#girl there is something very wrong with you (judgmental but fascinated)

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

I do feel hate (i don't feel sorry)

[per1w1nkl3]

theres also the scene at the beginning of the episode. kirk hATES the hippies he cannot stand them. he goes "one of *those* was in the academy??" but then he looks at checov and he can see there's somethings wrong and his stance visibly relaxes and let's checov go. he thinks the hippies are beneath him, he's surprised when spocks mentions they are actually well educated- I think what he really cannot stand is disorganization? someone who may or may not obey orders? (which would explain why hes so uncomfortable around kids) after all its understandable he's the captain of the enterprise all of his life is on the ship, he vowed his life to her.

its interesting tho, a 'Herbert's as spock explains was a "minor official notorious for his limited and rigid patterns of thought" which ofc kirk isn't a minor official nor is he dumb but he is very rigid in his belief. he's fair in his judgment, he's understanding, he's kind but only to idk his crew, who behave in a decent manner or to hot girl #39 or smth because they fall into a pattern he knows. you know who seems to be more open minded??? the vulcan. the stiff emotionless vulcan, who says says he doesn't feel sympathy for them but rather fascination because just like him the hippies are considered somewhat alien in their planets. he doesn't seen to be against them for their beliefs he's just against the cult anti vaxxer thing. and regardless he wants to keep his promise of helping them find their eden

[eepstercore]

Jori Fanfiction - part 1

‘Tori’s journal’

Plot: Tori has a Journal where she writes about Jade, but what will happened when Jade finds out?

Genre: frenemies to lovers

As her pen scratches against the paper of her notebook as she writes, Tori can’t help but feel slightly guilty. This is wrong.

Because instead of paying attention as Sikowitz tells the class another one of his questionable stories, which leaves them all feeling a bit more judgmental towards their teacher, she’s instead writing about someone again.

The girl with black hair and green streaks which compliment her outfit nicely, the one girl who hates Tori with no reason whatsoever. Jade.

Tori can’t help but be fascinated by Jade, because she’s the one person she doesn’t understand, out of all of her friends Jade is the only one who hasn’t opened up to her, Andre and Tori have grown closer and closer since they starting working on more music together, he’s probably one of her closest friends now, Cat tells her about everything happening in her life, maybe even a bit too much when she overshares about her brother, Beck and Tori might not be very close because of his jealous girlfriend, but he was there for her when she got kicked out of the platinum music awards and she’s always the first person he turns to when him and Jade have another fight for advice and maybe Tori and Robbie aren’t great friends, but she was there for him when she tried to help him become the ‘hambone king’ again.

Tori felt like she could understand and relate to all of her friends, except Jade.

Jade was the one person she couldn’t read.

No matter how much effort she made to reach out to Jade, or be friendly to her, or bond with her she never seemed to get anywhere, instead she was always met with the same judgmental look with a stare that seemed to go straight through her.

Tori thought that after their ‘date’ that they were forced to go on for Sikowitz’s class things between the both of them might be getting better.

But she was wrong, and was met with the same cold treatment she was all too familiar with once they both returned to school.

So that brings Tori to now, journaling about the one girl who wants nothing to do with her, just as she has done for the last 4 months and the more she writes she feels guilty, like she’s doing something wrong or risky and if anyone finds out, or god forbid if Jade finds out, everything will come tumbling down…

Tori’s POV

As I look down at my page of writing all I can feel is..guilt.

Or some kind of feeling similar to that

Things were bad enough when I started writing about Jade for the first time, I just did it to get her out my head, but now

Well now I have a journal that is basically dedicated to her

I told myself weeks ago that I was going to stop writing about Jade, because to an outsider it must seem really creepy

I’m not writing about her in an obsessive way!

or are you?

No I’m not!

I just

I’m just interested in Jade, or maybe fascinated by her is a better word to use

And then the more I think about her, the more I write and the more I write I start to feel-

Suddenly I snap out of my thoughts

“You see something you like Vega?”

And just now I realise I’m staring at Jade

Oh my god I’m staring at Jade!

I can feel a few snickers around me, the loudest one coming from Jade,

She has her arm around Beck and she’s pressed both their chairs close together to lean against him

Beck gives me a confused look, it’s almost as if he somehow knows what I was writing and is silently judging me

I look past him and at Andre who just gives me a sympathetic smile

But I can still feel everyone else’s eyes on me

“Can we just move on already!?” I snap, a bit too loudly, this is followed by a scoff from Jade

I put my head down and pretend like I’m all of a sudden invested in Sikowitz’s teaching and after a while most of the stares seem to subside

The only one who doesn’t quit staring is Jade and out of the corner of my eye I can see a grin on her face like some sort of Cheshire Cat, and as she can tell how uncomfortable I am her smile only grows

I swear she is messing with me on purpose!

Why was I staring at Jade?

I mean it’s probably just because I was thinking about her, maybe my eyes just drifted towards her or something

Yeah that makes sense

I think

The rest of class passes by, Sikowitz tells another one of his stories and then gets a few of the shruggers in the back to perform an acting exercise

Jade’s eyes remain on me until the bell rings.

I look down at my bag on the floor but I remain sitting in my chair as people around me start to get up and move on their way to lunch

I’m too in my thoughts to realise it’s lunch or that I should be moving, it’s as if my brain is on autopilot, so much so that I don’t even notice a certain someone creeping up behind me

“VEGA!”

I practically jump out of my chair,

I turn my head around only to see Jade, leaning on the back of my chair with that same grin on her face

The kind of grin she only gives me, the ‘I enjoy seeing you miserable’ kind of grin

“What the hell?”

I manage to spit out looking at her wildly, because seriously what the hell?

But she merely rolls her eyes and gestures to Sikowitz who is standing in front of us as we’re the only ones left in the classroom

It’s just then that I realise he asked us both to stay behind after class, only I was way too preoccupied with my thoughts to process anything he said

talk about self absorbed

I tilt my head up and look at Sikowitz as Jade sits herself down in the chair beside me and we both wait for him to say something

After a moment of silence I loose my patience,

“Well?” I snap

There is seriously something wrong with me, snapping at someone twice in one day? This really isn’t like me

After an annoyingly long coconut slurp he finally speaks,

“Oh right”

“You kids need to stop with the PDA in my class”

“WHAT”

“What!?”

We both erupt, I think Sikowitz is seriously loosing it

All those coconuts are getting to his head

“You heard me.”

“The eye contact, the tension, whatever you two girls have going on between the two of you, you need to sort it out”

Both of us groan loudly, but once Sikowitz is done talking we throw our bags over our shoulders and leave

Worst day ever so far, and I can already feel it getting worse…

[ aaaaaaa, this is the first fanfic Ive ever written

I’m gonna continue writing it so expect more parts, also sorry if it’s kinda of slow it is gonna be a Jori fanfic it just needs build up]

[call-sign-shark]

Hi there,

A friend of mine was watching Peaky with me the other day and we ended up having a convo about Arthur. We were just wondering what the Arthur lovers liked the most about him?

I mean I sort of get the appeal of him being fucked in the head and sorta unhinged. But what’s the best thing about him?

I really hope this doesn’t come of as judgmental! We were just genuinely curious since we’re totally Tommy girlies. 😅

Hi Tommy's girl anon! Thank you so much for your wonderful question. Don't worry, this is not judgemental at all, quite the contrary this is always such an interesting topic to discuss! 😊

First of all, I'll try to remain concise because I can write for hours about my love for Arthur, but my goal isn't to bore the death of you.

Obviously, the unhinged and mentally fucked up aspect of the character is what attracted me at first. It's my favorite character trope of all time, and all my favorite fictional characters have it -- and when I say favorite fictional characters I mean characters I hold very dear to my heart. I can mention Vaas Montenegro from Far Cry 3 and Jinx from League of Legends / Arcane. This is also a trope you can find in most of my OCs except Heaven, which has a colder and maybe even creepier form of "madness".

Apart from the unhinged persona, I can also talk about his physical appearance. Of course, Tommy is hot but... I don't know, there's something about Arthur's weird style, body language, and lanky body type that feeds his batshit crazy and unpredictable nature. To conclude that very quick and superficial part of physical appearance, I also think that Paul Anderson's eyes and facial features are jaw-dropping. Next time you watch Peaky Blinders try to pay attention to Arthur's eyes and gaze. I won't be able to explain it properly but he has a piercing and intense stare with adorable bambi lashes.

Now, if I had to choose the best thing about him I'd go for his complexity. SK's poor character management aside, Arthur is the most complex character in the show in my opinion. And his complexity did surprise me. I really thought his character would remain the typical unhinged and problematic brother throughout the story but the more the plot unfolds, the more I've discovered a very third-dimensional and emotional character. Arthur is a character full of colors and paradoxes. On the one hand, he is that ultraviolent man with psychotic outbursts and addiction problems, and on the other hand he is that loving (and yandere) husband, loyal brother, and goofy man. Like, for real, the drastic change in him when Linda appeared blew my mind in the most positive way possible. Arthur is the type of character that you know is fucked up and who does cruel/unforgivable things but you can't hate him. You can't help feeling bad for him because, somehow, he's maybe the sweetest of all the Shelby clan. The fact that Arthur is always walking on a thin line between pure psychotic monster and touching / redemption-seeking man is certainly the best thing in his tragic character. It is also best described by Polly's quote " Watch Arthur, because he's as likely to hurt himself as anyone else."  He tries to be good, he really tries but he's fighting with the wrong weapons and always ends up sinking again. That's why I appreciated SK freeing him from his addictions and making him feel better at the end of S6 after the shitty treatment of the character throughout that final season.

I would have loved to go on but I think this post is already long enough. To summarize, Arthur is a complex character made of paradoxes and this bipolarity between the violent/evil man and the loving/goofy one is fascinating. Thanks for your wonderful question and thank you for choosing me! 🖤

[youdcallmeyourbunny]

I knew someone like this. everyone loved her. she was pretty in a natural makeup way. she was loving and kind to everyone but if you disrespected her or the people she cared about she was the meanest bitch ever. she was charming and knew how to sweet talk people but if you rubbed her the wrong way she did not hesitate to call you out on it. her personality was outgoing, adventurous, wild, and free. she was a party girl. the stories she told me were some of the craziest I had ever heard because she did whatever she wanted to do in order to have a good time. she was carefree and floated through life but she was smart. she gave good advice and told me some of the most hopeful things ive ever heard. she was confident because she knew she was better than those basic girls you see in public, but she wasn't cocky or annoying. people could complain that she talked too much because she was very chatty but they followed it up with remarks about how kind and easy to talk to she was. and she was gorgeous in that way where she didn't try. she looked her best in leggings and a wife b3ater tank. she looked best in an oversized polo and skinny jeans. she looked best in her boyfriends zip up and a pair of second hand jeans. she's didn't have money to go get her nails or lashes or hair done as often as the other girls did but she outshined them in every way. she was independent and strong. been through some shit. she didn't need people to help her, she did everything herself. she kept her loved ones around because she loved them not because they did anything for her. she always fascinated me. when she walked she walked in such a way that made you feel like you were a healthy mix of intimidated and entranced by her. like you could tell her your deepest darkest secrets and be vulnerable with her but you also listened to every thing she said. and thats exactly how it was. she would show you how to do something and explain it in a way that felt like she was guiding you not barking orders, but when you were just having a conversation you could talk to her about anything and she was a best mix of non-judgmental, funny, relatable, and kind. I still never figured out if I wanted to be her or if I wanted to be her little sister that she gave that sort of advice that adults won't tell you, but its the best advice a young teen could ask for. she was like the it girl of my life when I knew her. sadly we don't keep in contact anymore because we were co-workers and she had to quit.

Anis Mojgani, In the Pockets of Small Gods

[talk-it-out-outsiders-smp]

What happens w Oeca

Oeca! Gone too soon in Canon I miss this knife wielding child. So with full transparency I didn't watch too many of Oeca streams and I wish I had because his lore seems fascinating but I think I understand his whole deal. He is a kid who killed his family and a girl he loved and he has an evil half of him that took over to commit the crimes. 

Honestly he fits in perfectly in this messy family,  very rude and a little psychotic, what else could you need in an annoying baby brother. Plus Krow gets to be a murder gremlin so Oeca does too. Everyone knew something was up with Oeca as his red eye gets worse and worse but he refuses to talk to any of them about it, full on lashing out sometimes when they ask. His obsession with getting rid of Gracie is as strong as ever though so he still follows her into the maze with intentions of killing her and Ori follows behind them. They fight as usual but when Oeca tries to kill himself Ori lunges forward and grabs the knife by the blade from Oeca. Gracie snaps out of it and rushes forward to help restrain the boy and they manage to get him down just in time for Apo to come running in with Mohwee having seen that Ori flipped all three of their levers down on the way in. This is the worst Evil!Oeca moment they have, it takes ages to coax the normal Oeca back out, they sit with him for hours at a time trying remind him of who they are and that they want him back. Eventually he does wake up as himself and he feels shaky about the whole thing. 

As with all the oddities of the Outsiders they get more used to the subtle changes in Oeca that lead into Evil!Oeca and what they can do to help keep him grounded. Soup tries to help, I'm undecided on if she ever truly gets rid of this other half of his but she does make potions that help quell it, that he takes regularly. There are still scares and close calls but everyone is quick to grab him if he gets violent and though many Outsiders get some cuts and scrapes only Gracie ends up with a scar when he attacks her with her back turned. He becomes a mapper and goes on plenty of Maze runs, though he in particular likes the challenge of mapping the dark maze. He firmly maintains that he does not in fact like any of them and he's only keeping them alive so he can escape but no one believes him. He also picks up a habit of forcing people to carry him on the way back through the maze since he's always "too tired". 

 Oeca remains his slightly unhinged self and doesn't change all that much when they leave the Maze and head back into the world. After all his only mentors are other murders, criminals, and rebels at the heart. Plus he's only so dangerous in a group of people who spend hours training to fight and do manual labor on the daily to survive. What's a few light stabs between friends anyway. He's definitely one of the most excited by the prospect of taking on Starr and even offers to fully sneak onto the show and pretend to be a contestant but he's denied, for now at least. He spends a lot of his time with all of his friends, in fact he's almost never alone because he's afraid of slipping too far into his other half if no one is there to help him. He builds himself a tree house that has zip lines connected to the other ones and he and Krow begin a game of knife throwing throughout the clearing that ends up with both of them being told off all the time. Huh I just realized how much the short period of time between leaving the Maze and going back in is the only time the Outsiders get to be kids and have some meaningless, if violent fun. So what happens with Oeca is, he gets to be a kid and be himself with no judgment from the others for whatever is wrong with him.  He gets to be happy, no matter how unconventional the place he finds that happiness is.

[whereisten]

I Think We’re Alone Now

A Jaemin fic that’s part of our Halloween Series! 

Summary: Your Spring Break plans change at the last minute when the campus heartthrob asks you to join him and the popular kids to your nemesis’ cabin. 

Pairing: college student! Jaemin x female reader 

Genre: romance, angst, mystery, suspense, horror, crime

Word Count: 7.4k 

Warnings: Bullying, body image mention, gore, violence, death

(A/N): SHOUTOUT TO MY GIRL KRYS FOR THIS DELICIOUS MOODBOARD. SHE IS AN AMAZING ARTISTE. I AM IN AWE. I hope my story does this moodboard justice and I hope you guys enjoy! Thank you for the support! 

___

Spring Break was imminent for the kids of Guang University. It was your freshman year and your friends all had different plans. You planned to stay home and get a head start on your homework and catch up on all of your favorite Korean dramas.

You headed out of the school with Haechan, your best friend. He had plans to go visit his family in South Korea for a couple of days. You were bummed that your closest friend wouldn’t be in town for the break.

“You sure you don’t want to come to Seoul with me? We might bump into Ji Chang Wook. You never know.” Ji Chang Wook was your celebrity crush.

You balanced your giant biology textbook while you tried to find your phone. “That’s tempting but I have a big exam right after break and I’ve been behind for weeks...So now I have to cram.”

Haechan sighed. “Y/n, you need to give yourself some down time.”

You frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Haechan sighed. “You haven’t come out to any parties in the past two months.”

You sighed. “Well...”

Haechan whined. “You’re supposed to be my party buddy...”

“Well, party buddy, then explain Daniela, Hazel, and Ally,” you said, calling out your best friend for not being so lonely at these parties after all.

“I-“ Haechan started.

Before Haechan could explain, a group of girls you’d tried so hard to avoid walked by and “accidentally” bumped into you, making you drop your book to the ground.

The girl who bumped into you turned and laughed. “I’m SO sorry. Maybe if you didn’t take up so much space, it wouldn’t have happened.”

The other girls laughed as they began to saunter off.

You groaned. You thought bullies retired once they graduated from high school when reality finally gave them a slap to the face.

Well, unfortunately for you, the mean girls from your old high school were smart enough to get into your dream school so you now occasionally saw them. And worse, shared a biology lab with them. The head of the pack, Heather, always had it out for you for always beating her for the best grade in class. You’d get a 94 and she’d get a 93. You were just happy to get an A and she was furious she wasn’t number 1. You guessed it had to do with her superiority complex and how she had to please her wealthy parents.

Haechan yelled, “Heather, what the hell-“

Heather started, “What? It’s a simple observation.”

Well, not everyone could be a size 0 like Heather. You knew that you had a healthy body shape. Sure, you know you could use improvements but you were human. No one was perfect. Nothing Heather could say could make you think she was right. She was just a hater.

“Have a nice break, Heather. Maybe your dad will finally come home,” you said as you grabbed Haechan’s hand and walked off.

“Hey! y/n, get back here!” Heather demanded. Her dad and her mom were separated for a while now and he was never home to spend time with his precious daughter.

Heather’s bark had always been bigger than her bite. So you didn’t let her words get to you. Not anymore.

___

Haechan went home while you waited to call an Uber to take you to the record store across town.  You may as well go out and do one fun thing before you hunkered down at home for the break.

That was when you heard someone sobbing hard. And you couldn’t help but find the source.

The boy sat down on a bench by the bus stop. It was the campus heartthrob, Na Jaemin. You’d shared a couple of lectures with him this year. He was very sweet, always had something to compliment you on. Your hair, your lipstick, your outfit.

Well, then he would proceed to ask for help with assignments but you appreciated getting paid with flattery.

You frowned. “A-are you okay?” You started. “Do you need help?”

Jaemin looked up as tears ran down his beautifully sculpted face. His eyes widened at the sight of you. He wiped his tears away with his jacket sleeve. He shook his head. “Y/n! Hey, I’m…okay…I just-“

You sat down beside him and pulled an unopened bottle of water out of your backpack. You handed it to him. “Here.”

He looked down at it and asked, “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” he said, managing a half-smile.

He drank from it as you waited.

He exhaled in satisfaction. “Thank you, y/n. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like this. School and work have been so stressful…I just needed to let it all out.”

You hesitated before you put a hand on his back. You moved it gently against his muscular upper back. “I’m sorry…Do you…wanna talk about it?”

Jaemin froze and debated telling you. “I got fired from my job…” He admitted.

You removed your hand from his back. “Jaemin, that’s terrible…I’m so sorry…What happened?”

He shook his head. “The boss was kinda harsh. I couldn’t take it. I slipped up once and I got the ax.”

You tried to meet his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jaemin.”

Jaemin managed a smile for you. “Thank you, y/n. You’re always sweet. Always good. I’m glad you’re here with me.” He placed a hand over yours.

This may or may not have made you want to scream with excitement. But your better judgment told you to contain yourself because Jaemin was upset.

Your little moment was interrupted by Heather and her cohorts.

Heather stood in front of Jaemin, noticing his red eyes “Oh, Nana, what’s wrong?”

Jaemin didn’t look all that thrilled to see Heather either. “It’s nothing…Don’t worry about it.”

“Because if y/n is bothering you, she should leave. Isn’t that right, y/n?” Heather turned to you with her hands on her hips.

You were about to snap when Jaemin beat you to it. “Actually, Heather, she’s not. So what can I do for you so you can leave faster?”

Heather looked at her group in shock. Her minions all let out audible gasps and whispers. “Jaemin...”

“I’m waiting,” Jaemin said, a new commanding tone overtaking him.

“We wanted to know if you’re coming to my cabin this weekend.” She tried to come off flirtatious but after his rebuff, she was confused.

“Maybe,” Jaemin replied, “If y/n comes.”

“What?” You and Heather exclaimed.

“I’ll go if y/n goes,” Jaemin said resolutely.

You started, “Jaemin, I-”

Jaemin interrupted. “I need this, y/n. A time to get away. And if you come, I would love it…” He said softly, almost intimately…Like no one else was around.

You’d had a crush on Jaemin since the first day of Intro to Theater. Jaemin was a tremendous actor. He was an excellent Demetrius to your Helena in your act for A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Jaemin was always so nice. You thought the most he would do for you is give you a dollar for the vending machine. And that would’ve made your heart soar to the moon.

It was odd that you were considering going somewhere to hang out with Heather and her friends...But you did want to get to know Jaemin more.

What about your homework?

Well, it could wait.

And what about Heather?

Well, pissing off Heather was a hobby of yours.

One of Heather’s friends coughed. And Heather rolled her eyes. “Fine. Meet at my house at 7 AM tomorrow.”

___

Your older sister Sophie drove you to Heather’s. “Why are you going to Lucifer's spawn’s cabin?”

You sighed. “Because a cute boy asked me to.”

Sophie put the car in park right in front of Heather’s mansion. She looked at you in disbelief and fascination. “A boy?”

You said, “He wanted me to come.”

Sophie laughed. “Well, y/n, he must be very cute if you’re willing to hang out with Her Royal Darkness.”

“Like her ego, I’m sure the cabin is big enough so I don’t have to see her.”

