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threeletterslife · 4 years ago

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Propinquity (Law of Seesaw)

→ [6/7] of the Glossary Series

→ summary: You first meet him on a seesaw. What a surprise, your relationship with him is exactly like that of a seesaw too—there are ceaseless ups and downs. So much so that you wonder when it’ll end.

→ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 50% fluff, 33% angst, 17% crack | e2l!au

→ warnings: profanity, mean insults

→ wordcount: 9.2k

♫: Seesaw by BTS

You can't remember the last time you've gone a week without fighting.

There is always a new problem that arises. A new argument that is sparked from the depths of trivial problems. Then Yoongi stops talking to you for a day (or days if the fight is serious) and sleeps downstairs on the couch until he wants to crawl back to you and apologize. Other times, you're the one who has to drag yourself to your boyfriend's study with a plate of his favorite fruit and an apology in your head.

But it seems like the fighting never ends.

Now the bed feels cold. It is empty. Just like you.

You know that Yoongi's downstairs, either working with his new client (through the dead of the night) or already sleeping on the small couch. Though you're supposed to be mad at him, you worry. The couch isn't good for his already deteriorating posture. But you can't nag at him now. It'll result in more arguments.

When was the last time you and Yoongi didn't fight, though?

The correct answer is never.

From day one, you and Yoongi were destined enemies.

"Hi." You're a proud little child, standing up straight with your hands on your hips. A bit chubby and round in the middle but you flaunt the extra weight. "My mommy says I need to make friends before kindergarten starts."

"My mommy says not to talk to strangers." The young boy peeks at you through his shaggy black hair. He rocks the paint-nicked seesaw by himself, kicking his feet off the ground only to come back down with a light oof.

"I'm not a stranger," you scoff, crossing your hands over your chest. "Let me play on the seesaw!"

Yoongi doesn't even have time to answer because you're crawling up on the opposite side already. "H-Hey!" he yells but he's too late. The moment you innocently perch upon the seesaw, you’re slammed to the ground and Yoongi's lifted up high in the air.

Ah, the weight difference.

"GET ME OFF!" Yoongi screams. "GET ME OFF!!"

Your eyes turn wide. You hadn't meant to scare the boy. You thought everyone wanted to fly up in the air, and you were just granting the little boy's wish. In your head, you didn't even think of the possibility that Yoongi is afraid of heights. (Which was stupid of him to even try playing on the seesaw in the first place.)

"GET OFF!" Yoongi yells viciously at you. His face has turned a bright shade of pink and purple.

You think he looks like he's about to suffocate.

"I'M SORRY!" you shriek as you dive off the seesaw.

Yoongi lets out a high-pitched, ear-piercing scream as he subsequently flings off the seesaw. He lands on his butt several centimeters away from the rusty playground equipment and bursts out crying.

You gasp. Oh no. This was bad. Very, very bad. So you do the first thing that comes to your head: run away.

The boy's cries become louder and louder as you sprint in the opposite direction, but you grit your teeth and dash on. Eventually, your guilt for throwing off a boy from the playground seesaw dissipates when your mother buys you ice cream for lunch. Food is always the solution.

You have no idea that day you accidentally made a little boy cry was the day you met your future boyfriend. You just thought you met a crybaby coward.

And he thought he met the devil. If the devil was a chubby little girl with chipmunk cheeks and rolls on her arms.

You two had no idea you would meet again.

So far, the first day of kindergarten isn't going so great. All the other girls brought their barbies to class. You brought your stuffed animal snake—Mr. Slithers.

And now the other girls don't really like you. Because "snakes are icky!" Their words, not yours.

If they only knew this week was a rainforest theme in your head. Every day of the week, you would prepare to bring a new stuffed animal that lived in the rainforest. Today would be the green snake, then tomorrow, the tree frog and so on. But no one applauds your genius planning skills.

So you mope around for half of the day. The girls are playing princesses with their stupid barbies and they won't let you join because a snake cannot wear a ball gown.

You end up poking at the seesaw in the kindergarten playground. It's boring when there's no one else to sit on the other side. Mr. Slithers isn't heavy enough to seesaw with you either. You want your mommy.

"You!" a high-pitched voice shrieks.

Jumping, you whip your head around to see the little boy. No. The same little boy who you accidentally flung backward on the seesaw.

"Are you gonna throw me off the seesaw again?" he yells. For such a skinny little boy he has quite a loud voice.

"I didn't mean it!" you yell back.

"You need to apologize to me!"

"No!"

You run away again.

And just like a real big stupidhead, Yoongi tattletales on you to the kindergarten teacher, Mr. Kim. In your defense, you didn't even do anything to Yoongi at kindergarten, so Mr. Kim can't make you apologize to stupid Min Yoongi.

Mr. Kim agrees with your defense. But he doesn't approve of you using the word, stupid, so you have to apologize to Yoongi anyways. While you're positively livid, Yoongi is triumphant.

That is only the start of the rivalry.

In first grade, Yoongi calls you fat.

You aren't normally one to waste your time tattling to the adults, but Yoongi did it to you in kindergarten so it only feels right to get revenge. But apparently calling someone fat is much worse than calling someone stupid. Yoongi has to apologize to you and he has to sit in the time out corner. He also gets a call home so his parents are notified of his bad behavior.

In second grade, you start losing weight. Not because Yoongi called you fat. But because you figured you should start exercising to be as healthy as your gym rat parents. When you tell the second-grade class you want to become a football star and you've planned out your whole athletic pathway, Yoongi is the first one to rudely laugh at you. So you make sure to boo his presentation when he brags about writing a whole book by himself (it's called Dot Goes to School—pretty mediocre stuff). Both of you have your recess privileges taken away.

Staying in for recess with someone you absolutely despise is not worth the satisfaction you got from teasing them. So you and Yoongi become more discreet in your never-ending ways to spite each other.

In third grade, Yoongi calls you a stick during recess. He makes sure to say it loud enough so you can hear his insult but not as loud so the playground monitor doesn't hear. Sneaky brat. You turn to him with flashing eyes and tell him very upfrontly, "Says you."

The rivalry still exists in fourth grade, when both of you feel like you're too old to play on the playground. The seesaw incident is still ingrained in the backs of both of your heads, though. So even when you and Yoongi have your separate groups of friends, you still manage to be mean to each other.

For instance, the day before the annual fourth-grade square dance, you and your new group of friends spread a rumor that Yoongi has cooties. As a result, no one wants to be his partner the next day.

But then your partner, that brat, Park Jimin calls in sick on D-Day and so your plan backfires in your face. You dance with Yoongi. And now you have cooties too.

In fifth grade, girls are starting to talk about boys during recess. When the shy, cute Gayoung confesses her crush on Min Yoongi, you have to excuse yourself from the friend group. Instead, you go out on the fields to play soccer with the guys. Thankfully, cooties are 'for babies' in fifth grade, so you have free reign with the boys.

Park Jimin confesses he likes you in sixth grade. He tells you that you are pretty. But his confession was definitely not in your schedule. You're supposed to go to swim practice in five minutes. So you wave him off. Not because you hate him. But let's face it. The boy ditched you in fourth grade and you had to dance with Yoongi. Plus, now Jimin's Yoongi's friend. There is no way in hell you are going to butt noses with Yoongi's friend.

The whole grade goes in an uproar when they find out you rejected Jimin. You couldn't care less.

Seventh grade is weird. You finally get your period. And the new sex-ed class collectively makes everyone embarrassed. It also starts the influx of period jokes from yours truly, the boys. Whenever a girl is in a bad mood, the boys yell, "YOU MUST BE ON YOUR PERIOD!" You make note of every guy who says this. Then the second time they yell that to a poor girl, you hold up a tampon with ketchup on it. It shuts them up so well that all the girls in your grade start to carry around tampons and ketchup packets.

Surprisingly enough, Yoongi isn't part of the rowdy group of boys who make insulting period jokes. He's gotten much quieter over the years (middle school must've brought some sort of maturity on him), but he still finds ways to make your life miserable.

When there are rumors that Jimin will ask you out to the Halloween dance, you actually prepare to accept—maybe just to spite Yoongi. But turns out the whole rumor was a lie made up by the boy you despise. So you're rendered embarrassed.

In eighth grade, to your surprise, Gayoung asks Yoongi out. Of course, Yoongi would say yes. He knows you hate Gayoung. She had grown ample boobs and fit in with the popular girls who talked about boy bands and got dress-coded every day. You have no idea why such a popular girl would ask out a nerdy, rat-faced boy. But apparently, Yoongi is conventionally handsome. What a load of bullcrap.

It irks you even more when they become a revolutionary couple—the first time a girl has asked out a boy.

You make a bet with your friends that the couple won't last a week. Your wallet cries that year. You lose nearly ₩30,000.

By tenth grade, they are still dating.

You're starting to wonder if Yoongi somehow got his grubby hands on a love potion. There's just no way that whiny asshole can keep a girlfriend for that long. But according to your friend who is friends with the friends of the friends of Gayoung's friends, Yoongi is a good boyfriend. You want to gut yourself after hearing that.

Gayoung is always bragging about how Yoongi buys her flowers before class, and she makes sure everyone knows of this by posting pictures of the aromatic bouquets on Instagram. Yoongi often writes her little love poems and short stories, and though you're 100% sure Gayoung doesn't read them, she posts those online too. God, she is so annoying that you unfollow her. (You've blocked Yoongi's account a long time ago.)

For the most part, though, when hating Yoongi is not on your mind, your life is pretty normal. And you're definitely content. You and a sporty transfer student from America, Jungkook, have hit it off. It's fun taking him around everywhere to taste test all the convenience stores in Korea.

Until the day you catch Jimin and Gayoung lip-locking behind your favorite kimbap store. You and Jungkook look at each other with wide eyes. Before Jungkook can stop you, you snap a quick picture of the action and run away, tugging your friend along with you.

"Dude, you should delete that picture," Jungkook says for the billionth time.

"No can do," you tell him. "I'm sending it to Yoongi."

"To spite him?"

"Duh."

"Aren't you helping him by telling him his girlfriend is a cheater?" Jungkook challenges.

You squint. "You're actually right, Kook. Then I won't tell him."

"Isn't that a little bit too mean?"

"What??"

"I mean, they've been dating since eighth grade. It's been nearly two years, right?" Jungkook points out. "I think Yoongi deserves to know."

"Don't you dare!" you gasp.

"Sorry, Y/N," Jungkook shrugs. "It's just the right thing to do."

Two days later, Gayoung comes to school wearing not the school uniform but a short skirt and tight shirt. Her arm slings around Jimin, her apparent new boyfriend. Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

Rumor travels around fast. And they're all accurate for the most part.

But it's not very satisfying to see Yoongi missing from all the action. The whole school day, you wonder where the fuck the boy is. Maybe he's crying his guts out. You've never experienced heartbreak before, so you're not sure if you have the right to say Yoongi necessarily deserves it. You can say though, that he had it coming. After all, all those years he teased you, he hadn't felt a single bit of remorse.

Sucks for him.

It's dark by the time you begin to walk home from school. You'd stayed late to brush up on your horrible chemistry skills so you wouldn't completely fail the final test. On the walk back, you notice the familiar playground. You'd grown up with that thing. But it's been a while since you've cared enough to stare at it.

Usually, the rusty old playground is empty. But today, a figure sits in the shadows. More specifically on the seesaw.

It brings back memories. That had been the same seesaw that had started your rivalry with Min Yoongi. And someone's sitting on it.

You squint, your curiosity getting the better of you as you creep towards the figure. Oh god. Once you see the outline of the person, you know this isn't going to be a very fun experience. Ew, you think. Gross.

But that's until it occurs to you that the person is crying.

Holding your breath, you walk closer to the crying boy. He's shaking, hands covering his face. The other side of the seesaw is up in the air.

He's crying about Gayoung, you realize.

You breathe out. "Need someone to sit down to fling you out again?"

Yoongi jumps. He hiccups. Then he quickly wipes away the tears streaming down his face. "Shut up."

You grin, sitting down on the other side of the seesaw. And this time, neither of you fling off. It is completely balanced.

"What are you doing here?" Yoongi croaks when he realizes you're not going to be leaving any time soon. He sniffles, but for the most part, he hides the fact that he'd been crying very expertly.

"I dunno." You shrug. "What are you doing here?" When there's a pause, you add, "I didn't see you in school."

"Oh, didn't know you cared."

"I don't."

"Figured."

"Did you break up with Gayoung?"

Yoongi laughs scornfully. "No. She broke up with me."

"Yikes, really?"

"What is your deal, Y/N?" Yoongi sighs. "Are you going to laugh in my face? Tell me I deserve this?"

"Not anymore..." you grumble. "Because now there's no element of surprise."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "I reckon you spread the rumor?"

"...The rumor?"

"Yeah, the fucking rumor!" Yoongi shouts, throwing up his hands. "You're the one who told everyone Gayoung was cheating on me!"

"Woah, there! I didn't say anything about it!" you yell. "It's not my fault your ex decided to hook up with Jimin!"

"What??"

"Here! I have the fucking receipts!" You whip out your phone, aggressively swiping through your photos before landing on the exact one you were looking for. When you show Yoongi, his eyes turn wide but his posture deflates. He looks defeated.

"She actually cheated...?"

The way he says it with wide eyes and a slumped attitude makes you feel a tiny bit of pity. But the habit of being mean to Yoongi sticks.

"I'm not even surprised."

Yoongi glares at you.

"I mean," you say with an innocent shrug, "she's been eyeing other guys since you started dating her."

"I know..."

You are not about to show sympathy to Min Yoongi. You are not going to let down your guard. You are going to stay cold and emotionless—

"I'm... uh... I... er, I guess I'm sorry."

Yoongi lifts an eyebrow. "Why are you sorry?"

"Well, it just seemed like you really liked her—"

"Nah."

"Oh?"

"This is going to sound very stupid."

"Try me." You grin. "In my eyes, you always sound stupid. Remember? I got in trouble for calling you stupid in kindergarten."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "How could I forget?" He grips the seesaw handles. "I don't think I've ever really liked Gayoung."

"Damn, this is tea," you gasp. "Why bother dating her for so long, then?"

"Ha!" Yoongi laughs. "Good question, Y/N. I don't know," he says sarcastically. "I was probably trying to piss you off. Didn't think it'd last that long."

"Oh??" You raise your eyebrows. "But didn't I just see you cry over Gayoung?"

"Er—"

You definitely caught him in a lie. Though it's dark, you can imagine Yoongi flushing a bright shade of pink—he does that when he's guilty. Not that you cared enough to notice over the years.

"It's okay she's with Jimin now. Not your problem."

"Is this your half-assed attempt of trying to solace me?"

"No?" You make a face. "Why on earth would you think I'm trying to solace you, Yoongi? You called me fat in first grade."

"I see you still hold grudges."

"Oh, that's really my only talent," you snort.

"Aren't you a really good planner?"

"Me?" Is this a compliment you hear?—and from the Min Yoongi?

"Yeah, you're going to plan the graduation ceremony, right? They hand-picked you from the student council, didn't they?"

"Well, uh, yeah." You raise your eyebrows in both surprise and suspicion. "Didn't think you'd care."

"I don't."

Of course.

"Okay, fine by me."

"Why are you even here again?"

You pause. Actually, why are you here? You could've just simply walked away and never had this conversation with Yoongi. But you'd stopped. And now you're talking with him. You answer him truthfully. "I really have no idea."

Another pause.

"Are you gonna ask me to leave?"

"... No."

"Oh." You cock your head. "Okay."

The two of you stare at each other. A staring game commences.

But Yoongi blinks first, claiming you the victor of the little contest. "You can stay if you want."

You scoff. "Excuse me, I didn't know I needed your permission."

Yoongi throws his hands up in the air. "Do you always have to fucking pick a fight?"

"You're the one who starts them!"

"I didn't even say anything mildly rude."

Okay, he might kind of have a point. Maybe all those years of hating him have ingrained permanent hatred in your head, so whatever comes out of Yoongi's mouth seems like an insult that you have to respond to with equal rudeness by reflex.

"Where did we even go wrong?" you sigh, rubbing your forehead.

Yoongi snorts. "Literally right here. On this seesaw."

"You're right," you laugh. This is probably the first time you and Yoongi have agreed on something; it's a foreign feeling that doesn't quite settle right in your stomach.

"Remember when Jimin had a crush on you?"

"Oh stop—" Just one single sentence brings back so many memories.

"Now he's downgraded to girls like Gayoung," Yoongi snorts.

"Oh?" A wide smile stretches across your lips. "Are you saying I'm an upgrade compared to that vile girl?"

"When you put it that way, I'm not so sure."

In any other circumstance, you'd think Yoongi's attacking you again, putting up another unnecessary fight. But right now, it's obvious he's just teasing you.

"Let's face it, Yoongi. I'm better than your ex, aren't I?" you tease right back.

"Barely," he grumbles, but he mumbles under his breath, "but yes."

Thankfully, your owl ears pick up the last part and you grin haughtily. "That's all I needed to hear." Just by habit, you glance down at your watch, frowning when it reads a little past 10 p.m. You're definitely behind schedule right now. Strangely, though, it's kind of worth it, talking to your self-proclaimed nemesis without ripping each other apart with moderately hurtful words.

Yoongi takes notice of you checking the time. Always the same, he thinks. He can't remember the last time he saw you without a watch.

"Anyways... it's getting kind of late..." you say. But you're careful not to stand up from the seesaw—just in case you'll accidentally fling Yoongi off again.

Yoongi nods in agreement. "Yeah." But what he hears next is beyond what he would've ever thought would come out of your mouth next.

"Wanna get some cup ramen? I know a good convenience store nearby."

"With me??" The words slip out of Yoongi's mouth before he can maintain his stoic, chilled composure.

"Why not?" You shrug. "Maybe tonight's the night we can finally stop fighting and act civil for once."

"I am getting tired of the back and forth bickering," Yoongi admits. "Not a bad idea, Y/N."

"I come up with genius ideas once in a while." You flip your hair back and grin. "We just can't stay out before 12 because I need to plan my friend's birthday party before 1."

"I'll get you home by then."

"You're going to walk me home? How boyfriendly."

"It's a habit," Yoongi grumbles.

"A good habit. Keep it up, Min," you laugh. "Then you'll get a new girl in no time."

The two of you count to three before carefully getting off the seesaw together. There are no accidents this time. Everything seems... balanced.

The most what the fuck moment in your life comes when you wake up one morning and realize the person you text and hang out the most is, indeed, Yoongi. Months ago, the thought of him made your blood boil. Now, he's just a friend—a very close friend, too.

Entering eleventh grade with Yoongi by your side is weird. Every other school year, the two of you tried to stay away from each other as much as possible. Yet this year, it's the complete opposite. The two of you solace each other. Even if that involves heavy teasing and harsh verbal exchanges.

"You idiot!" Yoongi shrieks. "And you just let her get away with it?"

"Why yes, why yes I did!" you scream in your shrill voice that makes Yoongi almost flinch back. "What was I supposed to do? Yell at her and tell her I deserved to be class president and not her? Tell her to her face that she cheated the votes?"

"Yes?!"

"Well, I didn't have the guts!"

"Why do you always run away from your fucking problems?"

Yoongi's words pierce through your heart and suck up your anger, replacing it with regret. He’s right though. When something doesn't go the way you planned, you have a habit of ditching. You're afraid of the consequences that will follow when you freestyle everything. And Yoongi knows this.

"I-I... I just... It's easier," you sigh, slumping over your desk seat. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Fight back maybe?" Yoongi's tone is softer after he sees you become dispirited. "I mean, hey, you win some, you lose some."

"I know... I just feel like I'm always losing these days."

"It's okay," Yoongi says. His big hands awkwardly pat at your back. And as funny as it is that he's attempting to comfort you, you're actually well comforted. "Doesn't matter whether you win or lose. What matters is the experience."

"Wise words."

"Well, I'm a wise person." Yoongi gives you a shit-eating grin.

"Oh god."

Sometimes, Yoongi's the one who breaks down, though it's not as often as you do. But once the storm comes, it's hard to make it leave.

"Please don't talk to me right now."

"But Yoongi," you plead, knocking on the door to his room. "I had to practically beg your parents to let me in!" you whisper angrily. "Come on, open the damn door!"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Do you want me to break the door down??"

Silence follows and a small click indicates that the locked door is now open. You carefully turn the knob and push. Yoongi faces you immediately and the way his eyes are red and his cheeks are wet is indicative of a beforehand hysterical crying session.

"Oh, Yoongi..."

"I said I don't want to talk about it," he mutters. But you know he's just saying that because talking about it will make him cry again. You know him too well.

You pull him into a hug. "Maybe music isn't for you," you say. "It's okay if you failed that path. There are many more to take."

He's silent, squeezing you tightly. But you don't mind the silence at all. It's more peaceful that way, and you know he's actually listening to you when he's not talking.

"You're good at writing aren't you?" you whisper, patting his back. "Maybe that's your path. And if it isn't, so what? Poke at every pathway until you find one that's just right for you."

It's advice for yourself as well. Yoongi's upset that he was rejected from a music audition he was preparing to pass for years; he knew he wanted to pursue music and he did it, though it might not have been very successful. You, on the other hand, have no idea what you want to do in the future.

"I guess we both have to start on new paths now, right?"

By twelfth grade, you and Yoongi are beginning to bicker like a married couple. At least, that's what Jungkook says.

"For the last time, we do not sound married!"

Jungkook rests his head on the palm of his hand. "Sure. Sure."

"The thought of even being romantically interested in Y/N gives me goosebumps," Yoongi snorts.

"But the good kind of goosebumps if you know what I'm talking about," Jungkook says. He wiggles his eyebrows in such a suggestive way that you mock vomit.

"Okay, gross," you groan. "The day I catch feelings for Yoongi is the day the whole world will end."

"Um, right back at you," Yoongi frowns. "Don't worry," he says, giving you a cocky grin. "I'm very repulsive. You'll never catch feelings for me."

"We'll see about that," Jungkook snickers.

Every year, Yoongi writes you a birthday letter. Even now, in college, he manages to find time to make the same effort he's made for the past two years. Every year, he somehow makes you cry with his elaborate words. And every year, Yoongi films it because he's a little shit.

This year though, the tone of the letter is much, much sweeter than you expected. Almost as if it's a love serenade and not a platonic letter to your best friend. The writing is elaborately flourished and fluffed up to the point it sounds like a love poem. And you swear Yoongi spritzed perfume on the envelope because the letter smells (shockingly) amazing. The message itself doesn't make you cry. Instead, after you finish reading it, you stare up at Yoongi's camera in shock, jaw dropped open but no words coming out of your mouth. Yoongi seems to like that reaction a lot, and he even zooms up on your dumbstruck face to make fun of it later.

He'd written ten things he loves about you. And it drove you crazy that you didn't know whether it was platonic or romantic.

Love, Yoongi. He'd signed the letter. Not the usual, From your bestest motherfucking greatest friend, Yoongi.

What the fuck did 'Love, Yoongi' even mean??

And it happens so that the two of you fight about it later on.

"This year's birthday video is the best one yet," Yoongi laughs as he tries to turn the camera around to show you the screen.

You jerk away, frowning. "That is not funny."

"Why? Didn't like my letter this year?" He's teasing you but you're annoyed.

"It was different."

"A good different?" Yoongi nudges your shoulder, a smug smirk plastered on his lips.

"Literally, please, stop. Before I wipe that smirk off your face."

"Okay, okay," Yoongi sighs, raising up his hands in defense. "I bet you're just salty you can't name ten things you love about me."

"You're right, right now, I can name zero things," you scoff.

"Liar. You wouldn't have stuck by my side for this long if you didn't love me."

The fact that he's right makes it more irritating.

"Fine. One. You're an asshole—"

"Come on, is that really a reason?" Yoongi laughs. "This isn't ten things you hate about me, you know."

"Hear me out. You're a certain species of asshole that I find slightly more bearable than any other asshole," you say. "I think you're a tolerable asshole. It's a compliment."

"Thanks?"

"Two. You're an idiot—"

"Is this how the rest of the reasons gonna go?" Yoongi scoffs incredulously. "My letter was heartfelt at least!"

"No, but you're a bearable idiot. The kind that irks your strings just enough to make you pissed but not enough to make you explode. No idiot is tolerable but at least once in a million years you give good advice." You shrug as Yoongi shakes his head in denial.

"I always give good advice."

You roll your eyes. "Three. You're not very good looking—"

"I shouldn't even have asked," Yoongi grumbles. "Why did I fucking bother?"

"No, but you're not ugly. Isn't that good news?" you giggle as Yoongi just shakes his head at you. "It's perfect! That way, you attract people with your personality and not your looks! It's a compliment," you add when Yoongi glares at you.

"Whatever," he says.

"Four!" you say triumphantly. "You are drama-free. Except with me. But I'm an exception because I'm special."

"You got that right," Yoongi mutters underneath his breath. "What about five?" Compared to a minute ago, he looks more interested in your list now.

"Five? Well, you're genuine," you say nodding your head. "You wouldn't let me walk around with an eyelash on my face or spinach stuck between my teeth."

"Yeah 'cause you'd embarrass me too because you'd be by my side," Yoongi protests.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that."

"Fine. Six?"

"Six... hm..." you hum. "You have pretty eyes."

Yoongi laughs out loud. "Thanks, I guess."

"Seven... let's see... hm..." You rub your chin thoughtfully. "Well, you put the toilet seat down for me."

"My mother didn't raise a hooligan."

"I actually agree with you on that one," you say, laughing. "For eight, I want to just say you're a good friend."

"You stole my number 8 on my letter to you!"

"Yoongi, you should just be glad I even repeated it back to you," you giggle. "Wanna hear nine before I forget?"

Your friend sighs but he nods.

"You're a very good writer. And I'm not just saying that to boost your already enormous ego or anything, but I genuinely think you can write," you say. "And I love that because then I get these good ass letters on special occasions. It's weird how you can choose each word so carefully that all of the meanings fit in this gigantic well-flowing story. And you'd think you'd use all these hard vocabulary words to throw me off, but your writing's easy to read and comprehend. It makes it more impactful." You quirk your brow at your friend who finally looks satisfied. "Is that enough?"

"Yes, now that's more like it!" Yoongi grins. "Butter up my ego a bit more, won't you?"

"Can't. I don't have a number ten for you." You shrug. "Sorry."

"C'mon, you can only think of nine reasons why you love me?" Yoongi leans into you, poking your cheek. "I thought of eleven but I had to take one off. This isn't very fair."

"Oh? What was the eleventh?"

"It was more of a joke so you don't need to know."

"Excuse me? I love jokes—even though I don't take them very well."

"Yeah, well, I especially don't want you to take this a bad way," Yoongi says.

"Was it something mean about me??"

"Kind of."

You frown, scrunching your nose. "Try me."

Yoongi shrugs. "Fine, then. I called you oblivious. Happy?"

You lean back from your friend, giving him a disgraceful look. "Me? Oblivious? First of all, no. And second of all, why would you love that about me?"

"Oh, I don't know, because you're so oblivious you can't even tell that I like you??"

One look at Yoongi and you can tell he's dead serious. "Woah," you breathe. You want to ask him to repeat what he just said to see if you heard him correctly the first time. But he's already looking a little impatient at your delayed answer. So you gape at him, muttering a soft, "Like? As in...?" You can't finish the sentence.

"As in love?" Yoongi finishes for you. "Sure."

"Bro..."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "I thought the letter made it obvious, Y/N."

"Well, I thought you were joking." You fidget with your hands. "Damn, Yoongi, now what the fuck am I supposed to say?"

"Do whatever you want with that information," he says, shrugging so nonchalantly that you wonder if this man even has feelings.

"Broo..."

"And if that means you're gonna keep saying 'bro,' then I guess that's fine too." He gives you a shit-eating grin.

"No, it's just that... wow. Since when??"

"Like, a year ago? Bit after Jungkook called us a married couple," Yoongi says. "But I'm so dead inside I hid it pretty fucking well. I kept thinking it'd go away too, but man, I still like you now, so I guess the feelings aren't going away anytime soon."

"But what are you proposing??" You run your hands through your hair. "That we go out??"

"Okay, you said it, not me."

You huff. It's weird. This dynamic you have with Yoongi. One moment you're bickering and the next, Yoongi's confessing his feelings for you. Strangely, though, you're not as turned off as you expected.

