready?” his best friend asked.

“Yes—well, no, but I don’t really have a choice.”

“That’s true.”

“I already made the sign and told the team and everything,” Juyeon whined. “I really screwed myself over, Minho.”

Minho pushed at the back of his head. “Dude, I’m talking about the game.”

“Oh, that—that’s fine,” Juyeon stammered. “Fifteen minutes—we just have to win, and then I have to ask out the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

“You could chicken out,” Minho suggested, “but that also comes with me never letting you live it down.”

“You see, I kind of already implied that I’m going to tell her something important.”

“You did?” Minho’s voice was somewhere between shocked and impressed.

“Shit, I gotta go,” Juyeon muttered, pushing himself off the bench. “Keep the poster safe for me!”

“Good luck, champ!”

Juyeon, sweaty and bangs sticking to his forehead, had to ignore every distraction and think about winning the game before his stomach threw itself into a pool of anxiety over asking you out. He got in a huddle with his team in the remaining fifteen seconds they had before they had to get in formation and lowered the facemask of his helmet. It was up to this one last play to determine whether they would win the game or not.

“Just like we practiced, alright?” Juyeon told them. “Double-wing power pass. We get them to bite thinking it’s a run play and then open up a passing lane.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Jaehyun cheered, and the rest of them put in their mouth guards and lowered their facemasks.

Juyeon took a shaky breath as he got in formation at the line of scrimmage. His heart was racing but he wasn’t sure it was about the game. Nevertheless, he steeled his nerves and held his ground. The whistle blew and the crowd was silent, observing the tension on the field carefully.

“Silver-80! Silver-80! Hut! Hut! Hike!” Juyeon yelled, and the center, Sangyeon, snapped the ball to him.

Juyeon faked a handoff to Jaehyun, the fullback, and spun around, rolling to his right. Changmin sped up in front of Juyeon to defend him. A smile tugged at Juyeon’s lips. Their plan was working just as he intended, but there was a problem: they couldn’t open up a passing lane for the running backs like he thought they would. The play was too rushed, so it wasn’t ever a guarantee.

So Juyeon had to do what he would normally deem crazy.

He spun at the sight of the other team coming to tackle him and skirted around the field, belting down the field. He dodged past another linebacker that tried to body him. His primary motivation was that he didn’t want a concussion before he confessed to you, but he assumed it was okay to admit that to himself as long as he didn’t throw the game.

Juyeon felt a hand grab him but he pushed forward, running across the goal line and into the end zone. He threw the ball down and cried out in joy as he scored a touchdown. The whistle blew and the scoreboard flipped. They won.

He did it.

Juyeon’s team ran to him, cheering at the top of their lungs. He was lifted up on Jaehyun and Younghoon’s shoulders, grinning happily before his heart sunk back down. The cheerleaders ran to the field, cheering and tossing their pom poms up. The crowd was roaring. Juyeon was realizing that he had to do the scariest thing that a heterosexual teenage boy ever had to experience.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun,” Juyeon tapped his shoulder quickly. “We have no time. I have to do it now.”

“Oh shit.”

Jaehyun and Younghoon dropped Juyeon onto the turf. Juyeon winced at the sudden impact, gathering himself back to his feet and hoping you didn’t witness that. Jaehyun gave him a half-assed apology and pushed him forward to run and get his poster and flowers from Minho. Jaehyun then grabbed Changmin by the shoulders, urging him to go to the announcer’s booth.

Juyeon sprinted over to Minho, waving his hands dramatically. “Give, give, give,” he demanded amongst all the cheering.

Minho didn’t waste any time and pushed the poster and bouquet into Juyeon’s hands. “Break a leg, tiger.”

“Trust me, I nearly did.”

Juyeon jogged back onto the field, cheeks hot and head a little dizzy for what was about to come. He didn’t even tell his mom he was going to ask you out and she had to watch her son ask his best friend out to the dance. This was probably going to be a moment of utter humiliation but once Juyeon saw you in your high ponytail with a bright smile on your face, all that fear faded away and it was just you and him.

More importantly, you were wearing his jacket over your uniform and Juyeon felt like he was going to combust from the cuteness.

“Guys, guys,” Jaehyun called to the team. “Surround Juyeon. Make sure Y/N doesn’t see him.”

Juyeon’s heart was beating a hundred miles per second. He was glad he was running on the adrenaline from winning the game because otherwise, he would be cowering in fear and sweating buckets right now.

“Everyone, listen up!” Changmin spoke over the intercom. “First of all, the football team scored a major dub today—ow! Sunwoo, cut it out—alright, I’ll get to it!” Changmin broke from the mic and started bickering with Sunwoo.

There was a pause, and Juyeon was surprised to hear Minho’s voice fill the speakers, “Anyways, my buddy and our star quarterback, Juyeon, has something to say for a special someone.”

The crowd fell silent, a couple cheers and wolf-whistles as it was pretty obvious that a confession was about to happen.

“This is so fucking fluffy,” Sunwoo mumbled.

“Shut up, Sunwoo,” Juyeon replied, nudging him with his elbow.

The football team moved out of the way so that they weren’t huddled around Juyeon anymore. Juyeon’s breath caught in his throat as he walked forward to the middle of the field, holding up his sign, reading: Will you be my sunshine?

“Y/N,” he called out loudly, “honestly this confession is long overdue, but will you go to Winter Ball with me tonight and be my sunshine?”

The crowd started cheering and whistling again, and Juyeon wanted to die. She hadn’t even given him her answer yet and everyone was acting like she had agreed and they eloped. The cheerleaders pushed Y/N forward and she approached Juyeon, looking like a deer in headlights.

Juyeon took another shaky breath and continued, “I’ve been in love with you for so long so it would be an honor if I could take you to the dance,” he said and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable for you.”

You bit your lip but that wasn’t enough to contain the happiness that showed on your face. You zipped up Juyeon’s jacket and threw yourself into his arms. Everyone practically exploded but Juyeon was sure his heartbeat was louder. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your shoulder.

Was this what people called a Christmas miracle?

“Oh shit!” Changmin screamed over the intercom. (“Shut up, they’re having a moment,” Minho’s faint voice was picked up in the background).

“Oh my god, you just made me the happiest man alive,” he mumbled.

You pulled back and reached forward to move his damp bangs off of his forehead. “Took you long enough.”

“Wait, did you—did you like me?” Juyeon choked out.

You laughed and cupped his face in your hands. There was a shaky inhale and exhale of breaths when his lips brushed against yours, and Juyeon closed the distance, kissing you like he was starved of your touch. His hold tightened on you as you melted into him, and then you both pulled away, smiling and dazed and lovesick.

You giggled. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” he breathed out, grinning as he brushed his nose against yours.

Juyeon could care less about all the presents and holiday cheer because he had you and you were all he wanted.

[redrobin-detective]

The 101 Deaths of Danny Phantom

AO3 link

One of the first things people learned about dealing with ghosts, other than not to try and date them, is to never asks about their death or obsessions. That doesn’t mean the citizens of Amity Park aren’t curious though, especially about their resident ghostly hero and the confusing and concerning comments he sometimes makes.

“Are you okay?” Phantom asked Maisie as she shook and tried to hold back tears after that car had almost slammed into her. She sometimes joked about getting hit crossing the street of her college campus to pay her obnoxious loans but it was another thing entirely to almost experience it herself. Maisie was nearly twenty, she shouldn’t be comforted by someone younger than her little step sister but here she was, shaking like a lead and leaning into Phantom’s comforting, chilly touch. 

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “thank you, I’m sorry I’m just-”

“Hey, it’s okay to be upset that was very scary. The thought of dying is very scary.” Through her adrenaline and her tears, she took in the ghost’s unnatural glow, his faded, barely visible appearance and the fact that he was floating a foot off the ground. Maisie knows this ghost, this boy, knows more than she ever could about death. 

“And getting run over by a car sure is a bad way to go,” the ghost kid chuckled awkwardly, taking his cold hand off her shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. “You should see how my dad drives or my mom or my sister if she’s running late enough,” Phantom paused in thought. “No one in my family should have a license now that I think about it. Anyway,” he dismissed with a wave. 

“My sister and I were getting ready to head out to school and my dad was backing out of driveway too fast and didn’t see us and uh, luckily I got my sister out of the way in time haha,” Phantom trailed off awkwardly. Was it because of the uncomfortable conversation or because he noticed her dawning horror.

Her best friend ran the community college’s Phan club so Maisie was a member by default. Phantom’s death was sometimes talked about late at night, everything from wrongful murder to a freak accident. She never in her worst nightmares imagined being him being runover in front of his own house by parental ignorance. It was so normal, a quick mistake and a life lost.

“Oh my god,” he said with an adorable little green blush. “Why am I babbling about that? You almost got hit by a car, I’m probably retraumatizing you or something. I should probably go get the jerk who almost hit you,” he said before disappearing into thin air. 

“Tia is not going to believe this,” she whispered to no one. All she knew is that for the rest of her damned life she was going to look both ways when crossing the street. She’d seen first hand what a single moment of reckless driving could cause.

XxX

Matthew, not Matt or Matty or Hughie, Matthew shivered from the cold. He was only in his boxers with little Pacman on them. It had been fine when he’d gone to bed considering it was mid-August but Phantom and this stupid flaming mecha ghost had tussled outside the summer camp he was working at. He could see some of the kids snickering at his state of undress though he was just extremely glad they were alive enough to disrespect him like this.

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the ghost kid said with big, sad eyes that looked so human despite the fact that they were literally glowing. He looked around at all the snow and ice left over from his fight. “Jeez you guys must be freezing, I wish I could warm you all up but all I can do is make things colder.”

“S’okay,” Matthew said through his chattering teeth. “Teaching the kids how to start a fire was supposed to be next week but we can get a jump on it.” That got a smile out of the ghost and within a half hour, the other counselors were distributing blankets and hot beverages to the kids clustered around multiple fires. They didn’t seem particularly upset by the potentially fatal attack, Matthew will breakdown about that at a later time when he was alone. For now, he just smiled as the children chattered happily with the ghost while he cleaned up as much of the damage as possible.

“So you spend all day fighting ghosts?” Zoe asked with stars in her eyes.

“A lot of the nights too,” Phantom nodded, “I do other stuff but yeah it seems ghost fighting takes up most of my time.”

“Where’d you learn those cool powers?” Zuri asked, miming a punch.

“Comes with being a ghost,” Phantom shrugged, “my ice powers came in later though so I still struggle a bit with them but I’m getting better every day.”

“Why ice though?” Morris said with his cocked curiously to the side. “I see some ghosts use fire or shadows, why do you have ice?”

“Ah that’s a little personal,” Phantom chuckled but his posture was easy despite the invasive question. “Specialty powers like my ice require special circumstances and a certain uh connection to the ghost. Someone like me couldn’t use fire or electricity or plants, ice is in my soul, it’s who I am.”

Matthew paused in drinking his lukewarm coffee as a horrible thought came to mind. He’s been an outdoorsman all his life, practically from the time he could walk. He’d been a deep woods camping guide for a decade before switching to working at summer camps. But the years working in the relative comfort of a stable camp didn’t erase his knowledge of how unforgiving and deadly the woods in the winter could be. A grown man, much less a young teen, would freeze to death in 20 minutes if it was cold enough. 

It made sense for ghosts to develop powers related to their deaths. Had Phantom been one of the dozens of unfortunate kids he read about every year who ran away in the middle of winter only to found later as a frozen corpse. He eyed the boy’s snow white hair and frigid aura he exuded with mournful trepidation. God, what a horrible way to die. 

“I’d get chilly with ice powers,” Tabby said with a shudder, she held out her cup of cocoa. “You want some of my cocoa to warm you up?”

“No thanks,” Phantom said with a soft smile that was warm despite everything. “The cold hasn’t bothered me for a while.”

XxX

Ghost attacks may be the norm but, if there was one good thing that came out of whole mess it was the fact that violent human crimes went down drastically. So when the rare murder did happen, the shock and fear rippled through the whole town. 

Stanford Newton had only been sheriff of Amity Park for eight months after the last guy had gone gray overnight and moved to Florida the next day. It was a daunting position but one he bore proudly. This wouldn’t be his first murder investigation having initially cut his teeth as a beat cop in Chicago but it would be the first in Amity. And it certainly was the first in which the dead served in an active capacity.

“Amanda Chastain, 27. Officially she was a waitress down at Spengler’s Diner but she’s been picked up for prostitution twice in the last year,” Stan said calmly, ignoring the cold, angry presence over his shoulder. “History of polysubstance abuse as well, not that either of those things mean she deserved this.” Used, beaten to death and then dumped in the trash like yesterday’s paper. 

He wondered if she’d come back a ghost or if she’d finally get some peace this world hadn’t offered her. “We don’t have many leads right now, I’m afraid. Acting illegally as they are, there’s not a lot of resources these poor girls have to turn to.”

“I’ll find them,” The Phantom said with blazing conviction, his voice thick and sharp as ice. “I’ll find and bring them to justice and make sure no one else is hurt again.”

“I believe you,” Stan nodded, shutting his notebook as he finally turned to face the teenage superhero haunting his town. He can’t say he liked what he saw. The Phantom looked even less human than usual, his aura flaring and flickering like the foggy mist before a heavy snowstorm. His unnatural green eyes glowered, painting his too young face in a terrifying light. 

The kid looked furious, clearly taking this death to heart. He’d read the Fenton’s memos about obsessions and such but this seemed beyond that. “But don’t hurt anyone to do it, or yourself while you’re at it.”

“I won’t, I’ll make sure they’ll face human justice and don’t worry,” Phantom gave a snarling smile. “No mortal can hurt me, not like this,” he growled causing the hairs on Stan’s arms and neck to stand on end. He flew off after that, presumably to track down Amanda’s killer.

“Not like this,” Stan mumbled to him, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow where a cold sweat had broken out. “Jesus Christ that poor kid.” Stan had seen plenty of murdered and mutilated bodies in his lifetime, some of them even kids. He just never got to talk to them after they’d had their life forcibly snatched away. It would explain the ghost’s near fanatical determination to save others, why he took a stranger’s murder so personally. 

“I hope your own murderer is behind bars,” Stan said as he tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Or even six feet under, for killing a good kid like you.” Stan made his way back to his squad car so he could head back to the station and move forward with the official investigation. But he’d eat his hat if there wasn’t a stammering lowlife there by tomorrow ready to turn themselves in.

 Maybe after all this was settled down, he’d delve into some of the cold cases stacked in the cellar. Maybe in there he’ll find a picture of a smiling, carefree teen who’d disappeared and returned with the power now to ensure no one else suffered as he had.

XxX

“Yes, I know about the Phantom,” Luis Oliveira will say to anyone who so much as brings up the ghost kid. Locals know better by now but the tourists eat it up every time. He twists his finely combed mustache and gestures to the floor where his audience is standing. “He died right there oh ten or eleven years ago.”

Luis has worked his way all across the the United States since he emigrated from Brazil in the 70s. He finally settled in Amity Park about twelve years ago. He’d never intended to stay in the small Midwest town but the fatal shooting of a young customer kept his little corner market open.

“He was a nice kid, always said hi to me and paid in exact change. Was big fan of the snacks I made, would stop by after school and take half my inventory. He had big brown eyes and a crooked nose,” Luis would smile at the memory before closing his eyes and frowning sadly. “One day, he came late. His teacher made him stay after to go over a failed test, I remember he complained. He was pulling out his money when robber burst in, demanding my money. I fumbled for the register key, dropped it. I bent down to grab it and I hear shots going off. Two over my head, another right into the boy’s throat.”

Luis will hear the sound of that sweet boy’s guttural choking sounds as he drowned in his own blood until the day he himself died. The robber left after the shot, Luis called the police and held the young man’s hand as he died. The would be thief were never found and Luis never did learn anything about the boy who’d died on his floor for getting hungry after school.

“As soon as I saw Phantom on the TV,” Luis would say, perking up after his moment of somber grief, “I knew it was that boy come back. Those kind eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere. He’s never come here but one day he will and I will be able to pass on my regret on not being able to save his life that day.”

XxX

“I think he killed himself,” Mikey whispered to Lester during lunch period, angling his voice low. “The jocks may love Phantom for his powers but I just know he was one of us, an unwanted nerd. I’ve seen him chatting up a ghost I’m pretty sure is Poindexter, Casper’s suicide kid. They’re probably bonding over their similar deaths and the circumstances that led to it.”

“That’s pretty dark,” Lester whispered back. “I also get unpopular vibes from him but I don’t think he’s the time do uh do that to himself; he’s too stubborn and protective. But I bet he was the victim of a prank gone wrong. Dash locked Fenton in the Janitor’s closet last Wednesday, he got out okay somehow but maybe something like that happened to Phantom. He always looks kind of annoyed at the A-listers, maybe they remind him of old bullies.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clara said, pushing up her glasses with her middle finger. “The ghost kid totally got electrocuted or something. He was fighting that weather ghost and he sent lightning bolts his way and Phantom flinched. He fought the Ghost King and yet a little electricity scares him? It might not’ve even been a lightning strike but something manmade like a machine backfiring or something.”

“Get real,” Mikey scoffed, sipping his milk with an eyeroll. “I’m sure we’d have heard about some poor kid getting zapped to death; this town isn’t that big.”

“We’d have heard about a suicide too,” Lester noted with a wry grin.

“Shut up Mr. I base my theories around Fenton who’s a known weirdo”.

XxX

“I’m telling you, the ghost kid died of some debilitating illness,” Abbie McMillian, retired school teacher and three year reigning champ at the Tristate area’s Daylily Competition. She sipped her tea and spoke with as much confidence as she had back in the day wrangling Amity’s impressionable youths. “The superhero thing is clear wish childhood fulfillment, a chance to live and be free like he never got to in life. You see how happy and carefree that young man looks while flying? Clearly he spent his formative years sick and weak.”

“No way,” Greta von Martin frowned as she aggressively stirred her own tea to show her displeasure. “I worked in a hospital for close to 30 years and I know what chronically sick kids look like and Phantom doesn’t fit the bill. I will agree he’s carefree when he’s not battling spooks but he acts like a stupid teen. I’m telling you, the boy got into his parent’s liquor cabinet or took a few too many of whatever pill was going around his school. Tragic but something that happens every day.”

“Greta, dearie,” Abbie said with a pinched frown. “We’ve been friends since grade school and I love you like a sister but you are wrong and until you admit it, I won’t share anymore of my recipes.”

“You’re just being stubborn because you can’t see what’s right in front of you even after working with kids half of your life, Abbie, love,” Greta sniffed. “And you can kiss my grandson’s help weeding you garden goodbye until you relent.”

XxX

Perhaps one of the most human traits is curiosity, especially about what comes after death. Now the good people of Amity Park know a great deal about the dead so the lives before is what attracts their attention and none so more than the ghost boy. Maybe it’s because he’s their hero or maybe it’s because he’s so young. Or perhaps it’s because Phantom is such a mess of contradictions that it’s very hard to guess how the unfortunate boy met his end. But everyone has their own theories, from the mundane to the fantastic, some with evidence backing them up and others pure poppycock. 

But for all their curiosity, as much as it burns them to know, they’ll never ask. They don’t want to risk the powerful ghost’s wrath but, moreover, it seemed in poor taste. The boy risked his afterlife to keep them safe, they couldn’t ask what traumatic and miserable circumstances had led to this point.

And besides, it was so much more fun to look up at ghostly figure as he sped through the skies and wonder.

[bumblesimagines]

Forgotten Fairytale

Part 3

Request: Yes or No

~

“We have two announcements today. First, we have a new student, (Y/N). As some of you may know, (Y/N) is a dragon-vampire hybrid and I expect each and everyone of you to treat him with respect. To whom it may concern, he is not our next monster. We’ve recently encountered a Night Hag.” Alaric announced to the remaining student body that had chosen not to leave. You kept your arms crossed, making eye contact with Hope. You gave her a triumphant smirk and got an eye roll in return.

“A Night Hag is a malevolent spirit trapped on the astral plane that can only interact with us through dreams. In this case, nightmares.” Alaric explained, murmurs spreading through the students. 

“So, like, Freddy Kruger?” 

“Well, in the sense that what happens to you in your dreams seems to happen to you in real life, yes. But, the good news is we’re safe, so long as we stay awake.” Alaric explained, nodding to the questions. He noticed tension rise and cleared his throat. 

“We’ve lined up more evacuation shuttles. They should be running all afternoon, so please, for those who don’t want to stay and fight, take advantage of them.” Alaric licked his lips. You gave a small snort, biting your bottom lip. Ryan had mentioned a possible run in with monsters but he seemed confident in your abilities to protect yourself. Once you had your father back, you’d make sure he faced some monsters of his own. You stood once Alaric dismissed everyone, noticing him motion for you to come over. With a deep sigh, you walked towards the stage he was on. 

“I’ve got your classes sorted out. You’ll be taking typical high school courses, plus some of the supernatural courses we typically give to everyone. You’ll have some vampire classes and finally, a one-on-one with Dorian to talk about dragons. Dorian insisted on it. I would like you to speak with Emma, she’s one of our teachers and also the counselor for those who need one.” Alaric explained, handing you a paper. You gave it a once over before looking up at him.

“And why would I need to speak with a counselor? I’m perfectly fine.” 

“Considering you walked out on Dorian after a mention of your father, I don’t think you’re fine.” Alaric gave a tight lipped smile, patting your arm as he walked by. You blew a raspberry, looking back down at the paper. 

“Oh, and by the way, these uniforms are horrendous.” You called to him, stepping off the stage and making brief eye contact with Hope as she spoke to Landon. 

“I have to agree with you on the uniforms being horrendous. We look like preppy golf kids.” You looked at the guy walking beside you. 

“All we’re missing are the pants and the golf course.” You grinned, chuckling as the guy nodded and laughed along. 

“I’m Kaleb, by the way. I’m a vampire, so I guess that means I’ll be seeing you around.” Kaleb gave a grin. You hummed, looking forward.

“Man, you and those other dudes got lucky. You don’t have to take these exams.”

“But, we do have to deal with the bullshit this school brings.” You stopped by a water fountain, leaning down and drinking from it. Kaleb leaned against the wall, arms crossing.

“Actually, I think that Landon guy was the one who brought the monsters with him. Things went to shit when he got here and-”

“It’s not Landons fault. The knife had been at this school for god knows how long.” You leaned up, wiping your mouth as your gaze fell on Rafael. 

“Well, like I said, we gotta deal with the bullshit the school brings.”

“And to do that, we have to be a team. We can’t insult or push each other away.” Rafael said, glancing between you and Kaleb. You let out a small snort, grinning as you shook your head. 

“Doesn’t that go against your nature? That’s all mutts know how to do. That and throw temper tantrums.” Kaleb snickered at your words. Rafael sighed, eyes shutting briefly in an attempt to stay calm and relaxed.