You were both so distracted that you didn’t notice Jaemin knock on your passenger side window. He smiled brightly. Wow, he looked incredible for someone who woke up and texted you good morning at 5:30 AM.

“Wow,” your sister said, in shock from Jaemin’s beauty. She rolled down your window.

“Ready to go, y/n?” Jaemin asked. You saw the expectant look in his eyes. He was radiant and much more relaxed. You were so happy to see him. He seemed to feel a lot better.

“Jaemin, this is my older sister, Sophie,” you said, “Sophie, this is my friend Jaemin.”

They shook hands and Sophie muttered, “You better tell me everything when you get back. And that I am the maid of honor at your wedding.”

“Bye, Sophie! We’ll go on our run together when I come back on Sunday, okay?” You said louder to deflect from what Jaemin could’ve overheard. You and Sophie ran together every weekend for stress relief and bonding time. You got out of the car and hoped Jaemin hadn’t heard anything.

Jaemin offered to give you a ride on his Jeep Explorer to Heather’s cabin, much to Heather’s disappointment. Heather’s friends were riding with her.

You and Jaemin had fun on the road for two hours, just the two of you. You enjoyed some old school Backstreet Boys, *NSYNC, and Britney Spears. You snagged the CDs from your sister’s collection.

“Every little thing I do never seems enough for you!” You and Jaemin sang.

You too had gotten off the route to get snacks at a convenience store and because Jaemin needed to fill up his tank. He insisted you put your wallet away. He bought all of your favorite junk food essentials: M&Ms, Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, Coke, Orange Fanta. This boy knew his way into your heart.

“So, y/n, what’s your end goal in life?” He asked as he continued the route to Heather’s cabin. “You strike me as an aspiring pediatrician...Saving the children!”

You laughed at his enthusiasm. “I’d like to be a physical therapist. My parents got into a car accident when I was nine...My mom was fine but my dad broke his right leg and right arm. He needed to get physical therapy in order to walk properly again...I went with him to almost all of his appointments. I have a lot of respect for physical therapists after how much they helped him…”

“I’m glad your dad recovered,” Jaemin said as he gave you a quick smile before gluing his eyes back onto the road.

“Me, too...But...my end goal in life? Honestly, I just want my own space to dance around in...With no shame.”

Jaemin chuckled. “No shame, huh? Does that mean you’re a terrible dancer?”

You smacked him. “No. Well, I’m sure there are worse dancers.”

He laughed harder. “Okay...I believe you.”

You laughed. “What about you, Jaemin? What’s your end goal?”

He sighed. “Start up my own content-creating company...I’m into traveling and uncovering hidden gems. Be the next big thing after Buzzfeed Unsolved.”

“Those are some pretty big shoes to fill…” You started.

Jaemin sounded unsure. “Yeah…”

You smiled, “I know you can do it. You’ve got a subscriber in me.”

Jaemin faked a tear. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

You both laughed again as you reached for the M&Ms and your hands touched. You quickly pulled away, embarrassed. But Jaemin smiled to himself.

Jaemin said, “But as cheesy as it sounds...I want to get married, get a big house, and fill it with twelve children.”

You coughed. “Twelve? Are you and your future wife thinking of splitting the pregnancies up?”

Jaemin laughed. “Okay, maybe not twelve...But a family of my own is my dream. My parents split up when I was five so...I’ve split my time between two homes and it was an awkward feeling, especially after both of my parents remarried.”

“Oh…” You said. You couldn’t exactly sympathize with him because your parents were happily married so you didn’t want to say anything that could rub him the wrong way. That was the last thing you wanted.

“I want to be with that one person...For the rest of my life...When I meet her, I’ll know.” He said, giving you a meaningful look.

You had no idea how to process that so you took a sip of your blue raspberry ICEE and held it in the air, awkwardly. “Here’s to you finding your soulmate someday.”

He chuckled. “Thank you.”

___

You arrived at Heather’s summer home...Well, she called it a cabin. But it was actually a mansion by the beach. It was gorgeous. Something straight out of a movie. It looked like it could be its own hotel resort. You realized that there was a good chance you’d have your own room.

“This house is huge!” You exclaimed.

Jaemin looked along with you as he handed you your bag. “What a shame. I was hoping we would room together.” He said softly into your ear.

You turned to him in shock and he shot you his infamous flirty grin. This boy had you thinking he liked you and he’d better stop before you tried to kiss him.

Heather handed everyone keys to their bedrooms. “If any of you lose this copy, I can’t help you.” She made sure to say that as she handed you your keys.

You went up the stairs of the beach house and chose the last room on the left. You were unlocking the door to your room when someone from behind you tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, you’re y/n, right?” You recognized Yangyang from your mandatory PE class. You both took Intermediate Swimming, a class where as long as you flailed in the water and passed the easy quizzes, you’d be guaranteed an A.

You nodded. “And you’re…”

He said, “I’m Yangyang. It’s so nice to see you here!”

“You, too,” you said, averting your eyes once again. Yangyang was pretty attractive and you hoped he didn’t remember you and your Sailor Moon one piece. You always tried to be one of the first in the water and the last to leave when it came to your swimming class.

Even though Heather’s comments were nothing to you, it didn’t mean you were completely immune to the hurt it caused.

“You were in Coach Emerson’s swim class, right? You had the iconic Sailor Moon swimsuit.”

And there went the rest of your hopes and dreams. “Y-yeah…”

He laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed. I had Dragon Ball Z swim trunks.”

“Really?” You said.

Yangyang pretended to be hurt and winced. “I thought you’d be the one to notice.”

“Well...I’m not exactly looking at anyone’s...body…” You said, cringing at your words.

He laughed. “Fair point. I just liked the pattern. Your favorite character is Sailor Mars, right?”

You nodded, “Hell yeah. She’s the best.”

“I’m more of a Sailor Venus guy, myself,” he replied.

“Good taste. But all of the Sailor Scouts are queens,” you started.

“No question,” Yangyang said. “Hey, do you-” His phone started to ring. “Sorry, y/n...I gotta take this.”

You waved goodbye to him and entered your spacious bedroom. As much as Heather despised you and you despised her, her family had excellent taste in real estate. The queen-sized bed was plush like a cloud straight from heaven. You pulled the window up to feel the ocean breeze. It was paradise.

You heard a knock at your door an hour later. It was Jaemin.

“Wanna go for a walk?” He asked.

“Sure!” You said, having already changed into a sundress.

Jaemin thought you looked stunning. Well, you always did. He was so happy to be here with you. Otherwise, he may not have gone on this trip.

Jaemin led you to the beach where you let your toes touch the water. He teased you by splashing you. And you splashed him back until you both were soaked.

You both laughed so hard that you toppled over each other, you on top of Jaemin. You both stared at each other for a long time. Jaemin closed his eyes, his long eyelashes caressing his cheeks. He waited for you to kiss him.

You moved closer and your lips met his. His lips tasted salty thanks to you and your merciless splashing. But the kiss was everything. It was fireworks at the end of a perfect night. It was hot chocolate on a warm winter night. It was like an angel held you and you snuggled against his wings. The kiss was perfect.

You two let go and Jaemin bit his lip. “So.”

You stood there, frozen. “So…”

“So...we did that.”

You nodded. “Indeed we did.”

“Thoughts?” He looked at you with his big brown eyes.

You cleared your throat. “Well...I certainly wouldn’t mind doing that again.”

Jaemin’s big gorgeous goofy smile came back full force at hearing you. He cupped your face in his hands and was about to kiss you again.

“Guys!” Naeun called out to you. “Have you seen Yangyang?”

You and Jaemin pulled yourselves apart. You answered, “Last time I saw him was when he went to his room. Is everything okay?”

“He wasn’t answering his phone...And I found it in his room.” She held up his phone that had a Dragon Ball Z pop socket on the back of it.

You frowned. “That’s weird.”

Jaemin offered. “Maybe he went for a walk. Got some fresh air?”

“Maybe…” Naeun thought and you nodded. “If you see him, tell him I’m looking for him and that I’m pissed.”

“Okay,” you said.

Naeun stomped away, frustrated.

“Now where were-” you started.

Jaemin already pulled you in for another kiss. He pinned you down against the shoreline and trailed your neck with his kisses.

You breathed heavily as you held him tightly.

He looked at you, as if asking you something.

You gave him a look. “What’s up?”

“Do you want to…” His eyes moved down to his pelvic region where his member was protruding through the fabric of his trunks.

Your eyes widened at how big he was. And your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you realized what he was asking. “Oh…”

Jaemin waited for you patiently.

Things were moving too fast. You were more than happy to kiss Jaemin all night but you really weren’t ready to have sex. Not tonight, anyway.

You already knew the answer. “I’m sorry Jaemin. I do like you but...I’m...not ready. I should go…” You got up but Jaemin stopped you. It was like a romantic Korean drama scene, except instead of your wrist ...He grabbed your ankle.

“It’s okay...You don’t have to go. Please don’t go…” He begged as he made a puppy dog pout.

You laughed, relieved. “Okay okay...You can stop making that face.”

Jaemin pouted his lips even more. “What face?”

You rolled your eyes and splashed him. You and Jaemin spent a couple of hours on the beach, kissing and talking. You wrapped up and he walked you to your bedroom.

___

You woke up early the next morning to hear screaming and crying. You got out of bed and ran out the door.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, finding Naeun devastated on the floor. Heather sat down with her on the ground and consoled her.

“Yangyang…” She said between sobs. “He’s gone!”

Renjun looked grave as he handed you his phone. “We all got these messages. Did you, y/n?”

You looked at what was on Renjun’s phone screen and there was a video of Yangyang, bound up and gagged. Tears streamed down his eyes. He mumbled loudly for help.

Tears fell out of your eyes. “What the hell is this?”

You couldn’t believe it. You’d just had a whole conversation with him yesterday. He was friendly and funny…

And now he was like this.

Jaemin replied, “Someone’s idea of a sick joke...I don’t recommend looking at the rest of the story, y/n…”

You ignored him and kept watching. The next video pointed to a wall and you could hear Yangyang clearly now...He was yelling. “No! Who are you? Why are you doing this? Stop! Nooooooo!” The video cut off after that. The last picture was of Yangyang with his throat slit with text that read: “Wonder who will be next...It’s anyone’s guess, really. 🧐 #springbreak2020”

You ran into the bathroom and threw up. The rest of the group followed you into the bathroom. “Well, y/n?” Tzuyu started.

“Well, what?” You asked.

“Show us your phone,” Tzuyu demanded.

“Why?” You asked.

Jaemin intervened, “Why are you guys ganging up on her?”

“We’ve checked everyone’s phones...Now we want to see y/n’s,” Tzuyu said, a vindictive look in her eyes.

“Fine,” you said. You pulled it out of your pocket and you were shocked to find the messages on your phone.

“Someone sent them to her, too. She’s as innocent as the rest of us,” Renjun said.

Tzuyu frowned. “Okay…”

She seemed disappointed that you weren’t the culprit. You wondered why Tzuyu hated you. She was merely one of Heather’s followers so you guessed she would hate anyone Heather hated no matter what.

Still, this didn’t alleviate any of your worries. Someone kidnapped and murdered Yangyang overnight. And whoever that was remained close by.

And they weren’t finished.

Unfortunately for all of you, your cell reception was weak so you couldn’t contact the police. You were on the verge of a panic attack.

Renjun decided, “We should try going to the next town to get reception.”

Tzuyu started, “You are not leaving me here.”

“Fine, we’ll go together.” He said as they both walked off and borrowed Heather’s car.

___

You sat in the living room, scared to be in your room all alone. Hell, you didn’t mind being with Heather and Naeun. Jaemin was making lunch in the kitchen for you guys.

It had been a few hours since Renjun and Tzuyu left. Now you were all getting worried. The next town wasn’t that far off, according to Heather. So something was up.

And you wondered if it had been a good idea for them to leave. Maybe they had been just as much in danger as the rest of you. Whoever the killer was...He had resources to be anywhere at any time. It gave you shivers.

“Y/n, can you get Naeun a glass of water?” Heather asked you.

You nodded and met Jaemin in the kitchen. You asked him once again, “Are you sure I can’t help with anything?”

Jaemin shook his head. “I’ve got this.” He said as he finished making lasagna.

You got a glass of water for Naeun. “Jaemin, I’m scared,” you said.

Jaemin looked rattled up, too, but he seemed to be holding it together for the rest of you. And it meant a lot to you.

The four of you sat down to eat quietly. Naeun barely took a bite of her lasagna.

Not too long after, she started wheezing. Hives broke out onto her skin. “Epi...Pen...Heather.”

Heather jumped out of her seat. “I’ll go get it!”

“Oh God,” you panicked. “You need air! Let’s go outside, Naeun.”

You and Jaemin helped her out to the front door so she can breathe better. You were praying Heather found her EpiPen soon.

Heather returned, upset, “Are you sure it’s in your purse? I couldn’t find it.”

Naeun nodded. “Yes…”

When you realized Naeun’s EpiPen was missing, you ran up to your room and grabbed yours. “I brought mine!”

“Hurry up!” Heather said.

You ran back down and Naeun was able to get the injection she needed to recover from her reaction.

Heather took Naeun up to her room to recover.

“I wonder what Naeun was allergic to…” You said to Jaemin.

Jaemin frowned. “I don’t know...I had no idea she had severe allergies. Maybe it was in one of the ingredients but I’m not sure which one…God, I feel terrible.” He put his face in his hands.

“Hey, it’s okay...It was an accident...She’ll be okay,” you said as you hugged him.

“It was a good thing you had your EpiPen, y/n...You’re amazing…”

“Or I just have severe allergies, too,” you said.

He laughed awkwardly. “Right…”

Even more hours passed. Renjun and Tzuyu haven’t returned. Everyone was antsy.

You and Jaemin were going to go out and look for them but you were shocked to find his tires had been slit recently.

This wasn’t a coincidence. The killer was watching your every move. You wondered if he had gotten to Renjun and Tzuyu. Your throat dried up at just thinking that.

You and Heather grabbed weapons from her father’s shed, which included gardening shears and hunting rifles.

Heather taught you how to handle the rifle. You both went back into the house with your weapons in tow. You all made sure to shut all of the windows and close all of the doors. You scoured the entire property. No one can come in. And no could come out. You hoped there wasn’t some random secret entrance to this house that rich people always seemed to have in the movies. You all reluctantly headed to bed.

You sat up on the edge of your bed. You were comfortable in a concert tee and some shorts. You wanted to wear something that would be easy to run in. Just in case the killer would come for you next.

Jaemin was at your door. “Hey…Heather and Naeun both fell asleep.”

“How can they be asleep...I can’t sleep knowing that that bastard is out there…” You said.

Jaemin walked into the room. “Can I sit with you?”

You nodded. “Jaemin, what are we going to do...We can’t just stay here. We're sitting ducks. Renjun and Tzuyu are just gone...And we don’t know when or even if they're coming back…”

Jaemin rubbed your back in small circles. His touch was distracting. Kissing Jaemin would be a great distraction.

Making love to him would be even better.

That would be ridiculous. The last thing you wanted to do was have sex when a murderer was afoot. That would be a total cliche.

Jaemin replied. “I’m sorry, y/n...I think our best bet is to wait it out until morning and go to the next town on foot.”

You nodded. “Yeah...Maybe daytime will be safer.”

Jaemin nodded. “Why don’t you go to sleep and I’ll take the first shift?”

“Really?” You asked.

“Yeah, I’m wired. I had three cups of coffee in the past hour. You need to rest, y/n.” Jaemin said as he pulled the covers over you. “I’ll come back to wake you. I’ll be on guard.” He grabbed one of the hunting rifles he left outside the door.

“Thank you,” you said as you shut your eyes. Sleep quickly took over.

___

You were quickly shaken awake. “Y/n get the fuck up!” Heather hissed.

“Heather?” You exclaimed.

She shushed you. “Shut up. You need to come with me right now.”

“What’s wrong?” You whispered.

Heather made sure your door was locked before she returned back to you. “Naeun is dead.”

You looked carefully at Heather and had seen that she’d been crying. “What?” You asked. “That’s impossible.”

“We shouldn’t have left her alone. She said she was fine. She seemed fine. I went to check on her and...she wasn’t breathing. And...I think she was smothered, y/n.”

“Wait...Are you saying…”

“The killer is Jaemin,” Heather said.

“What? Why would you say that?” You shook your head.

“Think about it, y/n. None of us has good reception here so how is that we got those texts about Yangyang? The killer had to be in close proximity to us. Tzuyu and Renjun left in my car, which he probably messed with so they got into an accident...And...I don’t even want to say what could’ve happened...Whatever Jaemin put in the lasagna almost killed Naeun. Then, her EpiPen fucking disappeared. And then, conveniently right after, his tires were slit. And now, since he couldn’t finish the job the first time, he smothered Naeun to death.”

“Heather...Jaemin wouldn’t…” You started.

“I know...I had my doubts, too, but...he gave me some calming tea before I went to sleep...When it cooled down, I tested it...It’s been drugged.”

Your heart sank. “How do you know?”

“My dad’s company is working with the nail polish that can track date rape drugs. My painted nail changed color when I tested it out. Jaemin tried to drug me, y/n…” She showed you her neon green polish and the one fingernail that turned black.

You covered your hand over your mouth.

“I had a feeling he would come check up on me so I tossed some of the tea down the drain and pretended I was asleep. He came back to check that I was asleep, y/n...That’s just creepy. Why the hell would he need to drug me?”

Not knowing how to answer, you started, “Heather...Maybe…”

Jaemin surprised you both by breaking the wood of the door down with an ax. He made a big enough hole to unlock the door from the inside.

You and Heather yelled. Jaemin heard everything. 

Jaemin started. “Heather, why are you up? I thought I was going to take care of you tomorrow in my grand finale…”

“Shit,” Heather said as she got closer to you.

“Jaemin? What grand finale?” You demanded. “What is going on?”

Jaemin smiled wide at you. “Sweetheart, I thought I told you to sleep.”

The look in Jaemin’s eyes became cold...Calculating.

“y/n...It’s no accident that I asked for you to come on this trip…” Jaemin said as he pulled a knife out of his pocket and twirled it around his hand. “I thought you’d partake in the festivities…”

“What festivities?” Heather demanded. “Why the fuck did you try to drug me? Why did you kill Naeun? What the hell did she do to you?”

Jaemin tsked as he met Heather’s eyes. “Why wouldn’t I kill Naeun? Why wouldn’t I kill them all? Think about it, you ungrateful little brat.”

You found yourself moving closer to Heather then for she was your only living ally. Albeit the biggest bitch in the land.

Jaemin killed everyone.

Jaemin was the killer.

Heather shook her head. “Jaemin, stay the fuck away from us. I swear to God. Or I’ll-”

Jaemin chuckled. “You’ll what? Call Daddy? Call Mommy? They’re both abroad, never giving a second thought about their spoiled daughter...Those two think you couldn’t be safer and more comfortable…It’s ridiculous...A girl who has everything...Takes it upon herself to put others down...You’ve put y/n down for years...You’ve never let go your childish and petty hatred for her...And for what reason?”

Heather’s resolve faded when she realized what you had.

“Jaemin…” You started.

“Y/n, did you not realize that each person on this trip has fucked with you one way or another?” He asked.

Well, the girls were bitches, yes, but…

“Naeun was the one who spread that rumor about you getting your breast implants...Tzuyu was the one who nearly ran you over in the student parking lot...Renjun body shamed you in the boys’ locker room...And Yangyang told us all that he wanted to take your virginity this weekend…”

“Jaemin!” Heather exclaimed.

“You should’ve been careful with who you added in your group chat full of morons, Heather....Ah, and Heather, dear...you’re the ringleader in all of this...You goaded Naeun and Tzuyu to do these things to y/n. You’ve set out to put y/n down for a long time now. You even went along with Renjun and Yangyang’s comments about y/n’s body...Fuck you, by the way, she’s perfect in every way...And I should’ve made them all go through slower...more painful deaths for all of the things you said about her...”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You had no idea that even boys were targeting you...First off, you literally just breathed. The girls were childish and petty but…

“Jaemin,” you said.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Jaemin asked with a kinder smile to you.

“What they all did to me was wrong...But you didn’t have to…”

Jaemin’s eyes widened. “Kill them? Well, it wasn’t up to you...All of these people are worthless scum that won’t amount to much, honestly….So was it really a waste?”

Heather surprised you by pulling a handgun out of her pocket. She shot Jaemin in the chest. “y/n, let’s go!” She pulled you out of the bed and you both ran for your lives.

“Agh!” Jaemin groaned as he fell to the ground.

You both ran down the stairs. Heather unlocked the front door, knowing the house was no longer safe.

You both ran down the steps of the entrance. You had to pull Heather with you because she ran too slow for you. Then, you heard a gunshot.” Heather fell down. She’d been shot in the foot. “Fuck!” She yelled.

You turned to see Jaemin at the entrance with a hunting rifle. “Bulletproof vest, baby!”

You yelled as you tried to help Heather up.

Jaemin asked, genuinely confused. “Y/n, why are you running? This has nothing to do with you.”

You gaped. “Are you kidding me? Apparently, this has everything to do with me…Jaemin put the gun down! Please stop!”

Jaemin shook his head. “Out of the question, sweetheart. You’d be smart to leave Heather to me.”

Heather began to cry. “No…”

You wrapped Heather’s arm around you and both walked off. Heather winced with pain but she could manage as you kept running. Jaemin was getting closer and closer. He waited, then.

You and Heather were confused. Why did he stop running?

You and Heather both walked over a bear traps you both hadn’t seen.

You yelped in pain and Heather cried out, “Son of a bitch!”

It hurt for both of you to move an inch. You both cried.

Jaemin made his way over, using a flashlight. He sighed. “Y/n, you should’ve stopped running. Now you’ve your beautiful ankle...Well, it’s no big deal...I can disinfect it and patch it up nicely for you...After I’m done with Heather.”