"One date."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. "One date?"

"You can buy me dinner, and if it goes horribly, we're going right back to friends," you bargain. "In the case that it goes well, then, uh, you tell me."

Yoongi laughs. "Oh, I'll be the one to tell you, all right."

And unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the way you look at it), he's right. Four days later, your relationship with Yoongi becomes official. It irks your strings that none of your friends are even the slightest bit surprised about your newfound romantic relationship with the man you'd known for way more than half of your life.

"We all saw it coming, Y/N," they tell you. "We're actually surprised you two didn't date sooner."

But Yoongi is actually a good boyfriend, so there are no regrets. Aside from the small bickering here and there (the married couple kind of arguing), your relationship with him is sound. And the fact that not much has changed in the way you treat each other since you began dating makes you wonder if you were technically in love with Yoongi this whole time but you were way too blinded by your stupid senses and habitual, platonic teasing that you didn't think you actually liked him romantically. It doesn't really matter now, though. Because you're with him anyway.

Yoongi's love language is quality time and coincidentally, so is yours. College becomes a blast. When you're not studying, you're with Yoongi and when you're not with Yoongi, you're 'studying,' but really thinking of your boyfriend.

Yoongi has a way of plaguing your mind. It's been like that since you were little, too.

Once out of college, things become more difficult. Marriage matures into a serious question that neither you nor Yoongi is ready for. So both of you put it off.

As soon as you secure a job as an event planner and Yoongi becomes a professional grant writer, the honeymoon phase of the relationship plummets to the ground.

For nearly eighteen years you were a victim of Yoongi's 'teasing.' His judgmental remarks. But there is a time and place to be a critique.

"Oh, come on, the food isn't even that bad, Yoongi. Just a little bland. That's it."

"There was a hair in my soup," your boyfriend complains. "I'm asking for another bowl."

"Okay, fine, but don't ask for the manager like last time."

"Last time, the waitress called me a tightwad!! What was I supposed to do?"

"Just let it slide? You yelled at her for bringing you bad food when she didn't even cook it! Can you please stop acting so above everybody?"

"Whatever." Yoongi sets down his silverware. "I'm gonna Uber home." He tosses you his credit card and it slides across the wooden table and stops right in front of your dish. "And I'm going to write a Yelp review of this shitty place."

"You're not a fucking entitled writer! Stop acting like one!" you call out to him as he turns his back to you and storms away.

You end up eating dinner at a restaurant by yourself. Yoongi's right, the place is shitty, and the food is bland, but it's not downright intolerable.

Often, these days, it feels like your relationship with Yoongi is spiraling downward. The two of you cannot seem to agree on anything. It reminds you when you'd hated him in your younger years. But you can't hate him now; you live with him.

He's unavoidable.

Usually, Yoongi drives. The car feels foreign to you only because you normally don't sit in the driver's seat. The short mixtape of songs Yoongi wrote and produced for you plays the moment you turn on the engine. He'd gifted that to you a few months ago, after one of your bigger fights. You let the soft serenades play as you drive home.

No matter how many times you and Yoongi fight, the two of you make it up to each other somehow. There is no fight without a resolution. Yoongi will be waiting for you when you get home.

And he is. He's waiting with a blueberry yogurt cake from Paris Baguette sitting on the kitchen island and a letter in his hand. A written apology. Because Yoongi thinks he conveys his feelings better in writing than with spoken words.

"I'm sorry for storming off..." he says almost shyly. The man is nearly twenty-five years old but he sounds and looks like a guilty child with his lips pulled out in a pout and his eyes glancing nervously at your face to see if you weren't going to yell at him. "I, uh... didn't write the Yelp review."

How can you stay mad at that?

"And I wrote you an apology..."

You walk closer to your boyfriend and hug him. "Thank you..."

"Yeah," he says. "And good news, the cake will be really flavorful compared to what you had for dinner."

You smile. "Good thinking."

After a storm, there is always a rainbow. When there is a down, there is an up. And vice versa.

"Can we please stop planning every single fucking second of our lives?" Yoongi says exasperatedly. He flings away the brochure you had handed him that detailed the week's trip to Hawaii down to the last minute. "We're going on vacation. This makes me feel like I'm going to a stupid summer camp."

"If we're going to Hawaii, we shouldn't just relax around in the hotel all day, Yoongi," you scoff, gathering the abandoned brochure and tugging it to your chest. "There's stuff to see on the islands. We need to try everything my friends did! Why would we even go to Hawaii if we're not going to do these fun activities?"

"Come on. 7 o'clock breakfast? 8 o'clock hiking up to the falls? 10 o'clock scuba diving in the ocean? 12 o'clock lunch at the top of a big ass hill that we have to climb up ourselves? 1 o'clock zip-lining meters in the air? 2 o'clock festival? I could go on, but isn't that too much? When can we breathe?" Yoongi shakes his head. "No way. And all of that's just in one day. And the second day is even worse. Y/N, I want to go there to rest."

"If you wanted to rest, then you can do it at home," you argue. "Why go to Hawaii to rest?"

"There are different types of resting," Yoongi sighs. "What's a better way to fall asleep than in front of the ocean? We get to relax in a hotel, which means we won't have to make our beds or cook our meals or even do the dishes. That's relaxing for me."

"Well, it's not relaxing enough for me."

"Come on, Y/N. We went to Banff and you planned every single second of the trip there. I thought it was miserable. Can we please relax just once? For literally one trip?"

"But I already booked everything..."

Yoongi curses. "Why are you always four steps ahead of everything? It's unnecessary!"

"Maybe I'm not four steps ahead and you're just four steps behind!"

"Oh, so you're telling me that everyone else in the world plans their days down to the last second." Yoongi rolls his eyes. "Bullshit, Y/N."

"It's not my fault you're so—so, fucking lazy!"

"I'm not lazy!" Yoongi's eyes flash as he slams the dinner table. "You're just too high maintenance! Fucking nobody can keep up with you!" Before you can react or even yell back, he pushes his chair away and stands up, stomping away in a fury. You can hear him enter his study. There's that familiar door slam again. And the click of the lock means you won't be getting in that room anytime soon.

You're left by yourself, clutching the Hawaii brochure to your chest. A little angry at yourself but a lot madder at your boyfriend. With a bitter scream, you toss the brochure in the trash and curl up in a ball at the side of the couch.

But the thing about you and Yoongi is that with time and space, you recognize each other's perspectives. The rest is history.

Three hours just crying out your pent-up anger gets the irritation out of your system. By the time you're done though, you're a little hungry and guilty. You make a few phone calls and switch things around.

"Hey." You knock on the door of Yoongi's study. You're too afraid to turn the knob yourself. "I know you're in there."

No answer.

"I canceled the excessive activities..." you whisper against the door. "We can plan the trip together... I mean, better yet, we don't even have to plan anything at all... We can be..."—it pains you to say but—"spontaneous."

"Go away. I'm trying to work."

Sometimes Yoongi takes a bit longer than you to come around.

But by dinnertime, he's crept out of his study and has already ordered takeout from your favorite restaurant. The steaming pile of white rice and perfect side dishes lie on the dinner table, waiting for you. He waits for you too.

"I got a new client," he says, looking down at his hands. "And I got your favorite food." You notice that he's holding the Hawaii brochure you'd thrown away. It's a little wet on the sides. Maybe because Yoongi had to wipe off the remnants of the leftovers in the trash that had stuck onto the paper. Your boyfriend finally looks up at you. Shyly. Almost cautiously. "Wanna compromise?"

"Compromise?"

"We plan half of the trip and wing the rest of it," he offers. Yoongi slides you the brochure. "See, so I was thinking..."

You've always hated roller coasters. They are almost always unpredictable with head-jerking twists and turns that bring you closer to vomiting the contents of your stomach rather than pure bliss. There are one too many ups and downs.

Yoongi likes to joke that your relationship with him is a roller coaster. Only because there are too many dips that rocket up to the sky only to plummet down again. You disagree. Because, eventually, no matter how shitty the ride is, roller coasters do end. Your relationship with Yoongi is not over.

You like to compare your relationship with Yoongi like the ocean waves. But during a tsunami. The ups are great; the towering waves give you a beautiful vantage point. And it's all fun and games until the waves crash down on everything you once loved, destroying them. And the process repeats so much that in the end, there is nothing left.

That's what you feel now. Empty.

Alone in the bed with Yoongi downstairs and nowhere to be seen near you.

After a while, even the highs of the relationship makes you feel numb. The lows wreck you past your breaking point. It takes more time to find resolutions—the fights go on for longer than days, even weeks.

When you were younger, fighting with Yoongi was irritating at most. Now, they leave you sobbing and drinking alone in the corner of the bathroom. But it's so late in the game.

You've known Yoongi for over eighteen years of your life, since kindergarten. You keep telling yourself that he's the only one in the world who could understand you; and you're the only one in the world who can understand him. But other than that, you can't find another reason why you're with him.

Sometimes, you listen back to the mixtape he made you years ago. The lyrics don't apply to you now. And this year, for your birthday, he half-assed a letter for you last-minutely because he was 'busy.' Busy drinking with his friends the night before. You've stopped planning your dates for months.

Actually, when was the last time you went on a date with him?

You can't recall.

Maybe the back and forth arguing you and Yoongi had gone through in the majority of your relationship was a sign—a bad sign. If only you hadn't met him on the seesaw that day. Then maybe none of this would've happened.

You might be dating someone you have things in common with. Maybe someone you don't argue with as much.

Falling asleep with tears in your eyes that keep the pillow wet until morning is an occurrence that you're too familiar with. It is an occurrence you want to stop. When Yoongi isn't downstairs by morning, you're thrown into further misery. He usually works from home... He must be really angry to leave without saying anything.

You eat breakfast by yourself. Lunch consists of ramen. And dinner... Yoongi's still not home so you skip the meal altogether.

By 9 p.m., you look at your phone. You don't want to be the first person to break—the first person to apologize—but you worry. Will he hang up on you? Tell you to go away? The possibilities seem endless.

So much thinking hurts your head. Some fresh air might do the trick. Before you know it, you're wandering around a familiar rusty playground again. It brings back childhood memories. When your hand trails across the paint-chipped monkey bars, you're brought back to when you were only six years old. The towering obstacle had looked so big when you were little. Now, you could easily cross the bars by simply walking.

It's strange to see the once-bustling playground be completely empty and in the dark. You hear that they're going to tear down this place to construct a little convenience store so no one must've visited this playground in a very long time. You'll miss it when it's gone. You had a lot of fun around here.

Just as that thought passes through your head, your eye catches sight of the seesaw.

Ah, the start of everything.

Slowly, you walk towards it. Each step makes your feet sink further in the smoothed over gravel but you manage to sit at the very edge of the seesaw. Immediately, the other side flings up in the air. It reminds you of when you flung Yoongi in the air. A pretty funny memory. But not right now. Thinking about Yoongi now hurts.

You hate it when you start to contemplate the worst-case scenario. A breakup. Moving out. Stress. Tears.

You run your fingers across the rusty handle of the seesaw. Hopefully, things don't come to that. But how much longer can you handle the arguments? They seem to be elongating as time passes. What if one day, the argument lasts a month? Several months? A year?

If there is one thing in your life that you strive to achieve, it's predictability. With Yoongi, there is none of that. He makes last-minute plans out of nowhere and doesn't tell you until the last second. Then you have to go on a frenzy to reschedule everything. It is a cycle that you've become sick of. And he's sick of you planning everything.

That has been the issue of the last ten fights.

The same issue.

And it's unfixable.

You and Yoongi are rock bottom on the very floor of the Mariana Trench. The back and forth game of banter has turned into something more serious, and it just isn't as light-hearted and funny anymore.

"Hey."

You nearly fall off the seesaw at the sound of Yoongi's voice. He's got his hands shoved in his pockets and he looks like he was awake for more than 24 hours.

"H-Hey," you say.

"The seesaw, huh?"

"Yeah." You nod. "The seesaw."

Yoongi smiles but it's not a very happy one. Even now, you don't think either one of you wants to apologize for the fight.

"I've been thinking," Yoongi sighs. He doesn't spare you another glance before he sits on the other side of the seesaw. You're suddenly jerked up in the air. There used to be a balance but it seems like Yoongi's gained some weight—or you've lost a lot. "Remember when I said our relationship is like a rollercoaster?"

"And I said I disagreed."

"Right." Yoongi sighs. "I take that back. We're not like a rollercoaster. We're in a game."

"A game?"

Yoongi gestures at the seesaw. "This is our game."

"...The seesaw?" You raise an eyebrow at the man but Yoongi doesn't budge.

"Yes. Look." Yoongi pushes off the gravel with his feet, putting himself in the air while sinking you to the ground. "And when you push..." Following his words, you launch yourself back in the air. Yoongi looks up at you as he sighs. "We're always on opposite sides, opposite places."

"Even when we try to balance," he continues, trying to lift his body to bring you down to the same level as him, "we fail." He ends up higher than you now and you look up at him.

"Some game this is..." you mutter.

"It's a game of ups and downs," Yoongi tells you. "It's tiring, isn't it?"

"Of course it is."

"And like all games... there is an end."

You raise both eyebrows. "Oh."

"From day one, you know... we weren't really supposed to get along," Yoongi says. "But somehow seeing each other every day, bickering with each other... all of that let us be in closer proximity with each other. And then we thought we were meant to be."

"You're analyzing our relationship?" you scoff.

"Don't act like you haven't done the same, Y/N."

You're silent.

"It doesn't matter whether we love each other at this point, Y/N... Does it? Love or not, I don't think I can live like this."

It's ridiculous. You're having a grown-up discussion possibly leading to a breakup on a fucking seesaw of all places.

"You want to separate?" Your voice comes out smaller than you expected. When it becomes a reality, it's much harder to digest.

"You've been thinking about it too, right?" Yoongi sighs. "I mean, I heard you call your mom the other day. And it didn't sound too good."

Guilty. "Well, yeah, I've been thinking about it... Just... I just didn't think it'd become a reality so soon." And you always thought you would have initiated the breakup, not the other way around.

"Yeah... I felt bad you always took initiative with things so I decided to save you the stress and do it myself."

"Wow. Thanks." You shake your head. "Real thoughtful."

"Right?" Yoongi grins. "I don't think a lot will change if we break up. We've always hated each other a little."

You let out a wry laugh. "I'll never forgive you for calling me fat."

"And I'll never forgive you for calling me stupid."

"Looks like we're even."

"Yeah, for once." Yoongi shrugs. "I guess we can be platonic roommates until I find another apartment."

"Sounds good to me." You ignore the tears welling up in your eyes as you try to smile. "Let's get off this seesaw to seal the deal then."

"The end of the game." Yoongi's voice shakes just enough for you to know he's crying.

And as the two of you walk back to your shared apartment with tears streaming down your faces, you realize you wouldn't have it any other way. A breakup any later would be regretful—even wasteful of time. A breakup any earlier would've left you to separate forever. A breakup now is perfect.

You're acquainted enough to still possibly be friends. But not bound by marriage to make the procedure worse and more complicated.

Of course, you love Yoongi. But sometimes, you love the wrong people—the people you don't belong with, the people who won't make you happy. You're just glad you didn't run away in the beginning. Yoongi taught you a difficult rivalry, a difficult friendship, a difficult relationship. But you don't always have to go the hard way.

When a relationship becomes like a game—repetitive with the addition of wins and losses—that's when you know you can stop.

You'll be on the easy route now and find someone who is as crazy about planning as you.

You look up at Yoongi. His cheeks are wet with tears but he doesn't necessarily look sad. Instead, he looks hopeful. Like he'll find somebody who can appreciate his love for leaving sarcastic Yelp reviews or somebody who loves spontaneity as much as he does.

And when he finds that special somebody, you'll be happy for Yoongi. But, of course, not before you tease the living shit out of him first.

—masterpost

—masterlist

#ficswithluv #btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts #bts fanfiction #propinquity #okay let's pretend i totally posted this fic last friday #like halfway thru this week #i remembered i never posted on friday omg clown #🤡🤡 i don't even think i've been on social media #school rlly said no❤️

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shinobirain24 · 4 years ago

Text

Iceberg Week 2021: Day 2 (July7)- Romeo and Juliet AU Pt. 1

Note: This fanfic is actually going to be a modern version of Romeo and Juliet. Where Weiss is the mafia's daughter and Neptune is the son of a police captain. I know it wasn't the best, but I would like to release it to share with you fellow viewers. Sorry for the late submission. I thought I should cut it into two parts

By wolfstyle2074

"Two Households, both alike and in dignity. When the differences have settled in cold blood. Love cannot be killed. The story of two young lovers seek out a way to escape with their lives when first sight came to light. Between law and crime, it was always conflict, questions of the choices we make in the war of blood..."

"Uh, Ren. Can we repeated that please? The background is getting sizzled?" Nora, a ginger-haired girl holding the camera, then interrupted as Ren, a raven-haired boy is speaking with a microphone in his hands. He is a reporter for a boarding school writing a story about two runaways fighting for their lives. "Um, Nora, are you okay?"

He asked. Seeing Nora wiping the tears off his eyes. Hearing the story kinda got her emotional. "Yeah, I just wished they'd be here to appreciate how you write this story."

"Don't worry, Nora. Neither of them will be forgotten. I am sure they will appreciate what you did to remember them." Ren said. Walking towards Nora and patted her on the head to cheer her up. "Wanna get some ice cream on the way out? I am sure it will make you feels better." Ren asked. Nora then rose her head up from the camera and smiled and nodded to the suggestion. "Yeah, I am sure it's fine. This is our last year in the Academy, sooner or later we will graduate." Nora said.

"You have read my mind, Nora." Ren said walking out together with Nora out of the school building. "Two years, and it was the story that made headlines that involves forbidden love between law and crime."

"Something tells me you will make a great novelist." Nora encouraged. The school bell rings. The one bell that rings from one transition to another, the sound that will haunt the students forever.

-2 years ago-

Captain Saturn Vasilias of the New York Police Force was in his cab to his destination for the assignment he was in. "10-2, we got a cartel in the dust facility, Ever Dust Inc., five males, two females on the road." One line have said from the radio. Saturn then picks up and speaks through the mic. "10-2 unit 6, close all the roads and don't let them escape." Saturn responded.

After driving at full speed, knowing he might have much time to prevent the crime of robbery in the dust facility and caught up with two cargo tricks in front of the entrance. The bombing was non-stop. The Schnee Family were a known crime family that illegally sells dust for weapons, their empire grew large since then. Saturn has been researching about them for years, but none of the family members has been caught. However, one of them, a young woman has been reporting about them and giving them tips since then, our of fear for the safety of her younger younger siblings, and would suffer the same fate. The woman then became an undercover informant.

Saturn then got off his cab, and takes out a megaphone as he spoke to an old man, who is in his 50s or 60s, wearing a casual suit, which is the sign of him being a ringleader of the cartel. "Jacques Schnee, you are under arrest for the robbery and numerous murders!" Saturn announced.

"Your father before you was a fool to think you could win this round!" Jacques retorts after ordering his men to raise their guns and pointed at him. "You never learn, haven't you, cold-blooded man?!"

Saturn's son, Jupiter has been behind his father this whole time and also pointed his sniper gun at him, mostly the main boss are the main targets. "Jupiter, you cannot draw weapons at him, you'll be charged with firearms! And you don't have a permit for that!" Saturn scolded him. "Relax, dad. Mom taught me a lot. Plus, this is the first time we have a father-son day in your fight." Jupiter remarks. But Saturn wasn't pleased. "Get ready, old man! Either you and your buddies come quietly and peacefully, or you'll regret it!" Jupiter warned.

"Peace? Peace is the very word I hate, as I hate all Vasilias'! Come at me then! Winter!" Jacques stated as he gave a hand signal to his men for gunfire. And called out his daughter, Winter to lead the gunfire. She came out and gave a signal to fire. Saturn and Jupiter hid behind the left side of the cab as the bullets created holes from a right side of the door. Jupiter then came out of hiding and shot back.

Jacques hid in his cargo for his own safety. And Saturn shots back at his arch-enemy. "Blasted Schnees, they don't know when to quit." Jupiter scoffed. Kept firing one after the other. Later, after a scuffle, Jacques got away in his own cargo. But the rest of his men have been caught, and some of the stolen dust has been recovered, but the rest were stolen.

Lydia, Saturn's wife, and Jupiter's mother, and a lawyer, cleaned some of the wounds they received from gunshots. Luckily they survived. But knowing her, she feared for her family's wellbeing and would scold them for getting too reckless. "Honestly, Saturn. You have enough damages for one day! And you, Jupiter, try not to get in the way for your father's patrol the next time."

"Sorry, Mom." Said Jupiter, crossing his arms.

"Sorry, honey. I'll make it up to you by making dinner tonight." He winces a little as Lydia puts rubbing alcohol on his bleeding shoulder. "Ah!" He hissed. "I am just glad Neptune wasn't here to witness this, it would've been traumatizing for him. Knowing how sensitive he was."

"I hope so too. Good thing our dear boy is at home minding his business." Lydia breathes in relief to know that her son is safe at home, or so she thought.

Later that afternoon, Neptune is in his bedroom doing his homework. Having headphones covering his ears with the music in his head. Then a knock on his window. It was a blonde-haired young man his age. Neptune then hears the knock and walks over to the window for a greeting. And opens the window. "Dude!" Neptune greets, and Sun jumps into the bedroom and gave him a handshake. "It's been a while."

"How've you been?" Asked Neptune. Sun then break away and gave him some stolen IDs with photos of him and Neptune. With different names that were related to crime empires. For Neptune, it's Kaman Aquors, and for Sun, it's Solar Reign. "What's with the fake IDs?" Asked Neptune. Sun smirked proudly as he thought of a great idea, or in Neptune's case, a bad idea. "Duh, I heard the Schnees are having a secret meeting for an auction. Where the stinking rich gathered around to buy stolen dust."

"Dude, no. I said it once, and I will say it again. No way. I cannot sneak out there and go to this auction. Dad will worry, and Mom, she'll be grounding me for a year if I ever go. I don't like how things were going as much as you do, but this is a bad idea." Neptune objects.

"Come on, Dude think of it as an undercover assignment. Think about it, once we have evidence to where Jacques Schnee is hiding, it will be the end of his empire. And plus, your dad will be so psyched, he will wanna make you part of his squad." Neptune then thought about it, his father has been stressing out for years fighting against the Schnees for their dangerous methods of running the business.

It worried him one bit as he saw his father feeling fatigued, coming home with wounds. Neptune then proceeds to think about the idea. Although it might get them into trouble, but it would give them the advantage for him to finally convince Saturn to rest up a bit. Neptune has no other choice but to accept the invitation. "Alright, if we're going to do this, we need a disguise. Knowing the Schnees, they would probably be after my family for being law enforcement."

"Alright! I knew you come around!" They high-fived. Later, Lydia came into her son's bedroom with dinner on the tray. "Sweetie, sorry your father and I are-Ah!" Lydia dropped her tray and it scattered into bits of vegetables and sushi. And saw that her son is gone and the window opened. "Oh my god! Saturn, he ran out again!" This is not the first time her sons have snuck out the bedroom window.

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

Weiss, the heiress to the Schnee has arrived to her room to get ready to meet her mother. Since she came back from a business trip. "More tea, Miss Schnee?" Asked her butler, Klein who have been close to her since she was young. The only family member she had been interacting with is with her elder sister. "Your sister had returned from her business trip."

"Thank you Klein. You know, it's funny. Living in a private island with no one but your family. This is absolutely isolation for the matter. Father had some shady dealings. Mother appoints lawyers in cases of my father on trial. While my brother wasn't around, just with my father. "Well, it's natural to be alone sometimes, my dear. But at the same time, it wasn't okay. Hopefully your mother will get the time off and you can have a bond with her."

"Good idea. But in the meantime, I have to think about what to do for the rest of the day." Then Weiss hears footsteps. It was her elder sister, Winter. The main heir to the Schnee Mafia. Although neither of the sisters agree to this. They acted like they were used to this. Winter came back in a sweet after finishing tipping off the police. Without their father knowing it. "One more thing there and done." Winter sighs in relief.

Weiss is happy to see her sister appear in her room. "Winter!" Said Weiss. As she ran and embrace her sister once more. "How are you today my sister?" Winter said. Weiss broke away. "Not so bad." Weiss replied. "Welcome home, Miss Schnee. How are your shifts with your father?" Klein curtsied. But Winter said, "Klein, there's no need for you to address me. But it's good to see you too." Winter assured. Winter hates the life she is living right now and wants her father out of the picture to provide the freedom for her siblings.

"Did you know that Mother will be arriving soon?" Asked Weiss. But Winter was adamant and never wants to speak about their mother. But reluctantly, she had to keep her sister at Bay to not be down on suspicion. "Yes, I have heard. But for who knows how long." Winter responded. But their mother appeared before her. "I am right here you know." Sighed their mother.

"An evening with you, Mother." Sighed their mother, Willow. Willow walks over to Weiss, who she has been expecting to appear before her. With Winter ignored a bit. But to her relief. "To what will do I owe you, Mother?" Asked Weiss.

"I age forgotten that you are reaching adulthood at this time, darling." Said Willow. "Still, you look very lovely."

"Ah, yes. Weiss has been growing up with her studies and was ready to apply for a university at this age. But at the same time, she-"

"I know this is too much to ask, Weiss. But have you ever thought of marriage?" Weiss was a bit stunned for a moment. Never she thought her parents would ask of this. But was aware her mother had been arranged to marry her father at Weiss' age. "Not exactly, Mother. I haven't thought of that. Anything you want to add?"

"Oh, for goodness sake, Mother. Marriage? I thought we were over this. Weiss is young and you can't just arrange someone to marry her. That's objectifying her." Winter argued in her sister's defense. Knowing that it was a ludicrous solution.

"Your father has been running out of men for the run-ins at some point. Therefore we need to combine our empires. And your father has already picked out the best suitor for your sister." Willow argued back. And Winter can tell in the eyes of her mother that she is just too much into pleasing her husband. "The auctions start tomorrow and the selection, Henry Marigold will be there to seek her out. His father will be the solution to our problems." Said Willow.

"Um, Mother. I don't know about this. Maybe Winter is right. Never met him. And he probably won't like me anyway." Weiss took Winter's side, unsure if she should take the opportunity of pleasing, or the opportunity of arrangement. But then again, she has not seen either of her parents, or her younger brother. "I have not yet met this person. But since this might be the option to get out the manor, even for a moment. This might be her chance. "If it means it will help our family, then I will see to it. Give me time to get to know this person." Weiss said. And Willow clasped her hands in joy. "Splendid, starting tomorrow, we will get you ready." Willow gestures Klein to follow, leaving Weiss and Winter alone in the same room. Winter shook her head in disapproval.

"Weiss are you sure about this. Think about it. You can't have this. What about your dreams of university? You can't throw that away. What if this person was a tyrant?" Winter asked, unsure how is her sister going to deal with this. Normally Winter would defend her to keep her out of harm's way. Informing police in secret in hopes she would put her father in jail. But the thought of her sister in exploitation is the horror she wished she wouldn't have to hear. If two empires merged by union would mean bigger chaos with crime all over. And it would lead to square one. Another thing she has to report.

"I don't know, but no matter what, I'll have to keep and eye on things, just to be safe." Said Winter, this could be a chance to expose some darker secrets.

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Neptune and Sun have entered the auction without fail. Using the fake IDs with the names of the previous rich men Sun had stolen from before he arrived in New York. Wearing tuxes and mask to keep themselves covered. To not blow their cover.

The private island of Schnee was no problem to find. Since Neptune had been hacking in computers all his life, he has no issue to find the transmission networks of the island. Most of the time the wealth has been building private islands for isolated reasons, and they have the most secured equipment. "Must've taken a lot of money to build this place." Said Sun.

Neptune looks around while seeing people in dresses and tuxes, masks and jewelry. Chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. Portraits of Jacques in a series of timelines. What a show-off. Only a few portraits of him and his family. Tables with such beautiful silver cloths. "Tell me about it, sooner we take the photos, the sooner we get out of here. Here, every day the auctions were illegally run by the Schnee Mafia. Empires gathered to buy the most expensive loads of dust and weaponry." Neptune replied.