“You don’t have to worry about me, puppy. I can be a good teammate as long as you stay out of my way. Same goes for you.” You glanced at Kaleb before turning around and walking away. You walked to your first class, stepping inside and getting ready for a boring day of school.

~~~~~~~~~~

You ran your fingers over the books on the shelves, grabbing one and pulling it out of the shelf. You stepped out of the library and found a nice cushion seat, opening the book and flipping through the pages. You stopped on the one you had been looking for. 

Klaus Mikaelson: The Great Evil

Your eyes swept over the writing, searching for any mention of Hope. She was powerful but she hadn’t become a full tribrid yet. You paused, hearing footsteps coming from the hallway along with someone humming softly.

“Dr. Saltzman!”

“”Dr. Saltzman, I have changed my mind. I’ve decided to take you up on your offer and get the hell out with every other sane person here.””

“No, actually, I took your advice and I stayed busy, and I think I found something.” You lifted your head at Landon’s words, hearing their footsteps head back down the hall. You stood up from your seat, turning your head and watching them turn a corner. You looked down at the book in your hands, gently biting your bottom lip. 

“I definitely didn’t sign up for this… but I might as well enjoy the ride.” You looked back up, heading down the hall and entering the small library where Landon, Hope, and Alaric were at. You leaned against the railing, watching them speak.

“Why would a monster need to disguise itself as another monster? The Oneiroi sounds freaky enough.” Hope said, glancing between Landon and Alaric.

“Because if we knew what it actually was..”

“We’d know how to stop it.” Alaric finished for him, nodding. 

“Hope, kiss him for me.” Alaric said, turning and heading towards the stairs. He looked up, noticing you. He slowed down, head tilting.

“Need something, (Y/N)?” Alaric asked, heading up the stairs. You shook your head, fingers drumming against the book.

“Just eavesdropping.” You shrugged. Alaric let out a small laugh, nodding as he walked by.

“Don’t think you’re off my radar, (Y/N).” Hope called, arms crossing as she cocked a brow at you. 

“I’m honored you care so much about me, Red. It’s real sweet, though I think you should be more invested in your boytoy. Keep your eye on this one, Discount Jughead. She seems to have… a wandering eye. You shouldn’t forget who her mother was in love with.” You gave them a wink, turning around. You stepped towards a bookshelf, sliding the book into the shelf. 

“What about your family? What were they like?” Hope asked, approaching the stairs. You turned to look at her. 

“My mother gave my father a gift and then she left. At least she didn’t die because of me.” You leaned forward slightly as she got closer. Hope stopped a few feet from you, jaw clenching. 

“You know nothing about me.”

“I could say the same, Red. I might’ve been a dick when I was younger but atleast I never tried to kill someone who loves me and raised me. You had a mother who was invested in you and loved you. It would’ve never crossed my mind to hurt my father, no matter how pissed I was.” You sneered, watching her facade begin to crumble. Hope remained silent for a few passing minutes. 

“We should probably tell the others about our new discovery.” Landon piped up softly. Hope turned her head towards him, nodding.

“Yeah, I.. I have a plan.” Hope breathed out, looking back at you.

“Making enemies on your first day is the stupidest idea you’ve probably come up with.” Hope said, brushing past you. Landon slowly walked up the stairs, awkwardly approaching you.

“Hope is a.. She’s a good person-”

“You don’t have to defend her when she’s not around, My Chemical Romance.” You stared at him, giving a small eye roll. 

“Why are you such a dick?”

“Well, my dad told me my mom was a bit of a bitch. I probably got it from her.” You shrugged, turning around and leaving the library. You heard Landon catch up with you.

“I was in the foster system for most of my life. I can understand some of your feelings regarding not knowing your mom and-”

“Listen, Gerard Way, I’m not interested in being your friend. I’ve been taught and shown that humans are the least trustworthy creatures on this planet. It’s better to be alone than to trust a human. They’re like chihuahuas. They think they’re at the top when they’re actually at the bottom and I’d rather not have my life in the hands of one.” You looked at him.

“Fair comparison.” Landon mumbled. “But, some humans are good and they mean well-”

“We can have this conversation after I take a nap.” You entered the lounge area where Hope had gathered the rest of the boys. Hope explained that the Night Hag was actually an Oneiroi. 

“I know it sounds bad, but now that we know what the creature is, we can fight it.”

“How the hell are we supposed to kill a dream demon?”

“Leave that to me. But since I can’t fall asleep without compromising the location of the urn, I need someone else to pull it out of the dream plane and into our waking reality.” Hope explained, looking over everyone. 

“So, Freddy Krueger, like I said.” Another vampire, MG, pointed out.

“And how the hell are we supposed to do that?” Rafael asked, looking back at Hope.

“By entering the dream plane, getting a hold of it, and waking yourself up.” You answered, shrugging lightly.

“Just like in the movies.” MG nodded in agreement to your response. Kaleb hummed, nodding. 

“Is it too late to get on the evacuation bus?” Kaleb asked, tilting his head as you snorted. Hope gave a sympathetic look.

“No. I mean, I’m not gonna ask all of you to stay for this, it has to be your choice.” Hope said, silence following. Landon quickly stood up.

“I’m not leaving unless Hope does.” Landon said. Hope didn’t seem exactly thrilled as she gave a small hum. She looked at Rafael, brows raised in question.

“I’m not leaving Landon behind.” 

“You two are very codependent.” You mumbled, hearing Kaleb snicker and nod. 

“I’m a founding member of the Super Squad-”

“The fuck is a ‘Super Squad’?”

“-So I can’t bail.” MG stood up from his seat with a supporting smile. The four of them turned towards you and Kaleb.

“Y’all are gonna get yourselves killed.” Kaleb said, looking at Hope. 

“But if MG stays, I stay.” He added with a sigh, looking at you. 

“This reeks of drama and chaos so, I’m definitely staying and watching this go down.” You grinned, shrugging lightly. “But I’m not gonna be a member of this.. ‘Super Squad’ shit you have going on.” 

“In that case, it’s naptime.” Hope said, giving a small nod. 

“I’ll go speak with Dr. Saltzman. Get set up in the gym. Bring blankets, pillows, and anything else that might help you fall asleep.” Hope walked past them and Landon quickly followed. 

“Codependency is a big problem here, huh?” You shook your head, glancing at Kaleb. You grabbed one of the pillows off the couch and turned, heading towards the gym. You watched the others bring the necessary stuff, Hope and Landon entering while deep in what seemed like an argument. 

“You are gonna sleep with us, right?” Kaleb asked, noticing you hadn't made a small bed like they had.

“No.” You shook your head, arms crossing.

“What do you mean, no?” Landon frowned, brows furrowing.

“You don’t want to see me wake up from a nightmare. Accidental shifting and accidental arson isn’t pretty.” You shrugged lightly. Hope hummed.

“We don’t need a confused dragon causing an accident.” Hope looked at the rest of the guys. They lied down in a circle, slowly falling asleep one by one. Hope stepped towards you, closely watching each of them. 

“It was a shit move to bring up your mom. I’ve been on edge since dad disappeared.” You said quietly, ignoring the surprised look Hope gave you. 

“Sorry for that.” You walked away from her, careful to be quiet so as to not wake them up. You noticed each of the boys becoming more twitchy, faces contorted in confusion or fear as the hours began to pass. 

“How come you aren’t tired?” Hope asked softly. 

“You think I could sleep with my only family gone?” You looked at her with raised brows. Hope nodded, looking down to see that Rafael, MG, and Kaleb had stopped twitching as much.

“It’s almost time.” Hope turned, quickly leaving the gym. You gently toyed with your necklace, licking your lips and turning to face the boys when they all suddenly awoke. They stood and began talking all at once, making you huff in annoyance.

“Calm down, Hope’s handling it.” 

“What? What the hell-” Landon was cut off by Oneiroi and Hope crashing through one of the doors. Hope quickly got up, blowing some hair out of her face.

“Stay back, I got this.” She called, running forward and tackling the demon before promptly getting choked. 

“Yeah, she’s totally got this.” You mumbled, picking up two wooden pieces that had belonged to the now broken doors. You approached her, stabbing the pieces through the demons’ eyes. Hope let out a gasp for breath as the demon disappeared into a cloud.

“Thank you.” She coughed, rubbing her throat. 

“Next time, be prepared.” You stood, letting Landon help her up as Alaric rushed in with his crossbow. You tossed the wood aside, turning and walking past Alaric. You thought back on the urn and Hope mentioning she knew where it was. Befriending her to find it would be a problem in itself.

“(Y/N)!” Alaric called after you, quickly jogging after you. You turned to face him, raising a brow.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for helping Hope. How’d you know how to kill it?” Alaric asked.

“Like I said, dragons don’t just horde inanimate objects. I like to read as a pastime and most of the time, the books have to do with the supernatural.” You answered, shrugging lightly. Alaric nodded, reaching out and gently touching your arm.

“Thank you.. I’m sure Hope appreciates it.” Alaric gave a small smile. You nodded, licking your lips as Alaric turned and went to check on everyone. He passed by Hope who gave him a small smile and nod. She turned her head to look at you, arms gently wrapping around herself. She slowly approached you, gaze on the ground. 

“I know you could’ve just let me get hurt but.. Thank you for helping me. I know we got off on a terrible foot so, I hope we can be a bit more civil with each other.” 

“We’ll see.”

[stillebesat]

An Unconventional Defeat

Sanders Sides: Patton, Virgil Blurb: Patton knew that heroes started out young, far younger than villains ever did. But this young? Inspiration: From the Anon prompt: “I can take care of myself just fine.” with Virgil. Fic Type: Superhero!AU, Villain!Patton, Hero!Virgil Overall Fic Warnings: Near Death Experiences, Death Talk, Injuries, Hospitals Taglist in Reblogs:

He’s fourteen.

Patton stared down at the prone form of his nemesis, Onyx, in the darkened hospital room, mind racing.

He knew that heroes started out young, far younger than villains ever did. But this young?

Sure, that no good empathy that the heart twinged with seemed to chime all stronger for the children. For those naive fools who were still optimistic about life and wanted to believe that good would always win out in the end. That being good was the best way to live your life. That you could change the world for the better.

Patton had been a fool like that. Once.

He’d wanted to be a teacher. Once. Be an example to the rising generation. Once.

And then he’d had his eyes forcibly opened in college to just how cruel and heartless the world actually was. Goodness only got trampled. Squashed. Taken advantage of. Goodness only got used until it wasn’t useful anymore and then got dumped like so much trash. If one wanted to change the world permanently. One couldn’t do so by being good.

Kids though?

The poor fools didn’t realize that yet. That being good wasn’t well...good. For anyone. Hero work? Pointless. Especially with how active Patton was in the city.

Hero work didn’t put food on the table. Hero work didn’t pay the bills. It was a thankless never ending job.

A job that landed a fourteen year old in the hospital with head trauma, a broken leg, arm, fractured ribs, and multiple puncture wounds in the shoulders and abdomen that had only avoided killing the kid by sheer dumb luck.

A fourteen year old that Patton had been fighting for a good three years now, not that he’d known that until nine hours ago.

Onyx had always snarked at him in a deep distorted voice, had always been covered by an ever shifting melee of shadows that never showed just who was manipulating the darkness around him.

He growled under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. Eleven. The kid had been freaking eleven when he’d first shown up to stop Patton from razing the police department to the ground.

No wonder Onyx had been so ferocious in defending the place. He’d still been of an age to see the cops as fellow heroes. The good guys. He hadn’t yet discovered their darker side. Just how much like school ground bullies most of them could be to the weak.

Patton clenched his hands, conscious of the frost coating his fingertips, of the room getting noticeably colder. “You’re an idiot.” He told the sleeping hero in a low voice, tensing as the shadows sluggishly stirred at the sound of his voice. “Ruining everything.”

He’d been trying to take down Onyx for ages. Perfecting the best way to use his ice bolts to freeze those shadows of his once and for all. It had been the best moment of his life seeing the hulking figure finally stagger when his ice had successfully pierced through the darkness and not fly out the other end. To know that they had stuck. To see those dark wisps vanish like so much smoke as the hero plummeted from the sky. To have a crater form from the impact that left a dust cloud floating in the air with no hint whatsoever of his shadows preparing to strike back.

It had been his greatest moment of triumph. The final defeat of his main nemesis.

An icy javelin had already formed in his hands, aimed for Onyx’s heart before Patton’s feet had even hit the ground.

But instead of the square jawed overly muscled hero he’d expected to finally see underneath that murky shadow disguise...he’d found a freaking child laying there, bleeding, broken, and unconscious.

One Virgil Hawkins. Fourteen years old. Orphan. Parents dead since he was nine. Grandmother dead since he was eleven though apparently no one else had realized that little tidbit yet besides Patton because he’d actually tried to find the woman last night after he’d rushed the boy to the hospital for emergency surgery only to discover the little urn with her name on it on the mantle of the fireplace in her home.

It was one thing to kill a Hero. And Patton...well he’d done in his fair share of heroes over the last decade. But killing a child? His heart might be cold. Frozen even. But as much as he itched to end Onyx the hero permanently...ending Virgil the child was an entirely different matter.

Not that anyone would know. Not that anyone would care if Virgil vanished the same evening Onyx died. He could freeze the kid’s heart here and now and not even the staff supposedly watching the boy would think much of it, injured as he was.

Patton frowned, breath misting in front of him as he held out an ice coated hand over the child, an icicle easily forming in his fist.

It would be so easy.

Who would care about the disappearance of a single boy? One who was practically a ghost in his civilian life. Certainly not the news. Certainly not the cops the kid had risked his life to defend. A kid only surviving as it were because he’d been clever enough to keep his grandma’s social security checks coming to the house as a source of income.

No one would notice if he just...vanished. Not even the school the kid attended would. Not when they couldn’t even tell him if he’d shown up yesterday for class.

No concerned teacher. No concerned counselor. No friends to worry about him suddenly vanishing. Not even the staff here in the hospital cared enough to keep more than a cursory eye on their John Doe as the police attempted to track down the boy’s nonexistent family.

Virgil had no one.

Patton let the icicle dissolve back into his skin, his hand lightly resting on the boy’s warm forehead, fingers lightly brushing the stitches there.

No one to pay the hospital bills. No one to look after him once he was released. No one to ensure that he had food, clothes and shelter. No one to stop him from being a fu-freaking idiot and going out to attack a villain old enough to be his Father.

Patton shuddered, pulling his hand back. Crofters forbid that. Teenagers were the worst. Onyx only proved that tenfold with how easily he’d wound up Patton in their fights. To have one living in his own home? With their constant mood swings, inability to do chores, and dependence on social media? Ha. No.

A groan from the bed drew him from his thoughts right as the shadows around the bed surged at him, latching onto his arm and jerking him forward with a startled yelp.

“Cold.” A hoarse voice whispered as pale fingers shakily rose from under the blanket, twisting to catch Patton’s wrist as the shadows pulled him within reach. Onyx’s eyelids fluttered as he placed Patton’s hand on his forehead. “Cold.”

Was he insane?! Patton growled, the temperature in the room dropping another ten degrees as he struggled against Onyx’s shadow grip. “Let. Go!”

The hero had the gall to smirk, dark eyes unfocused as he opened them fully, the shadows pulsing around them. “No way, Icy.” He whispered. “You cold. Feels good. You stay.”

WHAT?! He wasn’t an icepack! “I’ll freeze your burning head off! LET GO, you idiot!” He allowed a thin layer of ice to form under his hand to prove his point. It was bad enough that Onyx could match him throw for throw on a good day, it was worse knowing that a fu--freaking half-drugged teenager could still hold him with minimal effort.

Virgil closed his eyes, stupid smile growing wider. “Rubber. Glue. Back to you.”

Patton blinked. “Huh?” What was that supposed to mean?! This was why he hated teenagers. They didn’t make a lick of sense whenever they spoke.

“You’re the idiot here.” Virgil dropped his hand, the shadows releasing their grip. “Coming in uniform? To a hospital? To see me? For shame.”

Patton scoffed, taking a step back. He wasn’t some first year amateur to walk in the front door dressed like this. “Like I care if anyone sees me, kid.”

If it weren’t for the fact that he couldn’t afford to let anyone see him actually caring about anyone’s welfare, especially some ‘random’ kid found on the street after the big fight with Onyx, he would have blasted the front doors off their hinges and made a grand entrance instead of manipulating the ice of his clothes to resemble simple civilian attire before sauntering inside, no questions asked. After all, no one ever looked twice at some guy walking around in a black shirt and blue jeans, not even in a hospital.

Though. He flexed his fingers. It wasn’t like it was outside his wheelhouse to freeze people to death if they got in his way.

Onyx frowned, the shadows pulsing as he opened his eyes again, making eye contact. “No...you wouldn’t would you….why are you here--No.” The darkness gathered underneath him, carefully carefully pushing the kid upright in the hospital bed. He hissed, uninjured arm moving to wrap around his stomach. “Why am I here and not dead, Icy?”

Patton lifted his chin, glaring at the hero. “Did you want to be dead?” He asked, hefting a javelin of ice in his hand.

The teenager had the gall to roll his eyes, though Patton didn’t miss how the shadows surged around him in a protective shield. “Missed your chance, buddy. Don’t tell me your frozen heart actually thawed a little during our fight.”

“No.” Patton jabbed at the shadows, not at all surprised when they easily shattered his weapon with a quick twist.

So the kid wasn’t as out of it as his dilated eyes made it seem. Good to know.

“So I’m alive then….why?”

Why did it matter? “You’re fourteen.”

Virgil scoffed, slowly moving the arm that was in a cast so it too rested against his stomach. “So? You’ve killed kids before.”

Patton stiffened, ice flashing from his feet to cover the floor like a mini ice rink. Did the boy honestly not care about his own life?! “You shouldn’t have been fighting me in the first place, Onyx! You’re a kid. A Fu-FREAKING KID. Your biggest worry should be passing some stupid Math test! Making friends in school. Not squaring up against the worst villain the city has ever seen!” A villain that always, always killed his nemeses no matter what.

Virgil huffed, spreading his arms, the shadows twisting around them. “Last time I checked, this kid could wipe your ass into the dirt without breaking a sweat. I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much.”

“But you shouldn’t HAVE to.” This wasn’t some stupid dystopian novel. No normal eleven year old should have such a stupidly high Chosen One complex.

“And who’s fault is it that I have to, Icemas?” Virgil’s eyes practically glittered like obsidian shards as the shadows lifted him off the bed, turning him to face Patton properly, the machines squeaking in protest as the various tubes connecting them to the hero shifted out of alignment. “No one else was stepping up. No one else would face you.”

“That’s the point!” Patton hissed, shooting a ray of ice to the door, crystals covering the window there and locking it in place so no one else would be able to investigate the alarms going off, before stepping forward to jab a finger at the boy’s chest, though he was careful to not actually touch the wounds there or send any ice bolts at him. “I’m showing everyone that being a hero is a useless archaic practice! No one should have to risk their life day in and day out for complete strangers who will never appreciate your sacrifice! If you had died tonight, Virgil, who would have cared?! The media? Ha.” He shook his head, gesturing to the blank TV screen in the corner as the shadows pulled back to quiver behind the young hero. “They’d mourn you for maybe a week tops before moving onto the next sensational story, the next stupid hero trying to make a difference. Maybe, maybe they will name some shiny new building after you, to remember you by, but then what? NOTHING. You’d be DEAD before you could ever drive and it would have all been for naught!”

Virgil frowned, shadows lowering him so he was sitting on the bed. “...You know my name?”

Patton stiffened. That’s what the kid was worried about? Him figuring out his civilian identity instead of nearly dying?! That was so messed up. “Someone had to try and track down your family, kid. The idiots here weren’t gonna do it.”

The hero had the gall to grin, though Patton didn’t miss how his fingers clenched the sheets. “Aww, well isn’t that sweet of you, Popsicle. How did that go?” He tilted his head to the iced over door where distant voices could be heard as the handle rattled. “Good old mom and dad waiting outside to see me? To check in on how their ickle Virgikins is doing?”

Teenagers. He hated them. “You know they aren’t. You have no one.”

Something flickered in the boy’s eyes. “Oh! Then let me guess.” He rested his chin on his uninjured hand. “You let the staff know I’m on my own? Do I get the oh so fun opportunity to experience our stellar A+ foster care system now?”

Patton rolled his eyes, shooting another bolt of ice at the door for good measure. “Please. They still think you’re a John Doe.” The lazy bums were waiting for him to wake up first. Hoping that Virgil would tell them who he was before trying to track down his identity or family.

“Excellent.” Virgil gave the door an appraising look. “Think they’ll believe amnesia?”

Patton blinked. “....Do you not feel the stitches holding your head together?” Or the baseball sized lump on the back of his skull from hitting the pavement?

The hero shrugged. “Honestly?” The shadows pulsed around him. “It’s all kinda fuzzy agony currently. Can’t differentiate what parts of me hurt and what doesn’t.”

How was this kid even awake?! Patton stepped forward, pushing the boy back down flat on the bed. “Then REST before you hurt yourself further, idiot.”

“Aw, love you too, Popsicles.”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT.” He would never be a fu-freaking Father to anyone.

“Or what?” Virgil relaxed against the pillows, even as his hand twisted to catch Patton’s wrist again. “You’ll kill me?”

If he wanted to do that the kid would be dead already. Patton jerked free, another ice spear forming in his hand, pointed to the boy’s throat. “No.”

“Aw. You scared to?”

“NO. I’m not killing a KID. Our fights are done with, Virgil. No more Onyx. He’s DEAD.”

The boy scoffed, pushing the spear to the side. “Last I checked, Icy,” The shadows surged over him in a swirling mass until the familiar shadowy form of Onyx stared back from the bed. “We’re the same person.” His voice echoed. “And I’m still alive and kicking.”

Ooooohoooho. Patton could feel his eye twitching as ice crept up the walls and window. If it were just Onyx he’d take great pleasure in killing the hero here and now. He itched to do so. But he couldn’t. Not with knowing that Virgil the child hid underneath the darkness. “I won’t fight you, kid.”

The shadows pulled back, revealing Virgil looking far paler than before, his face glittering with sweat. “Coward.”

“Idiot.” The kid needed to see a shrink. No normal fourteen year old would be this stubborn about wanting to constantly go up against him and face death by his hand!

“I know you are but what am I?”

The window shattered, sending frost covered glass glittering to the floor. “Hopefully grounded by the fool that ends up taking you in.” He got out through gritted teeth, ice particles shimmering in the air, ready to defend as the shadows around Onyx sprung up like a series of blackened tentacles writhing behind him.

He pitied whoever ended up with this troubled teen in their home…though...maybe he could arrange for the kid to be shipped across the country to live far far away from here. Getting out of this place could set him straight. Snap him out of this stupid hero phase he was in.

Virgil threw his head back, laughter ringing throughout the room as banging sounded from the door, the ice blockade cracking under the strain.

Judging by the way the ice was shearing off, someone with heat abilities had finally shown up.

Virgil shook his head, still grinning, though his eyes held no laughter as the shadow tentacles sharpened into jagged points, all aimed at Patton’s chest. “Oh that’s rich. Me, grounded? Like a normy would be able to stop me from coming after you the next time you decide to wreck the city.” He pushed himself up onto one elbow, jabbing his cast at Patton, the shadows quivering behind him like a pack of hunting dogs waiting to be unleashed as the temperature in the room dropped even further. “Face it, Popsicle. If you’re not gonna kill me then you’re stuck with me being your nemesis. If you want me to stop being the hero and keep me alive, then you have to stop being the villain. And we both know you’re not gonna do that. Your precious plan is too important to just give it up for my sake.”

And that was the crux of the matter wasn’t it? Patton snarled, raising his hands, the ice particles in the air morphing into a slew of arrows all directed towards the boy. He didn’t want to kill Virgil. But he couldn’t give up his plan. Give up being the villain. Not after a decade of fighting to get all those idealistic fools to see what a farce being a hero was. He was so close to winning. So close. “Fine.” He surged forward, grabbing the boy by the throat, ice arrows darting about to block the shadow tentacles of the kid’s from interfering. “You value my plan more than your pathetic life? Then you should--”

BANG.

The door behind them shattered, sending a heat wave full of shrapnel blasting into the room.

IDIOTS.

Patton whirled, flinging a wall of ice towards the figures in the doorway in an attempt to block the worst of the heat from outright killing Virgil then and there. IDIOTS! Did they not care at all that an already injured kid was in the ro---

A half melted silver door knob burst through the resulting steam before Patton could react to it, clocking him between the eyes with enough force to knock him backwards, his world vanishing into cold, silent darkness as the hospital floor rushed up to meet him.

[lilover131]

Chapter 56 Analysis+Theories

AHHHHHH CHAPTER 56 AHHHHHH!!! <--Chrissy every time a chapter comes out

I wasn’t as hyped up about this one as I was for the last one thankfully, seeing as we didn’t have a super long wait, but I certainly don’t want to diminish in any way the importance of this chapter!!!

I won’t waste any time and will get right to it, so buckle in, cuz’ the theory train is coming! More under the cut!

 So I’ll start by saying that when I first read the chapter, it was 2 AM where I was. I had been sleeping and just kinda magically woke up right when the chapter just came out, so I like to think there was some fate there. But when I opened that chapter on my phone and the first thing I saw was that Syaoran color spread, I audibly gasped and instantly woke up a bit.

 I woke up not because it was absolutely stunning to look at, or even at the fact that we haven’t had Syaoran in a color page for a while. No, the thing that caught my attention was the serious atmosphere it contained and the tone that it seemingly set. To me, this was one of CLAMP’s subtle ways of saying “Prepare for the final battle”. I could be reading into it too much, but I was right about what I believed the Syaoran and Kaito color page insinuated, so I’m gonna stick to my guns here.

 We start off the chapter without a moment’s pause where we left off last time. It continues right from the last point of the conversation where Sakura dropped the bombshell that she had seen Kaito use magic. She seems to think that they may not believe her at first, but Syaoran interrupts her to affirm that he 100% believes her and that he even already knew. Sakura is naturally confused by this, but he finally FINALLY gets to tell her what he’s been dealing with this whole time, and it definitely seems to be an uncomfortable topic for him. But at least this time he got to tell Sakura truthfully that he hadn’t ever intended on keeping this from her but was physically not able to. Despite not needing to feel guilty about this, Syaoran seems uncomfortable for the simple fact that someone else had that much control over him, and he was unable to do a thing to stop it. It’s also important to keep in mind that Kero and Suppi were hearing this for the first time themselves as well (about the silencing at least).

 Not much time passes after this before Kero and Suppi fess up to also knowing about Kaito, but they admit that theirs was a conscious decision rather than force, but that they believe they too would have been silenced like Syaoran was had they attempted to speak. One could say that since they didn’t know Syaoran was silenced in the way he was that this is not entirely truthful or was just a bad decision, but in reality it still makes perfect sense why they thought to be more careful. They saw Kaito’s magic first hand violently take down Eriol, and if he could shut down a magician of that caliber from halfway across the world, then he could easily do the same or worse to the guardians. And since they also weren’t yet aware of his true intentions with Sakura, it would have been likely seen as dangerous to provoke him and possibly put Sakura in harm’s way. I guess the only thing that doesn’t make much sense to me is why Syaoran and the guardians didn’t collaborate and put together what they knew sooner. Even when Yue went to Syaoran’s apartment, the topic of Kaito or Eriol never came up, and since they both clearly had Sakura’s best interest in mind, I’m not sure specifically why they chose to keep their information to themselves when they both knew they had the same goal. This, I would say, was actually a bad decision on their part, but when it comes down to it, they’re not perfect and everyone makes mistakes (I think Cinzia made the same point here, so I apologize if it seems like I’m copying here! I just also agree when it comes to this).

 I’m actually going to pull in a little thing I learned from my counselor not long ago when I felt guilt over a particular decision I had made long ago, and that is that you can only work based on the emotions and information you have at the time. And because we don’t know the future, it is not possible to always make the right decisions, but there is also no telling if our decisions would have changed things for the better, so it is best not to dwell on them. I believe truly that based on what they knew at the time and through the experiences they had, they were likely only trying to protect each other, but missed that they could have probably helped each other. It’s easy to miss things when you’re on the defensive.

 What I love about Sakura after this is that she forgives them immediately. This is not the first time she’s had things hidden from her for her protection, and naturally it’s upsetting to not feel like you can be trusted to deal with the serious information. When Syaoran told her how he’d been hiding what he knew before, she was upset but more because she thought he suffered as a result. This time around though, they concealed things from her not because they were worried about how she’d handle it, but rather out of fear from what Kaito would do if they tried, so it’s a completely different reason and much easier to forgive. Sakura is able to differentiate this, because she is a very emotionally intelligent girl and a lot more observant than she gets credit for when it comes to reading people. She’s grown a lot and isn’t as ‘dense’ as she was in Elementary School.