“Jaemin, no, please stop. You don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to do this. That’s enough!” You pleaded.

At the sound of your last two words, Jaemin froze. The words brought him back to when he was a kid and he would pummel other children for bullying his younger siblings. His parents would beg him to stop. It was too bad that their words didn’t stick. And your words were no different.

Jaemin sighed. “I’m sorry, y/n…” He whacked the back of his gun over your head so you blacked out.

___

Heather had also been knocked out. She awoke to being tied up and sitting in the hot tub beside the Olympic sized swimming pool in the backyard. She noted that bricks were tied around her ankles. As she tried to pull herself up, it was impossible for her to get out.

Jaemin smiled wickedly as he wielded the thermostat. “You’ve always prided yourself on being the hottest girl at our college...Why don’t we put that to the test?”

“Jaemin, please stop! I am so sorry!” She cried. “Please don’t do this! I messed up! I...I’ve always been jealous of y/n! Because she was the one who had everything. The perfect family. The perfect grades. The perfect body. Everything about her is so damn effortless that I hated it.” She hoped that pouring her soul out to him might make him change his mind.

“Oh, boohoo…” Jaemin said as he increased the heat.

Heather grew uncomfortable. “Jaemin...Stop...Please...It’s too hot…”

Jaemin sighed. “Goodbye Heather…”

___

You slowly woke up seated on the passenger side of Jaemin’s Jeep. Your eyes quickly opened when you realized that. You jerked awake and found Jaemin in the driver’s seat, calm and composed. “I think we’re alone now...”

You backed up against your window. “Jaemin! Where is Heather?”

“Oh, she’s tied up at the moment...In the hot tub...She is indeed the hottest girl from our college now…” Jaemin said, a chuckle escaping his lips at his pun.

You were about to be sick. You pulled the window and vomited. You tried moving by the gash from the bear trap made you wince and groan in pain.

“Oh, y/n...I didn’t mean for you to get hurt...You couldn’t help it, though. Wanting to help that brat till the end...Because you see the good in people...You are simply too pure.”

“Jaemin...Where are we going?”

“To the next town...Where we will report a murderer that broke into Heather’s summer home…”

You looked at him in disbelief. Surely, he wouldn't turn himself in.

“The murderer is at large and we narrowly escaped, y/n...I got you out of the bear trap and we were able to get away in my car…”

You shook your head. “Jaemin, no...They’ll never believe you...”

Jaemin shocked you by breaking down the same way he had the day before you left for the trip. “Officers, please h-help us. Our friends are gone!”

You looked at him in disbelief. Did he fake crying before?

Well, you did think he was a tremendous actor. You just didn’t know how right you were.

“Jaemin, this is wrong…” You started.

He sighed. “Y/n...you worry too much...Now your life will be brighter...It’ll be perfect now. Perfect for the perfect girl…”

You contemplated how the hell you could get away from Jaemin. Your options were limited as he’d taken your phone. You couldn’t exactly run that far but you could find a way to slow him down. You noticed Heather’s car off the side of the road. It’d rammed into a tree. Jaemin must have tampered with Heather’s car, you realized. He did admit to having a hand in their disappearance, after all.

You thought fast and with all of your strength you moved over to Jaemin’s side and turned the wheel so the car collided into the trees.

The impact was intense but you’d dodged most of the impact. Jaemin laid next to you, unconscious and bleeding.

You limped out of the car and checked Heather’s car. As you feared, Renjun and Tzuyu died from the impact. It was a gruesome sight. They dealt with blunt trauma. Their heads were draining blood. You nearly puked again.

Before you broke down in tears, you thought fast and remembered Renjun and Tzuyu smoked. You rummaged through the glove compartment for a weapon or a phone...You came up short with Renjun’s lighter. Tzuyu’s phone had some battery left. The reception was low so you had to find a way to get to the next town to get reception.

So now what the hell were you going to do, you weren’t going to light a car up on fire...And burn the evidence that was once Tzuyu and Renjun.

You noticed the gas leak that came from under the car. You got under the hood of Heather’s car and found the gasoline tank leaking. You grabbed an empty Starbucks cup from the front seat and let the gasoline slip in.

___

You ran, not getting very far when Jaemin called out to you. He was able to walk normally and he was quickly catching up to you.

“Y/n! Sweetheart! Where are you going? Without me...” Jaemin called out.

You turned quickly and found he walked over to you with an ax.

“Fuck off, Jaemin!” You said, realizing he was just as capable of killing you.

“Sweetheart, let’s just talk about this...I did this all for you...Because I love you...I want to make you happy. I want to marry you. Have twelve children...Ah, yes, you said twelve may be excessive...How does eleven kids sound?”

You rolled your eyes. He was fucking insane. You decided to provoke him. “What makes you think I would marry a deranged killer?”

Jaemin’s face was unreadable then. You hid the cup of gasoline away in your sweater. Pretending you've injured your arm so Jaemin wouldn’t be the wiser.

“Y/n, please…”

You entertained him by turning around.

“What, Jaemin? How could you possibly convince me that anything you did was okay?”

“If you let me try…” Jaemin started. He got closer to you.

You waited for him to get closer and quickly doused him with the gasoline.

Jaemin coughed as some of the gasoline got in his mouth. “y/n, what are you-”

“Goodbye, Jaemin.” You ignited Renjun’s lighter and tossed it at him.

Jaemin clothes caught on fire. He yelled in agony as you watched him struggle. He threw the axe at you but he missed. You cried as you went back to Jaemin’s car and started up the ignition. Thank goodness, it still worked.

Jaemin immediately removed his clothes to remove himself from most of the flames and patted himself down. He immediately charged at you as you backed the car up from the tree.

You didn’t think twice as you ran him over. Checking the rearview mirror and seeing the job hadn’t been completed, you reversed the car and ran him over again.

You waited ten minutes to see that Jaemin was dead. You got out of the car and kicked his body to check for any movement. You got his heavy, lifeless body into the car with you. You checked his pulse again. He was dead. You checked multiple times because once again, you weren’t about to become a movie cliche.

You made it to the next town and reported Jaemin’s murders and how you killed him in self-defense. You explained your weekend of terror and you were at the station all week for questioning. Your family joined you and consoled you as you told them all you knew.

The police scoured the mansion. They found Yangyang’s body in the pool house, beaten to a bloody pulp. They found Naeun’s body in her bed, like she’d been in perpetual slumber. They found Heather’s body in the hot tub, wrinkled and burnt. They found Heather’s car where Tzuyu and Renjun’s bodies remained.

Jaemin told you the truth. He worked part-time at hardware store. He had been fired that day for snapping at one of the customer’s who was berating his wife. Before Jaemin left, he stole an ax. He really did get the ax, like he’d told you.

It turned out Jaemin tampered with the reception at Heather’s house and because her house was already remote...Jaemin was able to use that to his advantage. He used the last of the reception before he cut it off to send the texts about Yangyang from a burner phone, which was uncovered in his Jeep. Yangyang’s phone was unlocked and the police uncovered his messages that were supposedly from his dealer, who he scheduled to meet with the night he disappeared. It turned out Jaemin hacked into the dealer’s phone to get Yangyang right where he wanted him. Jaemin did indeed tamper with the wires of Heather’s car so Tzuyu and Renjun’s fates were sealed. The leftover lasagna Jaemin had prepared was analyzed and there were traces of crushed peanuts in the lasagna. Naeun had a severe peanut allergy. Naeun’s EpiPen was found with Jaemin’s other belongings. When you’d saved Naeun with your EpiPen, Jaemin took it upon himself to smother Naeun with a pillow in her sleep. Jaemin had planted bear traps around the front lawn, which was how he caught you and Heather. Heather died from heat exhaustion in the hot tub as she was tied up and restrained with bricks tied around her ankles. Jaemin had done all of this with gloved hands so no trace of his DNA could be found at the crime scenes. If it hadn’t been for the evidence he’d hidden in his car, then the case would’ve been more difficult to resolve.

Jaemin’s body was recovered at the crime scene. Thankfully, he was not a movie cliche where he up and left and awaited his next victim. He was dead to the world and most importantly, dead to you.

[Fin]

[luminescencefics]

you feel like home - part six

“Uh, sorry. Sometimes Jackson’s just too much, so I come out here and—”

He’s not quite sure why he’s saying anything. Neither is Ryan, considering her face is blank, brown eyes staring into green wondering why she hasn’t turned her back to him yet. Because in any other instance she would have listened to Harry unfalteringly, but that was before she read the signs wrong and tried to kiss him. Now she’s just staring at him, blinking through her blurry thoughts, wondering why the lift is taking forever to reach their floor.

“Sorry,” Harry says quietly, and Ryan isn’t sure if it’s for this awkward moment in the hallway or for not kissing her back. She doesn’t really want to think about it at all, if she’s being honest.

story page // read on wattpad // join the taglist // banner credit

previous | story masterlist | next

***

When It Goes From Bad to Worse

In the days that follow, Ryan does her best to stay locked inside her flat. She dodges Fiona’s constant calls, ignores the text messages that have flooded her mobile, all filled with questions regarding the so-called date she wishes she can just forget she ever attended.

Ryan feels a bit bad, because she knows she’s being selfish by leaving Fiona out after she promised to ring her the following day with a play-by-play of the evening’s events. But reliving those felt like some cruel sort of torture Ryan refused to bestow upon herself, therefore she’s decided to do the next best thing—sit in her flat with the front door locked wearing those ugly flannel pajama bottoms she buried in the bottom of her drawer, drinking cheap beer and ordering takeaway because she refused to leave her flat in order to do her food shopping. The slightest possibility of running into Harry in the fucking hallway was enough to keep Ryan inside, swallowing her pride and suffering in silence.

She feels like an idiot if she’s being honest. Because for the quickest of seconds, she let her guard down—her resolve that she’s built up and practiced purposely whenever she finds herself spiraling into a fit of anxiety and social awkwardness. For people like Ryan, people who feel their stomachs bubble with nerves and their brains whir with too many thoughts, people who over-analyze and plan their sentences because they can’t fathom feeling off guard, people like that need to have a protective layer. A perfectly practiced layer that allows Ryan to keep herself at a careful distance, so that she can act accordingly to whatever social situation is thrown her way.

But that night on Harry’s couch, she felt suffocated by his presence. She didn’t want to be at an arm’s length with him—she wanted to be smothered by his warmth and feel him crack through her walls, breaking down her barriers inch by inch and filling the gaps with everything she found herself liking about him. And for a split second, she did. She allowed her brain to turn off, finally welcoming the way her thoughts turned to mush around him. She completely opened herself up to the possibility of not knowing what was going to happen next. She let herself be vulnerable to the fullest extent around him.

And she figured that’s what Harry wanted her to do in the first place. Ever since she first met him, Ryan’s felt that he’s been chipping away at her wary exterior, scratching away at the concrete until his fingernails bled with every innocent query he had about her life. Whether it be her peculiar moving patterns, or her fascinating career, or how she spent her days in uni, he wanted to know everything about her. About the person she was buried beneath this protective layer she’s spent years curating.

But with one inch backward, one brief movement that ruined their almost-first-kiss, Ryan immediately realized that Harry did not want the same things as her. And she feels like an idiot because she was almost certain that he wanted her to kiss her, that he wanted her to make the first move and finally show her interest in him.

That’s the thing about infatuation, it allows for a momentary lapse in judgment, a brief juncture of blindness. It made Ryan’s tough exterior falter, but only just slightly—because the second Harry backed away from her, Ryan forced herself to close off completely, to rebuild her walls. 

The most aggravating part of it all is that she’s angrier with herself than she is with Harry. Because it’s not his fault he backed away—how could she be upset with him for that? He clearly invited her over for dinner to thank her for watching Jackson, just as he had said in her doorway that afternoon. Ryan let herself listen to Fiona in believing that it was anything more than just an amiable dinner between two friends, as he so reminded her when he defined their relationship as a “friendship” after she jokingly called him clumsy. Ryan couldn’t bring herself to be angry with Harry for not wanting her in the same capacity that she wanted him.

And that’s okay. It’s okay to not be wanted by somebody, because deep down Ryan knows that boys like Harry do not fall for girls like her. Girls who are far too awkward for their own being. Girls who feel more comfortable speaking to his four-year-old son than they do his father. Girls who misinterpret a comforting handhold as something more than a kind gesture. 

She just wishes it didn’t hurt this much.

After completing another series of the new Netflix show she decided to start bingeing at the beginning of her self-induced isolation, Ryan’s decided that it’s finally time to get off the bloody couch and change out of her horrid flannel pajama bottoms. 

Luna stretches on the rug beside her, curious in her owner’s newfound sense of urgency. She follows behind Ryan as she gathers all the empty beer bottles and takeaway containers, throws them into the appropriate bin, and wipes down the coffee table. When Ryan strips down and scrubs at her skin in the shower, erasing every remnant her abrupt downward spiral left on her, she feels ten times better than when she first entered the bathroom. 

She decides it’s time to properly stock her fridge, considering the only thing sitting on the shelves is an expired carton of milk and raspberries that are due to spoil by tomorrow. So with wet hair and fresh clothes, armed with a long grocery list and reusable bags, Ryan exits her flat for the first time in four days.

As she’s waiting for the lift to arrive on her floor, she tries her hardest not to focus on the voices coming through the crack under the front door of Harry’s flat. She can hear Harry’s low tonality through the thin walls of the hallway, and she can distinctly make out the words “please” and “Daddy’s very busy” and “I promise, later.”

Ryan knows it’s not her place, but when she hears the shrill sound of a toddler crying, she finds herself leaning a bit closer to 4G. She can’t really make out much over Jackson’s blubbering, but she can somehow piece together Harry muttering, “Bubs, please, daddy is so behind on work and I can’t sit here and read to you. Not right now. I promise when I’m done, just please stop crying so I can try and finish this song.”

She flinches when she hears Jackson’s wails grow louder, and suddenly she’s wondering how on earth Harry can manage to be a father while working at the same time. She starts to feel bad, because if she were in Harry’s position, taking care of another living, breathing human being all by herself, she’d probably go absolutely mental.

Suddenly the sound of heavy footsteps overtakes Jackson’s cries, and before his front door flies open, Ryan makes sure to back away, pressing her finger repeatedly on the lift call button once she’s realized that the doors had already closed and moved on to another floor.

Ryan tries her hardest not to look over her shoulder when she hears Harry’s front door close, because the thought of facing him after she ran out of his flat seems far too unbearable. But when a moment passes and the lift still hasn’t arrived, Ryan caves and peeks, and the sight is enough to bring a frown to her face.

Harry’s back was pressed against the wall next to his front door, his neck extended with his head leaning upwards facing the ceiling, his eyes closed tightly. His hair a mangled mess atop his head, tufts of curls sticking up haphazardly from being pulled in every direction. Two big palms were pressed over his eyes, his arms causing his wrinkled jumper to look even more disheveled. Ryan’s almost certain this is the most distressed she’s ever seen Harry, and before she can say anything, he rips his hands away from his face and takes a deep breath that causes his chest to rise and fall. 

Harry can sense that he isn’t alone in the hallway. And just as he opens his eyes, his face shifts to the left and he realizes it’s Ryan waiting near the lift. He notices the frown on her face immediately, and he wonders if it’s because of their failed kiss or something else entirely.

“Uh, sorry. Sometimes Jackson’s just too much, so I come out here and—”

He’s not quite sure why he’s saying anything. Neither is Ryan, considering her face is blank, brown eyes staring into green wondering why she hasn’t turned her back to him yet. Because in any other instance she would have listened to Harry unfalteringly, but that was before she read the signs wrong and tried to kiss him. Now she’s just staring at him, blinking through her blurry thoughts, wondering why the lift is taking forever to reach their floor.

“Sorry,” Harry says quietly, and Ryan isn’t sure if it’s for this awkward moment in the hallway or for not kissing her back. She doesn’t really want to think about it at all, if she’s being honest.

The lift chimes and the doors open behind her, and somehow from her position at the end of the hallway, she can see Harry’s eyes fall and his head shake frustratedly. He seems to be upset, and Ryan’s not sure if it’s from Jackson or from the fact that she’s about to walk away from him again.

Somehow it’s enough to cause her to ignore the lift for the second time, her feet creating a determined path to her front door, key fitting into the lock and turning unceremoniously until the door swooshes open and she’s standing in the entranceway of her flat. She can hear Harry call her name in a questioning tone, voice laced with confusion and worry. But before she can respond, she’s standing in front of one of her bookshelves, plucking the red paperback from the middle shelf. Just as quickly as she arrived, Ryan locks up with the same gusto, extending the arm holding the book tightly in Harry’s direction. 

His wide eyes create a path from the book to Ryan’s eyes and back again, and after a few moments have passed and Harry still hasn’t taken the book out of her hand, she pushes it an inch closer, forcing him to grasp it. 

“What’s this?” Harry dumbly asks, even though he can clearly make out the shape of a paperback book in Ryan’s small hand, as well as the yellow lettered Harry Potter writing on the top half of the cover. 

“I bookmarked where we last left off,” Ryan mumbles, staring at the loose thread on his jumper instead of the wide look of his eyes.

When it’s still quiet, Ryan just nods, taking that as her cue to leave. But before she can make it past his frozen frame, Harry seems to snap out of his dumbfounded state, turning on his heel and grasping her forearm lightly.

Ryan stops, trying her hardest not to shiver under his touch.

“Ryan, I really think—”

“—Let me know when you’ve finished. I can lend you the next book,” Ryan forces herself to interrupt, before shaking her arm loose and beginning the short trek back to the lift.

With a brief pause, Harry defeatedly calls out, “It’s your thing, though.”

Her finger hovering over the lift call button freezes, and suddenly Ryan feels as if she can’t move. How Harry even knows that his son said those same words to Ryan a few days earlier in his pillow fort makes her heart drop into the depths of her stomach, and she immediately feels bad for the little boy inside 4G. She feels bad because not only did she let him grow attached to her in such a small period of time, but she let herself get just as attached to him. And knowing that she can’t read the rest of the Harry Potter books to him, something so infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, leaves a dull ache in her chest.

She turns around then, feeling Harry’s heavy gaze fall on her. What once would make her shift uncomfortably in her boots from awkwardness now just leaves her feeling sad and empty.

“Just make sure you do the Hagrid voice, he’ll forget all about it being our thing,” Ryan says sadly, and both begin to frown, knowing that what she said held little truth.

He looks as if he wants to tell her something, but before Ryan can fall under his hypnotizing spell, can give him a second chance to chip away at her much thicker walls, she turns back around, jabbing her pointer finger into the lift call button.

She watches the screen count down from twelve, and she knows she only has about two minutes until it reaches the fourth floor. She’s praying that Harry will leave her alone, will reenter his flat and make sure Jackson is okay. But just as the screen reaches eight, she hears her name fall pleadingly from Harry’s mouth, and she knows she’s fucked.

Ryan doesn’t turn around, but she also doesn’t give him a reason not to continue. So as the number falls from eight to seven, she hears, “I really wanted to kiss you,” fall from Harry’s mouth, and suddenly her chest constricts, and she feels even sadder than before.

Because if he had said those words to her four days ago, Ryan would have turned around and ran into his arms, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him long and hard. But now, after four days of silence, four days of ignoring the world and rebuilding her walls, it’s the last thing she wants to hear.

She feels her skin warm with anger, because how dare he say that to her with her back turned to him? When she’s been replaying every incident they’ve shared together over and over in her head, analyzing every look, every touch, every word until she’s practically memorized them? When she finally decided that Harry wasn’t interested in her, that he was just another beautiful boy that Ryan could admire from afar?

So she buries it all—the anger, the frustration, the bitterness. She buries it until it’s hidden under every crevice of her insides, until the only thing that’s left is an overwhelming feeling of sadness. Because that’s truly all there is to it—a missed opportunity between two people who didn’t want the same things. 

When the doors finally open, Ryan doesn’t hesitate to throw herself inside, her back slamming into the wall with a clamorous thud. Her hands are shaking, and she misses the ground floor button on her first attempt, giving Harry the chance to step forward an inch and try one last time.

“I’m sorry,” he says despairingly, green eyes begging for her to listen to him. Ryan tears her eyes away before he can say anything else, pressing the button successfully and burrowing her hands into her jacket pockets.

Ryan gives him one last nod, her lips upturned in a juxtaposed sad smile. “Me too,” she says softly, closing her eyes just before the lift doors shut tightly.

***

The middle of the week brings a ridiculous amount of work for Ryan to complete, but she’s happy for the distraction. Because for a moment she can stop thinking about Harry, can stop thinking about all of the things he said to her, can stop thinking about what he truly meant when he told her he wanted to kiss her.

Because thinking about those things only makes the tear in her heart rip inch by inch, and she really can’t bring herself to break apart. Not when she’s rebuilt her walls. Not when she’s gotten so used to being alone, relying on just herself to get through the day. 

Because being alone is much easier than letting herself feel things. Vulnerability is a precious thing, probably the most precious thing Ryan has to offer. Her emotions are far too complex, her personality is sometimes fragile, therefore she keeps her vulnerability hidden under lock and key. So the only other option is to be alone—and it’s an option she’s been okay with for the better part of three years.

She hasn’t heard from Harry since his confession in the hallway, and Ryan figures it’s probably for the best. He’s confusing and he makes her feel things her heart hasn’t felt in a long time, and even though she feels an odd sense of emptiness in her chest when she considers her missed opportunity, she knows that trying to find steady ground with him will only make everything hurt that much worse.

Harry’s probably come to the same conclusion, and Ryan can sleep at night knowing that she did everything she could. She can finally put this odd relationship with Harry to rest, and even though she’s sad about it, especially considering she found a new friend in his tiny son, it’s something she has to force herself to deal with. 