"I'll see if they got any contracts that are related to this. We need a list of surnames just to be sure." Said Sun. Neptune nods, "Good idea, I'll talk to some guests, see what they know. I'll also record anything on the way." Suggested Neptune. Sun then pats him on the shoulder for some luck for him. And left his side to go upstairs. Neptune came to look around for some whispering crowds. But someone who came across him when his eyes got caught, distracting him.

A young, white-haired woman his age wearing a dark blue dress, and silver necklace. A mask matching her dress with teal gems attached. The woman looked at him and gave him a smile. Neptune cannot make out for what he was feeling, as if a fever began to make his heart pound in his chest. But then the gaze was interrupted when a dark blue-haired young man, whose hair was combed to the side approached her before him. "Are you Weiss, how do you do?" Asked the man.

"Henry Marigold, I presumed?" Weiss asked. Henry then smiled and lend her his hand. "Indeed I am, I hope you can do me the offer in this dance."

"Of course." Sighed Weiss. Neptune is left disappointed at he was beaten to it. But decides to wait for the right moment to see what Weiss knows about the empire. While Weiss wants this to end, growing exhausted that Henry talks about himself and never asked Weiss of what she likes, or what hobbies. Finally, she has enough, and Weiss excused herself for some fresh air. Neptune takes this chance to approach her. "Evening Miss. How is tonight?" Asked Neptune.

Weiss rolled her eyes and thought she was about to get a round of boredom. Things did not go as planned. "Terrible, I thought tonight would go so well, but I felt like nothing, as if everything died down a bit." Weiss replied. Then Neptune offers her his hand. Weiss looks a bit surprised. "I hope you don't mind if I offer you this dance. If that's okay with you?" Neptune asked. He was a terrible dancer, if he can mimic the moves by watching the crowd of dancers, then he could pull this off. Weiss is a bit shocked, but felt flattered that a man asked if she would like to dance. His eyes captivated her in his gaze. The charming smile he drew on his face.

"Actually, I would love that." Weiss replies and takes his hand, and was pulled into the dancefloor. Trying his best to watch his steps while seeing how the others dance their hearts out. Weiss then gazed into his eyes. Meanwhile, a security guard whispered into Weiss' younger brother, Whitley's ear, and was shocked to see who was on the dancefloor with his older sister. "There's a dog scorching on the House of Schnee? No, absolutely not. By the length and honor of my kin, I shall take this by my own hand." Whitley was about to make a scene to expose Neptune, until he was stopped by his father. "Ah, son! It's a pleasure to see you're enjoying this party!"

"Father, don't you see who that was? That commoner is nothing more than that son of the cop who's been chasing you for years." Whispered Whitley. But Jacques refrains him from taking action. "Look as long as we don't create a scene. If we have blood drenched on our hands, we would be hunted down by his father. So just do me a favor and keep it down. I'll sent someone to take care of him by the morning." Said Jacques, then Whitley unwillingly complied and left without a word, defeated. But not before giving Neptune (who did not notice and whispers into Weiss' ear, as she giggles) a dirty look and then turned his head and went to his bedroom.

Then Weiss is escorted into the courtyard by Neptune to have a moment alone with him. "So, you don't see much of what went all in those kind of parties?" Asked Neptune as he sat near the fountain near Weiss. "Most of the time, I would stay in my mansion, the only times I went outside the island is when I have classes to attend. I always dreamed of going to university. But with my parents having different plans for me, I am not sure if that's happening any time soon."

"Really? I always wanted to study at a university too. When I was a kid, I always wanted to study in NYU." Neptune blushed as he looked at her once more. The more they chat, the more enchanting the night has become. Neptune seemed to forget for why he was here. Something about the girl he was staring at seemed familiar to him, but this is the first time they have met. "The last thing I wanted was a life of success and a bit of freedom, even if that freedom cannot last. I never saw my parents often, nor my brother when they're busy on the line of work. Surely I knew those kind of things were illegal. But how am I supposed to argue with that? Of course, I wasn't allow off this island to know more." Weiss sighs.

"I'm sorry, I guess it wasn't fair that you've been living here all your life. But hey, look on the bright side. How was this night now?" Asked Neptune. Weiss then blushed and giggled. "I guess it's okay, for now. Maybe tonight wasn't so bad when you came along. Something tells me you weren't from around here." Weiss questioned. Not sure if it's another one of those suitors her father had sent, but she didn't mind since he seemed to approach her sincerely.

"Oh, yeah. I was sent here. Just for inspection. It was getting boring to me, but meeting you, it got less boring." Neptune replied. Soon, neither of them realized they are getting closer and drew their faces nearer, and their lips touched to one another. Weiss caressed his cheek as they have kissed for a few minutes. It was like fireworks exploded in their hearts. But it was interrupted when Winter showed up in front of him. "Sister, what was the meaning of this?!" Confronted Winter.

Weiss and Neptune broke away. Weiss tried to find a way to make excuses. Although Winter does not mind letting her sister having a great time. But at the same time, she knew she have to pull her away to not let her face her father's wrath. "Come, Father is expecting you." Winter grabs her hand and pulls her away. Neptune follows and saw that Winter has escorted Weiss to her father, his father's arch-enemy, Jacques Schnee. Winter then whispers something to her ear. "I must warn you, his name is Neptune, and he is a Vasilias." Weiss is in shock and looks at Neptune with despair. Feeling she was tricked by a boy who enchanted her in this party. At least Winter did not tell her father about the kiss. Neptune was about to leave, but not before seeing Weiss smiling at him, a sign that they will meet again. Neptune still couldn't believe she was a Schnee, but he was happy to have met her. Sun then approaches him. "Hey man, where have you been?"

"Um..." Before Neptune can say anything, Sun smirked at the side of him he has been seeing. He could tell Neptune has been lovestruck. "Oh, I see what was going on here." He sang. "You've been infatuated." Neptune jolts at the state of blushing. Then waved his hand in defense. "No no no! That can't be true! I was just lost that's all."

"Really, I won't tell your dad. Just tell me about that girl you've been swooning with." Sun asked. Neptune wasn't sure how to describe to him. He would be a bit shocked to find out it was a Schnee he was dancing with. "How am I going to put with this. Okay, just keep calm when I say this. But the girl I was dancing with, she was a Schnee." Sun's eyes have bungled at a state of shock. Then shook his head and tries to set the record straight. "Dude, she is way out of your league, did you forget that her dad is a criminal, deadly mastermind?" Sun reminds him, but Neptune huffed in response. But manages to change the subject. "Dude, let's just get back to that later, right now we have to get out of here. Trying to get answers from her and she never knew much. But you can tell she has been living on this island too much. And her dad would've probably sent the guards by morning.

"Fine, you and I need a serious talk when we head back to New York." Sun sighs. One night, they were hiding somewhere in the jungle where the manor took place. Even if the trees are fake. Neptune then snuck into the gardens of the Schnee Manor to see Weiss standing on the balcony of her room. "The glimpse of her in front of the moon can't be more beautiful than the moon at sight. Her eyes matches the icy waters. And Weiss is the moon in the sight of my eyes."

"Oh Neptune, Neptune..." Weiss said as she thought of that name after the party after it grew quiet as the guests left. "She speaks." He said quietly. "Wherefore art thou my Neptune? Deny my father and refuse my name. For what is a name if thou wilt be? But be sworn my love and I won't be a Schnee."

"I defy my name too!" Neptune shouted as Weiss jolted in shock to see him below the balcony. "Goodness!" Weiss gasped in shock. She never expected him to meet her again. But worries what her father will do. "Neptune, what are you doing here? If Father finds out you're still here, he will kill you." Weiss whispered in a harsh tone. But Neptune uses a pillar to climb onto the balcony to speak with her.

"I know, but as a son of a cop. Unlike your father, my dad is more of an overprotective type. I knew you are form this family. But it doesn't matter, I just want to get to know you more. Therefore I also defy my name and would be preferred to be called by my first name." Neptune explains.

"For years both the Schnee and the Vasilias have been at war with one another and they were still at war now. It came to the point where I knew I cannot see you. But I want to know you as well. My father has been committing crimes I wished I should've stopped. There was nothing I can do. It was a never-ending bloodshed." Weiss adds, turning away for a bit. As Neptune listens.

"Last thing I wanted was this war to end. Although you are a Schnee, I don't see you as one, just a woman with culture and personality." He then lift her chin, gently as he follows. "So, maybe we can meet in New York, I know I can't stay here and get caught. I can take you anywhere you want. Just say the word and I'll do it."

"I would love that. But knowing my father, I will always get surrounded by security. Or in some cases, my sister, since she was older than me."

"Maybe I can come up with the sneakiest plan for us to escape security and we can hang out a bit more. Without both our parents' knowing." Neptune suggested.

Weiss has been thinking about it, she cannot stand being in the crowd of security. She knew her parents would forbid her from seeing him because he has Vasilias blood in his veins. But there was a side of him no one has ever seen. "Perhaps I will think about it. see if we can meet. I will give word to my sister. After all, maybe she can help with that." Said Weiss. Knowing her sister will be staying for a few weeks. Neptune then smiled as a response as they leaned in closer and kissed again. "Weiss! Where are you?!" Winter called. Once again, they break away from each other and Weiss knew she has to get back inside. "Coming, Winter!" Weiss called back. Then push Neptune away to get him to hide. "Quick, hide! Before security comes!" Weiss urges him until he fell off the balcony and landed on the bushes in the garden. "I'm okay!" Said Neptune.

The next day, Neptune returned home, only to find his parents waiting for him in the living room of his house. "Where have you've been, Neptune?! Do you have any idea how worried sick your mother has been?!" Scolded Saturn, he was not one to be harsh on his children, but never took his youngest for being a rebellious type. "Oh, hey dad. Sorry I am late, I was just out for a walk..." He said, nervously. But Saturn was a bit suspicious. "The thing is, I got bored and I couldn't help but feel a bit dizzy in my own home and thought I could get some fresh air. I didn't realized it was late and my phone has died." Neptune lied.

Saturn then approaches his son. And then places his hand on hos father's shoulder and sighs. "I am sorry, son. It wasn't fair for you to be kept in the house all day. We are worried for you, that's all." Saturn apologized.

"Are you sure you're not lying, bro?" Asked Jupiter, suspicious about his brother's whereabouts before he came back. He saw red in his face. It was a sign he was lying at some point. The last time Jupiter snuck out, his little brother was too honest enough to snitch on his brother.

"Just don't do it again. Next time just tell us, okay sweetie?" Asked Lydia. They were just going to let this slide and let this go, being the caring parents they are. Lydia then walks over to her husband and son and embraced them. Jupiter decides to let this go this time. But thought that the next time Neptune snuck out, he would have to follow him to see what he was doing.

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On the weekdays, Weiss and Neptune would have to escape security with the excuses of school activities after school. Only to sneak out of the school building and go on dates. First, Neptune has been taking her out to the movies on her request. Seeing a romantic movie about Titanic. How an upper-class woman has been forced into an arranged marriage, only to fall in love with a lower-class man who saw her as a person.

"Even with those differences, they found each other." Weiss teared up as she saw the ending as the love of the main protagonist's life has died from hyperthermia. Neptune wrapped his arms around her to comfort her. Weiss felt better after the ending. Unbeknownst to them, a curious ginger-haired girl takes a picture without a flash of light. They heard a click, but saw nothing as the young photographer hid from them.

Another day past and they were at a mall. But wrong move, Jacques' security team arrived to search for Weiss, but they hid in another shopping center, where they bribed the manager to help them escape. After they exit the building using an emergency exit, Neptune and Weiss laughed a bit. Thinking how awkward this say went.

The next day, they were at a park while avoiding some eyes that might see them. Suddenly, some classmates they never recognized in their school approached them and asked them to take a photo for the school yearbook. "Can we take a photo of you guys?" Asked a raven-haired boy. They gladly accepted and Weiss and Neptune posed together. Not thinking twice before, cause they were having too much of a great time. Then Neptune spotted his brother looking for him. He then yanks Weiss with him and ran off before Jupiter could see them.

The next date, Neptune has to sneak out of his house. But not before his older brother notice and decides to follow him. Neptune has taken Weiss to a cafe, where she can try some latte, something her father would not allow her too. "I don't know, I wasn't allow to have some caffeine." Weiss said with hesitance. But Neptune insisted to make her feel good about being outside of the island and some relief from isolation. "Come on, one taste cannot hurt."

Weiss took one sip of the straw and felt the flavors on her tongue. And felt the cool but tasty features of the latte. "Oh, that was blistering, but sweet. What else can you show me? I cannot believe we hadn't been caught yet." Weiss giggled.

"I cannot believe it either." That is, until a voice interrupted them. "A-ha! I knew you were lying this whole time, Neptune." They then turned to see Jupiter standing before them. He is not happy to see him with Weiss, knowing she was a Schnee and he hates the family that committed the crimes against his. And seeing him with the daughter of the Schnee family made him furious. "Neptune, who is this? He looks like my sister's age." Asked Weiss as Neptune stood in front of Weiss to prevent Jupiter form doing anything to her. As he approaches his brother. "What were you thinking, she is a Schnee for crying out loud! Her family are criminals and they hunted down our family for years!" Jupiter shouted as they crowd from different tables are watching. "Jupiter, I can explain!" Neptune defended. But Jupiter grabs his wrist, tightly. "Home, now." Jupiter hissed.

"Gee, do you have to be this scary?" Neptune flinched. Then Jupiter turned to Weiss in pure anger. "And you, tell your sister to meet me in Times Square. And stay away from my brother, or else..." Weiss looked at him in shock as his face grew a bit frightening. Neptune then looked at her with sadness. "I'm sorry, Weiss." Neptune apologized, before being dragged away from her and then back home. At least Jupiter is not going to tell their parents about the relationship. But decided to keep Neptune watched 24/7. To not let the daughter of the criminals see him again, fearing she will use him for their father's information.

After two weeks, Neptune received a text from Weiss. Telling him they need to talk and to meet him at Central Park. Neptune manages to block the cameras hidden beneath the walls meant to keep an eye on him. Jupiter has no idea what hit him. Then jumps out of the window again. Ran in to Weiss at the Central Park.

"Hey, Snow Angel. What's up?" Before Neptune can ask a bit more. Weiss started to tear up. "I'm sorry, I cannot see you anymore, Neptune." Weiss wipes her tears from her eyes. "It was a mistake, I never should've met you." Neptune is appalled to hear that she won't be seeing him anymore as he thought he did something wrong to make things worse. "What do you mean, did I do something wrong. Please, Weiss. I want to know what I did wrong." Neptune pleaded, wanting to comfort her and console her. As he gets closer to her, she pushes him away.

"The truth is, I am getting married." Neptune thought his ears were playing tricks when Weiss mentions she was getting married. "My father planned this from the start, he knew you were at the party that night. And the fact that you were the son of a cop, he was furious. He told me he knew about our dates. And if I don't go with the plan of marrying the son of another mafia, he would kill your father and you." Weiss explains. Neptune is shocked. He never knew her father would gone too far.

"Weiss." Neptune then wrapped her arms around her. But Weiss wants to protest this. But her feelings of warmth from him are too strong and she allows herself to, as if it were the last time before she meets her fate. "I'm sorry, I am sure that we cannot see each other again. But it was for the best if you're alive and your family as well. I think this is goodbye, Neptune." Weiss then turns away and walks away to depart from him.

But Neptune did not just stand there and watch, instead he stopped her and she turned back to look at him. "Neptune, I told you. We're different. I am the criminal's daughter, and your the son of the police captain. We're just not meant to be. I enjoyed these times together."

Neptune did not take these words to heart as he then decides to defy the opposites. He then brings out a small box wrapped in a ribbon. "Weiss, I don't care about any of that. Like I said, I defy my name and renounce the name of Vasilias. Just like you said, you also defied the name of Schnee. Therefore for me, you're just Weiss. And I won't define you by name. And I won't be preferred by the name Vasilias. I am Neptune, and only Neptune."

"Neptune. Somehow you managed to convince me. And for some reason, I have no regrets meeting you. The stars, the ocean, and the night sky, it will always remind me of the night we met. I also dreamed not only for university, but to also see you there. Where we can be free of our differences."

Weiss then looks up in the night sky and Neptune turned to the gift box. It was the perfect place for the right moment. Even if it is too early. His family will not like this, and her family will not like this either. But now would be a matter of time to ask her something. In hopes to free her from the Mafia life under her father's rule. "Weiss, I know we have met for a couple of days and months, but I was hoping I will ask you this."

Weiss then turned to Neptune who had knelt down and he opened the box to reveal a golden ring. Not expensive, but it was enough for Weiss to know the love he has for her. The real love she has wanted for a long time. "Neptune, you know we can't."

"I know, but I want to be the one to make you happy. If you let me, I'll try my best to give what I can give you. I will free you from this, and when we run, and cut ties with our families completely, this way, you can settle. Weiss Schnee, will you marry me, and join me in the flow of time?" Neptune's eye sparkled. Weiss can never be happier than before, as she wrapped her arms around him as he slips the ring in her finger. The least they have to do is survive their family feuds.

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The next afternoon, Winter and Jupiter are in a middle of a gun showdown as they came into a Mexican stand-off. "This time we will settle this once and for all, Schnee." Jupiter then cocks his rifle as he was the master marksman. But Winter has ready her gun after filling her bullets with her pistol. "You should appreciate when I became an informant for your father. I just want this war to end as much as you do."

"But not with you. These past few years were a streak of humiliation. Your father will not get away any longer without his secret weapon, mainly you. How does my father tolerate you this easily?" Jupiter snared. Glaring at her with such hatred. "Stop!" Then Neptune came in between them. "What are you doing, little bro?! Get out of the way!"

Neptune then turned to Jupiter. "No, bro! Let me handle this!" Then he turned to Winter. "I'm sorry my brother has been causing trouble for you! But for min and Weiss' sake, stand down!" Pleaded Neptune. Jupiter refuses to go down without a fight. And starts firing the gun, then Winter got behind the rails and shots back while Neptune and Jupiter also hid. "Sorry, Neptune, but this war has to come to an end."

Winter did not waste time to fire back. Jupiter then emerges and shots back. Neptune then fights back by tugging onto Jupiter's gun. "Let go of the gun, Neptune!" Jupiter yelled. "I'm doing this for the good of the family!"

"Good by foot!" Neptune retorted. Winter then lowers her weapon as she was about to say something. "Don't you realized this war has gone too far?! You and Winter have the power to stop this! If not for Dad, do it for me!" Pleaded Neptune as they kept fighting over the gun. Finally, Jupiter knocks out Neptune. Both are once again in position.

#rwby iceberg #rwby icy seas #weiss x neptune #weiss schnee x neptune vasilias #ice planet #weiss schnee #neptune vasilias #icebergweek2021

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indiavolowetrust · 4 years ago

Text

The Obey Me Boys as RPG Bosses: Frostheart

CHAPTERS: Prologue + Beelzebub and Belphegor, Asmodeus, Satan, Leviathan, Mammon, Lucifer, ???, ???, Endings (YOU ARE HERE)

You are one of many hunters in a land cursed with everlasting winter. You yourself have become rime-touched after an attack by your fellow corrupted hunter, an incident that left you traumatized and lame. Even your hunter’s guild has resigned you to a life of mere cleaning and upkeep duties, and you have spent the last seven years in the depths of your guild’s archives.

Then the White Witch spirits your little brother away into her castle, taking with her the only family you have ever known. Armed with your trusty hunting knife and bow – and aided by your senior hunter, Simeon – you set off into the rime-cursed lands to find Luke and end the White Witch’s reign once and for all.

**Very loosely based on The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Andersen.

Word Count: 3,960 words

TW: Blood, Violence, Gore

BAD ENDING: THE WITCH’S DOLL

Requirements:

1. Give the White Witch your heart. 2. Allow Simeon’s HP to fall below 50% in at least three boss fights. 3. Fail at least five self-sacrificing quick time events (i.e., be overly dependent on Simeon and make the minimum effort to protect him from harm).

This is all your fault, isn’t it? The thought sears through you, burning what remains of your resolve to ashes. He would surely hate you, if he had the capacity. If it weren’t for you -- well, it’s a bit too late to think of what-ifs now, isn’t it?

You approach the creature that Simeon has become, reaching up to press your hand against his visage. He leans into your touch, perhaps recognizing you, and you think you hear some iteration of your name. He has become every bit of the knight in shining armor he has wanted to be, it seems. His monstrously large frame has been outfitted with silver armor, every piece of it inscribed with brilliant sigils, and the sword at his side seems to have been carved from pure moonlight.

He’s beautiful. He’s the most beautiful creature you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes upon.

You know that cannot leave. The curse has wound itself around your soul, binding you to this land. The purity of his intent radiates from within him, simple and chaste, and you cannot bring yourself to abandon him again. He and Luke are happy here.

The White Witch gives you a gracious smile when you face her once more. Her hand reaches out, beckoning you. Her breath dances against your bare collarbones. Your undone bodice slips from your shoulders with a hush. A delicate, icy finger traces your sternum, stopping just before where your heart.

“I will do my best to lessen your pain, my dear,” whispers the White Witch against your ear. “It will be over in a moment.”

* * *

The witch lies.

* * *

The currant jelly today is a bit too tart, you think. A bit too acidic on the tongue. You add yet another dollop of whipped cream, crumble almond-flavored meringue atop the dollop, and take an experimental bite. Perfect. While the current doll-maker has a penchant for rice pudding and buttermilk, you can’t help but love the desserts with apples and currants above all else. Much to your irritation, it seems that the doll-maker has requested a lesser amount of currant jelly and stewed apples for the table today.

No matter. You’ll have Simeon shatter him if he steps out of line again.

You gingerly spoon portions of currant jelly onto Simeon and Luke’s plate, making sure to give them as much care as you had given to yours. While Luke doesn’t react when you put his fork in his hand -- hasn’t moved for a while, now that you think about it -- you do your best to secure it. It clatters onto the floor. You feed him yourself with your own fork, ignoring just how blue his lips have gotten. His eyes, blue and unblinking, have long lost their luster.

More dogged contenders have dared to encroach upon her lands, says the White Witch. Doesn’t that sound lovely? If you and Simeon break them into submission -- which you undoubtedly will, of course -- you’ll have more dolls to keep you company With so many kingdoms having befallen to the curse of the rime, it was only a matter of time before more powerful creatures would seek to end to the White Witch’s rules. This party is made of three rather interesting individuals: King Diavolo, the ruler of a fallen kingdom; Barbatos, former assassin and right hand to the king; and Solomon, an exceptionally powerful sorcerer of the court. While the witch tends to entrust the most powerful of opponents to you and Simeon, it would seem that these humans are especially dangerous. Dangerous, cunning, and prepared.

The sound of Simeon’s sabatons interrupts your train of thought, and you sigh. There are only so many humans you can slaughter before the process bores you, after all.

You belong to the witch body and soul. Only ice fills where your heart once was.

BAD ENDING: SHATTERED

Requirements:

1. Refuse to give the White Witch your heart. 2. Allow Simeon’s HP to fall below 50% in at least three boss fights. 3. Fail at least five self-sacrificing quick time events (i.e., be overly dependent on Simeon and make the minimum effort to protect him from harm).

Before you journeyed to the heart of the glacial rift -- before you had ever thought of embarking on this hellish journey -- you had only caught fleeting glimpses of Simeon’s skill in battle. The clashing of blades with a fellow hunter, his opponent’s weapon being skillfully parried a moment after. The disarming of a dozen recruits at once, his sinuous body weaving between attacks. His poise was greater than that of an ox, his grace rivaling that of an elk. When he placed a blade in your hands as your senior hunter, teaching you how to wield a blade of your own, you remember admiring just how perfect his form was with each strike. Seeing Simeon eradicate rime-touched beasts on your journey had not dulled your awe of his power. His power, his deftness, his experience. The difference between your skill and his is painfully, horribly obvious.

Simeon’s blade of moonlight swings in an arc overhead. You are just barely able to roll out of the way before it decimates the icy floor, sending shards of frozen stone flying. More than a few cut into your flesh when you force yourself back onto your feet, your stolen halberd shakily held out before you, but you don’t dare to hesitate again. To hesitate once more would mean to subject yourself to certain death. In this case, a beheading.

The creature that Simeon has become simply brandishes his greatsword, freeing it of any stone remnants. A truly ingrained habit, despite his now corrupted form. He merely regards you for a moment, looking every bit like a silent, statuesque knight in silver armor. When he single-handedly raises his blade towards you -- the weapon perfectly perpendicular to his body, the other hand passing over his heart and shoulder -- you almost break out in mirthless laughter.

It is the wordless offer of a duel. A duel fought honorably, respectfully, and to the death.

So this is what you wanted, you think. It is so wonderfully, extraordinarily Simeon that you can't help but feel solace. You wanted to be a knight in shining armor.

It is a battle that is already lost. You have not the strength, and you have not the skill. You have not the bravery. It is a battle that is already lost, but it is one that you will grant him. And so you return the gesture: weapon held before you, hand crossing your heart and resting at your shoulder. A bow.

You sidestep his first strike, blocking his second. It sends you flying into the icy pillar behind you, nearly shattering your lame leg, and you are barely

able to parry his third strike. It is a decision that has been poorly made: he uses your overexertion of force to loosen your grip on your stolen halberd, leaving you wielding it with a single hand. You cry out in pain when he shatters the entirety of your left arm. The shards of crystalline flesh scatter against the icy floor, your blue ichor splattered over both you and Simeon.

His visage and hands had been drenched with your blood, you remember. A crimson so dark that it was almost black. The sea serpent had nearly torn your flesh away from the bone, his handiwork on your leg was a stitched mess, and you were nearly insensate. Yet you had felt the tears against your skin, his head buried in your chest. You had heard his pleas -- stay with me, don’t go, don’t leave me, please -- and you had used the last ounce of your strength to press both hands against his cheeks in a familiar gesture. A stupid decision. Did you give him empty words of comfort? Had you told him that it would be alright, that you would never abandon him? Had you made promises that you would come to break?

Then there was that warmth pressed against your lips, quiet and fleeting. So subdued that you had thought you had only dreamt it. But there was the taste of blood and hoarfrost, despair and desperation.

You use your lame leg to pivot, narrowly avoiding a lunge, but you have neither the momentum nor the strength to avoid the next flurry of attacks. His greatsword cuts deep into your flesh again and again, painting the throne room with that violent, vivid blue. Your own attempts are met with immediate ripostes. Simeon hacks off what remains of your ruined arm with his blade, and your scream echoes throughout the chamber.

Had you allowed Simeon to accompany you because you truly sought his aid, or had you only wanted someone to save you over and over again? Did you embark on this journey to truly save Luke, or were you simply afraid of dying alone? When the creature that was once Agathe ripped you apart, piece by piece, were you satisfied with the knowledge that you had saved your brother?

Or did you resent him for causing you so much pain and suffering?

Simeon’s greatsword crushes your lame leg. You collapse forward into a crumpled heap, your cheek impacting onto the frozen stone. Your halberd clatters uselessly against the icy ground. The creature that will be your executioner steps forward, placing himself into yet another traditional stance. His blade is swung high above his head.

You should feel anguish. You are staring into the face of death, and so you should feel some ounce of grief. Some semblance of heartache for this quest that you have so miserably failed.

And yet there is only a quiet acceptance. The light spills so beautifully upon this creature, and for a moment, you can see only Simeon. Simeon, your knight in shining armor. Simeon, the good and gentle baker’s son. Simeon, whose love you had realized just a bit too late. The light nearly blinds you as you reach for him, fingers splayed. If you were to just reach a bit further, you could touch him. You could touch him, and perhaps the curse would lift. Perhaps all would be well.

It is certainly a comforting thought.

You smile at him for the last time. The greatsword is brought down with crushing force.

GOOD ENDING: FROSTHEART

Requirements:

1. Refuse to give the White Witch your heart. 2. Keep Simeon’s HP above 50% in all boss fights. 3. Succeed in at least ten self-sacrificing quick time events (i.e., put yourself in the face of danger to protect him).

All this time, and the witch hasn’t bothered to lift a finger towards you. You regret that you had only noticed it after the fifth exchange -- but you suppose that can’t be helped. A single arm dangles uselessly at your side. Your stolen halberd has become more and more difficult to wield, given the chunks of crystalline flesh missing from your body, and your blue ichor has painted the chamber a violent, vibrant blue. The creature that has become Simeon has only become more and more aggressive, given your inadvertent proximity to the White Witch. Her rime-touched eyes bore holes into the back of your neck.