 Then we get a precious gift of seeing Syaoran show off how smart he is, working out how Kaito managed to make them forget about said confrontation at the botanical garden. He’s probably thought about it a lot already, considering he mentioned before that he felt like someone made him forget something. But this time, he had additional information that Sakura was able to provide, and this was the final piece of the puzzle he needed. The most important detail that Sakura gave him was the location in particular, the botanical garden. He knew that that was where they intended to go, but that they had yet to go there. This prompted him to check his phone and see how much time might have passed without them realizing, and because he knew what time he had arranged to meet Sakura, 9:30 AM, he was able to observe that it was impossible for them to meet, go to the botanical garden, have this encounter with Kaito, and both get back to their houses in only 16 minutes. This meant it was not just a mere meddling of memories but rather time magic as it was the only explanation for the time discrepancy issue and memory loss. I can’t say how freaking proud I was of Syaoran for working this out. He’s such a smart boy, but I know that Sakura also would have been able to come to the same conclusion had she had more knowledge about the magical world. Sakura is running on pure instinct right now, which is super strong, but Syaoran really helps fill in those gaps where things don’t make sense for her, making them the perfect magical team!  

 The scene changes to Momo, who appears to be keeping tabs on the conversation (though it’s unclear if Kaito is aware while they are under Siege). And this part is perhaps the most worrying of the entire chapter, and I’m not talking about the line where the English translation says “Into the final act of your story”. That line in particular is a gross mistranslation cleared up by @meimi-haneoka​, who graciously gives us translation notes each month in comparison to the Japanese version. The actual line in fact says “Into the final act of THE story”. This changes the entire tone of that page as the first translation implies it is leading to Kaito’s death, whereas the Japanese translation actually more implies that we’re nearing the climax of the story. Momo’s facial expressions also match the wording of the Japanese translation better, as we know she does not seem to want Kaito to die, so she would certainly look more upset here if she were speaking of such a thing. Also, I have to speak up about how pretttyyyy Kaito looks in that panel. The way CLAMP designed that page is just stunning as always.

 HOWEVER

 Back to what I was saying before! The most concerning part of the chapter for me is the page right before that, where Momo says “Once a spell’s been seen for what it is, it all comes crumbling down. Particularly, where time magic is concerned. And that’s to say nothing of your target’s considerable power. Now everything you’d turned back time to undo. Everything you’ve succeeded in freezing…is beginning to move again”. So here comes Chrissy’s big crazy theory and possible overthinking, but bear with me here!

I think…that what they are saying here is that these moments that were frozen in time and turned back were cut off from the timeline and now floating in a separate space. And now these scenes, which were all intense in their own way and incredibly frustrating for us, are about to move forward.

….all of them….

….at the same time….

This concept isn’t exactly new in CLAMP series. It happened with Tsubasa where Syaoran turned back time to go back to a moment where he could take Sakura’s hand and keep her from being cursed, and to keep that moment ready until he could return, it was in its own separate dimension, cut off from the rest of the universe. Eventually, once he got there, time started to move forward again. Turning back time is a taboo in the magical world for a reason, and Kaito has done this over and over and over again. But also, wouldn’t it be so like CLAMP to say “Hey, we know you’ve been frustrated that all these scenes were seemingly amping up to a big confrontation, but then Kaito rewound time over and over, so how about we give those back….ALL AT THE SAME TIMMMMEE?”. Can you even imagine the consequences of such a thing? At least three of the occasions where Kaito turned back time, Akiho went into what I call ‘book-mode’, where she is no longer herself and tries to absorb Sakura along with her magic (and even succeeds on one occasion). Then there is also Syaoran and Kaito’s battle and Syaoran having his outburst about Kaito being a magician right in front of Akiho. It would be absolute utter chaos, and honestly I’d be living for it. Lmao.

If you believe that this line Momo said was simply to state that his time magic won’t work anymore and that things will continue to progress in this timeline, that would make perfect sense as well, so I don’t want to discount that. I’m just throwing out theories here based on what I know about CLAMP and concepts that are not out of the realm of possibility.

The scenes from here on out bounce a little bit back and forth from a continuation of the conversation with Syaoran and the guardians and present time with Akiho at school. I kinda like the way they did the transitions here, and it didn’t really feel awkward at any point but rather pulled up the relevant information when it was needed.

When Akiho comes in to the classroom, Sakura recalls how the topic of Akiho came up in the conversation from the day before. It’s natural for everyone to question at this point what she knows and if she is someone to be concerned about too. Syaoran mentions that he can’t detect any magic from her, which was something he had looked into from the very first day Akiho arrived at Tomoeda Middle (he knew literally nothing about her, but you know how transfer students go in this town. Lmao). Sakura drops another bombshell here by saying that she actually senses something in Akiho, but she is unclear of what that is and why she feels that way. It’s completely likely that she’s strong enough now to sense the suppressed magic spell the association and her clan put on her. I also noticed Syaoran seemed to tense up when Sakura said this, and I’m sure that this new information probably made him feel very uneasy. Sakura’s instincts are never wrong, and if she feels something, that means there is something, but to think that it’s something even Syaoran can’t sense would definitely be concerning.

 It is then that Syaoran decides to approach the idea of addressing Akiho directly about Kaito’s magic to see what she knows. Maybe at this point in time he is thinking “If she possibly has some sort of magic in her, then she might know already about Kaito”, but like Sakura, he has seen Akiho’s behavior as a person and probably believes that she is not doing anything malicious of her own accord. Perhaps he thinks that Akiho might be able to talk some sense into Kaito and put a stop to things. But the way he goes about it doesn’t push Sakura, but rather just offers it as a suggestion as something a bit more direct.

 Before we see Sakura’s response to this, we are back to Akiho in the classroom and she is very cheerful from having gone out with Kaito the day prior, and OMG CAN I JUST GUSH FOR A MOMENT ABOUT HOW FREAKING PRECIOUS SHE IS? She is seriously adorable, and the more I see her smile, the more it makes me want to burn her whole clan down to the ground for being so awful to her. But also, it reminds me how strong she is to have gone through everything she did and still smile and hold no hatred in her heart. I can’t honestly say I would be the same in her shoes, so it’s really admirable. For those My Hero Academia fans out there, remember Eri’s smile? You know the one I’m talking about. That’s how I feel every time Akiho smiles.

Anyways, back to Sakura’s response. She decides, in a very Sakura-like fashion, to avoid the subject with Akiho for now. It is true that they don’t fully understand who Kaito is and what his intentions are, but the one thing she does know is that he is considered precious to Akiho, and that at least says something about his character. Akiho herself also isn’t an idiot and is perceptive to Kaito’s feelings. Even when he’s smiling, she can tell when he’s actually hurting inside, so if he had bad intentions at all, that likely wouldn’t go unseen either, so Sakura decides that she’ll wait for Akiho to come to her first if the discussion between them needs to happen. I think this is a very mature decision on her part but also continues to show how much she considers the people around her and cares for them.

Back in the present, Akiho apologizes for talking so much, and Sakura tells her that she doesn’t mind and will listen to whatever she has to say. More than just trying to show good will as a friend, I think this is also her way of opening up the door to tell her “If you want to talk about more serious things, I’m here to listen as well”. That way, when the time comes, Akiho will feel comfortable having that conversation with her.

The scene moves on to Yukito’s home where all the guardians are having a nice little get together in their true forms. It’s not entirely necessary for all but Yue to do this, but I love it as we haven’t gotten to see much of them in these forms in the series so far, especially Spinel and Ruby Moon. Ruby Moon is surprised that they decided to go along with what Sakura said, which I suppose makes sense considering they’ve been kinda doing their own thing up until now. But it turns out that it was Syaoran who made the final decision, and the others just took his lead.

 I love that Syaoran was so comfortable just trusting Sakura and realizing that this time, they needed to let her make some choices, especially since it concerned her the most. Moreover, I love that Kero, Suppi, and Yue just basically caved when Syaoran agreed. This shows how much they respect the opinion of not just Sakura, but Syaoran too. They could have easily gone off and continued to work secretly without Sakura, but they didn’t do that. It obviously didn’t work well for them before anyways.

 I cracked up when Ruby Moon mentioned how much Syaoran has grown a lot and used to be a ‘pouty brat’ back when they were in Japan the last time (in his defense, Eriol was screwing with him a lot, so he had a lot of good reasons for the bratty attitude. Lmao). But Kero and Yue’s responses are just precious. They both have the same expression initially, but their actual responses seem to differ quite a bit. Kero states that he will always be a brat to him and that he’s only grown ‘a little’. This is classic Kero essentially saying he agrees that he’s grown a lot, but he won’t admit it yet, hence why Spinel calls him childish. Hahahaha.

Yue’s response however makes me absolutely melt. He states he’s not upset about the mention of Syaoran’s growth, but that that he doesn’t think they “should be in such a hurry to grow up”. He sounds just like a freaking dad here who is happy to see his children grow up, but is also wanting to them to slow down and stay children simultaneously. I am absolutely living for it, and I love seeing how soft he gets when it comes to them. -squeals-

Despite how lighthearted this scene is, I’m gonna put out another theory here that might seem like I’m overthinking and perhaps makes this appear a bit darker than possibly intended. My thought was “Why did CLAMP put such focus on this subject right now?”. They could have simply stated that they decided to go along with Sakura and been done with it, but the made a point to talk about the children’s growth as human beings, particularly Syaoran. Now where am I going with this you ask? Perhaps it’s the Tsubasa PTSD speaking, but when CLAMP has dialogue like this, it usually it done quite purposely at times, because it is meant to enhance our emotions when a particular moment comes later on. So when I thought “Now, why would they be talking so much about how Syaoran’s grown emotionally and how much Kero and Yue care about him?”. I think they are trying to emphasize how much people in general care about him. CLAMP showed it again recently with Touya, who threatened Kaito and purposely included Syaoran in his statement, and again when Kaito pointed his staff at Syaoran and Sakura reacted. CLAMP is pointing out right now how much people care about Syaoran, and I think this is once again a signal that something bad is going to happen to Syaoran, and I think it’s going to be soon.

 Now, Cinzia actually recently found my reaction to spoilers of chapter 1 of Clear Card (that’s right, chapter 1 from all the way back in 2016), and from the very beginning, I have been screaming at the top of my lungs that I had the worst feeling that something bad was going to happen to Syaoran. I imagine some of you are probably tiring of hearing it from me. Lmao. So here we are, 55 chapters and numerous bad dreams later, and I finally feel like that time is really really close. I’m calling it right now that it will probably happen within the next 4-5 chapters, and if I’m wrong, I will eat my words, but them even putting Syaoran on the color page all by himself for this chapter gives me more reason to think that “that time” is approaching.

 That is a good transition for me to talk about the last part of this chapter. We are finally getting some progress on this play Naoko has been writing, and the moment she mentioned it was about “Twin Alices”, I thought to myself “this is going to be where the climax happens”. The pieces are coming together for it, and we’ve finally gotten to hear the premise of this play. We all knew Naoko would ask Sakura and Akiho to play the main roles, but it’s unclear what the role she wants for Syaoran will be when she inevitably peer pressures him into it. Lol. But I’m telling you, I really think this play is where shit is going to hit the fan and we’ll finally get some real answers.

I can’t wait to see what happens from here on out, but it’s very clear to me that things are just going to get more and more intense from here on out!!

[luminescencefics]

fade in, fade out - part four

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***

The Catalyst

December 2009

During her fourth and final year at Townbridge, Nora is hardened. She spent her summer reviewing her college applications in between shifts at the beach, picking through each individual essay and making sure her grades were the highest they could be.

Nora was sick of small towns. Newport would always be home, but with growing up comes the all-encompassing need to find a new home somewhere else—which was why Nora was applying for schools in New York City. A place where she can start over without the stinging burn of high school rumors following her every step.

Luckily, Nora still had Lydia and Margot and a few other girls on the swim team, and that was all she really needed at the start of her final year. She didn’t even look at Harry and his friends in the hallways, and whenever they would snicker behind her back or approach her if they were feeling bold, Nora would just spin on her heel and completely ignore them, similar to the way they treated her at the beginning of her first year. And when she would share a classroom with Harry for their AP classes, she would make sure to sit in the back corner of the room where she couldn’t feel his lingering gaze on her frame.

On her eighteenth birthday, Lydia and a few girls took Nora out to dinner at Margot’s family’s restaurant on the water in East Lyme. They paid for her meal and took pictures out on the docks by the ocean and it was the happiest Nora had felt all year at Townbridge.

Nora was riding that high all the way up until Christmas break where she was actually excited to go home and spend the Holidays with her mother. But just like most things in her life, Nora’s high came crashing down when her mother informed her that she couldn’t come home for break, leaving her to spend her ten-day vacation away from school completely alone in the empty halls of Townbridge.

“I’m so sorry, Nora. Mrs. Clemonte is really sick and Warren is already on his way to Aspen with Willy. I can’t just leave her alone! Especially during Christmastime. Please don’t hate me,” her mother grievously said through the speaker of Nora’s brand new LG Rumor cell phone.

“I could never hate you, mom,” Nora replied honestly, curled up in her comforter on her twin bed on the eve before her mother was meant to pick her up from school.

“You’ll be okay though, right? Other students will be staying on campus with you?” Nora could sense her mother’s worry from over one hundred miles away, and before Shannon could hear her daughter sniffling through the phone, Nora took a deep breath and convinced her that she’ll be fine—even if she wasn’t completely sure of it herself.

In all honesty, Nora wasn’t even certain if any students stayed on campus during break, considering her classmates usually booked trips to Aspen or Vail or the fucking Swiss Alps for all she knows. So after confirming with her guidance counselor that the facilities will be open and she’ll be safe to walk around the practically barren campus, Nora’s shocked that the first person she runs into is none other than Harry Styles.

Nora had to blink a few times in the entryway of the dining hall to make sure that the figure hunched over the wooden table sipping a porcelain cup of tea and shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth was actually him. But when she squints and takes into account his discernible curly locks, his signature black trench coat, and his cotton grey soccer sweatshirt with his last name embroidered on the front layered underneath—there’s no denying that it’s him.

She looks around and notices that there are a few other students scattered about, eating their breakfast wearing thick sweatshirts and conversing amongst themselves. Before she can be detected, Nora buries her chin in her thick knitted scarf and walks around the edges of the room towards the kitchen to grab her own helping of eggs and pancakes.

Nora’s gotten quite good at keeping a low profile, so when she finds an empty seat in the corner of the room, completely far away from Harry’s slumped figure, she lets herself breathe for the first time. She unwraps her maroon scarf and unbuttons her navy parka before digging into her breakfast, flipping through her battered copy of The Princess Bride. Every year, Nora rereads her favorite books that were turned into films, and she figured now was as good a time as any to pick up where she left off.

Halfway through her breakfast, Nora realizes a moment too late that she picked the seat that’s closest to the tea and coffee station when she hears her name gruffly fall past Harry’s lips as he stands over her, a completely shocked look on his face.

“Nora?” Harry repeats after a minute has passed with the two of them just staring at each other, wondering what in the hell the other is doing spending their winter break at school all alone.

“Hi,” Nora says awkwardly, avoiding Harry’s gaze and choosing instead to look at the rolled-up paperback sticking out of his jacket pocket. She can’t quite make out the title of the book from her position, but the light blue coloring of the title page is familiar to her for some odd reason.

“What are you…” His words fall from his mouth without any clear purpose. She realizes then and there that the last words she spoke to him were a broken “fuck you” one year ago in Dr. Forrester’s AP Chem lab, and that thought is enough to cause her to stand up abruptly from the wooden bench, grabbing her tray in one hand and her parka in the other, trying her hardest to get out from under Harry’s intense gaze.

“Wait, Nora!” Harry calls after her as she scrambles towards the trash bin to clear her half-eaten plate. She ignores him, the need to get away from him much stronger than her urge to stick around and hear what he has to say to her. And before she knows it, she’s running through the snowy campus with her parka barely buttoned, recognizing a moment too late that she left her maroon scarf on the table in the dining hall in her mad sprint to the exit.

For two days, Nora skips out on breakfast—too terrified to run into Harry again. She eats the rest of her meals by the old fireplace in Millikan Library at odd times in the day, growing far too comfortable with the eerie solitude floating through the towering ceilings.

Most of her afternoons spent in Millikan are quite peaceful, considering the foot traffic is practically nonexistent save for the two librarians working the research desk and the small handful of students searching through the fiction aisle for a new book to read to keep them preoccupied during the break. Her spot near the fireplace is hidden in plain sight, somehow giving her the perfect view of the lower floor of the library while staying comfortably concealed from wandering eyes.

Luck isn’t on her side, though, and while she’s finishing up the last quarter of The Princess Bride, her focus is broken when a familiar maroon scarf drops in the middle of her lap, obstructing Nora’s spot on the page.

When she looks up she sees Harry, dressed in familiar black jeans and a simple white t-shirt underneath his trench coat. Snowflakes dust the tips of his curly hair, and when Nora squints she can make out the purple bags underneath his dull green eyes.

“You left that in the dining hall,” he says slowly, sitting down in the chair across from the matching one Nora is currently curled up in.

“Uh, thanks,” she mutters, scrunching the thick material up and shoving it into her backpack resting on the floor below her. A crinkled Pop-Tart wrapper comes fluttering out of her bag as she attempts to zip it up, and Harry notices it instantly.

“Have you been living off of those instead of eating real food?” he asks. Nora can’t tell if he’s actually concerned or if he’s teasing her, because his eyes are still dull and his face is still blank and she can’t read Harry Styles for the life of her.

When she doesn’t answer, he states simply, “You’re avoiding me.”

“Can you blame me?” Nora responds quickly, looking at him with a layer of sadness hidden underneath her cerulean eyes.

“No, suppose I can’t.” He’s quiet for a few minutes, shifting his gaze towards the carpeted flooring below them. He looks as if he’s thinking very hard, and Nora wonders if he’s trying to figure out how to apologize to her. And when he’s still sitting there, a massive indent in the middle of his eyebrows while his lips pout downward in a frustrated frown, Nora thinks that a person like Harry has probably never had to apologize for anything in his entire life.

That realization is enough to keep her from running away from him again.

Harry lifts his eyes from the floor then, moving his gaze from Nora’s face to the book in her lap. She looks comfortable, wearing thick leggings and a woolen turtleneck, her blonde hair twisted into a low bun behind her neck, allowing her fringe to fall wildly against her forehead. He notices that her snow boots are on the floor, and her socked-clad feet are tucked underneath her thighs on the big chair she’s nestled in. For the first time in a long time—probably ever, if Harry really sits and thinks about it—he feels as if he’s looking at Nora Priestley for the first time, observing every freckle on her pale skin and every line and curve of her face. He’s not quite sure what that means entirely, but he’s sure that it has to mean something, in the grand scheme of things.

If she’s grown uncomfortable under his stare, she doesn’t show it, and Harry’s a bit grateful for that. Without really thinking about it, Harry reaches inside his jacket pocket, revealing his curled up copy of The Call of the Wild.

“D’ya mind if I sit here and read with you?” he asks quietly.

“No,” Nora says, her voice pitch wavering, “Not at all.”

What normally would take Nora less than an hour to read, ends up being much longer, because she had suddenly grown extremely distracted with Harry’s presence across from her. It first started when he took off his black trench coat, revealing a threadbare white t-shirt that didn’t seem appropriate with the falling snow outside and the frigid temperature in the air. But it wasn’t the thin material that captured Nora’s attention. Instead, it was the various etchings of black ink swirling up and down his left arm. She tries not to stare, but she honestly can’t help it, because the images of shaded roses and thick anchors and anatomically correct organs is causing her head to spin. Nora never thought that picture-perfect Harry Styles, with all his splendor and daddy’s money, would brand his skin with outrageous tattoos. But it somehow fits, and Nora finds that she suddenly wants to know what every picture means, and its significance to the boy adorning them.

She tries to bring her attention back to her book, but it’s practically no use, considering her eyes keep falling towards his, watching the way he reads the old book in his large hands. From this position with the big bay windows behind her and the light flooding through, Harry’s green eyes almost seem blue. She’s not sure if he’s aware that he’s doing it, but his fingers keep constantly picking at the dry skin on his lower lip, and if there’s nothing left to pick, his fingers just push and pull at the skin as he flips to the next page. Whenever he seems to read a particularly interesting passage, Harry’s brows furrow as he concentrates on the words bleeding off the page. And just when Nora thinks she’s gotten used to his presence, he would absentmindedly fidget in the seat, changing which leg would be crossed over the other, bringing his foot up to rest on the seat so that his elbow can lean on something new, or even moving his body completely, so that his legs fall over the arm of the chair and his head rests against the other.

And when Nora’s no longer distracted by Harry’s existence, she finds that her thoughts linger on the hundreds of questions floating through her brain. She wonders what he’s doing here, all alone during Christmas break when he spends his summers in the south of France or the Hamptons or some other luxurious location. She wonders why, of all places to read an old copy of The Call of the Wild, he chooses to sit near her, a girl he’s supposed to hate. And she especially wonders why she doesn’t mind his proximity to her body, considering he’s done nothing but hurt her since they first met.

Nora finds this entire afternoon to be distracting, and without even finishing the book (even though she acts like she has, because let’s be honest, Nora’s read The Princess Bride enough times to recite the last page), she closes it and throws it in her backpack, exchanging the paperback for her maroon scarf and beginning to lace-up her snow boots. Harry looks up from his book and notices her getting ready to leave, and without saying anything, Nora watches as he dog-ears his page and begins to pull his arms through the sleeves of his coat.

“I’m gonna head to the dining hall,” Nora explains, even though she’s not entirely sure she wants Harry to follow her. But when he stands up from the chair and slips his book into his pocket, Nora finds that she doesn’t really have a choice in the matter, other than to follow him down the stairs and out the front door into the snow.

Townbridge covered in a thick blanket of snow is quite a sight to behold, and momentarily, Nora can forget that Harry Styles is standing near her. Because the snow is falling lightly from the sky, dusting the tips of her nose and the apples of her cheeks, and she thinks it’s probably the calmest she’s felt in a very long time.

But then Harry’s elbow knocks against hers as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets, and suddenly all of the distracting thoughts and the endless questions from before come rushing from her brain to the tip of her tongue, and Nora finds that she can’t hold it in anymore.

“Why are you talking to me, Harry? Aren’t you supposed to hate me?” Nora’s words aren’t spiteful in the slightest. In fact, there’s barely any emotion behind them—just a statement that’s been at the forefront of her mind ever since he first approached her in the dining hall two days ago.

“I don’t hate you, Nora,” Harry chooses to say, looking down at her briefly as they continue the short walk to their destination.

“You certainly don’t like me,” Nora replies back, keeping her head down to avoid more snowflakes accumulating on her eyelashes.

“If this is about last year, I really am sorry. You were right to say those things to me in Dr. Forrester’s lab, I deserved it. All of it.” Nora waits a minute to speak, because she’s curious if Harry Styles will grovel in front of her, if he’ll beg for her forgiveness the way she’s dreamt about him doing for the past twelve months. He stays quiet, kicking his boot through a particularly thick segment of snow, and when Nora chances a look towards his face, she can see through his eyes that this conversation is torturing him. The dullness is tenfold, and his lips are in a very straight line and she’s never seen a jaw so clenched in her entire life. And even though he doesn’t say anything else, Nora accepts his apology, because although words have failed him (as they usually have in the past), his eyes give everything away.

The word pushover comes to mind, but Nora doesn’t think it’s a negative aspect of her personality. She was always taught to find the best in people, and if Harry’s apology consists of a handful of words and green eyes twisted in utter agony, she’ll take what she can get.

He holds the door open for her as they approach the dining hall and she gives him a quiet “thank you,” and Harry’s not sure if it’s for his chivalrous act or his bare-bones apology, but he takes it in stride. They grab chicken noodle soup and turkey sandwiches and steaming cups of tea and sit at the table near the large row of windows and for the first time, Nora doesn’t mind sitting across from him.

“So, why The Princess Bride?” Harry asks after a mouthful of soup, watching the way her mouth quirks at the mention of her favorite book.

“It’s one of my favorite movie adaptations. Movies are kind of my thing, I guess,” she explains, holding her warm cup of tea against her hands and she looks so damn cozy.

Harry nods, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“What about you?” Nora counters, watching the way his head tilts in confusion.

“What about me?” He echoes.

“Why The Call of the Wild?”

Harry grins, taking a long sip of his tea before replying, “I like classic literature. Guess it’s kind of my thing.”

Before Nora can say anything else, or tease him about copying her phrase, Miss Flaherty approaches their table with a bright grin. She’s one of the guidance counselors at Townbridge, an older woman who reminds everybody of their Nana. So when she places a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezes, Nora’s curiosity is piqued to the fullest.

“Harry! There you are, lovie. Will you be joining us tomorrow for the Toy Drive again? I’m sure everybody will be happy to see you.”

Sheepish has never been a word that Nora would think to associate with Harry Styles, but when his cheeks begin to flush and his eyes look anywhere but at Nora’s, she can tell that he’s nervous. And when she thinks back to Miss Flaherty’s question, more importantly, the word again, Nora’s wondering who on earth the boy sitting across from her truly is.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he tells her, smiling awkwardly.

“Amazing! How about you, Nora? Will you be joining us as well?” Nora’s suddenly aware of two sets of eyes on her, and when she glances at Harry and sees that his face is void of irritation, she nods her head and looks back towards Miss Flaherty.

“Of course! Count me in.”

Miss Flaherty smiles brightly and looks between the two of them happily. “Lovely! I’m sure Harry here will tell you all about it. We’ll see you tomorrow!”

After she walks away it’s quiet again, just the two of them slurping from their bowls of soups, trying to figure out how to address what just happened. Surprisingly, it’s Harry who speaks first.

“Uh, you don’t have to come if you don’t, er, want to.” He’s anxious and Nora wishes he would stop looking at the wooden table and would look at her, instead. Because she’s never given him a reason to be nervous around her, and the fact that he’s suddenly grown so small in front of her is all too confusing for her to understand.

“I don’t mind, really. Sounds cool, actually,” Nora admits, meaning every word.

Harry looks up at her then, observing her to see if there’s any teasing on her face. But when she looks back at him with nothing but a warm expression, Harry can tell that Nora actually means it, and he gives her a gentle smile in return.

Once they finish their lunch, they begin to walk back to their dorms. Nora lives on a different floor of Granary Hall and Harry lives in Quinby House, which is just across the small quarry outside of her building. It’s a comfortable silence, and Nora really wasn’t expecting him to walk her to the front door of her building. She’s not at all mad that he does, though, and when she turns towards him to say goodbye, he looks as if he’s trying to say something to her.

“I can drive you tomorrow to the Youth Center if you want. Easier than taking the bus,” Harry says, pushing his hands against the bottom of his pockets as he shuffles on the pavement in front of her, avoiding eye contact.

Nora nods, smiling softly before saying, “Sure, sounds good. Thanks, Harry.”

Before she can even mutter a goodbye, Harry’s already spinning on his boots towards Quinby House, and Nora’s left watching his figure disappear through the snow, thinking that out of the four years she’s known him, this is the most words they’ve ever spoken to one another.