A loud ping from her desktop shakes her out of her thoughts, and Ryan clicks on it to see a new email from her supervisor. Apparently, he’s sent over two parcels that require product testing, and Ryan sighs quietly, adding another thing to her overflowing to-do list. 

After sending over her recommendations on the Nerf blasters she and Jackson played with last week, Ryan heads over to her bedroom to find her ratty slippers. Her legs are covered in cashmere joggers Fiona splurged on for Ryan’s twenty-fifth birthday, and because she misses her friend a little more than usual, she’s wearing a white knitted jumper she borrowed from her closet and never returned before moving out.

Her hair is a mess of waves falling down her back, and she doesn’t even realize that she’s been wearing her glasses for most of the week, feeling far too lazy to put contacts in. With her mobile in one hand and her mailbox key in the other, Ryan heads out into the hallway, her brain already thinking about the next four things on her to-do list.

The sight in front of her makes her slipper-clad feet stop abruptly on the carpeted flooring.

Outside of Harry’s front door stands a beautiful blonde-haired woman, her hair much shorter than the long curly mane in the photographs around his flat. Instead of falling down her back, her hair is straighter now, clipped right above the tops of her shoulder blades. She’s donned in an impressive pantsuit with an expensive-looking briefcase resting on the wall near Harry’s door. From her side profile, Ryan can make out her perfectly constructed jawline, her exquisite button nose, and the edges of her almond-shaped eyes. 

Ryan immediately identifies the woman as Rachel, Jackson’s mum and Harry’s ex.

When Ryan looks a bit closer, she can see that Rachel’s pouty lips are in a straight line, and her eyes are downcast as if she were angry. Her hands are moving aggressively as she speaks, and when Ryan chances a look at Harry standing in his doorway, she can tell by his body language that he’s equally just as mad. His arms are crossed over his chest and his mouth is shaped into a frown and his eyebrows are furrowed, and suddenly Ryan feels as if she’s intruding on an intimate family moment she no longer is privy to. 

The Ryan before would retreat back into her flat without being noticed, but the Ryan after, the Ryan who understands that she and Harry have nothing left besides a tattered friendship, the Ryan who built her walls back up, the Ryan who promises herself to remain unfazed by whatever sight is occurring in front of her—that Ryan takes a deep breath and steps forward, heading for the mailroom because her job is much more important than her missed opportunity with Harry.

She makes sure not to make eye contact when she walks by Harry and Rachel, choosing instead to stare at the lock screen of her mobile as if the picture she took on the shores of Devon this past summer was infinitely more interesting than the arguing couple to her left. And just when she thinks she’s in the clear, a few meters away from the lift, she hears her name fall from the chipper mouth of a four-year-old boy. She looks over her shoulder, noticing Jackson’s curly head poking out from behind Harry’s legs, and suddenly he’s hobbling over towards her without a care in the world.

“Ryan! Guess what!” He’s in front of her now, head tilted upwards with a toothy grin on his face, excitedly waiting for her response so he can tell her whatever is on his mind.

Before she looks down at Jackson, she can feel the heat of a blue-eyed glare coming from the other end of the hallway, and she tries her hardest not to look up at Rachel. Ryan offhandedly hears Harry scold his son for running out of the flat, and just as Jackson begins telling Ryan his story, she hears the heated whisper of, “the nanny lives next door?” and she instantly flushes with red-hot embarrassment. 

When Ryan finally looks down at Jackson, she realizes that he’s been speaking to her for a few moments now, and she’s completely missed the first part of his story. She begins to frown, immediately feeling bad for focusing on Harry and Rachel instead of Jackson. All she wants to do is get out of the fucking hallway and into the lift, but her adorable new friend is making it that much more difficult to escape unscathed.

“Hey, champ. I’m sorry, but I’ve got somewhere I need to be. Why don’t you go hang out with daddy, okay? We can hang some other time.” It’s a promise she isn’t sure she can entirely keep anymore, but it saves her the guilt of ignoring Jackson completely. 

His excited babbling stops and he begins to frown, his bottom lip quivering slightly, not understanding why his new friend who always entertains him suddenly doesn’t want to anymore. 

“But, Ryan—”

“—Jackson, leave her alone. Come grab your things and leave with mummy,” Rachel says harshly.

When his face turns red and his big green eyes start to glass over, Ryan’s almost certain she’s the only person who can see his tantrum brewing, considering his back is to his parents and he’s completely facing her. Unbeknownst to her, Harry can feel it too, and he’s instantly regretting this entire situation.

“I don’t wanna go! I wanna hang with Ryan! And Luna! We play games and have fun and she reads me Harry Potter books, and I don’t want to go to mummy’s no more!” He’s having a full-on strop, tears rushing down his red blotchy cheeks. He’s gasping for air between belts and Ryan knows she shouldn’t console him because it isn’t her place, but fuck, he looks so sad and it’s utterly heart-wrenching. And before she understands fully what she’s doing, she’s crouched down in front of him, two hands resting gently on his shaking shoulders.

“Hey, champ. Whoa. Deep breaths, you’re all right, yeah? We’ll hang another day. You’ve got your mum now, don’t worry about me or Luna. We’re always right next door. I need you to breathe, can you do that for me?” Ryan can hear the sound of clipped heels echoing against the flooring, and when she looks up she’s met with nothing but a face of fury, blue eyes darted into slits and red lips thinned out in irritation. 

“What on earth are you saying to him?! You’re the nanny for Christ’s sake, not his mother! Stop trying to act like it just because you want to shag his father!”

The silence is deafening. Even though Jackson’s uncontrolled sobs are ear-splitting, Ryan can’t hear anything except for the sound of her heart sinking into her stomach. Instantly, she stands up, ignoring the feeling of Jackson tugging at the bottom of her joggers. She wonders if that’s what Harry thinks of her—if that’s how he describes her to his mates, to his family, to his son’s fucking mother.

This realization is entirely conveyed through her dark eyes, and Harry can practically feel her disappointment and anguish towards him. Immediately he starts to panic, eyes wide and mouth parted, struggling to find the right words to say, because shit—he’s never thought of her in that way ever.

But then he’s reminded of his wailing son and his angry mother. And instantly he goes into dad mode, delegating his son as his top priority and pushing Ryan’s hurt to the bottom of the pile.

Ryan knows this. And she suddenly wants, no, needs to be anywhere else but here.

With a muffled apology that she isn’t sure she meant to direct at Jackson or his mother, she skirts by them, stares straight ahead ignoring Harry’s gaze, and heads for her front door, shutting it tightly behind her before she slinks down to the ground and lets the first tear fall. 

She stays on the floor of her entranceway for a long time, muffling her cries with the sleeves of Fiona’s jumper until the tear in her heart rips completely open, flooding her insides until all that’s left in her chest is a gaping hole where her heart once was.

***

A/N: Hi all, that was part six of you feel like home. Please be patient, I know you guys probably want to slap Harry across the face (even though the chapter title sort of explained how it would go). This story is meant to explore how Ryan feels, and I really hope this part helped explain her reasoning. It’s a two-sided story, and I know you’re probably dying to hear Harry’s side! That’s the glory of mult-part fics, it’s his turn to shine next chapter. Thanks for all the feedback and love you guys are giving this fic, it makes writing it that much more fun. Part seven will be posted on Thursday December 7, so feel free to chat with me in the meantime and tell me your thoughts! This was a submission for the 1DFF Quarantine Challenge, which has other amazing writers participating as well, so feel free to check out the page! See you next week my loves x

taglist: @stylishmuser @vikki1220 @greatestview @verorax @cronias13 @adoremp3 @ilovegolden @taintedwonder @stepping-into-the-light @onlyphysicallypresent @dontwanttobealone @justsaying20 @elemayox @awomanindeniall @ihearthemcallingforyou @halloweenniall @live-at-the-forum @kakayam @harryinsweatersandbandanas @hopelessly-harry @ficnarry @morethanamelodyy @niallgolden @harryswinterberries @caramello-styles @harrysstyle @greatestview @solllaris​ @niallgolden

[carewyncromwell]

[Ficlet] Gonna Hit Rewind

Hi guys! So this is a little drabble inspired by a prompt by my friend @drinkyoursoupbitch​, where I show what my MC, Carewyn Cromwell, was up to during a certain scene in the Harry Potter series! 

Before we begin, just a couple of notes --

Post-Hogwarts, Carewyn becomes a lawyer for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement -- you can read more about her life as an adult here, if you’d like! When it comes to the Order of the Phoenix, Carey-Bear doesn’t formally join, instead providing covert assistance while staying autonomous from Dumbledore (who she doesn’t really like as a person) and looking “subservient” to Fudge’s wishes. Later on, this becomes very useful after the Death Eaters take over the Ministry in 1997: when the Battle of Hogwarts begins, Carewyn actually helps take back the Ministry by placing Umbridge under citizen’s arrest and temporarily taking charge until Kingsley Shacklebolt is officially appointed Minister. Carewyn’s outfit in the sketch enclosed below is inspired by this design. Musical accompaniment for this ficlet were “Leave Me Alone” by Michael Jackson (for Carewyn’s conversation with that...certain family member in the aforementioned sketch) and “Turn Back Time” by Derivakat (which inspired the title of this drabble!). And in regards to Carewyn’s negative attitude toward Time Turners...that is 110% my mother talking. When we read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child together, she absolutely hated that it involved time travel, as she found the whole idea ridiculously confusing and illogical. (The whole climax of Prisoner of Azkaban was even her least favorite aspect of the original Potter books. 😂)

Hope you enjoy -- and much love, Soup dear! xoxo

x~x~x~x

“Down here, down here,” panted Mr. Weasley, taking two steps at a time. “The lift doesn’t even come down this far…why they’re doing it there…”

They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to that which led to Snape’s dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.

“Courtroom…Ten…I think…we’re nearly … yes.”

As Arthur Weasley rushed down the hall toward Courtroom Ten, he was unaware that in Courtroom Seven, the door of which was left slightly ajar, Carewyn Cromwell was speaking to her estranged uncle, the new head of the Cromwell Clan, at that very moment, nor that their conversation would ultimately determine Harry’s fate in that courtroom happening just three doors down. 

“You’re not supposed to be here, Blaise, and you know that full well.”

“I merely wished to speak with the Minister, little Winnie -- you are aware of how much our family still supports the Ministry and, by extension, your career, are you not?”

Carewyn fixed Blaise with a very cold blue eye. “And I suppose Lucius Malfoy speaking with the Minister down here mere moments ago had nothing to do with you making an unscheduled visit?”

Blaise cocked his eyebrows, his identically colored and shaped eyes narrowing under them.

“I can sense you trying to enter my mind, Winnie,” he said very softly, his eyes rippling like light blue flames despite the hardness of his face. “It won’t work. You couldn’t reach my thoughts when you were a girl, and you can’t reach them now.”

His voice became cooler, to the point of sounding condescending. 

“Whatever questions you have, you know your uncle would be more than willing to answer them, if you merely ask nicely.”

‘Answer’ -- ha! Carewyn thought to herself scornfully. Lie your face off, more like. But even so...if I’m going to get what I need, I need to keep him talking...

Carewyn went very quiet, considering Blaise carefully and her next words even more so. 

“...Are you or are you not associating with Lucius Malfoy?” she asked softly.

“You might recall that he and Father were business associates back in the day.”

“Of course I do. That’s why I’m asking. Or have you forgotten where Grandfather’s activities sentenced him -- where they sentenced you, until you were able to bribe the Minister to reduce the rest of your family’s sentences?”

“Our family, little Winnie,” Blaise corrected her, a notable, fiery edge to his voice.

You all may be related to me by blood, but you are not my family, Carewyn thought fiercely, but she once again bit her tongue. If she provoked his temper the way she was tempted to, he’d be less likely to talk to her. 

When she didn’t respond, Blaise continued. 

“Lucius Malfoy has always had a working relationship with the Cromwell Clan. It’s only natural that we speak from time to time, as two patriarchs of prominent magical families.”

“Magical families with certain reputations, you mean,” Carewyn said very coolly. 

“Cornelius Fudge thinks very highly of Lucius Malfoy.”

“And of you, thanks to your impressive acting. But that doesn’t extend to everyone else, and you know it.”

“Of course,” said Blaise with a very cool smirk. “That’s something we have in common, isn’t it, Winnie? Putting on a charming face to get what we want, and not caring who hates us for it?”

Carewyn didn’t care enough to argue this point -- she’d already had this sort of discussion with Rakepick several times back in the day, and she knew that it meant Blaise was not only trying to divert the conversation, but also was absolutely full of it. 

You’re acting like this fact makes us just as bad as each other, Blaise, but it doesn’t. Even if we have some similarities in our methods, that does not make us the same. I’ve never terrorized people to try to advance myself. I’ve never manipulated or forced anyone to join a criminal organization. I’ve never masqueraded as my nephew in order to try to manipulate my niece into selling her soul and her freedom just to save him. However much I’m not perfect, I’m head-and-shoulders above you, when it comes to the moral high ground.

But honestly, there was no point in arguing with people like Blaise. It wasn’t like she’d ever convince him that everything he thought was wrong -- that Muggles weren’t inferior, Charles Cromwell was an abusive monster, and everything he and the Cromwell Clan did to try to get Carewyn, Jacob, and Lane back under their control was reprehensible rather than justified -- and she didn’t feel enough passion to try. Especially not when there were more important things happening at that very moment...

Harry would be in the courtroom by now. She had to hurry.

Although Carewyn tried to keep her face stoic, her brain was working very fast. Her eyes drifted away, off toward the far wall of the courtroom where the Wizengamot benches were lined up.

“...Look,” she said slowly, her voice becoming a little softer, “my Legilimency has become very sensitive, in this line of work. It allows me to read people’s intentions and feelings very quickly, even when I’m not actively trying to. And Lucius Malfoy...he doesn’t see you as an equal, but as a pawn.”

Blaise’s eyebrows came down over his eyes, but he didn’t respond.

“You and the rest of the Cromwell Clan only got out of Azkaban because you were able to appeal to Fudge,” said Carewyn, “but if you’re associating with the wrong people, that could very quickly sour. Your position will become uncertain again, and you won’t be able to protect them -- especially if Fudge gets the kind of control over the Wizengamot that he wants...where charges and judgments are laid down based on favoritism more than legality. We’re already seeing it with how Fudge is now treating Dumbledore and Potter, after how much he always sucked up to them. End up outside of Fudge’s good graces, as they did, and the same might befall you. I realize that you and Malfoy...”

Are Muggle-hating bigots.

“...have similar politics,” she said at last very stiffly, “...but Lucius Malfoy’s politics are far more extreme than yours, and although the courts decided there wasn’t enough evidence to prove his methods were also...we both know that’s also true. If he falls, he will drag you down with him -- and if you take the fall for his actions, he won’t lift a finger to help you.”

Carewyn forced herself to look Blaise in the eye. 

“Grandfather’s dealings with R got you all in enough trouble. You bought yourself and the rest of...our family a second chance -- something many others did not get. Are you sure you want to endanger that?”

Blaise considered Carewyn very carefully as she spoke, his blue eyes boring into hers critically. By the end, they’d actually widened.

“...Are you actually expressing concern for us, Winnie?” he asked very lowly. 

Carewyn scoffed. “Don’t misunderstand me, Blaise -- I don’t really think you all deserved a second chance in the first place, after everything you’ve pulled.”

Her blue eyes became a bit more solemn. 

“But truthfully...I’m not that upset that you were released from Azkaban. Dementors...they’re wretched creatures. I’ve seen what they can do to people.”

Her expression darkened.  

“...I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, however terrible they are.”

Something confused and almost disgusted rippled over Blaise’s face, making his nose wrinkle.

“Ugh -- and here I’d thought you’d actually weeded out that weakness in your heart...”

Carewyn’s red lips came together tightly, but she didn’t reply. The two stared each other down for a moment, before Blaise finally exhaled.

“Very well, Winnie -- you want to know why I’m down here?”

He reached into his scarlet robes and pulled out a gold chain, on the end of which dangled a tiny gold hourglass. 

A Time Turner. 

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon it. 

“Lucius Malfoy has expressed quite a bit of interest in my old department, when we’ve spoken,” murmured Blaise. “One sub-section in particular -- one where records of magical predictions are kept.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “Prophecies?”

“They are truly a fascinating thing,” said Blaise, his voice sounding rather airy. “So much value is placed on them -- too much, one could argue...just as one puts too much value on all attempts at ‘future sight.’ Alas, the section of my old department that Malfoy was interested in was not my area of expertise -- my area was in the study of Time, specifically backwards-facing. We did occasionally dip into the study of forward-facing time magic, but more in the sphere of inevitabilities -- things that evolve naturally in nature, every season -- not human affairs. Unfortunately when I was there, there was an employee monitoring the perimeter of the section I meant to enter -- I couldn’t have explored further even if I’d wanted to.”

“So Malfoy wanted you to stop by your old desk and pick up something that might help him or someone else enter the Department of Mysteries?” Carewyn asked. “Why?”

Blaise shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

“And yet you have a suspicion as to why?”

Blaise’s eyes narrowed upon Carewyn’s face, not angrily, but almost darkly. 

“I may no longer work for the Department of Mysteries, Winnie, but I cannot discuss the more classified branches of their work too deeply. That is part of the Vow I made when I first joined the Department -- it forces me to speak in hypotheticals and vague descriptions more than specific details. But I fear no random stooge using this tool to try to enter my old department, whether Malfoy or otherwise. In fact,” he added with a smirk, “I would frankly love to see them try.”

He ignored Carewyn’s critical, confused expression and pressed on more seriously. 

“You’re not a stupid girl, Winnie. I know you know what’s really going on, under the surface. Me offering assistance to Lucius Malfoy early on is merely how I intend to earn enough favor to keep my family safe, should the worst happen.”

“And what is that?” asked Carewyn.

Blaise cocked his eyebrows again. “Ask your mother. She remembers the First Wizarding War just as well as I do -- how it all started before.”

He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“Blaise.”

Carewyn speaking his name and sharply grabbing his arm holding the Time Turner made him stop. 

“If you wish to provide Lucius Malfoy useful information,” she said lowly, “you can tell him that that employee was not there by accident.”

Blaise looked back over his shoulder, startled. Carewyn closed her eyes tight, trying to block out the intense nausea rippling over her. 

“He’s there to make sure Malfoy’s superior can’t reach what he wants,” she murmured. “There are many more, just like him, all with the same goal. It doesn’t matter when you go there -- there will always be someone there who will keep him away from what he wants.”

Blaise stared at Carewyn, his eyes narrowing in bewilderment. 

“...Why are you telling me this?” he whispered. 

Carewyn swallowed back the lump in her throat. 

“I haven’t worked with time magic like you have...but people aren’t supposed to be in two places at once. That I do know. A lot of problems have been caused by people trying to mess with time. Mum told me that once in the 19th century, a whole bunch of people’s lives were erased out of existence, all because someone messed around with a Time Turner...”

“Ah, yes, Eloise Mintumble,” said Blaise, sounding as darkly amused as a bully might upon seeing one of their usual targets wearing a particularly obnoxious dress. “Tried to go back more than a few hours and ended up changing things so dramatically that she both erased 25 people out of existence and aged her body five centuries and died upon return trip. A rather fascinating case study.”

“You’re disgusting,” Carewyn said coldly. But she got back to the task at hand, her voice hardening. “Even if Malfoy couldn’t get what his master wants from the Department of Mysteries with that Time Turner, he could still do irreparable damage with it. If all Malfoy needs is assistance, to believe that you’re helping him and for you to earn enough esteem that the Cromwell Clan stays safe...then give him the intelligence I’ve given you. Don’t give him that Time Turner.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, his lips spreading into a rather condescending smirk. “Why? Because it’s wrong, little Winnie? Because it’s illegal and immoral, and ‘not the right thing to do?’”

“I’m not foolish enough to appeal to you with morality, Blaise -- I know you don’t have any,” spat Carewyn. “I’m asking you not to do it for your own self-preservation. For the Clan’s. ...For your family’s.”

Blaise’s smirk actually slid off his face. Carewyn held his gaze as best as she could, even with how ill she felt. 

“I may not be one of those who takes turns standing watch in your old department,” Carewyn said very softly, “but Jacob is.”

Blaise’s face went rather white, and Carewyn knew she’d struck a cord. For as cruel, selfish, and immoral of a person as Blaise was, he still saw his family -- all of it -- like his personal belongings. And he “took care” of his belongings. He wanted complete control over them and, like Charles before him, he never respected them as people, nurtured them, or gave them any freedom...but Blaise didn’t want anyone touching “his things.”

The older man’s jaw clenched as a rather dark glint flashed through his eyes.

“...I see.”

His teeth still bared, he extended the hand holding the Time Turner’s gold chain and, very slowly, lowered it into Carewyn’s hand. 

Carewyn’s eyes softened in relief.

“Thank you.”

Blaise exhaled heatedly through his nose.

“Jacob always was a fool,” he growled, his voice full of resentment. “Risking his life for people like that Muggle filth who abandoned you and your mother -- ”

“Better than selling his soul and freedom to serve the person who locked my mother and all of you up like prisoners,” Carewyn shot back rather coolly.

Blaise’s eyes flashed angrily. “You will not speak ill of your grandfather, Winnie! Everything he ever did in his life was for us, including you, your brother, and your mother, and I will not have you forgetting that!”

“Crow that lie as much as you want -- it won’t ever make it true.”

Blaise seethed as Carewyn pocketed the Time Turner in her robes. Slowly, his temper cooled enough that his lips spread back out into a rather vindictive smirk.