You want to rip them out of their sockets.

Before you had reciprocated Simeon’s offer of a duel -- certainly long before you had held your halberd before you, a hand crossing your heart -- you had already known that such a battle could not possibly be won. Not in a traditional sense, anyway. Each of your attempts had been met with piercing ripostes. Each of his lunges had been barely dodged, and you hadn’t dared to parry. Despite the constitution that the curse has given you, you know all too well the power and finesse that Simeon bears. You cannot possibly win.

Which is alright, really, because there’s no need for victory here. Not over Simeon.

You don’t have to win, you remind yourself. Simeon flourishes his greatsword with frightening ease, and the corrupted moonlight that emanates from it is nearly blinding. You catch the glint of something far above you. A chandelier. You only need to survive. If you don’t, that damned witch will --

You elude Simeon’s swing just in time, a barely formulated plan making itself known in your thoughts. Sheared locks of hair flutter to the ground, and blue ichor begins to flow freely from a cut against your cheek. You need no other encouragement.

Your bare feet tap pad the ground as you sprint towards the center of the throne room, and it is only after a moment that you realize that Simeon’s own footsteps not far behind yours. And so you give in to the frost just a bit more: a whispered incantation slipping into the glacial air, the rime emanating in your heart, and the frost answering your soul once more. A single step, and you can feel the ice crawling up Simeon’s sabatons. Another step, and you can feel the ice cracking from the force of his movements. It is as expected, of course. The rime-tainted memories of being spellbound by the doll-maker -- of having his hands skirting over your wrists, your hands and feet bound by ice, his words pulling at the curse within your soul -- have taught you well enough. Even if it is nothing but a parlor trick, you only need a moment.

Thankfully, it is a moment that you have earned.

The creature that Simeon has become stares at you with silent scorn, the White Witch’s gaze peering out from within. His greatsword is all but truly frozen to his hands, and his massive limbs have already begun to crack the ice. You have mere seconds left. You aim your stolen halberd straight at the chain holding the massive chandelier above, your nearly frozen body trembling with effort. The frost that encases Simeon’s upper body shatters. You draw even more power from the curse of the rime, pulling your arm back. Simeon steps freely from the impromptu cage, and the glacial shards scatter uselessly on the ground. When you finally hurl the halberd towards the chain, your last hope soaring through the air, the creature that Simeon has become is but a whisper away.

For the first time, you can’t help but be thankful for being among the cursed. You’re sure that the pain would be utterly unbearable if you weren’t.

Yet you can’t help but cry out. Blue ichor spills from your mouth, painting both you and Simeon in that violent, vivid hue, and your efforts to block out the agony of being impaled are trampled by the horrid sight. The creature that Simeon has become twists the blade in deeper. An inhuman scream escapes from your throat at that, your consciousness threatening to flicker out of existence -- but you will not yield. You will not falter. His blade cuts into your frozen palms when you force his greatsword further past your rib cage, your vision blurring from the pain. You feel the White Witch’s satisfaction rolling off him in waves.

The chandelier comes crashing down not a moment too soon, the sheer force separating Simeon’s pauldrons from the rest of his armored body. You rip the greatsword out of your rib cage before you can collapse beneath its weight.

And then you are waiting. The White Witch holds your rime-touched gaze with her own, soundless. Uncertain. Her complete inaction only proves what you had theorized.

It isn’t that she hasn’t bothered to lift a finger towards you. It isn’t that she thought it beneath her dignity to attack you herself. She simply has no power of her own.

“Frost-ridden whore! Petulant whelp! How dare you --”

Is that not why she collects her dolls? As the greatest bearer of the curse -- the true puppet of the glacial rift’s heart -- she is bound to this land in the most literal manner possible. There is only so much she can do from her throne, after all. Beyond the terrible loneliness, the loss of her humanity, and her corruption, she merely wishes for some control over her state, even if it means breathing life into things that should have never been given a mockery of a soul. Even if it means fruitlessly attempting to achieve that which she cannot have again and again. If she cannot make or find a heart of frost to devour -- well, the heart of the glacial rift has no use for something that is long dead. And the White Witch would rather wither away on her throne than simply leave her corpse to rot.

A scowl crosses her white face. “Your brother is long gone. Your companion is nothing but a hollow cadaver. Why try to save what has already been lost? What have you to gain by slaying me? You, who could have a life without pain, heartache, suffering -- my dear, are you truly willing to trade such a life for petty revenge?”

You will not be swayed so easily. Simeon’s greatsword draws fissures in the icy floor as you limp towards the witch. You’ll end her reign, you promise her. This beautiful, frozen bastion of death will meet her demise here and now, and you will be the one to see it to the end.

“The curse of the rime will live on with or without me,” she spits, her gaze filled with hate. “You may chop me to pieces, set this horrid place aflame, slay every cursed creature in sight -- but it’ll always come back. Oh, my dear, it’ll always come back. But you already know that, don’t you? I can see it in your face. You can hear it calling out to you, singing that lovely little song --”

Shut up.

A mirthless grin. “You cannot lie to me, my dear. Tell me, what was it that you wanted? Ah, no, don’t tell me -- you wanted Luke to appreciate you just a bit more. You wanted him to look at you the way he used to before my little doll tore your leg and eye out, not with all that pity.”

Shut up.

“Or did you wish you realized your companion’s affections a bit earlier? To convince such a strapping young man to throw away his life so readily -- my, you are quite the seductress, aren’t you? It was unfortunate that the doll-maker couldn’t make something more useful out of him. I did so enjoy hearing him call out for you in the torture chamber.”

Shut up!

Despite your grievous injuries, you find that have brought Simeon’s blade to her neck. Edge piercing through her flesh, her rime-touched eyes meeting yours. While she does not bleed -- a corpse is bloodless, of course -- you’re well aware that such a blow should have incapacitated her. The White Witch regards you with that same mocking, dispassionate smile.

It is only a heart, you imagine her whispering against her ear. It is only a heart, nothing more. Your only family is but a corpse. Your companion is a walking puppet. You had every intention of sacrificing yourself to the glacial rift. You had not expected to reach the heart of the White Witch’s realm unchanged, much less alive. You had anticipated the spread and corruption of the curse. You had known all along that you would not return from this journey, and yet --

And yet.

Your gaze flickers to the creature that Simeon has become, his monstrous form reflected in his blade. The curse of the rime will live on with or without the witch, but you cannot possibly abandon Simeon and Luke to this hellish existence. One of you must bear the curse. One of you will take the curse unto herself, become both its vessel and catalyst, and one of you will be rendered completely and utterly powerless. Forever bound to this land. The White Witch begins to show a semblance of human fear in her expression, perhaps realizing just what it is that you intend to do -- but it is too late. Your mind is set.

There’s nothing stopping you from ripping her heart out and taking it for yourself, is there?

* * *

The piercing of one’s flesh by ice crystals from within. The loss of extremities to the frost. The forced expulsion of bodily fluids. Even when you are torn limb from limb -- your ichor painting the throne, strangled cries shattering the silence -- you find yourself holding onto the gentle memory of your first days in the Frost Blades. Luke’s hand was warm in yours. Simeon gave you a surreptitious wink as he passed you, mouthing some inside joke, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing. It was the first day of spring.

You pray that you do not lose that memory. You pray that you will not forget the taste of spring against your lips, bright and brisk. Even if the rime will possess the entirety of your flesh and soul, you pray that it does not take this from you.

The final strip of the White Witch’s heart passes through your throat. The last of your screams echo in the chamber.

* * *

The voices come through the frost, quiet and somber. While you are no longer capable of human speech, you’re able to understand enough of the words. His name is Luke, and he’s almost a bit too stubborn and pretentious to be a simple courier for a bakery. Given his talent, he should be a patissier for a noble. Something worthy of that demeanor of his. The baker -- the baker’s son, really, or Simeon to his closer associates -- seems like he’d be better off as a guard of some sort. Oh, if only they had the reason to send him off to seek his own fortune! If he were to put himself to the test, he could even be a knight in shining armor for some noble. But he is too content as he is now, they say. He is much too gentle and kind, and the baker’s son hasn’t even the nerve to hurt a fly. There is a strange sort of sadness in the both of them, as if something dear to their hearts was lost. A sibling, perhaps? A parental figure of some sort? Or in Simeon’s case, a lover?

The whispers come in the wind. You reach for them, only to find them slipping through your fingers.

You are everywhere and nowhere. You are the trees when the wind whistles through their branches, and you are the roots when they drink their fill from the soil. You are the eye of the storm when the thunder rolls over the mountains, and you are the stone when the rain kisses and corrodes away its surface. You are the currants so cleanly plucked by the elk, and you are the snowflake that blesses an infant’s cheek.

And when the baker opens his door to let in the first day of spring, you are the gust that takes his breath away. You are the leaves that caress his visage, you are the frost that presses itself so softly to his mouth, and you are the breeze that embraces him. You hope that he will remember, if only for a moment. There will be the burst of a bright, brisk spring against his lips when you part. A gentle yearning.

He will blink, and in the next moment, it will be as if nothing was ever there.

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iamseeress · 5 years ago

Text

Tokens For Your Appreciation

Summary: Katsuki isn't into birthdays. But he does appreciate the gifts.

___________________

Katsuki isn’t really into birthdays.

He remembers to get his mom a little something every year, he’d eat a slice of his own birthday cake if someone else buys it, but that’s it. Birthdays come and go whether Katsuki does anything about it or not. And if you miss this year, well, there’s always another one coming.

His dad though likes to celebrate birthdays. Not big productions or surprise parties, just enough to mark the occasion as special. There’d usually be a wrapped gift for Katsuki or his mom, and dinner plans in a nicer-than-average restaurant.

Katsuki doesn’t mind it; he just isn’t gonna plan it. Especially not for someone else.

Once when he was 12, trudging at the mall while his dad picked out a gift for his mom when he’d rather be on a run using the cool shoes he got for his birthday, his dad told him giving gifts is part of being in a relationship. It shows your appreciation for the other person and that you care; and when time comes that Katsuki gets a girlfriend or wife, she’d expect Katsuki to remember special dates like anniversaries and birthdays, and gifts on those occasions would not be amiss.

It was a good father-and-son talk, a valuable life lesson for sure thanks, but Katsuki has a goal to achieve, and relationships — romantic or otherwise — are pretty low in his list of priorities. It was low when he was 12, and it’s still low now at 17 turning 18.

In their first year in UA, his classmates hadn’t been aware that his birthday is on April 20. Classes had only begun 2 weeks before and Katsuki could barely remember his classmates’ faces, much less their names. They eventually found out because Iida and Yaoyorozu were given basic information about each student including dates of birth, but by that time Katsuki’s birthday had already passed.

It had come and gone with only a mumbled "happy birthday, Kacchan" from a nervous Izuku.

Izuku knows Katsuki’s birthday, of course. It’s Katsuki’s fate to be in the same class as Izuku since they were in their baby blue pre-school smocks. There’d been more than a handful of cakes and wrapped gifts between them over the years but none at all past grade school. By the time they were in middle school, they didn’t hang out enough to merit an invite to birthday treats or any gift buying.

They used to though. When Katsuki was younger his dad would have him invite a friend or two to have ice cream with him as a special treat after school for his birthday. When he got a little older, the treat included a side trip to the game arcade and a pouch full of tokens for him and his friends.

Izuku had usually been one of those friends, until they weren't friends anymore and Katsuki stopped inviting people altogether. He doesn’t need extras on his birthday.

In their second year in UA, Sato baked him a birthday cake. Katsuki deigned to stay in the dorm common room 30 minutes past his usual bedtime and allowed his classmates — friends by then he supposes — to celebrate his 17th birthday with him. His parents had called to greet him and the next time he was home they went out to dinner in a nice Thai restaurant that had a lot spicy offerings.

Izuku hadn’t gotten him a gift but he’d been smiling when he greeted Katsuki a "happy birthday, Kacchan” before they walked to class together, discussing their English homework on the way.

Katsuki is turning 18 tomorrow. He expects Sato to bake him another cake.

This isn’t because he’s an entitled ass but because Sato bakes a cake most days and definitely one on each of their classmates’ birthdays. Also because Sato had asked him earlier what flavor he would like.

Katsuki told him chocolate. Sato had hummed then explained that he could make a dark chocolate cake with a little red chili for heat and Katsuki found himself impressed and growled out a thanks.

So Katsuki will have a cake tomorrow and very likely a card signed by everyone in their class — he’s had to sign a card for 19 other people plus Aizawa in the past two years; Yaoyorozu is in charge of buying the cards from class funds — and that will be that for Katsuki’s 18th birthday.

For today though, it’s Saturday afternoon and he’s in the common room eating a pre-workout snack of yogurt and berries, watching chaos unfold.

“Are you sure you can’t repay me another way, Aoyama-kun?” Izuku says, in near desperate tones. “Or, or better yet, and this is definitely the better option now that I think about it, maybe we can consider us quits! I did it as your friend and no repayment is needed. At all. Your happiness, Aoyama-kun, is payment enough.”

“Non, non, Midoriya, mon ami. You have done me a great service and I would be remiss in my duties as a friend if I didn’t repay you in kind. Good deeds must be repaid, especially between friends. Otherwise, chaos would reign in the world, n’est-ce pas?”

“Ha ha, yeah, chaos,” Izuku laughs weakly. He throws a pleading glance at Uraraka seated by the sofa.

She dutifully comes to his rescue. Or at least attempts to.

“Aoyama-kun, as heroes-in-training we don’t expect any repayment from those we help. It’s just what we do,” Uraraka says with a cheerful smile. She pauses and a little furrow appears over her brow. “Not that I’d say ‘no’ if they wanna pay me extra.”

“Uraraka-kun!” Izuku hisses but it was too late.

“Bien sur. We do not expect it but we also do not say no when it is offered and in this case it is not just offered but insisted. Midoriya, I must insist that you allow me to do this for you. As your good friend, and as someone whom you’ve saved magnificently from dire straits,” Aoyama says, an earnest hand on his chest.

Izuku sighs and gives in to the inevitable. “Alright, Aoyama-kun. How do you wanna do this?”

“Fantastique! We meet here tomorrow morning at 9. You bring your charming self and I shall take care of the rest. We should be back in time for dinner with the rest of our merveilleux amis.”

“It’s gonna take the whole day?” Izuku asks, clearly surprised.

“Midoriya, one cannot rush perfection. It will take as long as it will take,” Aoyama says, batting elegantly long eyelashes. “But for now, a bientot. I need to make reservations for our little adventure tomorrow.”

And with a flip of his expertly cut and feathered hair, Aoyama exits the common room, leaving sparkles in his wake.

Izuku collapses on the sofa, rubbing his face with his hands. Uraraka pats his shoulder in commiseration but Katsuki can see her eyes bubbling with laughter.

“Do I wanna know what the fuck that was about?” Katsuki asks, spooning yogurt into his mouth.

“Aoyama-kun wants to give Deku-kun a ‘make-over’,” Uraraka says, very ineffectively muffling the giggles with her hand.

Katsuki raises an eyebrow. “Surprised he can do that in just one day.”

Izuku groans into his hands. “Kacchan, you’re not helping.”

“Cheer up, Deku-kun. You don’t know, you might have fun! He’s probably just gonna take you shopping… ermm, but maybe stay away from flowy long sleeved blouses in case he asks you to get them. I don’t think they’d suit you,” Uraraka says, waving her hand vaguely over Izuku’s well muscled form.

Katsuki imagines Izuku's short, stocky frame in one of Aoyama’s frilly white shirts, the ruffled collars high up his muscle-thickened neck. He snickers.

“Just give it up, Deku. You already said yes. Are you planning to mope there all day or are we doing that spar?”

“Spar please, Kacchan,” Izuku says, standing up. “Make me forget.”

“Always happy to kick your ass, nerd. Meet you back here in 5.”

Katsuki wasn’t quite sure when it happened but barring exceptional circumstances, Saturday afternoons is what he mentally — but never verbally — refers to as ‘Deku time’.

There’s no hard and fast rule about the content, only the participants.

It’s usually some form of physical activity because that’s how they first managed to bridge the gap between them: by fighting until one of them surrendered, got injured, or a teacher intervened. It remains as a way for them to stay in tune with each other, despite that these days they talk more together than Katsuki does with anyone else.

For today, they decide on a no-quirk wrestling match; whoever gets pinned five times should be ashamed of themselves. They are hot and sweaty, muscles bunched up, each trying to get a firm hold on the other — palms, arms, thighs sliding over sweat slicked parts.

An hour and a half in and Katsuki wins: 5 pin downs to Deku’s 3.

Izuku is already pouting underneath Katsuki, getting ready to challenge the last pin down, but Katsuki is taking the win and not giving it back. He grins down on Izuku, flat on his back with a mutinous look in his green eyes.

“That was sneaky, Kacchan.”

“Not my fault you got distracted.”

They had been in the middle of a grapple; Izuku was about to slip away, Katsuki could feel it. Katsuki had his mouth beside Izuku’s ear and he whispered “I wonder what you’d look like after Aoyama’s done with you.”

Izuku had gasped and there had been a tiny lapse in his concentration and Katsuki swooped in. He’d been pinned on the mat in a matter of seconds.

Katsuki should get up, get off Izuku, offer him a hand up, but he was enjoying this too much. He has Izuku beaten, aggrieved and under him. Can anything taste any better?

He’s still gloating, in the middle of relishing his victory when he feels a familiar stirring in his pants. Katsuki clambers off Izuku and gets up, faster than even Iida could have moved.

Teenaged boys get boners. It’s a fact of life.

It generally doesn’t happen when grappling for points or bragging rights — no matter what porn films may show you. The body pumps blood everywhere else except your cock, under the all-important mission of not letting you be pinned to the ground by your opponent.

But the moment the fight instinct is gone, with adrenaline still pumping through you, and you’re in contact with the hard heated body of your stupidly attractive classmate slash friend slash rival, well — blood gets diverted somewhere specific really fast.

It’s happened before, it will happen again. Until all these bullshit hormones stop raging across their teenaged bodies.

Tomorrow, Katsuki will be one year closer to that bliss and he’ll be grateful for it. Because these ‘incidents’ with Izuku have been happening faster, more often, and stupidly harder to get rid off each time it happens. Katsuki has better things to do than rage at his own dick for being a dick.

Katsuki walks off to grab their water bottles, surreptitiously adjusting his pants.

He throws one to Izuku, still lying on the mat with his eyes closed.

Probably willing his own hard-on away, Katsuki thinks viciously.

The bottle bounces on Izuku’s chest, rolls away and gets retrieved with Black Whip.

Izuku eventually sits up and Katsuki reclaims his space in front of him, their knees almost but not quite touching.

“I think I’m nervous about tomorrow,” Izuku says.

“You’re about to be a pro hero and you dress like an 8 year old. Can’t hurt to let him help you,” Katsuki says, blunt as always.

“We’re in uniform when we patrol though, what does it matter what else I wear,” Izuku points out.

“You weren’t in uniform when you fought Gentle Criminal.”

The video had somehow been uploaded, caught viral attention, then picked up by one of the biggest tv news stations a few months ago. It had brought unwanted fame and notoriety to provisional hero license Deku and Midoriya Izuku.

“I suppose we can all be grateful it wasn’t one of your stupid slogan shirts,” Katsuki says.

His muscles are pleasantly tired and an over-all feeling of langour and well-being is washing over him, now familiar after all this time spent with Izuku.

Izuku huffs. “Says ‘Aji Fry’ shirt.”

“Fuck you, I look good in it. You are just a mess.”

Izuku chuckles. “Can’t argue with that. You always look good, Kacchan. If you weren’t such an asshole scaring away people, you’d give Todoroki a run for his money.”

“Better an asshole than a dumb prince.”

“Todoroki’s not dumb,” Izuku says, mostly by reflex than any desire to argue. Katsuki has called everyone worse things.

Katsuki sips his water and doesn’t say anything. Todoroki ranked fifth in their last mid term exams.

“You think this is a good idea, Kacchan? Me getting this ‘make-over’?” Izuku asks.

There is a hesitation in his voice that Katsuki hasn’t heard in a while.

Katsuki knows that somewhere underneath that horrible slogan tee and roomy gym shorts is a body that most pro linebackers would kill to have. Broad shoulders, massive torso, powerful thighs. Built like a freight train and just as unstoppable.

He’s seen it, he’d just been grappling with it. Sometimes he even dreams about it. Stupid teenage hormones.

“You’ll fanboy over All Might even after you’re a pro hero yourself. You’d help little old ladies cross the street by picking them up and their entire goddamned house. You’re always gonna be a crybaby. What does it matter if you can Windsor knot your tie?”

“Just get kitted out with laser boy. If you like it, fine. If you don’t, then don’t do it again. It’s one Sunday. You’ll be a nerd regardless.”

“Kacchan…” Izuku says, green eyes filling with tears.

“What did I tell you? Crybaby.”

“Thank you, Kacchan,” Izuku says, laughing and sniffling at the same time.

“Just go,” Katsuki says, mopping away tears from freckled cheeks with rough fingers. “How bad could it be?”

Katsuki deliberates whether to explode Aoyama, Izuku or himself first.

For as long as Katsuki can remember, Izuku’s hair had been an unruly mass of soft green curls. It clearly had a mind of its own and refused most of Izuku’s efforts to tame it. They tend to stand up more in the mornings when Izuku has just gotten out of bed, and splay themselves out like wonky dandelions seeds during hot humid days.

They’re gone now.

That is, Izuku still has his curls and is not currently bald, but the unruly mess of green is gone. The curls on the lower half of his head had been trimmed away, buzzed off until only a short green fuzz was left. The curls on the sides and top of his head remain intact but they’d been shortened, expertly cut to make the green strands less of a mess that Katsuki had learned to live with and more a temptation he wants to run his fingers through.

Izuku has the audacity, the sheer gall to duck his head down and look sheepish. The soft blush highlighting his freckled cheeks is just overkill.

“I’m still not used to it,” Izuku tells their assembled classmates, “the back of my head feels cold.”

They’re all in the common room, Aoyama and Izuku walked in not 5 minutes ago. Aoyama looking pleased with himself; Izuku looking like he stepped off a fashion magazine, sports edition. The entire room had gone nuts.

Katsuki saw them leave that morning and he knew Izuku had on a pale green tee that said ‘bath robe’.

That’s gone as well and good riddance, replaced by a dark green button up that lent color to Izuku’s eyes and highlighted the planes of his impressive chest. The sleeves are folded almost up to the elbows, exposing arms that Katsuki knew for a fact could lift bridges. The scars only add depth of character to what is already a very delectable picture. The dark jeans Izuku had on actually fit, caressing the tree trunk thighs without being too tight, tapering just right down his legs.

Aoyama had clearly employed some kind of magic. Katsuki’s parents would approve. Short but stacked is not an easy combination to dress up.

Uraraka is clutching Izuku’s arm, looking at him in wonder. Kaminari is running his hands through Izuku’s remaining curls, fluffing them up. Everyone else in the room is crowding him, patting his back, squeezing his arm, telling him he looked great, getting a piece of Izuku’s freely given smile for themselves.

Everyone except Aoyama. Katsuki tears his gaze away from the spectacle that is Deku and finds Aoyama’s eyes fixed on him. He smiles and sparkles at Katsuki.

Katsuki scowls and contemplates exploding Aoyama again for causing this but Izuku is talking now, laughing about something.

“Aoyama-kun wanted me to get my ears pierced. Just one. Maybe get a red stone for an earring. But UA won’t allow that so maybe after graduation,” Izuku says with another laugh.

Katsuki realizes he’s bent the fork he has in his hand into something unusable. He goes to the kitchen to get another fork, bringing his plate of half-eaten cake with him.

He can still hear the laughter from the common area. He slams the plate down on the kitchen counter, but they're made to withstand quirk abuse and doesn’t shatter.

“Do you like my birthday gift to you, Bakugou?”

Katsuki turns and sees Aoyama, sparkling at him.

“What gift?” He asks, confused for a moment. Other than the cake and card, he didn’t get anything from his classmates.

“Sometimes it is difficult to see something if we are too close to it. It’s better if someone else rips away the veil, et voila! And you see what has always been there.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Katsuki would be more irritated with the cryptic conversation except that he welcomes the distraction from all the giggling happening just a few meters away.

“Do you know that the entire day, our dear friend Midoriya has been talking about how amazing ‘Kacchan’ is? He was quite concerned if you would like his new look.”

Aoyama smiles again, looking both earnest and impish at the same time.

“He likes you.”

“‘Course he does,” Bakugou snaps out.

“Sometimes friends are just friends. Midoriya and I, we are bons amis. Sometimes, friends turn to lovers. It doesn’t mean they are any less friends. Or rivals. They simply become more.”

Katsuki stabs his fork into the chocolate cake, lets the dark sweetness of it cover his tongue.

“Happy birthday, Bakugou. Midoriya deserves the best, don’t you think?”

Message delivered, Aoyama leaves Katsuki.

Katsuki has always been decisive.

Unlike Izuku who mumbles and dithers with choices, trying to cover all possible angles, Katsuki is quick to choose a path and explore it.

Right now, decision made, it is easier to bear the admiring looks and constant touching happening in front of him. Izuku looks happy at least.

Half an hour past his usual bedtime, Katsuki growls out a good night. Everyone calls out their own good nights, happy birthday agains, and see you tomorrows, too used to Katsuki’s ways after 2 years of living together to protest at how early it still is.

He’s already reached the elevator doors when Izuku catches up to him.

“Can we pass by my room first, Kacchan? I have something for you,” Izuku says, the look may be new but the smile is the same warm one he’d always given Katsuki.

Katsuki pushes the number 2 button in response, still looking Izuku over.

“Where’d you get clothes that actually fit?”

“Ah, the clothes are from normal shops. It was the tailor that we had to look for. We had to get everything altered. Anything that fit me across the chest would be too long. What could fit my thighs would be too loose in the waist, and again too long,” Izuku said with a wry twist of his lips.

For all of Izuku’s nervous tics, he had never seemed particularly bothered by his height. He’s not short, per se, he’s past the average height for a Japanese man. But for a pro hero, he’s definitely on the shorter side of the field. He just barely tops Katsuki’s chin.

“So you got more of these?” Katsuki said, picking at Izuku’s shirt.

“A couple more but they’re all still with the tailor. I’m gonna go get them next weekend. Aoyama just made them finish this one set so he can show me off to everyone.”

Katsuki nudges Izuku's red shoes with his own. Izuku looks down at the contact and comes back up smiling.

"Yeah, Aoyama-kun let me keep my shoes. He said the goal is to show a more presentable side of me, not change me."

Izuku begins to tuck a curl behind his ear, realizes there is nothing to tuck and scratches the soft skin at the back of his ear instead.

Katsuki reaches out and encircles Izuku’s wrist with his fingers, pulling it away, halting the nervous gesture. Green eyes look at him in surprise.

“Don’t. You look good,” Katsuki admits. “You, this, it all looks good.”

“Oh. Thanks, Kacchan.”

There is a soft pink tingeing his freckled cheeks, more pleased than embarrassed.

The door opens and Katsuki follows Izuku to his room. It’s familiar. He’d spent hours in this room over the last 2 years; Izuku’s spent even more time in Katsuki’s.

Izuku grabs something bright colored from the desk.

“Here,” he says, holding out a small package wrapped in red and orange paper. “Happy birthday.”

Katsuki takes it, surprised. He hadn’t been expecting a gift but perhaps he should have.

“What’s this?” he asks rather inanely.

“Open it,” Izuku says, smiling at him.

Katsuki finds the flap and pulls on it, tearing the paper to expose a small rectangular box. Inside on a bed of white padding is a thin metal rectangle, the size of an ID card if a bit thicker. It’s a black matte finish with orange edging, portraying a stylized version of his hero mask.

The design is familiar. He’d seen Izuku doodle variations of it on one of his many notebooks. Katsuki hadn’t thought much about it; Izuku has been putting pieces of him on paper since they were kids.

On the flip side is inscribed his hero name in beautiful calligraphy, edged in dark green. Despite the small size, it has heft, lying heavy on his hand. A thin strap of black fine leather is looped on one corner.

It feels luxurious; the craftsmanship excellent.

“You know they can’t make merch of us yet. Officially at least. But you’re gonna be so big when you debut as pro hero, Kacchan. You’re gonna have tons of merch. I wanted to make this for you first.”