Nora’s not even sure if she’s aware of it, but when she wakes up the next morning and chooses her nicest pair of jeans and applies a generous amount of mascara to her eyelashes, the idea of impressing Harry is barely even a thought in her mind. But there’s a reason for everything—and the fact that she brushed through her knotted hair and stuck her cherry-flavored lip balm into her pocket before rushing out the door, means that subconsciously she’s thinking about him.

They meet in the parking lot near his black Range Rover, and when he offers her a small smile and opens the door for her, she’s not quite sure what to think. He’s wearing his trench coat again with a grey thermal top underneath, and his curls are stuffed under a bright blue knitted beanie and he looks unbelievably warm. They don’t really talk much but they do listen to Big Star, and when “Thirteen” comes on and Nora starts to sing the words to herself, Harry snaps his head over in her direction with a wide-eyed look of astonishment.

“You listen to Big Star?” he asks, flitting his gaze between the road and Nora’s face.

She smiles, content that she’s shocked Harry, before adding, “Yeah, they’re one of my mom’s favorites.”

He nods, an impressed look on his face. “She’s got great taste.”

The rest of the ride is filled with more of Harry’s musical repertoire to which Nora sings along to the songs she knows. And if she listens close enough, she can hear the low tone of Harry’s singing voice, and she almost finds herself leaning closer towards him so that she can listen more clearly.

When they reach the Youth Center, Harry pops open his trunk and reveals two boxes filled with toys. Nora helps him and grabs the other, peeking inside and seeing wrapped presents of various sizes. They enter the room and greet Miss Flaherty, who immediately delegates Harry and his strong arms to deliver all of the presents underneath the tree, and Nora is sent to pass out homemade cookies and milk and read to the younger children.

It’s a blur of activity, and in between reading A Christmas Carol and making sure the younger children don’t choke on their cookies, Nora almost forgets to watch Harry. She mainly notices him in passing—a quick glimpse of a grey long-sleeved arm passing out presents, an electric blue beanie bouncing up and down in her periphery, a peek of brown suede boots running around behind her. It’s only once Nora’s begun reading the fourth stave, in which the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come visits Scrooge, when she notices denim-clad long legs sitting cross-legged in front of her, with a five-year-old blonde girl perched on his lap.

Harry sits there and listens to Nora finish reading the book, watching the way she acts out each character so that the kids in front of her are completely entranced. Her hair looks shinier today than when they were nestled in the library, and her blue eyes glisten whenever she hears a small child “ooh” and “aah” at the sentence she just read. And whenever her gaze falls on Harry’s, he can’t help but mirror the grin on her face.

When it ends, the little girl in his lap whispers into his ear, “Can we give Nora a cookie? She did a good job reading,” and Harry begins nodding excitedly.

“I think that’s a great idea, love. Up you go, let’s go pick out the prettiest sugar cookie on the table, yeah?” When she latches her small hand into his, Nora can’t help but watch in adoration as he lifts her up and brings her to eye level with the cookie tray, pointing at certain ones and waiting for her little nod of approval.

And when the pair approach her, the little girl holding up a paper plate with a snowman sugar cookie on it, Nora’s smile couldn’t be wider. “Is this for me?” Nora asks, bending at her knees so that she’s eye-to-eye with the small girl.

She nods, bashfully. “To say thank you. Harry said you should get the prettiest cookie.”

When Nora grabs the cookie, she looks up at Harry to find that he’s already looking down at her, shrugging his shoulders as if it were nothing. But to Nora, it was practically everything, and she spends the rest of the afternoon in a blissful state, a smile permanently gracing her features.

When they get back to campus with both their stomachs filled with cookies and eggnog and Christmas breads, the sun is just starting to set past the horizon. Harry pulls into his parking spot but waits a moment to shut off the ignition, noticing how Nora’s gaze is focused on the sky as it turns from a cornflower blue to a prepossessing tangerine hue. The snow reflects the sunset perfectly, and even though it’s one of the prettiest winter sunsets Harry’s seen in a long time, he can’t stop looking at the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

She finally turns to him just as the sky changes from violet to indigo, “I had fun today.”

Harry nods, agreeing instantly. “Yeah, it was a good day.”

“Do you do that often? Is that why you stay here during Christmas break?” Nora’s not quite sure if she’s overstepping, but when Harry’s jaw doesn’t clench and his eyes stay rooted on her own, she can tell that he’s not as nervous to tell her things anymore.

“I’ve been doing it the past two years. My dad’s been going on work trips during the Holidays, so I just stay here.” It’s a version of the truth that he feels most comfortable sharing, and he’s grateful that Nora doesn’t push him.

“I’m assuming your friends don’t know,” Nora offers quietly, watching as Harry chuckles to himself, the sound being anything but funny.

“Yeah, they think I’m in the Alps.” He looks sad all of a sudden, and Nora wishes she hadn’t said anything. Because the fact that Harry’s father chooses to work during Christmas, thus leaving him no choice but to stay at Townbridge by himself, is a shitty thing to do. But instead of moping, he chooses to donate presents to children so they can have some sort of a normal Christmas, even though he doesn’t get the same in return. That’s quite admirable.

If it were Nora, she would be bragging to her friends about the Toy Drive, begging them to join her and spread more awareness. But Harry—Harry can’t do that. Because his friends would never understand, and that realization strikes Nora hard in her chest.

Giving him one last glance, she asks him, “Have you ever seen The Princess Bride?”

He looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed and his nose scrunched up in confusion. The sudden change in conversation is a bit jolting, and when he tries to figure out her intention, she giggles uncomfortably before rambling. “I nicked the DVD player from our common room and set it up in my dorm. Nobody really noticed, so I’ve been watching movies on it all semester.” He’s still looking at her, but instead of confusion written across his face, his lips begin to form a smirk and Nora begins to squirm in her seat, much like the first time they met three years ago in the Great Hall. “So, uh, have you seen it?”

He shakes his head once, twice, the smirk growing into a smile.

“Would you like to?” Nora’s not quite sure why she’s nervous, or more importantly, why she’s even inviting him up to her room in the first place. Maybe she pities him in the slightest, or maybe, just maybe, she’s found that she actually enjoys his presence for once in her life.

“Sure,” he replies easily. Nora watches as he turns the key in his ignition to shut the car off, before hopping out and waiting for her by the trunk. They walk inside Granary Hall together, ride the elevator up to the eighth floor in silence, before entering the fourth door on the right.

The room is moderate, practically identical to the one he had last year with Will, but for some reason, it just screams Nora Priestley. He can already tell which side of the room is hers due to the mix-matched comforter set, the thick homemade quilt, the generous stack of books leaning precariously against the wooden desk, and the collection of polaroids stuck to the wall above her bed nestled in the corner. While she takes off her parka and snow boots, Harry leans towards the photographs, smiling to himself when he sees the happiness radiating off of each one.

His eyes seem glued to the images of Nora and who he assumes to be her mother, with their arms wrapped around each other and their long hair tangling in the ocean breeze. They seem to have done everything together—various images of the two of them on beaches and hiking trails and in the front seat of an old car. Harry’s never seen pure happiness before, and he wishes he could burn these images underneath his eyelids so that he never forgets what that feeling looks like.

“That’s my mom,” Nora says from behind him, almost startling him. He turns around with flushed cheeks, an apology at the tip of his tongue for so obviously intruding. But when he sees her face and notices that she’s not angry at all, he feels his shoulders relax.

“You guys seem to do everything together,” he says softly, choosing his words carefully as to not overstep. The topic of family has always been a difficult one for him in the past.

But for Nora Priestley, she seems to have no qualms about the topic, with the way she’s nodding easily with a nostalgic grin on her face. “Yeah, it’s always been that way. Just the two of us.”

Harry doesn’t say much else, but the look on his face says it all. Some mixture of sadness and jealousy, because even though Nora only has one parent, it’s more than the two he’s known his entire life.

Nora fills her arms with the pillows from her mattress and creates a makeshift pallet on the floor against the end of her bed. Harry takes the seat closest to the door and watches amusedly as she begins to microwave popcorn, opening the door with ten seconds to spare so that she can mix in a package of M&M’s.

When she joins him moments later, she flicks the light off and hits play on the remote. Just as the opening credits begin, she plops down next to him and holds the bowl out in his direction.

“What’s this?” Harry asks, completely serious. He’s looking at the bowl with fascination, wondering what sort of salty-sugary concoction Nora just created.

“It’s the ultimate cinema snack,” Nora explains, grabbing a handful of chocolatey kernels and dropping them into her mouth, munching quietly as Harry looks at her with a glimmer in his eye.

When he pauses for a second time, looking between the movie and the bowl in Nora’s outstretched hands, a sudden realization falls over her.

“Have you never done this before? Gone to the cinema and eaten enough sugary sweets to give yourself a guaranteed stomachache?” The opening scene has already begun but Nora’s too focused on the boy next to her who shakes his head solemnly and looks into the bowl, avoiding Nora’s gaze. She wonders what else the boy she thought had everything in the world has seemingly missed out on.

She turns back around to face the screen, unknowingly scooting closer towards Harry so that their sides are nearly centimeters apart. He can feel the heat of her body against his own, and just when he’s about to say something, Nora announces, “Well, Harry Styles, there’s a first time for everything. Eat up.”

And he does just that.  

The next morning at breakfast at their usual table, Harry finds that he’s nervous. And not in the way that makes him angry and quiet and want to run away, but the kind that usually is caused by a girl. His stomach feels fluttery and his palms are sweating and he’s consistently overthinking, and he’s not even sure why—because he’s Harry Styles, for fuck’s sake. And the girl in question is none other than Nora Priestley.

But she’s wearing a beanie with a bobble on top and her cheeks are pink from the cold and there’s still snow clinging to the ends of her hair and he can’t help but feel out of his element. And he shouldn’t, truly, because he’s been with enough girls to know that these feelings don’t exist and that he’s probably fallen ill or something, most likely caused by the cookies they ate all afternoon and the popcorn-M&M monstrosity he inhaled during their movie.

They haven’t really said much, and Harry finds that he doesn’t mind, because he’s not really used to comfortable silences. Alyssa talks enough for the both of them and Grace and Erin are practically human echoes. Carter always has something new to say and Will answers him because he knows Harry won’t, so the fact that he can sit in the dining hall with somebody and read from each other’s books and talk about things that actually matter—it’s refreshing.

“These buildings are quite eerie when they’re completely empty, don’t you think?” Nora asks after they’ve disposed of their dirty plates.

“I think it’s kind of cool. Have you not been anywhere else besides here and the library?” Harry asks, grabbing his scarf and knotting it around his neck.

When Nora shakes her head, Harry’s hand reaches out to grab her own and he’s dragging her through the exit before she can even button up her parka.

“Harry!” Nora squeals, nearly tripping over her own two feet when she tries to keep up with his obnoxiously long strides. His hand still has hers in a vice-like grip and he doesn’t seem to be letting go any time soon, and it’s only once they’ve appeared in front of the English building when Nora digs her heels into the ground, causing Harry to turn around abruptly.

“What?” he asks, noticing the way her head shakes aggressively and her eyes are blown out as if she were completely and utterly afraid.

“No way. We’re not going in there, are you crazy?! It’s the most haunted building on campus, and it’s empty. No fucking way, Harry,” Nora says, standing her ground.

But with one roll of his eyes and some gentle prodding falling from his lips, Nora finds that she’s somehow ended up inside the stairwell of the empty building, laying next to Harry on the marble staircase. It’s silent, save for the sounds of their hearts beating in their chests and their even breaths falling from their parted lips. The window over the second-floor landing paints a pretty light through the surface, and Nora finds that she’s oddly comfortable in this haunted building she’s so terrified of.

She wonders if it’s because of the boy lying next to her.

“Where are you off to next year?” Harry asks suddenly, his head tipped towards the ceiling four stories up.

“Columbia, hopefully,” Nora says, focusing on the rays of light creating illusions along the stone walls.

“New York City?” Harry asks, sounding quite impressed.

“Yeah. How about you?” she asks, twisting her fingers absentmindedly in her lap.

Harry’s quiet for a moment and when Nora looks over, noticing the way his eyes close slowly and his jaw clenches harshly, she wonders if he’s okay. “Oxford,” he finally spits out, his eyes blinking towards the ceiling once more. “As expected.”

Nora thinks of how to respond, but before she can string together a cohesive thought, Harry suddenly turns his neck so that he’s facing her. “I hate expectations. I wish they didn’t fucking exist, if I’m being honest. How are you supposed to grow if you’re forced to do certain things that are already mapped out for you?”

Nora looks back at him, unexpectedly understanding a good chunk of who Harry is. How even though he’s Townbridge’s Golden Boy, the perfect boy who seemingly can get whatever he wants, he’s missing one thing. Happiness. Pure, unadulterated happiness.

“What do you want to do when you get to Columbia? Like if you had the choice, and nobody was making it for you, and you didn’t have to worry about anything else—what would make you happy?” Harry asks, a shocking hint of vulnerability laced in between his words.

When Nora stops and thinks about it, the answer is literally right in front of her face. It’s what she’s always wanted to do, what she wishes she could do—but knows deep down that she can’t do. Because it’s not stable and it’s not why Nora went to Townbridge in the first place.

“Scriptwriting. I’d want to write screenplays and work on sets and help construct films that people like me can watch over and over again and never get tired of,” Nora whispers, thinking that if she says it quietly in the stairwell with just Harry around, she can still keep it locked up buried deep inside, away from people who would ridicule her over it.

“What would you do?” Nora asks before Harry can comment on her dream. She’s still not sure she’s ready for that.

His answer comes easier than hers. “I’d want to teach. English lit, preferably.”

Vulnerability is a scary thing. It’s even scarier when it’s shared between two people who, up until five days ago, were practically strangers. As they watch each other, heartbreakingly realizing that these dreams of theirs are just something they’re supposed to chase—a sudden sadness washes over them on the stairwell.

“I can’t do that, though,” Harry says, turning towards the ceiling just as his voice breaks. “Because it’s not in the plan.”

“What is the plan?” Nora asks curiously, eyes still locked on Harry’s side profile, watching the way his jaw moves as he speaks.

“Business Administration at Oxford. An internship at my dad’s company during my second year, and then a full-time job there once I graduate. Board of directors by twenty-five, until I fully take over by thirty. That’s it. That’s my life.” Harry’s voice has never sounded so broken before, and Nora feels her heart splinter a little for the boy lying beside her. Because right now, he’s eighteen, and he’s not supposed to be feeling this inordinate amount of pressure. But he is, and that thought makes Nora incredibly sad.

“And you?” Harry asks suddenly, looking towards her again.

“What about me?” Nora asks cautiously.

“What’s stopping you from becoming a scriptwriter?”

It’s a simple question if Nora really thinks about it. But things aren’t always that easy, and explaining to Harry how his anguish is not too far off from her own is quite a terrifying thought. Because they come from two separate worlds, and finding common ground in the fact that the things they truly yearn for are just not tangible is a sobering experience.

“My mom has higher expectations for me. I mean, I’m The Scholarship Girl. I’m not even supposed to be here. But my mom pushed for me and Mrs. Clemonte supported my application and before I even had a say in it, Townbridge was my plan,” Nora starts, feeling Harry’s eyes on her as she looks anywhere else but in the green of his. “My mom had me young, so she never got to go to college. She’s always telling me to do the things she couldn’t do, make better decisions than she made, be the best version of me I can be. And I do try, constantly. Because she works endlessly and she does everything she can to make sure I don’t end up like her, and that’s a lot of pressure for one person to take, because how can I repay her by studying performance arts and joining an industry that’s already extremely difficult to get into?” Nora’s eyes fall from the ceiling towards Harry, and there’s an unreadable expression on his face. “I can’t do that to her. It would break her heart.”

Harry nods like he understands, and for a brief moment, Nora thinks that he truly does. Because even though their situations are different and they come from two completely separate walks of life, they both have fallen victim to an excruciating amount of pressure.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, sounding more sincere than he ever has in his entire life.

Nora just shrugs, turning her face back towards the ceiling. “Not your fault.”

“I’m sorry for a lot of things, I guess,” Harry whispers, and Nora almost misses it over the sound of her own breathing. But when she feels his eyes warm her left cheek, she looks back at him and sees that he’s suddenly overridden with guilt.

“It’s okay, Harry—”

“—No, no. It’s really not.” He’s staring at her intently, and Nora’s suddenly found that she can’t look anywhere else. “What Carter did was wrong, and I didn’t do anything about it. And you lost all of your friends and he just went on the same as he always did, and the whole thing is just so fucked up.”

“I didn’t lose everybody,” Nora adds sheepishly, wishing this conversation would end. She doesn’t want to relive last year, she wants to forget its existence entirely.

“Still, it was wrong,” he frustratedly repeats. “You shouldn’t have just one friend at school.”

“It’s okay, though,” she says one last time, her voice urging him to understand her so that they can ultimately end this dreaded conversation. “I’d rather have one true friend than a bunch of fairweather ones.”

Harry nods and turns back towards the ceiling, and she knows that he isn’t going to say anything. Because this conversation is over, and what Nora said is unquestionably true. But he doesn’t want to face the harsh reality of his empty friendships, so instead, he stares at the ceiling, wondering how his life would have turned out if he fell into a different group instead of the one he has now.

Once Nora’s back starts to ache against the stone stairwell, she sits up and peers through the window on the second-story landing. The snow is falling down a bit harder now, coating the campus below in a thick, billowing white blanket. She thinks it’s beautiful. She thinks it’s far too inviting. So without thinking (something she’s been doing a lot of this week), she reaches for Harry’s hand and heaves him up, dragging him out of the English building and into the empty quad.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, confusion and amusement weaving together beautifully in his voice. Without answering, Nora reaches down and makes a snowball through her fingerless gloves, before hurling it straight towards Harry’s chest.

He looks at her with his jaw practically on the floor, faking his anger even though Nora can see right through it. She’s giggling loudly, almost hunched over at the shocked expression on his face. And before she can even comprehend it, Harry makes a snowball faster than her own and hits her right in the shoulder.

“Hey!” she calls back, wiping the leftover snow off her parka. Harry’s mischievous grin is clear as day through the thick snowfall, and when she mirrors it back, they’ve suddenly found themselves in a snow war.

Their laughter echoes through the quad and bounces off the stone buildings, and once Nora’s beanie is submerged in the snow and their jeans are soaked through and the only sound they can hear is their teeth chattering together, Harry calls a truce and drags her towards the direction of Quinby House. It’s closer than Granary Hall by at least five minutes, and when he holds the front door open for her, Nora enters without really thinking of the repercussions.

“Our floor’s empty and we have a private bathroom, so, er, if you want to shower first you’re more than welcome to. I’ve got warm clothes you can change into,” Harry offers quietly, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck. Nora can’t tell if the blush coating his cheeks is from the snow clinging to his body or something else entirely, but she doesn’t push it. Instead, she nods, following him to the last door on the left of the third floor, removing her snow boots in the hallway outside and beginning to walk towards the adjoining bathroom.

Nora closes the door without turning the lock, and immediately turns the shower on to its highest setting as she removes each soggy layer of clothing. She steps in just as the steam is clouding the small room, and when she notices the citrus body wash in the corner, she grabs that one instead of the Irish Spring bottle, knowing that it’s Harry’s.

Just as Harry’s pulled out a tight pair of joggers and his freshly washed soccer sweatshirt, he hears the distinct sound of the door creaking open. When he looks over his shoulder and finds that Nora isn’t peeking her head out from behind, he immediately gulps, knowing that the old door and the hot room caused the hinges to loosen.

As he approaches the door to close it securely, he can’t help but look up and notice Nora’s bare back through the mirror. Luckily he doesn’t see anything else, but still, he finds himself not being able to look away. Her milky skin is slightly red from the hot streams of the shower hitting her back and her blonde hair is sudsy and a part of him hopes that she picked his shampoo instead of Will’s. And when she moves her hair from the nape of her neck, Harry notices four black letters tattooed into her skin, and suddenly he closes the door before he can make out the blackletter script.

He sits on his bed across the room, his elbows resting on his thighs with his head in his hands as he tries his hardest to regulate his breathing. It’s a fucking back for Christ’s sake! Harry’s seen far more amongst other girls, and the fact that her hidden tattoo is causing his heart to beat erratically is giving him a migraine. Because it’s Nora fucking Priestley behind that door, and he’s Harry fucking Styles. And he needs to remember that before he embarrasses himself any further.

But when the door finally opens fully and she’s standing there in a tiny towel barely covering her legs and her wet hair framing her blushing face, Harry knows he’s fucked. Because it’s Nora fucking Priestley. And she’s standing there naked underneath terry-cloth and he doesn’t try to ignore the fact that his thumping heart and his staggered breathing are all because of her.

“So those, uh, clothes you were talking about…” Nora says awkwardly, staring at the carpeted flooring of his room instead of his face. Because she’s very clearly naked and very clearly uncomfortable, and when Harry points towards Will’s bed where the articles in question are resting, she barely mutters a thank you before the wooden door is shut again and she can finally breathe properly.

When they exchange places, Nora’s grateful that Harry has the decency to bring his change of clothing into the bathroom with him, because if she had to stare at his wet torso, she’s not quite sure she could bear it.

She snoops through his dorm room once she hears the water running, and finds that his side is practically barren. There are no pictures of his family, no personalized anecdotes to distinguish Harry’s side of the room from Willy’s, nothing except a collection of books in the open section underneath his nightstand. She reads through the titles, realizing that Harry does, in fact, have a thing for classic literature.

Just as she’s moved on to Willy’s desk, observing the stoic photograph of him and his parents that must have been taken recently, Harry emerges from the bathroom in comfy sweats and wet curly hair, and Nora looks away before she’s caught admiring his figure.

“What are you looking at?” Harry asks, dropping his wet clothes into his hamper before turning towards Nora’s position against Will’s desk.

When she holds up the frame, Harry looks between the picture and Nora’s face. As Harry studies her expression, noting the way her eyes are clouded with familiarity and a hint of sadness that lingers underneath, he can tell that she knows this family quite well.

So he asks, “You know Will, don’t you?”

“Knew would be the appropriate term,” Nora says quietly, placing the frame back where she found it before leaning her backside on his desk so that she can face Harry properly. “My mom was his nanny.”

Before Harry can comment, Nora quickly adds, “But please don’t tell him that. I don’t want him to think I’ve ruined his reputation or anything.”

“Why?” Harry asks, stepping towards her slowly. When she looks up at him with confusion, he continues, “Why would you let him lie to everybody?”

Nora just shrugs. “He obviously didn’t want anybody to know. But I know the truth, and Willy knows the truth, and he’s the one who has to live with that, not me.”

Harry looks at her from the middle of his room, thinking it’s quite remarkable that her brain works like that. Because Will had embarrassed her clear as day in front of all of his friends, and not only that, he lied, too. Harry thinks that if he hadn’t said those words, and if Alyssa and her friends hadn’t reacted that way, and if he just had a moment to talk to Nora before they had interrupted—maybe things would be completely different.

But Harry doesn’t like to think about what if’s. So instead, he grabs his laptop from his desk and powers it on, laying down on his twin bed in the spot closest to the wall, pulling up his movie library and patting the empty spot on his mattress.

When Nora lays down next to him, her back propped up on his headboard as her left side is flushed with Harry’s right, she asks, “Are we watching your favorite this time?”

Harry grins, shaking his head. “No, I’d rather watch another one of yours.”

Blushing, Nora grabs the computer from his lap and types in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, a classic that she’s sure Harry will enjoy. And when she hands his computer back to him, she tries to ignore the fact that Harry was watching her face instead of the screen.

“Have you seen this?” Nora asks, trying to break Harry out of whatever weird trance he fell into.

“Nope,” Harry admits, balancing his computer in the middle of their thighs so that they can both view the screen properly. Nora tries to ignore the fact that she had to move closer towards him to fill in the gap, but the redness flushing up and down her neck practically gives her away. “Why is it one of your favorites?”

His question is simple in hindsight, but it makes her heart bubble when she realizes that he’s actually interested in the little things about her that seem meaningless. “Well, it’s a classic, and I know that’s sort of your thing,” she says, smiling when she pulls a chuckle from his mouth. “And it’s one of my favorite examples of breaking the fourth wall in a screenplay.”

“What on earth is that?” Harry asks, clicking play once the movie has finished loading.

“It’s sort of like metafiction in literature. Basically, it’s a plot device that scriptwriter’s use when the main character speaks to the audience. Ferris does it, like, all the time.” When Nora realizes that she sounds extremely nerdy divulging scriptwriting plot devices and intricacies about film that nobody really cares about, she shuts her mouth, turning crimson.

Harry doesn’t say anything though, and she’s grateful for it. Because even if he thinks it’s weird and nerdy (which he doesn’t, of course, but he’d never tell her that), he turns his head towards the screen and tries to hide the smile on his face.

And when the opening monologue begins and Ferris is in the shower talking to the camera, Harry whispers into Nora’s ear and asks, “Is that it?” She tries to cover the shiver running through her skin at the feeling of Harry’s lips brushing against her earlobe, but Harry notices it, like he notices everything about her lately. So for good measure, when Ferris breaks the fourth wall again at Cameron’s house, Harry leans over and mumbles, “And this, yeah? This is it, too?”

Nora knows he’s teasing, so when she turns her face in his direction so that Harry can see her rolling her eyes in good humor, he tries to ignore the warmth on his shoulder from where her chin rests.

Around halfway through the movie, Nora finds that she’s suddenly grown tired. She sneaks a peek at Harry and notices that he’s captivated by the movie on the small screen, and she really doesn’t want to interrupt him. After her third stifled yawn, Nora can feel her eyes drooping, and without really thinking, her head falls against the fleshy part of Harry’s bicep. Harry doesn’t say anything, but he does flinch for the shortest of seconds, before looking at her and realizing that she looks far too content dozing off on his arm. So he keeps quiet, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest.

The next morning, Nora wakes up and finds that she’s not in her room. She also finds that her left cheek is smushed against comfy cotton material that keeps rising and falling steadily. And when she finally comes to, she finds that the comfy cotton material belongs to Harry, and the rising and falling belongs to his chest, and when she notices her right arm wrapped securely around his lower stomach just above the waistband of his joggers where a sliver of warm, tattooed skin lies, she freezes. Before Harry can wake up and go through the same motions she just did, Nora springs up, a stupid decision that results in Harry stirring abruptly.

He seems to have realized the compromising position they were just in, and before Nora can run out of the room in a panic, he mutters, “I’m sorry,” in his incredibly scratchy morning voice and Nora finds that it really doesn’t help matters.

Because Harry Styles in the morning is something special. He looks good in every lighting, if Nora is being brutally honest, but there’s something about his puffy face and swollen lips and crackling voice that makes her appreciate him a little bit more than she probably should in the early hours of the day.

“It’s, uh, my fault. I was the one who fell asleep,” Nora offers lamely, raking her fingers through her matted hair to try and alleviate the awkwardness in the room.

And when Harry mutters, “I didn’t mind” at the same time Nora says, “I should probably go,” they both freeze and look at each other timidly. Harry’s wondering why he doesn’t want her to leave and Nora’s wondering why she wants to wrap her body around his again, and it’s all too much for nine in the morning.

But he’s still looking at her, and she’s still looking at him, and somehow they’ve both landed on solid ground for the first time. Harry’s finding out that he quite likes the look of her burrowed in his soccer sweatshirt and Nora’s discovering that she’s never slept better than when she was lying next to him, and when he asks her if she wants him to save their usual table at the dining hall for breakfast, Nora nods, thinking it’s the greatest idea in the world.