“For the record, Winnie...Time moves in a loop. If Lucius Malfoy were to use the Time Turner after I give it to him a half-hour from now, the effects would’ve already been felt by us by now. We would have heard about someone having broken into the Department of Mysteries before our conversation even started. The fact that we are not hearing that means that he never receives the Time Turner from me. So, in fact, it was already clear that I would give you the Time Turner before I actually did -- ”

“Oh, shut your trap,” Carewyn said tiredly. Just listening to Blaise wax on was giving her a headache. “I don’t even want to try unpacking all that time travel rubbish. All I care about is that Malfoy and his ilk can’t try to mess with time, now or ever.”

She turned on her heel and strode for the slightly ajar door. Pushing it further open, she then looked back over her shoulder at Blaise. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to take care of. Stay out of trouble, or I will not hesitate to prosecute you.”

Blaise’s eyes were very cold even around his smirk. “If there’s anyone who should be warned to stay out of trouble, it’s you, Winnie. I’m not the only one who’s aligned themselves with people who could drag them down, if they fall.”

“Perhaps,” said Carewyn mildly. “But my friends will catch me if I fall, just as they have before. Just like I always catch them. That makes all the difference.”

She walked away, her heels clapping against the black tiled floor as she strode to the end of the hall, listening at the door of Courtroom Ten. She could hear several voices talking inside -- after a moment, she recognized two as Amelia Bones and Cornelius Fudge. 

“...certainly described the effects of a dementor attack very accurately. And I can’t imagine why she would say they were there if they weren’t -- ”

“But dementors wandering into a Muggle suburb and just happening to come across a wizard! The odds on that must be very, very long, even Bagman wouldn’t have bet -- ”

“Oh, I don’t think any of us believe the dementors were there by coincidence,” said a very misty, serene voice from inside the Courtroom.

Carewyn’s shoulders relaxed, even as her eyes rolled up toward the ceiling.

Dumbledore. He’d made it in time. 

Exhaling heavily, Carewyn quickly turned back around and walked briskly back down the hallway, back upstairs toward her office. On the way, she walked by Blaise, who was now deep in quiet conversation with Lucius Malfoy, and Carewyn and Malfoy coldly stared each other down as she passed.

x~x~x~x

Carewyn hated keeping the Time Turner in her desk. She wanted to be rid of the thing immediately, but she knew she had to be patient. 

Around 11:00, just before lunchtime, Carewyn asked to borrow a Dungbomb from Tonks and covertly dropped off it just outside the Auror Department on her way back to her tiny office. The resulting smell resulted in the entire floor clearing out, until someone could deal with the smell. Carewyn herself, however, stayed in her office and powered through, spraying some Muggle air freshener to try to mask the smell. 

I forgot how much I hate Dungbombs, Carewyn thought dully. Oh well...desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess.

Keeping the files on a case she was working on open on either side of her, Carewyn read through them every-so-often as she pecked away at a letter she had to write. This letter had to be concise and to the point, if its recipient was going to know it was safe and exactly what she had to do, to help keep Harry Potter from getting unjustly expelled. 

Right on time, three hours after Harry’s hearing, Carewyn’s Legilimency picked up the feeling that someone was approaching her office. A moment later, there was a knock on her door. 

The ginger-haired lawyer exhaled heavily, her eyebrows knitting together. 

“Come in,” she said. 

Although she kept her voice level, she already felt a headache coming on. She knew who was on the other side of that door -- and sure enough, when it opened, in came tall, silver-bearded Albus Dumbledore, dressed in long midnight-blue robes. 

Carewyn’s eyes hardened as the Hogwarts Headmaster closed the door behind him.

“Hello, Carewyn,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. 

“You got my message from Tonks, then?” Carewyn asked. 

“To come straight to your office as soon as I arrived, but to not let anyone see me entering? Yes. Though I daresay the evacuation of this floor thanks to the smell of Dungbombs helped with that considerably,” said Dumbledore, and his light blue eyes twinkled. “I presume it has something to do with why some members of the Wizengamot were asking what I was doing back here so soon, and why Cornelius looked even more sour at my presence than usual.”

Carewyn’s face was twisted in a deep frown as she finally took the Time Turner out of the drawer and put it on top of her desk. 

“The time and place of Harry’s hearing was changed three hours ago, with no notice,” she said stridently. “The hearing originally scheduled for 11 o’clock instead was moved to 8 o’clock at 7:58 this morning. The letter was sent by owl to Privet Drive at 7:59, right before a second letter informing Harry that because he didn’t show up for his hearing, he was presumed guilty and therefore expelled from Hogwarts. Both letters arrived at 8:52. The Order wasn’t informed of the change until a little after 9, but was also informed by Arthur Weasley that you’d had the matter well in hand and had arrived miraculously early.”

“And so they felt no need to send me any post regarding the matter,” presumed Dumbledore with a dewy smile. “But in order for all of that to have happened, I will have to go back and ensure it does happen -- isn’t that so?”

Carewyn nodded curtly as she handed the Time Turner and a sealed envelope to Dumbledore. 

“Three turns back should be enough -- you don’t want to risk changing too much, by arriving too early, and I have a closed-door meeting with Chester Davies prior to that. Give this letter to me as soon as you arrive in the past. As soon as she...escorts you out, head straight for Courtroom Ten. You should arrive just after Harry does -- it shouldn’t raise as much suspicion if you make it to the courtroom after Harry, since he was already in Arthur’s office when he first received word of the change...”

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with some mischief. “Clever as always, Carewyn, my dear. You do the Order very proud.”

Carewyn’s eyes flashed. “I’m not doing this for you or your ‘Order,’ Dumbledore, as you know full well. Jacob was completely at R’s mercy after he was expelled from Hogwarts, and I don’t want to even think about where Potter might end up, if the same thing happened to him. And if Jacob’s guarding something in the Department of Mysteries, I don’t want to make it any easier for You-Know-Who and his goons to get the drop on him.”

Dumbledore’s calm didn’t shift, though his eyes did turn a bit more solemn. “And as always, Carewyn, your cleverness is only rivaled by your caring for others.” 

Rising to his feet, the Headmaster tucked the envelope inside his robes and then picked up the Time Turner. 

“I’ll be seeing you,” he said cheerily, “or, should I say, ‘I will have seen you?’”

And with three turns, he’d disappeared.

Carewyn gave an exhausted, groan-like sigh.

“I hate Time Turners,” she muttered to herself.

x~x~x~x

When Dumbledore appeared in Carewyn’s office out of the blue at 8 o’clock that morning, the ginger-haired lawyer reacted with a lot of irritation and suspicion. Those feelings weren’t helped when Dumbledore handed her the letter addressed to her, and yet written in a hand identical to hers.

Carewyn,

First of all, yes, I know you recognize this handwriting. This isn’t a trick -- it’s just the work of a Time Turner: specifically the one Dumbledore’s holding. On that note, ask him to hand it over and then smash it. We have more than enough problems in the here and now: no sense in adding more time travel rubbish to the pile. 

Now that that’s been taken care of, let’s get to business --

The time and place of Harry’s hearing was moved just a minute ago. It now starts at 8 o’clock in the morning in Courtroom Ten. Don’t worry, Arthur’s already been notified and is ferrying Harry as we speak, but Dumbledore needs to get down there right now. Kick him out of your office, nice and loudly -- there are people outside who could overhear, and you don’t want anyone to think you and Dumbledore are on good terms. Which, fortunately, you’re not. 

Now that Dumbledore’s out of your hair, let’s go over what you need to do -- 

Blaise has sneaked into the Ministry, specifically the bottommost floor near the Department of Mysteries, on Lucius Malfoy’s direction. No, Blaise isn’t a Death Eater -- just short-sighted and self-serving as ever. The point is that he has a Time Turner on his person, which he cannot be allowed to walk away with, under any circumstances. You’ll be able to catch him leaving the Department of Mysteries if you go downstairs in the next fifteen minutes. He’ll be meeting Lucius Malfoy around 8:30, in the middle of Harry’s hearing, so don’t let him walk away without getting that Time Turner away from him. Don’t come at the issue straight-on, though -- you can appeal to Blaise to give it to you willingly. Just keep him talking. Once you have the Time Turner, you can hold onto it until Dumbledore arrives in your office at the time that was originally scheduled for Harry’s hearing, so he can use it to go back far enough to arrive at Harry’s hearing on time. 

I know, this Time Travel stuff is absolutely bloody ridiculous. But at least this way Malfoy won’t be able to use the Time Turner Blaise stole to cause even more havoc. 

Burn this letter as soon as you’re done reading it. We don’t want anyone coming across it. 

Good luck. 

As for Dumbledore himself, he arrived at Harry’s hearing right on time, all according to plan. 

“Ah,” said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. “Dumbledore. Yes. You --er -- got our -- er -- message that the time and -- er -- place of the hearing had been changed, then?”

“I must have missed it,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done.”

[noethicalconsumptionunderdisney]

Hogwarts Sorting Profile: Max Russo

So, confession time: Initially, I wasn’t actually planning on writing one of these for him.  I’m sorry!  I love Max, but he’s often in the background of Wizards of Waverly Place and just has these really random plots thrown in his direction, rather than interesting character-exploration-type shit like the main sibs.  (Which, to be fair, is probably why some of y’all might be curious what I’m going to say about him.)

But I was thinking about what makes Max so odd as a character, and specifically I was thinking about him in comparison to other characters of his archetype in the Disney Channel-verse.  Because we’ve seen the messy, funny, underachieving brother character a lot, but they come in very different flavors.  Part of that for Max is that he shares some of those traits with Alex in contrast to the overachieving, overly serious Justin, but part of that is… Max often seems to be in his own little world, incomprehensible to mortals and wizards alike, and generally takes in the “real-world” around him with a shrug.  He still cares about the “real-world” when it suits him, but he’s often kind of divorced from it, and that discovery fascinated me.  Furthermore, it made his Sorting “click.”

We’ll start off easy: what does Max do?  The answer is… he’ll do pretty much anything.  He’s not a Burned Secondary, though, he just doesn’t give a fuck.  Max is every bit the Slytherin Secondary that Alex is, we just don’t usually notice because he spends most of his time in his Neutral State.

The Slytherin Secondary’s Neutral State is blunt, rough, and often unphased by stepping on people’s toes. It’s easy to mistake this for a Gryffindor Secondary’s honesty, but it comes from a different place: comfort, relaxation, and/or apathy.  It doesn’t inspire or motivate so much as sit back and do as it pleases, and the Neutral State’s honesty is there for convenience rather than necessity— if a different tactic will work better, a Slytherin Secondary can ditch their honesty and change direction far more easily than a Gryffindor Secondary.

Max isn’t exactly shy about saying what’s on his mind, even if it’s usually dismissed as nonsense.  He also does seem to charge into situations without a care sometimes, but that’s the thing: he’s able to charge into those situations because he doesn’t care.  When he tests out the zombies’ No-Fear Ring, it doesn’t work on him because he’s already fearless.  So while some Slytherin Secondaries are nervous about showing their honesty to others and only show their Neutral State when they’re home safe with people they’re comfortable with, Max lives in his honest Neutral State because he feels comfortable and safe most of the time… even in situations where he really, really shouldn’t.

Curiously, one situation where he doesn’t feel comfortable or safe has very little to do with actual danger, but about personal identity: when he’s turned into Maxine.  And in Maxine’s body, he’s a lot more manipulative.

“You know, I can’t help it if people think I’m cute.  Watch how I make it work for me.”

As Maxine, he uses his cuteness to get out of chores, to get revenge on Alex and Justin in karate, to guilt dishonest customers out of cheating his parents, and comes up with a plan to talk his “boy self” up to a girl he likes as Maxine so that she’ll like him when he changes back.  Yeah, can’t imagine why Maxine reminded Jerry and Theresa so much of Alex…

But there are Slytherin Secondary indications from Max in his usual form as well.

He has no qualms about outright lying — inventing a fake illness to get out of P.E., pretending to be “Tom Sawyer” so he wouldn’t be embarrassed by/compared to his family — but he prefers obfuscation, aka confusing people with his “Max-ness.”

“How do you get your brother to say what’s really on his mind?”

“Oh, I use randomness.”

“What?”

“Well, I just say random things and while people are trying to figure it out, they say stuff that’s on their mind.”

One example of this tactic being employed successfully is with the Genie.  While Alex fails to outsmart the Genie using her quick wits, as the Genie is every bit as cunning as her, Max figures out a way to piss off the Genie enough to blackmail her, then talks circles around her and confuses her until she reveals a way for them to undo her wishes.  Alex calls it “outdumbing” her, but in any case, he succeeded where she failed, and showed that he’s more capable than often assumed.

We get another rare moment of clarity from Max during “Alex Tells The World.”  

“Alex, you know you can’t reveal magic!”

“Oh, even I know that. That’s why I just make people think I’m dumb so if I slip up, ehh, they figure, the kid’s an idiot.  And I slip up all the time, so.  Who’s dumb now?”

Max’s admission that he “slips up all the time” isn’t exactly reassuring, but it is telling that he’s the only one who doesn’t reveal magic during both the Season 4 Premiere and the Season 3 Finale.  Perhaps it was dumb luck that got him there, but I think there’s more to it than that.  There’s a method to his madness.  There’s a logic to it, even if Max’s logic often doesn’t follow all the way through.

Which leads me to his Primary— Ravenclaw.  (LOOK I KNOW. HEAR ME OUT.)

Yes, Max is often seen as “the dumb one.”  Yes, Ravenclaws are perceived as “the smart house.”  And while I’ve just demonstrated that there’s a brain under all the Max weirdness, I’m not about to argue that he’s secretly a genius.  He misses the mark more often than he hits it, and oftentimes when he hits it, it’s through coincidence or dumb luck or Insane Troll Logic that’s impossible for anyone but Max to follow.  But I do believe he operates on logic, just his own wacky version of it.

The thing about Max is that he’s neither as dumb as most people think he is, nor is he as smart as he thinks he is.  He’s somewhere in between, and the fact that people never quite know where exactly he falls on that scale is kind of the point.

In fact, part of the reason I struggled with Max was because I was trying to figure out where exactly he did fit in:

He can be selfish enough at times to argue Slytherin Primary, the stereotypically “selfish” House, but he’s missing Justin’s protective streak.  He doesn’t feel that same sense of duty towards his family that Justin does; when Mason breaks Alex’s heart in “Wizards vs. Werewolves,” Justin turns on him instantly because he Hurt His Little Sister And Is Therefore Bad, while Max is the one most willing to give Mason a chance, because he has his own reasons for wanting Mason in his life.  Yet, he still clearly cares enough about his family to rule out the possibility that they don’t factor into his morality at all, not to mention how easy it is for them to influence him.  

His more humble ending of inheriting his father’s sub shop might make people think Hufflepuff Primary, but there’s even less justification for such a sorting upon scrutiny.  As I’ve touched on above, the staunch loyalty to community isn’t all that important to him, and he’s also not all that into traditions.  There’s no compulsion to help strangers, he doesn’t really make enemies but he kind of just ignores people he doesn’t like (or shatters them in a million pieces on accident), and let’s not forget that he unleashed countless monsters in New York City that killed all the Monster Hunters just to win the competition… even if he did do it when his Conscience was separate from the rest of him.  Not exactly behavior you’d expect from the morality system of “a person’s a person no matter how small.”

Speaking of Conscience, it’s notable that he argues with it, rather than accepting his advice. I’m still a little unclear as to how much this matters (there’s definitely room to argue that most of his brain went into Conscience as well, and that whole plotline was… weird), but even with his Conscience inside his body, he seems to lack that moral drive Alex has.  Gryffindor Primaries have this embedded sense of justice deep within their characters. Even when it’s hidden most of the time, like in Alex’s case, or when it becomes twisted into something dark and dangerous, or becomes Stripped of its certainty, there’s still this sense that there is Right and Wrong in this world, that trusting your gut should lead you to the right conclusion, and that it’s wrong to ignore it.  I have a hard time remembering if there’s really any situation where Max gets that gut feeling of Something Being Wrong at all, much less acting on it with a Heroic Plan… at least, not without convincing.

But Max can be convinced, and that’s key.  Alex often takes advantage of this to manipulate him for her own selfish ends, such as talking him into paying her for handing out fliers to her zombie prom, but more often it’s his parents that act as his voice of reason, whether it’s convincing him to go after the “deli robber,” convincing him to give his siblings a fair shot at the Wizard Competition, or convincing him to tell his girlfriend the truth… and then unconvincing him of that when he takes it too literally and tells her he’s a wizard.  

Actually, Max is prone to misinterpreting advice in this way while trying to follow it to the letter— he does this when he tries to sell fountain water with a puppy, as well, because his mom told him to “add something to it.”  I think he is, to an extent, aware of his own intellectual limits.  He knows he misses the mark a lot of the time, so he’s often willing to trust other people’s judgment over his own, so long as they can get it through to him in a way that he thinks makes sense.

But beyond that, he’s often willing to question “common knowledge” in a way the other characters don’t. When Justin tries to tell him he can’t make life out of the stuff from his room, he simply replies, “Where’s it say that?”  In season 4, when there’s a distinct possibility that he’ll win the competition, he expands the sub shop business by making the Wizard Portal into a Drive-Thru, which genuinely worked as a business plan until Jerry took it too far.  Later that season, he saves his siblings by creating a black hole and then jumping through it to pull them to safety from the black hole in Alex’s apartment.  Like, that was his idea.  He came up with that.  It was weird, it was risky, it was unconventional, it could’ve been incredibly stupid… and it worked.

And that’s what I keep coming back to with this Ravenclaw Primary sorting— that sense of ingenuity, curiosity, and the willingness to experiment.  On one hand, you have your System Claws, who are dedicated to The Rules because they’ve been convinced that living by them is The Best Way To Live, and on the other hand, you have those that are willing to challenge conventional wisdom and try new things.  It’s this willingness to question that I personally attribute to a Ravenclaw mentality, rather than inherent intellectual ability or a large knowledgebase.  While Max may not have the latter, he has the former in spades, and that, more than anything, is really what told me that he truly belongs here.

Conclusion:

Max Russo is a Ravenclaw Primary and a Slytherin Secondary.

As a Slytherin Secondary, Max often likes to confuse and obfuscate to get what he wants, is flexible in his methods, and can even be manipulative when he wants to be.  He’s also relatively comfortable with himself, thus he often lives in a Neutral State where he says whatever’s on his mind without thinking much about danger or whether he’ll be understood.

His Ravenclaw Primary is as curious as it is undefined, and operates on a logic that only Max truly understands.  While this leads him astray more often than not, this also allows him to break from tradition and try new things, and this unconventional thinking can sometimes lead to better solutions than anyone else could’ve come up with.  However, it also comes with a set of brakes in the form of taking input from others.  It’s not always easy to get through to Max, but he can be reasoned with, which in his case, is probably for the best. 

In this combination, we find a character who truly dances to the beat of his own drum.  As the most flexible Secondary and Primary, respectively, Max is a conundrum to most who meet him, confusing even to those who know him best.  That said, being the Russo who “goes with the flow” the most often, he’s also probably the Russo that has the most fun.  He’s certainly more fun to write about than I was expecting him to be!  I’m glad I did, and it’s good to be back.

[jaybear1701]

March 29, 1970

Astronauts are a rare breed, and Pam is still amazed that she, of all people, has a front row seat to the American heroes. A rather unique one at that, where she bears witness to facets usually shrouded from the rest of the country, catching glimpses of what lies beneath the carefully curated air of confidence and capability.

For all the stoicism of the likes of an Ed Baldwin, or the laid-back charm of a Gordo Stevens, there’s a thread of vulnerability that ties them together, tense and taut. It emerges as the nights wear on, and the liquor flows freely. Pam has bent her ear long enough to recognize it for what it is–an unspoken acknowledgment that, despite hours upon hours of meticulous preparation that can stretch for months or even years, the precariousness of their jobs means it could all go belly up without a moment’s notice. 

She observes this uncertainty–this fear –even in the ASCANs, every time they walk into The Outpost with one less candidate in tow. Pam makes sure to give an extra generous pour of whiskey whenever she sees the exhaustion in Tracy Stevens’ eyes or the weariness in Danielle Poole’s polite smile. Tries to make the already taciturn Ellen Waverly laugh whenever she folds ever inward into quiet solitude.

Yes, Pam knows the weakness of these titans of space. They know she knows. And though she’s an ally, and not quite a friend, her discretion makes her an honorary member of their exclusive club. But sometimes that privilege can be a bit too much. Too overwhelming to play unofficial therapist as she fixes cocktails and cracks open beer bottles for hours on end.

And so, she welcomes the breaks, and doesn’t hesitate to accept when her boss tells her to clock out early on a slow Sunday afternoon. It’s Easter after all, and even the astronauts know better than to spend it away from their families.

Pam’s halfway out the door, already in her own little world, when she nearly bumps into someone while crossing the threshold.

“Pam, hi.” Ellen, startled, takes a step back as Pam exits and lets the door swing shut behind her.

“Hey,” Pam greets, stomach fluttering in pleasant surprise.

In jeans and a white blouse, Ellen’s the most casual Pam’s ever seen her. She takes in Pam’s denim jacket and the purse slung over her shoulder. “You, uh, heading out?”

“Yeah.” Pam nods. “Got a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card for the rest of the day.”

“Oh.” 

Pam’s not sure if the flash of disappointment in Ellen’s brown eyes is a figment of her imagination. “Didn’t expect to see you here on a holiday.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Ellen shrugs sheepishly. “Took a walk and just ended up here, I guess.” 

Pam gives an exaggerated grimace. “I don’t know whether that’s sweet or sad.”

Ellen laughs. “Definitely the latter, for sure.”

Of all the ASCANs, Ellen’s the one Pam knows the least about. Not that she hasn’t been curious to know more about the introverted trainee. She knows better than to push, preferring to let people open up at their own pace. But when an opening presents itself…

“Won’t your family wonder where you are?” Pam ventures.