Katsuki turns the gift over in his hand, running his fingers over the smooth surface and design, feeling its weight.

“Are you really giving me my own merch?”

Izuku grins. “Tell me you’re not super pumped to see your name and colors.”

Katsuki grins back, sharp and pleased.

“Did you get one for ‘Deku’ for yourself?”

Izuku shakes his head. “No, just this.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. Hero Deku will have just as much of an impact in the pro hero scene. But Katsuki understands, it's okay to fanboy over other heroes but not over himself.

“I can’t wear my own merch, Deku. That’s tacky. My mom would have my hide.”

Izuku laughs. “You don’t have to wear it. Just keep it somewhere. It slips in the wallet too.”

Katsuki’s fingers are still playing with the metal card, feeling the texture with his fingers.

“How about you wear it?”

Izuku blinks at him.

Katsuki walks over to the familiar backpack sitting on the desk chair. It’s easy enough to loop the leather on one of the front clasps. The black and orange design is stark against the yellow fabric.

Katsuki feels a rush of satisfaction looking at the obvious branding.

“Are you sure about this, Kacchan?”

“Why not. Maybe if you carry this with you everyday, you’ll catch up to me sooner.”

Izuku touches the metal, a small smile on his lips. “I wanted one done for me too,” he admits sheepishly.

“Of course, you did,” Katsuki says, amused. “You’d probably buy all my merch when they come out, even the limited edition ones.”

“Are you kidding? Especially the limited edition ones,” Izuku says, full grinning now.

“But Kacchan,” Izuku says, losing some of his brightness, “I won’t have a gift for you if you give this back.”

“Who says I’m giving it back? You’re just wearing it cause I can’t.”

“Tacky, I know.” Izuku says, smiling again. “Thank you, Kacchan. I hope you enjoyed your birthday.”

“Yeah, I got a good gift this year,” Katsuki says, recalling what Aoyama said, strengthening his resolve.

He’s looking at his gift right now — freckles, green eyes and a warm smile, all made up just for Katsuki.

He steps closer to Izuku, closer than is comfortable even between friends.

Izuku tips his head back, looking at Katsuki, his eyes wide with questions.

“Kacchan?”

“Actually, you could give me another gift,” Katsuki says, voice unintentionally low and raspy.

He lifts a hand, brushing his knuckles across the newly buzzed hair behind Izuku’s perfectly shaped ear, threading it through the unruly curls higher up. He feels Izuku draw in a shuddering breath, see the tip of a wet pink tongue dart out in a nervous gesture, wetting his lips.

“What gift?” Izuku asks, voice thready.

Izuku’s right hand clutches at the front of Katsuki’s shirt and he realizes he’d been slowly leaning down, leaning into Izuku’s space.

“You could give me a kiss,” Katsuki whispers and bends down to give it to himself instead.

Izuku’s lips are soft, moist, impossibly warm.

“Oh,” Izuku says softly when Katsuki pulls away.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“Happy birthday, Kacchan.”

“So far, the best ever.”

Katsuki is surprised to find he knows when Izuku’s birthday is. He didn’t think he remembered anyone’s except for his parents.

It’s still 3 months away. Katsuki has time to get a matching pro hero Deku design made. Izuku can wear it on his backpack too. Their colors will clash horribly with the yellow but he doubts Izuku would mind.

He realizes Izuku would give him a gift every year now. And he’d have to give one back too because no way he’ll lose to Izuku. Maybe he’ll get him an earring next year, the red would look good against his green curls.

Well, Katsuki still isn’t big on birthdays. But it would be easy enough to remember Izuku’s.

___________________ Author’s Notes:

Later, Katsuki finds out that it’s much more important to remember Inko’s birthday than her son’s. Izuku will love him no matter what but pleasing in-laws is a top priority mission. Did I research on how to dress a short, stocky man? Why, yes. Yes I did.

This fic was created for the BKDK Katsuki Birthday Exchange 2020 as a gift to Mimocha. They wanted an Ikemen!Deku for Katsuki.

#seeressfics #bkdk #bakudeku #bnha #bkdkbirthday #tokensforyourappreciation #Seeress on AO3 #@iamseeress on Twitter

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brianc521 · 6 years ago

Text

Princess

One look, and you know that she’s Shawn’s daughter. There was no question about it. From her curly locks to the sassy attitude, there was no mistaking her. Skyla Rae Anne Mendes, was a Mendes through and through. Living her life on the road, along for the ride on her Dad’s world tours was where she belonged.

She fills the hole in the touring team that they didn’t even know they had. Sure, having a five year old on tour with a bunch of boys was rough. The things Shawn requested because she was with him made for more work, but at the end of the day everyone loved Skyla Mendes more than they loved her Dad.

“Shawn, really?” Cez asks as Shawn turns to speak to Mike about his solo.

“Okay, so if we have to break after Mutual I want you to go into a solo.” He explains, waiting for Mike to scribble down this scenario. “Like literally go all Tommy Lee on their asses, leave them exhausted from your energy.”

“Okay and what’s the plan if we need to break after Bad Rep, or Fallin, or Youth?” Cez remarks.

Zubin turns and shakes his head at the tour manager, “Were you not at the meeting last night? We literally went over it all.”

Cez rolls his eyes, frustrated with the extra amount of work Shawn is requesting from the band. It adds for more situations of failure and mishaps. The band on the other hand? All hands on deck. They understand Shawn’s need to make sure that he can get off stage at any moment in time, in the rare case scenario that Skyla might need him.

“Daddy!” Skyla cheers, running from the wings where Brian had her, onto the stage to her Dad.

“Princess,” He grins, picking her up and resting her on his hip. “How was lunch?”

“It was so yummy, Uncle Brian let me have ice cream.”

“But you ate all your lunch first right?”

“Sure,” She giggles, looking at Brian to make sure she answered the way he coached her to. The thumbs up she receives from the redhead makes her proud that she remembered.

Shawn rolls his eyes, turning back to Cez and the band. “I just wanna go through like a practice of what could happen if I’m needed after any song, okay?”

The band nods, getting set.

“Okay I guess to do this in a fast motion kind of way, let’s just play the last few chords of each song and pretend I’m running off and transition to each time block.”

Boss Shawn is kind of hard to take seriously when Skyla is tugging at his curls, trying to fix his hair up. Shawn moves her around, hauling her up onto his broad shoulders so he can have both hands free to direct people around. Skyla now has full reign to his curls, pulling them back and watching as they flop back into place.

The boys snicker as Shawn starts to hum the last parts to Lost in Japan. When the band doesn’t follow he turns to see them all chuckling.

“Yeah yeah, she’s cute, but we’ve got work to do. I want this figured out and perfect before the show tonight.” He snaps the boys back to reality.

“Sorry.” They all mumble.

They start going through every song, Zubin taking the time block, Eddie taking another, Mike after one, and then Dave. It runs smooth, and in any case scenario he knows the boys would pick up and take over when needed.

“Daddy,” Skyla taps the top of his head, making Shawn look up while Mike and Dave discuss a duo idea.

“Yeah Princess?”

“M’tired.” She rubs her eye, yawning big, Shawn’s hard boss attitude disintegrating at her cuddly complexion.

“Okay Princess, a few more minutes and we can go lay down.” He gives her grabby hands, knowing that she’ll lean forward to he can move her back to his hip. He kisses the top of her head as she hugs him, head tucked into his neck.

“We’re good?” He asks the band softly, getting their attention from the video Brian was showing them.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Mike nodded towards the wings that led to backstage where his greenroom was.

“Okay, see you guys in a bit.” He says before walking off, passing Andrew and Cez along the way, shaking his head when they try to get him to stop. “It’s naptime.”

They both nod in understanding, knowing that when the tour preparations started they all agreed that Shawn had the right at any moment in time to choose being a Dad over the Rockstar, and when he said the word they couldn’t argue with him anymore. This was one of those times.

He walked to the greenroom, closing the door behind him that way the building of the stage and the wildness of his team around him doesn’t wake his princess.

Sitting down on the couch he relaxed against the arm rest, adjusting a pillow under his neck, and then freezing when Skyla readjusted the way she was laying. Her head rest on his chest, small body laying on top of his like he’s her bed.

He smiles, because this was normal, he was used to being her bed when she needed him to be. Living the constant crazy traveling life with a five year old meant that sometimes things didn’t pan out, like her bedtime and a bed being in the same space.

She was already sleeping by the time he got settled.

To create some type of normalcy for Skyla during the tour, and to have her avoid the crazy that is her Dad’s fanbase, on performance days she’s goes out with Brian. An outing during the day, that way she’s not caught in the days work of preparing for the show. Meaning Brian takes her out of the arena, usually to lunch and a theme park. That way Shawn can be Shawn Mendes without the constant worry that Skyla is just in the other room and the what ifs that swirl around that idea.

They leave after the first soundcheck, that way Shawn can have a few moments with her before he has to get into his focus. They’re always back right after Q&A and meet and greets so Shawn can see her before going on stage. That way they can be back to watch the show.

Shawn waits by the back entrance doors, like he always does, right foot tapping as he chews on his pinky nail. The door starts to open and he stands up straight, smiling brightly when Brian walks in with Skyla on his hip.

“Princess!” He holds out his hands for her, and she leans away from Brian and towards her Dad.

“Daddy!”

“How was your day out?” He asks starting to walk back to the green room with Brian and Jake in tow.

“It was so fun Daddy, you should have seen it! I didn’t think I could go on the roller coaster, but Uncle Brian told me that I could do anything I’d ever want. So we did it! And I had so much fun!”

Shawn stares at her while she tells her story, smiling sadly at how he wasn’t there to see her overcome her fear.

“That’s so cool Baby, here,” He sets her down. “Can you go change for the show? I’ll be right here.”

She nods, running off to the bathroom to change into her dress for the show. Shawn turns to Brian with misty eyes once the bathroom door latches behind her.

“Shawn,” Brian shakes his head, noticing the little tears in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Shawn hugs him, giving himself a moment to breathe in a safe zone. “Thank you for being there for her when I can’t be.”

“You’re always there for her,” Brian responds. “Always.”

“Daddy! Tiffany told me that this dress matches your shirt! We’re matching!” She runs out of the bathroom, watching the boys push the other away. “Group hug?” She asks, nose scrunching in confusion.

Shawn laughs, “Yeah Princess, come on.” He hauls her up and the three have a group hug.

Before Shawn puts his in ears in to hear the call for him to go to stage he has his ritual moment with Skyla.

It’s become his good luck charm.

“Princess?” He crouches to her level, smiling when she looks at him with her wide chocolate brown eyes.

“Hi Daddy,” She smiles, stepping closer to him.

“Give me some luck?” He whispers, eyebrows raised.

She nods, leaning in to plant a small little kiss to his nose then jumping up into his arms, squeezing him tight.

He holds her just as tight, cautious not to squeeze her too much.

“Thank you Princess.” He hums, eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the moment.

“Shawn, in ears!” The stage hand calls.

He pulls away just enough to see her face, “Be good for Brian, stay where he and I can see you.”

“Yep!”

“I love you, have fun okay?”

“You too!”

He smiles, and leans in himself, letting his nose brush back and forth across hers.

With that he lets go, watching her walk to Brian before standing and slipping his in ears in.

“Keep this on your forehead okay? I need to call Andrew.”

“But it’s cold Daddy, it’s cold.” She whines, tears freshly running down her redden cheeks. She coughs, her whole body racking with the movement.

“I know Princess, but you have a fever which means that your body is too warm, and we need to cool it down.”

She frowns at him, still crying. “I don’t feel good.”

Shawn’s heart breaks as his babygirl cries, and he can’t do anything about it. Whipping his phone out of his pocket he clicks on his speed dial and is ringing Andrew up within seconds.

“You can’t leave Shawn, it’s not safe,”

“But she’s got a 101 fever, I can’t keep her here.” Shawn protests.

“I’ve got a pediatrician on the way, should be here in a few minutes, best in the town.”

Shawn’s looking at his baby who’s falling asleep in the hotel bed, hugging Elphie, her plush elephant.

“Best?” He chews on his lip.

“Only the best for Skyla, you know that.”

Shawn sighs, slumping against the wall, “How far away is she?”

“Should be here in ten minutes.”

“Okay, okay.” He nods, hanging up with Andrew and sitting beside Skyla, brushing his fingers through her hair.

He stews on his life for a moment, so utterly frustrated with the fact that his five year old daughter is sick, and the crowd of fans is so large outside the hotel that he cannot get out to take her to the hospital safely.

“I’m sorry Sweetheart,” He whispers, leaning over and kissing her burning cheek. “I’m sorry that my job put us in this position.” He continues.

She rolls into him, curling herself around his leg, resting her head in his lap.

In no time there’s a knock on his door, and then Andrew and a woman entering slowly.

“She’s asleep,” Shawn whispers as they walk in.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Kimberly.” The woman smiles, extending her hand to Shawn’s. “I heard we have a fever.”

“Yeah, she’s had it all day. I gave her some Motrin but it never broke.” Shawn blurs out.

“Okay, can I check a few things?” She asks, pointing to Skyla.

“Of course.”

After checking her up, taking her fever and testing for strep she’s come to the conclusion that it’s just the flu and an ear infection, prescribing some antibiotics.

Shawn thanks her as she leaves, closing the door and turning back to Andrew and Skyla. “Cancel the promo with Armani tomorrow.” He states, taking the bottle of liquid medicine to the bathroom, placing it on the counter next to their bathroom essentials.

“Shawn, it’s a live event.”

“And I don’t care.” He walks back into the room, shrugging as he checks the temp of the rag on her forehead, taking it in his hands and flipping it to the other cooler side.

“The fans-”

“She’s sick!” He whisper yells. “My daughter is sick, and you want me to go to some stupid watch event? No, cancel it. It’s not up for debate.”

It’s been about a week and Skyla is practically back to her usual self. She’s got a few more days on her antibiotics and that’s about it. Which means that the routine of tour is back on, and Shawn’s slowly getting back into the swing of working.

Because of some last minute changes flights have been rearranged which now leaves the team to a 5 am flight.

Skyla didn’t sleep well the night before, waking up twice from nightmares. So she’s been extra grumpy this morning. Clinging to Shawn, making it near impossible for him to do anything.

He sighs, turning to Brian for a minute. “Can you take her, I need to help Andrew check in bags and talk travel.”

“Yeah, of course.” Brian nods, holding his hands out for Sky. “Come here, let’s go get something to drink.”

As Shawn goes to hand her over she starts to protest, shaking her head and curling her little fists around Shawn’s sweatshirt.

“Princess go with Uncle Brian, I need to talk to Andrew.”

“No!” She shakes her head, pursing her lips.

“Skyla, let go.” He says again, giving her his Dad look, a warning that this was not a question.

“You can’t tell me what to do!” She raises her voice, starting to kick a little.

Shawn’s eyes widen, nostrils flaring.

“We’re gonna have a private chat if you don’t lose your tude Miss.”

She grumps, crossing her arms and glaring at her Dad. He sets her down, giving her a stern look before going to hand her off to Brian.

Brian goes to take her hand but she won’t uncross her arms so he leans down to pick her up. The minute her feet leave the floor she starts yelling, Shawn whipping around to see Brian struggling with her in his arms.

“Skyla Rae Anne Mendes,” He snaps, taking her from Brian, walking down the corridor with a whimpering Skyla in his arms until he finds a deserted area.

He sits her in a chair, crouching in front of her.

“Take a breath.” He instructs, taking one with her. “Let’s calm down.” Both of them taking another breath. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“No! I don’t want to!” She yells at him, full blown tantrum about to go down.

“That’s it,” Shawn shakes his head. “You’re grounded.”

At this, she freezes. Eyes wide and tearful as she looks up at her Dad, taking in the seriousness of his facial expression. He’s had it with her outburst, over the attitude.

“No, no, no.” She whines.

“7:30 bedtime, no TV and no games on anyone's phone.”

The tears start to fall as she begs for him to not ground her, repetition of ‘I’m sorry’ spilling from her pouty lips.

“Listen to me,” He stops her, taking her little hands in his. “You need to calm down, this behavior is not okay. You know that if something is wrong you can tell Dad, and you decided to not do that and instead throw a fit. Not listening and yelling at Dad is not okay, and that’s why you’re grounded.”

She nods, understanding that she did misbehave and that there’s no going back now.

“Do you need another minute or are you okay?” He asks.

She stares at him and nods, “I’m okay.”

“Can I have a hug?” He asks softly, smiling softly when she jumps up and wraps her arms around his neck, nuzzling into his coat.

“I’m sorry Daddy.”

“Okay Princess, let’s go find the boys.”

At this he picks her up and walks with her back to the group by the Starbucks at security. Brian gives Shawn a look that seems to ask if everything was okay and Shawn responds with a curt nod.

“We board in about 30 minutes,” Andrew says once they’ve gone through security.

Skyla sits next to Shawn, head rested on his arm as she stares at the world around her. Brian seems to notice her bored glance while Shawn and Cez discuss the next show’s arena.

“Sky,” He nudges her arm. “Wanna play a game?” He offers his phone that has since been loaded with games for her to play when they were in these kind of situations.

Skyla pipes up, eyes opening wider as she smiles at Brian. Shawn clears his throat and she looks over and catches his stare. She sighs, slumping back.

“Thanks Uncle Brian but I’m grounded. Maybe next time.”

Brian and the rest of the band turn to Shawn with wide eyes, all minds seeming to ask the same question.

Grounded?

He nods and goes back to his conversation with Cez, eyes planted on a coloring book in the little shop across from the gate.

Excusing himself, offering his hand to Skyla he takes her to the shop, letting her pick out a few books and some colors that way she has some fun things to do on the flight.

Dublin, night two, that’s when his requests for time blocks after every song just in case pulls through.

He’s in the middle of Stitches when he hears Brian through his in ears.

“Shawn, crowns fallen.”

Those are the code words, ‘Crowns Fallen’, to let him know that Skyla needs him backstage.

The second he hears those words his heart stops for a second, he looks around, giving the band the Skyla signal. Which is him tapping his nose, ear, nose.

The band jumps into action once they’ve all been given the signal, Zubin steps up, shredding on his guitar, jerking his head to side stage so Shawn gets the hint that they’re good.

And like Forrest Gump, Shawn goes running backstage, heels on his Chelsea boots slipping, causing him to roll his ankle and practically fall down the steps, the handrail the only reason why he caught himself.

“What happened?” Turns to anyone he can see first, the security guard pointing to Brian who is crouched in front of a sniffling Skyla. “Princess what happened?” Shawn slides to his knees next to Brian.

“I was dancing to Nervous,” She hiccups, Shawn’s sweaty curls bopping as he nods with her, “And I didn’t see my shoe was untied,” She takes a deep breath, “And I tripped over my shoelace, and I scraped my knee,” She wails, pointing to her bloodied knee.

Shawn sighs, relief flooding his system now knowing she’s not seriously hurt. “Okay Sweetheart, we can fix it. Let Daddy make it better.” He nods, turning to Brian. “There’s a small first aid kit in the strings compartment of my guitar case in my dressing room. Grab that for me?”

“Of course,” Brian jumps to his feet, sprinting down the hall since he knows Shawn’s on a time crunch.

“Princess can you sit down for me,” He pats the chair behind her. “And you,” He points to the security guard. “Can you get me a wet washcloth or a napkin or something?”

The security guard nods, disappearing down the hall as Brian comes sprinting back.

“Okay,” Shawn takes the first aid kit, opening the lid and looking at the tools he has. He then looks to her knee, noticing it’s just a small cut, nothing a band aid won’t fix right up. “Can you take a deep breath for me.”

Brian inhales a very deep breath, causing both the Mendes’ to look over.

“What?” Brian exclaims, “I’ve never seen her hurt before! And I’m in charge! I’m freaking out!”

“Okay, both of you, can you take a deep breath?” Shawn interrupts.

At this both Brian and Skyla take a deep breath in through their nose and out through their mouth.

By the time they’ve taken three deep breaths the security guard has returned with a wet napkin. Shawn takes it, wiping the blood and dirt away from her cut.

“Honey, what band aid do you want? Anna or Moana?” He asks as he gets the anti disinfectant wipe out.

“Moana!”

“Really? I was thinking Anna, she’s the best Princess.” He looks at her.

“No! Moana is Dad.” She disagrees.

“Oh yeah? Why?” He asks, hoping to get her real distracted before using the wipe that’s gonna sting.

“Well she sings better, and she can move water,” She starts on her list. “And her sidekick is a chicken?” At this Shawn swipes the wipe across her knee a few times, quickly tossing it away and tickling her calf so she won’t feel the sting as much.

“Wanna know a secret?” He asks as he gets the band aid out of it’s packaging.

“What?” She asks, watching him stick the band aid to her skin.

“You’re my favorite Princess.” He grins, looking up at her tear stained cheeks.

She giggles, shaking her head.

“I have to go back on stage, are you okay?”

“I’m perfect, you made it all better!” She stands, twirling around just to show him that she’s better.

“Okay good, I love you.”

“I love you!” She waves as he runs back to the stage, quickly picking up the show where he left off.

It can be rough when they’re all stuck on the tour bus, hours upon hours of driving to get to the next destination in time.

Shawn tries to keep it as fun and upbeat as he can, that way Skyla isn’t cooped up and bored out of her mind.

It’s why there are random sword fights, or hide and seek games started.

This morning it’s a tickle fight, and Shawn’s it. He’s gotta chase her around, find her, and tickle till she taps. It’s how it goes.

All that can be heard are two identical giggles, one just a bit higher pitched than the other.

Her little feet carry her to the other side of the bus, Shawn’s bigger frame leaving him to bump into everything, slowing him up as her small frame ducks and slides past everything.

But Shawn’s coming, she can hear the pounding of his feet getting closer to her, so she takes her last resort in her surroundings and climbs up into Andrew’s bunk, waking him in the process.

Shawn cringes, hearing the ‘umph’ come from the surprised Andrew.

“Shh, I’m sorry! But Daddy’s gonna catch me! I have to hide.”

“Okay, shh!” Andrew responds, making Shawn smile.

He waits a beat, playing. “Where did she go? It’s like she disappeared.” He says loudly outside the bunk. “How am I supposed to find her?”

He can hear her giggle, and Andrew shushing her. He counts to ten in his head and then grabs the curtain. “Ha! I found you!”

“AHH!” She yells, crawling over Andrew and right past Shawn’s outstretched hands down towards the kitchenette.

“Sorry about that, tried to keep her up front.”

“It’s okay, it’s time to get up anyway.” Andrew nods, “You better go, or you’ll actually lose her.”

“Shit.” Shawn mumbles, running back towards the front.

This show is more stressful than any other show he’s performed. Maybe it’s because he’s at Rogers Centre, or maybe it’s because John is here to perform ‘Where Were You in the Morning’ with him. But he’s overly stressed.

He’s pacing like a mad man when Brian pushes him into the couch.

“Chill out, okay?”

“It’s just-”

“I know,” Brian nods. “I know. But take a seat and breathe, or you’re gonna work yourself up even more. Sit with Sky and breathe okay?”

“Yeah you’re right.” He nods, looking to his girl that sits in the corner of the couch, watching a movie on Brian’s iPad, and drinking apple juice from her sippy cup.

Shawn takes a deep breath, leaning over and resting his head on her shoulder to watch a bit of her movie with her.

“What are we watching?” He asks.

“Incredibles 2.”

“Oh cool!”

He can tell that he favorite part is coming up, and he smiles already knowing that it’s gonna make her laugh really hard. That’s what he needs right now, a good ole laugh from his babygirl.

And right as the scene with Violet snorts the water out her nose, Skyla laughs so hard that she moves her cup to the side, effectively spilling the whole cup onto Shawn.

He jumps in shock as the lid to her cup lands on the ground, Skyla staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Skyla Rae!” He snaps, looking down at his now soaked button up.

“I’m sorry!” She blurts, pausing the movie and climbing off the couch to set the iPad on the table so it doesn’t get wet. She even goes as far as to grab the towel off the love seat and bring it to him.

“I’m literally about to go on stage,” He pushes the towel away, standing up and rushing to the door. “SOMEONE GET ME A NEW SHIRT!”

Skyla stands at the couch, bottom lip wobbling as a rush of people come running.

“I’m sorry Daddy,”

“I don’t have time for this, I’m about to go on stage.” He says again, walking with Tiff to wardrobe to see if they can put something together.

Brian walks in, taking in the dramatics and spotting Skyla with big tearful eyes. “Oh Honey.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” She cries. “I didn’t know the lid wasn’t on all the way. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Brian shakes his head. “Dad’s just really worried about the show, he didn’t mean it. It’s okay.”

With the rush of getting him cleaned and changed, and to stage in time, this show ends up being the first show that he doesn’t do his ritual with Skyla. He doesn’t have time. And that just makes her even more upset, because now she doesn’t have a chance to tell him how sorry she is before he goes on stage.

She watches him walk on, and sits on the ground to watch.

Brian stands behind her, arms crossed as he watches his niece tear herself up over something that wasn’t her fault. She’s right, she didn’t know the lid to her cup wasn’t on all the way, and if anyone is to blame it’s him. He’s the one who got her the cup, and set her up on the couch.

He takes a seat next to her, letting her rest her head against his arm. “You okay Bug?” He asks softly as she takes a shuddering breath.

“I didn’t give him luck.” She looks up at him with pursed lips.

“Want me to get him for you?” He asks, knowing that if he told Shawn she was upset he’d come running.

“No.” She shakes her head.

He has no idea why he was so stressed, this is one of the best shows he’s ever had and he’s only three songs in. The crowd is alive and louder than any crowd he’s ever heard before.

The smile can not be erased from his face, and knowing that his family and daughter are there for him is making this show that much better.

He looks over, knowing that ‘Nervous’ is Skyla’s favorite song to dance to, double taking when he doesn’t see her twirling like he usually does. He really has to focus, but he sees her.

It’s like his world stops for a moment when he spots her sitting on the ground next to Brian, head rested on his arm, pout settled on her lips. And it’s like everything hits him. He never got his luck, or his hug. He never even heard her laugh at that scene in the movie.

He gives the Skyla signal to Brian, who pulls out his walkie talkie. He stands, walking a little away from Skyla so she can’t hear him.

“She’s upset,” He says, watching Shawn’s reaction. Shawn turns to the band, ready to give them the signal too. “She said she doesn’t want you to come.” At this Shawn stops, turning back to Brian. “She thinks you’re mad at her.”

Shawn’s giving the signal before he can even blink. No way in hell was he going to allow his babygirl to think that he was mad at her.

He books it off stage, running to her.

“Princess?” He asks softly, watching her look up slowly with tearful eyes. His heart breaks at the sight. “No Honey.” He drops, sitting next to her. “I’m not mad.”

“I’m sorry.” Her trembling lips say.

“Oh Skyla,” He reaches out and takes her into his arms. “I’m not mad or upset Baby. I’m not.”

“I didn’t know the lid was off my cup, I’m sorry I spilled on you.”

“Honey stop, it’s okay.”

“You were upset.” She cries into his shoulder.

“Not at you,” He shakes his head. “Not at you, I promise. Could never be mad at my Princess.”

“Really?”

“Of course Baby.” He pulls back to look at her face. “Now,” He hums. “Give me some luck?”

She smiles, leaning forward to kiss his nose, and give him his big hug. “You have to go back.”

“I love you.” He tells her, brushing her hair back.

“I love you too.”

He sets her on her feet, taking her face into his hands, brushing his nose back and forth across hers and then planting a long kiss to her forehead. “I love you Princess.”

“Go be a Rockstar Daddy.”

He grins, kissing her forehead one more time and then running back on stage. The crowd erupts when they see him again.

“Hi!” He says into the mic. “Sorry about that.” He waits for it to die down. “It’s just, my daughter is here.” He points to his Princess in the wings. “And she needed me for a moment.” He sighs. “And having my daughter on tour with me is the greatest thing, because for me, it puts everything into perspective.

“Because when she says things like ‘Go be a Rockstar Daddy’ it reminds me of who I am. I wouldn’t be a rockstar without you guys.” He points to the crowd, who’s yelling and screaming. “But I wouldn’t be a Dad without her.” He points to his Princess. “And for me, there's a time and a place to be those things. When I’m here, on stage performing, that’s when I’m a Rockstar. But when I’m backstage, like I was earlier today, watching Incredibles 2, I’m a Dad. And her Dad should not have gotten so upset when she accidentally spilled her apple juice on him. But her Dad was in Rockstar mode. So he got upset which caused her to become upset.”