An hour later, after Nora’s gone back to her room to change (begrudgingly) into her own clothes and freshen up, it’s almost second nature when she falls into the seat across from Harry with a steaming plate of waffles and fruit. He has her coffee ready for her just the way she likes it, a splash of cream with one sugar cube, and she can’t help but match the grin covering the lower half of his face.

Even though Nora had the best sleep of her life, and waking up next to Harry was something she wishes she could do over and over and over again—she feels guilty. Because Harry is with Alyssa and Alyssa isn’t here and the whole thing makes her head throb painfully.

So, regretfully, Nora apologizes for what feels like the hundredth time that day.

“Nora, you’ve nothing to be sorry for. Please stop apologizing, it’s driving me mad,” Harry jokes, stealing the syrup from her hands and pouring a generous amount over his stack of waffles.

“It’s just—Alyssa’s your girlfriend. And I know she doesn’t necessarily like me, but that still doesn’t make it right to share a bed with you,” Nora explains even though she knows it’s driving Harry crazy.

Harry nods, dropping his silverware against his plate so that his attention is focused solely on the girl across from him. “I know, but as I said earlier, I didn’t mind. If I didn’t want you to stay, I would have said something,” and before he resumes eating, he adds quietly, “It’s not like Alyssa’s really my girlfriend.”

“What do you mean?” Nora asks, noticing the way Harry exhales out of his mouth slowly.

“For all intents and purposes, I guess you could call her that. But it’s really only surface level, because if our parents didn’t summer together every year and force us to be together, it probably never would have happened in the first place. But it did, and we put on this show and everybody thinks we’re this happy little couple. And maybe we were, for a short while. But I haven’t really been the nicest boyfriend to her and she’s strayed on more than one occasion, and it’s all sort of scrambled,” Harry admits, staring at his tray to avoid Nora’s eyes. If he did look up, though, he would have noticed the sadness floating through her eyes and the frown swooping over her lips.

The rumors about Harry flirting with other girls and the occasional sneaky kiss in back corner’s of parties have been brought to Nora’s attention on multiple occasions. And even the ones last spring about Alyssa sneaking out of Carter’s dorm room trickled down to Nora’s group of friends, but she did her best to ignore them. Because she knows better than anyone how the rumor mill works, and even though Alyssa, Carter, and Harry did nothing to help Nora, she still couldn’t bring herself to stoop down to their level.

“Sounds like an incestuous mess to me,” Nora decides to say, trying to bring an air of lightness to the sudden uncomfortable topic of discussion.

It works, and Harry finds himself chuckling loudly across the table. “Yeah, it’s all about labels. Kind of a shitty thing to admit, but I’ve never really loved Alyssa. Can’t say I see that happening in the future, either.” He’s willingly giving Nora information that he hasn’t even told anybody before, and she’s not quite sure what to do with that revelation.

“That’s quite sad,” Nora says softly.

“Why’s that?” Harry asks, curious.

“I don’t know. Sounds like you’re just wasting your time, I guess,” Nora pauses and Harry can tell she’s trying to figure out how to phrase her next thought. “Maybe I’ve watched one too many movies, so ignore me if I’m wrong, but being with somebody isn’t supposed to feel like a chore. It should be fun. Exhilarating, even. What you have with Alyssa just sounds—exhausting.”

When Harry’s quiet for a few moments, Nora suddenly realizes that what she had just said was probably completely out of order. “Sorry if I’m overstepping, that was probably rude of me.”

Noticing Nora’s distress, Harry gives her a small smile and just shrugs his shoulders. “You’re not overstepping. You’re probably right, if I’m being honest. But at this point, there’s no use in switching things up.” There’s a brief pause in which Nora breathes out a sigh of relief, reaching towards her coffee and taking a generous sip. Before Harry realizes what he’s saying, he asks her quickly, “Have you ever had that feeling?”

“What feeling?” Nora asks.

Harry grins shyly. “Being with someone and having it be fun and exhilarating.”

Nora nods slowly, thinking about Connor. “I think so. For a little while, at least.”

“What happened?” Harry’s not sure if he’s the one who’s overstepping now. But when he notices Nora’s cheeks blush ever so subtly and her lips quirk up into sentimental half-smile, he suddenly feels an uncomfortable knot form in his stomach. It’s twisting and turning and he’s never had this feeling before—not when he found out Alyssa was sleeping with Carter, not when his parents decided to go to St. Tropez without him, not ever. But with Nora sitting across from him looking wistfully in the distance, Harry’s found that he’s practically consumed with jealousy, and he fucking hates it.

“He moved away, and I had to come back here for school,” Nora explains, breaking out of her daydream and looking back towards Harry. When she notices the unreadable expression on his face, she decides to change the subject. “So, what do you want to do today?”

Harry tries his hardest to forget about Nora’s mystery man for the rest of the day, but he can’t help it. The jealousy is like a seed planted in the depths of his stomach, and he feels it growing and growing inside of him until he’s practically turned green with envy. And he has no fucking idea why it’s bothering him so much.

Hours later, they’re back in Nora’s room for another movie night after a day filled with exchanging their favorite novels and talking about things Harry’s never even discussed with his own friends. Nora chooses Notting Hill, thinking that out of all of the movies in her favorites list, this one has got to be one that Harry’s seen before.

But when he shakes his head when she holds up the plastic DVD cover in his direction, Nora’s mouth is already on the floor and Harry can’t help but laugh at her shocked expression.

“How have you never seen this?! You’re British! You should be ashamed! I’m calling Gordon Brown and asking him to revoke your citizenship,” Nora exclaims, setting up the DVD player and inserting the disc inside the tray. She’s changed into leggings and chose Harry’s soccer sweatshirt over the worn-in Townbridge one she’s owned since freshman year, and Harry feels giddy with pride at the thought of it all.

“I already apologized for it! Give me a break, Priestley!” Harry calls back, amusement lacing his words.

Nora finds herself giggling in response, and once the title screen is displayed on the television, she peeks over her shoulder and finds that Harry is getting himself comfortable on her bed. He’s wearing track bottoms and a cream-colored henley, and when he claims the spot near the wall and burrows underneath the quilt her mother cross-stitched for her last Christmas, Nora can’t wipe the silly grin off her face.

“This movie makes me want to visit London,” Nora admits, pressing play on the remote and walking towards her bed. When Harry opens up the blanket for Nora to slide into, she does so easily, feeling the most comfortable she’s ever felt in her entire life.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, dropping the blanket underneath Nora’s chin and throwing an arm around her shoulder.

Nora surprisingly doesn’t flinch. Instead, she curls closer to his body, resting her chin on the planes of his chest and her hand just below. “Yeah.”

“I think you’d like it,” Harry whispers against the crown of her head just as the opening scene begins.

The first few scenes of the movie pass by in comfortable silence. But just after Hugh Grant meets Julia Roberts in his bookstore, Nora can practically feel Harry’s brain whizzing because he’s thinking too hard. And just when it starts to become distracting, Nora asks, “What’re you thinking about? I can hear your brain churning from here.”

He exhales out a laugh and admits truthfully, “I keep thinking about your exhilarating crush.”

Nora feels stunned all of a sudden, her body freezing against his own. “Why?” she somehow chokes out through her dry throat.

Nora can hear the gulp Harry takes from above. “I dunno. Suppose I’m very interested to know what kind of guy swept Nora Priestley off her feet.”

She sits up with her back to the television, completely ignoring the movie playing behind her. The quilt falls from her shoulders and pools around her waist, and she’s suddenly grateful for the cooler air of her dorm room whipping against her neck, because she’s grown increasingly warm. Harry slides his body up on the bed until his torso is flushed against the headboard, staring at Nora with those green eyes that for the first time, aren’t dull. Instead, they’re almost twinkling in the dim lighting of her room.

His gaze is focused solely on Nora—on the messy fringe falling against her forehead, the gentle slope of her nose, the plushness of her pink lips, the angular curve of her jawline. The way she looks buried in his sweatshirt with the sleeves falling past her fingertips causes his heart to beat loudly inside his chest, and the overwhelming urge to kiss her has never been more prominent before in his life.

“I think I’ve always thought about it,” Harry admits quietly, his eyes never falling from her own. Because if they did move, he would have missed the way her mouth parted slightly, a small inhale slipping down her throat. He would have missed the way her eyes widened almost comically, the blueness reminding him of the sky on a pleasing, clear day. And when he takes all of that into consideration, he comes to the conclusion that Nora Priestley is undoubtedly beautiful, and probably always has been. He’s always just been too stupid to realize it.

“You never said anything,” Nora whispers back, staring at Harry with the same ferocity. “You never say anything.”

Harry nods, “I know.” And when he inches his body closer to hers and notices that she doesn’t back away from him, he adds, “I’m saying it now. Am I too late?”

Nora watches the way Harry leans towards her, his body being held up by his hands that are anchored to the mattress in front of her knees. Even though the movie is still playing from the television behind her, she can’t hear anything except for the accelerated beating of her heart racking against her ribs and pounding against her chest.

He’s so close to her now, the tip of his nose brushing against her own so tactfully that Nora’s not even sure if it’s actually happening. At this proximity, Nora can see inside his eyes and she finds that they’re not as green as she once thought. Instead, they’re almost a turquoise color, with golden hues circling his pupil and when she looks closely, she can see her own face in the reflection. And suddenly, that’s the only answer she needs before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and crashing her lips against his own.

Even though Harry Styles is Nora’s third first kiss, it’s the best one she’s had yet. It’s slow at first, just the gentle pressure of two sets of lips pressing against the other’s. It’s hesitant, timid, nervous, until Harry wraps his arm around Nora’s back, pulling her closer towards him so that their fronts are completely flushed. After that, it’s intense, passionate, frenzied.

His teeth nip at her lower lip until she opens her mouth ever so slightly, allowing his tongue to slip through. Once Nora gets the message, she opens her mouth wider, angling her head to the side so that she can slip her own inside of his mouth, the two fleshy organs tangling together causing a reverberating hum to break from the back of Harry’s throat.

The sounds cause Nora to still, and when she breaks away and notices the dark hue in Harry’s eyes, the exasperated breaths causing his chest to rise and fall sporadically, the bright pinkness of his lips—it’s all Nora needs to push Harry back into his seated position against her headboard, crawling over on her knees until her legs are straddling his hips. She slinks both hands through his wild hair until they connect at the back of his head, and their lips connect for a second time.

This time, Nora’s not shy to let her teeth clink against Harry’s in a mad rush to gain dominance over their kiss. This time, Harry’s not reticent to let his hands roam the expanse of her back, slipping them underneath the bottom of his baggy sweatshirt so that his fingers can dance against her flushed skin without a barrier in between.

Nora’s hands fall from Harry’s hair to his neck, to the chain that rests against the middle of his chest that’s exposed through the unbuttoned part of his henley, all the way down his stomach until her fingers play with the hem of his shirt. When her nails lightly scratch against Harry’s lower stomach where Nora knows the tips of two tattooed ferns lie, he gets the hint and unlocks their lips, reaching his hands over her own and pulling his shirt up and over his head.

Nora sits back on Harry’s thighs, watching how Harry throws his crumpled shirt somewhere on the floor of her dorm room without care. His hair is mussed from a combination of Nora’s fingers and the quick way he removed his henley, and when Nora’s eyes ogle at the two identical swallows underneath his collarbones, the small definition of his chest, the butterfly permanently drawn in the middle of his stomach, to the small trail of hair below his belly button that disappears beneath the waistband of his track pants—she’s hot all over.

Her eyes lift back to Harry’s and find that he’s suddenly nervous. He’s blinking up at her with an indecipherable expression on his face, and when the hands that rest against her hips start to fall ever so softly, Nora grips the bottom of Harry’s sweatshirt and lifts it over her head, throwing it against the floor.

She’s sitting there, against his hips wearing a simple nude bra, and Harry feels his breath constricting in his throat at the sight of her. Her lips are swollen and her fringe is frizzy and when her teeth sink into her bottom lip and her cheeks begin to flush, Harry’s hands reach behind her neck to bring her down to his face. And just before their lips meet for the third time, he whispers, “You’re beautiful,” against her mouth, sealing it with his own so that she never forgets it.

Nora’s never done this before, but when Harry’s mouth falls to her neck and she accidentally grinds her hips into his own below in surprise, the groan that emits from his throat is practically feral. So, she does it again, her throat hitching when his teeth sink into the fleshy juncture of her shoulder and neck. One of his hands is tangled in her hair, and the other is resting on her hip. But when she grinds into him for the third time, he brings that hand up to the clasp of her bra, removing his lips from her neck and breathing against her mouth.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice sounding more strained than ever before. Nora finds that it’s unquestionably the hottest thing she’s ever heard, and when she brings her hands to rest on his searing chest, her nails scraping against his skin, the whine that falls from his lips might just be hotter.

“Yes,” Nora whispers back, holding her breath when his fingers easily undo the clasp, the straps sliding down her shoulders as the cups covering her breasts begin to fall. When she lowers her arms so that her elbows are no longer bent, the garment falls easily from her body and onto the mattress below.

Cautiously, she looks at Harry and finds that he’s looking into her eyes to make sure that she feels safe with him. The thought alone makes her nerves completely subside, and when she nods ever so slightly, Harry finally lets his eyes fall towards her chest. She watches him as he sits up, bringing his lips to the base of her throat as he places gentle kisses along the expanse of her neck, down to her sternum, until his lips are centimeters away from her breasts. When her fingers tangle into his curly hair, Harry peeks up at her briefly before placing his mouth around her right nipple, his hand softly massaging her left.

Nora’s head falls back and a moan tears through her throat, and it’s the first time that’s ever happened in her life. Harry stills, his lips moving slightly so that he can watch her, and it’s enough to make the bulge in his pants grow until it’s practically unbearable. His tongue continues to move down her body, kissing along the lines on her stomach until his hand moves to rub the fleshy part of Nora’s hips, hesitantly moving towards the front of her body. And when his right hand cups her legging-clad core, Nora’s hands halt in Harry’s hair, and he removes his lips from her body and looks at her.

“I don’t think I’m—” Nora pauses, her confident streak breaking. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t planning on having sex with you,” Harry says softly, bringing his hand up to take a piece of her blonde hair that’s fallen in front of her face and tucking it behind her ear. “We can do something else if you’d like. But the second you’re uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll stop. Okay?” He’s never been this patient with somebody before in his life, and somehow Nora can sense that. She’s incredibly grateful for Harry then, and once her breathing has regulated and she’s no longer anxious, she nods, pecking him softly on the lips.

Harry pecks her back once, twice, thrice until cupping his hand back against her front. He rubs her slowly then, and when Nora feels the stickiness from inside her underwear permeate through the thin material, she shudders against his body. His fingers curl into the waistband of her leggings, and after asking her for permission, she lifts her hips and her knees so that he can pull the black material halfway down her legs, leaving Nora in just her simple baby blue underwear.

Harry resumes his ministrations, causing Nora to wrap her arms around his neck, her elbows resting against his shoulders as her body quivers again. And when his fingertips sneak underneath the material, a long finger gently stroking her slit, Nora’s hands use Harry’s hair as an anchor as her forehead rests against his own as she emits a blissful sigh. Just before his finger slides in, he brings his lips against hers so that he can feel her moans hit the back of his throat.

It’s uncomfortable and awkward at first, and when her breath hitches in her throat and her lips break away from Harry’s, he pauses, looking at her with concern. “Do you want me to stop?”

Nora looks at him, her hand ruffling his hair tenderly as she shakes her head. Grinning, Harry brings his lips back to hers, resuming pumping his finger inside of her.

After a few strokes, Nora starts to feel her rigid body unraveling, and suddenly she’s matching Harry’s rhythm as she grinds down onto his finger. When his wet thumb starts to circle her swollen mound, another moan rips from her throat, causing their kisses to halt.

“I love that,” Harry whispers against her mouth, sucking her lower lip between his own and beginning to move his hand faster.

The stickiness is accruing inside her underwear and Nora can feel sweat brimming at the nape of her neck. She feels hot to the touch, and when Harry changes his thumb strokes from clockwise to counter-clockwise, a fluttering like no other vibrates through her lower stomach as she whines into his mouth.

“I think you’re close,” Harry says, bringing his hand that isn’t inside of her around her lower back to keep her steady. And when his finger curls and presses against a spongy spot inside of her, Nora feels the fluttering turn into a full-blown explosion, and suddenly her eyes close shut at the ferocity of it all.

Nora stills on top of him, feeling the stickiness begin to coat her inner thighs as a loud moan rips from her throat. Her hands move from Harry’s hair to his shoulder blades, and when she opens her eyes and realizes that her fingernails have carved crescent moons into the flesh, she immediately removes them.

The warmth has gone, and in its place, a numbing sort of calmness. Harry removes his hand from inside her underwear and when he looks up at her and sees her irises blown out and her cheeks pinkened and her lower lip indented by her front teeth, he grins smugly and kisses her softly.

“Alright?” he asks once her eyes have opened fully and she no longer is panting against his cheek.

Nora nods, a bit shy considering she just had her first orgasm and she’s not quite sure what to do next. She looks down and notices the bulge in Harry’s pants, and smiles at him unsurely. “If you tell me what to do, I can, er, help you out?”

Harry smirks, running a gentle hand through her hair and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, babe. Just, uh, give me a mo’. I’ll be right back,” he says softly, placing two hands on her hips and lifting her slowly so that she’s no longer straddling his waist.

When she pulls her leggings back on, the stickiness is far too uncomfortable between her thighs. Harry notices her wiggle on the mattress and chuckles to himself, finding it all too adorable. When he gets up from her bed, shifting his pants so that his erection is less painful, he turns towards Nora before crossing the hall into the communal bathrooms.

“Where do you keep your linens?” Harry asks from his position by her door. Confusedly, Nora points towards the wardrobe near her desk and he opens it slowly, grabbing a folded hand towel and passing it to her. She smiles softly, thanking him before watching him retreat into the hallway.

After Nora’s changed her underwear and put on a pair of sleep shorts, sliding Harry’s sweatshirt back over her body once her skin has cooled down, she gets back under the covers and turns her attention towards Notting Hill. Harry comes in a few minutes later, the front of his pants lacking a distinct bulge. He looks over and notices her lying comfortably in her bed, and when she moves her eyes from the screen to his figure standing in the doorway, a cute grin covers the lower half of her face.

“You coming to bed?” Nora asks, patting the spot on the mattress beside her. With a quick smile, Harry walks towards her, lifting his body over her own so that he can resume his position by the wall. And just as his arms are on either side of her body, his shirt still somewhere on her floor and his pants low on his hips, he sneaks a kiss from her lips before plopping down next to her, wrapping an arm over her shoulders tightly.

“Think we can start this movie over?” Harry asks, playing with the ends of Nora’s hair that falls inside the hood of his sweatshirt.

Nora hits rewind, wondering if it’ll hurt falling asleep with a grin permanently stuck on her face.

The next morning, Nora wakes up feeling far too warm. Her backside is flushed completely with Harry’s front, and he’s spooning her tightly. His arms are wrapped securely around Nora’s stomach and she can feel his breath against the side of her neck in hot spurts, his nose brushing the spot underneath her ear. His curly hair is tickling the sides of her face and his legs are slotted between her own and Nora’s never been so tangled up with somebody else before.

And while it’s comforting, there’s no denying that Harry’s body heat is pervading through her skin, and when she wiggles to try and figure out a way to lower the duvet from underneath her chin, it causes Harry to wake up.

As his eyes flutter open, he subconsciously brings Nora’s body closer to his own, and when he finally does open his eyes fully, he notices how close they’ve gotten in the middle of the night. Harry’s not quite sure how it happened, but somehow being wrapped up with Nora Priestley has caused him to have the best night’s sleep of his entire life.

“Morning,” she whispers, her chin resting on her left shoulder as she peeks at him behind her. Her blue eyes are foggy in the morning and her lips are beautifully swollen, and even though her hair is knotted and her cheeks have red jagged lines from her pillowcase all over them, he can’t help but grin back at her, finding her perfect.

“Hi,” he says back, his voice cracking from lack of use. They both roll over so that their backs are flat on the mattress. And just when Harry’s about to swing his arm over Nora’s shoulder to bring her closer to his body so that they can fall back asleep, his Blackberry rings loudly from the nightstand.

Before he can let it go to voicemail, he reaches around Nora’s body to grab it, gulping when he sees Alyssa’s name across the screen. Apprehensively, he brings the phone to his ear, ignoring the heat of Nora’s gaze against his cheek.

“Hello?” he mumbles halfheartedly.

“Baby! Wake up, sleepyhead! We’ll all be back on campus in, like, two hours. Our flight just landed. When will you get in?” Nails scraping down a chalkboard would be a better sound than the one he just heard through the speaker of his mobile. Because suddenly, his Nora Priestley bubble has popped. Their ten-day vacation has come to an abrupt end, and Harry can feel the panic begin to spread throughout his body.

“Harry? You there?” Alyssa asks, and it’s only then when Harry realizes he’s been deadly silent.

He coughs into his fist uncomfortably, before saying, “Hey, sorry. Uh, sounds good. My flight got in a few hours ago. I’m actually, er, pulling into campus now,” Harry lies. The familiar feeling of shame washes over him, and when he feels Nora slide out of bed beside him, a puzzled look falling across her face, he’s never felt worse in his life.

“Perfect! Can’t wait to see you, baby!” Alyssa squeals, and before Harry can respond, he hangs up the phone, tossing it purposelessly against the end of her bed.

It’s silent between the two, and not the sort of comfortable silence that they’ve grown accustomed to with each other. Instead, it’s heavy, weighing them both down until they feel fatigued under the burden of it all.

Nora knows deep down that this is it. The Harry she’s grown to adore the past ten days is no longer there. In its place is the cold, disheartening, lifeless Harry that she’s hated ever since he casted her out during the First Year Mixer almost four years ago. Just like with Connor, her romance with Harry is fleeting. It has an expiration date. And sadly, they’ve reached their end.

He doesn’t say much, and she doesn’t expect him to. He’s clearly tormented by all of this, getting out of her bed ploddingly as he scans the floor for his clothing from the night before. He’s distracted as he puts on his wrinkled Henley, slides on his boots without tying them, slips his arms inside his trench coat, and places everything else he can try to remember inside the pockets. And just before he leaves her room, he stops and turns, looking at her with those dull, green eyes from before.

This is it, Nora thinks, watching the way his eyes fall from her face towards his big sweatshirt on her body to her long legs hidden underneath her tiny sleep shorts. He’s going to apologize. He’s going to come back to bed. He’s going to—

“Can I have my jumper back?” Nora feels as if she’s just been kicked in the chest, air ripping from her lungs and falling into the space between her and Harry. She’s never felt so small in her life. And when his eyes are still dull and his foot begins to tap impatiently and he looks as if he’s about to burst, Nora knows this is truly it. The Harry she knows is officially gone.

Or maybe this is who Harry really is. And the version she got was just a figment of her imagination, an imposter Harry, a Harry that only existed within the ten days of Holiday break inside an empty Townbridge Academy.

With shaking hands, Nora rips the sweatshirt off her body, ignoring the fact that she’s only wearing a sports bra below. She flings the material at Harry’s chest, and she hopes that it diverts his attention from her trembling lips and tear-filled eyes.

He sees everything, though. And without another word, he pivots on his foot, his back towards Nora as he enters the hallway and closes her door tightly, trying his hardest to ignore the sound of her crying through the heavy oak.

Nora should have expected it, in hindsight. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

This time around, it’s not like Carter Donnelly. Instead of spreading rumors to their classmates, Harry says nothing—not even a lie to his friends, not even a subtle brag about how he was the first person to ever see Nora Priestley come undone—nothing. He keeps quiet, barely looks at her, and goes about his life the way he always has—as Townbridge’s Golden Boy, the prodigal son, who always gets whatever he wants.

And that’s what hurt the most.

Harry has enough pressure in his life—pressure from his father, pressure from his friends, pressure from fucking everybody who looks his way. It’s enough to break somebody in half, so succumbing to both is easier than fighting them.

So when his friends come back to campus and resume their lives the way they always have, Harry can’t help but follow suit. Because telling them that he spent the past ten days with Nora Priestley is simply not an option, even if they were the best ten days he’s ever had. And it’s a heartbreaking realization, because even though Harry doesn’t really care for his friends that much, he still doesn’t want to disappoint them.

Whenever he passes by Nora in the hallway, he doesn’t bother looking in her direction. When he can feel her gaze on his back in AP English, he doesn’t turn around. And when he sees her sitting at the table in the dining hall that they deemed their own for ten days, he doesn’t say anything. He just feels his heart freezing over until it’s an icy block inside of his chest.

And when he’s taking pictures with Alyssa at prom and notices Nora’s pretty blue dress that makes her eyes shine, he almost feels the ice crack. But then she looks at him, for only the briefest of moments, and in that minuscule period of time, he can see the disappointment and anger in her eyes, and it’s enough to make the ice harden.

Harry tries to convince himself that when he’s standing on stage with Alyssa with a plastic crown on his head, he doesn’t notice a flurry of blue exit through the front door. Because when he looks out in the crowd and sees an empty spot near Lydia and Margot that Nora once filled, he knows for sure that the flurry of blue was her. And halfway through his dance with Alyssa, when he’s looking at her strawberry-blonde hair and hazel eyes and makeup-filled face and expensive purple dress, Harry feels empty inside. Because he doesn’t want this anymore. He doesn’t want to be around her or his shitty friends anymore.

So he leaves.

But it’s too late—of course it’s too late. Because second chances don’t come to people like Harry, and it’s in Nora’s best interest for him to leave her alone. He’s caused enough hurt in her life, he’s done enough irreparable damage to last a lifetime.

During graduation, Harry tries his best to not look two rows ahead of him and stare at Nora in her red cap and gown. And when her name is called, he tries to ignore the singular cheer from the back of the Great Hall, the cacophonous finger whistle echoing off the walls following shortly after. He wonders if he’s the only person who can see the glimmer of pride in Nora’s eyes when she locates her mother in the back of the room. And when Alyssa scoffs under her breath from the row behind him, muttering a, “How fucking embarrassing,” to her friends, Harry turns around and tells her to fuck off.

As he’s stoically taking pictures with his mother and father in the quad after the ceremony, he sees Nora and her mother in his periphery. He’s never seen her look more beautiful than when she’s smiling with her mom, clinging to her so that they can share this moment together. And when he notices her mother’s matching blue eyes filled with pride, he looks at his own set of parents and wonders if they’ve ever looked at him like that before.

It’s almost enough to make the ice melt. But then his father is taking a business call and his mother is whisked away to talk about society functions with Alyssa’s mom, and Harry’s left standing there completely and utterly alone.

“That boy’s looking at you, Nora,” her mother says, eyes falling on somebody over Nora’s shoulder. “Do you know him?”

When Nora turns around and sees Harry standing there, green eyes full of hope and yearning and wonder, she doesn’t spare him a second look. Her head whips around just as quickly, looking at her mother with a small shake of her head.

“Nope, I don’t know him at all,” Nora says, meaning every word.

And when she drives away from Townbridge for the final time, she’s suddenly brimming with happiness at the fact that she’ll never have to see those people again. And more importantly, she’ll never have to see Harry Styles for as long as she lives.

*** A/N: When I started writing Fade, it sort of ended up playing out in three acts. So with that, this is officially the end of Act One (and officially my favorite chapter of the entire high school years.) Let me know your thoughts and predictions, my inbox is always open for those who want to scream at me. It’s probably going to happen a lot with this story. 

To make room for editing and ensuring I have enough written ahead of time for Act Two to keep with the weekly update schedule, (and because I sort of like the idea of separating things into acts because I’m annoying like that) I’ll be taking a week to sort everything out. Therefore, the next chapter and start of Act Two will be posted on Friday, March 12th. Until then, stay safe and be kind! x

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[cloudywriter]

camp staghorn - 1

Okay here is the official first chapter of Camp Staghorn! I know it’s long and maybe not the most entertaining but gotta have that building up first. Now things will start to pick up just you wait. Thank you for all the love on the snippet too! Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

my masterlist