“Ah, family’s back in Connecticut.” Ellen slips her hands in her back pockets. “So…” 

She’s alone , Pam realizes with a swell of sympathy, and before she can think better of it, she blurts out, “You should come with me.”

Ellen’s eyebrows shoot up. “W-where?”

“Anywhere’s gotta be better than here.” Pam doesn’t know what she’s doing or why she’s doing it. But it just feels right . “I mean, unless you want to spend the rest of your holiday in this shithole. No judgment.”

To Pam’s relief, the corners of Ellen’s lips curl up. “Lead the way.”

It’s a beautiful spring day in Houston, still pleasantly cool as the days creep toward the heat of summer. Pam brings Ellen to her favorite park, where budding trees line the banks of a small pond in bright pastels of pink and green and white. The sun glints off the rippling water and, judging by the way Ellen’s eyes light up, Pam knows she made the right decision.

“So, how’s training going?” Pam asks as they walk side-by-side along a paved path that winds around the pond, taking their time.

“It’s…” Ellen squints into the distance before glancing sidelong at Pam. “Don’t you get tired of us unloading on you?”

The question catches Pam off-guard, and she doesn’t answer right away. “No one’s, um, ever asked me that.”

“Probably because a lot of us are narcissistic assholes,” Ellen says the expletive so matter-of-factly that Pam can’t help but laugh. “It’s true! You know it.”

“Not all of you.” Pam nudges Ellen’s shoulder with her own. “Listening’s part of the job.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t get tired of it,” Ellen points out, prompting a noncommittal hum from Pam. “I could go on and on about how it’s tough and stressful, but I’m guessing you’ve heard it all before. I’d rather know more about you.”

“I’m really not that interesting,” Pam deflects even as warmth prickles up the back of her neck.

“Try me.” Ellen looks at her with such open, genuine interest that Pam caves. She’s not quite sure what it is about Ellen that makes her want to open up, but she does and she goes with the flow.

She leads them to a row of empty benches situated beneath pergolas covered in plants that twist up and around wooden posts to create a tangled rooftop of sweet-scented blooms. 

“Let’s see.” Pam takes a seat and angles herself toward Ellen, who mirrors her. Their knees are almost close enough to touch. “Grew up in a small town outside of Austin. Got my bachelor’s in English from UT, to my parents’ deep and never-ending chagrin.”

“Which part didn’t they like, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ellen tilts her head to the side, curiosity etched across her pretty features.

“Take your pick. It was bad enough their only daughter wanted to go to college–because a woman’s place is always in the home, of course,” Pam rolls her eyes, “But she also had to go and pick a quote-unquote ‘useless’ degree.”

“It’s not useless,” Ellen says sincerely, once again surprising Pam. 

“Thanks, but I know it’s not exactly practical. I mean, not like an engineering degree or anything.”

“Engineering’s overrated.” 

Pam wrinkles her nose, incredulous. “Says the woman who’ll be up in space mapping out the universe in a few years.” 

“I’m serious,” Ellen insists. “Outer space is exciting, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes I think people get too caught up in the external, when there’s still so much left unexplored within humanity’s…” Her hands grasp at the air as if the right words hang invisibly around them. “I don’t know… innerspace? And the arts navigate it.”

Lips parted, Pam is left speechless and, if she’s honest, a bit flattered.

“God, that’s cheesy, isn’t it?” Ellen winces.

“No, that’s…” Without thinking, Pam reaches out and brushes her fingers against Ellen’s knee. “That’s really sweet. Thank you.”

Gaze drifting down toward the brief touch, Ellen clears her throat and looks out toward the water, seemingly fascinated by a family of ducks floating along the surface. “You’re welcome.” A light shade of pink dusts her cheeks. “And so you ended up in Houston because?”

“Isn’t it every little girl’s dream to sling drinks in a NASA watering hole?”

Ellen chuckles. “Definitely was mine. Except I wanted to do it on the moon.”

Pam shakes her head, amused, very much enjoying this playful side of the normally staid astronaut candidate. Truthfully, Pam’s not even sure herself anymore why she’s remained in Houston. What had seemed like a good idea after college has slowly faded in the wake of her ongoing indecision about what exactly she wanted in life. 

“I figured Houston’s not too far from home,” she finally says. “But far enough away that I can figure out my shit without my parents’ constant disappointment.”

Ellen ducks her head, dark hair partly obscuring the wistful expression on her face. “I get that.”

Pam stifles a sudden and unexpected urge to smooth Ellen’s hair back behind her ear. She leans back and crosses her arms, to prevent herself from doing something monumentally stupid. “Are you saying your parents aren’t thrilled their daughter could be the first American woman in space?”

“Yes,” Ellen answers candidly. “And no. My parents are definitely proud. Supportive, even. But I also know they wouldn’t complain if I just settled down, got married, and helped with the family business.” Her voice is soft in its resignation, and Pam can’t help but empathize. 

“Expectations are a bitch, aren’t they?”

Ellen laughs, the sound musical, and Pam’s heart throbs without warning. “Yes,” she turns her head to capture Pam’s gaze. “Yes, they are.”

Ellen’s always been pretty–Pam’s not blind. But in the sunlight filtering through the canopy above them, she’s particularly radiant, and Pam quickly forces herself to tamp down on the warmth spreading through her chest. This isn’t the right time or place, and most definitely isn’t the right person, for those sort of feelings. 

“I, um, I’m glad I bumped into you today,” Pam says to fill the silence stretching slowly between them, self-consciously brushing her bangs to the side.

“Me too.” Ellen looks out over the water once again, wistful. “I had no idea this was even here.”  

“It’s not like you all have a lot of time to sightsee,” Pam points out. “But if you ever need a tour guide, you know where to find me.”

“Not sure about a tour guide,” Ellen glances at her, almost shyly, out of the corner of her eye, “but I wouldn’t say no to a friend.” 

Pam pretends to mull it over. “Yeah, I guess I could put up with you. Until you move to space, that is.”

“Oh, well, thanks for doing me that favor.”

“Don’t mention it, but don’t think this means you’ll get free drinks or anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ellen says with a gentle smile. 

Pam returns it, trying but failing to ignore just how light her heart feels. 

[isshuns]

the progression of things - discarded scenes

this is a dump post for scenes that were in the original draft, but never made it to final version of the fic. they bear no connection to the final version of "the progression of things”, but i liked them enough that i couldn’t bear just deleting these scenes (TPOT underwent a lot of editing and rewrites) ;_; they were part of the original premise where I wrote Miyano as ace/demisexual, but in the end it didn’t work out ;_;

click on the “read more” link if you’d like to read them, but take note, they’re were part of the rough draft, hence are extremely unpolished. 

Miyano remembers being fifteen, his school bag heavy on his shoulders, but his heart heavier in his chest. Every day he looks at the mirror in his bathroom and wonders why he was cursed with such feminine features, a smaller build than the rest of the boys in his school; everything on his face seemed wrong as though nature forgot to switch its genetic code back to “MASCULINE, MALE” when constructing his face.

He couldn’t blame his parents, they never had any say in what he’d look like when he was born, and his mother would be heartbroken to hear that her son, bearing such resemblance to her looks, actually hated his own.

But as slightly estranged as he was from his middle school classmates when his looks came up as a topic of conversation, Miyano still heard Things whispered amongst his peers, seen Things even, when his classmates included him in their weekly get-together to ogle at printed materials meant for a demographic way beyond their age.

In the flush of youth, where the boys in his class pondered over their body anatomy, fascinated with nature, and looked to adult magazines (stolen from their older sibling’s stash) for enjoyment, Miyano pondered over the harsh reality of his feminine features, upset but resigned with nature, and looked to fashion magazines (taken with permission from his mother’s collection) for pointers on how Not to appear even more like a girl.

(His father’s copies of Business Weekly helped a little too, even if only to remind Miyano how top businessmen in the country dressed for a business photoshoot with the press – suit, tie and expensive watch peeking from the cuffs.)

When the passage of time came and went and Miyano entered high school, he discovered the world of Boys Love manga and dedicated his free time to understanding the intricacies of this fascinating genre. Being a minor, the type of print he could obtain were fairly sweet and innocent, nothing too explicit save for some scenes that took place on a bed, the protagonists’ modesty preserved with a flimsily drawn blanket over their nude bodies.

Occasionally, a book or two with explicit content would make their way to his collection. The internet was also a place full of wonders and possibility, and once or twice Miyano would (secretly) look up the famous series promised with rave reviews, but somehow, Porn Without Plot never really stuck to his repertoire.

Even after becoming of age, Miyano still finds himself gravitating towards the safety that comes with the PG-13 books. There is a strange sort of comfort in consuming fiction that depicts love as something simple and uncomplicated, straightforward and representation that love– intimacy did not necessarily come hand in hand with sexual acts. Intimacy could exist with or without sexual acts and vice versa, whatever floats your boat, really.

For Miyano, it was always the build up leading to that ultimate confession scene (at the rooftop, under the cherry blossom tree by the school yard, the back of the school gym, endless options) that grabbed him by the feels and punted him into the sun. That’s where the highlight is!! He once told Sasaki, unable to hold back on his excitement that twinkled in his eyes.

And identifying all the event flags leading up to that very moment of their first kiss? Unparalleled. Truly the best of all scenes there is. Peak romance. The bedroom scenes (few and rare in his possession) are really just a bonus.

So, while his peers continued to chat about going through the motions in bed, the closest miyano could ever try to relate to during those conversations was the intimacy that came along with the idea of sexual intercourse.

-------------------------------------

The moment Miyano is done with the last of his midterms and bids his notes goodbye (for now), Sasaki magically appears beside him and whisks him away to the nearby izakaya for a celebratory dinner.

“For getting through the first midterm week of your life~” His giant baby boyfriend coos, ever so sweet like the cakes he bakes.

Miyano pretends to be exasperated, shoulders dramatically slumping over the sticky izakaya table, but his heart knows better. It’s been one month since he’s started college (the one Sasaki also so happens to attend, not a coincidence at all), and the privilege of having more time to spend with one another makes Miyano giddy with happiness.

Gone are the days Miyano can only meet his favourite senpai for a handful of hours after club activities until the reality of their courseload slaps them in the face; gone are the days they have to rely on telephone calls and text messages, where the minutes and seconds flashing across the screen serve as an unforgiving reminder of the time they have left before they have to part ways.

It’s all gone now. Sasaki sits before him, in the flesh, and Miyano has always felt that seeing Sasaki’s smile in person would always be different from seeing it on screen. The grainy pixels on his phone can never do those handsome features justice, nor can it the warmth blooming behind his breastbone whenever Sasaki threads their fingers together and walks him all the way back to his dorm.

The freshmen all share a common dormitory block separate from the rest of the college students, something about building connections and getting to know each other better, so Sasaki insists on walking Miyano back to his room before he makes the trek all the way back to his own. The night is young, the dorms are peacefully quiet, and everyone is probably still out in town having a good time.

---------------------------

Loathe as he is to do so, Miyano makes the executive decision to drop by the bookstore one afternoon to try and consult a few adult BL manga. It’s the worst idea he could ever come up with, he hates comparing his own relationship to silly BL manga tropes, but nothing short of an apocalypse would push him to ask the people around him whether it’s normal to… not think about sex in a romantic relationship. While the internet is a wondrous place full of answers and possibilities, Miyano figures it probably wouldn’t hurt to take a peek at how society tackles his questions through the lens of BL manga.

Hurriedly, just before his date with Sasaki, he randomly picks up one of the highly rated R-18 series, heads over to the payment counter quickly, and bolts out of the store the moment the cashier bags his purchases. He makes sure to stuff the damned volumes deep beneath his bag, out of sight, before he heads over to the café to meet Sasaki for lunch.

And when he’s finally back in his own dorm later that night, his roommate blissfully unaware and asleep, Miyano retrieves the book from his bag, cautiously peels away the plastic wrap before he settles down for the night to take notes.

His efforts are all for naught. Halfway through the series – one Junjou Romantica –, it takes Miyano all but 3 volumes before he calls it quits and and promptly closes the book. Guess there’s no way he can redeem his money now, unless Sasaki is into dubcon…? Well, that’s a thought for future Miyano to ponder on. Current Miyano just wants to sleep and wash the images out of his mind with bleach.

-------------------------------

he has no care for sex, but nothing compares to the tender happiness that comes along with partaking in something sasaki enjoys and yearns for. sasaki’s language of love has always been touch and spending time partaking in activities of common interest.

today, sasaki has picked a soothing lo-fi playlist as their background music. they’re seated on the bed, warmly nestled against each other as they browse through their respective manga

his eyes may be on inked pages, but his heart is long gone. he discreetly observes his boyfriend, the curve of his jaw, long lashes almost curling against the high of his cheekbones as his honey-gold eyes flit across pages and pages of content.

the fingers flipping through each page is steady, long, and miyano suddenly wonders how it would feel to have them splayed across his body, touching him in places his own hands have never ventured before.

“what’s wrong, myaa-chan?” sasaki smiles at him, eyes impossibly fond and kind.

well, fuck it, there’s no going back now.

“senpai, what do you think… about… BL with explicit content?”

sasaki blinks. miyano tampers down the urge to kiss those parted lips.

“you mean books with sex scenes in them?”

“yeah.”

“oh.” sasaki turns away, the hand that’s not rested on miyano’s shoulder has found a place on top of sasaki’s mouth. he’s embarrassed, miyano realizes, and somehow that makes him feel ten times more endearing than usual.

sensing that this was a topic his boyfriend wasn’t going to let go any time soon, sasaki clears his throat and returns miyano’s gaze head on.

“i’m fine with it. why do you ask?”

“i… well.” while miyano struggles for words, sasaki hand starts moving up and down his arm, soothing him.

“are you starting to read rated manga? it’s normal, at least, ogasawara’s girlfriend says so. so there’s no need to be shy, myaa-chan! if you want to recommend any, you know I’ll read anything you lend me. no judgment here.”

it should have been reassuring, but the thought that ogasawara’s girlfriend discussed with sasaki about explicit BL manga like it’s the fucking weather has miyano choking on his spit. what the actual fuck.

do people actually talk about these things? is miyano the abnormal one instead for never entertaining the thought of doing things with his significant other?! has he been missing out on some code of relationship couples ought to follow?! the BL mangas he read never said so!

“myaa-chan? are you okay?”

“you- you talk with ogasawara senpai about these things?”

sasaki’s cheeks colour a lovely shade of red. from his looks, he’s starting to catch up with where miyano wants the conversation to go. that’s a relief, because miyano honestly doesn’t know how to tactfully broach the topic without sounding like a dumb dumb about these things.

“yeah, i do.” sasaki admits, “but only once or twice, because ogasawara needed to vent about things. sorry, does that weird you out? i can stop. i don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“no, no, it’s fine. totally fine, senpai.” it must be a common boys topic that somehow eluded miyano and friends during high school. at this point, miyano’s face must be burning with the hot flames of embarrassment and shame, he’s pretty sure sasaki’s fingers can feel the heat all the way from where they are, stroking his cheek absently.

“what brought this on, if you don’t mind me asking?” sasaki asks a moment later, when the weight of silence in the room gets a little too much to bear.

“just… some friends talking about it the other day.”

“friends.”

“yeah… fine, classmates.”

“are you… thinking about it?”

at miyano’s surprised expression, sasaki backtracks immediately.

“forget i asked.”

“to be honest, i don’t know what to feel about it.”

“it’s okay, we don’t have to do what you don’t want to do.”

it’s so painfully awkward yet endearing at the same time.

“do you think about it, senpai? about us… doing those things?”

sasaki’s lack of an answer is extremely telling. the shade of red coloring his cheeks is probably bright enough to rival miyano’s own face.

“does it matter? i am happy with doing whatever myaa-chan wants to do.” sasaki finally says, but his eyes have shied away from miyano’s gaze, and something within miyano snaps.

“of course it matters. it’s you, sasaki-senpai. i want you to be happy too. i want to do things that you want to do too.”

something akin to hope blooms across sasaki’s eyes (surprisingly moist).

“thank you, myaa-chan. that thought alone makes me happy enough. let’s leave it here for now and let things progress as they naturally would, how about that? we don’t need to rush into anything. i’m really happy with where we are now.”

he knows that sasaki has caught on to his sexual orientation, no doubt. it’s been a year since he became of age, and yet the BL manga he still buys have never ventured into the explicit genre. briefly, he wonders if sasaki actually keeps his own stash of porn somewhere below his bed, like normal boys would do.

they aren’t in high school anymore. it’s been years, and yet until this point, the thought of doing something more than kissing and cuddling has never crossed miyano’s mind. he wants to cry at how respectful his boyfriend has been all this while.

“myaa-chan? myaa-chan? oh no, yoshikazu, don’t cry. i’m sorry if i said something wrong-”

oh fuck.

miyano has always been uncomfortable with displays of affection and attention, preferring to bask in the comforting arms of his daydreams and fantasies, but his love for sasaki burns greater and he will do anything he can to ensure that sasaki receives equal, if not more, affection and care than the amount his boyfriend showers him in.

scene ends with sasaki hugging miyano tightly, reassuring him and planting a kiss at the side of miyano’s temple. but it does nothing to seep away the frustration gnawing at his bones.

END

[fremedon]

Brickclub catchup, 2.3.6 - 2.3.9

Brickclub restarts today! I still haven’t written up the last three chapters because they’re almost all plot, and I have a much harder time finding things to say about plot than I do about the digressions.

These four chapters bring Valjean into the Thenardiers’ inn and out of it again, with Cosette. Once again, Valjean is not named, and we see him mostly from outside, though Hugo is exercising very fine control over the level of distance--his departure from Paris is seen not merely from outside, but through sources which are named--police reports, the speech of the king and his bodyguards.

(I feel like Valjean’s encounter with Louis XVIII’s carriage has be significant--it’s the king, after all--but I don’t have a handle on how. The bishop’s encounter with Napoleon stated one of the principal concerns of the book; Louis...well, he’s that big man who’s the government.

He keeps coming up over the next couple of chapters, though--Hugo specifies that the gold coin Valjean leaves in Cosette’s shoe is not a Napoleon but a newly-mined louis d’or of the Restoration; Mme. Thenardier says she’d rather marry Louis XVIII than keep Cosette in the house another day. (And Cosette’s reaction to the doll is like being told she’s the queen of France; and Mme. Thenardier says soon the stranger will be calling Cosette “Your Majesty” as if she were the Duchesse du Berry. Maybe it’s just that we’ve left Waterloo, and the narrative is embedding itself in the Restoration?

Actually--no, maybe it’s that Cosette is leaving The Sergeant of Waterloo, emerging from the keeping of the character identified with both Bonapartes.)

After Valjean leaves the stagecoach, we follow him at a camera’s eye viewpoint and see his encounter with Cosette again, this time from outside; then into the inn where we see him through the eyes of Mme. Thenardier and the other patrons; and then finally, as he takes the candle and finds Cosette, and places the louis d’or in her shoe, it zooms in quite close--not entirely getting into his head, but making his thoughts and feelings very clear.

And then we zoom out again and watch him through Thenardier’s eyes, but this time, Valjean has the upper hand. The decrease in narrative distance has been matched by an increase in Valjean’s confidence and ability to navigate human society--he’s gone from so feral and baffled that he throws himself into ditches to hide from passers-by to calm, collected, and in control. Cosette--seeing her, realizing what she needs from him--is the catalyst; but it also feels almost like the reader’s observation is helping him along. The closer we get to his own viewpoint, the more human he becomes.

Some scattered observations:

Les Deux Forçats is a real play, which premiered in 1822.

Cosette saying she never had a mother when the narrator told us flat out in her last chapter that Fantine’s spirit was there and watching is heartbreaking. (And h/t to whoever pointed out--Pilf, possibly?--that Fantine’s deathbed vision of Valjean coming for Cosette isn’t just wishful thinking: she’s seeing this scene; she’s seeing the future.)

Cosette “resorted to the tactic adopted by children in constant fear: she lied.” Once again, it is really striking just how blasé Hugo is about lying. He doesn’t judge it at all, except from a purely utilitarian standpoint. It’s really striking here, on the heels of several mentions about how Cosette has never been to church and knows nothing of religion--you would expect any other writer of the time to point to Cosette’s lies as evidence of the neglect of her moral education, and Hugo doesn’t.

Immediately following that--Valjean pretends to find Cosette’s lost coin, and even though the one he hands over is the wrong denomination, Mme. Thenardier is still partially taken in: “Anyway, it’s just as well he didn’t take it into his head to steal the money that was on the floor.” Cosette lying out of fear is followed by Valjean lying out of compassion for her, and it’s a notable moment in his progression back to functionality and humanity.

“But that a man wearing a hat like that should take the liberty of making any request, and that a man wearing a coat like that should take the liberty of expressing himself, was something that Madame Thenardier did not think she had to tolerate.” The way Mme. Thenardier and Javert reach the same sorts of judgments through entirely different thought processes is fascinating. They both judge sort people instantly into social categories and are personally offended when they don’t fit into them nicely, but for Javert the social order is itself good and necessary, while for Mme. Thenardier it’s all about her fear of anything threatening her own interests or those of her daughters.

Similarly, “no matter how much in her effort to imitate her husband in all his actions she had made a habit of dissimulation,” controlling her feelings about Cosette’s sudden elevation in the world is beyond her. She and Javert will both attempt to lie to satisfy authorities, but it doesn’t come naturally to them.

Cosette dresses up her lead sword as a doll because she is so desperate for something to love. In her earshot, Mme. Thenardier tells Valjean that Fantine was a bad mother who abandoned Cosette and is probably dead; Thenardier and the other customers sing bawdy songs about the Virgin Mary and the baby Jesus; and Cosette rocks her swaddled sword and croons “My mother is dead! My mother is dead.” That’s...a lot of motherhood all over the page, and all of it twisted somehow. But it sets up the stage very well for Valjean to step in. He’s not anyone’s idea of a mother--but if these are the other options, he’ll do.

