#i just really really like those old-school hand-painted movie posters…

[yuyu-finale]

tristamp but as vintage sci-fi movie posters 🎥

edit: several people have asked for prints so they are now available here and here!

[the-trans-folk-witch]

The Green Devil of the Ozarks: The little green fairy of... moonshine?

It was 2005. I was with my grandfather in an old shop similar to "dick's 5 and 10" outside of Branson, Missouri. This is where The Green Devil caught my eye.

My grandfather frequented little old fashioned stores like this. He loved collecting all kinds of gadgets. Old movie posters, salt water taffy, and soda parlor paraphenalia. It was heaven on earth to him in this little corner of the world that was stuck in an older Ozark time. His house wasn't too dissimilar to a crackerbarrel gift shop. All kinds of wooden toys and dolls. He loved his little knickknacks. But on that day he found it. A copy of an old French absynthe poster with "the little green fairy" smirking at the viewer. He had to have it. It was being sold for $8! frame included! If only the seller knew the true value of it. Or how it's mere existence was breaking so many copyright laws.

Maurin Quina, as it's named, is a French apéritif advertisement painted by Leonetto Cappiello in 1906. The drink was made illegal soon after its creation. But this poster is now being reused today. It was not well known in the US at all back then. Not even in the 2000's. but my grandfather being a moonshiner, absynthe fan, and art history drop out, knew all about it.

My grandfather was not as religious as the rest of my family. But he sure prayed to God when he was trying to avoid the law. He was selling homemade moonshine without any sort of license or proper knowledge of sanitary practices. It was an arte form he learned from his father that I never had the pleasure of learning.

He decided to hang this new poster up in his storm cellar where he kept his aging bottles of various liquors. Over time it developed A life of its own. My grandfather would kiss his hand and place it on the poster of the little green fairy after every jar was sealed or sales were made. I Don't think he saw this as devil worship so much as just a simple good luck ritual. Not too disimilar to his high school basketball team kissing the image of their mascot before a game. He always practiced these superstitions even though he didn't seem to really believe in them.

Fast forward to today. I'm an Ozark trad witch. So of course I now work with this image as if it is the devil himself. He is a devil that rules spring and summer. Drunkenness, poison, lunacy, fairies, and nature. He is associated with law breaking, alcohol, healing, harming, and fertility. With Easter coming up He is on my mind heavily. A time I feed him red dyed eggs symbolizing the blood of christ and the blood of good Christians. I feed him this with intentions of causing those which share the eucharist to lust. Poisoning the church so to speak. I attend mass in spirit form and dip my blessed turkey wish bone down in the communion wine. The turkey is symbolic of love in the Ozarks. And the wishbone is horned like the stang, and my devil. Midnight mass on Easter is filled with drunkenness and sex. Those consuming this spiritually poisoned wine are consumed with lust for others in the church. An orgy ensues in the great house of God. Only for all members to awaken Easter morning with no memory of the incestuous rituals performed with their brothers and sisters in christ. To do such things in the house of God and not confess them (due to not remembering) is damanble. This is my goal as a witch. To bring the witches Sabbath to the church and to pervert the souls of good men.

By turkey wand and lustful stang I complete my work in the devils name.

A call to the Green Devil:

"Envy is his name. Drunkeness and poisoning are his arte. He is Lord of the little people and plants alike; come little green fairy and bring your lust and your lunacy. Green devil rise from the roots below like a serpent. Green devil come down from the tree tops like a booger in the night who takes its flight. Join me in this witching hour oh beast of the green and hear my call to the wild. By my witches flame may it be so."

Look out for a post on the black and red devils later this year. Our horned one changes with the seasons

[dumb-teambucciarati-headcanons]

What their rooms look like

(So in my headcanons au sort of thing they all live together, like giorno and Abbacchio have their own apartments but when there is lots of work to get done for passions they just stay with Bruno and the others. Also turtle polnareff is there I just fail to mention him and I’m sorry for my sins. Also this is a everyone loves universe because I’m still grieving from what actually happened and I haven’t quite gotten to the acceptance stage.)

Giorno: has the largest room out of all of them. It’s always neat, except for his desk that is covered in paperwork. He has a big windowsill that has pillows it in and plants as well (made my Goldie). He has either hot pink or dark blue sheets and pillowcases on his bed, and his blanket is white with gold flowers. He has a big fish tank with golden experience fish in it (instead of throwing his trash away he turns it into fish or plants). He has a cork board on his wall that has his schedule on it, and a drawing of him and Dio he made when he was a kid.

Bruno: his room is medium sized. Also has paperwork on his desk, but it’s neat. The rest of his room is messy though. Like not in a sloppy way, like it’s organized and clean. But the placement of everything is messy, if you know what I mean. His dresser is in the middle of the room, in front of his desk. He sleeps on a mattress on the floor. But it’s organized. His bedspread is black, white and gold. There are zippers everywhere because of sticky fingers. He has a dead plant on his desk that he named Matthew. Matthew has a zipper in his dead/dried out stem. He only really goes in his room to sleep, he likes to take his paperwork outside and work on it there. He used to go in his room to water Matthew but then the whole “mission from the boss” thing happened. Whoops.

Abbacchio: his room is medium sized, and very dark. The walls are painted a dark purple and his bedspread is black. He has a sign on his door that says “don’t fucking bother me”. He has a really old TV and a bunch of dvds with cop movies on them that he will watch when he is drunk. He has a really fluffy purple rug that he usually ends up sleeping on instead of his bed. Like he just falls down on it and sleeps. He has a sonic the hedgehog stuffed animal that sits in the corner of his room under his bed, staring at him every night. He has a small desk with a mirror and lots of makeup. He has a ton of ramen noodles in his closet that he keeps there so Narancia and Mista don’t take them. He never opens his windows.

Mista: his room is medium sized. He sleeps on a couch instead of a bed. He has a hamster cage, the type with those tube things that can attach other hamster cages. It goes all around his room, and the pistols live in it. He has clothes everywhere on his floor. His room smells like axe body spray and dirty socks, if it were a perfume it would be called “middle school boys locker room”. He has a big screen TV. He has a calendar on his wall, and every 4th of the month has “bad day” written on it. He has like twelve nerf guns and his room is covered in nerf bullets, he shoots at the pistols who, despite how stands are not supposed to be effected by non-stand related things, always get hurt when he shoots them.

Narancia: he has the smallest room out of everybody. Bruno made him give his room to Trish, so he sleeps in this big closet that also doubles as the broom closet. There’s enough space to fit a mattress and a TV, so Narancia wasn’t super upset about it. He has paper airplanes hanging on his ceiling, and lots of posters all over his room. He has a bunch of orange and purple blankets and a stuffed monkey that has a banana in its hand. And he has like almost every gaming device. He stays in his room and plays video games for most of his time off. Whenever someone needs the broom or mop they just knock on his door and he throws it out. Sometimes he will sleep in the others rooms. Him and Mista like to pull all nighters and watch movies and eat chips and dips, and Abbacchio is a good listener when he is upset about something and he has a comfy rug, and sometimes he will fall asleep while he is doing math in Fugos room.

Fugo: has a smaller room, which he prefers. It’s full of books. He has a strawberry theme going in his room, and even has a strawberry plant in his window. His bedspread is purple checkered and he has a pink build a bear that smells like strawberries. He has a weighted blanket, like the heaviest weight. His walls are littered with covered up holes. His desk has a bunch of fidget toys on it. He has a stress ball filled with with sand that he really likes, and he gad a bowl filled with kinetic sand that he finds helps calm him down after he has gotten the rage out.

Trish: has a smaller room that used to be Narancias. He painted Tony the Tiger on the wall and she hasn’t painted over it because he begged her not to. She has a really soft mattress and lots of pink pillows. Tons of stuffed animals! She has one of those circle chairs that are big enough to sleep on. Like Abbacchio, she has a desk full of make up. She stole some of Abbacchios eyeliner and hopes he never notices. She has a pink Nintendo switch lite that she plays animal crossing on every day.

Turtle Polnareff: he just stays in giornos room and tells him stories about public restrooms in Egypt. Also “that drawing you made when you were a kid reminds me of a vampire me and my friends killed back in the day”.

[sawyer-chambers]

tessa-fox​:

“True”, Tessa conceded. “You’ll be relieved to hear that the cells are the smallest place I have ever lived in; and the worst” Her room at the orphanage had been only a bit larger than the cells, though it was a lot more welcoming than the steel bars. She had been so glad to get out of the shared room when she was 14 that she would have accepted far smaller. That was another part of her life she had tried to forget about, only that the mention of Thai food brought back those memories. At least it was a good one.

“That’s why I’m surprised you got him in the first place” Finally, she dared to step closer, stretching out a flat hand for the dog to sniff on. A chuckle escaped her lips as she felt his warm breath and wet nose against it. “It looks brand new here, almost as if you were trying to sell it” Tessa didn’t judge. She wasn’t good at being orderly and only managed because she did not have much to begin with. And she had known this about Sawyer, at least unconsciously, or else she assumed she would have been more surprised by it. “What’s your name?”, she whispered to her new furred friend.

“Excuse you?” Finally. It finally felt fucking normal to speak to him again. Tessa wondered how long that would last as she rose and feigned indignation. “You should know best that I never mouth off and always go to my classes” But it wasn’t long until she had to laugh. “Well, something like that. I’m sure this says more about you than about me, anyway” She smiled and looked back at him and poof. It was gone again. Looking in his eyes, she remembered exactly why she had felt so nervous. She remembered when she hugged him – even though she wasn’t quite herself. It felt good and that must have somehow been the truth. At least she found him attractive now; something she had failed to notice before.

“A tour sounds good”

But that was besides the point. She was just here to make sure they were still friends; that he wasn’t feeling awkward about last time. Right?

"That does come as a relief," he conceded. The thought of living in one of those cells could have given him a rash. He was just not used to being out of his comfort zone. Back home, his bedroom was the sort filled with memories and items that were dear to him. Jerseys from his days in the track team, the swimming team and the tennis team. He missed the latter. "You don't play tennis, do you?" She wouldn't have had to be good at it. He just wanted to play again, and he also wanted to spend more time with her. "Sorry, that's a bit random. I was thinking of home too," he gave her a rare smile and pushed the door that led to the rest of his apartment.

He ignored the one leading to the playroom, not exactly in the mood for coming off as a creep.

"His name is Lafayette," he told her from over his shoulder, while he texted the Thai place to have a delivery in the next half hour. "Oh of course, how could I forget I'm talking to Ms. Valedictorian of Summa Cum Laude," he teased.

The corridor was not too decorated, but he'd framed old maps of New York City and had them hanging from the wall here. Pushing the door to the bathroom, he figured it was best if she knew where to go. He'd added a frame here too, and a Nouvelle Vague movie poster was on the wall, color coordinated with the wall paint color. "A lot nicer than the ones downstairs," he commented. There was no malice to his words, it was a simple statement. "I'm glad I left the common showers in high school," he added, leaving the room to keep the tour going.

There was not much else worth seeing. His bedroom and the dressing room next to it. She'd find some more bookshelves, as those in the living room were well stocked up but while he kept all his textbooks and some extra ones that saved him trips to the library, she'd fine the fiction ones here.

A lot were from the likes of Stephen King, the sort he bought while going on trips abroad, to read in the plane, on the beach or back at the hotel room when he could not find sleep, but a few he'd bought to have something to talk about with her. Tessa was the sort of person who read literature instead of books and Sawyer could only rely on his English classes as far as his knowledge of those was concerned. He'd tried Austen, but it wasn't really his thing. He figured he'd eventually find classics he liked but the copy of A room with a view on his bed side table hadn't moved in a week or two. "So that would be my room," he cleared his throat and pushed himself aside. It wasn't too different from the rest. Squeaky clean and without a thing out of place.

"I'll go set the table, if you wanna wash your hands or whatever," it gave her time to take a look around, he figured and it gave him time to do what he had to do.

[chaeryybomb]

BRUTAL

pairings: female reader x best friend!jungwon

summary: they told you that these were the golden years, but to you "golden" was a rusting metal spray painted yellow. the story of a seventeen year old trying to survive high school when all you do is try your best. but your best friend jungwon makes it worth the while. 

genre: high school au, friends to lovers, fluff, tiny bits of angst if you squint, attempt at humour

featuring: jang wonyoung, kim sunoo & nishimura riki 

word count: 4.5k 

warnings: reader having a existential crisis most of the time, strong language, mentions of insecurity

the sour series masterlist

You slumped forward the moment the bell rang, letting your head hit the table. You could care less if a bruise would form on your forehead, you had much bigger things to worry about. Your teacher left the class wordlessly as the class was busy doing their own thing. And by that, everyone was buried nose deep in studying. You lifted your head to see the different books of the same topic scattered on your desk, a yellow highlighter balancing on the edge of your table.

Reaching over to grab the highlighter, you turned your head over to the side to look at your desk mate. Wonyoung sat there looking straight out from a k-drama, with her hair flowing down her back perfectly and her slender nimble fingers moving as she continuously wrote in her notebook. She was smart too, fluent in English and Korean, great at maths and science. And on top of that she was kind and friendly, everyone loved her. You did too, you had the honour of calling her your best friend. But sometimes you felt insecure around her, everything she did looked flawless and there you were just trying your best.

"Ack!" You yelped as you sat up straight, holding your forehead. Wonyoung rolled her eyes at you with a small smile on her lips, she had flicked your forehead to get you out of your thoughts.

Without taking her eyes off the textbook, she tapped your own workbook with her pen. Silently telling you to stop procrastinating. You pouted at her and looked at the clock, 10 minutes before lunch. Maybe a walk to the girl's bathroom would do you some good.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you whispered to Wonyoung. She nodded and smiled at you before you walked out.

As you strolled towards the girl's bathroom, you passed by the bulletin board outside your class. A bright blue poster stood out with the words "ENJOY YOUR YOUTH" in white. Scoffing at the message, you continued on your way.

"I'm seventeen now, where's my fucking teenage dream?" You muttered to yourself. You were tired of waiting for your life to end up like a coming of age movie. Everyone told you that these were the golden years and you should enjoy your youth, but you swear to god if you hear another one of those cheesy sayings, you might just cry on the spot.

Reaching over to open the stall door, you halt in your actions when you heard familiar voices talking.

"I'm so worried for finals, my parents are gonna kill me if I fail English again," a girl complained. You hear the sound of tap water running. "How are you so calm during this time, Mirae?'

"What's the use of studying hard anyways," the second girl, Mirae, said. "We all know the top spots are gonna be taken by Jang Wonyoung and Yang Jungwon, I just study enough to pass."

The other girl snorted at her reply. "Imagine if those two got together, the power couple of the year," she suddenly said.

"Poor Y/N then, she's gonna be over shadowed by them."

"As if she already isn't. I almost forgot they were a trio until you mentioned Y/N," the girl laughed.

"What can I say? They're out of her league," Mirae joined in with her laughter.

The two voices faded away as you heard the door closed. Finally pushing the door open, you looked at your reflection. Your eyebrows knitted in annoyance and your face was morphed in a scowl. You washed your hands aggressively and poked the inside of your cheek. What bugged you was that they were right. You were the black sheep between Wonyoung and Jungwon. Both of them were smart and amazing, and you're just…you.

You love your best friends, you truly do. But you were constantly compared to them and you hated it. Everyone wanted them, you watched as guys tripped over to confess to Wonyoung and girls squealing when Jungwon smiled at them. The two of them always reassured you that you weren't beneath them but you were sick of their sympathy. You're so caught up in the news of who likes you and who hates them. You just wished people liked you more.

Storming out of the bathroom, someone accidentally ran into you and caused you to fell onto your butt. The student immediately stood up and scurried off, not bothering to even a mutter an apology. All I did was try my best and this is the thanks I get, you thought bitterly.

They said that these were the golden years, but you wished you could just disappear. God, it's brutal out here.

"Y/N, wait up!" Jungwon called after you.

You stopped in your tracks as you watched Jungwon waved goodbye to some students before jogging towards you.

"You heading to cram school today?" He asked you as the both of you fell into the same walking rhythm.

You shook your head, clasping your hands behind. "I moved it to Thursday instead, Wonyoung said I had to many things on Tuesday," you told him. Originally, you would be heading to the library to study before heading over to the cram school. But Wonyoung took one look at your schedule and decided that you did not had enough breaks, so she managed to convince you to take the Thursday slot instead. Thursdays are one of the days where you would not go to the library.

Jungwon seemed to be disappointed to find out that you had switched slots. Maybe he should changed slots too, but does he have any empty spots open for Thursday though? He'd have to check later. Instead, he coughed and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Do you wanna come over later? The new Demon Slayer movie is out," he offered, hoping that you'd accept.

Unfortunately, you once again shook your head. "Sorry Jungwon, I'd want to cram even more later. Finals are really creeping in and I can't afford to waste any time," you told him with a sad smile. As much as you would like to ditch the books and watch Demon Slayer, the glaring C on your last history paper was telling you otherwise.

You stopped walking when you had reached your doorstep. "Thanks for walking me home, Jungwon. See you tomorrow!" and with that you disappeared behind the door.

Jungwon waved goodbye as he watched the door closed. The smile on his face dropped and his shoulder sagged. Jungwon you idiot, of course she would want to study, he scolded himself. With disappointment on his face, he trudged home with a heavy heart.

"Change of plans, guys," he announced as he swung the front door open, unfazed by the fact that Riki and Sunoo were lounging on his coach. He accepted the fact that Sunoo had somehow gotten the keys to his house (suspecting that his mother probably gave it to him due to favouritism or maybe Riki had sneakily made a copy).

Riki's head poked out from the couch. "She rejected you, didn't she," the younger boy said with a smirk.

Jungwon's face ears turned red as he glared at the boy. "No she did not!" He immediately told him. "She rejected the offer to watch the movie, that's different!"

"That's basically rejection, hyung," Riki laughed.

The other boy just glared at him. "Shut up!" he sputtered out before hiking up the stairs.

Sunoo gave Riki a look, to which the Japanese boy just shrugged his shoulders innocently.

Jungwon walked out from the shower, a towel around his neck with one hand running through his damp hair. Sunoo and Riki had left earlier, finally giving him some peace and quiet. His phone screen was flashing from his study table, initiating that someone was spamming him (quite aggressively) with text message. With a raised eyebrow, he picked up his phone

[7:09 pm] wonyoung: JUNGWON

[7:09 pm] wonyoung: JUNGWON

[7:09 pm] wonyoung: JUNGWON

[7:10 pm] wonyoung: WHY DID Y/N JUST MESSAGED ME ABOUT HOMEWORK

[7:10 pm] wonyoung: ISNT SHE WITH YOU

[7:11 pm] wonyoung: I THOUGHT YOU SAID U WERE GONNA WATCH A MOVIE

[7:11 pm] wonyoung: DEMON HUNTER OR SMTG

[7:12 pm] wonyoung: WHY IS SHE ASKING ME FOR HW

[7:12 pm] wonyoung: DID U CHICKEN OUT???

[7:13 pm] wonyoung: omg u chickened out didnt u

[7:14 pm] jungwon: jfc wonyoung

[7:15 pm] jungwon: and no i did not chicken out okay

[7:15 pm] jungwon: she declined

[7:16 pm] jungwon: she said she had to study ;-;

[7:17 pm] wonyoung: omg u suck

[7:17 pm] wonyoung: i told u the movie idea was dumb

[7:18 pm] wonyoung: but do u ever listen to me

[7:18 pm] wonyoung: no

[7:19 pm] wonyoung: and now u suffer the consequences

[7:20 pm] jungwon: yea yea i get it im dumb

[7:20 pm] jungwon: now what's ur solution the great jang wonyoung

[7:21 pm] wonyoung: i am so glad u asked :)

[7:21 pm] jungwon: oh no

[7:21 pm] wonyoung: stfu im giving u a better idea

[7:22 pm] wonyoung: a n y w a y s

[7:22 pm] wonyoung: my ynradar is going off and she's s a d

[7:23 pm] jungwon: how would u know

[7:23 pm] jungwon: she seemed fine today

[7:23 pm] wonyoung: stfu jungwon its best friend things u wont understand

[7:24 pm] jungwon: i-

[7:25 pm] wonyoung: and as her future bf u SHOULD start to train ur ynradar

[7:25 pm] wonyoung: anw its exam season stoopid

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: and its when those kids start to talk abt how the both of us are gonna get top scores

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: and they talk down on y/n while doing so

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: assholes

[7:27 pm] wonyoung: so i propose to u

[7:27 pm] wonyoung: a ✨ study date ✨

[7:28 pm] jungwon: i

[7:29 pm] jungwon: that's

[7:29 pm] jungwon: actually not a bad idea

[7:30 pm] wonyoung: obv i came up with it

[7:31 pm] jungwon: can u not

[7:31 pm] wonyoung: anw a study date

[7:32 pm] wonyoung: she's struggling in maths

[7:33 pm] wonyoung: specifically taxes because she said and i quote

[7:34 pm] wonyoung: "why do we have to do taxes when we pay people to do it for us"

[7:34 pm] wonyoung: so pls help her and try to cheer her up

[7:35 pm] wonyoung: and confess coward

[7:36 pm] jungwon: i make no promises for the last one

[7:36 pm] wonyoung: aFTER EVERYTHING I JUST SAID

[7:37 pm] jungwon: what if she rejects me wonyoung

[7:38 pm] wonyoung: WE'VE HAD THIS CONVERSATION A LOT OF TIMES JUNGWON

[7:38 pm] wonyoung: SHE LIKES U BUT SHES TOO DUMB TO REALISE

[7:39 pm] jungwon: sigh

[7:40 pm] jungwon: fine i'll try thanks wonyoung

[7:41 pm] wonyoung: np i expect y'all to be a couple by next monday <3

[7:41 pm] jungwon: i-

Sighing for the nth time of the night, Jungwon sat on his bed. He allowed the towel to slipped off his shoulders as his thumb hovered over your chat icon. Truth be told, he always thought his crush on you was unrequited love. You never showed any signs of returning of feelings so he thought he would just ignore the feeling until it was gone.

But oh boy was he wrong, because he didn't knew that he would be spending his high school years by your side. And now you occupy his mind 24/7. Wonyoung could literally tell that he was in love with you, but somehow you never caught on. He allowed Sunoo and Riki to convince him to do the whole "movie date idea", but that failed. So Wonyoung's suggestion was his only option left.

He typed out the message, ready to send it out. If only he could just press the button. Come on Yang Jungwon, you can do this. Just press the damn button Jungwon. Suddenly his phone pinged loudly, scaring the lights out of the poor boy as he yelped and his phone landed with a thud on the ground. He peered over his bed, as if his phone was a ticking bomb.

Oh, it was a message from you.

[8:01 pm] y/n: hey do u know where wonyoung is

[8:01 pm] y/n: she isn't answering my texts

Oh no. He realised that your chat was open, the two ticks indicated that he had (unintentionally) read the message. He couldn't just leave you on read. That's just evil. Scrambling to get his phone, he immediately typed a reply to cover for the other girl.

[8:02 pm] jungwon: sorry i don't :/

[8:02 pm] jungwon: what do u need her for

[8:03 pm] y/n: mf was supposed to teach me a maths question but she left me on rEAD

This was his chance! It was the perfect opportunity for him to score a date with you. Okay, breathe in breath out Jungwon. Don't mess it up and just ask her, he mentally prepared himself.

[8:04 pm] jungwon: oh i could help you if you want

[8:04 pm] jungwon: yk with finals coming up and everything, i can help you study

[8:05 pm] jungwon: if you want of course

[8:05 pm] y/n: omg srsly??

[8:06 pm] jungwon: pls help me study my braincells are literally dying

[8:07 pm] jungwon: jdsjkda okay how about this saturday at your place?

[8:08 pm] y/n: yeah sure

[8:08 pm] jungwon: cool its a date then!

You blinked at Jungwon's message. A date? Wait, did Yang Jungwon just indirectly asked you out? Nah, nah. You were overthinking it. Yes, definitely overthinking. Don't kid yourself, why would Jungwon ask you out on a date? Jungwon is just a friend, you tried to convince yourself.

Keyword: tried.

If he really was just a friend, then why did it felt like butterflies were in your stomach when he said "it was a date"? Then why did you frowned when those girls said that Wonyoung and Jungwon would make a good couple?

Oh god, do you have feelings for your best friend?

Saturday came faster than you would have liked it to. Ever since that last chat with Jungwon, it gave you the sudden realisation that you did in fact had feelings for your best friend. You tried so hard to avoid him in school because you don't want the butterflies back in your stomach. It was basically confirming the fact that you like him. Well, avoiding him also confirmed the fact but you choose to be in denial about it.

You didn't tell Wonyoung about your study date but lately she's been sending you outfit ideas on Pinterest. Specifically, date outftis. And whenever you tried to ask her a question about school, she brushed you off with a random excuse. So it left you no choice but to save those questions for Jungwon.

Speaking of Jungwon, he had texted you 10 minutes ago that he was on the way. You were standing in the middle of your room with your hands on your hips. Both of your parents were out for the day, which left you alone at home. You had taken out the low table to be used later and it was currently in front of you. Colourful workbooks were neatly stacked on top of it.

You did a 360 turn around your room. Was it messy? You cleaned it this morning when you woke up. Did you had any clothes out? No, doesn't look like it. For some reason, you were a nervous wreck. You blamed Jungwon. He just had to call this a date, didn't he.

Should you change? Maybe you should finally look through all those pins Wonyoung sent. Wait, no, why would you have to change into something nice. Jungwon was here to help you study, just that.

Yeah, a study date, your mind emphasised on the word.

The sound of the doorbell pulled you out from your thoughts. You immediately went to open the door. Yang Jungwon stood there on the other side, with his signature smile. Had he always resembled a sheep? He just looked so fluffy.

"Hey!" You greeted him with a smile, internally wincing at your way-too-enthusiastic voice.

But Jungwon didn't seem to mind it. "Hey!" he greeted back.

You moved to the side to let him in. "Thank you for having me," he said as he bowed then proceeded to remove his shoes.

"Uh, do you want anything? Water?" You asked him.

He shook his head.

"Ah, cool. Let's head to my room," you started to walk back to your room.