~~~

Aelin sighed as she finally got off the bright yellow bus, her three bags weighing heavily on her arms and shoulder. The sun was already high in the sky and beating down despite Terrasen’s usually mild temperatures. Lysandra hopped down on the gravel path the bus had stopped in front of with a huff, Dorian and Elide followed. 

They were all about to spend the next week as camp counselors for a huge group of kids all in 1st-6th grade. She was just glad they had 6th graders. While Aelin loved kids but she wasn’t particularly looking forward to what she knew would be a long and tiring week. But, being a camp counselor would look great for her college applications. It was the summer right before their senior year, school had ended only a week prior. 

A number of other people who looked around her age shuffled about the area already convening into their respective friend groups. A few sat around old wooden picnic tables that were set up outside of the camp’s entrance. A huge sign was erected overhead with the words Camp Staghorn painted in white block letters. 

Chaol finally exited the bus and came to stand by Aelin.

“Really, Aelin? Three bags?” Chaol commented, shifting his singular black, duffel bag on his shoulder. 

Aelin shrugged, “I didn’t know what all I would need.”

Chaol only half-heartedly shook his head. Although Aelin and Chaol had broken up in the middle of junior year their relationship was still relatively amicable. 

Lys quickly shoved between Aelin and Chaol. “Aelin, look!” She whispered loudly into Aelin’s ear, pointing towards a group of boys occupying the grass near the entrance. 

At that, Aelin perked up, especially when she laid eyes on the group. Seriously, four of some of the best-looking high school boys she had ever seen were huddled there. 

A boy with tan, golden skin and blonde curly hair piled on his head seemed to be the focal point of the group, Aelin could hear his voice all the way where she was but couldn’t discern what he was saying. The boy immediately next to him looked to be his brother but with a brown mop of hair instead. Two other boys were there too, one with long, straight brown hair and a grumpy demeanor radiating off of him. The other boy was who Aelin really noticed though, his hair was a unique blonde, it appeared almost silver and was cut shorter, his skin had a healthy glow. He was in the circle with the other boys but she could tell his mind wasn’t. He was looking out at the expansive, blue lake that could be seen just through the trees with a thoughtful, pensive stare on his features. 

Dorian stepped up behind Aelin, following Lys’s finger to the gathering of boys. 

“Oh, they go to Mistward High. Chaol and I have had a few lacrosse games against them,” Dorian offered nonchalantly. 

“They’re gorgeous,” Lys giggled. 

Aelin shoved Lysandra’s shoulder playfully, “You’re dating my cousin!”

“I know, I know, but maybe you could have a summer camp fling. Oh, my gods! Like Camp Rock, you hear him singing your song, or whatever happened, and boom it’s love at first sight.” Aelin laughed and rolled her eyes. 

At her laugh, the silver-haired boy turned his eyes in her direction and they made brief eye contact, Aelin gave him a small smile and the boy looked away immediately. Well, that was rude. 

A man suddenly stepped up onto one of the empty picnic tables, a clipboard in hand. His hat was embroidered with Camp Staghorn and he wore a matching t-shirt in a deep green hue. 

“Alright, everyone listen up please!” He clapped his hands a few times to grab everyone’s attention. 

“My name is Gavriel, I’m the director of Camp Staghorn so if you have any questions, comments, or concerns I’m the guy to come to. Now, you all have signed off on behaving and being camp counselors who will set a good example but let’s just go over a few ground rules. First, no funny business between boys and girls camps especially at night, stay in your cabins after lights out. Second, remember to clean up after yourselves and your campers. Third, stay on top of your respective schedules. And really, just use common sense please, you’re all seniors you know the difference between right and wrong I don’t want to have to stand up here and list out a bunch of rules for a bunch of hypothetical scenarios, understood?”

A few head nods and murmurs of yes rippled through the crowd. 

“Great, then I’ll skip over that, you all know what’s expected of you. I’m going to call up names and give you a packet and a t-shirt. In that packet will be a list of your campers, your camp number, your cabin number, a map, and your camp’s schedule for the next week. The schedules are very packed so remember to stay on top of things, okay?”

More nods and murmurs of acknowledgment. 

Gavriel began to call names and people milled up to him to grab their new belongings. 

“Fenrys Moonbeam.” A few snickers went through the group and the blonde boy from earlier proudly made his way up to Gavriel. 

A few more names were called, Aelin remembered hearing the other two boys were named Lorcan and Connall but she was focused on learning the silver-haired boy’s name. 

“Rowan Whitethorn.” At that, the boy - Rowan - approached the table. Aelin thought the name fit him. 

“Elide Lochan.” Elide quickly made her way to Gavriel as Dorian, Chaol, and Lysandra got called too. 

“Aelin Galathynius.” Aelin made her way up, her heavy bags hitting her legs as she walked. She acquired the packet and shirt from Gavriel. 

A list of around twelfth names of girls looked back at Aelin. She skimmed them and saw written across the top was her camp number and cabin number with her schedule and map attached. Camp number 6 and cabin 3B. Lys peeked over Aelin’s shoulder.

“Oh, good you have 3B, Elide has 2B and I have 4B.” 

Aelin smiled but the three girls were a little put out when they noticed their schedules didn’t really align besides the designated meal times. “What are Dorian and Chaol’s cabins?”

“I don’t know they were in the E ones, they put the boys and girls on opposite sides,” Elide answered. Aelin nodded her head. 

“Okay, everyone should have everything now. The kids should arrive in about an hour, so make your way to your cabins and get dressed in your camp shirts. Then we will have a get-to-know-you activity and a little kick-off game when everyone arrives,” Gavriel spoke again.

Once they were dismissed everyone headed towards the cabins and mentally prepared themselves for an incoming army of children. 

+++

The introductions had gone fairly well, Aelin could probably name at least seven of the girls’ names off the top of her head. They all appeared friendly and like they would be a solid group, Aelin found herself looking forward to the week surprisingly. 

The girls and Aelin had all gotten settled in their cabin and were dressed in matching deep green shirts with the number 6 printed largely in white on the back. They made their way to the center of the camp which accommodated a large wooden stage and matching benches lined up around it in a semi-circle. It was clear at some point the stage and benches had been painted with bright colors and patterns but the paint had begun to peel off with time. 

Aelin directed the girls to all sit on the middle bench in the third row as she surveyed the area, looking for any sign of Elide and Lysandra. Most groups were finishing up their introduction games and convening in the main area now as instructed. 

Elide appeared from around a group of trees, her girls trailing closely behind. Aelin smiled when she saw her and waved her over. They all quickly settled in and waited for the second part of the day to start. 

“I’m already sweating through this shirt,” Elide sighed, fanning herself with the packet given to them earlier. 

“Do you know what the kick-off game is?” Aelin asked Elide curiously. 

Elide only shook her head.

A few minutes passed and the benches started to get pretty packed with people all chatting noisily. 

A cough into a mic alerted everyone, a dozen heads shifted towards the stage. 

“Alright, I believe we have all the 6th-grade groups here so why don’t we get started,” Gavriel spoke with enthusiasm. 

“So, get ready boys and girls for the great Staghorn mud race! Groups will be pinned against groups, boys vs. girls until there’s only one undefeated girl’s team and one undefeated boy’s team remaining and then we will have the final throw down!”

A few whoops went through the crowd. Fenrys was close to the stage pumping his arm in the air, hyping up his collection of young boys. 

“Follow me to the track and we will announce the beginning brackets!” Gavriel hopped off of the stage, he and a few other officials of the camp led the way down a dirt path steering away from the stage. 

They all stopped after a short trek, huddled around a middle strip of field complete with obstacles. 

“Here you can see what you’ll have to face. First, you have to high knee through the tires, then climb up the wooden wall using the rope and slide down the net on the other side, next crawl through one of the tunnels, and hop from log stump to log stump and book it to the finish line! Of course, you have to do all of that in slippery mud, it will be messy. The first team to get their counselor and all their campers through wins and moves on to the next round,” Gavriel explained. 

Aelin could feel the anticipation and eagerness radiating off of counselors and kids alike. Even Aelin was feeling excited, her overly competitive nature boiling to the surface. 

Aelin swiftly turned to her small army of 12-year-olds. “Okay, girls, I want every single one of you to be booking it the whole way through, we will come out the winners at all costs, I don’t do losing.”

The girls looked up at Aelin with wide eyes, many nodding their agreement.

“Oh, I forgot to mention the overall winning camp gets ice cream after dinner tonight!” Gavriel interjected.

The stakes were high, not only was Aelin competitive to a fault but she also loved sweets. “Yup, that only confirms it, no losing!” 

“We’ll give it our all, promise,” spoke one of her campers. A girl with long brown hair contained in two long braids named Borte, if Aelin remembered correctly. 

Aelin smiled, “That’s the spirit,” and offered Borte a high-five. 

Gavriel called out the first two camp numbers, both boy groups, that would be competing. 

Aelin watched the match closely, noting areas she thought seemed best to avoid and strategizing in her mind. After the race concluded two other camps occupied the starting line, those being made up of girls. 

A few more matches came to a close when Dorian and Chaol’s respective groups were called up. Aelin, Lys, and Elide all gave a little whoop, Aelin patted Dorian on the back as he passed her, he flashed back a dazzling smile. 

Unfortunately, one of the boys on Dorian’s team fell in the mud and tripped a good number of his fellow campmates, wrecking Dorian’s chances of winning as Chaol and his boys slipped by. 

“C’mon Dorian!” Aelin screamed, cupping her hands around her mouth. A few of her girls did the same, encouraging them to get a move on despite them not knowing Dorian; it made Aelin smile. Chaol’s team took the victory and Dorian trudged past Aelin in defeat, his body covered in mud. 

At one point Fenrys’ camp and Rowan’s camp went against each other. Aelin subconsciously watched that match like a hawk. Rowan was fast despite the mud and the t-shirt he had changed into seemed to be a bit small, it clung to his upper body, highlighting his muscles. Not to mention, the green complimented his hair and skin tone beautifully. 

Rowan was effective in herding his campers through the course, offering a helping hand and encouragement the whole way through unlike Fenrys who completed the obstacles first and resolved to yell at his campers to hurry. Unsurprisingly, Rowan and his camp crossed the finish line as a unit, Fenrys did not look happy but Aelin saw Rowan crack a smile, it was small but it was there.

As time went on both Lys and Elide had gone. Elide’s group had lost against a random camp while Lys had won. 

“Alright, last up for the beginning bracket we have camp 6 and camp 9!”

Aelin cracked her knuckles, she had been waiting for camp 6 to be called impatiently. 

“Okay, girls, now is our time to shine. Get out there and make me proud, remember stick to the sides, the middle seems to be the most slippery. If you slip it's okay just get right back up, don’t leave anyone behind.” All of them nodded in response. 

“Hands in,” Aelin said, sticking her hand in the middle of the huddle, “On 3, 1, 2, 3!”

As Aelin yelled three she and all her campers screamed camp 6 and raised their hands in the air and then took their spot on the starting block. 

The counselor of the opposing team seemed snooty, her nose was upturned as if she couldn’t believe she would have to get dirty in a few seconds. Her bright, almost white, blonde hair was braided down her back and she had her arms crossed. 

Aelin didn’t have a chance to say anything before Gavriel blew his whistle signaling the start of the race. 

Aelin exploded forward, focusing on her footing as she went. Luckily, she was athletic and had played a multitude of sports, including track, throughout the years. Aelin easily made her way through the rows of tires, turning back to check her girls’ progress. They all were keeping up and moving as a unit. Aelin didn’t waste the time to check the other group’s position. 

Aelin made it to the wall and grabbed the thick, coarse rope now caked with mud. Her hands slipped but she gritted her teeth and made it to the top of the platform. Borte was right behind her climbing, Aelin reached and grabbed Borte’s hand pulling her up the rest of the way. 

Aelin continued that cycle with the rest, offering support when the girls struggled with their grip on the rope then she slid down the net once they were all over the top. 

“You got it, girls, keep going!” Aelin encouraged. 

Aelin crawled through one of the large, black, plastic tunnels, getting covered with mud in the process. Then she jumped from log to log though they too were coated with mud. Aelin finished off strong, leading the last of her girls across the finish line. Aelin turned her attention back to the course and saw the other camp’s counselor still on the track. 

She was truly taking the time to scrap some of the mud off her shoe on the edge of one of the log stumps. 

“Remelle! It’s a race, you have to run!” Fenrys screamed from the side. Remelle, apparently, didn’t deign to respond, she only wrinkled her nose. 

“Well, camp 6 will be moving on!” Gavriel declared. 

Aelin and her girls cheered, jumping at each other forming one big mud hug. 

The cycle continued, camps faced off until the brackets grew smaller and smaller. By the time Aelin and her girls went for a second time, the mud on her body was drying uncomfortably. 

They succeeded in beating the other group once more using the same strategy. 

Before Aelin knew it Gavriel was announcing the final match-up. 

“Let’s get a drumroll please for our final throw down,” Gavriel stated, drumming his hands on his knees along with the crowd. 

“Representing the boys we have camp 12 and representing the girls we have camp 6!”

The crowd yelled and clapped wildly, Aelin knew she was smiling uncontrollably and was ready to claim her sweet, cold prize. 

“Aelin! Aelin! Aelin!” She heard Lys, Elide, and other girls screaming rhythmically. 

The boys started up their own chant, which Dorian and Chaol joined, Aelin would punish them later. It was then Aelin fully realized who she was facing: Rowan. The adrenaline had blinded her the last few rounds and she had barely processed who was winning and losing. Now, Rowan Whitethorn was staring back at her from the opposite side of the start. 

Even with mud covering much of his body and splattered across his face he was still insanely hot. Aelin hoped the same could be said about her. 

Too soon Gavriel announced the beginning of the final race, a loud whistle filled the air and they were off. 

Once again, Aelin and her girls stuck to the less muddy sides, navigating the course expertly but it seems Rowan and his boys were doing the same. Aelin didn’t spare much time analyzing their positions but she could tell it was much closer than the previous races. Once again, Aelin fought her way up the rope and dangled off the platform to pull up strugglers. She spared a glance at Rowan, he was doing the same. She huffed, “C’mon girls, it's the last time you have to climb this, you’ve got it!”

Aelin finally got the last one over and flopped down the net which was saturated with mud at this point. Aelin was really looking forward to washing this all off later while she ate her ice cream. She then dove into the tunnel, slithering through at a record speed. Next came the home stretch, all she had to do was jump across the logs. She hopped from one stump to another until she was almost at the end. But on the second to last log, the mud that gathered atop it faltered and she stumbled. Cursing, Aelin regained her footing and prayed it was still enough.

Little did she know Rowan had had his own little tumble. Now, they were neck and neck making a final dash to the finish line. Rowan was probably a bit faster than Aelin and she panicked, her instincts to win at all costs taking over. It just so happened that Rowan was just close enough for her to give him a little nudge, to maybe upset his balance just enough that she could pull ahead. Aelin did just that and Rowan went down, his foot slipped into a small ditch of mud water. In hindsight, Aelin felt dirty but not enough to feel particularly remorseful when she heard the roar of victory from the crowd and her camp. 

Aelin turned back and saw Rowan was glaring at her, his foot still submerged in mud. She halted her victory dance and made her way over to him, offering him a hand.

Rowan took it, his large hand dwarfing hers but the feeling of mud squishing between them did ruin the moment for her a bit. Instead of using her hand as leverage, Rowan pulled Aelin towards him and she stumbled, slipping back until she was next to him in his mud pit. 