Cosette stares at the magnificent doll “as if it might have been the sun approaching.” Little Cosette really is Grantaire and I’m still not sure what to do with that, because everything it suggests about Grantaire’s potential is just heartbreaking.

Santa Claus Valjean! Just in case the breaking and entering to leave alms hadn’t already clued us in. Saint Nicholas is the patron of repentant thieves, prostitutes, small boys, and young girls of marriageable age; I feel like Hugo looked at that list and said “Sounds like the three problems of the age.”

Thenardier stays up until 3 AM watching Valjean, and then is up again two hours before daybreak writing the bill. I know it’s three nights past the solstice and daybreak is pretty late, but wow he is taking no chances on Valjean’s slipping away unnoticed.

Fursona watch:

“Eponine and Azelma did not look at Cosette. For them she was like the dog.”

The scene where the girls dress up the cat is such a well-observed piece of pretend, but also--if little girls are cats nowadays, does that mean they will grow up to be lions?

(Also, I am hella impressed at just how many minutes of time must elapse in the story without Eponine losing her hold on that cat--even holding it one-handed while she tugs on her mother’s skirt!. Donougher specifies that the cat is not just dressed, but “swaddled,” so maybe the cat is burritoed? Still impressive.)

Mme. Thenardier says Cosette is “more like a bat than a lark.”

[blackberry-gingham]

Ah I love your writing!😌 Idk if you’d include beatle girls in the prompts but reader being friends with Cynthia or Maureen and they take reader to the cavern club for the first time. Cyn/Mo set reader up on a blind date with one of the other teddy beatles (either Geo or Paul) so they can double date with them and their Beatle. Reader’s nervous that their date will think their too square or boring but they actually end up really hitting it off!

Lol, this is a good one! Honestly I'm a little new to the fandom still, so I don't know toooo much about all the Beatle girls, but I do know Cynthia! So yeah, in that case, I think it'd make sense that John's girl would want to set you up with Paul lol.

Anyway, I'm going to do an Imagine for this one, hope that's ok! It's new years themed, in honor of today!! Enjoy ❤️

---

Today is an important day

Well, important to you that is

See, you've been single for longer then you'd like to admit, and your friend Cynthia has had enough!

She's decided your new year's resolution for you, and that is to finally land a boyfriend!

Cynthia's been seeing her teddy boy John for a while now, and they've really hit it off!

This is something of a surprise to you, given all that you've heard of teds and their reputation

Even crazier is that the guy she wants to set you up with is a teddy boy too!

Buuuut... You trust Cyn and her judgment, plus you're tired of being single already! So you take the chance

She says the guy's name is Paul

He plays the bass and is John's best friend!

That's about all you know, so you're anxious to meet him

The place you're meeting is called the cavern club, where John and the boys should be finishing up a gig

You and Cynthia arrive in time to catch the last of their set

She gets a table for four and orders some drinks

Once you're set up and seated, all that's left is to enjoy the show

John swaggers up to the mic and spots Cynthia in the crowd, he winks and dedicates the next song to her

She rolls her eyes, but laughs and claps politely

Next she points out Paul to you up on stage

You follow her finger and... Oh

There, receiving likewise information from John, stands a very handsome young man

John nods in your direction and when Paul sees you, his eyes light up

In that moment he decides he has to impress you

Just by watching, you can see how much charisma and charm he wields

As his little performance for you goes on, you find yourself feeling very... Subpar

He's just so cool

And you're just so you

"Something wrong? Are you feeling alright?", Cynthia asks, concern written all across her face

You take a breath to steady yourself and assure her you're fine

Luckily the song is at an end by now and the torture is over

John thanks the crowd and the boys pack up their gear

A good ten minutes or so pass, until finally John and Paul arrive at your table

Cynthia and John kiss and say their hellos before introducing you to Paul and vice versa

Paul strides up to you all smiles, and takes your hand

He kisses your knuckles, "A pleasure"

Your heart skips a beat, and now you're really intimidated

Paul pulls out your chair for you, then pushes you in before taking a seat beside you

John and Cynthia open the floor to some group conversation to try and get everyone comfortable

You do your best to participate, but can't help but feel quiet and shy

Cynthia shoots you a sympathetic look, and prays that you'll come out of your shell

John and Cyn pair off into their own conversation and let you and Paul get to know one another

Paul starts off the conversation as his chatty self, asking after all kinds of things in the hopes of snagging your attention

You try your best, you really do, but it just seems so hard open up

How can one man be so overwhelmingly charming??

However, Paul remains polite to the very end and as a last resort tries to turn the conversation over to you

"So... Do you like music?"

"Oh, haha yeah... Do you know Buddy Holly and the crickets? Or maybe, Chuck Berry?

Paul's jolts with excitement, "Do I! Why those are some of our biggest influences, aren't they John"

"They are so!"

Paul turns his attention back to you, even more excited to see your change in posture

You do so love music, and this whole concept of rock n roll fascinates you!

"Say, have you heard Elvis? He's practically John's idol!"

Of course you have!

The two of you go on and on for the rest of the dinner date, talking excitedly about all the latest musical gossip

It even opens up the gate for Paul to talk about his bass skills and the music he and John have been working on

And all of a sudden, this Paul McCartney and his coolness don't seem so scary

Now that he's had the chance to see the real you in all your kindness and passion, Paul swears you've already stolen his heart

John and Cynthia leave a bit early and say their goodbyes while you and Paul stay behind

Cynthia smiles knowingly at your as she takes John's arm

She's so happy for you

Her eyes tell you to fill her in on the details later and you smile back to seal the promise

You and Paul stay a while longer until you get bored of sitting

He picks up the tab and offers to take you backstage and show you his bass

Eagerly you agree

"Well then what are we waiting for!"

He grabs your hand and half leads, half drags you after him

Once he's secured his instrument, you spend a bit of time talking about it's make and model before he offers to take your song requests

The two of you get lost in the music, going back and forth discussing and playing your favorite compositions

Not to mention, Paul has a wonderful singing voice too!

"You think so?"

He smiles at you with stars in his eyes as you nod in affirmation

His look changes to a smirk, and you wonder what he has planned

"Well then you'll have to tell me how you like this one. I call it, Love Me Do..."

[arigatouiris]

bloody brilliant // midoriya izuku

Author’s Note: After a LONG ABSENCE, I’m back! Sort of, I’m trying to write again regularly? I was in a slump for a bit and managed to play The Last of Us II and make my mental health worse (in a good way?) lmao. Thank you for such kind words yesterday when I was at my worst?? You guys are amazing and the positivity just UGH I LOVE YA’LL. This was requested by @allurajarren​ a while ago and I am so so sorry it took so long! I’ve made a few changes haha I hope you like it uwu 

Also, this might come as a weird surprise which might not even be welcome but Mineta isn’t such a bad person in this? Although I do hate his guts lol

Word count: 4461

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, reader with a plant quirk

You’ve had a lot of people call you delicate in the past. 

You hated the word. You hated everything that represented it, you hated being correlated with it, you practically hated it because it reminded you of how weak you were—your mind had already been overridden with the ideology that your weakness wasn’t just because of your quirk, but it manifested within your very psyche. 

You hated when they called you delicate because you knew it was true.

Yet, you strove on. A part of you wanted to prove people wrong because so what if your quirk was plant-based? So what if you were like some comic-book villain? So what if your quirk had many weaknesses? That didn’t mean you couldn’t be strong, right?

After all, you had gotten into U.A, you couldn’t be a complete failure, right?

You kept holding yourself going despite how difficult things were. People from your middle school deemed that you wouldn’t hurt a soul, and someone like you becoming a hero made no sense whatsoever? Your entire body ached with the failed expectations of your friends, family, peers from middle school, who only expected you to fail—and getting into U.A., did very little to make you feel proud. The only solace you found was jotting your thoughts into your diary, which remained the stronghold of your psyche—the very exoskeleton that kept you standing on difficult days.

Your diary was a kind of psychological exoskeleton that protected you from pain and contained your anxieties, but just like the skin of a snake, it only could hold on for a bare minimum of time; your mind always ends up cracking under pressure or hollowed out by time—and will keep growing back again and again, until you developed a more sophisticated emotional structure, held up by a strong and flexible spine, built less like a fortress than a cluster of treehouses.

Your insecurity dragged on and you believed you would never be able to overlook it, until your eyes landed on Midoriya Izuku.

The boy had you floored from the second you saw him on your orientation, his speed, agility, tenacity, his willingness to keep pushing despite how it was hurting him, everything about him reminded him of a part of your brain that kept pushing you, that kept telling you that you could dream too, that you could be where he is now. 

It wasn’t love, but more of an innocent curiosity that had you itching to watch more of how Midoriya conquered people’s expectations of him. From the very second how he threw the baseball using his fingers, and to how he managed to come fourth in the cavalry battle, you just couldn’t look away. You obviously jotted these points down in your diary, and you were aware of how your diary was slowly turning into a book where you jotted down whatever you noticed about him—what could be his weaknesses, what could be his strengths, his quirks other than breaking bones, what fascinated him and what of him fascinated you. There was quite a lot, indeed.

When you were leaving class one evening, you noticed how his arm was limp by his side.

     “Midoriaya-kun?” You questioned, tilting your head a bit.

He turned to you and his face reddened, a trait he often showcased with literally any girl he spoke to. You thought it was adorable, and you couldn’t quell the growing noise within your own chest.

     “Y-Yes?”

     “Is your arm okay?”

Midoriya let out a chuckle before rubbing the back of his neck rather bashfully, “Y-Yeah, it’s nothing. I overused my quirk again while training yesterday. I’m heading over to recovery girl now.”

You smiled at him before nodding and turning away, feeling the pace within your chest increase as you rephrased the entire conversation within your mind. You had finally spoken to him (not that you hadn’t before, but this was your very first conversation with the boy without the assistance of anyone else). You had spoken to Midoriya and hadn’t sounded like an absolute idiot!

     “(l/n)-san!”

Your heart froze at the mention of your name. Turning around with wide eyes, you noticed Izuku running toward you.

     “Y-Yes?” By now you were certain you had a crush on him.

What else could months of stalking lead to anyway?

     “You forgot your bag.”

Scratch the part where you told yourself you’d managed to have a conversation with Izuku without making a fool out of yourself. You had. You had made a fool out of yourself.

You weren’t normally a very shy person, but perhaps it was because of his bashful nature did your nature become quite timid as well. Letting out a breath, you moved to the back of the dorms, toward a small forest clearing. Present Mic had shown you this area, someplace you could practice your quirk without any hindrance. Walking over to your regular area, you let out a breath before putting your diary down, before turning to spot a sapling growing on the ground. Taking a deep breath, you reached forward, urging the sapling to move out of the ground, using your quirk to rapid its growth; the plant moved, grew in an instant before flowers bloomed on its stem, thorns pricking at the corners, and you manipulated its structure and made the thorns bigger, the stem girthier, and the flowers poisonous. 

But it took a lot longer than it did the day before. You wondered if it was because your mind was occupied, and you also took note of how you stood idle while you were doing it. Clicking your tongue, you got to work.

I can’t let this get to me, you thought, picturing Izuku’s face, knowing how hard he might be working to master his own quirk. I have to get stronger.

*

     “Midoriya shounen, you probably shouldn’t train so hard and break all of your bones at once.”

     “It’s not like I’m trying to break my bones.” He said, apologetically, as All Might led him inside the forest behind the dorms.

     “Perhaps if you tried segregating how much of your quirk you use while you use it? You aren’t allowing it to accelerate all over your hands, when you focus it on punches. The power is devastating, and can break you.”

I’m aware of that bit, Midoriya thought, letting out a sigh. He turns to an open clearing, noticing a weird sapling growing at the corner. Blinking twice, he walked over to the plant, but stopped before touching it. From one look, he could tell that the flowers were poisonous, the thorns were unusually bigger, and the stem of the plant itself looked like a rope.

     “Is something wrong?”

     “No, I think,” Midoriya swore he had seen this type of quirk before, “I think I’ve seen this somewhere.”

At this, All Might moved aside and spotted the plant that was in front of the boy. As if he had recognized it in an instant, All Might smiled before thinking of you fondly.

     “It must be (l/n) shoujo.”

Izuku’s eyes widened at the mere mention of your name. Ah, he thought before scrunching his eyes together, That’s right, I’ve not really seen her quirk in action before! As he turned to face All Might, Midoriya spotted a small book beside another tree, before walking over to it and picking it up. 

     “I think you should take a break for today, Midoriya shounen,” All Might said softly, “Pushing yourself too hard isn’t good either.”

Nodding with a smile, Midoriya held the book in his hands before heading to the dorm. In the meanwhile however, his curiosity got the better of him, and wanting to look for a name, he opened the first few pages of your diary. 

Sometimes, I think Midoriya-san just needs to rest his bones a bit.

His eyes widened at the words written down. Whoever this person was, they were talking about him! Turning to another page, he found more words of him, some were worried for him, some were highlighting his weaknesses (which he gladly made note of), and some were praising his strengths. A smile sat on his lips as he read what was written, no judgment in mind, before bumping into someone.

He blinked when he spotted Mineta. The purple head tilted his head at Midoriya’s smile before cheekily grinning at him.

     “That looks like a weird smile, Midoriya,” Mineta teased, “What’s gotten you smiling like me?”

A dark shade overshadowed Izuku’s face as he shook off Mineta’s words.

     “It’s definitely nothing like your smile, Mineta-kun,” He said softly, “But, it’s nothing. I was just... recollecting something.”

     “Hm,” Mineta scoffed before walking away, “I hope it’s not something stupid like a crush.”

Izuku chuckled before entering his dorm room. Leaving his school bag by the bed, he opened the diary once more before reading the words written about him again, from the beginning. 

It can’t be Uraraka-san, he thought before humming and tracing his finger over the writing. On second thought, why can’t it be Uraraka-san? Does that mean she watches me and takes note of me? Or is it Asui-san? She seems to care about my wellbeing too, right? 

A blush adorned his face as he thought, It can’t be Yaoyarozu-san or Jirou-san, definitely. They don’t seem the type to... He gulped, unable to even finish the thought.

Shooting up straight on his bed, Midoriya suddenly jerked up, almost certain he tore a tissue on his neck. His eyes were wide and his grip on the diary tightened just a little bit, and a yelp exited his mouth.

And just as the door opened, Midoriya exclaimed, “(l/n)-san!”

Mineta blinked at the door before closing it behind him quietly. I thought I was the freak, he thought as he walked back to his dorm. It’s a stupid crush. I’ll ask him about the damn homework some other time. 

*

     “Izuku-kun, will you kiss me?” Your face was inches away from his, your hand was wrapped around his wrist. 

Izuku could feel his cheeks burn at how close you were, your eyes were dead focused on his form. You weren’t looking anywhere else, and why were your lips so shiny? He gulped when he realized he had been looking at them, before you moved in and closed the gap. You kissed him like you had been dreaming of this for far too long, and your grip on his wrist merely tightened. And just as Izuku eased into the kiss, closing his eyes, nourishing the feeling it was giving him, he felt a strange warmth cascade on his skin.

His eyes shot open and the alarm noise was blaring into his ears. He lay there, ignoring the sound of the alarm, and he thought of you—how your lips felt against his, how your eyes were looking into his soul; he felt the warmth rush to his face again and he felt a bit ashamed, a bit relieved that it was indeed a dream, but mostly, Izuku felt like he had run a marathon in less than an hour.

He thanked the stars that it was a weekend, but he still had to go over and give you the diary. He bit his lip when he thought of you again, your eyes looking right into his, and without realizing it, Izuku bumped his feet against the bed and cussed.

Get it together, he thought before feeling the embarrassment rush to his features. Grabbing the diary, Izuku swallowed air before attempting to head to your dorm room; knowing full well that you might either be there or near the forest. He hasn’t actually spoken to you voluntarily, and while this realization made him feel weird inside, not to mention the wet dream he had of you, Izuku felt a strange excitement—like he was suddenly 5 years old and the girl he was sitting next to finally smiled at him.

He knocked twice on your door, but there was no answer. For a second, he wondered if he should just leave the diary in front of your door, but remembering a certain purple haired classmate of his, Izuku thought it was best if he handed it over to you personally. After all, he had no idea if you were going to be mad at him or snap at him for taking your book; maybe, you headed back where you left it, in hopes of finding it right there, but Izuku knew that he had stolen that chance away from you. Rushing to the forest, he spotted you there, frantically looking over at every inch, and a soft smile crept up to his lips. Slowly approaching you, Izuku held the book in his right hand while his left hand rubbed the back of his neck.

     “Um,” He alerted you, not wanting to scare you, “(l/n)-san?”

You jumped at the sound, turning to him with a strikingly red face; you looked troubled, but he only assumed that was because you thought your book was missing. Izuku slowly handed the book to you before offering an apologetic smile.

     “I—I’m really sorry! I found it here and I didn’t know whose it was! I was training with All Might, well, actually, I was about to train but he told me not to? So I had to leave, and while I was, I spotted the plant you made? At first, I didn’t know you’d made it—and All Might was the one who said—”

     “Midoriya-kun, thank you!”

Izuku’s eyes widened to spot you smiling at him, holding the book close to your chest. The sight of you warm and happy did a number on him, but he didn’t move. Suddenly, he recalled how big your eyes looked when you were about to kiss him and his face heated up. Moving back a couple inches, you were shocked to see how repulsed he suddenly looked.

Your face turned purple, “I-Is everything okay?”

He nodded vigorously before almost retching, “Y-Yeah! I... I have to go!”

Your heart fell at the sight. Suddenly, you didn’t want to care about why he made such a face at your smile. Perhaps, he had read your diary; maybe, he had been repulsed by how you would watch him. Maybe, it was because you were a delicate person, not in tune with who he associated to be, and that was why he was repulsed. Maybe, if you had been anyone but yourself, Izuku would have returned that smile. Your gradual need to voluntarily care less grew in your heart, but you were intrinsically kind—there was no way you could not care. You felt a growing desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.

But you had no friends you could trust. You could not even understand why something so trivial made you feel something so inexplicably deep. 

After the weekend, Izuku noticed you walk into class, a solemn look in your eyes. He wondered if it was because of how abruptly he had left that day, ignoring what you were about to say. He wanted to know right away what you were thinking, what was running through your mind. He wanted to know your every detail, wanting to jot down points in his own diary that he noticed about you. He suddenly hated that he needed to get to know you in order to continue this process, but with you just sitting there, looking sad and anguished, possibly over something he had done, left him feeling helpless and Izuku hated every breathing moment of it.

A twisted sense of frustration grew within him, with how long it takes to get to know someone—and how it required having to spend the first few weeks chatting in their psychological entryway, with each subsequent conversation like entering a different anteroom, each a little closer to the center of the house—wishing instead that you could start there and work your way out, exchanging your deepest secrets first, before easing into casualness, until you’ve built up enough mystery over the years to ask them where they’re from, and what they do.

He quickly shut his eyes when he realized that sensory overload blind the back of his eyes.

Walking back to his dorm, he noticed you wave at Tsuyu-chan and Uraraka-chan before heading to the back of the dorms. Instantly, he knew you were heading over there to train, and swallowing the rock in his throat, Izuku rushed over to you and cleared his throat, wanting not to startle you.

You turned around and your eyes widened, but you forced yourself not to react. Whatever these feelings were, you had long accepted them as being one-sided, so there was no point in pining.

     “Are you headed to train?” 

You nodded, confused at his query. 

     “Is it alright if I join you?”

You blinked, “You want to train with me?”

     “I’m sorry but,” He took a breath, “I read what you’d written about me. I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have looked, but you made so much sense about my quirk! I wanted to thank you for your observations, but I guess... I just... Will you please let me train with you?”

Izuku bowed in front of you and you stood there, floored. Scrambling to have him do anything but bow at you, you bowed back because you really had no idea how to respond to him. Izuku noticed before standing up straight, with you following right after. 

     “Okay. But, I... I’m not as good as you.”

     “Good as me? I’m not even good!” He laughed, following you to the clearing.

You turned to him with a deadpan, “Midoriya-san, your modesty is an insult.”

     “I-I’m sorry...” He rubbed the back of his head.

When you reached the area, you stood opposite to where he stood. Izuku took a deep breath before wondering what your offensive moves were like. You were often curious yourself, considering you hadn’t particularly trained with someone before. You were mainly a defensive fighter, but this was your first time wanting to fight offensive.

     “I’ll try to go on the offensive.” You said, pressing your hands together.

Midoriya nodded before looking at you intensely. The look made you nervous, but at the same time, it was devoid of any judgment. In an instant, Izuku’s legs were pinned to the ground he stood on, vines wrapping over his feet. He tried to move, but the grip could literally remove his legs. His eyes widened when he spotted you standing exactly where you were, and he wondered what was to come next.

In a second, he turned to his left and spotted a tree trunk coming right at his face, but Izuku moved, pulling his legs away from the vines, rushing toward you; however, what he didn’t expect was to trip over the trunk and fall face flat on to you.

He heard you whine, but he assumed that was because he had fallen over you. But it was when he opened his eyes did he realize what had actually happened. His face was cushioned on your chest, your breasts having covered his fall. Izuku felt a wire in his brain short-circuit, before pushing himself away from you, quickly scurrying to the other end of the forest. You slowly got up a moment later, and when he expected you to yell at him, berate him for being just another Mineta, you looked worried instead.

Eh?

     “Are you alright?”

Midoriya froze at how you sounded, your voice almost shaky. He could only nod. You let out a breath before sitting right where you were, a sullen look enveloping your features. 

     “I-I’m sorry—”

     “I thought I hurt you...”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

     “What?”