The crowd is aweing, and listening to him completely, taking in every word because it’s not often that Shawn shares stories like this about Skyla.

“So, that’s why, while I’m a Rockstar right now, I needed to take the time to go and tell her that I’m okay, and not upset. And I just wanted to say in front of all you, to her, that Baby I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I got upset, and I’m sorry I didn’t get to hug you before going on stage. And to apologize further I’d like to invite a very good friend on stage, to help me perform one of Skyla’s favorite songs, since she was a baby. Everyone this is ‘Daughters’, give it up for John Mayer.”

Skyla squeals from side stage, watching Uncle John walk on stage with his guitar and starting to play her favorite song.

“Sky,” Andrew taps her shoulder. She looks at him. “Go get your Dad.” He says pointing to Shawn.

She smiles, running on stage, the crowd becoming that much louder when they see her little body. Shawn turns at the sound, eyes widening when he sees his Princess coming towards him.

He smiles, crouching down to catch her, lifting her up so he can sing the next verse.

John gives her a toddler wave, blowing her kiss before taking over the next verse, singing to the Daddy Daughter Duo in front of him.

Shawn nuzzles into her cheek, letting the moment of being a Dad and a Rockstar consume him. All his dreams have come true.

“I love you Princess.” He says into her ears.

“I love you too Daddy!” Echoes throughout the arena.

1K notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 6 years ago

Text

Rising from the Ashes (20/21)

When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be.

And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: So, friends, this is the penultimate chapter! The next chapter is the epilogue with all of the happiness that this family deserves, so be looking out for that one! I’ll post when everyone has had some time to read this one! 💙

A special shoutout to @shady-swan-jones for prompting me this story back in November. I was going to write a one shot, never could figure out how to do it, and then posted the introduction to the one shot so I could encourage myself to keep writing it. Another shoutout to @wellhellotragic for helping me formulate ideas and for making sure everything made sense and another one for @bmbbcs4evr because she literally messages me after every chapter with detailed notes that point out little things that I figured no one would notice and flails over something that’s super angsty. And thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for simply being herself 😊

This has been such a difficult story to write, but I’ve really, truly enjoyed getting to put my heart into crafting it.

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @ultraluckycatnd @jamif @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @pirateherokillian @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64 @snowbellewells @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @idristardis @blowmiakisscolin

-/-

“Hey, Ems,” Neal smiles, looking for all the world like he belongs in this house while suddenly the place where she once felt safest no longer feels secure. Her heartbeat has picked up by a solid twenty seven more beats per minute, and her legs seem like flimsy toothpicks beneath her as she places her hand against Henry’s shoulder, the warmth of Killian’s hand on her back the only thing that seems not to be freezing her out.

She’s dreaming. She has to be dreaming. There’s no other explanation for any of this. She’s going to wake up in thirty seconds and Killian’s arms are going to be wrapped around her and the man who abandoned her isn’t going to be holding her daughter in the way that he never held his son.

Vomit makes its way up her throat, but she swallows it down and closes her eyes as she attempts to take one deep breath after another. The tension is practically rolling off of Killian, but he’s the ones who brushes by her first, quickly heading into the living room and pulling Neal into a hug only to come out with Ada held securely in his arms.

Good.

Okay, good.

That makes her breathe a little more easily, and when Killian nods at her, a soft smile on his face, she takes that as her cue to try to act as naturally as she can. It’s difficult figuring out what that is, especially since even if she didn’t know everything she knew, she would still be pissed at Neal and at their conversation from yesterday. Every bit of that was unacceptable, but she can’t knock the teeth out of his mouth with Henry in here.

She really wants to knock the teeth out of his mouth and possibly break a bone or two.

But she can’t. She can’t do any of that, and it’s so damn unfair. This man has made her love him time and time again, even if it has been in different ways, and then ripped her entire life out from underneath her. All she wants is to scream and yell and work out every bit of anger and resentment, but none of that is possible.

This man is her son’s father, and even if he is a criminal and an undeniable asshole, she cannot degrade him in front of Henry. Not yet. They’re going to have to have that conversation, but no part of her is ready for it.

And she imagines she can’t be ready until someone arrests her ex-husband.

What the fuck is her life?

“You look like a ghost,” Ruby laughs, and Emma blinks in response several times until her vision clears of the blurry tears and Ruby comes into view. She’d forgotten that Ruby was here. How did she forget that? Why didn’t Ruby text her that Neal was here? “Of course, I would too if my ex-husband showed up in my house,” she whispers in Emma’s ear, making her laugh even if she doesn’t know why.

“When did he get here?”

“About five minutes ago.”

She nods, swallowing her gulp again. “Thanks for watching the kids, Rubes. Were they good?”

“They were great. We got ice cream, like I promised, and then we did stop by my house to pick up some paints. They’ve both got a few pieces drying out on the back deck, so make sure to look out there and get them.”

“What’d you paint for me, kid?” she asks Henry, her voice cracking as she tries to smile at him.

“Dinosaurs. Ruby looked them up for me online and drew them for me before I painted them.”

“Well that’s nice of her. Why don’t you thank her before she leaves, okay? I’m going to go say hi to your dad.”

Henry nods before he starts chatting Ruby up like she hasn’t been with her all day. It makes her legitimately smile when she’s having a difficult time keeping control of any of her limbs, but she focuses on the way that Henry is currently happy and Ada is babbling without stopping to Killian as he sits with her on the couch all the while she steps closer to Neal and pretends that he doesn’t make her feel like she’s covered in a layer of un-washable grime.

Unlike Killian, she doesn’t have the wherewithal to give him a hug, so she steps in front of him and straightens her shoulders all the while he smiles down at her. She’s never found his smile creepy until this exact moment. Condescending, sure. Creepy, not at all.

“What are you doing here, Neal?”

“What? A man can’t come and surprise his son?”

“Not without talking about it to me first.”

Neal’s jaw ticks. “He’s my son. I can see him when I want to.”

“That’s not how parenting works when you don’t live in the same house, and you know it. I’m not asking for the world. I’m asking for you to give me a heads up before you show up at my house.”

“Thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Emma laughs, something dark and sadistic, and she has to reign herself in. She will not let Henry see everything right now. At least he’s still talking to Ruby. “Yeah,” she lies, forcing another smile onto her face, “I think you showing up here is the highlight of my day. How is it that you couldn’t make it up here on Friday like you were supposed to and yet you’re here today?”

“Change of plans.”

She clicks her tongue and crosses her arms over her chest before sitting down on the arm of the couch, all of the remaining strength in her body leaving her as the lack of sleep and stress catches up to her. “Well, I’m sure Henry is excited to see you. I’ll order some pizza for dinner, and you guys can watch a movie or something after he finishes his book report.”

God, she doesn’t want to deal with having to do a book report even if it’s for a third grade class.

Life goes on even when hers is falling apart, it seems.

“Dad,” Henry says, coming to stand between them as he bounces up and down on his toes, “I have to show you my room. I got new books. Come on.”

Henry tugs at Neal’s shirt, and Neal smiles before following him up the stairs, his footsteps leaving an imprint on each stair. She doesn’t really want him alone with Henry, but honestly, it’s a relief for the both of them to be out of the room so that she can breathe. Why can she still not breathe?

Leaning down, she props her head between her legs and places her hands on her neck to try to squeeze out the tension that’s remaining there. In muted tones she hears Ruby saying goodbye, her laugh the loudest part about it as she talks to Ada and Killian, and vaguely she realizes that Ruby is saying goodbye to her too. It’s difficult to get her voice to sound normal, to think straight as she hugs Ruby goodbye and promises that she’ll explain everything at work tomorrow.

Except she knows that she’s not going to be at work tomorrow. There’s no way.

As soon as the door clicks behind Ruby, everything becomes a little louder, Ada’s babbling clearer, and she walks into Killian’s side before he even gets the chance to lift his arm. She’s always been able to stand on her own, but sometimes she needs the support. Right now is one of those times. Killian lifts his arm out from between them and wraps it around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him so that she can feel all of his warmth as his lips press against her forehead. She nearly sobs at the feeling.

“It’s okay, love.”

“It’s n-not. How is he here? Why is he here? What are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll…I think that I’ll text David and let him know that he’s here, and he’ll talk to Graham. They might – Emma, they might not be ready to bring him in yet, and if that’s the case, I need you to act like nothing is wrong. If Neal gets a whiff of anything, if he knows that someone is on to him, I’m sure he has the resources to run.”

“Would he do that?”

“He’s done it before.”

She nods her head against his chest before pulling back and looking directly at Ada. It’s kind of like looking in a mirror, but right now her eyes show more blue than green, and her eyelashes fall darkly against her cheeks like Killian.

“Hey, bug,” she sighs, taking her in her arms and holding her. Her limbs are still shaking, nerves and tiredness winning over determination, but she knows that she has to push through this.

Nothing has ever completely knocked her out before. She can do this. She has to.

The entire night is this odd blur of confusion and anxiety and tenseness that can’t be fixed. Neal is acting like everything is normal, like he didn’t just show up at their house, like he isn’t a liar, like he didn’t try to cut Killian out of Henry’s life. She still doesn’t understand any of that. The man left her, left Henry, and yet he came back. Why in the world did he come back when he obviously wanted nothing to do with them? Why does he want something to do with them now, and what is his issue with Killian? If he didn’t care enough to come home, why would he care about Killian’s role in Henry’s life?

The only thing she can think of is jealousy, and that seems like the worst excuse in the world. He didn’t want her or want to be with her, and yet he’s acting like he has some right to the life they used to share.

Neal may not have died, but their old life is dead and buried in the ground far more than six feet under.

Instead of putting Ada to bed in her room, she lets her fall asleep on her chest, the small puffs of air more reassuring than anything, and throughout the night she never takes her eyes off of Henry to make sure that he’s okay. She’s sure that he’s safe, that they’re all safe in here, but her life has been so unpredictable that she can’t help the worry that is continuing to fester in the pit of her stomach as she waits to see just how much longer she’s going to have to live with Neal being back in her house.

When all of this is over, she wants to move. She wants to be away from this place. It has been her home, the place where she’s felt the most secure and the place where she conceived her daughter, but it’s been tainted by everything that’s happened over the past nine months.

Ada turns one in two weeks, and this is not a year that she wants to remember even though it will be inked like a tattoo on her brain for the rest of her life. Hopefully the bright spots will blur away the darkness.

It simply has to.

Neal doesn’t make any odd moves, doesn’t say anything else that is horrifically wrong, and from the outside looking in, he looks like a father who loves his son and loves spending time with his family. For all of the world, and most of the western world does know who they are if they watched the news at some point last year, they are some kind of perfect family who is making the best of a complicated situation. That’s what Neal put on in his interview, what he made everyone including her believe even if she’s never been under the impression of anyone being perfect, and now she wonders what parts of her life are still true.

Killian is true. He may have withheld things from her, and they may have their issues, but he’s real. And he’s not going to abandon her. Of that she is completely and totally sure.

Her children are true, her brother, her mom. She needs to call her mom and tell her that she loves her and thank her for helping to give Emma so many good parts of her life. No part of her would be the same with Ruth having adopted her, and even if it’s a shitstorm right now, it’s still good.

She has to have hope that it’s going to get better too.

“Alright, time to go to bed,” Killian yawns when the Lego Movie ends, their thousandth viewing of it finally over.

Henry groans and throws his head back against the couch. “Seriously?”

“Aye, you’ve got school in the morning, and I imagine that Mary Margaret won’t be too happy if you’re sleeping through one of her lessons.”

“I’ve done that before.”

Killian laughs at the same time that she does, and for the briefest of moments, everything feels normal again, especially when Henry slides down the couch cushions and is basically a noodle for forty five seconds until Neal scoops him up from the couch, standing him on his feet and placing his hand on his shoulders.

“I’ll put him to bed.”

“Thanks,” she says with a forced smile. How can he be acting so normally when everything is not normal? How has he spent nearly this entire time like that with only a few slip ups? “Goodnight, kid. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

She watches as Henry and Neal make their way up the stairs, the two of them peas in a pod, and her heart sinks again at absolutely everything. Henry is a smart kid. He’s going to understand a lot of the fallout of everything that’s inevitably going to happen, but he’s also still eight years old. There are a lot of things he’s not going to understand right now, but he’s going to understand them one day. The repercussions are going to follow him forever.

Can they still get that group rate on family therapy sessions?

Her sadistic jokes have got to stop.

Emma adjusts Ada on her shoulder, wondering when in the world she got so heavy, and carefully stands to join Killian in the kitchen where he’s putting away the leftover slices of pizza in a Tupperware container, neatly sliding it into its spot in the refrigerator before his phone chimes.

“Who’s that?”

He doesn’t answer, but she watches as his brows pinch together and the lines on his forehead all focus in on one area as the skin at his jaw convulses, Killian very obviously frustrated and focused.

She runs her hand over Ada’s back and takes a step closer to Killian. “Babe, what is it?”

“David says that Graham and some of his coworkers are going to come to the house to arrest Neal so they can question him.”

“What?”

“They’re – they want to move ahead with the investigation, to stop losing money on manpower. Apparently after talking to you they realized they weren’t going to learn anything new without Neal, and they’re willing to offer him some kind of fucking deal.”

Her heart is never going to take up residence in her chest again. It’s permanently going to live in the pit of her stomach and never return to its normal beating within her chest. At least it’s still beating because her breath has been escaping her all night.

“Right now?”

“Aye.” Killian nods his head before he drops his phone onto the countertop, the clanking loud against the marble, and he steps forward to wrap his arms around she and Ada, pulling her as flush against his chest as he can with their daughter in between them. She doesn’t even realize that she’s shivering until Killian rubs his hand up her back. He’s always doing that, and she needs him to never stop. “Take Ada upstairs, darling,” he whispers in her ear so that the warmth of his lips press into her skin and his beard scratches her. “Put her to bed and make sure that Neal is finished getting Henry to go to sleep. Our kids are going to be in bed when this happens, and when they wake up in the morning, nothing is going to be different for them, okay?”

“How do we tell Henry about any of this?”

“We’ll figure that out later. He doesn’t need to know right now. We won’t tell him until we have to.”

She nods her head against Killian’s neck and presses her lips against his collarbone. His arms fall from around her, and she moves toward the staircase to take Ada upstairs, hoping that she doesn’t wake up when Emma places her in her crib. She stirs a bit, but mostly she’s able to put Ada down without any fuss. She’s always loved this nursery, loved the calming neutral colors and decorations, and even though Ada spent most of her time in her bassinet in their bedroom, Emma can’t begin to count the hours that she spent in here nursing or reading Ada to sleep. Her baby is so full of innocence, of light, and she wishes for all the world that she could give that same innocence to Henry.

“I love you, bug,” she whispers to Ada, leaning down and brushing her lips against her forehead before pushing her hair back.

Swallowing the emotion in her throat, she walks out of the nursery and sees Neal closing Henry’s door. It’s something she grew used to in his time living here, and if she closes her eyes, it’ll be just like it was then. Neal will have read Henry one of his books, told him he loved him, and there would be no underlying history of betrayal. It would simply be a father loving his son.

But it’s not that. How can it be?

“Is he asleep?” she questions, trying not to let anything slip past that shouldn’t while she messes with the pendant on her neck, needing something to do with her hands once more.

“Out like a light. He kept talking about his goal from yesterday.”

“It was a good one.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

“Do you have tomorrow off of work too? When are you going home?”

Neal smiles and takes a step closer to her. She instinctively wants to take a step back, but she doesn’t. She holds her ground. “Why? You trying to get rid of me already?”

“Never. I’m glad you’re here for Henry.”

(Always. You’re a bastard, she wants to say.)

“I felt bad cancelling on him. You have to believe me on that.”

“I do. Let’s – ” she hesitates, turning her head to look back down the hallway toward the stairs, “ – let’s go downstairs. I want you to tell me a little bit more about work.”

Neal quirks a brow and tilts his head to the side, and a shiver runs down her spine in recognition that he’s studying her, that he realizes that something is off. Neal may have lied to her, may have hidden truths of his life, but they were still together for four years. He knows her, and it terrifies her that she’s somehow given something away that she’s not supposed to.

“You want to talk about my work?”

“It’s important to you.”

“Huh. I just thought I’d be in for more of a lashing because of yesterday.”

If only.

“I have nothing more to say about that,” she grits as she turns on her heel and starts to walk away so that she can compose herself. She has a hell of a lot more to say, but really, she knows that it doesn’t matter. Not now. “Come on. I’ll get you something to drink.”

She doesn’t turn around, but she can feel Neal’s heavy presence behind her, a continual hovering that weighs her down over time. That’s how he’s always been, and she’s been too naïve to realize it. It’s how he works, apparently. He’s nice enough, saying and doing all of the right things only to gradually break her down and make her feel worthless. But then he’ll be sweet, do something kind for Henry, and she forgets all of the snide remarks he’s made toward her.

That’s not okay. It never has been.

“Babe,” she calls when she gets to the bottom of the stairs, “will you get Neal some whiskey?”

“Aye.”

Her eyes follow Killian as he reaches up to grab a small glass out of the upper section of the cabinet. His muscles strain under the sleeve of his t-shirt, and her eyes fall to the dark hair that covers his forearms and the veins that lie beneath them. His shirt rises to show his stomach and the strong lines there that dip into his sweatpants. Her limbs are still shaking, goosebumps covering her arms, but Killian is steady. He’s always steady.

Right now she feels so incredibly weak, but really, she knows that she’s rarely had to be this strong.

Slowly but surely Killian pours all three of them glasses of whiskey, the liquid sloshing into the glasses, and when she’s handed hers, it takes everything in her not to gulp it all down so she can feel the harsh burn of it falling down her throat. Her gaze watches her drink move, the slow steadiness of it, and she takes pleasure in the consistent back and forth movement. In the back of her mind, she knows that she, Killian, and Neal are having a conversation. She can hear her words in her own head, hear the forced sound of Killian’s laugh, and then hear the quiet murmuring of Neal’s voice.

Mostly, though, she hears the click on the door as it opens, the crunch of boots as Graham walks into their house with a woman she’s never met following behind him, and she hears Neal cursing and questioning what’s happening before suddenly legal rights are being read over the clink of handcuffs snapping together.

That’s when the muted sounds stop, when everything comes back to full volume, and she listens to the familiar sound of Neal’s voice, the one she only heard in her dreams for eight years, and the unfamiliar sound of Graham’s voice as he continues to explain what’s happening. The woman, Agent Fa apparently, thanks she and Killian for their assistance, tells them that they’ll be able to get more information tomorrow, and then she’s gone too, closing the front door behind her and letting it click into place.

She places her drink on the counter, the whiskey untouched despite her desperate desire to drink it, and it takes one and a half steps for her to fall into Killian and rest her head on his shoulder, burying her nose into his shirt so that she can smell the faintest whiff of the detergent they use. It’s that familiarity, that normalcy of the smell that grounds her as her arms tighten around his stomach and his come to rest on her back again. This time they don’t move, they don’t rub her back to reassure her. They simply stay still, a warm presence when she feels so incredibly cold.

“I love you. I’m so proud of you,” Killian mumbles into her neck, and she nods her head in response as she feels a tear slip from her eye quickly followed by another until she’s uncontrollably sobbing, every single part of today and yesterday and the past twelve years of her life coming back to her while Killian finally rubs her back up and down. “You are so brave, my love. Undoubtedly the strongest person I’ve ever come across in my life.”

She chokes on one of her sobs, air struggling to get to her lungs, and she knows that she’s got to be wiping snot on Killian’s shirt from how she can’t stop her body from falling apart.

She’s thirty one years old, and she’s lived five lifetimes worth of pain.

“Shhh, shhh,” he comforts, his hand now moving against her back, patting her every time she gasps for breath, “I have got you, Emma. I’ve got you.”

No part of her misses that he doesn’t say that she’s okay, that it’s okay, and she takes comfort in that too. There’s no point in lying.

“I love you,” she gasps in a quiet whisper that he most likely can’t hear over her. “I – don’t…I’m…can we – I really need to go to bed,” she finally gets out as she pulls back to look at Killian through her blurry vision. She blinks through the tears, trying to clear her vision, and Killian moves one hand up her arm until he’s wiping away her tears with his thumb so that she can see the tears falling down his cheeks as well.

“Let’s go to bed,” Killian agrees, and she can’t help herself from pressing up on her toes and kissing away the tear staining his cheek.

The next day is the most difficult day, she thinks, because she spends the entire day wondering what exactly comes next and wondering if she’s ever going to get the answers she craves. It almost feels similar to how she felt when she was told that Neal couldn’t be found, that he’d disappeared, that he was most likely dead. She knew for sure that he was dead, that he was gone, but the way that there were no definitives made the tiniest glimmer of hope radiate from within.

Now all that radiates is dread.

They take Henry out of school that day, she and Killian call in sick, and after they tell Henry that Neal had to go home early, his brown eyes full of disappointment, she and Killian take the kids to Willard beach, packing up a picnic and beach toys to entertain everybody since it’s still a bit too cold to get into the water despite it being early May. Henry is definitely a little down at first, the highs and lows of thinking his father is going to be around only for him to be gone the next day definitely taking a bit out of him, but when they get onto the sand and Killian starts kicking a ball back and forth with him, he seems to forget, especially when Killian purposefully kicks the ball far enough away that Henry is running with all of the speed that his legs will allow him. He runs back, red faced with his hair all a mess, but he’s smiling.

Her little boy is smiling, and that’s all that matters.

Ada keeps trying to stand only to fall down into the sand, the uneven surface not good for her as she tries to walk (oh man is Emma not ready for that for whenever it comes), and Emma spends her time helping Ada out as much as she can but mostly lifting her in the air and making her giggle as she listens to her daughter babble every little word and sound she knows.

It lifts her in ways she never thought possible.

For a few hours she forgets everything that’s going on in a police department downtown and forgets everything that’s happened in the past forty eight hours. These three people in front of her that are making her laugh as mustard gets stuck on Killian’s beard and Henry sticks his tongue out to make his little sister laugh are making her see that there is such good in the world that makes everything else seem a little less harsh.

At least for now.

Three days later the news breaks that Robert Gold has been arrested at his home in London, and it’s all a spiral from there. She and Killian have to explain to Henry what is going on, and she adds it to the list of the hardest things she’s ever done. He doesn’t understand, even when they break it down into the simplest of terms, and the first hour of the conversation is spent with him yelling at the two of them telling them how they’re liars and that his dad would never do anything, that his dad is a hero. It’s what they’ve told him his entire life, and it’s an awful dose of reality having to explain that heroes fall and that dads aren’t infallible superheroes even when it seems like it a lot of the time.

Her heart shatters once more, the pieces becoming a little more broken, and when Henry finally stops yelling, finally stops being angry at her, he falls into her arms and sobs as loudly as she’s ever heard him sob. His small frame shakes in her embrace, and no matter how tightly she holds him she can’t get it to stop.

She may be shaking too.

Emma promises that she loves him, promises that he is a good kid with a good heart, but all of her words seem to fall flat to a kid who’s finding out that his dad, the one he just got to know, is going to be in prison for the foreseeable future.

It’s twelve years.

That’s the deal he made with the FBI or Interpol or whoever the hell it is in charge of his case in exchange for giving details up about his father. David tells her that when he, Mary Margaret, Leo, and Ruth come over for dinner to try to distract Henry from everything that’s going on. Maybe to distract she and Killian too. David says things factually, Mary Margaret overly worries about if everyone is eating and drinking enough, and Ruth stays being the calm in the storm. It’s difficult dealing with all of these people worrying about her, especially when her natural tendency is still to close herself off and deal with it on her own, but they help. And weirdly, she holds herself together until Killian is video chatting with Liam to give him an update on what’s going on and she sees Caleb in the background lining up cars in a neat row.

She sobs once more, covering her mouth with her hands, as she looks at how at home that kid is. In all of this mess she hasn’t properly had time to talk to Liam and Belle, to let them know how happy she is for the two of them, and seeing them with their son breaks her down to her core.

“Birdie,” Liam coos, concern filling his voice while that same concern fills Killian’s eyes. “Lass, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, really unsure of why exactly she’s crying. She takes a step into Killian’s space and settles down on his lap while his arm comes to wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against his body as his chin rests on her shoulder, beard scratching her skin. “I’m just so happy for you guys, and I really want to hold onto my nephew. Hi, Caleb.”

Caleb looks up at her from his spot and smiles, giving her a frantic wave before he goes back to playing.

“You can’t take him away from his cars,” Liam explains, the smile on his face exactly the same as the one that Killian gets when he’s thinking about their kids. The similarity would be weird if it wasn’t so heartwarming. “He loves the things. And trains, though he doesn’t seem to like riding on them.”

“That’s pretty much how it works,” Killian laughs as he presses a warm kiss into her cheek, making her close her eyes as a slight smile forms on her lips. “Ada loves messing with her bows when they’re on the ground, but if I put one in her hair it’s like I’m the worst person in the world.”

“Where is she? I need to see her on her last day before she turns one.”

“She’s napping,” Killian sighs. “Am I not good enough to talk to you?”

“Never. Though Emma does help. She’s always elevated you.”

“Amen,” she and Killian laugh at the same time, and the comfort of it has her leaning back to rest her cheek against his while he taps his fingers against her upper thigh, squeezing the slightest bit. “We’re going to come see you guys when life is a little less crazy, okay?”

“Take your time, Birdie. We’ll always be here.”

They talk for a few more minutes before Liam has to go, and when the conversation is over, she takes a deep breath, the air around her lighter than it has been in twelve days.

“We need to bake Ada’s birthday cake.”

“Aye. We could always buy one. There’s a bakery ten minutes away.”

She places her hands over his on her stomach and pats down. “I made Henry’s first birthday cake. I want to make Ada’s even if I’m still not the best baker.”

“It’s a good thing you’ve got me then.”

“Hmm, probably the best thing.” She twists her head until she can slide her lips over Killian’s, their mouths lightly brushing over each other for a minute until she pulls back. “And I want to get all of the decorations up tonight because I’m not going to be here in the morning.”

“We can do that. Are you – do you still want to go? You don’t have to.”

“I need to.”

Killian nods against her forehead, every word he says making his lips brush over hers. “I know. I can come in with you.”

“No, no. I want to…Killian, I need to do this one thing alone.”

“Of course,” he says, kissing her one more time in a way that makes her stomach melt. “I’m going to go get Henry so he can help us with the cake.”

“That sounds good.”

It’s a bit of a mess baking the cake, especially when Killian and Henry keep swiping icing out of her bowl, but they do make progress on Ada’s lady bug cake. She’s turning one and won’t care what kind of cake she’s eating as long as there’s sugar involved, but this is her baby, her little lady bug, and dammit if Emma’s not going to make sure she has a good first birthday. Her boys end up being bigger helps than she expects, and Henry has a great time placing the black dots onto the rounded red cake. Just like everything else they’ve been doing, it takes her mind off of everything.

Seeing Henry be happy makes all of the difference to her when he’s been having a really difficult time. Dr. Hopper tells her that he’s handling everything as well as can be expected, and she has to take comfort in that. Dr. Lawrence says the same thing about her, and yet it’s still harder for her to accept that.

“You’re a regular star chef,” she tells Henry, wiping a bit of icing off of his face.

“I am pretty good, aren’t I?”

“Fantastic. I think your sister’s going to love this cake even more because you made it.”

“She’s a baby, Momma. She doesn’t care.”

“But she loves you,” Emma promises, pulling him into her side and pressing a smacking kiss into his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Can I go outside now?”

“Of course, kid. Let me get some sunblock on you, though.”

“Mom,” he groans, resting his head against the countertop in despair. “I don’t need it.”

“Yes, you do, lad,” Killian adds in. “Unless you want to end up all shriveled and wrinkly like a raisin.”

“I like raisins.”

Killian rolls his eyes before winking at her. “You’re wearing sunscreen. Let’s go.”

The baby monitor goes off to show that there’s movement in the nursery, and she opens up the app on her phone to see Ada propping herself up on the crib grabbing at her mobile to reach for the little red crabs. She’s cried so much more than any human being should cry recently, and even though she knows she’s going to be emotional over her kid turning one, over the memories of that day nearly three hundred and sixty five days ago, it’s a good kind of emotional. She’s here and alive and healthy as can be.