Aelin saw red, although she realized she probably deserved it and was already covered in mud anyway her temper rose. Aelin was just naturally wired to explode at any moment like a nuclear bomb. 

Rowan, however, kept his grip firm on Aelin’s hand and he drew her forward until his mouth aligned with Aelin’s ear. 

“You’ll pay for that one, Aelin.” Rowan’s breath caressed her ear and a shiver traveled down her spine. Despite the fact he was literally threatening her, Aelin’s heart skipped a beat and her breath hitched.

She kept her bravado about her though and only smirked in response, “It’s on.”

~~~

Hope you’re as excited as I am! All comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated, thank you. 

taglist: @live-the-fangirl-life

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Dorothea

I can’t believe I’m back! It’s been a little rough these past couple of months but I’m happy to be writing again and hopefully will bring it back to my daily routine! Taylor released a new album so of course I had to write something! I hope you guys enjoy, it’s just a little silly thing.

“We are a failure.”

“We have five Grammys.”

“We are a failure with five Grammys.”

Gavriel snorted at the same time Lorcan threw a piece of paper at Fenrys’s head. Rowan simply sighed, resting his head against the table and letting out a deep groan.

“Why can’t we release the album with twelve songs?” He raised his head, looking at his bandmates. “Every single song we tried to write this past week was absolute shit. I don’t want to shove some lame ass song on our album because my aunt feels like we should have thirteen songs like the last two albums.”

“Yeah, sure.” Fenrys snorted. “Why don’t you go tell Maeve that?”

Vaughan chuckled, putting the drumsticks down and walking to the table where Fenrys, Rowan, and Connall were sitting. Lorcan and Gavriel both sat on the ground nearby, ripping out bad half-finished lyrics from some notebooks.

“We need a vocalist, that’s why he won’t do it.” Vaughan singsonged, sitting by Connall’s side. “We have been trying to write the songs together, why don’t we try something each one of us wrote separately?”

There was a beat of silence. For the five years the band had been together, every single song had been written by all the members. Sometimes two or three of them would do most of the work, but out of their thirty eight songs, there wasn’t one that didn’t have a contribution from all the members. Yeah, they would write their own songs, but it was never really serious or even meant to be used in an album.

And because they weren’t serious or meant to be used in an album, they were either absolute shit or fucking personal.

Rowan held in another groan.

Lorcan shrugged, getting up and sitting by Rowan’s side. Gavriel did the same, sitting on the table head opposite to where Fenrys was.

“Ok, who’s gonna go first?” Gavriel clapped his hands. “Fenrys.”

“Why me?” He squeaked.

“Why not you?” Connall butted in.

“Yeah, why not you?” Vaughan backed his boyfriend.

“Rowan, this is a mutiny against me.” Fenrys turned his head to Rowan, pouting like a child.

Both Rowan and Lorcan smiled sarcastically, and the latter said, “you are not the one in charge. If it was a mutiny, it would be against Rowan.”

“Who asked for the vulture to speak?” Fenrys asked, eyes narrowing at Lorcan.

“Just show us a goddamn song, Fen.” Rowan sighed, rubbing his temples. A few years ago, he had insisted for Gavriel to be the leader of the band. The older man had refused profusely, and Rowan only found out why when he started being the leader.

He was surrounded by adults who had the money and influence of gods but acted like children.

It was like being a mother but without the Mother’s day gifts. No advantages, really.

As instructed, Fenrys presented three songs for the group. And then Vaughan did. And then Connall, Gavriel, and Lorcan.

“I don’t know how to say this politely…” Connall started.

“They are absolute shit.” Lorcan finished.

“Shit is a compliment.” Rowan nodded, letting out a straggled laugh. He scratched the stubble on his cheeks, a small sense of panic rising inside of him. It wasn’t that Rowan was shy— he had let go of his shyness a long time ago—, but that didn’t mean he liked to go around advertising his personal ideas to the world. Some lyrics drafts should remain just that— drafts. Not everything was meant to be heard by everyone. Gathering some of his courage along with the knowledge that an acceptable song was an absolute necessity, he sighed. “I might have something.”

“What is it?” Gavriel said calmly at the same time Lorcan grunted. “You have something and you let us go through the torture of listening to Fenrys’s ideas?”

“You hurt my feelings like that, man.”

Rowan ignored both Lorcan and Fenrys, turning to Gavriel. “It’s about a girl.”

The room was dead silent.

Rowan knew he wasn’t really the dating type, much less the type to write songs about love, but the absolute silence was a little offensive.

“Ok…” Vaughan said, a scary smile on his face. “That came out of nowhere.”

“You can love someone?” Connall asked.

“You can feel emotions?” Fenrys deadpanned after his twin finished his sentence.

Lorcan snorted and Rowan saw Gavriel biting the inside of his cheeks. Absolute regret washed over his body immediately, but it was too late to back down.

Rowan tried to play it cool, keeping any emotions out of his face. He shrugged, opening a notebook and tapping a pen against it. “Not anyone I’ve seen in years. I don’t even remember her real name.”

The Cadre exchanged looks.

“When I was a kid my parents used to send me to this summer camp. From ages six to thirteen there was this girl who also went every single summer. She was a year younger, but we were friends. Barely talked during the rest of the year, maybe exchanged a letter or two.” He continued, eyes skimming through the lyrics in front of him. “Childhood crush and all. I know her name started with an A… Maybe an E? The counselors used to call her Dorothy, and I thought it was Dorothea. Called her that for two months until she corrected me. The nickname stuck between us, so yeah, Dorothea is all I have. I was thirteen when I stopped going, so she was twelve. Probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“Oh, that’s cute… Tragic young love and all.” Fenrys was smiling like an idiot, and Rowan rolled his eyes. He had never talked to anyone about Dorothea, not even his parents, not even when he was a kid. Life at home was shit during the whole year, but the summers? They were for late nights, swimming in the lake, running in the forest. They were sunny, and easy, and the few good memories he had from childhood. And she was in all of those memories— the girl and that fucking dog. Dorothea was the purest thing about his childhood, and he never wanted to have her memory stained by telling about her to his parents or school friends.

“Let me see this.” Vaughan said, taking Rowan’s notebook before Rowan could react. His friend’s pitch black eyes skimmed rapidly through the page, mouth opening slowly. “Holy shit.”

“It’s shit?” Lorcan asked.

“No, I mean holy shit as in this is amazing.” Vaughan looked up, brows raised. He passed the notebook to Gavriel, making both Lorcan and Connall move closer to read it too.  “You had this song for two years now according to the date on the edge of the page. Why didn’t you share?”

Rowan cleared his throat, regret just growing more and more. “We write every song together.”

“If every song you write is like this, then we should probably let you take care of this task from now on.” Lorcan said, taking the notebook and throwing it to Fenrys.

Fenrys’s was probably Rowan’s best friend. They knew each other for the longest, and even though Rowan would never admit it out loud, Fenrys was the closest thing he had to a family and his approval was important.

Fen raised his head from the notebook, dark eyes shinning as a huge smile broke his face in half. “We’re recording this. Today.”

Connall and Vaughan laughed, and Lorcan clapped Rowan’s back. “Good job, birdie.”

Rowan didn’t know exactly what he was feeling, but somewhere between absolute fright and excitement could probably describe it.

—————

“Rowan Whitethorn!” A female voice rang through the room, and every member of the Cadre winced.

“Your aunt is gonna kill you.” Connall said, face washed with fear.

Maeve Whitethorn was the scariest woman to ever walk this earth, and so Rowan didn’t think Connall was completely wrong about that.

And yet, when Maeve entered the room she was…

“What the fuck.” Fenrys blurted out.

Smiling?

“She smiles.” Fenrys loudly whispered to Lorcan, receiving a punch to his arm.

“You, my nephew, are a fucking genius.”

“Yeah, ok, what the fuck.” Vaughan asked from the drums.

“What did I do?” Rowan asked cautiously, afraid that his aunt had actually gone insane.

“Dorothea, that’s what you did!”

“People liked the song then?” Gavriel asked from the couch. “It was a filler song, but good to know that’s not forgotten.”

“Oh, you’re not understanding.” Maeve laughed. All the boys’ jaws went slack. “People are eating that song up. And I mean trending everywhere, top in every single chart… Everyone loves Dorothea.”

“But how?” Lorcan frowned. “We didn’t advertise it.”

“Because people love a real life story of love.”

With that comment, Rowan’s body went taunt.

What the fuck.

No one in the band had told anyone what the song was about, nor that it was a real thing. For all the world knew, it was just another song that the band wrote together. And that’s how it should have stayed. Rowan hated being the center of attentions, and hated even more when his personal life was the topic at matter.

Dorothea had been his secret for so long, and he really thought that the song would be a secretive way to tell the story to the world.

If people knew it was real, if people knew anything about it, it was obviously not as secretive as he thought it was gonna be.

Shit, Dorothea wasn’t even her real fucking name. There’s no way anyone could know that.

Unless…

“Wait, she heard the song?” Rowan blurted out, a mix of emotions making his stomach drop. That also wasn’t on his plans.

Fenrys’s eyes widened. “Dorothea came forward?”

“Holy shit.” Vaughan let out a nervous laugh. Connall put a hand over his mouth, and both Lorcan and Gavriel looked at Rowan.

The boys knew how Rowan wanted this song to go. Knew he didn’t want the real story to go around like this. Because when stories went around like this, people would start making theories, and harassing the girl, and just shoving themselves in situations that did not concern them. Rowan loved his fans, loved the world he was in, but he was also the first to admit how brutal it could be. It would only take one slip up, one fact about this girl that the media didn’t like, for the whole world to attack her.

Rowan tried to protect her from his fucked up life during childhood just to throw her to the sharks later on.

And yet, another part of his panic had nothing to do with the media and the fans. It had to do with her. What if she hated the song? What of she didn’t want that story to be told? What if she wished for a calm life where her presence would never be noticed by the media? Rowan couldn’t stop thinking about her reaction, if she had remembered him the first time she listened to it or if it took a while.

He felt like his own body was trying to suffocate itself.

Fuck, he was gonna vomit. Or maybe pass out. Shit maybe even pass out on a pool of his vomit.

Ok, that was disgusting.

“It wasn’t the girl who came forward, it was her roommate. Posted a video online and then boom! Global success.” Maeve said, not even noticing her nephew’s growing panic. “Wait, I’ll show you the video!”

Fenrys grabbed Rowan’s shoulder, sitting by his side on the couch as Maeve plugged her phone to the projector. Lorcan sat between Rowan and Gavriel on the couch, and Connall and Vaughan sat on the ground. All of them looked expectantly at the screen, waiting for the bomb to drop.

He was gonna see her again.

After sixteen years.

Shit, it was getting hot inside that fucking room.

The screen popped up, and a beautiful woman with green eyes and long dark brown hair showed up.

“That’s not her.” Rowan blurted out. She could have dyed her hair, facial expression changed over the years but… That wasn’t the girl he met during the summer. No, he would recognize her eyes anywhere, and they sure as hell weren’t green like his.

Maeve rolled her eyes. “I told you it was her roommate who came forward. Now watch.”

The video started playing, and the strong and excited voice of the smiling woman on the screen started sounding through the speakers. “Ok, so I was driving home the other day, listening to the new album of the Cadre when the song Dorothea came up, right? And I thought that it was a little strange for the Cadre to put a rerecording of a song on the album since they had never done it before.”

The girl started to walk around her apartment, excitement lacing every single word.

“But then I found out that Dorothea is not a rerecording. But that doesn’t make sense, because I was a hundred percent sure I already knew this story. I don’t know any Dorothea, and I sure as hell don’t know Rowan Whitethorn, so it made no sense that I already knew the story being told in the song.” The girl let out a laugh, entering a room inside her apartment. “For days I would listen to that fucking song and keep asking myself why I feel like I know it. It’s not from a book, a movie…”

She started pulling out a box from under the bed, smile widening.

“And so yesterday my roommate asked me to grab an old box of VHS under her bed when I saw this box.” She filmed a huge box in front of her, the lid barely containing all the photos inside. “And that’s when I remembered where I know Dorothea from.”

The girl laughed again, opening the lid and running her hand through the pictures. “I knew the story because she had told me years ago. Dorothea wasn’t her fucking name, it was her nickname.”

As if in slow motion, the brunette took out an old picture from inside the box. Rowan felt all the air leaving his lungs as he stared at it. The picture was a little blurry, but there was no mistaking it. It was eight year old him in swim trunks, his arm over the shoulder of a shorter seven year old blond girl. Her biking was pink and full of frills, her wet blond hair sticking to her shoulders. She was holding a small black puppy, the dog obviously trying to wiggle himself out of the picture. The both stood before the lake, smiling brightly, a bunch of teeth missing. The girl in the video turned the picture, and right there, written in a fading blue pen was what made the song so famous.

Dorothea and Roro and Toto. Summer of 2000.

The girl in the video turned the camera back to her, smile not leaving her lips. “She told me that the nickname was Dorothea because the counselors used to call her Dorothy. As in the Wizard of Oz. The dog’s name was Toto, and so she was Dorothy. But then, he understood it wrong and just called her Dorothea. And…”

“What are you doing in my room?” A sweet, soft, and low voice interrupted whatever the brunette was going to say. She let out a yelp, letting the phone fall.

And the screen went black.

The room was silent for a few minutes after the video was over.

“Well shit.” Fenrys broke the silence. “What are the chances of her being as beautiful as her roommate?”

Lorcan reached behind Rowan to hit Fenrys on the back of his head.

“We should put a gag in his mouth.” Gavriel sighed.

“Oh, kinky.” Fenrys smiled seductively and winked at Gavriel. If it weren’t for the absolute shock raging inside of him, Rowan would have laughed.

“Is there a video of her?” Rowan quietly asked his aunt.

She looked at him for a second too long before nodding. “Just a second, there might be one. She isn’t really one for the cameras, but I do think she showed up in a Halloween video.”

She wasn’t one for the cameras.

Shit, shit, shit.

She wasn’t one for the cameras and Rowan had made her existence global knowledge.

Maeve took a few seconds to try to find the video, smiling again once she found it.

“This is still fucking weird. Your aunt can smile.” Fenrys said, and Rowan was glad for the words. Everything was happening too fast and too slow at the same time, and Fenrys’s stupid comments were a good way of centering himself. Looking at his friend, Rowan realized that Fenrys knew exactly what he was doing. “I thought she had lost the ability when she was, like, five or something.”

“That would imply that Maeve was ever a child.” Vaughan whispered from the ground.

Connall snorted, and Lorcan tried to contain a smirk.

“Here it is!” Maeve announced.

As if the screen was a magnet, all the eyes in the room snapped back to it. They all watched the screen expectantly, and Rowan thought Fenrys was even bouncing on his seat.

A petite woman appeared, clad in a black dress that matched her pitch black hair and eyes. If Rowan wasn’t so distracted, maybe he would have noticed Lorcan’s low, and yet sharp, intake of breath.

The pale girl was in the middle of two taller guys, one with inky black hair with a crown on top of it, sapphire eyes contrasting with the blood red of his cloak, and the other one with golden blond hair under a pirate hat. The three of them stared at a tall woman dressed in what Rowan supposed was a reaper costume. The white blond hair and golden eyes made her perfect for the part.

“He’s a cunt.” The reaper girl said, picking her nails with a scythe Rowan wasn’t absolutely sure was fake. The girl behind the camera— the brunette that recorded the video that exposed the real meaning of the song, Rowan supposed— chuckled as the two other guys exchanged a humorous look.

The petite woman smiled, obviously in agreement with her friend. “He is, but that’s ok. Did Tam end our three year relationship, six hours before Halloween, through the phone? Yes. Were we planning on a couple’s costume and I was left like an idiot wearing an Evie O’Connell costume with no Rick? Yes. But that’s ok because I have…”

“Me.” That same low and soft voice filled the room again, and as if she was always the center of attentions, all heads in the video snapped to her. Even though she wasn’t on camera yet, Rowan could hear the smile in her voice.

The blond guy rolled his eyes. “You have a thing for dramatic entrances, Aelin.”

Aelin.

Her name was Aelin.

“Reason why I live, actually. But come on. Don’t I deserve a dramatic entrance when I look like this? I look rather fucking dashing as Rick O’Connell, don’t I?”

“She does.” The guy with inky black hair nodded towards the blond guy.

“Don’t encourage her.” The other grunted, shaking his head but obviously smiling. “If my cousin’s head grows a little bit more she won’t be able to pass through the door.”

And then, as if time itself had stopped that second, the camera turned to Aelin and all oxygen left the room.

“Fucking shit.” Connall breathed, and Rowan saw Fenrys’s jaw going slack from the corner of his eye.

In his defense, so did Rowan’s.

The woman— Aelin— was exactly what she had just called herself. Fucking dashing.

Golden strawberry hair pulled back into one of those high, terribly made buns, slightly tan skin, and bright blue eyes, Aelin was every inch dashing she claimed to be. The costume was exactly what Brendan Fraser had wore the majority of the movie, and hell if it didn’t fit her perfectly. Aelin had grown to be the most beautiful woman Rowan had ever seen, and he felt his heart doing laps inside his chest just like when he was younger.

Well, fuck.

“If she was Rick O’Connell in the movies I would have probably paid more attention.” Fenrys muttered, dodging another hit from Lorcan. “What?! Look at her. The girl looks like the offspring of an angel and a supermodel.”

Aelin grinned, straight white teeth biting her lower lip. “Thank you, Dorian. And, I don’t need encouragement, Aedion. I am quite capable of being narcissistic on my own.”

The girl with blond white hair chuckled. “You were supposed to be a reaper with me.”

Aelin fake pouted. “Elide, my dearest cousin,” Aelin said pointedly, eyes narrowing at Aedion. Elide, the petite girl dressed as Evie, bit her cheeks to keep a smile in. “Needed me. Put a crown on top of your pretty head and do a couple’s costume with your boyfriend, Manon.”

Dorian sighed. “I tried convincing her.”

Manon simply crossed her arms. “I don’t do couple’s costume.”

Aelin shrugged nonchalantly. “Pity.”

And then, much to Rowan’s absolute panic and fascination, Aelin turned directly to the camera. She was obviously going to talk to the girl recording, but Rowan could barely hear the words as her full face came into view. Aelin was beautiful, but Aelin staring straight at you? Breathtaking.

“Don’t you think it’s a pity, Lys?” Aelin asked innocently, but a smirk graced her lips.

The smile in Lys’s voice was obvious. “Oh, yes. A pity.”

Aelin smiled, turning to Elide with a raised brow. Her cousin gave a less vicious version of Aelin’s smile. “Such a pity.”

It was obviously some inside joke, because Manon grunted, rolling her eyes. “Are we going or not?”

Aelin rich laugh drowned the room before the video ended.

“Well.” Vaughan said after a few beats of silence.

“Well.” Gavriel agreed.

“Well.” Another voice came from the door, and Rowan had to keep a displeased grunt in as Erawan walked into the room. The man was smiling sarcastically, eyeing the frozen image on the screen hungrily. Aelin had thrown her head back, mouth half open as she laughed. “Would you be pissed if I asked her hand in marriage, Rowan? Quite a beautiful girl, your Dorothea.”

Rowan would have gotten up and punched Erawan if Fenrys hadn’t literally sat on his lap before he could do anything. His friend turned to Erawan with a smile on his lips. “Unfortunately, Ewew, I believe the lady in question must prefer to stick to humans. She doesn’t really look like the I-do-demons type.”

Despite the obvious tension in the room, Connall took out his phone and took a picture of Fenrys sitting on Rowan’s lap. Lorcan had his arm behind both Gavriel and Rowan, and Vaughan was sitting in between Rowan and Lorcan’s leg. “You guys look like a strange ass family. This is gonna be this year’s Christmas card. I’ll photoshop myself in.”

Lorcan snorted, shaking his head before looking at Erawan. “Let’s leave the girl out of this, alright? If any of us wanted to use her for advertisement, we would have contacted her ourselves.”

“I’m your PR.” Erawan smiled. He was, a fact that the whole Cadre regretted. All pf them waited excitedly for the day Erawan’s contract expired.

Maeve was hard and cold, Erawan was a straight up asshole. Not even his aunt could put up with him for long.

“A very unfortunate fact you never let us forget, Earwax.” Fenrys said, nodding diplomatically. “Very, very unfortunate.”

“I don’t want her involved in any of this shit.” Rowan finally said something, voice low and threatening. Just the thought of throwing his childhood friends to the wolves that surrounded his life made his stomach turn. “You are my PR, so do your job. Create a distraction, release some rerecording, book us some interviews… I don’t care, but I want the focus away from her. I don’t want her involved in anything, Erawan. I mean it.”

The room was silent, tension threatening to suffocate anyone who breathed deep enough.

To Rowan’s surprise, and some gratefulness, Maeve took a step forward. She unplugged her phone from the projector, and Aelin’s image disappeared. “I believe it’s better if we keep the girl out of this. She’s very low profile, private accounts on both Twitter and Instagram. Dragging her into spotlight might not be a good option, specially since we don’t know how she behaves, what it would do to the image of the band. We have a love story, let the fans speculate, do some theories. Everything will die down in a month and she’ll be able to continue with her life.”

For all her harshness, all her coldness, Maeve wasn’t a bad aunt. She started taking care of Rowan when he was fifteen, and although they never had a close relationship, Maeve knew how to help him whenever he really needed it. It was the reason why he asked her to be the band manager, despite her obvious dislike of the human race. She was smart, cunning, and, at that moment, was using both qualities to keep Aelin out of what would become a huge mess.

“If we bring her in, there is nothing to terrorize. Her personality will be real, not something fans can stipulate and mold to their liking. She’s young and private, throwing her to the media would be a carnage. Leave Aelin out of this.” Gavriel tried to resonate with Erawan, voice low and calm as always.

Erawan sat on a table, a fake hurt expression overtaking his features as he sighed. “If only you had told me that before.”

The pit inside Rowan’s stomach grew.

“Before what.” Vaughan grunted.

“Before I contacted the girl.” Erawan smiled, as Rowan felt all the oxygen leave the room. He stared straight into Rowan’s eyes, a cruel smile overtaking his lips. “Would you like to see your childhood friend again, Whitethorn?”

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“Sharky” *Part 4*

Oh snap...ya’ll are gonna be begging for the next chapter. 

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@objection-argumentative

@word-scribbless

@aprildecker-blog​

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

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After work you headed straight home to get ready-- it was time for the works. Shaved EVERYWHERE, breaking out the expensive smelling shampoo and conditioner, wearing your extra special pheromone perfume, and your lucky little black dress. You stood in your full length mirror, admiring your work.

“Oh hell yes,” You thought to yourself. “Even I’d fuck me,”

You glanced at your clock by the bedside table, shit you were going to be late if you didn’t book it. You slipped on your lucky pumps and grabbed your purse while you called an Uber.

----

At the restaurant, you arrived to see that Rafael had already gotten there but was clearly having an issue getting a table.

“We should be on the list I called earlier, BARBA,” He enunciated at the poor hostess like she was a moron. 

“I’m sorry sir there’s not a--”

“Look under Y/L/N,” You sauntered up to her, completely ignoring Barba. 

“Oh! Yes, party of 2,” She smiled in relief. “Right this way!” She grabbed two menus and lead you to a table.

“I can’t believe you did that-- I said I’d make the reservation!” He hissed.

“No, you said you’d pay,” You reminded him as you both took seats at the table. “And the chef’s MY friend, why would he give a discount to a guy who tried to put him in prison?” 

“Wha---Seriously?” He stared at you. “What, so do you just hang around convicts?” 

“Hey he’s NOT a convict, thanks to me,” You smirked. “You’re so judgmental, Barba,” 

“Oh right I’M--” He was interrupted by a bubbly waitress approaching your table.

“Hello, welcome to Rigoletto’s! I’m Tracy, I’ll be your server tonight--”

“Yeah that’s nice honey, we’d like to start with the calamari, he’ll have the most expensive scotch you have, and I’ll take a bottle of wine,” You didn’t even let the poor girl finish her intro before rattling off your demands.

“....R-Red or white?” She asked meekly. 

“Literally the most expensive wine you have,” You grinned, eyeing Barba who’s eyes were wide as saucers. 

“Right...I’ll be back,” She nodded and was gone in a flash.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N? Really?” He asked, clearly annoyed.

“Aw, Barba if it gets too expensive for your civil servant salary, I’ll cover it,” You flashed him an evil smile.

“You just don’t know how to be on a date, do you?” He chuckled, sipping the complimentary water.

“Excuse me?” 

“When’s the last time you let a man treat you?” 

“I don’t let men treat me, then they expect something,” You rolled your eyes taking a sip of your own water.

“I don’t expect anything from any woman,” He said sincerely, and there it was again. You rubbed your chest to dissipate the pain.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in concern.

“Nothing, heartburn,” You nodded it off and drank more water. That had to be what it was, obviously. 

“For the heart you don’t have?” He smirked.

“Do you really want to do this again Barba?” You bit back.

“No, no you’re right,” He nodded apologetically. “I’m sorry,” 

“It’s fine...but I don’t believe you” You eyed him.

“You don’t believe I’m sorry?

“I don’t believe you don’t expect anything,” You smirked as Tracy brought your drinks and calamari. 

“So did you--?” Tracy started, but once again you cut her off. 