"Where are your parents?" He asked.

"Out," you simply replied.

That was when it dawned upon you, that your parents were not home. Leaving you and Jungwon, alone. Together. In your room. Alone. With the boy you potentially have a crush on.

"Y/N?" Jungwon tapped on your shoulder. You had stopped walking when you were suddenly washed over by your thoughts. Snapping out of it, you sent him a small smile before opening the room to your door.

The both of you shuffled into your bedroom, you sat down in front of the low table while Jungwon settled down next to you. He moved to take out his books then turned to you. "How about we do some studying and if you have any questions, you can ask me okay?" He said.

You nodded and flipped your own workbook open, immediately starting to work on the first question. Jungwon copied your action and a comfortable silence engulfed the both of you. As the time passed, you found yourself stuck on a certain maths question.

You slightly turned your head to the side to look at Jungwon. He was concentrated at doing his work, you felt a sense of deja vu while looking at him. He resembled Wonyoung when she was studying. At the thought of Wonyoung, you suddenly thought of what those girls said at the bathroom.

They would make a good couple, wouldn't they, you thought. The power couple of the year.

The butterflies in your stomach faded away into an uncomfortable feeling. Just the idea of them getting together already made you sick. You bit the inside of your cheek, you really did had feelings for him. And now it scared you because what if he doesn't feel the same. You made a mental note to consult with Wonyoung later, at least you hope that you'll allow yourself to tell her.

Jungwon must've noticed you staring and gently tapped your head with his pencil. A contrast to when Wonyoung painfully flicked your forehead.

"What's wrong? Are you stuck on a question?" He asked.

You leaned back a bit at the sudden action. You were so deep in your insecurities that you had totally forgotten about the literal problem sitting in front of you. Yet you couldn't even bother to ask him so you just shook your head. "I'm gonna get something to drink," you said instead.

Jungwon watched as you stood up, then decided to follow you as well. "I'll come along."

The boy joined you in the kitchen, perched on one of the island stools as you grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. He studied your movement as you worked around the kitchen. Your features were neutral, you weren't smiling nor frowning. But he could tell that your shoulders were tensed. Wonyoung was right, you did seem down. And he cursed himself for not noticing earlier.

"You okay?" His question made you stopped in a mid-pour stance, the can of soda was tilted but not enough for the contents to be poured out.

You brushed his question off and poured the drink into the cup. "Yeah," you hummed.

Unconvinced by your answer, he pried more. "You know you shouldn't care about what they say, right?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, pretending like you didn't understand where he was coming from.

"You're not below us, you know that right?"

You couldn't help but scoffed at his words. Jungwon's lips tugged downwards "I'm being serious here, Y/N," his tone was stern. "You shouldn't listen to what they say. You're more than just-"

The sound of the can being slammed down shuts him up. Your fingers tightened around the can as you looked at him. You didn't had the energy to hear him preach the same old "Don't Listen To Them" speech. You don't need his pity.

"I don't want to hear it, Yang Jungwon," you said through gritted teeth. Not sparing him another glance, you threw the empty can into the trash as you grabbed your glass.

As you walked past Jungwon, he suddenly reached out and held onto your forearm. "Y/N," he said softly. "Please tell me what's wrong."

You sighed and slowly turn around to face him, placing the glass back on the counter. You took in a deep breath before you opened your mouth. "I feel like I'm not enough," you finally said. "Everything I do just doesn't seem enough. All I'm doing is my best but it's just crushing my ego because everyone is telling me that you're better than me."

"I feel like no one wants me and I hate the way I'm perceived. It's always poor Y/N this and poor Y/N that's because everyone just sees me as your shadow and I fucking hate it. I only have two real friends," you gestured wildly. "And lately I'm a nervous wreck cause I keep comparing myself to the two of you. I'm not cool and I'm not smart, and I can't even parallel park!" You threw your hands up in frustration, the feelings you kept inside were pouring out like a waterfall.

Jungwon just stood there as he listened tentatively to every word. He didn't knew that you felt this way, bottling up all your emotions like that.

"And I'm so tired of people telling me to enjoy my youth and that these are the golden years. I might just fucking cry if I hear those words again," you finished ranting. It felt good, it felt like a weight on your heart has been lifted. Then you remembered that you just dumped all of it on Jungwon.

You opened your mouth to apologise to him but he surprised you by pulling him into his arms. At first you were standing stiffly at the sudden contact, but it took a millisecond for you to melt in his embrace. His arms were gently around your back and you returned the hug by wrapping your arms around his torso. The two of you stay in that position for awhile, relishing in each other's embrace. You definitely needed this hug.

Tightening your hold on Jungwon, you realised how important he was to you. He was your best friend and he was always there for you. It was stupid of you to compare yourself to him, when all he did was tried his best for you. The taller boy chuckled when he felt you rubbed your face into his shoulder, he involuntarily released a contented sigh. You felt one of his hands stroked your hair, it felt comforting. That action itself was enough for the butterflies to slowly settled back in you.

After a while, both of you finally (unwillingly) released each other. He pushed a strand of hair behind your ears and said, "You're wrong by the way." Which made you tilt your head in genuine confusion.

"You are cool and you are smart. You're like the coolest person I know. And no one thinks of you as our shadow, you don't hear it but I've always hear the juniors praising you for helping them and how enthusiastic you are," the way he delivered his words was filled with pure awe for you.

"And who cares if you can't parallel park. You didn't hear it from but Jay hyung failed his drivers test three times just because he couldn't parallel park," and that got a laugh out from you. Jungwon smiled proudly that he managed to make you laugh. "And you're wrong when you said no one wants you. I want you."

You blinked once, twice and thrice. He wanted you? "You're just saying that cause you're my best friend," you replied.

"No," he firmly said. "I like you, Y/N."

(Jungwon doesn't know where he got this sudden surge of confidence, but the mood was the perfect time for him to confess. It was a one time chance and he had to take it.)

You chuckled. "I like you too, Jungwon. We are friends aren't we?"

"No, Y/N. I like you. More than friends."

"Oh." Oh.

"Yeah," he scratched the back of neck awkwardly. Oh no, did you not feel the same way?

While you on the other hand, were malfunctioning on the inside. Your best friend just confessed to you and you were frozen on the spot. Why couldn't he had done it over text instead. If he had done it over text, then you could've left the message unread and you could've spammed Wonyoung for help. But the thing is that it wasn't over text and you couldn't just tell him to wait here while you panicked to Wonyoung in your bathroom.

Yang Jungwon likes you. And you like him too, right? Because if you didn't, your cheeks won't be heating up right now and your heart would have not be beating rapidly like it was going to break your rib cage any second. If you didn't like him, there would have never been butterflies in your stomach. Yeah. You like Yang Jungwon, you like him a lot.

"Me too," you whispered, it was soft but it was enough for him to pick it up. Jungwon eyes snapped to you, doe eyed filled with hope. "I like you, too," you said, this time louder. And you made sure you looked him in the eye when you confessed.

You watched as Jungwon's mouth morphed into a big grin. He let out a sigh of relief and dropped to his knees, surprising you. "Jungwon!" you squeaked, bending down to help him.

"I'm fine! I'm fine," he assured you as he stood up with your help. The grin on his face was still there. "It's just that … you like me," he breathed out. "You like me back, wow. I-I can't believe it."

Your face was definitely burning with embarrassment. You punched him lightly on the shoulder, turning away to hide your face. "Believe it, you dork. I like you, okay!" Somehow his grin was able to grew wider at your words, Gently, he took your hand in his.

"How about we stop this study date, and I'll take you out on real date?"

© chaeryybomb 2021

a/n: thank you so much for reading this <3

[sqoiler]

On the Thursday of the last week of kindergarten, the DVD that Miss Martinez was going to play turns out to be scratched beyond recognition, and so she gets out construction paper, scissors, markers, and glitter glue. 

“Father’s Day isn’t for a few more weeks,” she says. “But why don’t we make some cards, just like we did for Mother’s Day, okay?” 

The kids all get to work, reaching for the pile of brightly-colored paper. Stephanie Brown, who will be turning six in August, is the last one to get up. She shifts through the leftover colors--black, a pukey shade of green, blue, white. She picks up the black one and takes it back to her desk. She does not want to make a stupid card for her stupid dad. The other kids at her table are enthusiastically chattering about their dads’ favorite colors and jobs and drawing crayon drawings onto the paper. The girl next to her is cutting a snowflake out with safety scissors. 

Steph picks up a white crayon and stares at her blank card. Across the room, Dexter raises his hand. 

“What if we don’t have a dad?” he asks. Steph remembers from Mother’s Day that Dexter has two moms. 

“Make a card for someone else,” Miss Martinez suggests. “Your grandfather, maybe. Or a neighbor, or a hero.”

A hero?

Steph looks at the black card before her, and her white crayon. She smiles.

And she makes a Father’s Day card for Batman.

-----

On the Monday of the last week of first grade, Mrs. Arnold, the art teacher, sits down her class and passes out white paper. 

“Father’s Day cards,” she explains. Stephanie Brown, seven in August, considers making her own father a card. She didn’t get him anything last year but he didn’t seem to notice, and she’s not really that mad at him this year. But he didn’t seem to notice, and when Steph thinks about it, she thinks Robin probably doesn’t make Batman a card. Steph could make another card for her own dad at home, and make one for Batman at school. 

Mind made up, she reaches for black markers and gets to work. 

-----

On the Tuesday of the last week of second grade, Stephanie Brown, almost eight years old, sits down in art class and carefully draws a black blob with pointy ears, and a red and green and yellow stick figure, next to it, and she tries to remember what Nightwing looks like, and when she can’t remember she just draws Robin again but bigger.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, she writes in red marker, and she closes the card.

------

On the Wednesday of the last week of third grade, Mrs. Arnold passes out watercolors in art class with pieces of thick paper, and tells them to make presents for their dads. Stephanie Brown, nearly nine, hasn’t seen her dad in almost four months, and she uses up almost all the black water colors at her table painting a picture of Batman. 

------

On the last week of fourth grade, nobody sits down their class to have them make Father’s Day cards. 

On the Thursday before Father’s Day, Crystal passes Stephanie Brown, age almost-ten, a card bought from the store and tells her that they’ll mail it to Blackgate the next morning. Happy Father’s Day, the card says. You’re the best dad ever! the card says. 

Steph stares at it for a long time.

Then she tears out a piece of notebook paper and folds it in half, taking the rainbow gel pens she got in December and picking up the pink one. She squints at it and sees that it’s nearly run out, so she picks up the purple one instead. 

When she’s done drawing Batman and Batgirl and Robin and Nightwing, she decides she likes purple, and she folds the notebook paper inside the card her mother gave her, and she doesn’t mail anything to Blackgate the next day.

-----

On the last day of fifth grade, Mr. Robinson turns on The Great Mouse Detective and sets out a stack of colored paper and scissors. He tells the class they can do whatever they want during the movie and even sets up chips and cookies, then he sits in the back of the classroom and maybe falls asleep. Stephanie Brown, ten-going-on-eleven, wants something to do with her hands, so she takes a black piece of paper and cuts out a batsymbol. She learned how to draw them by sticking her head out her window at night and looking at the sky, and she’s proud of her newfound skill. When she’s done cutting it out, she’s not really sure what to do besides maybe tape it to her shirt, but her dad’s been out for a week now and she thinks he’d be mad if he saw that. 

Instead, she folds it in half and writes HAPPY FATHERS DAY across the middle using white-out. Skye, the girl who sits next to her, leans over and asks what she’s doing, and Steph pauses. She’s...she’s not really sure why she keeps making these. To prove a point, maybe. She’s not really sure what point, though.

“Do you think Batman ever gets cards?” she asks in a whisper. 

“Yes,” Skye says. “Probably every day.”

“Oh,” Steph says. “Well, I probably won’t send it then.”

“Okay,” Skye says, and then she downs half of her dixie cup of orange juice and turns back to the movie. Steph puts purple glitter glue on her batsymbol. 

------

On the first week of April, Stephanie Brown, age seventeen, pulls a plastic bin out from under her desk. There’s a cardboard box beside her, and two other cardboard boxes on her empty mattress, full and taped shut. There’s a full duffel bag of clothes next to her, and her posters from her walls have been taken down and rolled up. All she has to do is finish going through her desk, and then she’s done. The rest of her things will be sold or something, she’s not sure. 

She pries off the lid of the bin before her and takes out old school binders and ragged notebooks, paper folders falling apart and ancient art projects. She lifts out a collage she probably made in seventh grade and tries to decipher the meaning behind it. There is a cutout of red heels from Kohls on top of a blue betta fish. 

Steph decides it will go in the trash pile and sets it aside, lifting out a yellow plastic folder. She opens it, curious, and lifts out a black paper batsymbol. She gasps when she opens it.

Her Father’s Day cards! 

Of course, she had never sent them, so she has all--she counts quickly--six of them. She looks them over, laughing at her kindergarten misspellings and looking at the evolution of her drawing ability fondly. This is--she totally forgot about this. Steph closes the folder reverently and puts it on top of her duffel bag. There’s no way she can get rid of this--especially with the purple cape still in the hidden part of her closet. Especially not with where she’s packing up to move to.

----

On the third Sunday in June, Stephanie Brown, age eighteen-in-August, takes up her yellow plastic folder from where she hid it under her new mattress, and she leaves her room, tucking it under her arm. She gets like four steps down the hall before another door opens, and already an accusing voice says, “What’s that?” 

Steph whirls around. 

“None of your business,” she says. Tim makes a face at her and she makes the same one back, because she is very mature. To prove her maturity, she slides down the banister on her way to the kitchen. 

Dick and Cass are in there, doing the dishes. Steph watches them for a second and then says, “Why do you have dishes at this hour?” ‘This hour’, upon checking, turns out to be almost noon, but nobody wakes up early in this house. 

“Breakfast for Alfred,” Cass says. 

“You can do that?” Steph asks, thinking that Alfred would get offended if someone tried to cook for him. 

“You can today,” Dick says, shrugging, and Steph frowns, realizes that they ganged together to make breakfast on Father’s Day for Alfred and didn’t invite her. 

It was probably an accident, she reasons, but then she remembers Tim and turns to face him. 

“Why didn’t you make breakfast for Alfred?”

“I was sleeping,” he says. 

“He’s impossible to wake up so we called it a lost cause,” Dick says. “We have extra pancakes, though, help yourself.”

Steph is still a little affronted, but she knows that she’s the newest person in the house and she’s only staying here until her mom’s done with rehab and whatever, so they probably didn’t think she’d want to be included, even though Alfred is everyone’s grandpa, even Babs’s. She goes to pick up a pair of pancakes and bites into one, deciding syrup can wait, and she leaves before they can rope her into conversation. Besides, she’s a little scared they’ll start referring to whatever plans they have with Bruce, and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to react. 

She heads to Bruce’s study and pushes open the door, glad to find him in there. She thinks if she had to search for him she’d probably lose her nerve and chicken out. Bruce glances up for like half a second and then looks back at the computer, and she takes a deep breath and steps inside fully. 

Now or never, she thinks, and so she marches right up to him and slams the yellow folder on the desk. 

“What’s this?” Bruce says, and Steph isn’t really sure how to explain, so she says, “It’s, uh, I found it when I was packing my stuff, and it’s...it’s from a while ago, but I thought you might, um…”

She trails off as he picks up the folder and opens it, raising an eyebrow at the contents from inside. She kinda wants to look at his face, but also totally doesn’t want to do that, so instead she looks at the desk, and opens her dumb mouth back up. “They always used to have us do Father’s Day cards at school or whatever and I never wanted to make one for Arthur so I made those instead ‘cause...well I don’t really remember why but whatever I thought you might want to see them.”

“Stephanie,” Bruce says, and she shuts up and bites her lip, looking up at him. “You...made these?”

“Yeah,” she says. He looks back down at the cards in his hands, all spread out--even the one that was intended for Arthur that Steph never sent. He touches the one from kindergarten. “Um. You can keep them.”

Bruce stands up. Steph isn’t really sure at all what he’s thinking, but he steps away from his chair and wraps his arms around her, holds her tight. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

“Happy Father’s Day,” she says, and when he squeezes her she closes her eyes, exhales, and squeezes him back. 

(based on this post x) (ao3 here x)

[kieraelieson]

Three Times Patton Got Lost in a Market

Thomas was walking through the old store with his mom, careful to hold her hand while they shopped.

“Oh, look! There’s a wind chime! It’s just like the nice neighbor lady!” Patton said.

Thomas stopped to look, and his mom stopped too, looking at something else across the aisle.

“It isn’t exactly the same,” Logan said. “Hers has a hummingbird on top, but this one has a butterfly.”

“And anyway, this one has prettier colors when the light hits it,” Roman added.

“Oooh, the red really is pretty, Roman!” Patton said excitedly. “And the purple, and the yellow!”

“It’s exactly the colors of the most beautiful rainbow reflecting back from a pot of gold,” Roman said dreamily.

“Mom!” Virgil suddenly shrieked, alerting them all to the fact that Thomas’s mom was no longer beside them.

Instantly, there was a pandemonium of overlapping voices, all very confusing, and Virgil at the front screaming.

“Quiet!” Patton yelled, as loud as he could, and then felt a little like crying. He didn’t like yelling, but this was important!

“But we have to find Mom!”

“We should run after her!”

“If we yell someone will hear!”

“Listen to me!” Patton yelled again. “Remember what Mom said? If we get lost in the store we stay put, and if we see an employee then we ask them to call mom for us.”

Virgil bit down hard on his sleeves, and Patton took his silence for agreement.

“That is indeed what Thomas was told,” Logan admitted.

“I still think we should go find her!” Roman protested, though less pointedly than before.

Thomas plopped down on the floor.

“Ok. That settles it, we’re waiting for mom,” Patton said. “Let’s look for more pretty things while she comes to get us. Roman, what else can you see around us that looks like a rainbow?”

Roman grumpily crossed his arms. “There’s a rainbow on the lawn decoration.”

“Very good!” Patton said. “Logan, can you see anything that’s science-accurate?”

“Science-accurate is a very vague phrase, but I suppose you could be intending to direct me to the collection of decorative barometers.”

“Oooh~ yes, the water swan neck thingies~” Roman said.

Logan launched into an explanation of barometers, most of which Patton didn’t understand.

He checked on Virgil, who was scanning the aisle they were in over and over again, and chewing holes in his poor sleeves.

“She’ll be here in just a minute, don’t worry,” Patton said gently.

Virgil nodded slightly, but didn’t stop checking the ends of the aisle and staring down each person that passed.

And then his eyes went wide. Patton turned to look.

“Mom!”

“Thomas, I thought I lost you for a minute there! Stay close, ok?”

Thomas took his mother’s hand and nodded.

Patton let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t lost anymore.

••^*^••

Thomas was a bit worried about high school, and especially the test coming up, and Logan and Virgil were mostly helping him with that. But now he had to go to the store for groceries. And Roman was exhausted after being all excited over the play and was sound asleep.

So Patton was helping shop!

He smiled confidently, prompting Thomas to look at the list again. He needed to get the ingredients for tacos, and some bread, milk, eggs, and ice cream. Yum!

Now what all went into tacos?

There was meat, and sour cream, and little shredded lettuce, and cheese, and taco shells, or was he supposed to get soft tortillas?

Patton considered, wandering into the store towards the food. Maybe both? Yeah. Both. Oh! And there was the bread! That would probably have tortillas near it!

Patton hummed happily, finding the bread that looked the same as what mom had been getting, noting the brand name. Nature’s Own. Huh.

Now tortillas… what kind did they normally get?

He finally just picked the one that had blue on the label.

Virgil popped up, startling him for a moment, especially with his intense frown. “People are staring. We’re taking too long near the bread, and your humming is gonna make people think Thomas is weird.”

“Oh, it’s alright!” Patton said cheerfully, glad he hadn’t dropped the tortillas. “I didn’t get in anyone’s way, and they haven’t said anything yet about thinking Thomas is weird.”

“Yeah…” Virgil glared at the people milling around and shopping. “Well they could. Just… keep it quiet.”

“Will do!” Patton grinned, and Virgil sunk back out.

Next he had to find… well, next he had to find the next thing. Should he keep walking and hope to see them, or should he seek each one out? He’d stumbled upon the bread, surely he would stumble across the rest.

Patton hummed happily and kept walking, skipping along beside the cart as Thomas pushed it. Thomas must really be out of it, poor guy. But Patton could help him cheer up!

Pretty soon, they had almost everything! Except for taco seasoning. And Patton wasn’t sure if they were supposed to get the kind that was in packets, or the actual spices. And he also wasn’t sure whether he should look in the spices area or the Mexican food area. Or where those areas were.

Surely they’d passed those special Mexican drinks a while back. But where?

Patton encouraged Thomas to turn around and go back, but after several aisles he still couldn’t find anything he was looking for. He turned back around, and then again.

“Perhaps… I need to go from one end all the way to the other…”

Virgil popped up again, rather grumpy looking, but not as much as earlier. “That’s gonna take too long. We’re already late, and Mom is gonna need Thomas home son so she can make dinner.”

Patton sighed. “Ok. Logan, help please, I’m lost.”

Logan popped up, looked around, and then pointed. “That aisle.”

“But how do you know?” Patton asked.

“There’s a sign above it.”

Patton looked up. “Oh. Yeah.” He chuckled. “I should’ve thought to look for signs. Thanks, Logan!”

“You’re welcome. However I do suggest we attempt to make our trip home expedient. I’ll need Virgil’s full attention and assistance to prepare adequately for the test.”

“Will do!” Patton said, already spurring Thomas towards the aisle.

••^*^••

“I have created the ultimate maze!” Roman said excitedly. “It is called Infinite IKEA!”

Patton clapped excitedly, and even Logan gave a single clap.

“I really don’t see the point—“

“The point is a race, Emo Nightmare, and the winner gets to pick which old reruns Thomas watches tonight.”

Virgil tried to pretend he was still disinterested, but Patton could tell he was excited. “So what would we have to do to win the race?”

Roman grinned. “I’ve hidden a copy of each of our logos in the store somewhere, except for mine, which Logan hid by sinking in and placing it in a random place, so he doesn’t know the layout of the store yet. You have to find your own logo, and then exit the store!”

Oh, so that was why Logan had a bump on his head. He’d probably tried to rise up too close to a shelf. Ouch.

“Everybody ready! Set! Go!”

They all rushed into the store. Patton looked around excitedly, getting more excited to see that the store was full of items that came from houses where Thomas had lived or visited. He ran to the section of beds and flopped onto the biggest one.

He let out a comfy sigh, looking up at the roof which, rather than being metal supports and too-bright lights, was intricately painted with something that glowed.

It was amazing.

“You did a really great job, Roman,” Patton said, even though Roman was probably running ahead to win the race— oh! This was a race!

He jumped up and started walking, looking around for his heart with glasses.

After the bed section, where he wished he could stay and flip onto each one, he wandered into the lamps and chandeliers section. That was beautiful. He was still dazzled and in awe walking out. It even had that massive one Thomas had seen in the one hotel once.

And then came books, where Logan was!

“Hi, Logan!”

“Ah, greetings Patton.” Logan was looking through the books, just as captivated as Patton had been by the beds.

“Find your logo yet?”

“Not yet. I’m not overly concerned with winning, and Roman has certainly made this an interesting place to browse.”

“Mhmm!” Patton looked around. “Where are the kids books, I want to see if the Winnie the Pooh book is still chewed on or if Roman made it brand new.”

“That way, two shelves down,” Logan said, rather distracted by a book he’d picked off of the shelf.

“Thank you!”

Patton found the children’s section, and then found the book. It was still chewed on the corners. He smiled, and flipped through the thick cardboard pages. Thomas had loved this book.

And then, when he opened the last page, his logo fell out.

“Awww, look!” He picked it up, and found that it was a sticker. He promptly stuck the sticker to his chest and put the book back. Now all he had to do was find his way out!

He wandered into the next section, which was all dark and purples and blues and blacks and everything cozily packed together.

There was even a sign warning him away from certain aisles, because there would be spiders, and Patton was very glad Roman had thought of that.

And then he remembered the sunglasses stand sitting at the beginning of the lights aisle. That was probably for Virgil. Roman had been so thoughtful in building this! Patton hoped Roman would win. He certainly deserved the prize after putting all this together.

There was a whole section of Disney, all the movies, and posters, and any Disney themed toys and figurines, and even cardboard cut outs! It was lovely and chaotic and colorful, and it bridged Virgil’s section with Roman’s very well.

Roman had every single picture Thomas had ever seen, which was so many pictures!! Patton looked in awe until he realized that the paintbrushes weren’t just for show, some of them had been used. There was a little black cat in the corner of one painting, and a little V, and the paintbrush was in a cup of black water.

Patton found a picture of a field of flowers, and picked up the paintbrush, dabbing a bit of pink onto the picture. It turned instead into exactly the kind of flower Patton had been envisioning! He smiled wide and painted another, and another, and another, and each one turned out beautiful!

He ran to another painting and gave a little boy in the background a balloon and a smile. And then he gave the lady sitting in a rocking chair a baby to hold.

He finally had to stop himself. He could stay here forever, but he probably should get to the end of the store so he wouldn’t worry the others.

He got to the end of Roman’s section, only to find a massive blanket fort. He kept himself from exploring, and passed through, coming out at… the beds again?

Ohhhhh, right. It was a race and a maze.

Patton flopped down on the bed Thomas had grown up with, wrapping up in the blanket. He let out a happy sigh.

“Logan! Roman! Virgil! I’m lost! But I’m also gonna stay lost!”

Roman rose up and leaned against the footboard, a pleased smile on his face. “Enjoying the store?”

“I’m loving it!” Patton said happily, sitting up. “You did a really good job!”

Roman glowed. “I guess I’ll have to leave it up for you to wander in then. Once Virgil finds the exit I’ll put it somewhere more obvious so you can get out once you’re done.”

“Oh, did you and Logan already get out? Who won?”

“Logan, but only by a few minutes. He hid my logo in a hard place! How was I supposed to guess he’d put it under the makeup stash?”

Patton chuckled. “Wait, I didn’t see that.”

“It’s in Virgil’s section, in one of the spider aisles. I can un-spider it for you if you want.”