She and Killian did a good job when it comes to that chubby-legged menace even if one day she’s going to turn on them and try to get out of having to wear sunscreen.

Among other things.

After spending the rest of her day with her family, keeping things as normal as possible, she has a restless sleep, constantly tossing and turning around on the mattress. At one point, Killian tugs her into his front and wraps his arm around her middle while sticking his legs between hers, and she knows it’s because she’s driving him crazy with her basically running a marathon while in bed. It helps to feel his solid warmth behind her, but when Killian falls back asleep, his grip on her relents and she keeps moving. In the morning, she knows that she’d eventually fallen asleep because of the way she jerks when the alarm goes off, and even though she needs more rest, she immediately gets up and takes a shower, readying herself as if she was getting ready for her daughter’s first birthday party this afternoon.

Once she’s dressed, eyeliner applied to her eyes and her natural waves curled a little more, she quietly pads down the hallway and into the nursery to see Ada. She’s still asleep, her lips curved into a serene smile, and all Emma can do is lean down and press her lips to Ada’s forehead once more before she walks down the hallway only to find Killian standing against their bedroom door with his hair sticking up in several different directions and his arms crossed over his chest, one brow raised on his forehead.

“Did you really think you were going to slip out without me knowing?”

“I was coming back to tell you I’m leaving.” He nods his head, and she steps into his space, placing her hands against his chest so that she can feel the beating of his heart as she looks up at his tired eyes. “I’m going to be back before two, and we’re going to go on with our day like nothing out of the ordinary happened.”

“You’re going to talk to Neal in prison. That’s not ordinary.”

“I need answers, Killian. He may not give them to me, but I have to ask. I deserve to know.”

“I can still come with you. Ruth can watch the kids.”

“I still think I want to do this on my own, but thank you.” She presses up on her toes and slowly slides her lips over his in a gentle caress. “I love you, and I’ll text you when I get there and when I leave, okay?”

“Alright. I love you too.”

She studies Killian’s face for a moment more, making sure that he’s okay, before patting his chest and stepping away so that she can go downstairs. For as weirdly calm as she is, she doesn’t want to risk anything by putting too much on her stomach or drinking enough caffeine to make her jittery, so she simply grabs a water bottle and her keys before leaving the house. It’s an hour and a half drive to New Hampshire, and despite her running into a bit of early morning traffic, she makes good time.

Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, she doesn’t know, but she’s in the prison’s parking lot thirty minutes before visitors are allowed in.

There’s something she never thought she’d think.

She texts Killian that she’s here, and leaves her phone in the car before going inside and going through security after filling out all of the paperwork. It’s insane, but being here makes her feel better than she did last night. Worrying makes the reality worse before reality even gets a chance to happen, but that’s never stopped her from tossing and turning at night.

Obviously.

When she’s told that she can go inside the room, she takes a deep breath to settle the still nervous set of her stomach and finds herself settling down onto one of the center tables while the other people fill in the spots around her. A ringer goes off, a harsh buzz surrounding her, and her head turns to the side as a sliding door opens and several men in gray jumpsuits walk out. She doesn’t recognize any of them, wouldn’t expect herself to, and for a moment she thinks that Neal isn’t going to come and talk to her until he rounds the corner and enters the room after a guard.

It’s…she doesn’t like seeing him like this. He was wrong, is a criminal who hurt a lot of people even if he wasn’t actively hurting them, and he hurt her in a way that’s permanently going to affect her, as well as Henry. She’s so undeniably pissed and broken, but there are still good memories of him buried not too deeply in her brain.

She’s a mess.

Unlike a lot of other people in the room, she doesn’t get up to hug him. Instead she stays sitting and nods while he cautiously slides onto the bench in front of her with his unshaved beard and unruly hair.

“Never thought I’d see you,” he greets, curving the right side of his lips into a smile that she doesn’t return.

“Surely you didn’t think that I was never going to come.”

“Didn’t think you cared about me anymore.”

“Whether I like it or not, Neal, a part of me will always care about you,” she admits, leaning forward and placing her joined hands on the table. “How are you doing?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been in captivity, and honestly, this is a hell of a lot nicer than the first time.”

He’s trying to joke, probably to cut away some of the tension between them, but to her, all it does it make it grow.

“Why’d you do it?” she blurts out, figuring that she may as well get straight down to why she’s here. She’s got other things to do today, and if she’s not going to get her answers, she doesn’t want to wait.

He shrugs on the other side of the table, the wood dividing them in more ways than one. It’s still so surreal that this is happening. In all of her wildest dreams (nightmares), this was never one of them. There was never one even similar to this. This is…this is the absolute last place she ever expected to find Neal.

“I wasn’t always a bad guy, Ems.”

She flinches at that, but she also knows that it’s true. He wasn’t. He’s never been the best man in the world, but she loved him. She loved him before he died and she loved him in a way when he came back and got to be a part of their lives, even if it caused them all problems for a little while. But he was alive, he was here, and she was happy to have him home.

But that was then. She isn’t any longer.

“No, you weren’t,” she agrees, giving him a soft smile even if her heart feels hardened over it all, the smile more forced than anything. “But you abandoned me, Neal. You abandoned your son. A part of me doesn’t even care about all of the arms trafficking, which, holy shit is that fucked up on so many levels, but you left us. You told me over and over again that you loved me, and you left us. Why?”

His shoulders sag, his back falling toward the open air instead of leaning forward. She honestly didn’t expect him to talk to her at all, but she needed to know answers. She can’t live without them again when she’s already spent so much of her life that way when it comes to her birth parents and the eight years that Neal was gone. She deserves more, always has, and one day when Henry is older and can understand all of this, he deserves more too.

“I really was captured,” he starts, drumming his fingers on the table so that she focuses on his fingers instead of his face. “That part is true, Ems, you have to believe me. I was captured and tortured and beaten, and even though I was a shitty husband to you at the end, I did think about you and Henry to get me through it all. But then my dad – he made a deal to get me out, and I had the opportunity to come home to you guys. I was going to, but I…After everything that happened, I just needed a fresh start. I could have everything, all the things I couldn’t have at home by staying and working with my dad. I could have freedom and money and – ”

“Women who didn’t have abandonment issues and a newborn baby.”

“Ems.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

His lips part before snapping shut again, a subtle nod of his head. It’s almost like he’s accepted what’s happening, that he’s not going to deny it, and of everything, that shocks her most of all.

Asshole.

“What do you want?” he finally says.

“The truth.”

“It’s not simple.”

“I just want to know, Neal. I get it. You’re selfish. You wanted a new life where Henry and I weren’t going to hold you back, and your apparently alive father helped you out with that because he freaking had contacts with actual terrorists. I don’t – you don’t need to break my heart again by telling me that you abandoned me and lied to me when you knew I had issues with that. But I do need to know why you came back. And damn it, if you have any decency at all, I need you to tell me about all of that so I can stop wondering.”

His jaw ticks, but he nods his head anyways and she feels such apprehension but mostly relief that she gets to know.

“My dad and I had a plan. We knew if I came back home and everyone thought I’d survived for nearly a decade under captivity, I’d be hailed as some kind of American hero. It’s why I did the interview, why I continuously sought out the attention. I wanted people to know my name because our goal was Congress.”

Congress, she thinks. Why would his goal be Congress? How would that…

“You bastard. That’s why took the job in the State Department. That’s why you were so insistent on moving back to DC even though we had a life in Portland. What was the plan? Schmooze politicians and try to change laws for some kind of way to make your dad’s business bigger?”

He shrugs again, and she knows that she’s right. “That’s the gist of it, but me working at the State Department was a bit of a roadblock. I – I didn’t know that you were with Killian. I checked to see if you had remarried, but since you guys aren’t married, there was no record. I didn’t think to check for kids. I didn’t…I figured you hadn’t moved on from me, so I came back. We were going to be reunited, and it was going to be this big thing where our family made us this kind of all American dream that helped propel me more toward a role in Congress so I could make contacts in the government and help ease our sales.”

“You don’t need to sugarcoat it. You haven’t with anything else. Bribes. That’s what easing sales means, right? And what, you thought that I was sitting around waiting for you for a decade? How self centered are you?”

“I missed you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I did.”

“You left me, Neal,” she yells, making everyone in the room look at her before she quiets her voice. “There is no changing that. You abandoned your family, and I mourned you every day of those eight years. But I also grew the hell up, realized how shitty you treated me, and I allowed myself to find happiness again. Happiness that you didn’t seem to care about and yet suddenly resented when you found out I had it with someone else. And now you’re telling me that you were going to use me? You were going to use us to paint this pretty portrait to further your business and to seriously fuck up an already fucked up system? That’s – that’s…you’re a dick. I can’t even believe any of that, and yet I can. After all of this I can. I mean, God, you don’t even care about me or Henry, and yet you pulled all of that shit about how you are Henry’s dad and Killian isn’t. You tried to poison that kid against the man who raised him out of some petty jealousy, and I…did you ever even love me?”

She doesn’t know how she got that question, not really, but deep down it’s been blazing its way to the surface, breaking its way through every other muddled thought that she’s been pushing down.

She’s not even sure if she wants to know the answer.

“I’ve always loved you even if I didn’t know how to show it. I’m a selfish man, Emma. I always have been. My father is too, and it’s the only thing I ever knew growing up. I guess I couldn’t help myself. But yeah, I fucked up. I fucked it all up, and none of it worked. I’m…I guess I’m sorry that I dragged you all into this, but you were never supposed to find out about my dad or that I hadn’t been in captivity the entire time. It was part of why I was distancing myself from you guys. Yes, it was to go along with the plan, but I also didn’t want Henry to get hurt. And I guess I let myself have feelings for you again, and I was pissed that I couldn’t have you and couldn’t have the relationship Henry has with Killian.”

“That’s your own damned fault.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“I don’t think you know anything about what it’s like to have a family.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

She laughs, one of those dark laughs that makes her own skin crawl, and while she’s trying to contain herself, she rubs the heels of her hands just below her eyes. When her chest has stopped heaving, the rage calming itself for a minute, she looks directly into the eyes of the man who she once loved more than anyone in the world.

“I know more about family than you ever have, and I may screw up a hell of a lot, but I would never abandon the people I love for some money and the ability to fuck around. I would never abandon them for anything.” Emma presses her lips together before standing from the bench and leaning forward on the table. “You know, all that time that you were gone I wished you were alive, but now, I wish you were dead.”

With that, she gets up and walks from the room. He doesn’t deserve more of her time, and she doesn’t need anything else from him.

Walking out of the gates of the prison and loading up into her car is exhilarating, and as she drives down the open highway with music blaring through the speakers, she feels free. She hadn’t realized that she felt trapped until now, but the shackles that have been holding her down are no longer binding. She knows that this is all something that’s going to stay with her for the rest of her life, but that doesn’t have to stop her from living.

When she gets home, she quickly parks in the garage and steps through the door into the kitchen. There’s a spread of finger foods on the island that makes it look like it’s a Saturday and Killian is having his friends over to watch a soccer match with Henry excitedly following him around wearing whatever jersey he’s decided on today, and she smiles a little as she picks up a carrot and dips it into the sauce that’s in a bowl. Killian took the day off of work today so she could go see Neal and so they could have everybody over this afternoon for Ada’s party.

“Babe,” she calls out, grabbing another carrot and walking to the living room where she finds Killian laid out on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest and Ada sleeping in just her diaper on top of him. “Kid,” she asks Henry as he sits quietly reading his book in the arm chair, “why in the world is your daddy asleep?”

“He said that hosting people is exhausting, and he needed to nap with Ada.”

She hums in acknowledgement and walks over to Henry, shimmying down to sit in the chair next to him and wrapping her arm around his shoulder. “What have you guys been doing all day?”

“Getting ready for Ada’s party. I wanted to see if I could catch real ladybugs outside, but Dad said I couldn’t put them into the food.”

“Gross.”

“No, cool.”

“We’re not eating bugs.”

“But what’s the point of having a ladybug party if there are no bugs?”

“Because it’s cute, and it’s our nickname for Ada. But for your birthday, if you want to have a bug themed party, we’ll have lots of bugs…just outside, okay?”

“I think I want to go out on a boat for my party.”

“We should definitely do that,” Killian pipes in, sitting up on the couch and sliding Ada down onto his lap.

“Oh look, Henry, you said the magic words to wake your dad up.”

“Ha ha,” Killian mocks, rolling his eyes before he rubs the sleep out of them. “When’d you get home, love?”

“About three minutes ago. I’ll tell you about everything later, but I think right now we have to go get my bug dressed for her party.”

“What? The diaper look doesn’t work for you?”

“Only when we’re eating the cake.”

Emma takes Ada from Killian and walks her upstairs to change her diaper and get her dressed in the romper Emma has for her. It’s a hassle, but she gets the headband on her too, brushing back her slight curls as she tells Ada the story of the day she was born. She does the same thing with Henry, even if she has to embellish the details, and she takes the time to appreciate that Ada can’t complain about Emma getting all sentimental as she talks about that painful, magical day. Ada will hate hearing about one day, but it’ll forever be one of the best days of Emma’s life.

Her mom, David, Mary Margaret, and Leo show up an hour later, Ruby, Robin, and Roland following behind them as well as a few of Henry’s friends from school that she told him he could invite. Everyone is aware of what’s been happening lately, most of them intimately so, but none of them mention it as they laugh and talk and have the carefree time that she’s wanted for today. Ada loves all of the attention, really hams it up for everybody, and she laughs at her continuously trying to steal everybody’s food even if Henry is the one actually swiping food.

But eventually it’s time for Ada to finally get to smash into her birthday cake – because what better idea is there than giving a child that much sugar – and she, Killian, and Henry crowd around Ada’s high chair so that Mary Margaret can take a picture of the four of them before Killian lights the candle and they all sing. For the briefest of moments, she looks over to Killian, and he winks in return before threading his fingers through hers.

When the song is over, everyone claps, Ada moving her hands along with them, and Emma leans down to blow out the candle for Ada, extinguishing the light on the completion of one year and signaling the beginning of a new one.

#rising from the ashes #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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lady-plantagenet · 5 years ago

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Chapter 3 of a Bygone Era -

A Fictionalised Account of Isabel Neville’s life from the point of view of her and those close to her.

Points of view written so far include Anne Beauchamp, Anne Neville and George Duke of Clarence.

26 June 1465 - George Plantagenet, Duke of Clarence

The ride beyond the Yorkshire Dales was more than any reasonable man could endure and George’s spirit waned with each passing of the moon. Now arrived, he was glad to be relieved of his riding habit. The summer sun looked upon him, setting his glossy green silk aglow, elevating the golden weaved threads to a glimmer and his persona to a countenance so divine, Paris himself would have payed homage had they encountered.

Now, his cousin of Warwick requested his presence for a private audience before the dinner and George despite his wishes could not feign ignorance to himself. After all the noble blood of the land has been mingled with the Rivers, he intends to woo me himself, for Isabel. He set his cup of Rumney wine on the painted table of his chamber wondering what possessed Warwick to have his wines brought from Wallachia of all places. Mayhaps he has even befriended the Impaler himself. There is not a road in christendom left unexplored by the shadows of his ambitions.

Realising it was nigh time he appeared for the audience, he made his way past the stony winding stairs of what was unofficially called the Guy de Warwick tower and across the gleaming inner court, beset with a sea of jade shards bobbing to the wind in a biddable manner, until he reached the threshold of The Maiden tower. A wry chuckle escaped George. The choice of meeting amused him nearly as much as his lodging arrangements. The thematic allusions to the ancient Neville tale of Guy of Warwick and The elusive and noble Lady Felice did not elude him. While awaiting his receipt, he wondered whether ballads still held court in Isabel’s heart.

A servant he did not recognise before beckoned him into a suffocating chamber of cream and steel where George to his surprise was faced with the Countess of Warwick sitting beside her husband, as if they were a king and queen holding court. So this is how royalty ought to look. George thought back to his brother’s court and how the new queen’s striking beauty and liveliness did not sit well with the austere and mystical nature expected of one who claimed the sacred place next to an anointed king. The Countess, however, appeared as if a part of the room as a whole, as would the queen of heaven in a nativity tableaux.

As he knelt for each of their blessings reminiscent of a bygone era of peace and childhood, he rose with a solemn smile. To his discomfort the Earl and Countess did not avail the room of its stilted atmosphere with their faces remaining taut like sheets of ice.

‘George we are honoured to be having you here again and with us for near a fortnight, truly much time has passed since you were under our guardianship and a mere lad in the courtyard sparring with play swords’ said the Earl neutrally ‘however the time has come for me to address an issue that we had near no time to discuss while at court.’

What in the heavens could he be referencing? I do not remember exchanging anything but pleasantries with him. Best keep my mouth shut and refrain from guessing or else I may be held to have had expressed my willingness to carry out something I would ne’er do.

The Earl was waiting expectantly. George could not help himself and blurted: ‘My sister Margaret is arranging a marriage between myself and Mary of Burgundy, which she hopes will result in a double alliance between our realms when her own betrothal to Charles I is underway’. Just to think! Margaret and I living in the most marvellous court in Europe and when the Duke’s recklessness resolves in death, her and I can rule the Low Countries like two kings. ‘ And so, before you ask me to wed Isabel, I tell you that I cannot regardless of what you may think you have heard me say at court.’

The Earl let out a full-throated laugh so strong that his whole body appeared to be shaking. Even the Countess stifled a chuckle behind her long ringed fingers. Half a minute went by and the Earl’s head was snapped back in roaring laughter revealing the roof of his mouth, which in this moment was opened so wide it resembled a scarlet cave.

George could not understand what was so funny.

‘George, I am not your doting nursemaid concerned with your heart or an up-jumped merchant who is trying to seduce you with sweetmeats to cajole you into a coupling with my daughter, by entrapping you into my home.’ The Earl began. Laughter still seemed to coat his voice like sugary water hiding overlying vinegar. The incredulous tone denoted an arrogance such that it arose an eyebrow even in the Earl’s wife whose reputation for haughtiness cast a shadow that outran even the borders of her own lands.

George looked at the Countess expectantly - the woman who he loved very nearly as much as his own mother. The woman who never derided him for fidgeting with his book of hours during mass, the woman who applied salve to his wounds when he would constantly fall out of bed and vouched for him that they were earned on the sparring field, in order to shield him from Rob and Thomas Parr’s cruel derision and the potential of Isabel’s incisiveness. He peared down at the forest green of his doublet sleeve in shame. Shame for holding the Countess anywhere near in affection to his own wimple-wearing mother, whose frankness and coldness, though honest, rarely elicited charm.

‘And what you are trying to say cousin is that it is I that should be beseeching you to give your Isabel in marriage to me. That I was invited here to offer myself up in exchange for an honour much above me’ George’s face was puffing up into a crimson that stood out markedly against the cold watery colours of his doublet and cape. ‘You forget that though you may have made my brother king, you did not make me a man, and judging by what a king he turned out to be and-‘

‘And what?’ The Earl prodded on

‘-and what is in fact the truth about his and my diverging lineages’ George’s voice coming out as a strangled whisper ‘we both know the truth and how the divine order has been disturbed’

The Earl nodded knowingly, satisfied that he had extracted the confession he needed from his young cousin at his expense.

‘Therefore, I would find it odd that you find it amusing that I would be in good standing to marry the future young Duchess of Burgundy’ George continued his voice gaining courage ‘You dare insinuate that your offer of Isabel would be charitable and that it is I that should haggle for this honour, when dear cousin it is you who should be humbled by such a match’.

Having confirmed his own suspicion that George personally subscribed to that old rumour, the Earl then knew how to proceed further. He was about to express his proposal in full but seemed interrupted by the Countess who shot up as if in shock. The glare from the gilded edges of her caul burned in the hot summer sun, and indignantly she said ‘You would be calling your mother a whore! The one who sacrificed her life for you after Ludlow to see you safely spirited away to the Low Countries... She would have been queen, George!’

George was at a loss for words. The scales weighing up the two factors in his head were shifting in positions like two poles of a weathervane spinning frantically in a violent storm.

‘Veritas Lux Mea, cousin’ said a solemn George crossing himself. Since I was a ninny and blurted that out, I would do well to act ashamed by it. I shall play George the hero who bears the sacrifice of his mother’s dishonour on his weary shoulders and accepts the crown despite the love he bears for his brother.

The Countess who, like most women, raised her defences upon the suggestion of a fellow women’s dishonour - not for want of defending proud Cis’ honour but her own - was now reverting to her typically restrained composure and peacefully reclaimed her seat, while the Earl let out a resounding ‘hmm’.

George who just now realised that he had been standing throughout this entire encounter, made for the other side of the chamber for a heavy oak chair. Mayhaps I should have demanded Warwick give me his seat in deference and as an apology for keeping me on my feet and knees. Instantly regretting not doing that George stopped midway and took a seat on the chair he dragged with him.

‘George’ began the Earl calmly ‘It seems our minds are ad idem, do you recall the feast where you were made Earl of Richmond and John Woodville bested you at hawking?’

George nodded from the chair across the chamber, his previous bout of anger subsiding into a tired acquiescence.

‘I recall asking you whether you thought you could do better as king. Well do you remember?’ asked the Earl.

‘I remember that too’

‘I could make you king. With you on the throne we could cleanse this country’s government of the Woodville filth, restore piety to the court and mend our ties to France. Between us, what Edward did well was all my merit. If I were to be placed beside you as counsel, we could ensure that your reign would be at least an improvement on the current state of affairs’

‘Then you would recall cousin, that I gave no answer to your question about wanting to be king.’

‘You are too modest George’ said the Earl in an a tone so sweet it was resoundingly artificial. ‘I know your brother better than you do, the years between your ages made sure of that. I can tell you hand on heart that at six and ten years he had less of his wits about him than you now do. Besides if what you said about his paternity be true, then we would make god angry by failing to act’.

‘Now now cousin, if you would put me on the throne in hopes of restoring your French alliance I regret to tell you that I would never allow it. You know very well why. Just as I, you lost a brother and father to that bitch of Anjou and the latter’s head ‘till four years past still stood severed atop the gates of York next to my own father’s’ George realised that his tone was rising in aggression at a rate he could no longer contain, much like a wild horse who after daring to descend a steep hill could no longer calm its trot, descending into a grassy grave.

To his surprise, the Earl let out a melancholic sigh leading The Countess to instinctively place both of her hands over his. The crane white of her embroidered cotton chemise fell over both their hands like a bandage and it looked as though her touch was blocking a bleeding open wound.

The Earl’s voice now lowered to a solemn murmer, so much so that even George felt his fiery temper extinguish. ‘Now George, that is precisely the reason we must mend our relations with France. Margaret is but a distant relative of the French queen and given how France consented to me joining Edward and Bona of Savoy in marriage - his very own sister-in-law -, it is clear that the Spider King is eager to forge new alliances that would suit him better. Leaving that aside, you can now see why I laughed at your suggestion of Mary of Burgundy, for what man would want to be a mere consort of a Duchess when he can be King of England? And if that is what you shall become you can now see how a marriage with the heiress of Edward’s future ally would be quite impossible’

George had been flattered by his favourite sister’s concern in suggesting that marriage, but in truth, he was loyal to that match for his sister’s sake not for some idealisation of the future Duchess who was after all, still years away from her own flowering. Her father still entertains my dastardly brother-in-law Henry of Exeter at his court and with his own Lancastrian heritage, he would be far more likely than even the French to turn to Lancaster. Besides, what would I want with an eight year old bride?

‘I would not marry with Bona of Savoy or any other French Princess. I respect your logic but I cannot be bound to a woman who shares any kinship with the she-wolf that wrecked havoc over my life since I came into this earth’ stated George.

George suspected the Earl would arrogantly state that France would not give one of its daughters to a second son like him as an indemnity - a gamble too high even for the most compulsive gambler - which Louis XI was anything but.

He instead said: ‘I know that George. It simply will not do. All you need is here in England - a wife of a family even older than the Plantagenets whose loyalties would run with yours’

‘I know what you will suggest and I would marry Isabel, cousin. But not like this. I would not be your pawn like Edward was and I will not have her imposed upon me from above as if you would be my superior, ingratiating my humble person with so lofty a marriage’ said George

‘My apologies George, if my tone and actions were conducive to you believing me haughty. It is you who is the true heir of Lionel, Duke of Clarence, you would be our king and I your counsel but nothing more - I would not have thought you to accept any different. Now Isabel I recommend unto you for more than her blood. My finest daughter has the bearing of a queen from near birth and is well-read and wise beyond her years. If I may say so at risk of betraying her secret: she took a liking to you long before a marriage has even reached our minds and if I may be so bold, I believe you have noticed that too and care for her affection more than a jot’

‘Indeed cousin, I have always remarked her beauty and despite our familiarity, she still retains an otherworldliness to her that captivates and assures me, that in her, I may find the solace needed to keep my wits about me on the road to kingship’ said George already starting to alight from his chair in order to advance towards the Earl and Countess to ritualistically perform the hand-on-knee proposal for their daughter’s hand.

After once again receiving both their blessings and being brought up by the Countess to be embraced and kissed by her painted red lips as a son-in-law, he added ‘I do not know how strong her feelings are towards me, but at this point I could imagine no one else as my bride. If there ever was a plot concocted since our infancies to bring us together you may congratulate yourselves on your successes. I may not love her yet, but I am sure I shall forthwith. But cousin, you may count on my love and your daughter’s happiness as long as she be my wife and you do not perpetually dangle her fortune in my face to humble me, nor turn her into my keeper or a spy against me. Are we understood?’

The Earl and Countess nodded at what seemed both a reasonable and achievable request.

‘Do invite her to sit with you at dinner tonight, we have arranged a banquet honouring your return and perhaps you may be the one to tell her of your marriage. I am sure she would be joyous to hear it from you.’ said the Earl while the Countess smirked discreetly.

Exhausted after passing through more emotions in an afternoon than he would have in a week, George straightened his Scarlett hose which had wrinkled from all the twitching and tensing. He sauntered off out of the chamber and through the hall leading into the bailey, convinced he held his own as much as any man could against persons as formidable as the Earl and his Countess.

After the banquet George followed Isabel at her father’s behest out into the the courtyard of Middleham castle, away from the prying Neville eyes, yet still close enough that upon a twitch of the thread they would both fall back into their palms.

Isabel who had been so charming throughout dinner was now growing shyer with each miniscule step she daintily took. Her indigo skirts flashed in a dying opulence as the Wensleydale sunset befell the land in all its summer glory, and Isabel as well, as the snowy silk of her henin now appeared a pale orange complementing the warmth of her flushed cheeks where before the wine, were of custom icely pale.

George wondered at the how the hues of those northern lands were subject to the reign of the sun, which instead of setting at this hour as it would in the south, it merely turned all around it darker and in many ways deeper.

Finding it to be a fine time to stop this treck, George beckoned Isabel to sit by him. She happily obliged but said not a word as her gaze remained transfixed on the the juniper-coloured grass below them.

‘How did you find the feast my lord of Clarence? Father knew how much you love venison and Malmsey wine so he was very glad to have procured them for your arrival’ she said courteously yet still not sparing him even a look.

‘It was more than I could hope it to be’ he smiled

‘I am glad of it, my lord’

George ever the impatient man, decided to urge the conversation forwards. He gently yet decisively reached for both her hands turning her ever so slightly towards him. ‘Isabel, it is not my lord of Clarence but George, why would you impose such formalities on our correspondance?’

To his surprise she did not flinch, but rather seemed to expect this sudden gesture of closeness. This he found passing strange. Yet through it all she still feigned a degree of wide-eyed shyness.

‘I suppose you are right... George. You and I are well-acquainted. You just seem so much changed that you appear to me a man of the court now, not the boy who used to play practical jokes on Dickon and Margaret’.

‘Ah yes, remember when I tied Richard’s bootlaces to the stirrups and when he tried to canter, the horse threw him into the lake?’.

‘I felt wicked for laughing, but in truth I laughed so hard that day, that I gave myself a stomach knot’.

‘We were always the most wicked ones, I think’.

‘Me?’ questioned Isabel, smiling and palm on chest as if shocked by such a revelation. The flirt in her is returning, I see.

‘Yes, you. Remember when you thought it would be amusing to trap a frog inside Margaret’s salve. The poor thing decomposed in there and it was months until she realised that at the bottom of her pot, lay the entrails of that poor animal’.