“We’ll need a minute, sweetie,” You shooed her away.

“Why don’t you believe me?” Barba asked as he sipped his scotch.

“Because you’re a man,” You stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“You clearly have been dating the wrong type of men,”

“Barba I told you I don’t date,” You poured yourself a glass from the wine bottle. “I ‘relieve stress’,” 

“So do you call other sharks to come and ‘service’ you?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Something like that,” You chuckled.

“That explains a lot,” He chuckled back.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re whole ‘deal’, it’s not even original,” He baited you.

“And what exactly is my ‘deal’, counselor?” You narrowed your eyes.

“The whole ‘frigid lawyer uses men for sex, never lets anyone close,’ blah blah blah,”

“FRIGID?” You raised your voice. “I’m sorry, did you just call me frigid? Gee Barba, what do you do on second dates, hit women with your car?” You scoffed as you downed your glass of wine and poured another one.

“I meant like...in your heart,”

“Oh right. Like I’m Elsa-- and what, is this the part of the movie where the white knight comes and thaws her frozen heart with the power of love?” You remembered that this was supposed to be you wooing Barba into a false sense of lust, but his ‘holier than thou’ shtick was infuriating. 

“I don’t think that’s what happens,”

“Oh like I’ve seen Frozen?” You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god...you have!” You snickered.

“Olivia has a kid,” He defended. 

“Oh right,” You shook your head with a sarcastic laugh. “I’m sure and Olivia cuddled up on the couch and watched it with her kid,” 

“You know for someone who seems so sure of herself, you sure seem threatened by Olivia,”

“THREATENED? By Olivia Benson? HA!” You let out one loud laugh. “Please, of what? Her inability to catch criminals? Her single mom life? Her constant habit of getting herself kidnapped? I mean, who does that?!”

“Hey, back off! That was traumatic, Y/N. For all of us,” He warned.

“Which time?” You asked snidely.. “That woman is like Princess Peach and you’re her Mario, constantly having to save her ass from a castle dungeon,”

“See this is exactly what I’m talking about,” Barba kept his cool this time.

“What?”

“You have this constant need to insult Liv, and it always comes back to the relationship she and I have,” He smiled in amusement.

“That is SO--”

“True? I know,” He leaned towards you. “Admit it Sharky, you have a thing for me,” 

“What?! A ‘thing’? What are we, in high school?” You scoffed, looking away. “I do not have a “Thing” for you, Barba. Do I want to fuck you? Absolutely. But I’m not doodling your name in my legal pads or something,” Barba choked on his drink at your last statement. Well, you took your own road there, but at least you got back to the matter at hand.

“Well that’s um,” He dried himself off. “That’s something,”

“Indeed,” You didn’t bat an eye as you poured yourself more wine.

“So is that why you’re trying to pay tonight? Because you ‘expect’ something?” He raised an eyebrow as he swirled his drink.

“Maybe. Is that a problem?” 

“That you want to use me as a piece of meat? Yeah, a little!” He scoffed with a smile. 

Fuck. You should’ve known better than to handle it like this. Barba wasn’t a shark, he wasn’t even a guppy. He was a sad little puppy, with all of his feelings and warm fuzzies bullshit. He probably didn’t even fuck women, he “makes love” to them. 

“Well, you know it could just be my way of showing affection, since I have a ‘thing’ for you,” You ran your fingers over the back of his hand and leaned in close, so that he could smell your pheromone fueled fragrance. You smiled victoriously as you saw it take effect over him-- it was almost like witchcraft.

“I mean, some girls like flowers..” He gulped, now eyeing your entire ensemble with lustful eyes.

“Flowers die, babe,” You winked. “But orgasm’s last forever,”

“Sure they do…” He rolled his eyes.

“Well, if you do it right, they feel like they last forever,” You swirled your wine as your heel travelled slowly up his pant leg. You leaned in closer, tugging on his tie this time as you whispered:

“And trust me, I do it right,” 

“Check please!” Barba frantically looked around for Tracy.

Well this was going to be fun….

[thattimdrakeguy]

Prompt: Bruce hugs Tim after Tim fought with Jack

Alright, fellas, gonna be honest. Got way into the whys and hows of the actual fight with Jack over the actual comforting hug with Bruce.

It’s in there, oh boy it’s there, but I’m curious to see if this thing even fits into a Tumblr post cause I don’t know what the limits are actually.

So uh,

Trigger Warnings for: Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Mentions of Drugs, Threats of the Police (is that a trigger warning? cause I feel like it should be nowadays), traumatization, and potentially more. Oh, and Alfred has a gun but idk if that falls into any triggers.

It’s not a “Jack is evil” fiction. I tried to stay away from that. But I didn’t try to not make him do something I did feel like he’d do at the same time. He never hits Tim, I’ll say that.

Hoping it’s not too bad. I feel it’s half decent. So ayy.

Wasn’t sure what to call it.

Maybe “Assumptions and Consequences” idk.

Also probably has lots of typos and grammar mistakes so sorry for that lol.

--

Tim Drake loved his dad. His biological mother had already died, and Jack was all Tim had. Dana Winters was only Jack’s girlfriend who was wanting to become Tim’s mother, but it hadn't happened quite yet. So Tim only had one parent left, and man, did it suck to have a parent sometimes when you’re Robin. All the lying from having to be Robin drove Tim mad some days. Plus neither of them were quite compatible with one another. Honestly how were they even related?

Jack thought Tim was a bad kid. Well, he didn’t, but look at the evidence. Tim kept sneaking out, leaving school early, getting into fights. That was a kid acting out if Jack ever knew, and Jack would blame himself, until he couldn’t be bothered about it. Was it Jack’s fault? Jack had a habit of forgetting it a day or two after an accident. So he never really did improve yet, despite saying he would.

But the thing was, Tim wasn’t a bad kid. He was a great kid; a really great kid. Tim Drake was Robin the Boy Wonder. Not that he was the most talented, or most efficient at being Robin, but Tim filled the job out well. Being a good kid as Robin, meant having to be a bad kid as Tim though. When Tim saw bad things happening, Tim had to disappear, for Robin to take a beating, and for Tim to keep the bruises.

One day it got too much for Jack to handle. Tim wasn’t even home yet, and Jack’s face was red. The man of the house kept pacing back and forth really considering what he had to do to contain Tim this time. In his sea of tension he started biting down on his fist to get out some of the anger but it wasn’t stopping. What would Tim’s mother think of Tim right now? All those years of Janet protecting Tim and coddling him, and all it took was--what a few years for Tim to turn into this? Janet would’ve been so disappointed in him.

Jack sat down in his recliner past midnight to wait for his son, and only seconds after the creaking sound of his chair did he hear the doorknob twisting on the opening door that must’ve been his son. Must’ve been a lazy day for Tim. Normally Tim would come in through the window of his bedroom. Jack was actually listening for a creak on the walls. After a quick sigh that came deep within the chest, Jack tossed down his remote swiftly onto the table making a loud smacking sound, as he stood up and turned around.

It was darkly lit like a shadowy alley way in the house. All Jack wanted to do was scare the crap out of Tim. He didn’t care how small Tim was, or how young he was, if Tim was so willing to let Jack be scared, Jack thought it only made sense for him to scare Tim right back to make it only fair. Jack grabbed a flashlight on the coffee table and shined it in the eyes of the small figure that stood right in his doorway. And he made sure to make himself seem as big as he possibly could. Standing up straight, broadening his shoulders, and holding his flashlight up higher.

He prepared his voice as something similar to Clint Eastwood. All he did all day was watch movies and take phone calls, and it really showed. “Tim, do you mind telling me, why in God’s green hell are you so damn f--” Jack quickly squinted his eyes. This wasn’t Tim he was looking at. It was Ariana Dzerchenko, and she was shaking in her boots, while Jack seemed disappointed it wasn’t his son. “What the hell are doing in my damn house?! You’re telling me at 3 A-#@!@#-M you don’t have anything better to do, then open my door when I never even gave you a key? My son isn’t even here. You trying to steal from me?” Jack went over to grab her arm after the brash accusation. “Get over here, I’m calling your Uncle.”

Ariana moved her arm away and backed outside, still shaking. She stared at Jack scared, and concerned. Ariana could tell he was disappointed for the wrong reasons

“Look, it’s either in my house and I call your uncle, and you take another foot and it’s the police.” grunted Jack. He stopped bothering doing the gravelly voice, but he was still oh-so-damned pissed. After Ariana didn’t bother making any move of any sorts, Jack relented and tried to talk a little more normal. “Do you know where Tim is?” he asked like it was only the afternoon and he happened to pass her in the park.

“N-no.” was the only word Ariana could manage to get passed her lips.

Jack’s brow lowered, and angled. “Then why are you here, Miss?” He took a step closer to Ariana. “And be honest.”

“T-Tim, uh, he, uh, he asked me to bring back this and put it on the kitchen counter.” the girl held up the house key. “And all he said to me was that he was going to be late. Really late, and that he didn’t want his dad to worry again.”

All Ariana could see of Jack was the way the shadows contoured around his aging face. Making him not even look human. It made him look paler, with black eyes and a still face that would barely move except when it got angrier.

“He tell you where he was?” Jack asked again as he turned his head to the left. His left ear was his good ear.

“No, sir. He just sounded...swollen-y.”

“Swollen?”

“Like he just got hit in the face again.”

“Did you hear anything else?”

“A really loud engine and some gunshots later when I called him. Look, Mister, I’m really worried about him too. I didn’t even want to come over here--but I was just--I was just hoping he’d be here again maybe. Do you know what he could be doing?”

“Hell no. At this point my son doesn’t tell me anything. All I can guess is that the son of mine, I spent all that money on, is dealing drugs, like my money isn’t good enough for him.”

“Drugs? Timmy? Drugs? I’m not his parent or anything, I’m just his friend, but Tim would never do anything like that. I think he’s in trouble in another way.”

“That’s what I thought, but somehow every week I’m getting a call from the school counselor telling me that my small-fry son is dealing with a bruise of some kind. They found him passed out in school one time, and I found dirt marks on the outside of his window. What kind of normal former-board-school-student do you hear about ending up like that?”

“But Tim went on for hours one time about how he hates drugs. He saw a kid with a bag of something and wouldn’t stop ranting for what felt like an hour. He--”

“Ari--”

“--wouldn’t ever--”

“You can go home, Ariana! And thank you for your time. I won’t tell the police, or your uncle. But just go home now.”

“I--” Ariana closed her eyes and realized she better just go. “Okay. Okay, I’ll...go. Just tell me Tim’s okay when he comes back. And--if it actually ends up being drugs...tell him--tell him we’re over.” she fled the scene not being able to handle it anymore.

Jack didn’t answer back, but he knew that she knew he wasn’t going to tell her anything that was going to happen. Once he heard a ruffling in the bush right where Tim’s room would be, he knew that the boy came home. Taking another chest deep breath he slowly walked to that wall where he saw Tim, and he used the flashlight on him for real this time.

That middle parted bowl cut, and baby-face were impossible to misidentify. His already large eyes grew larger and he looked like he saw an entire army of ghosts coming for his head. Sneaking into his own house was something he’s done dozens of times. Tim loved sneaky time, but this time he thought he really messed it up. His Robin career and life flashed right in front of his eyes.

Nothing in Jack’s mind resembled pleasant. Everything was fire and disappointment. Actually seeing his son in the act of sneaking around outside, when he should be in bed made everything he thought felt true as the solution to a math problem. Just like the outlaws in the westerns he watched, Jack narrowed his eyes as he paid attention to his target. He really needed to get outside himself fast.

Tim gasped, as his mind had no thoughts besides a realization that his dad finally caught him sneaking in. “Dad?!” he uttered before being grabbed by the collar of his sweater.

“So you finally decided that my house is better than whatever alley you've been laying in every night?” pushing himself closer to Tim, Jack made it so the only thing he could see of Tim was the panic in his baby blue eyes.

Meanwhile, all Tim could see was the anger in his dad’s face. “W-what are you talking about?!” Tim’s voice cracked. He knew his dad thought something was going on, but he never imagined it’d be this intense. He could break the grip on Jack at any time, but would Jack find that even more suspicious? Tim still had Dana thinking he was too small to play football. Could Jack believe Tim would be able to take down someone over a foot his own size?

“The drugs, Tim. The drugs.” The hoarseness to Jack’s voice was painful. If his hand was around Tim’s neck and not just his collar, he’d be strangling the kid. “I've been staying up each night for the past three days waiting for you to come home. To have a fatherly chat, but all I ever hear is you sneaking up the wall, and I’ve had enough of that. I try to be a father, and you just try to treat me like an obstacle. Is all I am to you, is in your way, Tim? I paid for your freaking ninja camp, and it ends within a week of you being there. If the people running the camp didn’t end up in jail, I’d have the mind to ask them what you exactly did there. A fake piercing, and fake stubble to look tougher? I’d be real curious to know where exactly a 14-year-old kid can buy a fake stubble.”

Tim was really doing his best to try and seem calm. If he didn’t everything would get much worse. Then it donned on him that he was treating his own dad like he would a master criminal in the middle of a breakdown. “Dad, I really know this looks bad. I really do. Trust me. But this isn’t at all like what it seems.”

“Answer me immediately: If I searched your room would I find drugs? Narcotics? Booze?”

Booze. Tim could smell the booze in his dad’s breath. If Tim showed up just a bit earlier it wouldn’t have been this bad. And you know Tim would beat himself up over that when he shouldn’t.

“No, you wouldn’t find anything of the sort. I need you to listen,  I’m going to need you to let go of me, and put down the light. It’s hurting me.” Another half second passed where Tim’s brain suddenly tried to process this. And like someone running away from the scene, it hurt too bad to stay on it. “I don’t deal drugs...I--I stop people from selling drugs!” Even in a moment like this, not having to lie for once felt like a weight off of Tim’s shoulders.

The man standing above Tim was about to blind him with that flashlight, but he eventually dropped Tim down onto the wet and muddy grass below them. Where he left him lay and to get mud all over his clothes without any sense of regret. Jack could only think of his late wife. Which seemed rare ever since he got to know Dana better. Strangely, this Janet that Jack was remembering seemed to be a lot more on his side than anyone that knew them back then would remember.

“Don’t talk down to me.” said Jack in an uncomfortably soft voice. “I let you stay in my house because I loved you enough to let you. Your room is my property, everything in there was bought with my money.” The pace he spoke was slow and methodical. His mind was quiet and released. “I am going to look in your room. You’re going to stay here, and when I come back to you. I’ll decide then what’s going to happen to you.”

Should Tim speak? Should he not? What was better right then? When he heard Jack talk about his room, he wasn’t worried about the punishment he’d have to deal with. All he was worried about was any proof about being Robin. That wasn’t just Tim’s own secret to keep. It was a secret he had to share, and was honored to share.

“I--I can’t let you do that, sir.” another voice crack from the kid.

“I bet I know why.” spoke Jack with full eye contact. To him he wasn’t lying to himself. It was a fact he had to find the evidence for. “Let it be known by the way, that I don’t hate you. I’m scared for you. But you also make it awfully hard to love you lately.”

That was one hit Tim couldn’t dodge.

Being 3 AM not too many people were able to witness any of this happening, except for one particular neighbor in Alfred Pennyworth. He was tidying up around the side windows on the second floor when he could see some sort of commotion at the Drake residence. Using binoculars like a bird watcher that exclusively looks for Robins, he saw Tim on the ground and Tim’s dad above him. That wasn’t going to fly past anyone in Stately Wayne Manor.

Very quickly he let Bruce know that Tim needed help and why. It’d only take a few minutes for him to return to his home, but it felt crucial. Tim needed a father figure that felt like he’d protect him, and not vilify him. In no world is Batman the best for the job of dad, but he gave it his best unlike Jack.

Outside it was wet from the harsh rain earlier in the evening. Most of the lights in the neighbors were out, signifying they had gone to sleep. A foot felt like a yard when everything was so quiet and dark.

So though the owner of the manor wouldn’t exactly appreciate it, Alfred brought a small fire-arm in the inner pocket of his suit jacket just in case things went worse. Very quickly he rushed his way over to Tim, making it just after Jack entered the Drake residence again. Tim still seemed in such a shock that he didn’t even try to get himself up.

In his head, Tim meant to go after his dad, but his mental legs just gave out on him. Leaving him to sit in the mud as he panics about what could happen next. He recounted where all of his Robin stuff was. During his messy messy thoughts he was almost certain that it was all on, wearing it under his clothes. Confidence was never Tim’s highest attribute though. Normally it was his perceptiveness, but it was failing him. He was lucky he could still recognize Alfred.

“Alfred?” said a confused Tim who was dazed more and more as the night went on.

“Young Master Timothy, are you alright?” greeted the Butler as he helped Tim up to see his feet. “I didn’t see everything, but I saw everything I needed to.” He quickly noticed a bruise on Tim’s cheek. “Young sir, did he do this to you, or was it another person?”

“Who’s ‘he’?” Tim’s eyes widened and looked past Alfred. “Dad?”

Alfred may have been an older man, but he wasn’t a man you should bother trying to stand taller than. The quiet, noble man turned around promptly and stood his ground and he saw fit. Only reaching his hand in, just in case, with no intent on striking first. When Alfred turned around to see the returning Jack, there wasn’t any cowardice within him. Former British Secret Service agent Alfred Pennyworth could get the drop on anyone if he tried hard enough, besides those with powers. Tim’s dad wasn’t someone with powers, so Alfred had his number ready just in case.

Jack on the other hand only had a vague sense of right and wrong keeping him from hurting anyone. Just sick of the lies, and obvious sneaking around. Whoever thought Jack was a good dad never really saw enough of him.

“Who--Are you--are you Wayne’s butler? Did he call you?” Jack  asked, pointing at Tim. “The kid’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about. He’s just being sensitive.”

“Jack Drake, I want to let you know that I am not a blind man, nor an easily fooled man. And that all I see when I look into the eye’s a man such as you, that all I see is an inner-pain that I’ve seen nearly everyday since my eyes could first see, and my mind could first retain thought. All you do is feel bitter, distract yourself, and in the moments where you can’t, you take it out on everyone else. If I look at the ground behind me, I can see a very brave boy have a fear so bad that he didn’t even want to get out of the mud. Either meaning he’s about to be killed, or he’s being traumatized, and I don’t see a gun in your hand. So sit down and get some rest, and think about it. While I’ll take young Timothy with me where he’ll be safe for the night, sir.”

“You know I’m not going to let you do that.” growled Jack.

“Then allow me to let you know that in my inner jacket pocket I have a firearm that you know I’ll use. Not to aim at your head, but below the waist where, if you don’t already know,  it won’t count for attempted murder.”

“I’ll call the cops on you then, you bum. You’ve freeloaded on Wayne before that man could walk. To this city you’re nobody but the guy that used to wipe Wayne’s ass.”

“I’m mighty gracious I don’t have any worry of convincing you of anything. The reputation I actually do have serves me enough just fine. As for...your reckless statement on the police, I should let you know we have cameras showing everything that happened. You wouldn’t be the one winning in court.” Alfred didn’t look pleased when he took another glance at Tim who was struggling to process any of this. Alfred was there in the same home Tim was in when he found out his mother died. This wasn’t something Alfred enjoyed doing. “You can come with me now, Timothy. We’ll figure this out, alright?”

Surprisingly, Jack let them walk away. Jack wasn’t an evil man. But not being evil doesn’t equal being good. Life was just complicated, and so was he. Did he regret his actions? Well, he isn’t a monster. Of course he did--Well, maybe he did. Who really freaking knew. But did he know why exactly he did if he had? Not quite. Was he going to get better? There was going to be a while before that’d happen.

Inside Tim’s own heart he felt dead. The remains of his biological family seemed to break down into crumbs of dust. Where was home anymore? Jack didn’t say he wasn’t allowed to come back home, but the message was made plenty clear that he couldn’t go back home easily. Actually, Tim didn't know if he wanted to go home after that. Even for such a great detective, Tim had no clue what his dad was going to be like after that.

Mud. Ew, the mud. It was all over Tim’s clothes and hands from his fall. It certainly wasn’t going to help Tim’s mood.

“Young Master Timothy, I think it’d be in your best interest to get a bath and relax. You can give me your clothes for me to wash, and I’m sure we have some of your clothes around here somewhere for you to lay around in.” he stated as he opened the door to Stately Wayne Manor for Tim.

Tim barely said any words, and said none of all during the walk to the Manor. “Oh, okay, Alfie.” Even his tone of voice seemed down on himself.

Seeing Tim so frozen stiff over it was breaking Alfred’s heart bit by bit. He’s seen Tim shake in fear, he’s seen him panic, but never frozen. This really was different. It was obvious it would be, but seeing it in person is always a different feeling. As they went up stairs you wouldn’t know Tim was an athlete. Alfred saw how natural Tim was at acrobatics in front of his own eyes, and now he saw the young boy struggling going up stairs.

Batman wasn’t able to make it till after Tim was in the bath. So he’d have to wait a bit to speak with him. He took off his cowl and how upset he was, was immediately evident. He had a stubble covered frown, and was breathing heavily, which was odd since he came home in the Batwing. As someone who stops domestic disturbances like this when he has to, he was fuming.

“We have to do something about Jack Drake, Alfred.” said Bruce drinking the tea Alfred gave them, as they waited for Tim in the kitchen.

“Something involving the courts may I assume?” assumed Alfred.

Bruce shook his head. “No. At least not yet, unfortunately.”

“Sir, but we have the evidence. There’s no doubt we’d win.”

“He’s still Tim’s father. That means something, and is a bond that’s hard to break, and shouldn’t be broken.”

“If I was only a second or two late, I would say it’s accurate to assume Mister Jack Drake was going to strike Timothy. He reeked of liquor and tossed him onto the ground.”

“But he didn’t hit him. Sounding harsh isn’t my imperative. But accusing a child of doing something they didn’t do, wouldn’t classify as anything that’d allow Tim to leave. And again, Tim and Jack are family. We shouldn’t break a family. That isn’t a good goal to set.”

“Are you really defending a man that didn’t bother to raise his own son, that he threatened with boarding school over something he should be more sympathetic with, and berates him when Tim actually acts his own age? People can change, Master Wayne, but when people are constantly given chances, those chances should run out eventually.”

“What would you suggest, Alfred? I’m doing what's best for Tim in my eyes. If we took him from his dad he’d hate us forever. Once Tim is able to function properly again, he’ll just look at it like another incident in his life. He’ll want to go back whether he wants to or not, because in his heart he loves his father.”

“Please forgive me for what I’m about to say, Master Wayne. But your over glorification of genetic parents because of the death of your own seems to have left you forgetting that whether biological or not, your family isn’t truly who’s related to you by blood.” Alfred sighed having to speak in such a rough way. “You’ve brought in Master Grayson as your ward, and Master Todd as your son. Family is who you bring in close and who you choose to stay with, and if you all care for one another. Sir, you know this best. And I’m not forgetful that they had no parents left when you brought them in, but don’t forget that just because they live right beside your home that damage isn’t being done to a child.”

The chair Bruce was sitting on squeaked as he moved back to stand up. He made his way up the stairs to where Tim was getting a bath. He took a deep breath, and took a moment to consider his actions, and knocked on the door.

“Tim--Tim are you decent? I’d like to speak to you about what happened. Now, it doesn’t have to be right this moment. Take any moment you need. But we need to know if--”

In a quick unhesitating moment, the door opened, and Tim never looked smaller to Bruce. The vulnerable look in his eye mixed with the oversized sweater he had on. The kid was still damp from a poor job drying himself, but it didn’t stop him from leaping at Bruce and putting his arms around him for a hug. Tim rested his head on Bruce’s chest as it was the highest he could reach, and he squeezed as hard as he could. A slight tear went down Tim’s face. Did he hear Alfred and Bruce? In the moment it didn’t matter, and Bruce hugged him back in a fatherly embrace. Neither of them knew what to do.

As the hug continued on longer Bruce lifted Tim into the air in a similar matter as Jack and Tim as Tim went to make sure they were okay during No Man’s Land. Would Tim remember that and choose to stay with Jack? Did Tim still believe Jack would get better? Or would Bruce’s rare act of physical affection convince Tim to tell everything he knew to make a case to stay with Bruce? Did it even matter yet?

It felt like a part of Tim’s life died, but as an era of your life is killed, another is born. Something new you have to make the best out of. Maybe the era will stay and it’ll get better, or maybe not. The future was a mystery, and could be scary. If it wasn’t then people wouldn’t be pretending to be fortune tellers. Sometimes though, it’s best just to remember and focus on the present.

“I love you, R--um, Tim. I hope you know this. I care about you, and want to protect you for as long as I can, and if needed I’m absolutely willing to--” Bruce was cut off by a still tearful Tim.

“I love you too, Bruce.”