“Well, let Virgil have his fun first, but I’d really like that.” Patton smiled. He could have fun in here for a long time. “You did an amazing job with the paintings too! I loved those!”

Roman puffed up happily. “I did, didn’t I?”

There was a distant, triumphant, “Ha! I made it! Wait, Princey beat me? Aww.”

Patton giggled.

Roman patted his shoulder. “Have fun.”

“I will!” Patton said happily, eyeing the blanket fort which he now had time to explore.

—————

If you enjoyed, please reblog! And consider supporting me as I try to make a living off of writing 😊

[maxwell-grant]

Odd-ish question. Imagine, if you will, that a new The Shadow film or prestige TV Series is being made. In your head, what's the trailer?

I gotta say, it was rather disheartening to learn in film school that most directors/producers/showrunners don't actually get to have much say in how their work is promoted, because, at least as far as I know, that stuff is outsourced to a separate team. I mean, I get why this happens, it's ultimately for the best, but it's still kind of a bummer to me personally since I do like making trailers and teasers (I do make my living as an editor and all).

I'm not gonna get too into what I imagine said trailer to be like, because it's one of those things I'd rather keep to myself until I get to make something of it, but I will talk a bit about how I think a marketing strategy for a new Shadow film or series could be like.

First and foremost, I think anyone who wants to tackle The Shadow, even just to promote him, has gotta understand what about the character works, what influenced his creation, what's he got that can be promoted, what can grab audiences, what can get them to stay, and so on. "Fandoms" nowadays rule the way media is consumed and sustained, and you see it especially in modern cartoons that live or die on the audience's devotion. That is one of the reasons why I made this blog, because I want the character to thrive again and I want to provide people with a catalogue of information they can dig into.

The Shadow was, for a decade and then some, arguably the biggest crimefighter of American media, figurehead of not just one but TWO mediums, and the only reason he existed at all was because Street & Smith's marketing ploy for a faceless narrator turned out far more successfully than they could have anticipated. That he's survived the total downfall of American pulps and decades of mismanaged adaptations, as still one of the most famous of all pulp heroes, is testament to how strong the original concept still is, the appeal the character held. I made this post partially to highlight that.

And first and foremost, is to build up the character. Take advantage of the fact that the general audiences only have the vaguest idea of what this guy is like, and treat him not like an old character making a comeback, but like he's about to debut for the first time. As I mentioned prior, 1930s radio audiences were enthralled by The Shadow not just because he was the most interesting part of the stories he was promoting, but because he was completely unlike every other narrator in radio at the time, a hissing disembodied voice taunting and cackling malevolently, taunting and daring you.

Think of the marketing strategy for Godzilla 1998, and the waves it made as, instead of just plastering images of the monster front and center, they built up the idea of Godzilla through ads like these, instilling in your head the concept of an unfathomably large monster trodding it's way into the city and wreaking devastation with every footstep, even if you couldn't see what it actually was. It was a particularly genius move because even at this point, most Americans had at least a slight idea of what Godzilla was, or they were at least familiar with the concept through parody or pop culture osmosis. So what the marketing did was break down and fragment the Godzilla concept, and gradually put it back together under the heads of viewers. The movie sucked, mind you, and that reinforces my point: It didn't turn a profit based on it's stellar critical reputation or a prior American following for Godzilla, it turned a profit because the marketing was that good.

Joker is another example of a movie that managed to do well by essentially "re-selling" you it's titular character and through incredible marketing. IIf the idea seemed beyond stupid and unnecessary to most people at first, the Joker trailer did such a fantastic job at selling people on the concept that it immediately turned a lot of heads around. In fact, the trailer was so good, I suspect most people who went into the movie already had made up their minds on it's contents based entirely on the trailer, but I digress.

The film dissassembled the Joker bit by bit, both in marketing as well as it's story, and gave each of it's pieces it's own story. From the laughter as a replacement for tears, to the clown paint starting off as a form of confinement until it replaces the face of the broken man within, to even elements such as the green hair, gaunt physique and fondness for colored suits, all of these got a story, all of these had a "hook", all of these were given significance separate from the history of the character as a franchise supervillain, all of these were made interesting in ways people would be interested in learning more about. Why does The Joker laugh? Why is crying? What's "Arthur" like? What's he gonna do on the show? What the hell is this film going to have to do with Batman?

It got people talking and asking questions, and that's exactly what you want your audience to do. Even for a character as old and overexposed as the Joker, the movie still succeded, at least in marketing, in presenting as if we were going to see him for the first time, to the point all the film needed to secure it's Batman connection was just the name.

And Street & Smith was doing this even back then, when they were in the middle of transitioning The Shadow from radio narrator to pulp crimefighter. They started putting out shows where The Shadow would take a more active role, they started getting him to show up in other programs, they put out this contest where they gave out small lines where The Shadow told a detail about himself, and listeners had to piece it together. The radio show was told as if The Shadow was a real, active person, and this was something carried over to the pulps. This was, mind you, before Walter Gibson got to touch the character, but it shows that right upfront, Street & Smith knew how to market this character effectively, through mystery and build-up. I think there are ways to do that nowadays even besides the usual avenue of teasers and trailers.

And if I was going to make a trailer, if I was in charge of designing a marketing strategy or video and so on for The Shadow, this is what I think needs to be emphasized.

None of the promos show his costume in full. We get glimpses of it, like a slouch hat and red scarf abandoned in the middle of a square as a public ad, intense eyes leering over an urban landscape for a poster. A popular podcast gets hijacked in the middle of an ad break for The Shadow, and they act like nothing happened. An entire teaser goes by, and in it, all you see from him in costume is a hand with a Girasol Ring. We don't know who is the actor who's gonna be playing him, we hear laughs in the ads but never a speaking voice. A different rumor is confirmed every week.

The trailers show us scenes of agents interacting, policemen looking for him, criminals hurting others only to run terrified. All sorts of cryptic remarks, or terrified statements. We get an image of Harry Vincent standing on a bridge with gloved hands holding him, and to people unfamiliar, they think The Shadow's about to throw this guy off a bridge, and the fans know better.

Some people think this is all unnecessary, I mean, they know who The Shadow is, he's a 30s radio vigilante who inspired Batman and who Alec Baldwin played once. He's got a girlfriend named Margo, he shoots people. What's the point of all this?

And then The Shadow starts to show up a bit more, and he does the things that people seem to forget he's capable of, for good and bad. And gradually, the trailers and teasers and ads start to unveil just how little general audiences really know The Shadow. And, hopefully, they start wanting to learn more.

[sunflowersseemhappy]

Do you have any headcanons for main 6 set in modern times? What kind of job would they have, what music would they like or whatever else? I love your headcanons, they're always so detailed and on point 💖

I really loved doing this, only reason it took so long is because I definitely over thought a lot of this. Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy the headcanons, I definitely want to do more of this! SO when I have the time I definitely will and I actually have a rough plan of what the story and the background for the six and MC’s would be.

The “Event” mentioned references the plague but when and if I get to it that will all be explained.

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED but here is my Masterlist in the meantime!

Asra

You’ll usually find Asra in one of two places, the shop or the local cafe/bakery, living the slow city life.

Asra loves to people watch and more importantly he loves photography, he’s always taking pictures, a lot of them are of MC.

His bedroom wall is plastered with his photography and he sells a lot of them as a side gig on etsy.

He has a great blog too.

But his main focus is the shop, tucked away on a quiet corner street it feels faintly magical. Asra does tarot, sells candles, crystals and other trinkets, as well as herbal remedies that Julian admits work quite well.

In this AU Asra grew up in foster care, so when he finally found his home in the shop he never thought about living anywhere else.

It’s stayed that way for years, sharing a two bedroom flat above the shop with MC, its cluttered at times, filled with secondhand belongings but Asra loves having his own space and own things.

And he so loves taking his little holidays out of the city, bringing back more trinkets that bring good luck and fortune.

Asra always wears sneakers or trainers on his feet, mainly because all he does is walk in the city.

Although he does have a painted van for the shop deliveries; he and MC spent a week painting a swirling pattern on its sides.

His wardrobe is all tees with faded logos and cotton pants but on the rare occasion he decides to dress up Asra has an impossibly colourful blouse and faded jeans he loves to wear.

And there are so many hats! Vesuvia is sunny but he has more hats than he needs, although it's nice to have one for any occasion.

Also has crocs, they are an abomination of pink.

Asra’s phone of choice is an old samsung, he keeps meaning to update it but he’s a bit scared the photos on it will get lost.

Asra and technology don’t always mix well, for some reason...

Even in this universe Asra wouldn’t be Asra if he didn’t have Faust, a mischievous lavender python who always seems to escape her vivarium and ends up in Asra’s camera bag.

When Asra picked her out at the pets store he was told he was the only person she had ever not bitten or squeezed. Asra believes in fate, so he took her back home with him and the two are inseparable.

Asra oh so loves music, and just about any kind of tune can be found on his mp3 however he soon found his favourite to be the chillhop tunes the cafe played everyday. They really relax him.

The biggest Disney fan when he was younger, Asra then slowly decided Dreamworks were better but his favourite movies are those from Studio Ghibli. Asra simply adores the art, the music and the stories.

As mentioned Asra loves photography but he also quickly discovered watercolour paint and he doesn’t claim to be good at it but he does love making little pieces of art for birthdays and Christmas.

Speaking of which Christmas is his favourite holiday.

Asra also dabbles in growing orchids, he's too successful and there are so many he and MC don’t know what to do with them!

Asra’s favourite hobby aside from photography is rollerblading. He’s pretty good at it, cruising through the streets and along the dockside of the city (he definitely dragged MC into trying it out).

Asra never really thought he’d be one to get a tattoo but after getting Faust he changed his mind, since then he has a gorgeous complicated tattoo of the little snake on his shoulder blade.

It was only after “The Event” that Asra got another one; MC’s favourite flower on his hip bone.

Nadia

Nadia Santrivia, she’s beautiful, generous and married one of the richest men in the city, for the most part she’s alright with that.

Although Nadia hasn’t always lived in Vesuvia she’s tuned into the city around her so well, she’s in her element and thriving.

Work doesn’t end, if there was ever a beginning to start with. It's one thing after another; approving designs, attending fancy dinners, opening a charity fundraiser. Life is busy for the CEO of Vesuvia Industries.

Nadia’s happy to run Lucio’s business, because she knows she can do good with it but she can get lonely. Thankfully she has several friends who she can rely on to cheer her on...

The most important thing is that she can be herself, her own person, being last in line for her parent’s business and overshadowed by several sisters Nadia needed an escape.

Vesuvia provided the opportunity.

Nadia’s apartment is sat above the clouds in the skyscraper of Vesuvia Industries, much the same as the other universe home and work go hand in hand when it comes to Nadia.

She’s not materialistic, her apartment is clean and open and perfect for yoga and other purposes that require open space. It's very new and high tech, the coffee machine is her favourite thing though.

The views of the sunrise over the bay are gorgeous.

Ashamed to admit she has tons of shoes.

It’s usually required of Nadia to have the suits and dresses befitting a woman of her status, so when the sun goes down or she has a day off Nadia looks like an entirely different person.

She’s no less stylish, but her airy blouse’s, ripped denim jeans, subtle leather jacket and ankle boots give her a whole different persona, and man does it make her look good on her motorcycle.

Yes a motorcycle, Nadia owns one. It comes out of her garage only once a month but when it does she turns heads.

The rest of the time Naida is pretty eco-friendly with an electric car the business made just for her in a deep shade of purple.

As the CEO of the company Nadia is expected to have the latest iPhone model, her phone is always ringing and if she weren’t so patient she’d probably hurl it off the skyscraper roof.

Nadia always wanted a pet but she could never figure out what kind, and one dropped into her lap literally. Turns out she’s an owl person, although Nadia would never consider Chandra a pet more a companion.

A skyscraper is no place for a semi-wild owl but Nadia is happy enough to make the trip to the stables outside of Vesuvia to see Chandra and give her toys. Such a change from the small owlet Nadia raised.

When it comes to music Nadia is very picky, she spent her childhood listening to her sister’s choice of music and certain songs just put her in a bad mood, except for jazz.

That music preference surprised her but as soon as she discovered Lucio didn’t like it she was hooked. She thought about learning the saxophone (not to annoy Lucio or anything, no definitely not...)

Nadia’s not a big movie watcher, although she is a big fan of disaster movies when the mood strikes (it's nice to think about more chaotic things happening than signing a stack of papers), mainly she only has time to watch tv shows.

Her favourite is the Walking Dead but MC has caught her watching ‘how its made’ shows too. Of course being an avid inventor Nadia would be enthralled by seeing how her car or coffee machine is put together.

Speaking of inventing, although Nadia always wanted to make it her job she’s only ever gotten to approve the inventions her company makes.

It's not entirely what she wanted but thankfully she has just enough time to squeeze in working on her little projects. Ones she hopes will help others one day.

Nadia’s found it super important in the big city to keep herself safe, between her hobbies of yoga, kung fu and fencing she’s a pretty formidable opponent. It’s saved her life more than she’ll ever admit.

Her other hobbies, to list a few are horse riding, polo, piano, swimming, wine tasting, and playing those arcade grabber machines (she has about 50 teddy bears and MC has about the same amount). Most of those hobbies began in her childhood.

Nadia likes to pretend she is above getting a tattoo but anyone who knows her well enough will reveal she has a owl shadow tattoo on her inner heel.

Julian

Poor Julian is the definition of a struggling city batchelor, and he certainly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Still the most well traveled of the group Julian spent his formative years abroad in the army as a field medic (where he met Lucio), now though he’s a lean mean crime fighting machine!

Well he’s a forensics doctor for the Vesuvia PD, but it still counts as being a crime fighter! He’s never really lost that dramatic flair that's for sure.

He’s been a bit of everything; medic and doctor, waiter, translator, actor, sailor, troublemaker and a fugitive (but that’s a story for another day).

But Vesuvia truly is his real home, a place he’s always come back to and where he’s made friends and family, enemies, lovers, and memories.

Sure he lives in the ‘bad part’ of town as Asra calls it, but Julian feels at home enough that it doesn’t bother him, that and he’s got Mazelinka to handle the riff raff.

The two of them share a two-storey house that sits next to his favourite bar, a bit too convenient for Maz’s liking. Despite that the place is cozy and old, all wood flooring and furniture that's been around longer than Julian’s lifetime, it’s filled with the scent of cooking and coffee and other than the box tv and Julian’s phone there's almost no modern technology.

Julian’s room has faded photos of his friends, and postcards from places he’s been too and a few posters of his favourite plays, as well as rough sketches tacked to the corkboard his desk is littered with papers and he even has an old school microscope.

In the mess of his room only Julian can find the thing that he’s looking for, he calls it an ‘organized mess’ when in reality it’s really just a mess.

Unfortunately this extends to his clothing choices too, Julian is terrible at laundry so there is no end to the stains on his mellow patterned tees and jeans, the only smart thing about his wardrobe are his boots and oxfords.

Quite true to form his black trench coat is a constant companion. He usually dresses like he’s in a black and white movie or like a scruffy doctor when he’s in his lab coat.

Still has an eye patch, his depth perception when crossing roads is not great... there are a lot of hospital bills.

Also the reason he doesn’t drive unless he can help it, Julian doesn’t own a car but he’s prone to borrowing one if he needs it (usually from Asra).

Julian is very much the guy on the subway who falls asleep on your shoulder because it's the only place his mind isn’t working overtime.

MC thinks it’s very cute.

Julian’s not really too fussed about his phone of choice, Samsung, Apple, so long as he can make calls and do google searches on symptoms of a flu he’s good. No matter how hard he tries his screen is always cracked.

People often point out the raven following Julian around, he’s not too sure if its the same one but Julian knows its his own fault feeding the scrawny thing when it landed on his window pane. Now it won’t leave him alone, Julian took to calling it Malak and he’s quite fond of the bird even if it likes to cackle for food outside his window at an ungodly hour in the morning.

Maz has threatened to cook Malak on more than one occasion.

Music is one of the few things that helps Julian focus, he’s not usually super into any particular artist or album but his main love is music from musicals and movie soundtracks, if he’s able to do so he’ll sing along.

Lead forensic doctor Valdemar finds it highly unprofessional when they are conducting autopsies.

Almost has no time to watch movies or tv but if you strapped Julian to a chair and put on Brooklyn 99 or any kind of superhero movie he might enjoy it just a little bit...

Honestly though those things are just background noise for him, Julian will put on the tv to keep himself occupied while he’s doing reports. But he loves comedy movies and shows, they might tear him away from his laptop just long enough that he gets a few good laughs.

However if Mazlinka gets the old camcorder out he’s all over watching old home videos of him and Portia and his old hound dog, he’s just so nostalgic sometimes.

Thinks learning counts as a hobby, Julian habitually grabs any book he can to read through so youtube is a miracle in his eyes. Free content, that he can listen to and learn from as well as visually see? Yes please.

Julian learned to play the fiddle when he was younger, for a time as a teen he even went street performing to earn money for Portia’s obsession with bracelet making. He doesn’t play it much anymore but he’ll give MC a tune anyday.

He’s also very invested in cocktail mixing, only thing he mixes is Salty Bitters, he’ll argue any day that the Salty Bitter counts as a cocktail.

Also very invested in his self sustaining bio-tank at work, the other officers are growing concerned about the leeches Julian likes to keep in it. They’re planning an intervention.

The only tattoo Julian had was one forcibly given during “The Event”, his ‘murderers mark’ on his hand. He’s really ashamed of it because it reminds him of the part he had in the disaster that befell Vesuvia.

Muriel

He definitely suits the other universe more, it's even harder to get away from people in this modern world.

But the start remains the same, he was lost and his only friend was Asra for a long time, until Lucio came along and tricked him into doing unspeakable things as a ‘bodyguard’ until he escaped.

People are unavoidable and Muriel keeps to himself during his job as a keeper for a local animal sanctuary, raising and re-releasing wildlife with other volunteers, he practically runs the place.

But the volunteers know not to bother him especially when he goes back to his house on the hill, to take care of his chickens before he vanishes like usual into his house.

No one knows much about him, and he prefers it like that.

Muriel’s home is simple and honestly built for one, there’s only one chair, only one pillow on the bed, only one set of cutlery, only one of everything. It leaks on occasion and always needs fixing, he’ll forgo sleep to fix things.

Who needs more than four hours of sleep anyway?

A lot of Muriel’s belongings are from garage sales, or picked up off the side of the road, not a lot of money goes toward his comfort Muriel prefers that the animals in the sanctuary have comfortable beds and good food.

Muriel’s clothes? He wears them till they die, an usually when he picks them up from a garage sale they’re already pretty close.

For that reason Muriel doesn’t have a specific choice of clothing, he owns jumpers, tees, denim jackets, flannels and whatever jeans and pants fit. He has one pair of khaki coloured boots that are surprisingly well maintained and usually wears a beanie or cattleman hat to hide his face.

Old pick up, old pick up, old pick up! Owns an old pick up truck he fixed up, it breaks down regularly and only plays radio but Inanna enjoys riding in the back. Muriel likes driving a lot on those country roads.

All that’s to be said about Muriel and his phone is this; he owns a nokia and has no intention of getting a smartphone. Ever.

His hands are a bit big for it though, he’s called MC and Julian accidently so many times... and he only usually text’s, so that's awkward.

Inanna is Muriel’s constant companion, and when they’re in the city man do the two of them turn heads. Inanna is a wolfdog in this universe and she definitely looks more wolf than dog.

But she really is a big sweetheart, Muriel raised her from a puppy after she was rejected and placed in a shelter, he knew a wolf dog would need some special attention to grow into a perfect companion rather than a dangerous animal.

Anyone can look at Muriel and instantly think he’s one of those people who would play country music, for the most part that’s true. He does play the guitar and can sing okay, he does like country but his real love of music comes from indie artists.

He can’t really explain it but the music gives him a sense of carelessness and hope he’s never known.

Doesn’t really watch tv or movies, Muriel is almost always too busy for that but he’s found it the strangest thing, Inanna likes watching tv...

After that he got drawn in by the documentaries about animals, he didn’t really realize that people did shows about the habitats and behaviours of animals but he finds himself entranced by it when he passes by.

He soon relented and sits on the floor with his arm draped over Inanna as they watch documentaries about wolves in Alaska.

With the amount of animals Muriel raises anyone would call it a job, Muriel however would argue it's a hobby for him. Sure waking up every hour in the night to feed raccoon babies isn’t ideal but it's never been anything short of joyous to watch them go back to the wild.

Muriel's other hobby centres around his guitar and learning songs to play to himself and maybe a certain person *cough* MC *cough*.

He’s also an avid baker, none of his meals are ready made. Leading on from that he forages for mushrooms, and herbs rather than buys them.

Muriel doesn’t have a tattoo, only his scars.

He thought about getting some but he doesn’t trust someone to touch him that way and also he’s not a big fan of needles.

Probably a good thing otherwise Inanna and all his chickens names would be on his arm.

Portia

Absolutely suits the modern life in this universe, Portia somehow finds the time to do everything, the bustling worker or the relaxed dreamer.

She’s almost everywhere in the city, doing everything at once; working at Vesuvia Industries, grabbing the sweetest iced tea at the cafe, exploring the corruption of downtown streets.

Portia is obsessed with knowing every inch of the city, and what goes on inside it because it's a very strange city with a stranger history.

Portia is a great and helpful assistant to Nadia, but she’s also hiding a lot including her identity as Pasha Devorak the reporter for Vesuvian Times.

She has as many curious secrets as the city.

Portia previously lived in a small studio flat however since working for Nadia she has been lucky enough to afford to rent out a small cottage outside the city. She loves it so much and other than being in an AU not much has changed between the two cottages.

It’s shielded by so many grand trees and a vivacious garden that it feels like her own little world, the inside of the cottage is filled with hand knitted blankets, painted glass figurines and the warm smell of baked goods.

Sometimes its a bigger place than Portia can manage by herself but she likes taking to fixing things as they come along, she definitely is a fan of the saying “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it!”

Her clothing choices are just so cute and by no means is she afraid of showing off her cottage core style; jumpers, skirts, vest tops, crop tops and patterned blouses look really good on her. Of course the garden requires the heavy duty stuff, sweatpants, a tattered tee and the old hoodie that refuses to die.

She’s not to much into heels even though she’s short, Portia prefers pumps and loafers because “comfort over beauty!” (although she would be pretty cute with or without).

Nadia finds Portia’s headstrong and optimism very amusing and definitely takes a few life lessons from Portia.

Who needs to drive? Portia doesn’t, she loves taking the bus or the train wherever she goes. That way she can bop her head to her tunes while watching the landscape go by, in a beautiful intricate place like Vesuvia it's important to take it all in.

That and everyone can agree that Portia behind the wheel of a vehicle is a disaster, she just gets so distracted.

Nadia has offered Portia a new phone many times but Portia is plenty happy enough with her older gen 6 iphone (because if she got a new one she’d have to get wireless headphones!) Also she’d feel bad for Siri.

Unfortunately Pepi the cat came from terrible circumstances, certain circumstances where Portia jumped of a bridge after witnessing someone chuck a mewling bag into the river.

But Portia is so thankful for her amazing kitten, the two of them protect each other. Though Pepi’s idea of protecting Portia is making sure the birds don’t feed from the feeder outside and meowing at the fridge when it’s too loud.

Portia’s music taste is disarming to those who don’t know her well, she is a huge fan of rock, any rock music just so long as it’s good and a classic (ACDC, Queen, etc...) she likes to think she is a connoisseur of rock.

Julian can not put into words how much he abhorred it when his little sister would blast that music to drown out his.

Portia will either watch every movie or show when it comes out or will binge watch a show or movie after forgetting it existed. There is no inbetween, but she loves media, consumes it even.

Detective shows and spy movies are her favourite but she’ll enjoy just about anything unless it's a musical she was forced to watch one too many times because of Julian.

Portia has so many hobbies, one would say too many but she digresses.

Of course gardening is at the top of her list, moreso because the garden always needs doing but she gets a great sense of pride growing her own food and Pepi loves chasing the spiders that hide in the strawberries.

Portia is also a very avid blogger, there is a lot of conspiracy theories on there but with a following of half the city it seems pretty popular.

In her downtime Portia is loves to relax with her favourite soft drink and beat V3suviaC0unt#1 ass on her games console, she finds the shrieking of her enemy to be great fun.Portia’s love of games however soon transpired to collecting action figures of her favourite game characters.

She is very protective of them.

Like Muriel, Portia also doesn’t have a tattoo. It’s not that she’s afraid of needles but she just hasn’t found a reasonably good design to get yet.

Lucio

Lucio is definitely the one out of the six who was made for the modern world, sure being a Count is cool and all but in this world he can have both power and freedom and not have to sit in every meeting called.

He’s never once taken anything seriously, Lucio’s power has been built on the backs of others without him ever having to raise a finger.

It’s happened everywhere he goes, in the army he sacrificed the good of his teammates to rise in the ranks, he forced the Asra’s parents to make him the best prosthetic arm in history, he codled up to an old dying man to get his business and when he found out that wasn’t for him Lucio pawned it off to his wife and rolled onto the next devious plan.

Lucio’s been an army man, a CEO, a crime lord and the cause of “The Event” but maybe one day he’ll rise above those defining moments and be greater (but that is a story for another day).

Of course Lucio did live with Nadia for a time, but when he made her CEO Lucio took to calling his mansion home, Nadia wasn’t a fan of the creepy vibe it gave off which is just as well because Lucio hosts a lot of unsavoury characters...

True to form each room in that place has only the most expensive belongings, every bed is king size and the garage is filled with gas guzzling monstrosities of cars. It’s not cluttered by any means, but it's gaudy and shows off his wealth.

The only place things seem normal is the kitchen, Lucio doesn’t spend much time in there but on the wall sits a board of old memories when he got along with the others, they didn’t always find him unbearable.

Lucio’s torn it down and put it up so many times already he can never make up his mind if he wants to keep it.

Only thing Lucio ever liked about running a company were the expensive suits he was told he had to wear at least that was a great improvement on his fashion sense. Of course he’s not always wearing suits sometimes he’ll just wear a dress shirt with one too many buttons undone and a pair of white chinos and trainers.