     “People usually call me delicate, but the thing is... I don’t have any control over my quirk. It’s a powerful quirk, I’m aware... But I can’t control it because I’m delicate. Weak. People were right. I’m no fit to be a hero. I can’t be like you, Midoriya-san, I can’t be stronger than this... I almost hurt you terribly. You’re already doing your best. And those scars on your hand... You have no idea how much that bothers me. Stupid, right?”

Not at all. What are you saying?

     “Someone like me shouldn’t dream so big. I took notes of you hoping I could be like you, but this just proves to me that I can’t. We’re so apart in skill, I just—”

     “(l/n)-san! Snap out of it!”

Your eyes widened to see Izuku yell at you. You paused, before waiting for him to finish.

     “You’re not weak! You’re anything but weak. Your quirk, it’s one of the most beautiful quirks I’ve ever seen! And your precision! You don’t know it, but this quirk is killing me the more I use it and controlling it is hard, I’ll admit. But if I had the dexterity that you do, I’d be a lot stronger. I’m not strong. I’m anything but,” He got up before moving to you. Bending down to your level, Izuku offered you a hand and brought you up to a standing position. “You’re really strong, (l/n)-san. You don’t see it.”

You teared up at his words, but blinked them away.

     “And about people calling you delicate in the past...” You couldn’t ignore the feeling of his hand over yours. “I know that it’s hard to not let it get to you, but trust me, you are going to make an amazing hero.”

You wanted to hug him but you held yourself back. You smiled to yourself, feeling the back of your eyelids burn again, but you just let yourself look at Izuku’s hand in yours, feeling absolute joy rush into your features. Looking up at him, you smiled once more. Izuku was already smiling, but a string in his heart tore as he recollected something.

Izuku-kun, will you kiss me?

His face suddenly reddened and he pulled away, causing you to blink once again. He didn’t look repulsed, he looked... shy? Nodding a couple of times, he scooted away from the area, leaving you behind.

*

For an entire week, he wondered if he had blown things off to a point where he couldn’t ever fix them.

Sitting in the common room, he laid his head in between his legs and groaned, the couch feeling heavy against his body. Mineta and Kaminari spotted their friend being an absolute grouch before Mineta sighed and walked over to him. 

     “What’s up, man?” 

Izuku sighed before shaking his head. 

     “I screwed up.”

Mineta rolled his eyes, “Screwed up things with (l/n)?”

The green haired male instantly looked up at the smaller boy who presented a rather unamused expression in his face.

     “H-How did you...?”

     “Only the both of you look like you’re dying so, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots. Also,” He grinned, “You were screaming her name out the last time I saw you.”

Izuku remembered that episode and pretended not to hear Mineta.

     “Just go talk to her, don’t be a wimp when it comes to matters of the heart!”

I thought he was just a regular pervert, Midoriya thought with wonder. Maybe there’s more to Mineta, after all—

     “And tell me how her breasts feel like—”

     “Good day, Mineta-kun.”

Letting out a breath, he rubbed the back of his neck, wondering why he lets the image of you kissing him breach his every interaction with you. He bit his lip before spotting you heading to the clearing again, to train in silence and solitude. He missed interacting with you, and he wondered where this guilt came from.

Following after you, he noticed the way you walked; brisk, yet smooth. He watched you train, moving vines and branches effortlessly, a lot quicker than before. In just a week, you had managed to excel so much that it amazed him. He didn’t want to be seen watching you, so he hid behind a tree and just stared in wonder. There was a kind of unnoticed excellence that carried on around you, and Izuku noticed this every day—the hidden talent of how you effortlessly carried on being yourself—you would be renowned as a masterpiece if only you’d been appraised by the cartel of popular taste, who assume that brilliance is a rare and precious quality, accidentally overlooking a buried jewel such as yourself, who may not be flawless but are still somehow perfect.

It was at this point, when his eyes widened slowly did he realize that he liked you. 

And boy, did he really, really want to kiss you.

Gulping, he got up to address you like a regular person would, but he tripped on absolutely nothing and fell face flat in front of him, now revealing him to be a creepy stalker. Please don’t think I’m Mineta—

     “You’re nothing like him, Midoriya-kun. Are you okay?”

I guess I spoke aloud, he thought before getting up and looking at you.

     “I... I’m really sorry.”

You shook your head, “I understand that it must be hard to face me. I must make you angry.”

Eh?

     “I understand if you think I’m weird—”

     “(l/n)-san, I think you’re bloody brilliant.”

Your eyes widened at his blatant observation. 

     “What?”

     “I’m running away from you because... because I...” His face was quite possibly burning him, “I like you.”

     “I like you too.” 

He looked at you like you were joking, but apparently you were not.

     “Oh.”

     “Yes.”

You two just stood there, not knowing what to say. You moved a bit, suddenly feeling shy under his intense gaze.

     “Why... Why were you avoiding me then?”

Because I had a dream where you kissed me, he thought before breathing out, noticing the way your eyes widened and face reddened. Oh god.

Don’t tell me I said it aloud!

     “Midoriya-san... You... What?”

Moving over to you, he grabbed your hands in what felt like the most random and instantaneous reaction he has ever had, and pressed his lips to yours, right before muttering an apology. A second later, he could feel you kiss back, the hand that was free was on his cheek now. 

Pulling back, he let out a breath in relief. 

     “I like you, Midoriya-san.” 

     “Call me Izuku.”

     “Izuku-kun,” you tilted your head sweetly, “Will you kiss me?”

He turned to you with a bright red face, shocked out his mind before he spotted you giggling a second later. 

     “Oh, you’re teasing me, I see.”

     “Glad you caught on.”

[lupinsx]

All That Matters

masterlist

Pairing: Harry Potter x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Harry and Y/N have been secretly dating for the past year. Unfortunately, the reveal doesn't exactly go as planned.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Some uses of profanity/language, mild kissing.

a/n — Hello! I'm going to be starting a tag list, so if you'd like to be notified whenever I publish new works, dm me. On that note, I hope you enjoy the story!

——————————

Everything felt muted.

The conversations lingering in the air filling the Great Hall, the sound of utensils hitting against plates and bowls in a rushed manner, and the excited squeals of the newly sorted first years. The area was filled with various noises, but you didn't hear one bit of it. You didn't choose to hear one bit of it. Instead, your brain was preoccupied with something of much greater importance to you.

Your gaze was kept on a certain shaggy-haired Gryffindor, sitting too far away for your liking. Your eyes followed the small movements he made to put emphasis on his words, the way his cheeks puffed like a chipmunk as he ate, and how his eyes would light up in fascination whenever a topic of interest was brought up.

Until you could be by his side, observing him left you contented enough. As long as Harry Potter's beaming smile was insight, you were okay.

"Hello? Earth to Y/N?"

A hand waving in front of your face took you out of your trance. Snapping your neck to the side, you were met with a displeased look from Draco Malfoy. You gave him a weak grin and took a bite of your steak.

"You weren't even listening to me. I was talking about my trip to Italy," he pouted, flicking your forehead with a slight scoff. You scowled at his behaviour and nudged his shoulder, playfully bumping him into the person next to him.

"I was listening," you responded, fighting the urge to look back to the Gryffindor table. You didn't want him to notice where your gaze was previously set. The chaos that would ensure was far too deadly for you to even consider letting him know.

With a suspicious glance, he dropped the accusation. "Fine. I believe you. Now, where was I?"

Draco went on about his vacation for a couple of minutes. You kept your attention on him, hesitant about looking away once more. However, the feeling of eyes boring into your head made you quickly divert your gaze.

There, sitting in the Gryffindor table, was Harry, very clearly ignoring the conversation around him. Once you finally looked back at him, he gave you a small smile and an accompanying wink before turning back to his friends. He then stood up from his spot, exiting the Great Hall with an air of nonchalance.

The cue was understood loud and clear.

"Hey Draco, I'm gonna head to the bathroom. I'll see you at the common room, yeah?"

As quickly as you spoke, you rose to your feet and got up from the bench. Before he could even respond, you were out of the hall, heading rapidly down the corridor and up the long flight of stairs.

A wink was the signal you two established near the beginning of your relationship. Whenever one would wink at the other, they'd find a way to leave and meet on the sixth-floor corridor. If they couldn't exit their situation, they would go into a fit of coughs to notify the other. It seemed like a foolproof system for you two. It was conspicuous enough to be noticeable by the other but subtle as to not gain further attention.

By the time you reached the designated meeting spot, you were lightly panting, tired by your efforts from sprinting up the staircase. However, once an amused chuckle was heard from behind you, all exhaustion was forgotten as you turned on your heel with a gleeful expression.

"Harry!" you exclaimed, running into his arms. He caught you effortlessly, arms holding your lower back protectively as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Hey Y/N," Harry mumbled, face buried in the crook of your neck. You held on to him tightly, inhaling the scent you missed most. It has been two long months since you last saw him, so the euphoria felt was especially evident.

Releasing his face from your neck, he finally gave you the long-awaited kiss. It was sweet, though undeniably eager, conveying just how much you two missed each other within the short seconds it lasted.

Once you pulled your face away, leaving a final peck on his lips, he flashed you a grin. "God, how I missed you and your soft lips."

"I missed you too. And your thin lips," you teased with a light chuckle. He faked a pout and pushed your waist to climb off him. Your laugh only intensified as you stood to your feet and ruffled his hair with an expression saying I'm only joking.

"How was your summer?" he asked, leaning against the wall as he kept his gaze fixed on you. You took a long sigh before replying, lips curved into a small frown while you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Positively dreadful. I don't remember ever being that bored before."

"Is it because I wasn't there?"

"Don't be cocky," you said with a wide grin. He shot you a joking frown for a moment before you quickly spoke under your breath, "But yes, I really wanted you there."

With an idiotic smile on his face matching yours, he spoke with pink-tinted cheeks. "How about we both stay at Hogwarts for the winter break?"

"Deal."

And with that, you shot into his arms once more, this time deciding to keep your legs on the floor. He laughed at your eagerness and wrapped his arms around your waist before pulling his head down to meet your lips for the second time today.

As you basked in the comfort of Harry's presence, a vague figure suddenly appeared in the corner of your vision. Your eyes opened wider as you glanced to the side with your lips still attached to his. There, you could make out the faint outline of a particularly short student retracting its leg from the corner of the hall visible by you. It suddenly disappeared, presumably running down the corridor connected to yours.

You immediately pulled away from the kiss, head whipping to the side to confirm you didn't imagine it. However, the current emptiness of the hall and the absence of footsteps made the possibility likely.

With a concerned expression, Harry asked, "What's wrong Y/N? You look troubled."

Turning your head towards him, you gave him a reassuring smile as you reached your hand up to stroke his cheek with your thumb. "Sorry, I thought I saw someone run down that hall."

"Well then, should we part ways just in case?"

"I suppose we should," you replied with a frown. Noticing your expression drop, Harry ruffled your hair and gave you a small peck on your forehead.

"How about we meet by the Great Lake tomorrow after our last class?" he suggested. You nodded your head rapidly. You cherished those little moments of privacy you got with him when you don't have to worry about gossiping onlookers or the judgment of your friends. Times, when it’s just you and Harry, are the times that make Hogwarts not entirely horrible.

"I guess I'll head out now. See you at breakfast." You then departed with eyebrows furrowed in dejection. As you approached the intersection between the two halls, you noticed another leg disappearing from the corner on your right. However, it was a brief glance through your peripheral vision, so you doubted a person was actually there.

But what if somebody did see us?

You quickly brushed the thought aside, hoping it was merely a pesky first year wanting to explore the castle if there even was a person who saw. Regardless, there wasn't much to be done now. You just hoped whoever they were, they would keep their mouth shut about you and Harry. Drama at the beginning of the school year was not something very desirable to you.

Attempting to block off your paranoia, you made a beeline to the Slytherin common room. Once arrived, you were met with a concerned gaze from Draco who sat at the couch playing wizard chess with Blaize.

"Y/N? Where were you? And why do you look upset?" Draco interrogated, his attention suddenly off the moving chess pieces. You were quick to raise your expression at that, relaxing your eyebrows and flashing him a reassuring grin.

"I'm alright. Just took a minor detour from the bathroom, that's all."

With a questioning glance, he accepted your response. "Okay. Are you tired?"

You slowly nodded, a yawn escaping your lips momentarily. Draco's expression softened for a moment before he looked back to the chessboard and said nonchalantly, "Then go to bed."

"I'll go do that," you replied with a light chuckle. Turning on your heel, you headed towards the girl's dormitory with a smile on your face as you recalled the events from earlier.

Safe to say, you couldn't wait for tomorrow evening to come.

~~~

The clock couldn't possibly tick any slower.

It was the first official day of classes, and you already felt done with the school year.

You were excited to see your schedule at breakfast that day. You had most of your classes with Draco, and the majority with Gryffindor as well. Although, that seemed to be the highlight of the day since the rest felt positively drab.

Each 45-minute class felt like hours to you. Perhaps it was the fact that you weren't accustomed to school yet. Maybe even the immense workload already assigned in Potions.

Or the fact that you would finally be able to talk to Harry later in the day.

It was distracting, to say the least, trying to focus in class with a certain shaggy-haired boy sitting a couple of desks away. You were glad the first week meant minimal learning because you were sure you retained virtually nothing the teachers said. Admittedly, the syllabus was far less fascinating than Harry was. Though, he seemed to think the same for you, as he kept eyeing you just as much. It was almost a game for you two; who could steal the most glances while pretending to listen to the introductions.

He clearly won.

"I expect you all to read chapter one in your books as an introduction to the Goblin Rebellions," said Mr. Binns, failing the notice the groans of discontent, "and we shall continue our discussion tomorrow. Dismissed."

It was at that moment when the bell rang, signalling the end of classes for the day. You felt your heart begin pumping faster than usual as you slung your bag on your shoulder. Finally, you thought. I could finally talk to Harry. You weren’t usually this excited just to see him, but going a whole summer with only letters to keep your company changes your attitude towards the smallest of meetups.

You decided to travel the long way to get there, allowing him enough time to reach the lake without suspicion. You went to the opposite end of the school before exiting, walking around the grounds until you eventually saw the Great Lake and the boy sitting near it.

A smile crept onto your face as stopped in your tracks before running over to him. Noticing your figure approaching, he stood up from his seat in front of the tree and opened his arms. He was quick to wrap them around your frame once you crashed into his.

"Hello again," you breathed into his sweater. A throaty laugh escaped his mouth as he planted one of his much-loved forehead kisses onto your bare face.

"Hey darling," he replied with an endearing smile. "I- uh, I actually have something to tell you."

You nodded in response, still within the comfort of his arms. He didn't immediately begin speaking, but instead took a moment to gather his words while he rubbed circles on your back with his thumb. It was calm, and you liked it. It was the little moments with him like these which put you into a state of peace.

However, it wasn't long before the tranquillity was abruptly shattered with a roaring yell.

"Potter!"

Your eyes widened the second the familiar tone flooded your ears. Swiftly, you released your grip on Harry and jumped back, head facing down rather than at the angry blond standing not too far away.

"What the absolute fuck are you doing with Y/N?"

Harry's mouth opened and closed repeatedly as he struggled to find the words to explain himself at the moment. Draco was furious, and not even you dared to put fuel into the fire by giving him provocative remarks. You just hoped your boyfriend had thought the same.

Unfortunately, you remembered you're dating a Gryffindor. Daring bastards, they are.

As Harry got over the initial shock of being approached by an angry Draco, a playful smirk spread across his face, sending danger signals to your brain. This was not about to end well.

"I believe I was about to kiss her until you interrupted."

"Excuse me?"

The two boys now stood head-to-head, Draco's hand gripping on Harry's collar threateningly. He looked like he was ready to swing at the boy holding a nonchalant smile, only, the sight of you standing distressed nearby stopped him from causing any injury.

Letting go of his collar aggressively, Draco redirected his attention from Harry. Now under his harsh gaze, you lifted your head to stare him directly in the eye. You figured you might as well come clean about the relationship rather than pathetically attempt to cover it up now.

However, just as you opened your mouth, a loud shriek broke the tense atmosphere.

"Harry! Are you okay?"

From the top of the hill stood Hermione and Ron, faces conveying worry and anger. They saw Harry's messed up clothing clearly gripped harshly and two notorious Slytherins standing nearby. A recipe for disaster, essentially.

Storming down the grassy hill, Hermione gazed at his attire concerningly while Ron trailed behind her, staring questioningly at you and Draco. Harry was shocked by their arrival, and while he forgot to speak for a moment, the two friends faced the Slytherins with a glare able to kill.

"What do you two want with Harry?" Ron asked accusingly. Draco snorted at the irony of their protectiveness, while your eyes widened as you waved your hands rapidly in reassurance.

"Nothing, we aren't trying to cause trouble—" you were suddenly cut off by Draco stepping forward to the defensive pair with a glare to match theirs.

"I want Potter to leave Y/N alone."

His comment caused a near uproar in response. Harry snapped back to reality and approached Draco with a fuming expression while his friends stared in confusion. Meanwhile, your head whipped towards him in annoyance. The line between protective and controlling was a thin one but boy does Draco walk it hard.

"You can't decide that for her!" Harry practically shouted in his face. While Hermione and Ron stood bewildered by the conversation going on in front of them, Draco only became more cross.

The conflict was beginning to leave you exasperated. You hate that argument is necessary in the first place. You and Harry are happy; shouldn't that be all that matters?

Draco never intended to try to control you and your relationships, but when provoked by his arch-nemesis, all of his rationality suddenly goes to dust. "Yeah? And who says—"

"What is this even about?" Ron interjected, causing three heads to snap to his direction. With a mocking chuckle, Draco pointed at Harry with an accusing finger.

"I just found out your precious little friend here is dating Y/N!"

Hermione gasped, while Ron looked horrified. Your expression suddenly turned sour at the sight of their reactions.

"Yeah yeah, big deal. Why do you two look scared? Is it because I'm a Slytherin?" you muttered with a slight glare. You didn't want to be unnecessarily mean towards them and uphold the typical Slytherin stereotype, but how were you supposed to stay civil when they react like this at the news? Shock is a given, but the look of near disgust was uncalled for.

Harry's eyes softened at you once he saw how troubled you looked. He knows you enough to realize that you mask your sadness with anger or sarcasm, so seeing the glare and sneer on your face made him put aside his anger for Draco temporarily. Some things matter more to him then petty issues.

"Hermione, Ron, I'm sorry I haven't told you this before, but please respect my decision. She's a great person— no, an amazing person, and I just want to say that I'm going to continue dating her whether you two like it or not."

Their expressions morphed into admiration as they stared at the newly matured Harry. With a gentle nod, Ron pulled him into a bear hug with Hermione joining in shortly after.

"I can't say I'm not shocked, but who are we to say you can't date her? We're happy you're happy," Hermione mumbled inside the hug.

While you and Draco stood in front of them awkwardly, you nudged his side with a playful smirk. As he turned to you with a scowl, you gestured to the group hug.

"See Draco, that's how you're supposed to respond," you teased, ignoring the ill-tempered expression on his face. It no longer fazed you as it would to most.

"I'm sorry," he said in a sarcastic but light-hearted tone, "but they don't hate you as I hate him. Plus, those Gryffindors are insanely cheesy with the whole group hug."

While Draco faked a gag as they pulled apart, you lightly snickered under your breath. Thankfully, Draco appeared to be less mad at the revelation after Harry's speech, and his friends seemed to approve of the relationship.

"So, are we all good now?" you asked, flipping your gaze between Draco and then Hermione and Ron. While Harry's friends nodded reassuringly, Draco was hesitant to do the same.

"Please?" you mumbled to him, staring at your best friend with pleading eyes. You knew you didn't require his approval to date Harry, but you desperately wanted to be with him while maintaining your friendship with Draco. It would kill you to lose him consequentially.

After staring at you with an unreadable gaze, then directing his narrowed eyes to Harry for a moment, he released a sigh before nodding in approval. A smile widened on your lips as you immediately looked towards your boyfriend.

Without a second thought, your legs carried you towards him while your arms went around his neck. Like muscle memory, his arms snaked around your waist in an instant. With his face buried in your neck, he mumbled into it, "At least now they know."

You looked up at him with a small smile. "At least they do."

"Eww, can't you wait until we leave to be romantic and shit?" Draco groaned from his position. He then turned on his heel to trudge back up the hill. Rolling their eyes at the blond boy's attitude, Hermione and Ron soon followed after, letting the couple finally be alone.

When it became silent again at last, you then remembered what was promised earlier. "Harry, you needed to tell me something?"

"Oh yeah, that," Harry muttered under his breath, face becoming flushed as he released you to scratch his neck awkwardly. You giggled at his expression as you stared at him intently, him not returning the gaze as he looks down at the grass.

"There were two things I wanted to say actually. The first, ironically enough, was going to be me asking whether or not you think we should finally tell people about our relationship."

You snorted, patting his shoulder in a joking manner. "Since that's already done with, what else?"

"Well uh- I wanted to say," he then paused for a moment, looking up to meet your gaze.

"I love you."

With a smile stretched as wide as your mouth could handle, a light chuckle escaped your lips as you held his cheeks in your hand. "I love you too, Harry."

After the heartfelt confessions of love, you two decided to spend the rest of the evening watching the sunset. Your heart felt full as you glanced at him sitting next to you.

The chatter faintly heard from the castle, the light sounds of water moving in the lake, the melodic chirps from nearby birds getting ready for their rest. None of it was heard. None of it you chose to hear. Because when Harry Potter's messy hair, circle-rimmed glasses, and playful grin was in sight, nothing else felt important anymore.

To you, everything else just felt muted. It was only you and Harry. And that was all that matters.

——————————

a/n — Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, and reblog to show support and send some feedback or requests in my inbox! Have a nice day/evening :)