Sunglasses are a must, that, and a lint roller. The dogs shed a lot...

As mentioned before Lucio has a lot of very pricey cars, he is the product of what would happen in Portia was given a car, he’d get distracted and crash it into the back of another vehicle.

He’s lucky anyone will insure him and that he has so many cars.

Lucio tried to be different to the ‘normies’ by getting his company to make a phone suitable to his taste. A phone that had two charging ports (to charge it twice as fast) and a waterproof casing (that kept it a bit too dry and hot so it spontaneously combusted in his pocket).

Lucio now has the latest iPhone instead.

Owns a lot of pets, the exotic eels, macaques, cockatoo, etc... The same as he does in the normal universe, none of which are particularly nice and well behaved. He prefers his fur babies Mercedes and Melinchor.

They were two dogs he saw fighting in dog fights and he was in love instantly buying them and bringing them to live with him, chaos follows those two like a bad odour.

Lucio decided that to be the cool rich guy he needed to like cool music, for the longest time he spent his time listening to hip hop no one really ever notices that Lucio in fact hates hip hop, he much prefers pop music.

It's a secret he will take to his grave but MC has definitely heard him singing to Katy Perry’s ‘Firework’ in the shower.

Lucio is the biggest movie buff in Vesuvia, he’s definitely offended when no one invites him to premieres, which is why he’s done all he can to get into movies (with little avail). And he will watch anything and enjoy it, he is usually one of those people who don’t realize the book exists when such a movie is out.

But do you know what his favourite kind of movies are?

Romantic-comedies, or just anything that's classed as romance. Date nights with Lucio are pretty good but he cries a lot, poor guy.

Just don’t get started with Lucio and hobbies, if he’s tried something once he’ll make out he knows everything about it and even if he hasn’t tried it he’ll pretend he has. He’s forever speaking out of his a** but no one dares call him out on it.

That being said Lucio really doesn’t have the capability to commit to a hobby, unless parties count? They don’t? They should!

Although one could say maybe planning parties does count...

Tattoos? Lucio has a few; his army number on the back of his neck, a sword piercing a heart on his chest and the twin silhouettes of the dogs running on the heel of his foot.

[jujymikey]

Gifts

Ever since Bruce came back from being lost in the time stream, he hasn’t been able to get close to his third son. He’s been able to connect with his other kids, even more so then before he got lost in the stream, but for some reason he and Tim haven’t been able to. Before he got lost, Bruce and Tim were the closest he has ever been with any of his sons. They talked all the time and they even hung out when they weren’t working on a case.

So when Christmas time starts approaching, Bruce is surprised when he has no idea what to get Tim. He’s only shared one Christmas with Tim back when Tim was Robin and his parents were away on some trip. He got Tim a camera that Tim used all the time, but Bruce doesn’t think he can give Tim the same gift twice. So Bruce decides to ask for some help.

“What’s up B?” Dick asks as he walks into Bruce’s study.

“Thank you for coming. I need your help with something about Tim.” Bruce gestures to the chair in front of his desk, “Please take a seat.”

“What’s wrong? Is Timmy ok?” Dick asks, worry spreads over his face.

“He’s fine. I just need help figuring out what to get him for Christmas.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I can help with that.” Dick frowns, “I haven’t gotten him anything yet...”

“You are the closet in the family to Tim, surly you have some sort of idea of what he’d like.”

“We aren’t close anymore... not since...” Dick trails off. There’s so much that they’ve all left out about what happened while he was gone.

“Since what?”

“Since I gave Robin to Damian. He didn’t take it well... he hasn’t really talked to me about anything besides cases.” Dick shakes his head, then immediately perks up, “We should work together to figure out what to get Tim!”

“Do you still have contact with the members of the teen titans? They know Tim pretty well.”

“Yeah, I’ll text Gar about it.” Dick pulls out his phone and stands up, “I do have to go now, but I’ll let you know what I find out.”

This time of year, stores send out magazines with gift suggestions. Usually the only one that cares about these magazines are Dick, but this year Bruce is the one reading through them. There’s a week until Christmas and Bruce hasn’t gotten any gifts for his kids yet. That’s why he’s sitting kitchen isle surrounded by magazines.

“Looks nice.” Cass sneaks up on him and looks at the magazine of men shoes.

“You want some men’s dress shoes?” Bruce smiles at her.

“They’re shiny.” Cass smiles and sits down in the chair next to him, “Whatcha doing?”

“Looking for Christmas gifts.” Bruce says flipping through the page, “I have an idea for most of you guys, but I’m having a hard time figuring out a gift for Tim.”

“I got Timmy a gift.” Cass flips through the magazines then points to a basketball, “I got basketball, because Tim is my basketball.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I’m glad you found a good gift.” Bruce flips to the page of men’s graphic t-shirts, “Do you think Tim would like one of these? He likes anime, this shirt has an anime girl and says ‘oppai’.”

“Tim wears suits and sweaters.”

“He used to wear t-shirts.” Bruce frowns, when he was Robin, Tim would wear all kinds of cartoon t-shirts. It’s been only a year since then, has Tim really changed that much?

On the 23rd the Christmas tree is surrounded by presents wrapped in colorful paper. Four of those gifts are from Bruce, but he still can’t figure out what to get for his fifth kid. The problem is that a Bruce doesn’t know what Tim is into anymore. Does he still like video games? Or comics? Or action movies?

Damian is the easiest one to buy for, Bruce got him some fancy paints. Dick is also really easy, Bruce just ordered the lucky charms but only marshmallows. Cass is a little more difficult, but it only requires a bit of thinking. He gets her an elementary school level English learning book. Jason is very difficult, he likes book, but Bruce isn’t sure which books he has and which he’d want. So Bruce got him a new armor set that Lucious created that has a built in chest taser. It seemed like something Jason would enjoy.

Bruce has spent two hours at the mall looking for the perfect gift for Tim. After looking through each store twice, Bruce finally gives up and calls Dick, “Did you talk to your titan friend about Tim?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t that helpful though. Gar just said that Tim likes to boss people around and paperwork.” Dick says over the phone, he can hear the others talking in the background, “I ended up getting him a new clipboard.”

“I don’t want to get him office supplies. I don’t want him to think of our relationship as only work.” Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose, he can’t spend two more hours walking cluelessly through the mall.

“Why don’t you try asking Jason? They’ve gotten pretty close since Jason stopped trying to kill Tim.” Dick suggests.

“At this point I’ll try anything, put him on the phone.”

“Old man, what do you want?” Jason huffs over the phone.

“Do you know what Tim likes?” Bruce asks bluntly.

“What? Is this a joke?”

“No, Dick says you and Tim have gotten close and I don’t know what to get him for Christmas.” Bruce explains quickly, he doesn’t want to tell Jason about this, but he hopes that Jason will be mature about this.

“Pffffttt, really B? You can’t figure out what to get your perfect little solider?” Jason laughs, “I almost killed Tim twice and I know more about him than you, thats so sad.”

“Jay, I don’t have time for this. I really need your help.”

“It’s really nice to hear you this desperate. This is so great.” Jason sighs contently, “Alright, I’ll help you.”

“Thank you.” Bruce breathes out in relief.

“I got Tim an action figure of some game of thrones character. Just get him something nerdy and he’ll like it.”

“Tim doesn’t have any action figures in his room.” Bruce frowns, Tim’s room has nothing but the essentials in it. The walls are completely blank, no posters or anything like that. If there wasn’t a bunch of case files spread across the room, it wouldn’t look like anyone even lived in there.

“Yeah, but he’s a nerd. He has to love action figures.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Bruce shakes his head, “Does Tim even watch game of thrones?”

“Of course he does! Everyone watches game of thrones!” He can practically hear Jason rolling his eyes, “You’re a hopeless case.”

Then Jason hangs up the phone, leaving Bruce to wander the mall for another three hours.

Bruce is starting to panic, it Christmas Eve and he still doesn’t have a gift for Tim. He’s resorted to snooping through Tim’s stuff. Tim is away on having a Christmas party with the teen titans, so he doesn’t have to worry about Tim catching him.

Most of the room is completely impersonal, so Bruce starts really digging through all of Tim’s stuff. His closet, drawers, Tim’s laptop. He can’t find anything even a little personal, if she didn’t know that Tim lived in here he’d never have known that was Tim’s room.

After searching through all of Tim’s stuff, Bruce sits down on Tim’s bed and tries to figure out what to do now.

“Father, what are you doing in Drake’s room?” Damian stands in the doorway of Tim’s room, he’s holding Alfred the cat.

“I’m trying to figure out what to get Tim for Christmas, it’s harder than I thought.” Bruce sighs.

“Come on, Father. Even I’ve gotten Drake a gift.” Damian says, setting the cat down on the floor and she runs underneath Tim’s bed.

“The gift better not be a knife to the stomach, because I will not allow any stabbing on Christmas.”

“Please, I wouldn’t ruin a perfectly good knife with Drake’s blood.” Damian rolls his eyes, “I got him a membership at the Metropolis museum so that he’ll be at home less.”

“That’s actually a nice gift.” Bruce sighs, his two sons that have tried to kill Tim are getting Tim a better gift than he is.

“You’re a detective father, it’s not that hard to figure out Drake.” Damian pats Bruce’s head, “Drake is a very simple man.”

“I’m sure I’ll figure something out in the next few hours.”

Christmas Day comes way sooner that Bruce expects. It’s 5 am and Bruce is just now getting home from the store, finally finding a gift for Tim. He didn’t have time to wrap it, so he bought a gift bag to put it in. Placing the bag under the tree, Bruce sinks down into the couch.

“Long night, sir?” Alfred asks handing Bruce a cup of coffee.

“Thanks Alfred.” Bruce down half of the cup in one go, “I’ve been out all night.”

“With a lady friend I presume.” Alfred sits down on the couch with a cup of tea in his hand.

“Actually, I was out shopping for a gift for Tim.”

“Waiting to the very last minute I see.” Alfred shakes his head in disappointment, “I ordered master Timothy’s gift months ago. A tea of the month set. I’ll get that boy to like tea eventually.”

“I just don’t know like I used to.” Bruce sighs into his cup, “I guess I’ve just realized that we aren’t close anymore.”

“Master Timothy has been distant from the family for awhile now.” Alfred stares down into his tea, “I’m afraid the boy doesn’t feel like he’s wanted here.”

“I didn’t realize it was that bad. I thought it was just me that’s fallen out of touch with Tim.”

“The only reason Timothy moved back into the manor was because you’ve come back.” Alfred says and gives Bruce a small smile, “He really cares about you.”

“I care about him too, I just can’t figure out how to show him how much I care about him.” Bruce drinks the rest of his coffee, “I couldn’t even figure what to get him, I just got him something random and I don’t even know if he’ll like it or not.”

“I’m sure he’ll love whatever you got him. It’s the thought that counts. You just need to tell him that you love him.” Alfred pats his shoulder and stands up, “I will go make breakfast now and I’ll get you another cup of coffee.”

Christmas breakfast goes way better than most meals in this family goes. No one fights and no one gets stabbed. Then it’s time for presents.

Dick is like a little kid, dressed in his Superman pjs separating his gifts from the others. Jason is sitting on the couch eating cookies. Cass is next to Jason sharing the cookies. Damian is sitting on the floor with Titus and Alfred the cat. Tim is sitting on the couch drinking his third cup of coffee. Bruce stand behind the couch nervously waiting for his kids to open the presents.

“You don’t need to be so nervous.” Alfred smiles and gently pats Bruce’s back.

“I’m not nervous.” Bruce grumbles into his sixth cup of coffee.

Dick, Damian, Jason and Cass all open their gifts and love each one of them, even the ones that Bruce got for them. The only presents left are Tim’s. They look over at Tim and find him on his phone.

“Timmy! The only gifts left are yours.” Dick says in a sing song voice.

“Oh, were we taking turns?” Tim looks up from his phone.

“Here my gift.” Cass hands him her gift.

“Thanks, Cass.” Tim smiles and opens the poorly wrapped gift, “Oh wow a basketball. I love it.”

“You basketball.” Cass bops Tim’s nose.

“Here’s my gift replacement.” Jason throws his gift at Tim.

Tim opens the gift and tilts his head, “Who’s this?”

“It’s John Snow from Game of Thrones!”

“I don’t watch game of thrones, I don’t really have time for tv.” Tim sets the gift down, “But thank you.”

“You suck.” Jason throws a cookie at Tim.

“Now my gift!” Dick hands Tim his gift.

“Oh wow... a clipboard... I love it.” Tim smiles at Dick and Dick lights up. Bruce knows Tim enough that it’s a fake smile, but Dick doesn’t seem to notice.

“I guess it’s mine turn.” Damian huffs and hands Tim a card.

“Wow this is a really nice gift.” Tim says after opening the card, “You’re not going to stab me as payment for this gift right?”

“Keep it up and I might.” Damian growls.

“Here’s my gift, Timothy.” Alfred hands him his gift.

“Tea.” Tim smiles soft at the box, “I love it.”

“Here’s a gift from me.” Bruce grumbles and hands Tim the bag.

Tim opens the bag and pulls out the anime t-shirt that says ‘oppai’ on it. Tim burst out laughing, “You don’t know what that means do you?”

“....it has an anime character on it... and you like anime...” Bruce says dumbly.

“I do, thank you.” Tim smiles at him.

After presents are done, everyone spreads out and goes on their own, giving Bruce time to talk to Tim alone. He finds Tim curled up in a chair in the library watches videos on his phone.

“Tim, can I talk to you?” Bruce asks sitting in a chair near Tim.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Tim asks setting down his phone. It’s weird his other kids call him B and Damian calls him Father, but Tim does his best not to address him.

“I want to spend more time with you.”

“...is this a joke?” Tim asks with confused look on his face.

“A joke?” Bruce frowns.

“Or is something wrong?” Tim sits ups, “Or is this about a case?”

“This isn’t about a case or anything like that. I want to spend more time with you not doing work or cases or anything like that.” Bruce hates that he has to explain this. If he asked Dick or Damian to hang out, neither would ask if it was a joke, “Ever since I came back from the time stream, you and I haven’t had any personal time together. I’ve missed a whole year of your life and I want catch up on what I’ve missed.”

“Oh....” Tim blinks at him, then blinks a couple more times trying to stop the tears from forming in his eyes, “I-if you want...?”

“Of course I want to.” Bruce smiles, “You’re my son and I love spending time with you.”

Instead of replying, Tim pounces on him. Bruce holds Tim close to him, it’s been so long since he’s held Tim. He feels smaller than the last time he’s held Tim, which concerns Bruce, but he decides to bring that up later.

“So do you actually like the shirt?”

Tim wipes his tears off his cheeks and lays his head on Bruce’s shoulder, “Bruce, ‘Oppai’ means boobs.”

Bruce stares in shock as Tim just laughs at him.

[searchingwardrobes]

Not the Type: 2/7

Thanks again to the mods of the @captainswanmoviemarathon​ for putting this event together! Also thanks to @hookedonapirate​ for her beta skills. For my non-American readers, I hope I explained everything in this chapter, especially bust-throughs, adequately enough. I don't know that I've ever seen that aspect of cheerleading portrayed in a movie before (though I could be wrong). But if you search google images for bust-throughs, you'll see pictures of what I'm talking about.

Summary: Emma Swan first notices him in the stands at the Friday night football game. She can tell right away Killian Jones is not the football type. Then again, she’s not the cheerleader type either, but here she is with pom poms. Life hasn’t ever gone the way Emma planned. Lately, that’s actually been a good thing. Maybe Killian Jones is a good thing, too.

My loose Captain Swan AU of the movie Bring it On

Rated: T

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells​​​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​​ @let-it-raines​​​​ @teamhook​​​​​ @bethacaciakay​​​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​​ @shireness-says​​​​​ @stahlop​​​​​ @scientificapricot​​​​​ @welllpthisishappening​​​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​​​​ @thislassishooked​​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​ @kday426​​​​​ @ekr032-blog-blog​​​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​​ @nikkiemms​​​​ @optomisticgirl​​​​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​​​ @carpedzem​​​​ @ohmakemeahercules​​​​​ @branlovestowrite​​​​ @superchocovian​​​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​​​​ @vvbooklady1256​​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​​​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​​​​ @jennjenn615​​​​ @snidgetsafan​​ @spartanguard​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​

At the next game, he wasn’t in the stands. Not that Emma was looking or anything. And she wasn’t disappointed. Nope, not at all.

“Earth to Emma!”

She jumped and turned to Ruby, who was squatting with her hands cupped in front of her. Ashley was across from the brunette, doing the same.

“We haven’t got all day,” Ruby grumbled.

“Sorry,” Emma told them hurriedly. She braced her hands on their shoulders as Ariel, her spotter, came behind her and grasped her waist. Emma jumped up into the girls’ cupped hands. They dipped with her, bending their knees together, then popped her up to chin level, with a light assist from Ariel. Behind them, another stunt group lifted Jasmine up above their heads. Down below, Mary Margaret and another girl pulled on the ropes to hoist the giant bust-through to an upright position. The bust-through they had spent hours making last Sunday afternoon, only for it to get obliterated in mere minutes. Making the bust-throughs for the game and the posters to hang around the school would take away from much needed practice time, so they came in on Sundays to do it instead. Emma had chafed at it initially - they all did, really - but the girls ended up having a blast every week. It still wasn’t fair that they were taken away from their athletic training to do 1950s crap for the boys, but oh well.

When the bust-through post was close enough, Emma grabbed it. Farther up, Jasmine held it as well. On the other side of the bust-through, the rest of the squad was doing the same. The stadium speakers suddenly thrummed with Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” and the fans surged to their feet. Below Emma, the football team thundered past with a feral yell before tearing through the yards of poster paper. Ariel braced her thighs and Emma tightened her core so she wouldn’t fall. Every damn time, she felt her life flash before her eyes. The only comfort came in her absolute trust that Ariel would catch her. She discarded the post, and behind her Ariel counted out loud, “1, 2, 3, hup!”

Ruby and Ashley bent their knees, then pushed through with their arms to pop Emma up into the air. She kept her core tight, her knees together, toes pointed, and her arms out in the shape of a “T” so the three girls could catch her neatly. It was a simple stunt, actually, and not as high or dangerous as most Emma was used to. They just didn’t usually do stunts on hard packed turf with twenty large high school boys rushing past.

Half the girls ran around as fast as possible to pick up all the bits of poster paper, while the other half hoisted up the pvc pipes they used for the posts and rolled up the ropes that held the bust-through. Those had to be reused every time.

Arms loaded with crumpled up poster paper that smelled of glue and tempera paint, Emma raced off the field as fast as she could before the opposing team came running out not caring if they bowled over a five foot five, ninety pound cheerleader.

She really hated football season.

The girls shoved the remains of the bust-through into the trash, then slid the pvc pipes and ropes underneath the bleachers to put in the cheer supply closet later. Then they lined up on the sidelines for the kickoff, their poms shaking in the air.

“Gooooooo Knights!”

Like every other game, the marching band followed the kick off with the school fight song, and Emma was busy high kicking when she saw him. Killian stood out like a sore thumb - the only one in the student section not chanting, “fight, fight, fight!” Instead, he was lounging back against the bleacher behind him, glancing around at his fellow students with a mocking expression upon his face. Emma felt her lips curl up into a smile - probably the first time she didn’t have to force one during this exhausting Rockette’s-style dance. Her legs burned as usual when the song finally ended, but it didn’t bother her quite as much when Killian caught her eye and winked. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her smile from growing and spun away from him with a tilt to her chin.

“Push em back!” Mary Margaret, their captain, yelled. “Ready? Go!”

The girls all chanted together, going through the motions of the cheer. “Push em back, push em back, defense push em waaaaay back!” They went through it twice before efficiently moving into their stunt groups. Ruby and Ashley tossed Emma into the air this time, with Ariel giving her an extra boost. In the air, Emma twisted her body in a layout, the rush of it sending adrenaline through her veins. It only lasted a moment before her stunt group caught her in their arms, but Emma would never tire of the thrill that the brief moment of weightlessness brought her.

Emma popped out of the dismount with her arms above her head. “Go Knights!”

She never had to fake enthusiasm when she got to do a stunt like that. Her eyes caught Killian’s again. Both eyebrows arched, he managed a half bow from his seat in the stands, both arms outstretched dramatically. Emma shook her head with laughter, though his obvious admiration of her skills sent a thrill through her. Nevertheless, she rolled her eyes at him.

Just then, Emma heard the loud grunts and collisions of a particularly nasty tackle. The crowd gasped, and next to Emma, Mary Margaret dropped her pom poms.

“David!” she cried out, then her hands flew to her mouth.

Emma let out a cry too when she saw her brother lying motionless on the field. Instinctively, she reached for his girlfriend, and Mary Margaret threaded her arm through hers. The cheerleaders all took a knee, but Emma and Mary Margaret never let go of each other.

“Get up, get up,” Emma whispered.

David started moving his legs, and the girls let out a sigh of relief. He was able to get up without the aid of the coaches hovering over him, and the crowd cheered. He had a slight limp at first, but his leg must have just been stiff because his stride soon became normal. He took off his helmet and grinned and waved at the crowd. The cheerleaders stood again and waved their poms above their heads in celebration. Next to Emma, Mary Margaret was still shaking a little bit.

“He scared me to death,” she told Emma.

“I know,” Emma replied, and a shiver went down her spine as she thought about how bad it could have been. David was always pointing out that she and Mary Margaret could fall out of a stunt and break their necks just as easily as he could, but it felt different. Football injuries just felt way more common, and then there were all those retired pros with neurological problems. David said that playing at the college level was unlikely since Storybrooke High was just a double A team, and she was secretly glad. The less he smashed his brains in, the better.

David was the big brother she never knew she needed, accepting her, teasing her, and irritatingly trying to protect her from the moment her prickly thirteen year old self had arrived in his home.

He had also sat on the sidelines at how many gymnastics classes? Classes she had dreamed of taking since she watched Gabby Douglas win the Olympic gold medal on TV when she was eight years old. Then, when Emma was twelve, Simone Biles became her hero. A former foster kid winning Olympic gold? Emma didn’t think such a thing was possible, but Biles gave her hope. Then Ruth Nolan made that hope reality.

“Whatever your dreams are, Emma,” she had told her, “I’ll invest in them. It’s what a mother does.”

Emma was behind, of course. She’d had school friends as she grew up who taught her the basics on the playground - handstands, cartwheels, back walkovers. She’d even learned to do back handsprings in the backyard of one of her foster homes. Still, her goal to make the high school gymnastics team seemed almost impossible. Then she read about Misty Copeland, the star principal dancer for the American Ballet Theater who didn’t start dancing until . . . thirteen. Surely, if she could defy the common thought that girls had to start ballet at three or four to achieve greatness, then Emma could defy the same thought in gymnastics. And with the support of Ruth and David, she had. She’d made the gymnastics team as a freshman at Storybrooke High.

Then, after one amazing season on the team, they had received the devastating news: the state of Maine was cutting high school gymnastics completely. Ignorant politicians spun it, of course. There would still be a state meet each year where gymnasts would represent their schools in individual competition. It would just be privatized, the politicians explained, saving taxpayers thousands of dollars. Privatized was a fancy way of saying that only gymnasts in clubs at private gyms could compete. Clubs that cost an extravagant amount of money. Money that Ruth Nolan simply didn’t have.

And that was how Emma Swan ended up a cheerleader.

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

“You and Mary Margaret still wanna stay over at my house?” Ruby asked after the game as she slung her cheer bag over one shoulder.

“Of course we do,” Mary Margaret replied. “Right Emma?”

“Yeah sure,” Emma said vaguely as she pulled the rubber band out of her hair and shook out the loose waves. Cheer ponytails were so tight they gave her a headache. Of course, as a gymnast, she’d had to put her hair in an equally tight, equally hairsprayed bun. She rubbed at her scalp. Maybe she should chop her hair off like Mary Margaret. No, scratch that, she didn’t have the flawless skin and cherubic face to pull that off like MM did.

“Are you sure?” Ruby asked with a glint in her eyes. “Killian lives there now, you know.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m familiar with what a foster brother is. Of course I know he lives with you.”

“Just wanted to be sure you could handle the sexual tension,” Ruby said, bumping Emma teasingly with her hip as they headed to the parking lot.

“For the last time, there is no sexual tension between me and Killian!”

“You did have cheer sex with him.”

“Mary Margaret! I thought you didn’t buy into that crap!”

“Did I just say that out loud?” MM’s face was crimson.

Ruby threw her head back and guffawed. “Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Emma.”

“God, if you two don’t stop . . . I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”

“You’ll what?”

Emma grasped for a good threat. “Smother you with a pom pom!” she finally blurted out, waving the one she still grasped in her hand in Ruby’s face.

MM literally collapsed against the side of Ruby’s car in hysterics, and even Emma lost it. It wasn’t really that funny, but they were all simultaneously exhausted and electrified from the game. Once they calmed down, they tossed their stuff in Ruby’s trunk. There was only a pleasant chill to the air this early in the season, so Ruby put the top of her convertible down, and Emma leaned contentedly against the headrest as the wind rushed past. The football team had won tonight’s game, and there was a spirit of celebration in the air as Ruby drove through the parking lot and out onto the street in front of Storybrooke High. When kids and even adults noticed a red convertible with three cheerleaders in red and white, they raised their fists in the air and shouted, “Go knights!”

“You know, it would mean a lot more if they were cheering for our victory instead of someone else’s,” Ruby commented dryly as they cruised through Storybrook’s only light after it turned green.

Mary Margaret leaned between them from the backseat, which surprised Emma, since the brunette was usually all “safety first.”

“Well, that’s all gonna change come December 5th ladies when we-”

Ruby lifted one fist in the air as she joined Mary Margaret in her cry of, “TAKE STATE!!!”

“Now wait a second, slow down,” Emma cautioned. “We have to place at regionals first.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Please, Emma, Storybrooke has dominated regionals since we were all in kindergarten.”

“Well, if there’s one thing gymnastics has taught me, it’s to not get cocky, so don’t jinx it, okay?”

“We also need to have confidence,” Mary Margaret added, giving Emma’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Confidence, not pride. Now sit back and put on your damn seat belt.”

“Intense much, Emma?”

Ruby tilted her chin and practically howled at the moon. “Someone needs to. GET. LAID.”

Emma lunged over and clapped her hand over Ruby’s mouth before she could add anything further. “Don’t. Say it.”

“God, Emma, she’s driving!”

Ruby pinched Emma in the side with her free hand, sending the blonde jerking back to the passenger’s side. “Why Emma, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

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

Killian Jones knew that Emma Swan was just down the hall from his bedroom - keenly aware of it. Just as he had been aware of her since the night he’d first seen her. He had been completely honest when he told her that it was her expression and not her body that had drawn him in. If he’d wanted to ogle enticing figures in short skirts, he would have just been staring at the entire squad since the game started. But it was Emma Swan’s clearly irritated, flashing green eyes that had managed to tear his gaze away from Tolkien. He wasn’t sure what she had against the marching band’s rendition of “Louie, Louie,” but the hatred clearly ran deep.

He clenched his jaw as laughter floated down the hall from Ruby’s room, and he adjusted the knobs on his guitar effects pedal to distract him. Granny had been abundantly clear that he was to stay far away from Ruby’s friends.

He was a little offended at Granny’s lecture, to be honest. As if he were a dog in heat unable to ignore the scent of females.

Killian strummed his electric, then adjusted the feedback again. Halfway through Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy,” he’d pushed thoughts of Emma Swan far away.

Until he glanced up in the middle of a frankly ridiculous, out of control guitar solo to find her standing there in his doorway, slack-jawed and staring. She was tantalizing in a teeny, tiny pair of shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top, her blonde hair piled up on her head in a messy bun. He managed not to drop his guitar and flashed her a lopsided grin as he continued to play.

“Emma!”

The girl in question jumped a foot in the air, clutching her hands that held a purple toothbrush to her chest. “Shit, Ruby!”

“What are you doing?” Killian’s foster sibling asked from the hallway.

“I, uh . . . went to brush my teeth.”

“Um, the bathroom is that way.”

“Right, right, I knew that,” Emma mumbled.

Killian winked at her before she scurried away, still strumming. So maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt the delicious tension between them. This was a pleasant turn of events . . .

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

Emma grumbled at herself under her breath as she squirted toothpaste onto her toothbrush. She couldn’t believe Killian had caught her staring - practically drooling - over him. The way he’d smirked at her as he continued to play left no question that he knew she was checking him out. She was pretty sure Ruby knew it, too. Yet in her defense, how was a girl supposed to ignore an attractive guy when he was playing the guitar?

Emma started to brush, a little too vigorously at first. She was irritated with herself, but she didn’t need to scrub her gums raw, so she slowed down. She almost jumped out of her skin when Killian came through the open bathroom door behind her, but she calmed herself before he noticed. He winked at her as he retrieved his toothbrush from the cup by the sink and got some toothpaste. Emma arched a brow at him as she continued to brush. Somehow, the idiot managed to smile at her charmingly even as he worked the toothbrush around his mouth. She rolled her eyes and looked at her reflection instead, but that didn’t work either. His gaze only found her reflection in the mirror, and he waggled his eyebrows at her. She almost choked on her toothpaste.

Then he spit, rinsed, and ran his hand across his mouth in exaggerated, satisfied fashion. “Ahh,” he said, then bowed to her and left.

Emma scowled at her own reflection in the mirror. Stupid attractive eyebrows. No one was supposed to look that good brushing his teeth. She finished brushing, rinsed, then headed back down the hall to Ruby’s room. Her friends stopped chatting the minute she walked in.

“What?”

Ruby arched a brow. “Please, Emma. I caught you drooling over Killian when you were supposed to be brushing your teeth.”

Mary Margaret pointed an accusing finger. “And you’re smiling.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she tossed her toothbrush into her overnight bag. “So I’m smiling. So what?”

“So, you don’t normally walk around smiling. It’s not the natural resting state of your face.”

Emma laughed as she plopped down on Ruby’s bed with her friends and grabbed some potato chips. “The natural resting state of my face?”

“Yeah,” Ruby explained. “Take MM here. She naturally smiles. Just walks around smiling. You - not so much.”

“Okay, fine,” Emma muttered around a chip, “so I think he’s cute. Are you happy now?”

“Very.”

Emma lifted a hand the minute she saw Mary Margaret’s face. “I think he’s cute. That’s it. I’m not saying I like him or that I want to date him, just that objectively I can admit he’s cute.”

“Puppies are cute, Emma,” Mary Margaret pointed out, “that guy in there is not just cute.”

“How is he your foster brother anyway, Ruby?” Emma asked, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere else.

“Oh, that. Well, Granny knew his mom from way back. They used to come visit every summer when we were kids. Anyways, when Killian’s dad left, he asked if she’d take him.”

Emma blinked. “Wait, his dad just dumped him here? And where’s his mom?”

“She died of cancer a few years back.” Ruby shrugged. “And I don’t know, his dad wanted to go back to England or something. Killian gets pissed whenever I bring him up, so I’m not really sure. He has a brother too, but Liam’s in the Navy.”

Emma fell silent as she grabbed more chips. As she munched, she tried to imagine being sent to a new town, new school so your dad could . . . what? Live his own life with no responsibilities? It was pretty screwed up.

The sound of an electric guitar filled the apartment above Granny’s diner once again, and Ruby let out a huff of frustration as she stomped to her door.

“Kill, seriously? Can you stop with the guitar already?”

“I live here too,” Killian shouted back.

“Both of you shut up so I can sleep,” Granny yelled at them both.

Mary Margaret and Emma caught each other’s eye and burst out laughing. Ruby groaned then slammed the door shut.

“I’m serious, Emma. If he starts dating you, maybe he won’t be around here so much, driving me insane!”

“That’s not very romantic, Rubes,” MM scolded.

“And remember, Emma Swan doesn’t date.”

“Emma Swan needs to stop referring to herself in the third person.”

Emma didn’t have her poms anymore, so she threw a pillow at Ruby’s head instead.

[vanchlo]

Birdy (Green Eyes / 2)

Read the first part, Green Eyes, here! :-) 

Blurb Synopsis: After finally meeting the mysterious Mr. Styles you subbed for, you take a job at the same school, right across the hall from him. You’re unsure how much longer you can hide your feelings for him as you’ve grown to become best friends. 

Genre: Teacher Harry, fluff, romance, angst, and a little sad.

Warnings: None

Word Count: Nearly 8k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Blackbird by The Beatles (click to listen)

*

Your desk was covered in Twix wrappers, multicolored gel pens, and empty cans of Coke. The new school year hadn’t even begun, and your desk already looked like a tornado had come by. Not to mention the fact that school started in almost three weeks and you hardly had any classroom books. You kept telling yourself it’s a high school English classroom, not a third-grade classroom. There’s a library down the hall for a reason, but the classroom barren of books drove you nuts. Your desk wasn’t shy to books though, as favorites of Harry had found a home on the dark wood. 

Leaves of Grass. 

Catcher in the Rye. 

The Sun Also Rises. 

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. 

Walking into your classroom on this sunny morning, the thought makes the smile on your face grow wider. Finally, you can say that you have your own classroom. The sight of the week-old books leaves the smile there on your lips. A laugh dances off of them at the sight of the Roald Dahl book, bringing you back to the memory when you found it there one morning. 

You had asked Harry why he included it in the occasional stack of books he loaned to you. He said it’s required reading, because so few people know the movies are based on a book. You’re just wondering when he’s going to slip The Outsiders or Stuart Little under your door next. 

The rows of ancient cream desks stare back at you, and you wonder just how you’re going to command a classroom in a few days. Well, seven of them to be exact. Then you try to remind yourself, for the twentieth time, that you’ve done this before. It won’t be so hard, then. Perhaps you’ll even have some past students, and that should help. Right? 

You’ve barely gotten a few steps into your classroom, because of the thoughts muddling your mind. Sighing, you slip off your bag to leave on your chair. One that some days you don’t even sit in, because your legs are walking miles around your classroom, setting up. Thumbtacks are scattered across the expanse of your desk, reminding you of the unfinished walls. Before you can think about the posters sitting in the corner, a flash of pink catches your eye. Furrowing your brow, your eyes flit back to the flash of color. 

It’s a hot pink Post-It note with messy handwriting in black ink. 

Should I get us burgers or subs for the meeting we have today? 

PS: You’re officially a teacher now with your own pad of Post-Its ;) 

You’re sure that the insane happiness painting your face would look more at home on that of a teenager. Nonetheless, you can’t get rid of it, and you wouldn’t want to. This rings even more true when you see the note is stuck to a copy of Matilda. A warmth blossoms in your chest as you pick it up, running your thumb along the weathered edges. Ones you haven’t touched in ages, it seems. Within seconds you’re stepping into the hallway, thoughts knitting together in your mind. They’re from the love you have deep down for this story, a favorite book, and movie of yours as a child. The elation budding in your mind stops when you find his door closed, just as you had minutes ago. Unable to hide your disappointment, a pout tugs at your lips as you turn around. 

“Ya gotta verdict already? Dat was quick,” a voice drawls from behind you. Your pout is a thing of the past, and a grin is making its way to replace it. Spinning around, your summery dress follows your twirling body. 

A couple paces away, Harry stands at the top step of the staircase. His trademark brown leather backpack is slung over one shoulder. A black Fleetwood Mac t-shirt hugs his upper half, a black and blue flannel covering his arms. His old skool Vans echo down the hallway as he walks towards you. 

“Well, I’ve already read it,” you inform him, observing his content smile turn into a confused one. “A couple of times actually. Once when I was 8, then some other times through the years.”

“Ah, so I got lucky and happened upon a lifetime favourite, have I?” he smirks, only a few steps away now. 

“Mmmhmm,” you nod, your growing hair tickling your chin before you move it away. “When are you going to tell me what your favorite book is?”

“When ya finally guess it right,” he quips, stopping in front of you. A dimple falls into his left cheek as he shows off his sparkling teeth. Okay, sir, it is too early in the morning to be looking this attractive. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to stop being so chipper when it’s only nine in the morning,” you tell him firmly, but it’s all for show. Poking his chest, your finger just hits pure muscle. Swoon. 

“Then maybe wake up, already, birdy,” he chirps, the Raybans in his hair moving when his head goes from side to side. Chuckling, he grabs hold of your finger and tries to bite it, but you pull away in time. The mention of the recent pet name slows you down, but you haven’t gotten bitten yet. “Ya betta not fall asleep in today’s meetin’ like ya did last week.”

“I didn’t fall asleep, I was just resting my eyes!” you exclaim, throwing your hands into the air. His amused giggle greets your ears as he unclips his ring of keys from his blue jeans. 

“Yes ya did, ya don’t getta lie t’ me, love,” he responds in between laughs, seemingly finding this more amusing than it really is. 

“Oh, so John can fall asleep at meetings, but I can’t?” you ask, your voice raising with laughter and faux annoyance. 

You watch Harry pluck his sunglasses from his head as you walk into his dark classroom. The streams of sunlight speckle desks and pictures donning his walls. As you flick on the light, the smell of oranges wafts over you again. The red bowl sat upon his desk filled with the citrus makes you feel at home, albeit his mere presence does that without fail. 

“No, ya can’t. Sorry, love. I don’t make tha rules ‘round here.”

“Lame,” you sigh, paging through the book mindlessly as you fall into his new chair. He finally splurged and bought a comfy leather one that you steal every chance you can get. 

“Want a Bit-O-Honey, honey?” Harry offers, pulling your eyes away from the familiar pictures. Grinning, you take the wrapped candy from his outstretched hand, trying to ignore the pet name. You find it hard to forget as you half look through the book and half watch him peel off his flannel. A sight, indeed. 

“Wait, how’d you put this in my room if the door was locked? The other books you sneaked in when I stepped out,” you ask suddenly, working on the piece of hard candy in your mouth. 

“I tol’ Marty tha janitor I forgot sumthin’ in yer room.” 

You can hear the smirk in his voice even though his back is to you. A broad one at that. When he turns just the slightest to peek at you, you find crinkles around his glimmering eyes. 

“Harry!” you scoff, your jaw falling to your chest, although not quite. 

“Oh stop it, ya know ya like it.”

Groaning, you cross your arms over your chest in annoyance, but it doesn’t last very long. 

“I don’t like all of these meetings,” you complain, throwing your head back onto the headrest. You flip to a page that makes you smile at the sight of cartoon Matilda. 

“Get used t’ it, ‘s one o’ tha big differences between bein’ a sub an’ a salaried teacher. Shoulda just stayed a sub then,” he jokes, driving you to pick up a Bit-O-Honey and throw it at his head. Turning away from the things he’s unloading from his backpack, he whines. “Heeey! Watch dat arm o’ yers, ‘s a scary one. Maybe ya should be teachin’ gym class instead.”

“Sports are ew,” you reply, ducking when he throws it back at you. “Harry Styles, you stop it!” you manage in between giggles, finally closing the book. 

“Oh ya, and what’re ya gonna do ‘bout it in t’ose heels, huh?” he teases, his hands leaving the pockets of his oversized backpack. “Ya gonna fly over t’ me, li’l birdy?” 

Huffing, you set down the book on his neat desk. Placing his hands on his hips, he turns to you and sticks out his tongue. 

“Oh, that’s it! You’re going to get it!” you threaten, standing from the chair as his laughter fills the room. 

“‘m soooo scared, boohoo,” he teases with a fake sob, his fists mimicking wiping tears from his cheeks. Snickering, he returns to his backpack. “Go hang up yer posters in yer room and leave me be fer once.” 

“You’re no fun,” you proclaim with a final whimper. Grabbing the book, you come up from behind him, softly hitting him with it on the shoulder. 

“I warned you,” he retorts. Before you know it, he gently grabs your wrist and pulls you over to stand in front of him. 

“Warned me about what?” you jest, a giggle wedging its way into your sentence as you drop the book onto a desk. You know that you’re getting on his nerves now. It’s the only time you’ve heard his teacher voice come out, but hey, you’re not complaining. 

His thick eyebrows above those eyes raise, wrinkling his forehead tan from your days at the beach the last few months. Harry pushing you off a rope swing into the water, him bitching about doing all of the paddling during your canoe trip, not so accidentally drenching your back with water from his paddle, and head dunking competitions while swimming. The tan looks far better on him, you think, as you admire the sun-kissed freckles peppering his face. 

“I told ya one time dat yer good at pushin’ me buttons, and here ya are doin’ it. I know I shoulda neva told ya dat,” he mutters, the curls atop his head dancing as his head rocks back and forth. The nervous laughter bubbling inside of you finds its escape, and you know that you’ve done it now. “But I guess ya jus’ don’t listen, do ya, bird?” 

You can’t stop yourself, and there you are poking his dimple with your finger. This time, you squeal when it finds its way between his nibbling teeth. His name leaves your lips in a near shout which only grows worse as his fingers dance along your ribs. 

“Stop, stop!” you cry out, but with no avail. His other arm comes around your middle to trap you with your back against a desk, despite your squirming. His other fingers dig into your sides before finding the soft flesh of your tummy. 

“Stop bloody screamin’, yer gonna make e’rybody think ‘m murderin’ ya or sumthin’,” he titters. You almost give in at the sight of his crinkly eyes and the smile stretching across his face. 

“And what if I don’t?” 

“Then I might jus’ hafta find a way t’ shut ya up, my li’l bird,” he coos from above you, a brunette brow raising. 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes, really,” he hums, the tips of his fingers ghosting over your side now. 

His bubblegum lips relax, falling into a knowing smirk. The laughs disappear from the both of you as his fingers still, resting on your side. The seconds tick by as your heart hammers in your chest, because his face is closer than it was a second ago. You gulp, suddenly finding the gold flecks in his eyes you didn’t know were there. Or the smattering of tiny freckles along his nose. That all becomes a thought of the past when his lips become the only thing you can think about as they near you. “Shall I?” Harry says in a breathy whisper, and you’re nodding even before his last syllable hits the air. 

Your skin feels hot and prickly all over as your eyes fall closed, waiting for what happens next. The very thing you’ve dreamed of since that day you dropped the books in front of him. When he took off his shirt at the beach, revealing his toned chest covered in black tattoos. The charisma and kindness he carried at your very first meeting after you were hired, the beginning of you two being joined at the hip. 

His lips are soft when he presses them against yours, and warm. He surrounds your lips with his slowly, as excitement rushes through you. A woodsy smell engulfs you when your nose brushes against his prickly cheek. His lips feel like velvet against yours with the slightest taste of Carmex chapstick. You’re sure he can feel the smile hiding on yours as his top lip fits between yours like a puzzle piece. His thin beard you’ve never seen him without tickles at your skin as your lips mold together. You can still feel the tingle on your lips after he’s pulled away. As well as the one that spreads across your body when those green eyes look into yours. 

“See, I was right. It did get you t’ shuddup,” he mumbles, the blissed-out smirk on his face covering every inch of his skin. You’ve seen his nervous smiles and everything in between, but you’re certain you’ve never seen that smile before. Not that your face is any better, because right now it’s a competition between whose smile is bigger. It might just be a tie, and you wish there could be a tie-breaker. 

“You should do that more often,” you smile, an uneasy laugh bringing an end to your risky words. 

“I think ‘d be happy with dat.”

You try to tell yourself you’re glad his hands didn’t stray to your face, because he would’ve felt the heat of your tomato likened cheeks. There’s no use, because you want them there, but on your sides, as they are is better than nothing. It fills your stomach with multitudes of butterflies just to have your hands on each other. 

His hands draw shapes into your back when you wrap him in a hug. The fresh smell of his citrus body wash fills your nose, your skin touching the fabric of his shirt. 

“Ya gonna get all soft on me now, are ya?” he whispers above you, his cheek against the side of your head. 

“Mmmhmm,” is all you can muster as you find yourself dragging the tips of your fingers along his side. 

Raising your head to peek up at him, his eyes drop to you. “Good, I like ya dat way,” he murmurs, running his thumb along the roundness of your cheek. His tongue peeks out of his lips, held between his teeth. “Verdict?” he almost laughs, causing the butterflies inside of you to stir. 

“I don’t know. I think I might need um, another sample,” you smirk, watching a corner of his mouth meet his cheek. 

“Tha’s fair,” he agrees before dipping to plant another kiss to your lips. His lips are even more decadent a second time, and you quickly realize how addicting this could become. You realize it’s the only addiction you’d be okay with having as the tip of his nose caresses your cheek. 

Your lips part with a soft smack, much too soon for your liking. “We should prolly get back t’ work,” Harry snickers, his breath against your face sweet from the caramel candy. 

“Yeah,” you agree aloud, much to your dismay. “I’d give it an A, by the way.”

“Hmmm,” he thinks aloud, quirking his eyebrows in response. 

“A long overdue one.”

“‘d say yer right there,” he echos, pinching your cheek between his fingers. Giggling, you pull away as your laughs mix with each other’s. 

“Hey, Harry!” a voice calls, sounding far away. 

You separate quickly, like two magnets repelling each other. It saddens you, but when a colleague steps into Harry’s classroom a moment later, you’re met with relief as you grab the book off the desk. 

“Hi, Trent. Ya ready t’ see who falls asleep first in t’day’s meetin’?” he quips, stuffing his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly leaning against a desk. 

“My money’s on John, for sure,” Trent jokes, pressing his red glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Oh hi, Y/N,” he says, greeting you. You wave with a small ‘hi’ as you stand at the edge of the classroom near the windows uneasily. 

“I dunno, my money feels pretty good on her,” Harry teases, pointing a finger at you before winking. 

“Whatever. I better go take my nap now that you reminded me,” you return, sauntering out of the room and into the hall. 

Out of his presence, the butterflies take flight inside of you. A warmth fills your body all over when you reach the safety of your classroom. Closing the door, you fall against it with happiness jumping from the smile on your lips. Squealing with your hands held to your chest, you soon sigh at the thought of his lips. His lips soon being on yours again, and again, and again. 

Exhaling, you step down from the chair and stare at your hard work. Nodding in approval, you straighten the skirt of your patterned mustard dress. The happy face of Anne Frank looks back at you from the enlarged poster of her autobiography. Dragging your feet over to your desk, you plop onto your brown spinny chair, ignoring your heels forgotten on the floor. You bask in the new ambiance of your classroom, feeling the pleasure from the new posters donning your walls. 

The Diary of Anne Frank. 

Ross from F.R.I.E.N.D.S saying ‘you’re means y-o-u  a-r-e.’ 

The quote, ‘Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not’ - Tyrion Lannister.

A funny grammar poster that makes you feel like an even bigger English nerd. 

Frowning, the last poster in the corner sits there begging to be shown off, but you need help with it. After the events of earlier, you’re nervous to approach Harry. A sweet kind of nervousness, but nonetheless it’s there. Huffing, you grab the edge of the desk to pull you closer. Pressing play, the Queen song crawls from your laptop’s speakers, slowly filling the room. Clicking through your open windows, you finally find the unit plan you’ve been working on. 

Voices carry down the hallway outside your door, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. Squinting, as if it will help your hearing, you then tilt your head to look out your half-opened door. Jackson from the nearby history wing walks by, laughing at something somebody said. 

“Dis betta not be a bloody heavy desk, Jack,” somebody responds, amusement laced in their voice. 

“Hey, I know that voice,” you softly whisper to yourself, your lips curling at its sound. 

“You’re the one who agreed to help me! You can’t get out of helping me bring it in now, Harry!”

You hear the melodic sound of his laugh, perhaps one of your favorite sounds. The butterflies return when you let yourself think about getting to hear it as much as you’d like in these walls. 5 days a week for 9 months out of the year- well, something like that. 

A couple seconds later, Harry zooms past your door saying, “Get t’ work!” in a mocking deep voice, winking. 

“You!” you shout back, giggling to yourself with hot cheeks. You attempt to return your attention to the document open on your screen. It’s difficult, you find, because the thing consuming your mind is how nice Harry’s bum looked in those jeans. 

*

Chatter pecks at your ears as you swivel in your chair, watching your new colleagues converse around the table. Your new boss laughs with somebody standing at the room’s front by the projector screen. Reaching forward, you pluck another carrot from your plate to nibble on nervously. Once again, you pull out your phone to busy yourself, only making you feel guiltier for not mingling. You’ve already said at least a ‘hi’ to everyone in this room already, and you have the rest of your career to get to know them, you tell yourself. Bouncing your leg, your eyes drift to the clock on the wall. Impatience spreads like a hot wave throughout your limbs, bringing your eyes yet again to the back door to the conference room. When is he going to get here, you guess fervently, counting down the minutes until the meeting starts. 

A thud! surprises you when a white paper bag lands on the table in front of you. 

“Hmm, I didn’t know ya were a jumpa,” a voice snickers, its owner soon coming into view in front of you. Harry. “Why ya lookin’ like a lost puppy, bird?” he coos, pushing out his bottom lip as he pulls out the chair to your right.

“I’m not,” you retort, continuing to scroll through Instagram, stopping when you see a picture of a Goldendoodle puppy. 

“Yes, ya do. What, were ya wonderin’ what’d ya do if I didn’t show? Can’t have ya missin’ yer security blanket now,” he teases, poking you in the ribs with a glint in his eye. 

“Stop,” you giggle, placing your phone face down on the table. Sitting up and eyeing the food, you pinch his thigh for good measure. 

“Hey, watch those fingas, missy. They keep gettin’ ya into trouble lately,” he warns, tsking as his head goes from side to side. Opening the bag, he pulls out a familiar wrapped burger to hand to you. 

“Thank you, I’ll pay you back.”

“Shhhh, ya can pay next time. Sound good?” Harry hums, flitting his eyes to you with an eyebrow raise.

You give him his answer with a nod before taking a bite of the cheeseburger. Your boss starts to tell everybody to find a seat so they can begin the meeting. Out of the corner of your eye, Harry sets a packet of fries in front of you. Shooting him a smile, he returns it as he feeds one between his happy lips. Chairs squeak and whine as they’re moved and sat in around the long table. Somebody nudges your foot, and to no surprise, you find it’s Harry. He holds out a covered paper cup, a red straw poking from the top. A ‘thank you’ is held in your smile and he just nods, slipping off his sunglasses to set down. Your attention is stolen by his fingers raking through his curls to put them back in place. 

A thought pops into your head unwarranted, and consumes your attention as the principal speaks. I wonder if this means now I get to run my fingers through those curls, you ponder as you grab a fry. At the most inconvenient time possible, your mind starts to dig around. Doubts soon fill your thoughts, along with questions about what this will be with him. You try to push them away and lock them in a box, but they’ve done their job. Any smile left on your lips is gone now, and you continue to eat your burger quietly. 

“Ya eat jus’ like a bird with t’ose li’l bites,” Harry whispers, scooting closer to the table to retrieve the packets of ketchup from the bag. 

Turning to look at him, he holds a glowing smile in his eyes for you.  His shoe knocks into yours and he leaves it sitting on top of yours. Take that, stupid brain, you announce to your thoughts as you affectionately bump your knee against Harry’s. 

Reverting your thoughts to the towering figure speaking at the front of the room, a smile buds on your lips at the feeling of Harry rubbing his knee against yours. 

*

Rubbing your hands across your eyes, you feel the breath leave you in a whoosh. Tapping the board with your electronic marker that’s a pen, highlighter, and an eraser in one, you drag it in zig zags. The scribbles on the board disappear in a flash. Suddenly, it falls from your hands when you feel a pair of arms surround your waist. 

“Hiya, bird,” a voice says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Their warm breath tickles the nape of your neck, and so does the collar of their shirt. Spinning around, you find Harry standing there, a pout forming on his face. The adorable Starry Night tie you bought for him hangs loosely over his cornflower blue button-down. “What, why won’t ya lemme hug you?”

“Harry, anybody could walk in,” you insist, prying his arms from your waist. Bending down, you pick up the pen and place it back in its holder with a click. 

“All tha students are gone by now, babe. ‘s half past 3, and any dat are around are at practice. Tha last place they’d wanna be ‘s back t’ a classroom afta their first day o’ school,” he murmurs, wedging his way back into your good graces as he pulls you back into his arms. “I wanted t’ see how me birdy’s first day went. Sooooo, wha’s tha verdict?”

“It was good. A little overwhelming, though,” you hum in return, letting your head fall backward to fit against his cheek. 

“It ‘s fer e’rybody, love, so don’t worry. It’ll get betta, jus’ hang in there. Tha first month ‘s nothin’, that’s tha honeymoon period befo’ e’rythin’ goes wild.” His lips brush against your cheek with every word, the feeling of his ticklish stubble something you’re not yet used to. 

“Harry!” you scoff, turning your head to find his hairy cheeks creased with a devilish smile behind you. 

“‘m kiddin’, well not really, but hey, ya got me t’ help ya through it all. Don’t fret, love,” he tries to assure you, brushing the back of his fingers along your side. “What was yer favourite part o’ yer day, hmm?”

“Seeing some familiar students from when I used to sub. It was nice to catch up with them and hear stories,” you reveal, looking down as you cover his hands settled on your tummy with your own. 

“Mmm, that’s good. Familiar faces are always nice,” Harry mumbles, the point of his nose dragging along the expanse of your cheek. “Did I tell ya yet ya look really pretty in yer new dress?”

“Yes, you did. About three times, but thank you again.”

“Welcome, bird. I hope no teenage boys are crushin’ on ya now,” he jests, planting a loud kiss on your temple. The remnants of his minty piece of gum cover your face in a silent cloud as he laughs at his own joke. 

“Yuck! Oh and like there aren’t dozens of girls fawning over you in your classes?” you chuckle, bringing a whine to his lips when you squirm in his arms. “Put that lip away.”

“Or what? Hmm, what’re ya gonna do ‘bout it? Ya can kiss it away like all tha girls in me classes wanna do, if ya want,” Harry smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you once you turn around. Lifting a hand from his arm, it lifts to brush back the brown ringlets falling onto his forehead. 

“You’re gross sometimes. It makes me wonder how I can kiss that potty mouth.”

“Well ya do, and ya sure seem t’ like it,” he winks, dramatically licking his lips with a loud slurp. 

“Stop!” you exclaim, collapsing into laughter, your head returning to his chest. His hands clasp over your back, his thumb brushing your skin through the jade dress you wear. You’re grateful for your face hidden away in his chest for when you feel his lips pepper kisses from your temple to your neck. He leaves your skin tingling from his magical touch, and his growing curls leave a trail down your neck. 

“I think dis year’s gonna be a good one,” he coos against your ear, letting his smooth nose brush against its lobe. “I got tha reason right here.” 

“Can we do this though?” The words jump from your lips without a chance to catch them and shove them back in their safety. 

“Do what, love? Kiss? ‘Course, ya jus’ take yer lips and my lips, and put ‘em togetha’ like dis,” he wisecracks, lifting your head to show you the humor painting his face. Puckering his flushed lips, he closes the space between you to press a peck to your waiting lips. Pulling away, he quirks an eyebrow at you in silent questioning. 

“That’s not what I meant, Harry,” you continue, your words falling short of the thoughts buzzing around in your skull. 

“Then what’d ya mean?” 

“Can we, I don’t know . . ,” you begin, but you lose your footing. Leaving his arms regrettably, you almost lose your footing quite literally when he tries to hold on. A sound leaves his lips at your departure, but you try to ignore it. That’s easier said than done, you realize as you fight with yourself, wondering if you should say that word or not. “Date . . as colleagues?” 

They they are, free to the wind. It feels like coming home and your heavy book bag leaving your shoulders, although this time it’s far less trivial. The similarity doesn’t ease your anxious mind as you stop in front of your desk, fingering at the note that greeted you this morning. A pink Post-It note smattered with his sometimes unreadable handwriting, resting on top of a box of novels he gifted to you for your classroom. 

To my favorite teacher - I know you’ve been dreading this day for months, and looking forward to it, too. You’re going to do great. They’re going to love you. You’re not going to mess anything up. You got this, bird. Remember that. Take it easy on yourself. Remember, you have to take care of yourself, so then you can take care of them. You’ll learn from each other too. Just keep remembering pizza at the beach with me tonight to celebrate your first day. 

Harry xoxooxoxoxo 

“‘Course we can, as long as it doesn’t bleed into our work life. What d’ya mean?” Harry says, trying to inject lightheartedness into his words. You both can hear the failed effect they have, and they only make his words sound sadder. 

“I don’t know, I don’t want to like, get in trouble, or something. I just started this job.”

“Oh,” is all he mumbles. Mumbled or not, you hear the finality in his one word. As well as all that it says with that single syllable. 

Looking over your shoulder at him, you find the confirmation you needed knitting together his features. “Harry,” you say, turning the rest of your body to face him. He takes a step back, and now you know you’ve done it. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Then how’d ya mean it?” he retorts, coolness playing in his voice. He knows he’s done it, too. “Hmmm, bird? Ya only care ‘bout dat part o’ it - if we get caught and what people would think? Only wanna keep me a secret?” His words bite as he spits them into the air. They hit your face with a sting, but nothing compares to how he threw your nickname into the mud. The nickname you love, that happened all because of the first meal you shared together. 

“Harry, don’t. You know that’s not what I meant- Y-you’re being ridiculous,” you press, stepping forward. It’s like one step forward and two steps back, because he continues to walk away from you. Quickly, your hands grow shaky as the feeling consumes the rest of your body. 

“No, I know what ya meant. Or ‘s there mo’ ya want t’ say? Want t’ say dat ‘Oh, ‘s too risky, so maybe we shouldn’t do dis anymo’, even tho’ it makes us happy,’” Harry persists, his right hand lifting in question, before it falls with a slap to his thigh. 

“We never even said what this was,” you try to say, but before you get any further, you know you’re just making it worse. You know that he’ll read into your words incorrectly and assume the worst, despite your true meaning. At the realization, your heart pounds harder in your chest. The look on his face like you just slapped him tells you all you need to know. “Harry, wait.”

“No, yer right. We neva said what dis was, but apparently ‘s nuthin’ worth labelin’ or takin’ risks fer,” he grumbles. His head falls with a spiteful smile, but when it lifts again something shatters in your chest. With wet eyes, he continues in a croaky voice, “Then why’d ya take tha job knowin’ I was mad ‘bout ya?” 

Your lips wobble with his name dangling from them. When you try to walk over to him, you’re only two steps in when he holds a hand up. “No, don’t. ‘m glad ya told me early on. ‘m happy I didn’t already start fallin’ fer ya or anythin’. That’d be real shitty, wouldn’t it?” he wheezes, a strange smile tugging at his lips dealing failed sarcasm. Sniffling, a tear falls down his tanned skin and he brushes it away. With a shake of his head, he turns to walk out of the door. You know that you shouldn’t, but you let him, because you know you have to. 

Collapsing at your desk, your head falls into your hands. Tears splash into your palms as your chest shakes, wondering just how you turned the best first day into the worst first day. 

*

You know that a note won’t be there, but you continue to wish as your heels clack down the halls of lockers. You know that you’ll see his face no matter how hard you try to avoid him, and that it’ll hurt more than you thought it would. Although you prepared yourself, unlocking the door to your classroom and finding no notes from him hurts more than you suspected. The hurt only stings worse when you pass each other in the halls with your students trailing behind, eyes falling away instantly. The spark in the air is lost when he huffs, passing you on the way to the vending machine in the lounge, leaving as soon as he came. Although the hurt grew as the attacks came and went, nothing could prepare you for the absence of his notes that week. That was an eventuality you had dreaded thinking of since the day you found the first one, back in his classroom. 

You tried at the very least, albeit an understatement. Notes dropped into his mailbox went unanswered, as well as texts and phone calls. Even the bag of Bit O Honeys failed at their messages of apology. A few times you thought about trudging into his classroom after the bell rang, and hashing it out. Each time you mustered just enough courage to do so, a staff meeting got in the way. Or, within 5 minutes of the bell, his door was locked and he was gone. Speaking of staff meetings, you suffered even worse at those. No longer was he your security blanket at your side, because he no longer saved you a seat. Slowly, the young and pretty visual arts teacher grew to get on your nerves as you watched her be a little too nice to him. He didn’t entertain her taunts and turn to you with a smirk to rub it in your face. No, he was a good guy, and you had to go and ruin it, or what was becoming of it. 

He ignored you - at staff meetings, in the copy room, in the staff lounge, in the halls, when both of your classes were in the library - basically everywhere and anywhere. It was an understatement to say you suffered because of it. You had to buddy up with Jen, the poetry teacher. She took the brunt of your questions, whether technology-related or English related. You became fast friends, but unlike the easiness with Harry, you quickly felt you were a nuisance. That was something he never made you feel like, well, until now that is. 

You made the mistake of getting your hopes up when you found a bag of Bit O Honeys in your mailbox one morning. That is until the white note on it told you in his writing to stop plugging his box with them. Instead, you tossed them on the counter in the staff lounge to share, never wanting to see those yellow and red wrappers again. Quickly, what you thought had become your dream job morphed into a nightmare. His face filled your thoughts day after day, and it especially distracted you when your mind chose the tear-stricken memory. It bled into your lectures and although it stung less when you saw him, without fail every day, it was messing with your mind. It didn’t help when you were beginning a unit on Romeo and Juliet and a student joked you could play Juliet and Mr. Styles could play Romeo, quite literally. 

*

You had been staying after school every day to finish lesson plans, grade tests, reflect on teaching, and plan for the next day. The October chill that arrived this week only made you want to stay in your cozy classroom with the Autumn decorations you hung up. Soon, it would be Halloween and costumes would fill the halls. The thought pours memories into your mind, but a particular one sours the enjoyment for you. The memory of planning a matching costume with Harry. Jay and Daisy from The Great Gatbsy, like the English teacher nerds you are. Were. 

Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you reach for your water bottle. A groan finds its way past your lips when you pick it up, only to find it's empty. Standing with it in your hands, you cross the room to your door. After a few steps into the hallway, your movements freeze at the sight of his open door. Biting back any hesitations, your hand shakes when it presses against the wood. 

Something thrilling washes over you when you find his head bent over his desk. His left hand covered with varying rings props his head up as he marks the page with his favorite red pen. A Micron pen, but only you would know that. Pausing, he fiddles with the tan braces strapping his shoulders clad in a handsome white and gray checkered button-down. Words stick together inside of your mouth, and when you hear the click of your shoe, regret surges inside of you. 

“I made a mistake,” you say, testing the waters, although you know they’re stormy. Clearing your throat, you hope the subsequent ones will come out louder and stronger, before he can stop you. Your galloping heart jumps when he lifts his head to look at you, a question painting his face. “I fucked up, and I could never say how sorry I am. I said the wrong things, and I didn’t mean them that way- that’s not the point . . . I miss you, Harry. You’re all I think about, even when I’m thinking of other things, or when I’m teaching. That’s how I know it’s bad, because even though it’s only been a month, it still hurts like it was yesterday,” your voice screeches to a halt. You take one step at a time as he watches you. 

A curl tickles his bearded cheek, making you want to tuck it back into place, but you can’t. A crumb from a chip sits on his chin, making you want to brush it away, but you know you can’t. And neither can you whisk away the worry lines forming around his eyes. 

“I need you, not just to help me figure out how to use a projector or what a conjunction is again. But I need to tell you about the good parts of my day, and even the bad parts. Because even though we haven’t talked for like a month, my mind still goes to you when something good happens, or even bad. Even my students tease that we should be together, so that says something,” you try your hand at joking, but he turns his attention back to his desk. “Harry, please. I’m sorry,” you plead with him, tears catching the last of your words. 

“Sorry doesn’t jus’ make it all go away, bird,” he returns cooly. His head lifts ever so slightly, only to fall. As if he changed his mind a few seconds into a decision.

“I know, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll buy you Bit-O-Honeys for the rest of your life, grade your papers, check your mailbox, or buy the next meals for a month. Anything.” The apologies run off of your lips, but he doesn’t say anything, nor do his actions. An exhale whooshes over your pursed lips as your nails dig into your clenched palms. Defeat covers your body as you turn to leave. 

“None o’ dat takes away what ya said,” he announces painfully, the new fabric of his chair squeaking with his movements. 

“I know,” you say automatically, a battle waging its way inside of you of whether to look at him. As if his words laced with hurt didn’t already leave you breathless. “So tell me what I have to do.”

“I can’t do dat, bird. Ya should know,” he sighs, clucking his tongue in disbelief. 

Your eyes fall shut and your jaw clenches in anger, but the sweet smell of oranges brings you back to the moment. “I’m sorry that I made it seem like it wasn’t worth being with you, because it was, and I realized that even more after . . what happened. I’m sorry that it didn’t seem like I was dedicated enough, but I want to be a- I want to show you that I can be, and I want to be that to you. I’m sorry that I care too much about what other people think, because I only care what you think. It’s ripped me apart lately knowing that you hate me, and how you can’t even be around me, and . . ,” your string of words breaks off, stolen away by your onset of tears. They rumble through your chest with tremors, and the embarrassment brings your hands to your face streaked with them. 

The howling of the wind hugs the windows, masking any other sounds. If there were, you can’t hear them, but you do feel something. His fingers wrapping around yours, pulling your hands away from your face. 

“Ya gonna stop now befo’ ya make me cry too?” he hums, one corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly. With raised eyebrows, they pose the question to you. Nodding fast with hiccups stealing your words, he kneads your hands between his own. “Are ya gonna shuddup or am I gonna hafta make you?” Harry softly laughs. 

“You’re going to have to make me,” you return, stumbling over your sobbed words. 

“Good, was hopin’ ya’d say dat.”

Smirking playfully, he steps forward to cup your face in his hands. The callused tips of his fingers make quick work of the tears staining your face, as well as his lips. “Don’t cry, and don’t ever say dat I hate you,” he coos in between pecks to your wet skin singing with his kisses. “Don’t want me pretty birdy t’ cry no mo’.”

“Your bird doesn’t want to cry and be sad, and miss you anymore,” you whimper, trying to hold it all in, but it comes pouring out. 

“Baby bird,” he pouts sadly, his rose lips round and extended. His brow presses into a sad line as the same emotion carries his words. “Lemme make it all betta.”

Nodding, you hiccup again as you cover his hands with yours. His subsequent smile warms your insides cold and aching from the long days without him. His lips bring a respite when they touch yours, ending the harsh drought. Kissing him back, you revel in the feeling of his unkempt scratchy beard against your face. Just one more thing you missed. Severing the kiss, you mumble an ‘I’m sorry’ against his chapped lips. 

“Shhh, ‘s okay, love. I know ya are,” he tells you before bringing his lips back against yours. They move together slowly, welcoming the return of the other. 

Your mouth falls to envelope his bottom lip in between yours, his facial hair feathery against your mouth. Hungrily, you kiss him and savor his familiar taste and smell. Fingers drifting to his hair, they return home to his buttery curls. His lips pull away only to plant another kiss against your mouth. Too soon, he breaks the kiss with a breathy laugh against your lips. 

“My goodness, lemme breathe, love.”

“Sorry . . I missed you.”

“Ya sure did, bird. Think I missed ya a li’l more, though,” Harry chuckles as your hands fall from his locks. His thumb steals the last hint of a tear from under your eye. The amusement creasing his features disappears swiftly. “‘m sorry too, y’know. I overreacted, and I shouldn’t have put meself over yer job. It wasn’t fair o’ me t’ do dat. D’ya think I can have those Bit-O-Honeys back, or were ya serious ‘bout buyin’ me a lifetime supply?”

Groaning, you playfully shove at his chest, only to have him wrap you up in his arms. “I guess I was serious.”

“Hmm, ya don’t sound too serious ‘bout it, bird. But that’s okay, I got all tha honey I need right here,” he replies, planting a kiss atop your head nuzzled into his neck, swaying you back and forth. Nodding, you finally let yourself relax for the first time in weeks at the greeting of his sweet smell. One that feels like home to you. “Wait, yer students said we should be togetha? That’s funny, cuz so did mine.” 

[merryfortune]

Listen to Iron Maiden, Maybe

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Ship: Takeru/Yusaku

Word Count: 1.5k

Synopsis: Yusaku comes around to Takeru’s place for the first time.

  Takeru was nervous because he had never had a guest around, at least not at his own place. Yusaku was nervous because he made it a strict point to never be a guest because he disliked feeling indebted. Together, they were both nervous and that made things very awkward in the doorway.

  “So…” Yusaku said.

  “So....” Takeru agreed in the similar intonation and then snapped out of it for a brief second of clarity and inspiration; he swung his arm back. “So,” he said, “this is my humble abode.”

  Yusaku looked at him sceptically, but shook his head. He came inside and took off his shoes.

  “Thank you for having me.” he said.

  “Thanks for comin’ ‘round.” Takeru replied.

  Yusaku looked around as he ventured further into Takeru’s apartment. Humble… was putting it nicely but it was nicer than his. That made him feel kind of bad as he looked at the creamy colour walls, they were warm coloured and didn’t have a crack in them. The paint wasn’t even peeling but to contrast, the floors were kind of aged, thinning and even shedding, possibly.

  “Do you wanna see my room?” Takeru asked, piped up as he followed along behind Yusaku as he shuffled through into Takeru’s living room.

  Yusaku glanced behind him and gave a funny look, it was almost a glare but it was also playful in a very grim, even stoic way that only Yusaku could be.

  “What?” Takeru shrugged, faux offended. “I haven’t had anyone over since I was, like, eight. Well no one who wasn’t Kiku… but she was basically born as part of the furniture…”

  “That’s okay. You can show me your room. Even though… these are all your rooms.” Yusaku replied amused.

  Takeru laughed. “Yeah, true.” He scratched the back of his head.

  Still, Yusaku wasn’t sure what to expect. Takeru had been in town for all of two months now. So, at the baseline, he was going to expect that everything would have been unpacked by now. Maybe some posters on the walls. He didn’t really know. Somehow, Takeru felt evasive and Yusaku respected that. Over all, what could be expected was probably more of the rest of the house. Thinning carpets, a narrow little bed, the basic amenities.

  “Here we go.” Takeru said as he pushed open yet another door in his tiny little apartment that felt somewhat like a rabbit warren, actually.

  Yusaku’s eyes bugged as he had a look around. He had expected maybe one or two posters, for things like movies he had never seen and didn’t care about. Maybe a pin up of some woman in a bikini because Takeru did have those kinds of vibes. That might have been in it but no, he had quite the collection.

  “Oba-chan gave me a little bit of extra pocket money to buy something nice for myself when I moved out. I think she meant, like, a new fridge or a lounge but instead, I blew it on stuff for my room.” Takeru explained.

  Yusaku came in and he sat at the little, low table in the centre of the room. Takeru joined him.

  “So, what do you want to do first?” Takeru asked. “Study for the test we have next week or revise our decks?”

  “Which do you feel least prepared for?” Yusaku asked, pointed, in turn.

  Takeru sighed. “The test…” he confessed, deflating over the table.

  “Then let’s do a bit of study. Half an hour, we’ll set a timer or something.” Yusaku said.

  “Actually, I’ve got a CD player, how about when we finish a CD?” Takeru suggested.

  “Just so long as its quiet…” Yusaku replied. “I don’t really listen to music, I find it distracting.”

  Takeru got to his feet, “I’m the complete opposite,” he said and he turned his back on Yusaku so he could sort through his CD collection that he had all neatly lined up in a medium sized wooden book case, “I find it a lot easier to concentrate when there’s background noise.”

  “Fair enough.” Yusaku replied.

  He squinted over to the bookcase and the titles on the spines of the CDs were too small for him to read, even from about a metre over. A lot of them were darkly coloured with crystalline vertices. It was kind of old school, actually. Yusaku might have been completely out of touch with modern pop culture but even he knew that CDs had been passe for over a decade now.

  “This one shouldn’t be too bad…” Takeru said as he popped up to his full height again after scrounging around in a squat.

  The CD player was perched on the top of the bookcase, beside yet more CDs and even a jacket and another knickknack of Takeru’s. The CD player made scratchy, clicky noises as Takeru fidgeted around with it; in the meantime, Yusaku got his own stuff out and he pulled out his stationary to set it all up.

  “There we go. Give it a minute, it’s a little old.” Takeru said.

  “Whatever.” Yusaku said. “Just sit down again.”

  Takeru rolled his eyes and bit his tongue, he was very much tempted to sass Yusaku but he was also very tempted to not fail said upcoming test so Yusaku was very much right. He sat back down again and he heard the static of his CD player. Yusaku mustn’t have, however, because his eyes were glued on the study sheet that he had brought over.

  “So, is there anything in particular you’re struggling with? I’ve got some practice questions I got off the previous year’s records-”

  “Did you hack into the school to find those?” Takeru exclaimed, adorably excited as he interrupted Yusaku.

  “...No,” Yusaku replied, “if you paid attention, you would know that we already have access to it through our school emails.”

  “Oh.” Takeru laughed. “But yeah, I need help with just about everything.”

  “We’ll take it slow then-”

  Yusaku could have jumped out of his skin with this second interruption. His eyes went huge as the room, once quiet with only a little bit of static, exploded with the sound of drums and electric guitars.

  “Oops?” Takeru hopelessly offered beneath the rolling voice of the singer, it was growly but not illegible noise. To him at least, Yusaku was a little unconvinced as he heard the musical equivalent of scrawled writing.

  “Please turn it off.” Yusaku managed to stutter out.

  Takeru scrambled to his feet. The CD player still blared until, in his panic, he managed to turn the volume completely off. Takeru sighed and Yusaku was singed by the experienced to say the least. But he came off his hackles once he had taken a few deep breaths.

  Yusaku looked around Takeru’s room again. The posters were mostly black with silver writing; depicting people in truly atrocious outfits with huge hair, holding up their hands with middle fingers and giving other punk rock salutes, too.

  “So,” Yusaku said, inviting Takeru to sit back down with him, he had turned skittish and guilty all of a sudden, “you like metal music, huh?”

  Takeru nodded. “I like it a lot more than flowery pop music.” he said.

  “I don’t like pop music either.” Yusaku said.

  “To tell the truth, a lot of my collection got handed down to me around my… thirteenth birthday?” he said. “My grandparents didn’t want me listening to it any younger and that was about when my Dad started listening to it. Most of the stuff from, uh, well, last century is his. The newer stuff is obviously mine.”

  “Oh…” Yusaku mumbled.

  “It makes me feel close to my Dad even though I don’t remember him much… It’s, uh, what’s the word I’m thinking of?”

  “Humanizing?” Yusaku guessed.

  Takeru nodded. “Yeah, it’s nice to know he felt the same way once… Angry and pent up and stuff. Like in the music. It resonates.”

  “I see. That’s nice.” Yusaku told him. He thought, a touch bitterly, how he didn’t even have the faintest connection to his own parents. “Do you want to try again? I mightn’t like this stuff but if it’s interesting to you, I think I can enjoy it.”

  Takeru looked up from beneath his glasses and mop of white-red hair. He was fidgety and commiserating, a little afraid of being vulnerable like that with Yusaku.

  He was surprised to hear Yusaku say that. He was even more surprised to see that Yusaku had flashed him a smile. His green eyes looked so pretty with his lips upturned. Takeru felt his heart skip a beat and he shook out a nervous smile.

  “Thanks.” he said, wholeheartedly.

  For a third time, he got to his feet and he turned the volume up on his rickety old CD player. He didn’t know how to tell Yusaku but this was one of his favourite albums but maybe he already knew. According to his grandfather, it was also one of his dad’s favourites as well. He was steady as he pinched the knob, only turning it slightly so that the song, fading into an outro, could only just be heard. He glanced at Yusaku and he didn’t seem like he was disliking at least the faint parts. Takeru sat back down again and Yusaku pushed a study note closer to him.

  “I hope this helps.” Yusaku said.

  “Yeah, no worries, thanks.” Takeru replied, still smiling.

[particularemu]

Insanity | A Hwang Hyunjin Series | Part 1

Part: [Prologue] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Epilogue]

Word Count: 5046

Type: Angst

Warnings: violence, drugs, descriptions of anxiety, panic disorders, fucked up hospitals, a sassy Jinnie boi, and corruption.

Author’s Note: Without further ado, I present part 1 of Insanity. Please understand that I’m no doctor, and I have 0 medical knowledge, so if I make a mistake, shoot me a message and school me so I can fix it :3 

Hyunjin’s eyes widened as he stepped off the bus, hand tugging his suitcase behind him. There it was — Rosewood Psychiatric Institution — the medical facility he was going to stay and work in for the next couple of years. Hyunjin would stay longer, but he had strict plans to start his own institution after getting some work experience. Judging by the beautiful landscape — it looked like he picked the right place. 

The land rolled smoothly under the thick, luscious grass, the picture-perfect landscape looking as if it was sculpted by the gods. There were several colorful plants and shrubs along the cobblestone path, leading Hyunjin directly to the gates. After being waved through by a couple of nice-looking guards, Hyunjin made his way over to the living quarters for the staff. Thank goodness the way was pointed by various golden signs, otherwise, he’d surely get lost in the big institution made up of several buildings. 

Hyunjin’s lips parted in surprise as several sprinklers turned on, watering the beautiful lawn for the first time that morning. Wow… they obviously had a passionate landscaper who thrives on taking care of all these plants. It must take the man (or woman) all day to water the plants, cut the grass, and pull each and every weed out of the landscape. 

The institution was incredible. Most mental health facilities he visited during his university years weren’t this large — or as aesthetically pleasing. The boy couldn’t help but gawk at the beautiful architecture. 

Hyunjin cursed as his watch beeped, signaling the start of his shift in the next hour. He opened the door to the living quarters, gasping at the luxurious decor coating the walls. This doctor must make loads of money off this place to be able to afford decor this nice. It was nice to know that Dr. Douglas took care of the staff. Hyunjin quickly made his way over to room 108, grateful that he wouldn’t have to drag his suitcase up 3 flights of stairs. Hyunjin tucked his suitcase under the bed, brows creasing when he saw the pure white uniform laying across his bed. 

Fuck, he hated white. Of course, he expected he’d have to wear the typical white coat, but usually, he was allowed to wear blue scrubs. Why the hell were they forcing the staff to wear some 1950s style uniform? Oh well. Hyunjin changed into the uniform. 

Dr. Douglas must be obsessed with the look of white — Hyunjin assumed because all the rooms were coated with white paint, decorated with white knick-knacks, and beds were made with white sheets and comforters. Hyunjin would have to find a poster or something to go on the wall, or he might have to check himself into the institution. 

Hyunjin rushed out the door, checking to make sure it locked before heading over to the main building. From what he could tell on his map, he would be working in the largest building. Hyunjin headed inside, eyes scanning the room for some sign of where he should go. 

“Hello, how can I help you, sir?” A kind woman dressed in some 1950s looking nurse uniform caught Hyunjin’s attention. 

What is with these old-fashioned uniforms? Maybe they were trying to keep things timeless for those who’ve been in the institution a while? Or perhaps Dr. Douglass just enjoyed vintage things. Either way, Hyunjin thought the uniform choice was odd. Throw some dirt, grime, and blood on them and the uniforms would look like they’re straight from a horror movie.  

“Hi, I’m Dr. Hyunjin. It’s my first day. I’m supposed to start today.” Hyunjin couldn’t help but gawk at how clean everything looked. All hospitals should be clean but this — this institution looked as though it was scrubbed top to bottom with bleach. There was no scuff mark, footprint, or speck of dust in sight. 

“Ah, Dr. Hyunjin welcome.” A kind-looking man on the other side stepped out. “Come on over.” 

Hyunjin squeezed through the door and shook the man’s hand. “Nice to met you Dr?” 

“Dr. Henry.” The man smiled at Hyunjin. “We’ve been understaffed for so long. I’m happy they finally have someone to take over the day shift for Miss ______.” Dr. Henry handed Hyunjin a medical chart packed full of your medical history.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened as he scanned the papers. Twenty-five sedations? In just over two months? “Umm, excuse me for asking, but why has she been sedated 25 times in the past couple of months?” 

“She is a feisty young thing. If she doesn’t get her way she starts hitting and screaming.” Dr. Henry laughed. “So we typically have to sedate her before she hurts one of the doctors or herself.” 

Hmm… That still doesn’t sound right. Hyunjin brushed it off until he spotted an obvious problem in your chart. “Hey, why is she getting a stimulant?” Hyunjin frowned. 

“What do you mean?” Dr. Henry leaned over Hyunjin’s shoulder to look at your chart. 

Hyunjin pointed to a spot. “It says right here that she’s dealing with intense anxiety, panic attacks, manic, nightmares, and I’m not sure why it says etcetera there, we should be listing all her symptoms.” Hyunjin paused and pointed to another section on her chart. “Then over here, it says she’s taking Adderall — a stimulant.” 

“The doctor prescribed it for her ADHD.” Dr. Henry smiled. 

Hyunjin pursed his lips. The chart claimed that she had no memory of her life before the institution — and there were no notes stating she was diagnosed with ADHD. “We might want to consider taking her off of it. Stimulants can increase panic episodes. If she’s still having intense panic attacks, why are we still giving her Adderall?” Hyunjin pulled a pen out of his breast pocket. “We should remove that from her list.” 

“Don’t do anything yet.” Dr. Henry pat Hyunjin’s shoulder. “The doctor has to approve any prescription changes.” 

Hyunjin cocked his head in confusion. They were all doctors… Why did they need to have medication changes approved? All doctors had the ability to prescribe and change prescriptions. Whatever… Maybe it’s just a safety precaution?

“You guys have her on a steroid too.” Hyunjin pointed at your list of medications once more “Betamethasone? What’s she taking that for?” 

“You know what? I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask the doctor about that.” Dr. Henry smiled. “I only started working with her recently, so I’m not aware of her entire medical history.” 

Okay, is this guy really a doctor? Hyunjin sighed in frustration as he scanned your chart. How could this man be taking care of you, and not even care about your previous medical history? Hyunjin couldn’t help but feel grateful that he was taking over your care. Maybe he could give you a fighting chance.

“Ergotamine? Does she get migraines?”

“I don’t know.” Dr. Henry sighed, crossing his arms in annoyance. 

“The reason I’m asking is Ergotamine contains caffeine. Adding prescriptions full of steroids, stimulants, and caffeine is only going to make her anxiety worse. No wonder she’s having such a hard time.” Hyunjin couldn’t help but glare at the man. 

“Like I said. Take it up with the doctor.” Dr. Henry snapped. “Why isn’t she getting a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor?” Hyunjin was baffled. SSRIs are typically given to patients who suffer from panic attacks. The medication prevents serotonin from being absorbed by the nerve cells in the brain. Stabilizing those serotonin levels reduces anxiety and panic. “She should be taking Prozac or Lexapro,” Hyunjin mumbled as he flipped through your chart. 

Dr. Henry scoffed. “She doesn’t need an SSRI. The doctor doesn’t like prescribing those unless the patient has gone through a successful therapy session.” 

What the fuck equals a successful therapy session? 

Hyunjin flipped through your chart, spotting the therapist’s notes over the past few sessions. Sure enough, panic attacks, anxiety episodes, refusal to cooperate, violence — you had it all. Hyunjin decided that he should sit through one of your therapy sessions to see what might be triggering your panic episodes.

“Okay, then give her a serotonin-norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor?” Hyunijn sighed in frustration. “Those prevent the absorption of serotonin and norepinephrine. It’ll calm her down in stressful situations.” 

“I know what they do.” Dr. Henry slammed his hand on the counter.

“Okay, then why aren’t you giving her any?” Hyunjin raised his voice as well.

“There aren’t any that are approved by the drug administration jackass.” He scoffed. 

“Yes, there is dumbass.” Hyunjin sighed and slipped your medical chart in his bag. “Venlafaxine. If you don’t have any in this hospital you need to get some.” 

“We have it, but it’s an SSRI.” 

“No, it’s not.” Hyunjin raised his voice and pointed to one of the computers. “It’s an SNRI. Look it up.” He frowned, “Besides, there are so many other options out there for her. You could give her tricyclic antidepressants, monoamine oxidase inhibitors, or beta-blockers instead of letting her suffer.” Hyunjin spat.

“Take it up with the doctor.” The man yelled back in Hyunjin’s face. 

Hyunjin leaned forward, piercing eyes glaring at the other man as he crossed his arms. “Fine, I will.” 

“First, come meet your patient, then you could see if she’s worth the trouble.” Dr. Henry turned and walked down the hall. 

“What?” Hyunjin asked as he followed the man. Everyone is worth the trouble. Even if you were a psycho looking to attack everyone in that hospital, you were a human being. Besides, Hyunjin could imagine you weren’t being treated the best under Dr. Henry’s care — based on the way the asshole was treating him. 

“Here she is pretty boy.” Dr. Henry gestured in the room. 

Hyunjin’s heart broke at the sight. You were huddled in the corner, arms wrapped around yourself as if it was the only comfort you had in this mental institution. Your room was empty, save for a bed and a thin blanket that probably provided little to no warmth. Your arms were filled with scratches, from what he assumed to be your nails — but in this hospital, there was no telling. 

Hyunjin slowly stepped into the room, smiling at you as your big glassy eyes met his. “Hello there,” Hyunjin spoke in a low even voice, hoping to prevent scaring you further. “I’m Dr. Hyunjin, your new caretaker. I’m looking forward to helping you the best I can.”  

You quickly got up and stumbled towards the man, tears running down your cheeks as you frantically clawed at his chest. Hyunjin gasped and wrapped his arms around your waist to steady you, heart-shattering when you wrapped your arms around his neck and cried, “Please you have to help me. You have to get me out of here, please.” 

Dr. Henry grabbed your arm and practically threw you across the room. “No touching the doctors. Do you want another session in the lightning room?”

You grabbed the bedpost, body shaking as you cried, “No I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” 

“Hey!” Hyunjin yelled, pushing at Dr. Henry’s shoulders. “That wasn’t necessary, she’s just scared.” He darted to your side, resting his hand on your arm to try and soothe you. You flinched away from his touch, mumbling apologies here and there. “Shh, you did nothing wrong,” Hyunjin whispered. 

“What is the lightning room? Is that electroconvulsive therapy? Do you have the right permits to do that?” To say Hyunjin was concerned was an understatement. 

“Of course.” Dr. Henry scoffed. 

“Why are you using it as a punishment?” Hyunjin raised his brow. “Electroconvulsive therapy is quite beneficial if done right. Do you guys put the patients under with anesthesia?”

Dr. Henry crossed his arms over his chest, eyes filled with pure hatred as he looked at Hyunjin. “No, we mainly use it to get their act straight.” 

“So you’re inducing seizures on your patients to get them to stop rebelling?” Hyunjin scoffed. “Smart.” 

“Look smartass, I’m just doing my job. If you have a problem with it, take it up with the doctor.” Dr. Henry stormed off, leaving Hyunjin alone with you. 

Thank God he’s finally gone. 

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.” Hyunjin reached his hand out to you, pausing a safe distance away so he wouldn’t frighten you. “When you feel comfortable, I’m right here.” He held his hand out to you, palm facing up, giving you full control over the situation. 

You turned to look at the beautiful man, noticing the way his eyes lit up when you made eye contact. He sure was gorgeous. Most caretakers wouldn’t have stayed this long, but Hyunjin stayed in front of you, hand out for you to touch when you were ready. You slowly lifted your shaky hand and gently pressed your fingers into his palm, making Hyunjin smile brightly.

“That’s it.” His voice sounded like heaven to your ears. You felt safe in his presence, even more so when he slowly closed his fingers around yours. God, it’s been months since you’ve felt such a comforting touch. “Will you let me check your vitals?”

You cocked your head to the side, confusion evident in your features as Hyunjin chuckled nervously. “Oh sorry, you might not remember. I’m going to check your pulse, your temperature, your respiration rate, and your blood pressure just to make sure everything’s okay. After all, you did get thrown to the ground and since we don’t know what triggers your panic episodes I want to make sure you aren’t experiencing any symptoms of anxiety or panic which could be increased heart rate, temperature and —” Hyunjin paused a second. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I do that a lot. I’ll just check your temperature.” Hyunjin pulled a thermometer out of his bag and placed it in your mouth, hand resting on your forehead for a second to make sure you didn’t feel abnormally warm. 

You found the gentle touch comforting as his hand shifted to rest on the pulse point on your throat. His beautiful lips moved as he counted, eyes fixed on his watch. You couldn’t help but notice the beauty mark underneath his eye. That’s not something you see every day — especially in here. It felt like everyone looked the same — well… from the few people, you’ve seen during your various attempts to escape this godforsaken place. You flinched when Hyunjin pulled out his stethoscope, which didn’t go unnoticed by the ebony-haired beauty. 

“You look like you’re breathing fine.” Hyunjin smiled softly as he shoved the stethoscope back into his bag. “Why don’t we skip that for now.” Hyunjin pulled the thermometer out of your mouth and smiled at the results. “Good. It’s normal.” 

You sighed in relief and pulled your sore body up off the floor, plopping on the bed so you could rest. Hyunjin stood up and scanned your knees, noticing the bruises already starting to form. He couldn’t just sit there and let these damn people hurt you like this. “I have a couple of things I need to talk to your doctor about. Will you be okay here?” Hyunjin smiled when you nodded. “Awesome. I won’t be long.” 

Hyunjin slowly closed the door behind him before rushing down the hallway to Doctor Douglas’s office. He was only here an hour and he feels like he’s starting all sorts of trouble. The hospital was filled with incompetent doctors — or so he assumed judging by the information in your chart. And then there was Dr. Henry… 

Hyunjin nearly opened the door to the doctor’s office when a woman stepped in front of him. “Doctor Douglas is busy now sir. Please come back later.” 

Of fucking course. “I’m so sorry miss.” Hyunjin smiled. “He called me down here, so I thought I’d come right away. It sounded urgent.” 

“Oh, I must be mistaken. Go right ahead.” The woman moved out of the way and sat back down at her desk, obnoxiously typing a response to an email. 

Wait, that actually worked?

Hyunjin quickly slipped into the office before she could see the victorious grin on his face. He frowned when he turned around, spotting Dr. Douglas sitting in his chair, playing a random game on his phone. Yeah, okay he was real busy. 

“Welcome Hyunjin!” Dr. Douglas beamed. “I was hoping you’d make it here okay. I trust the drive up wasn’t too bad?”

“Thank you, sir. The drive was fine.” Hyunjin shook Dr. Douglas’s hand. “Pardon me for intruding, but I have a few questions about my patient.” 

“I expected a few.” Dr. Douglas laughed. “Why don’t you introduce yourself first?” 

Hyunjin ignored Dr. Douglas’s request and pulled out your chart. “After. This is urgent. You have my patient on Adderall, Betamethasone, and Ergotamine, all three are known to have anxiety and panic episodes as a side effect.” Hyunjin paused, wracking his brain for information. “There was this case study a few years ago —” 

“Hyunjin please.” The doctor gestured for him to stop. “Why don’t we get to know each other first?” He chuckled. “I’m Dr. Douglas. I’m sure you know that I run this hospital, considering I was the one who hired you.” 

“Yes,” Hyunjin shook his hand. “But sir, we —” 

“Hyunjin.” 

Hyunjin sighed dramatically, feeling like a two-year-old ready to throw a tantrum. He felt like his childish nature was justified, considering no one in this damn hospital seemed to care about your condition. 

“I’m Dr. Hwang Hyunjin. I was top of my class at Southfield University and I dedicate my time helping my patients.” Hyunjin’s brows creased as he shoved your chart forward. “The one I have now needs help and I need you to approve some things so I can help her.” Hyunjin’s eyes hardened as the Doctor laughed, acting as if none of this was a problem. 

“Prestigious school Mr. Hwang.” Dr. Douglass sighed and looked at your chart. “What do you need approved?” 

“I want to take her off all the excess medication and put her on Prozac. I believe the mixture of Adderall, Betamethasone, and Ergotamine is making things worse for her. She’s already dealing with so much in an unfamiliar place — so let’s put her on Prozac and see if it helps.” 

“And what will Prozac do that Venlafaxine won’t?” Dr. Douglas’s eyes bore into Hyunjin’s, making the boy nervous. 

“E-excuse me?” Hyunjin stuttered. 

“She’s taking Venlafaxine.” 

“Umm, no she isn’t.” Hyunjin panned through her chart and pointed to your list of medications. “She’s getting these six medications, which is way too much for someone without existing health problems.” 

“She’s in a mental facility.” Dr. Douglas chuckled. “They are all to help her.” 

“Yeah? What does this one do?” Hyunjin pointed to a drug on the list. “Peroproxine?”  Hyunjin frowned. “I’ve heard of Proproxen, but that’s an anti-inflammatory drug.” 

“Peroproxine is an anti-anxiety medication.” Dr. Douglas stated as if it was common knowledge. 

Okay, what? Hyunjin couldn’t stop the obvious annoyance taking over his features. He spends a LOT of his free time researching new and existing medications out there. If there was a drug by the name of Peroproxine, he probably would have known about it. “Why haven’t I heard of it?” 

Dr. Douglas laughed. “You’re new in the business son.” Hearing the word ‘son’ come out of that man’s mouth pissed Hyunjin off.  “I’m not your son. Please just approve this so I can help her.” 

“I can’t do that.” Dr. Douglas sighed. “She’s improved drastically since she started taking those medications. I won’t set her back again. It’s just not humane.” He chuckled. 

“Sir, she’s been here six months, and it appears her mental stability has gotten worse. And, Dr. Henry is being violent with her. He threw her to the ground —” 

“Hyunjin enough!” The doctor slammed his hand on the desk, startling the boy. “Give her the medications on her list, or you’re fired.” 

Hyunjin paled — it was clear he crossed a line. 

“I will not have you slandering one of the most trustworthy doctors in this institution. Get back to work.” Dr. Douglas turned in his chair, cutting off the conversation. Hyunjin’s heart dropped as he left the office. 

Sure, he could always quit and work somewhere else that wasn’t fucked up, but he couldn’t leave you. Something told him that you shouldn’t be there — that something else was the problem. He sulked down the hallways until he felt someone grab his arm and pull him into one of the Janitor’s closets. 

The beautiful man flipped the light switch, allowing the dingy old light swinging above their heads to flicker on. So there was a dirty room in the institution. 

Hyunjin scanned the man in front of him, noticing the name tag on his chest that read ‘Minho.’ He could tell Minho worked at the hospital — unless he was a crazy patient who murdered his caretaker and stole the uniform. 

“Look, you’re a very beautiful man, but I have to get back to work,” Hyunjin muttered and tried to push past Minho. 

“What? No, you dumbass.” Minho paused a moment and smirked, wiggling his eyebrows before saying, “But thank you.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes and tried to push past Minho once more, only to be shoved back against the brooms and mops hung on the wall. Minho blocked the door with his arm. “I’m trying to help you keep your job because someone is looking to get fired.” 

Hyunjin sighed. “I don’t want to get fired, I just want to help my patient.” 

“I know.” Minho’s mood shifted — a melancholy look replacing his once emotionless expression. “Just listen for a second.” 

Hyunjin nodded and leaned back against the wall. “Ok fine, you have five minutes.” 

“First of all, I’m older than you so you can fuck off with that attitude.” Minho snapped. “Second of all, you need to stop asking questions.” Minho paused, trying to figure out how to word his next sentence. “Just keep your head down and do your job.” 

“How do you know I’m not older?” Hyunjin snickered. 

“Dude really?” Minho sighed. “You look fifteen. Out of all that I said, that’s what you decided to comment on?” 

Hyunjin couldn’t help but chuckle at the older boy’s expression. “Look, I’d be happy to keep my head down if my patient wasn’t suffering.” 

“I know.” Minho paused. “But this hospital isn’t like the others. You have to keep your head down or you’ll be admitted.” 

“What?” Admitted to the hospital? That doesn’t make any sense…

A loud scream echoed through the hallway, frightening the two boys. “Fuck… That sounds like it’s coming from my patient’s room. Here take this, it’s her medication. Please tell her to take it.” Minho opened the door and rushed down the hall. 

Hyunjin stepped out of the closet and stared at the little plastic cup in his hands. From what he could tell, he had two options. One, he could give you the medicine, keep his job, and allow your mental health to deteriorate until you were clinically insane. Or two, he could simply dispose of the medication and see if you improve. His feet took him to your room, figuring it’d be best to give you the medicine for now and speak to Minho later. Perhaps the older boy could give him more information about you.

From what everyone has told him, you were a pain in the ass to deal with. Hyunjin just saw a girl who was confused and scared. He couldn’t imagine you being violent and deliberately trying to hurt someone. 

Hyunjin opened the door, smiling sadly when he saw you curled up underneath the thin blanket. “Hey, it’s time for your medicine.” 

“Don’t want it.” You mumbled into the blankets, turning your back to Hyunjin. 

“I don’t blame you...” Hyunjin trailed off.

You turned to look at him, eyes wide with surprise. Usually, the caretakers would hold you down and force the pills down your throat. They didn’t have any mercy at this hospital — they’d do whatever it takes to get you to take your pills.  

Hyunjin chuckled at your surprise and slid the pills into his bag. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” 

There was something about that smile of his that made you feel like you could trust him. Hyunjin wasn’t forcing you to take anything, he seemed genuinely concerned for your mental health, and he was treating you like a real human being. 

“Can I sit next to you?” His soft voice shook you out of your thoughts. 

“Yeah.” You sat up in bed, giving him space to sit beside you. 

Hyunjin stayed silent, trying to think of questions he could ask you. He needed to know more about your medication and how you feel after taking them, but he didn’t want to trigger any painful memories. “Do you feel anxious after you take the medication?”

You thought about it for a minute before nodding. “It comes out of nowhere. I’m usually fine until I have to take my medicine during the day.” 

Okay, so the medication is definitely giving you anxiety. Was it the mixture of Adderall, Betamethasone, and Ergotamine, or was it that new drug… Peroproxine?

“Are you feeling anxious right now?” Hyunjin asked in a low voice. 

You nodded before mumbling. “A little bit. I don’t know you very well.” 

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot to introduce myself.” Hyunjin chuckled. “Would you like me to tell you a bit about myself?”

You nod, noticing the way Hyunjin smiled at your answer. 

“Well, I’m Dr. Hwang Hyunjin. I graduated at the top of my class from Southfield University.” He paused. “My father committed suicide when I was young, so I decided that I was going to study psychology so I could help people struggling with depression. Then I discovered that the medical side of psych would give me the ability to prescribe and help those at a medical level.” Hyunjin chuckled nervously. “You probably don’t want to know about all that though.” 

“No, I don’t mind.” You smiled. “I hear about how crazy I am day-in and day-out, so it’s refreshing to hear about someone else.” 

Hyunjin frowned. “Do they not give you time to socialize?”

You tucked your hands underneath your thighs, “Well, I get to talk to my therapist. The caretakers don’t like us to socialize with other patients. They said that we could get crazy ideas or something.” You frowned. “I don’t really remember.” 

“That’s not normally how things work.” Hyunjin pursed his lips. 

“Yeah?” You cocked your head to the side. “How do they normally work?”

“Typically you live in a room with a roommate — someone with a similar mental illness...” Hyunjin trailed off. “But you’d also have meals with the other patients and usually there’s a rec room where you guys can play games and chat.” 

You bounced on the bed, eyes filling with excitement as you grabbed Hyunjin’s arm. “We have the gardens!” 

Hyunjin couldn’t help but smile at your excitement. “The gardens?” 

“The doctor likes pretty things, so he has a big garden in the back of the asylum filled with all sorts of flowers. He has some exotic ones in there that smell really good.” You smiled brightly. “I like to go see the pretty flowers, but we aren’t allowed without our caretakers. Dr. Henry would never go with me.” 

So Dr. Henry was your old caretaker... Why did that asshole lie about not knowing your information? He’ll have to look into that later. 

“I’ll take you to the gardens as often as you want. I love to look at flowers.” Hyunjin smiled. “Actually do you want to go now?”

You smiled sadly and shook your head. “I’m feeling tired. I want to sleep.” 

“That’s fair. You’ve had a big day so far.” Hyunjin smiled. “Can you answer one more question for me?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips when you saw Hyunjin’s boyish grin. 

“Thank you. You’re such a big help.” Hyunjin rested his hand on yours. “Do you remember how you got here?” 

You closed your eyes, thinking about it for a moment. This was the question you’ve been asked every single day over the past six months. You never had an answer. Your brain only showed you flashes of a van and your cries for help, but the whole memory was foggy and unclear. 

Hyunjin paled when he felt your hand shake underneath his. “Hey, hey it’s okay.” He rubbed soothing circles on your back, smiling when you opened your eyes. 

“I’m so sorry I don’t remember.” You panicked, tears running down your face. “Please don’t tell them I’m not cooperating. I’m trying my hardest.” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Hyunjin’s eyes widened when you crawled into his lap, head resting on his chest as you sobbed.  His heart completely shattered with every tear that ran down your face. 

He couldn’t imagine being in your position. Everyone at the hospital sucks, you weren’t allowed to talk to anyone, you were being given horrible medication, and to top it off, you had no one you could trust. Hyunjin felt honored that you trusted him enough to be this close to him on the first day.

“Your missing memories aren’t your fault.” Hyunjin ran his fingers through your hair, noticing the way you melted into his touch. “Some stressful experiences are so traumatic, the memories hide in the back of your brain like a shadow. So they can’t be consciously accessed. There are exercises and treatments we could do to retrieve those memories, but for now, I think it’s best that we get to know each other a bit more.” 

“I don’t feel safe here.” You sniffled and nuzzled into his chest. 

“You shouldn’t.” Hyunjin rubbed your arm, brows creasing as he tried to figure out his next move. 

The door slammed open— the loud noise startling the two of you as Minho ran into the room. 

“Hyunjin! There’s an emergency. I need your help.”

[haikyuuscreaming]

hello!! can you write something fluff with kenma, please? some friends to lovers if possible. loving your blog 💕💕

OH SHIT SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG SDFSDFJKD this is. 3.5k words roughly and im so sorry idk why my fics always come out longer than 1k words :(((

The first time you meet Kozume Kenma, he’s hiding behind the wall that is Kuroo Tetsurou and you’re both in your first year.

“Oh?” The Nekoma volleyball captain stares you down in the Chem class you share with him. “You’re [Surname]-san, right?”

“Yeah,” You say, never breaking eye contact with him but secretly eyeing the quiet boy behind him. He’s your classmate in a few other of your periods, but not this one. This class is an advanced Chemistry class, placing you conveniently with the second-years and a handful of equally smart first-years. “I need help with the homework and you’re my best bet. Could you help out?”

Kuroo narrows his eyes at you, which you don’t exactly appreciate but you don’t say anything. “You sure you don’t want me to just give answers?”

“I kinda need to understand this to pass the class, so no thanks.”

He hums in approval, like you’ve passed some test, and nods. “Sure thing. I wanted to teach Kenma this anyway.”

Oh, that’s his name… you think to yourself, and you noticed the mentioned Kenma doesn’t look up from his Nintendo Switch, even at the mention of his name. You watch Kuroo turn around to his companion, coercing him, “Kenma, get up, we’re learning Chem.”

“Can’t we do it later?” Kenma’s voice doesn’t hold anything akin to bitterness or complaint- it’s kind of devoid, actually, in a soft and cute way- and you try to tune out the sound of Kuroo scolding him but he’s so loud when he’s right next to you.

“C’mon, we’re about to go home now, we can stay after school a little longer. Plus, we get to teach this lovely lady about nuclei.”

“I’m right here, you know,” you roll your eyes lightly but before you know it, you’re defending Kozume-san. “We can always work it out, um… I dunno, maybe over lunch on Sunday? I mean, it is Friday and this thing’s due Monday and… we can have more fun studying this if we have food.”

Stupid fucking Kuroo only grins. “Oh, so you’re asking me on a date? Kinda bold, if I don’t say so myself, kouhai-chan.”

“Kuro, stop.” Kenma speaks up and his quiet voice somehow speaks volumes. “We can meet with her on Sunday to do it.” And just like that, he retreats to his Switch without another word.

Kuroo turns to you and shrugs indifferently, contrasting his previously provocative and shitfaced attitude. “The man’s laid down the law. How’s boba on Sunday sound?”

The second time you meet Kenma is on that promised study session.

He has inconspicuous earbuds in, his face illuminated by the glowing light of his DS. He has a DS, too? He still looks cute.

And there’s Kuroo of course, but he’s irrelevant to your case unless it has to do with your god forsaken chem homework.

“You want me to go order some drinks next door?” Kuroo quirks an eyebrow. “My treat.”

“Just a brown sugar milk tea, thanks,” You tell him gratefully. Thank god for men and their dead sense of chivalry.

“No boba? You’re crazy.” Kuroo scrunches his nose at you and you wish Kenma would start talking so you could avoid this big, annoying cat. “What about you, Kenma? Your usual?”

“Yeah,” is all Kenma says.

“Alright, see you nerds later,” Kuroo practically sings out, patting both of your heads like an old man, and takes something from Kenma that you don’t quite catch, but it makes Kenma glare at him.

As soon as Kuroo’s out of sight, you find it a little awkward to keep conversation with Kenma especially with his whole gamer complex, but-

Oh.

Kuroo took Kenna's DS.

“Kuroo-san’s pretty bothersome, huh,” you sigh out in an attempt to stir conversation. Lucky for you, Kenma goes along with the conversation without fight, his eyes peering over you like reflective pools of honey.

(They’re really pretty, you think.)

“Yeah,” Kenma slouches down a little bit more in his chair at the mention of his taller friend. “He’s kind of like my second mom… but not really. Always nagging me to do things.”

You laugh at his solemn, depressed answer. “It’s fun to have him around, though, right? He’s kind of funny sometimes-- the rest he’s annoying-- and he’s decently smart even though I’m pretty sure he’s got, what, three braincells.”

To your unprompted delight, Kenma laughs softly at you poking fun of Kuroo, and the conversation between you and him starts piling up into more, and more, and it all feels so short. You don’t even notice Kuroo coming back and hovering over the table.

“Eh? You and Kenma getting along without me? What a shame, you know. I really do get third-wheeled.” Kuroo lets out a wistful sigh akin to an old man and sits down, drinks in hand. “So, who’s ready to study?”

The third time you meet Kozume Kenma, it’s at your mall’s arcade.

You and your friends are playing one of those claw machines, trying to get that really cute Miku figurine and those adorable plushies, wasting all your coins on these sucker games like the dumb teenagers you are. But a glimpse of familiar, two-toned hair catches your eye.

“Hold on,” you tell your friends who’re still busy trying to get that stupidly gorgeous Sakura Miku figure. “I’m gonna be right back.”

You wander your way to the familiar head of hair, and gratefully, your instinct was right. “Kozume-san? What’re you doing here?”

Kenma practically jumps at the sound of your voice, turning around, eyes wide. “Oh. I just got lost from the team. You’re here too?”

“Mhm,” You smile, pointing at your screaming group of friends. “My friends and I are here just to chill out and have fun. You can hang with us if you want!”

He shakes his head, his hair gracefully framing his face. “Nah, I’m fine, thanks.. I’ll just hold out until Kuro sniffs me out or something.”

You furrow your brow- geez, this kid’s gonna get lost so fast-- and you gently clasp the phone he’s holding in his hand. “Can I give you my number? I’ll pick up immediately if you ever call, just give a ring.”

You fail to notice the surprise that flits over Kenma’s face, but he reluctantly hands you his phone and you tap in your number quickly. “See you around, Kozume-san. Don’t get into trouble.”

And Kenma smiles on his own accord, his face lighting up softly like a lamp under moonlight. “You too.”

The fourth time you meet Kozume Kenma, he’s at your house working on an Japanese Lit assignment.

“Oh? Kozume-kun!” You’re pleasantly surprised when your teacher pairs the two of you up. “Nice to talk with you again.”

“Yeah, “ Kenma blinks a little awkwardly and he shyly grins, which you find even more stunning than it already is because he’s usually held up such a calm, unaffected facade. “Uh. So do you want to meet up at… your house for this? So we can do the project.”

“Oh, yeah,” You wave dismissively, beaming at him because this is your chance to get closer with him. “My little brother’s a nuisance, though, so he might bother us. I hope you don’t mind?”

“No problem.. you can text me the address, because… yeah.” You find it cute how Kenma doesn’t want to mention that the two of you have been texting a lot more lately, and the slightest blush tints his cheeks.

“Of course!”

Flash to your house, the two of you are on the floor, slaving over a giant posterboard with paint and art supplies scattered about.

“I hate making movie posters, it’s so tiring…” You groan out, trying to paint Yukio Mishima’s face with the utmost care. “And this book’s so creepy… why would we wanna make a poster of it? He commits seppuku!”

Kenma grins a little bit and he looks really cute, with his hair tied up in the back and his gaze focused on the painting at hand. “You’re so easily grossed out.”

“But he made it so detailed! You're immune ‘cause you play all those gross horror games.”

He laughs quietly, and you think you're going to heaven. “You couldn't even handle Ao Oni, stop.”

You scowl at the mention of Kenma’s dumb horror games. “He’s this weird deformed grape, okay?? It was kinda scary!”

The two of you end up nowhere near finishing your poster, and you collectively decide to put it off for maybe another day. The rest of your day is spent-- c-cuddling? (no hetero, you reassured Kenma, although you were thinking otherwise)-- and playing more horror games, much to your chagrin.

(But it gave you a reason to hug Kenma tighter.)

You can’t even count the amount of times you’ve met up with Kenma now. You’re in your second-year of high school now and your bond with him as only strengthened.

He invited you eventually to walk to school with him, along with Kuroo, and you find out that it was Kuroo’s coaxing to do so. But you’re still delighted that Kenma agreed on, what, the second time Kuroo nagged him about it?

You and Kenma have gotten fairly close. You’ve vented to him, cried to him, he’s shown his emotional side, too. You’ve even gotten a little closer to Nekoma’s god, Kuroo Tetsurou (to which your friends always complain about- “you can’t take all the cute guys for yourself”). But, in your opinion, the most important part is that you’ve been getting closer to Kozume Kenma, who you once thought would always just be the quiet classmate to you. Who would always be your unattainable, close-guarded crush.

"Kenma!” You yell out, rushing over to him with your backpack practically bouncing off of you with each step. “Wait up, would you?! How do you get out of class so quick??”

 "I was waiting for you either way,” Kenma mumbles and hunches his shoulders together. “Do you wanna go to my house? I have new games and Kuroo won't be bothering us.”

“Can’t we get snacks first?” You know you sound a little bit whiny, but you’re hungry as fuck, and Kenma’s smiling either way.

“I guess.. you’re paying, though.”

“That isn’t fair at all!”

Eventually the two of you walk to your nearest 7/11 and get chips and snacks before leaving promptly, with you holding your chocolate milk and Kenma sipping apple juice. The walk to his house is full of conversation, Kenma equally engaged as you are. But as soon as you arrive at his front doorstep, the hollow noise of an empty apple juice box makes its appearance.

“You drink your juice too fast!” You tease Kenma lightly as he frowns, unlocking the door.

“You just drink too slow,” he replies and shoulders the door open. The two of you make your way inside and flop onto the couch, Kenma crouching near the TV to boot up his newest game. “Damn. I’m still thirsty, too.”

“Language, Kenma,” You chide him, throwing a pillow at him as soon as he sits down next to you on the couch. “And-” it takes every ounce of your willpower not to turn bright red. “-do you want some of my chocolate milk?”

The silence that follows is very short (probably only, what, a second or two?), but it feels like hours of painful quiet. Kenma blinks at you and the pink that dusts his ears becomes more and more prominent each second.

“Yeah… sure,” Kenma finally says and you beam so wide that you’re sure not even the sun could battle the brightness of your happiness right now. You hand him your nearly untouched chocolate milk and his fingers brush against yours as he takes it, sipping at it cautiously like he was afraid something would happen.

(Oh my god he’s so cute.. he looks so cute… he’s drinking my chocolate milk!! He’s so-)

“Oi, Kenma! My mom told me to pick up some tomatoes from y-” The door bursts open to reveal Kuroo Tetsurou.

You freeze, since Kuroo just witnessed you passing a chocolate milk box to Kenma and the latter sipping at the straw. Kenma kind of flushes, his mouth still wrapped around the plastic straw with chocolate milk halfway up.

“Eh? Sharing drinks now?” Kuroo tsks and shakes his head, a smirk gracing his stupidly arrogant face. “You know, you two could get mono. Or any other communicable diseases. Kinda risky, you know?”

“Kuroo, stop!” You’re wildly embarrassed to be caught in this not-so-platonic situation (in your opinion, at least), before Kuroo lets out a hearty laugh.

“You know, that’s an indirect kiss!”

“Didn’t I say stop?!”

“Ah, youth. Indirect kisses! You put your mouth on the straw, then he did. Romance at its finest!”

You know, deep inside, Kuroo just likes to rile you up, but you still bite the bait. “Kuroo, shut up, please??”

And Kenma speaks up for the first time during the whole banter. “Kuro, the tomatoes are on the kitchen table. Go.”

The Nekoma captain quirks an eyebrow before shrugging and heading towards the kitchen. “Thanks. Don’t do anything risky.”

“Kuroo!”

You and Kenma awkwardly glance at each other-- you note he’s still sipping your chocolate milk-- and eventually he stands off to ward Kuroo off (who keeps chuckling for no goddamn reason).

You two are alone again, and his burnt-gold eyes stare into yours.

“Did Kuro bother you?” His ears are still pinkish, but you notice that he’s still comfortable, although you can see a sheen of sweat starting to form on his face.

“Nah... “ You force your voice to stay level. “Why does he keep doing this?? God, he’s so annyoing sometimes… it isn’t like- it isn’t like we’re dating or anything.” God fucking damn stuttering.

Kenma’s eyes widen for a fraction of a millisecond, and you almost miss it, before he clears his throat. “Yeah. Not like that at all.. let’s just go back to playing.”

The atmosphere morphs into the usual, playful one that is held between the two of you, and you’re becoming proud of how much better Kenma is at redefining conversations and shifting the mood whereas in the beginning he would struggle in topic changes.

You’re so proud of him.

(And you’re kind of in love with him.)

You have a group chat with Kuroo and Kenma, unsurprisingly.

It’s, what, midnight on a school day, and the three of you are texting. Kuroo offers a game of ‘truth or dare’, and you accept out of sheer boredom. Plus, dares are so much easier to do online because you can fake nearly anything.

kuroo >:/: kenma truth or dare

kenma :): i’m not playing

YOU: yea you are !! ur not getting out of this

kenma :): fine

  don’t say anything stupid though

kuroo >:/: so whats it gonna b???

Kenma takes a good ten seconds to respond.

kenma :): truth.

kuroo >:/: you got a crush on anyone?

YOU: oooh spicy

kenma :): kuro why

Your heart races a little bit at the comment.

YOU: oh? kenma i thought we were besties :(( why wouldnt u tell me

kenma :): it isn’t that….

  kuro you already know why are you asking me that here

kuroo >:/: for my favorite kouhai [name]-chan

YOU: fuck off kuroo we all know im ur fav bc i pay for ur boba

kuroo >:/: fair

You get impatient with Kuroo’s mindless banter, so you end up texting Kenma privately.

YOU: so who is ur crush????

kenma :): why do you assume i have one

YOU: i mean….u wouldve denied it if u didnt have one?

He leaves you on seen for two minutes and you’re about to text him and complain but his reply shoots back.

kenma :): it’s you

And your heart doesn’t skip a beat. No, it just beats even faster.

The blood is rushing to your face, you can feel it, and a smile tugs at your face subconsciously. Your brain’s running a mile a minute, and you’re so outrageously shocked and unprepared that the aftermath of it all hits you just about a minute later.

(What if he’s lying? What if someone made him say that? What if-)

YOU: fr?

YOU: kenma dont mess w me

kenma :): i’m not

kenma :): you wanted to know so yeah. it’s you

kenma :): i like you and idk kuro says it’s “more than just like” and maybe he’s right

kenma :): see u at school tmr

YOU: WAIT KENMA COME BACK ???

You cute little rat, you seeth internally, happiness still radiating off of you. Is this a dream? Oh my god. Kozume Kenma likes me.

… Kozume Kenma feels the same way I feel about him.

The next day, you anxiously wait for Kenma at your doorstep. You even woke up early and had gotten ready as soon as you could, just so you could catch Kenma ASAP.

You slept surprisingly well, despite your anxiety from Kenma, and your body was filled with energy. You check your phone every two minutes, glancing at his ‘good morning text’ and praying for another one.

kenma :))): gm i’m still walking to school with u if you want… i’ll pass by your house just in case

YOU: oh!!!! yea id love to walk to school w u :))

Silence fills your ears as you anxiously pace back and forth from your doorstep to the curb of your neighborhood. You can’t help but worry as your gaze flits across every house, begging for a sign of Kenma.

(What if you’re too late, you realize in panic. What if your efforts weren’t enough?)

But then the sound of quiet-paced footsteps snaps you out, and you look up to see Kenma, standing in front of your house, an adorably shy expression painted across his face.

“Kenma!” You hate how your voice comes out kind of squeaky and high-pitched but you don’t care right now. You practically launch off of your doorstep and bound toward him, settling by his side.

He gives you a shy, adoring look but you can see the anxiety in his eyes as he points forward in the direction of Nekoma. “We can talk while walking, right?”

You smile breathlessly and your fingers brush against his. He smiles at you, and you notice the same pink dusting his ears like when he was sharing chocolate milk with you.

Two hands intertwine and the conversation begins.

You’re in your third year of college now, out on a “boys (and girl) night out”, as Kuroo deemed it.

Kenma’s got it well-made for him, striking good on his company to which you supported him through the entire time, and Kuroo’s on his way to be the scientist he’s always dreamed of being even as a nerdy-jock kid. He claims he’s practically a professional volleyball player, too, just on the side, but both you and Kenma know better.

You and Kenma have been dating ever since your second-year in high school. Which makes it just about… four-ish years now that you’ve been dating.

(Kuroo claims that in your first-year, you and Kenma were basically dating each other spiritually, but you pay him no mind.)

The three of you are out on the beach on an autumn day. It’s pretty empty, despite the warm evening sun that casts a golden shine on the sand and ocean, so you’re all making epic sandcastles in peace.

“We should make a moat,” Kuroo says, already digging out a ring around the lopsided sandcastle.

“We haven’t even finished the castle itself!” You protest, pushing him lightly as you use your other hand to pat down the base of the castle.

Kenma packs sand into a small bucket and delicately places it on top of the half-finished sand “castle” to make a tower. You find it cute how he’s the only one putting in decent effort, so you help him out by packing in another bucket of sand. “Kuro would be a terrible architect,” Kenma comments.

“You right, you right,” You sigh out while Kuroo squawks in protest. Kenma leans on you, out of instinct you think, and you kiss the top of his head gently. Kuroo covers his eyes and complains about his youth and young love before Kenma haphazardly bumps into you. Which leads to the sand castle collapsing.

“Ah- Kenma!” you cry out in panic, sweeping the sand together in a half-hearted attempt to piece it back into a cohesive castle. “Be careful!”

“No, look,” he says quietly, a small smile gracing his face.

“You worked so hard on the base too, to make it big and flat- oh?” You sit up a little bit when you see a small velvet box in the middle of the sand pile.

Kuroo gasps very loudly and you stare at Kenma in shock.

Oh my god. What’s happening, what’s happening, oh my god-

You slowly reach out for the box in the middle of the mess and take it delicately, brushing off the sand clinging to it. Your fingers pry it open with shaking fingers and you feel Kenma place his hand on your arm gently, his gorgeous honey eyes staring at you. The same honey eyes you fell in love with.

You're also in love with the gorgeous, sparkling amber ring that sits in the middle of the cushioned box.

“[Name]. I want to be married. To you. Will you marry me?” Kenma’s voice is soft and sweet but you know with the convincing sureness in his voice that he’s been practicing this line for at least a month and he’s become confident in it.

You start crying immediately (god damn it, you think to yourself) your heart blooming with joy and your entire body feels like it’s about to explode of pure happiness.

You kiss him, full on the lips with tears streaming down your face and he kisses back, his arms wrapping around you and you realize he’s crying too. With the possibly happiest voice you’ve ever used in your life, you cry out, “Of course I will!” on the beach with Kuroo clapping in the background.

Two years later on that beach, you two become the happiest couple on Earth.

[im-a-meteorite]

i’ve been marathoning the harry potter movies since im in quarantine and i’ve been taking some notes. i’ll post them all bc why not 

sorcerer’s stone

harry knowing that there’s no post on sunday,, a genius

hedwig’s theme playing when harry looks out of the window and sees an owl flying by, very nice

hagrid doing magic at the house on the rock thing,, wouldnt the ministry be able to track that?? since there’s no wizard that lives there, they should be alerted?? or did they remove the trace from hagrid once he got expelled?? like does it work by the trace only or? bc if it doesn’t work by location then how would they know that a muggle witnessed the magic?? idk anymore

the kids staring at the nimbus 2000 and saying its the fastest model yet,, then the camera zooming on the handle w/ the background blurred -> the most straight forward foreshadowing

hagrid is actually the worst person to take harry on his tour situation,, like bro literally left him in the middle of a train station

the weasleys and harry going to the platform while theres a shit ton of ppl walking around,,, statute of secrecy where??

the great hall is on the first floor?? i thought it was on the ground floor

ew the hats

i wish the movies had dumbledore’s weird few words speeches

“theres not one witch or wizard that went bad that wasnt in slytherin” broooo

mcgonagall is so savage i love her

snape is an asshole

a crap ton of chessboards in the great hall study hall scene,, foreshadowing the challenges?

madam hooch really yeeted herself out of neville’s way

✨🥰 oliver wood 🥰✨✨

harry really wiped the troll buggers on his robe,, disgusting

snapes hair is lowkey on fleek tho,,

making most of the slytherins ugly bc they’re the “evil” house is just a disservice to all the inbreeding

hermione setting snape on fire is truly iconic and very extra tbh like sis why tf would u know a spell like that

seasonal transition wasnt that great tbh

overall the directing style is kinda basic

“not in the restricted section,,” rule breaking hermione is the best hermione

dumbledore’s handwriting is so extra and loopy like tf?? but it fits his character

the hedwig flying season transition was good

“immortal?” “it means you’ll never die.” “i know what it means!”

50 points each for being out of bed??? wtf is this point system

filtch saying there’s werewolves in the forbidden forest,,, thats illegal sir

hagrid calling the trio by their first names but draco by his last,, we love favoritism

harry’s thoughts r so ridiculous,, “snape doesnt want the stone for himself, he wants it for voldemort!” lmaoo wtf,, evidence pls sir,, u don’t even know he was a death eater. was it the bad vibes?? bc same

harry figuring out that the person who gave hagrid the dragon egg is voldy,, a genius

“kill us faster?? now i can relax!!” ron is so iconic i love him

“lucky we didnt panic!” “lucky hermione pays attention in herbology”

how is it that harry’s hand burned quirrel but not the skin on harry’s neck?? that shit makes no sense

yeah i really cant imagine this dumbledore fighting voldy in movie 5

hermione’s headband in the reunion scene is so cute i love it

chamber of secrets:

how is dobby even allowed to just jump on the bed?? like is it bc harry isnt his master that he can do smth like that

“dobby has heard about harry potter’s kindness” or whatever,, bro u work for the malfoys either the elves gossip or draco is waxing poetry about harry

aunt petunia saying “we have ice-cream” after that whole affair is just ridiculous

DIAGONALLY

this seems like the extended version bc i dont remember the borgin and bruks scene to be that long

the close ups with lucius and ginny’s books r insane lmao like chris columbus made it so obvious

also mr weasley’s acting is so funny like its so exaggerated

lucius malfoy is so dramatic and extra we love it

also lucius knowing hermione’s name and “draco’s told me all about you”??? bro whats with draco?? lmaoo

snape really got mad with the whole car business

mandrakes r fucking weird bro how did jkr come up with that

PERCY WALKING WITH PENELOPE CLEARWATER??? HOW DID I MISS THAT??

omg colin had so many lines?? wow

omg erol with the fucking howler,, iconic

ron’s facial expressions?? pure comedy, rupret is so good

LOCKHEART REALLY SAID “GOOD GIRL” THEN WINKED AT HERMIONE

“pesky piksy pescinomy” this bitch dumb

“why is it always me?” poor neville

omfg ✨🥰 oliver wood 🥰✨

ahh using the seeker position for fighting

ew draco used the m-word

the shit the basilisk is saying is so lame lmaoo

how does harry not recognize that he’s hearing a different language?? or does parsaltongue act weird

HOW IS THE WHOLE SCHOOL IN THE SAME CORRIDOR???

“i know the counter-curse that could’ve spared her” bitch the dirty looks he got?? omfg

the movies would’ve been 500% better if they had lee jordan’s iconic quidditch commentary

“scarhead” “TRAINING FOR THE BALLET, POTTER?”

“what did you expect?? pumpkin juice??” madam pomfery is a queen

dobby is dumb dumb

“who am i, hedwig? what am i?”

“reading? i didnt know you could read?”

“look at my face” “look at your tail!”

“you can’t cancel quidditch!”

“oh harry, if you die down there, you’re welcome to share my toilet”

lockheart: do you live here? ron: no *smacks him in the head with a rock*

“voldemort is my past, present and future” are all slytherins this dramatic??

the tension between hermione and ron in the last feast was insane

justin filtch fletchy is so ugly im so sorry i cant

prisoner of azkaban:

im sorry but harry doing underage illegal magic pisses me off every time

aunt marge 🤢

“do they use a cane boy?” “oh yeah, i’ve been beaten loads of times”

that whole scene is so chaotic

“you cant do magic outside of school!” “oh yeah? try me”

sirius really dumb for barking at harry like it makes no sense

the knight bus is probably one of the best things in this movie

“whatcha doing down there??” “i fell over” “whacha fell over for?” “i didnt do it on purpose!” “well come on then, lets not wait for the grass to grow”

harry leans over and looks for the grim, stan: “whatcha looking at?”

“yeah take it away ernie,, its gonna be a bumpy ride”

this whole thing is written and directed so perfectly

i hate how they replaced tom bc it really made no sense

all the bits of magic in the leaky caldron is so genius

fudge reminds me of trump but like dumber

the blue lighting and coloring is just great, it fits the colder vibe of the story (not like HBP with the hazy/blurry effect)

ugh the glass and mirror transitions are one of my favorite things,, alfonso curon really did that 

i love the weasleys,, also everyone looks great in this movie

omg the scene with arthur talking to harry about sirius with the sirius poster always being in sight?? amazing

contrast of light and darkness just echos the whole dementor vs patronus situation

i dont even understand why remus took the train other than for the nostalgia

the lights slowly turning off in the different carriages?? amazing

the visual representation of the dementors’ effect is great

REMUS!!!

i wish there was more emotion from remus when he’s talking about sirius,, like that was one of his only friends

snape clapping literally twice for remus,, ajhshsh

ahh the placement of the slytherin and gryffindor tables right beside each other to increase the tension and further the plot

oh yea the new dumbledore, also cool hat he has

omg the new fat lady painting

omg the candy scene?? so cute i love lads being lads. that scene just echo’s dumbledore’s light in the dark quote bc its storming outside at night and they’re creating a happy environment within the dark especially with the dementors

ah yes the clock references + following the bird to show us important parts of hogwarts and putting the whomping willow in the forefront

ron’s reading of harry’s tea leaves,, still on point tho. ron really has a knack for divination

buckbeak! omg drapple

draco is so hot especially with that ring also the slytherin pins??

“oh yeah, terribly funny, really witty. god, this place has gone to the dogs”

the kids look so messy i love it + harry’s uneven tie

HERMIONE CLINGING TO RONS ARM!!

“its killed me! your gonna regret this, you and your bloody chicken”

omg the boggart lesson

“riddikulus!” “this class is ridiculous”

fuck snape!

draco really pushed someone with his bandaged arm

remus is such an amazing professor i love him and i just miss him so much

ugh harry in this hoodie?? amazing

remus and harry’s conversation with the music :(( lily :((

wtf is that eye painting??

percy screaming about being head boy,, bro stfu

sirius is such a dramatic little bitch i love it

seasonal changes marked by the wimping willow

“turn to page 394”

what a fucking rude ass bitch,, i hate snape

harry really be seeing the grim everywhere

i wish they had “wheres wood?” “trying to drown himself in the shower”

winter transition with hedwig! + clock tower

“come and join the big boys”

i just adore this scene of the twins giving harry the map (bro i really want a series about the marauders)

whos that skinny bitch with draco???

harry’s way too rash tbh

also mcgonagall being also too nonchalant about the whole marauder’s situation?? like those werent your students

remus is a soft boy dark academia icon

if only dumbledore wasnt a dumbass,, remus could have been uncle moony raising harry with sirius

ron’s nightmare scene?? iconic

“my dad didnt strut. nor do i” umm james potter was also a drama queen sooo probably strutting

“you, YOU FOUL LOATHSOME EVIL LITTLE COCKROACH” “hermione no, he’s not worth it”

sirius’ dog form really looks like a rabid dog omfg

the part where hermione grabs harry while she’s on the wimping willow omfg

“only one will die tonight” YOU DRAMATIC BITCH UR NOT MAKING THIS BETTER

“finally the flesh reflects the madness within” “well you’d know all about the madness within, wouldn’t you remus?”

why the fuck is the shreaking shack is swaying in the wind??

QUARRELING LIKE AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE

why the fuck didnt they knock peter out?? like tf?? they’re actually dumb dumb there were so many ways for this to go right

this man really sent 2 13-year-olds on this dumbass mission

buckbeak really beat up remus,, “professor lupin’s having a really tough night”

harry’s a fucking psycho with this patronus bullshit,, i cant

can they stop screaming while flying on buckbeak?? someone might hear them

im still mad sirius didnt get his name cleared,, so much would’ve changed

“we did it” “did what? goodnight” i fucking hate dumbledore and his mindlessness omfg sometimes i wanna punch him in the face

fuck snape for outing remus as a werewolf,,, but also he really didnt have to resign. like istg wheres the marauder energy when it comes to defying everyone??

i wish the movies had went into the marauders’ history :(( its one of my favorite aspects of the series