‘Now that I think of it, my transgressions were much more ungodly than yours. Oh George, now you have made me feel bad for the poor frog. I had nearly forgotten!’ She said warmth slipping into her tone like a hot spring over a snowy valley.

‘Yes but you were always shrewd enough not to get caught’. He added with a wistfulness at the tip of his tongue.

Read the rest on here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268239/chapters/54573088

All Chapters included :)

#isabel neville #the white queen #george duke of clarence #anne neville #richard neville earl of warwick #wars of the roses #fanfiction #historical fiction #a bygone era #please r and r #george of clarence #warwick the kingmaker #house of york #neville

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fluffy-marshmallow-heart · 6 years ago

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Drake's Diary ch.28 -Coney Island

The Royal Romance canon from Drake's POV

Words: 3455

With the scandal behind her, Emma takes the group of friends to Coney Island

Master List (Catch Up Here)

The following afternoon, everyone has reached the gates of the Coney Island amusement park…everyone except Emma.

“You guys should go ahead, I’ll wait for her.” Drake told them.

“That’s a kind offer Drake but seeing as I don’t get a lot of time with Lady Emma, I would like to be the one to wait for her. You should go ahead with Hana and Maxwell. I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.” Liam assured.

Drake frowned at his friend. I guess he really is single again. And expects Rose to jump right into his arms. Typical.

“We wouldn’t have to wait at all if we’d all just come together.” Drake grumbled as he entered the park, leaving Liam behind.

“She’ll be here soon, Drake. I just text her, she’s pulling up now.” Hana told him gently.

“Yeah, besides, now I have time to slip into something more Coney Island chic!” Maxwell exclaimed before ducking into a nearby shop.

Drake rolled his eyes. What is he talking about now? At least he’s completely oblivious to how I’m feeling about Rose and Liam.

Hana suddenly grasped his arm excitedly. “There they are! I told you they’d get here in time.”

Drake couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he watched her approach in a casual outfit. I love it when she’s relaxed. And she didn’t linger behind with Liam. This is a good sign. “Okay, you win this one.” Drake agreed.

“Get here in time for what? To see Drake in that Henley? Glad you didn’t just hide it in your suitcase and forget about it.” Emma smirked

“Hey, you’re the one who made me get it. It seemed, er…boardwalk appropriate.” Or maybe I’m just wearing it because you like it. Either one. No need to think about the way she checks out my muscles in it.

“We’re just waiting on Maxwell. He said he wanted something more ‘Coney Island chic’ to wear, but he’s been in that clothing store a long time!” As Hana turns to frown at the store, the door swings open with a bang. Maxwell steps out and strikes a pose.

“New York, here I come!” Drake’s mouth dropped as he gaped at Maxwell’s new outfit. I cannot be seen next to that.

Maxwell walked over to the group grinning, wearing a white and grey tank, shorts, and to complete ensemble, an octopus necklace.

Emma burst out laughing. “Maxwell, this is the coolest you’ve ever been. And that’s saying something.”

Maxwell stretched his arms over his head, causing Drake to grimace at his mass of armpit hair. “My arms feel so free. I think I’ve achieved peak fashion potential.”

“You really can’t do better than this.” Emma agreed.

Com on, Rose, stop encouraging this.

“Let’s get this party started!” Maxwell clapped excitedly as Emma leads everyone along the boardwalk, between ice cream carts, the occasional juggler, and visitors from all walks of life. The smells of French fries and cotton candy waft through the air.

I am seriously impressed. This place has everything! I have definitely been missing out on life!!

Hana spoke, “Food, rides, games…is there anything you can’t do in this place?”

“Nothing worth doing.” Drake grinned

Emma chuckled. “I should’ve known you’d like it here.”

Drake just shrugged. “There’s wholesome, greasy food on every corner, and nobody gives a damn about courtly etiquette. This place is a breath of fresh air.”

“I must admit, this is all a new experience for me. I dreamed of sneaking off to visit a carnival or circus when I was young…but I never had the opportunity.” Liam jumped in.

Drake smiled at him, remembering the time when he and Liam even set up their own circus in the palace…but the only person who came was Bastien, and that was really just to ensure they cleaned up. Not to mention there was almost nothing to it. Pretty much an obstacle course, now that he thinks back on it.

“Well, we’ve got all day to give you the signature Coney Island experience.” Emma beamed

They wander past the attractions until Maxwell gestures to a fortune telling booth where an elderly woman in a shawl beckons them.

“Guys! We have to do this!”

Ugh, no. “Don’t tell me you believe in all this stuff. No one can predict the future.”

Hana elbowed him lightly. “Sounds like someone’s afraid of what the future might have in store.”

You have no idea.

The woman at the booth smiles faintly. Ignoring Drake, she turns to Emma and holds out her hand.

Maxwell squealed. “She wants to read your palm…Tell her what you want to know!”

“Oh, okay! I want you to ready my love line.”

Drake sucks in a sharp breath at Emma’s request. The love line? Is that an actual thing? He glanced down at his own palm, trying not to make it obvious what he was doing. No, just…. lines in general….

The woman bows her head over Emma’s hand, tracing the lines of her palm with her fingers. When she finally releases her hand, she says nothing, only scribbles a note in swirling cursive and hands it to her.

“What does it say?” Liam asked curiously.

Emma read from the small piece of paper. “You will know true love, but only you can decide which path that love may follow. And before you and your lover are united, you will face many trials and tribulations…” She frowned. “More of them? Seriously?”

“You’ve faced your share of tribulations already…” Liam agreed.

That’s…. definitely not a good sign.

“Me next!” Hana walks up to the booth, where the fortune teller examines her hand with great interest. Hana walks away with her own written fortune, smiling. “She said that although times are hard, my fate will lead me to a bright future.”

Hah. How does no one see what’s going on? “She’s just telling you what you want to hear. Keeping her customers happy.”

Emma rose an eyebrow. “Then I think you should give it a try, Mr. Skeptic.”

Alright, fine. I’ll prove this is a bunch of hocus pocus if that’s what I need to do. He shrugs and marches over to the booth. He glares at the fortune teller as she looks over his hand.

This is so ridiculous. I cannot believe I’m doing this, even if it is just to prove a point.

Finally, the woman hands him his note. He glances at it…and walks back to the group, scowling.

His eyes met a clearly amused Emma’s. “Drake let me see that fortune!” She sneaks a peek before he can crumple the note. “Your troubles hang over you like a cloud. You must let them go if you wish to see the sun.”

Drake turned to her. “That’s what I’m talking about. Generic advice. She could’ve said that to anyone!”

“And yet it fits you to a T.” She responded smugly.

“I can practically see the storm cloud.” Maxwell joined in.

Ugh, here we go. “…who’s going next?” Drake asked, ready to get off the topic of himself.

“Let me give it a try.” When Liam returns from the booth, his brow is furrowed. “Mine may be the most unusual one yet…’A Kingdom lost shall not be regained, unless with wisdom you earn your reign.’”

“That’s odd.” Hana spoke.

“Ooh, I can help! I’m a fountain of wisdom” Maxwell said excitedly.

“No, you are not.” Drake snapped, scowling again. Unbelievable. They’re all fooled.

“Maybe she, er, missed the mark on that one.” Emma patted Liam’s arm

“Only time will tell.” He told her.

Emma turned to Maxwell. “That just leaves you Maxwell.”

The fortune teller her bends over Maxwell’s hand…then scratches her head. She turns his hand over again and again, frowning. At last, she thrusts a scribbled note at him.

“What was that about?” Emma asked curiously.

“Well, when I asked her to look at my life line…she said that by all rights I should already be dead.”

“Heh. Now that I can believe.” Drake chuckled. Alright. That one’s pretty good.

“Are you going to be okay?” Hana gasped

“Should we get you to a doctor?” Liam asked.

Drake didn’t miss Emma’s eye roll, and he smiled inwardly as she spoke. “You guys, relax. Maxwell’s going to live forever.”

Drake shuddered. “Now there’s a scary thought.”

Liam looked at Maxwell thoughtfully. “I don’t know. It’s rather nice to think of him looking after Cordonia throughout the ages.”

Maxwell put his hands up in protest. “Whoa, that’s a lot of responsibility. For all we know, I’m just a very lucky mortal.”

“One of the luckiest we’ve ever seen.” Emma grins widely.

The fortune teller waves them all away as more customers approach her booth. They spend hours wandering the streets, watching sword swallowers and street artists and food sizzling on stands. Drake felt like he was in another world, and he was loving every second of it. He especially loved the fact that Emma walks right beside him the entire time, talking animatedly everywhere they went.

I love seeing her like this. This is her home. Er, was her home…I think. I hope it’s a past tense home anyway….

Suddenly Emma stops short. “We can’t leave here without trying at least one game. I challenge you all…to a high striker competition!”

She points out a traditionally designed high striker, with a bell at the top of a tower, and a mallet resting beside the lever at its base.

Excellent. I can already smell my victory. “Challenge accepted.”

Emma steps forward first, grasping the mallet in both hands. She hits the lever as hard as she can, slamming it down with all her might, and the puck at the base of the tower shoots more than halfway up to its top!

“Woohoo!” Maxwell shouted.

Not too bad for a girl. But then, this is Rose. She’s basically the queen of capability. He frowned at the word ‘queen.’ He brought his eyes over to where she was high fiving Liam as he stepped up next. She really would be an amazing queen.

Liam swung, sending the puck halfway up. He just shrugged.

“Your turn Drake.” Liam handed him the mallet, and Drake nodded curtly as he slammed it down. His strike also sent the puck about halfway up the tower.

Damn it. I let myself get distracted.

“Nice, but not quite enough. Hana and Maxwell are the only ones left!” Emma exclaimed.

Liam looked between them. “Which one of them do you think will strike true, Emma?”

“My money’s on Hana! Just wait and see.”

Interesting choice.

Hana beams at her as Maxwell steps up to the plate first. He swings the mallet…and sends the puck flying up the tower! It stops only a few inches below the bell before tumbling back down.

“Nooooo! So close!”

Liam’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m impressed.”

I cannot believe Maxwell shot that higher than me. What is wrong with me today?

Maxwell hands the mallet off to Hana. She tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear and paces around the tower, studying the spot where the lever strikes the puck. Finally, she hefts the mallet over her head and brings it down in an elegant arc. The puck goes shooting up to the top of the tower…and strikes the bell!

“I knew you could do it!” Emma ran over and hugged Hana tightly.

Drake’s jaw was practically on the ground. “Damn, Hana. How did you pull that off?”

She shrugged. “Easy. It’s all about physics.”

Maxwell laughed. “Leave it to Hana to outsmart a feat of strength.”

The sun is beginning to set in the distance as the group leaves the high striker.

“Oh! If we hurry, we can watch the sun set from the top of the Ferris wheel!” Hana exclaimed.

They make their way to the Ferris wheel to find almost no line. Most of the cars are empty, leaving plenty of room for the group to split up

Before he knew what was happening, Emma had slipped her hand into his. “Come on, Drake. Ride with me!” She pulled him toward the ride.

He attempted to hide his blush. “Wouldn’t miss it Rose. But I call dibs on one of the cars that swings.”

“Deal”

They hopped into one of the carriages, and as the wheel slowly carries them both upward, they watch the last rays of daylight fade below them.

Drake whistled quietly. “Wow. This is one hell of a view.”

“Why am I not at all surprised that you’re into carnival rides?”

He slid his eyes over to her. “You calling me predictable, Rose?”

“Yes. Adorably so.”

He studied her a moment. “I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” She nudged his arm with her shoulder, and Drake felt the crackle of electricity immediately between them. Taking a breath, he remembered why he wanted this particular carriage.

He squints down at the ground below, then up toward the top of the Ferris wheel’s arc. “I think we’re high enough to make things interesting. Let’s give this car a shake.”

“Ready if you are. One…two…three!”

Together they rock the car forward, and it begins sliding and rocking along a small track.

“Whoa!” The swinging of the car sends Emma sliding into Drake. He catches her instinctively, his gaze lingering on her lips for a moment.

“Easy there. You okay?” he was already just inches away from her face. It’ll be so easy to just….

“I could be better…if you want to kiss me.” She said quietly, searching his eyes.

A corner of his mouth turned up as he tenderly brushes her hair out of her face. “I suppose while we’re alone up here…I’d hate to miss my chance.” He kisses her softly at first, before the hunger for her sweetness takes over as she wraps her arms around him, the heat of their bodies warming each other despite the cool evening air. His tongue swirls around hers, and she moans into him, causing him to pull her tightly against him before running his hands through her silken hair. Finally, he pulled back.

“I don’t suppose we can stay up here forever?” He murmured, resting his forehead against hers.

She shook her head. “If only…But it looks like our time is almost up.”

Drake sighs deeply, before pulling her in for one last heated kiss. “Rose, I….”

But before he can say anything else, the wheel gently deposits them back on solid ground, where the rest of the group joins them quickly, the moment lost.

Maxwell looks around the emptying park. “I guess we should get going soon…”

“What about grabbing a souvenir for Emma on the way?” Hana asked, pointing across the boardwalk to a shooting range that is just about to close. A cluster of unbelievably fluffy stuffed animals sits on the counter.

Amateurs. Even I know this. “Those aren’t for sale. You have to win them.”

“Then I’ll win one!” Emma smacks his arm lightly. The owner rolls his eyes when she approaches the shooting range, but he still hands her a toy rifle. She faces off against the row of targets lining the back wall. Squinting down the length of the toy rifle, she aims at a target…and shoots right at the middle of it!

“Yessss!” She pumped her fist in the air victoriously as the owner of the shooting range holds a pink, white, and purple stuffed animal out to her. She starts to say something, but Drake is already tuned out.

A girl that can shoot. Damn, that’s hot. There’s a lot of woods in Cordonia…and the cabin I want to build…she can come with me, we’ll make love in the woods, under the stars…

“Here you go, Drake!” Emma’s cheery voice interrupted his thoughts.

He snapped to attention as he realized she was giving him the prize furball. “Oh. Uhh…thanks, Rose.”

“I mean, as long as you want it.” She said innocently, her eyes intensely boring into his.

He felt a blush creep up his neck. I want you.

“Sure, I can find a home for him.”

As everyone begins walking toward the exit of the park, Drake can’t help but pat the stuffed animal’s head with a smile.

Can’t believe she gave this to me. The only prize anybody won…and she gave it to me….he’s so cute…and soft…

He felt eyes on him, and he glanced up to see Emma trying to hide a laugh. She mouthed him the words, “Knew It” before turning back around. He shook his head, his smile turning into a grin.

I am damn lucky to know her.

As they approach the boardwalk’s exit, Liam gets a gleam in his eye. He dashes off toward one of the few remaining food carts and returns with five sticks of pillowy cotton candy. “Here. A final treat for each of us. I’ve been smelling them all day.”

“Liam, you’re a genius.” Emma beamed, grabbing one.

“My stomach thanks you!” Maxwell snatched his own.

“This might be the best dessert I’ve ever had.” Hana gasped, eyes wide.

“No complaints here.” Drake chimed in.

As everyone munches on their cotton candy, Emma holds hers out into the center of the group. “To the best friends anyone could wish for. Cheers!”

Everyone taps their sticks of cotton candy against hers in a toast.

“Thank you all for coming out here today.”

“After everything you’ve accomplished Emma, you deserved a day to take it easy.” Hana told her.

“I’m glad we could all be here with you.” Liam’s eyes were shining.

Drake maneuvered his hand back and forth, teasingly. “Eh, it was alright.”

“Drake!” Maxwell smacked him upside the head as everyone burst into laughter, and head out of the park.

When they’re almost through the gate, Drake notices Liam holding Emma back, his head bowed, saying something. She nodded readily and smiled, before running to catch up to the rest.

Drake has a sinking feeling he knows what Liam’s saying to her. Her name has officially been cleared. Liam’s engagement is no longer. Even though this seems sudden, he realizes it’s been a long time coming, and he needs to act, now, before it’s too late.

After arriving at the hotel, Drake takes a moment to compose himself.

You can do this Walker. Just knock on her door, tell her how you feel. Tell her to choose you. You got this. You’ve always had this. She wants you or she wouldn’t kiss you the way she does, and definitely wouldn’t give you a keepsake.

He glances at his bed, where the stuffed animal now sits. Giving himself one last nod in the mirror, he heads out of his room, marching straight to hers, his heart thumping wildly.

This is it.

He knocks on her door and waits. And waits. And waits. He knocks again, then realizes…she’s not there.

There’s only one person she’d be with now. Fuck, I hope I’m not too late. I can’t be too late.

He hurriedly runs back to his room, grabbing a pen and paper and scribbling out a note.

Rose…I need you to know how much I care about you…” He stopped, crossing out the words, crumpling the paper and throwing it in the trash can. No, that’s stupid.

He tried again.

Rose, I hope you will do me the honor of… He frowned, scribbling out the writing furiously, before crumpling the paper and tossing it out. That’s even worse.

Taking several deep, calming breaths, he starts one more time.

Rose…

Meet me on the hotel balcony tonight. We need to talk.

Drake.

He nodded at the letter, satisfied. It’s perfect.

He heads back out and knocks on her door once more, just in case she returned, then slipped the folded up note under her door. For a brief second, he imagined breaking into her room, grabbing it back, then disappearing forever. She’d be none the wiser.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, before turning and walking down to the hotel lounge that connects to the balcony. He can see the balcony clearly, and he’s hidden from view by a decorative column.

He fidgets uncontrollably, his thoughts running wild for what seems like hours, until he finally hears the click of heels on the floor. He looks out the window and sees Emma appear on the balcony, in a shimmering gray dress.

God, she even looks like New York. Okay. Here we go.

She’s leaning against the railing and looking out over the city as Drake opens the balcony door and steps outside.

“Hey, Rose.”

She turns to him and smiles brightly. He takes a few tentative steps forward, his eyes locked on hers. “We need to talk…about us.”

@annekebbphotography @gardeningourmet @zigortega4life @eileendannie @thequeenofcronuts @drakewalkerfantasy @friedherringclodthing @alesana45 @mfackenthal

@hrhdes @drakewalkerisreal @akrenich @feartheendlesssummer @moonlightgem7 @i-miss-trr @noey718-blog @snyggflicka @rhymesmenagerie @gibbles82 @drakensworld @iplaydrake@i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @crookedslimecreatorpasta @be-still-my-aching-heart @lovedrakewalker @katedrakeohd @flowerpowell @notoriouscs @agent-bossypants

#drake's diary #drake walker #drake x mc #drake x emma #drake walker fanfic #drake walker fanfiction #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #trr fanfic #trr drake #choices trr #trr #playchoices fanfic #playchoices fanfiction #playchoices #choices stories you play #fluffy-marshmallow-heart

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sickandtideeeee · 6 years ago

Text

By Bast - Chapter 12 (Erik x Reader)

A/N: the nice side effect of graduating is that I’m bored and can crank out a chapter in a day and a half apparently when before it took me like literal months to craft a few pages

Anyway, please talk to me i love interaction. Otherwise I’m just screaming into the abyss lmao

“How do you not have a dress picked out?!” Asha nearly shrieked, running her hands through your wardrobe.

You shot her a dirty look as if to ask ‘Really?’ She scrunched up her face in retort.

“Just two weeks ago the whole country taught King T’Challa was dead, so is it really shocking that maybe it slipped my mind that his birthday feast would still happen?”

“I mean you live in the inner palace. You would have had to have known!” She insisted, shooting a glance at Amina, who leaned against the wall of your bedroom, picking her fingernails. Amina continued to look disinterested, denying Asha the support she was looking for.

“I have a lot on my mind.” A truth.

“More important than the King?”

Amina’s sharp look at you screamed ‘Don’t answer that.’ You artfully dodged the question, by turning your attention to one of the many dresses your friend had laid on the bed for you.

“What do you think about this one?” The dress you smoothed across your front now was a flowing maxi dress in purple, red and orange-toned ankara print. The sweetheart neckline left your arms and shoulders bare, but they would be covered by draping a soft matching scarf. Suitable enough for a priestess.

“That’s the first one I grabbed.” Asha said, a little suspicious but delighted once you tried it on completely and twirled around once. Amina’s eyes lit up and you beamed back at her. You did feel pretty. All that was left would be to tame your coils. You decided on a goddess halo braid for the soiree. You had a few hours until the dinner party would begin.

For someone as poised as T’Challa, he had a knack for extravagance when he felt like it. Opulence was only one of the words that described the theme of the venue that night. Stepping into the birthday feast hall felt like trespassing the grounds of heaven itself. Warm lights shone from above, illuminating gold and marble fixtures as well as floral arrangements of lilies and orchids that were the size of a middle school child.

Rows and rows of lavishly decorated tables filled a room the size of a football field, piled high with cured meats, spiced stews, seasoned starchy side dishes, and enough fruit and desserts to land someone in an instant diabetic coma. Accoutrements were as loud and jovial as the people themselves, with your own floor-length dress paling in comparison to many of the tribe princesses’ dresses. Nakia herself sported a shimmering forest-green mermaid dress with golden highlights and a plunging neckline that warranted a second look from most, if not all, men in attendance. She stayed close to T’Challa who wore a classic brown tunic but of a material fine enough that you could almost smell the royalty from a distance. They sat at the table of honor, flanked by Queen Ramonda whose regal smile was almost oppressive in its sincerity, and Shuri who appeared frankly nauseated by the amount of boo loving she’d have to watch close up.

Idly stuffing your face with meat pies, you sat at the first table from theirs on the right side, pretending to be fascinated by one of the stone centerpieces. Live drum music played as a vibrant backdrop to the evening.

You had just fulfilled your one and only duty in leading the ceremonial prayer for longevity and blessing before everyone could partake in the meal. Now, it was best to keep a low profile. After T’Challa called you out personally just yesterday, you did not want to invite any unwanted conversation or attention. You found yourself scanning the sea of guests for N’Jadaka as if it were not obvious why he wasn’t present. Even more unsettling was the fact that during T’Challa’s speech, he was reduced to one of the many “challenges” that he had gone through in the past year.

Once all guests had been served their fill of food and fun, Nakia led an exquisite performance of a war dance. Thereafter, the rest of the guests were invited to dance. At this time, T’Challa was now surrounded by a circle of his elder advisors, who praised him on another year of age and a successful reign so far. Since you had declined joining the dance floor, you couldn’t help but quietly listen in while you attacked a scoop of imported cardamom ice cream.

“When do you plan to execute the traitor?”

Your spoon clattered as it dropped, but the sound was quickly drowned out by the crowd. The cold dessert slid down your throat unimpeded, causing you to choke softly.

So Erik wasn’t just talking…

You could see T’Challa answering, his expression betraying discomfort, but you had trouble reading his lips from your vantage point. Only bits and pieces of conversation came through as you tried to tune out the rest of the event.

“The longer he sits in that cell, the more likely you will have a change of heart.”

“Of course he cannot be changed, why would you even suggest something of the sort?”

“He has disgraced the royal family, has he not?”

“There is already intel leaving the palace suggesting that you have kept him prisoner because you are afraid to kill him.”

“Who cares if he is part of the royal family? He lost.”

The elders now began to talk over each other, rendering the rest of the conversation unintelligible.

It did not help that a stranger now blocked your view, introducing himself as head counsel to the merchant elder. You politely introduced yourself, smiling weakly. The young man, not getting the hint, began to chat you up. Trying to keep focus on T’Challa and his advisors, you circumvented questions like who did you come with, how were you liking the party, and were you interested in dancing?

In the meantime, the elders eventually dispersed, leaving T’Challa seated back at his head table alone with a grave look on his face. T’Challa’s expressions were as difficult to read as usual. How you wanted to question him on whatever decision he had just made, but on what pretext could you do it safelyl? As it was, you had already crossed a line with him.

No longer could you find any happiness in all this noise. It was past time for you to retreat in your quarter. The young man who had invited himself into the seat next to you finally realized that you had stopped listening.

“Are you mad? Do you not hear me talking?”

“I’m very sorry but I think I must leave now.” You replied, rising abruptly to your feet. You attempted to leave, but either your quick movement or your new male friend’s spite had resulted in the fabric of your long dress getting caught out. A large rippp sounded in the air, quickly smothered by music and voices, right before you tripped and toppled to the ground.

The man behind you made an audible ‘tch’ sound as you hit the floor hard on your face. Gathering the rest of your dress in your arms, you ignored the throbbing pain in your cheek. Yup, you had definitely enough of this party.

Before you could rise and give this stranger the tongue-lashing of his life, T’Challa was already by your side to help you up by the arm.

“Disappear.” You heard him say to your slighted suitor. “Are you alright?” T’Challa’s voice lost its edge as he turned his attention to you.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, embarrassed. Touching the pain on your cheek made you wince, it was sure to swell. You pulled your arm away harsher than you intended, and made your way out of the feast hall. To your dismay, the king followed suit.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” T’Challa said, louder now that you were out of the public view. In one of the corridors, you gave him a confused look. You could tell he was not just asking about your face.

“Yes…?” You insisted. Knowing he would not leave you alone until he heard a more satisfying answer, you added: “I was just a bit clumsier than usual.” You smiled widely, albeit a bit insincerely.

“I hope your party is to your liking! I know you had a hard year so it must be nice to relax and enjoy for once, is it not?” Maybe you were laying it on a little bit too thick. T’Challa raised an eyebrow and then let out an exasperated sigh.

“When will this stop?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said.

He sighed again loudly, then waved you away. “The good thing is that this will be over soon.” This last part was flippant. “Thank you for attending. I will see you around later.”

This will be over soon.

Is that how casually he was going to talk about ending a life?

“Kunkani.”

This time you were stopping him in his tracks. He turned his head to give you a curious look, taken aback by the sudden steel in your voice.

“What have you decided?” You queried.

He knew what you were talking about, and this angered him. It was his birthday, for goodness’ sake.

“I don’t need to discuss that with you.” He dismissed.

“What. Have. You. Decided?” You repeated again slowly. Your shoulders squared, and your chin lifted. You were trying so hard to portray strength. It would be almost laughable to someone like him, if not so infuriating.

This time T’Challa was visibly upset. He walked to you until he was mere inches away, and you could feel yourself wanting to shrink but decided to stand your ground.

Stand mighty. Hold your king accountable.

“You’re serious?” He stared down at you, his eyes darkening.

Yes, you are serious.

“I have to know. As someone who is tasked to guide you spiritually in the future. As the daughter of Zuri.”

He gave a laugh that was somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“When did you become so bold?” He asked, patting your head lightly. “From a girl so timid she could be bullied by a child half her age to challenging your king?”

When you’d been presented to the former King, Queen and son you had been about eleven years old, with no recollection of your life before then. T’Challa had looked at you curiously from afar in that time, and he continued to look at you that way even now. You were an amnesiac that his father had asked him to be gentle with. You later became his sister’s quiet peer mentor and companion. You were the high priest’s daughter. You were a girl whose brown skin reddened at his very smile, every time without fail. You were calm and serene. You were ever present but also blended in every room. You were somehow clumsy and elegant at once.

You never were this confrontational, this demanding. This was new.

T’Challa lowered his hand when your gaze remained fixed and unchanged. The patronizing gesture would not pacify you.

“Are you going to kill him?”

“My council has decided that he can’t be allowed to stay in prison.”

“So you will release him?”

No answer.

“You will exile him?”

No answer.

“You cannot kill him.” You warned. This interdiction apparently struck a nerve.

“I can do anything I want.” T’Challa quipped. “You seem to have trouble acknowledging who I am these days.”

“I know you can do anything you want to as the king of this nation. However, you are also tasked by Bast to be fair.” The muffled sound of distant music seemed to grow as loud as the distance between you at this moment. You had acknowledged this distance your whole life, a distance that T’Challa had rarely seemed to respect. However, today, for the first time it felt impassable, even for T’Challa.

“You are losing sight of your position in the palace. Perhaps I’ve been too kind to you.” T’Challa finally said, smoothing some imaginary wrinkles on his shirt. It was almost as if he were trying to smooth out his own behavior.

“Why would you save him if you planned to execute him anyway?”

T’Challa gave you an incredulous look. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.

“I’m going to leave now and we will pretend we never had this conversation.”

“There you are! What conversation?”

Nakia had suddenly arrived, her smile radiant but with eyes that betrayed concern. She linked an arm with T’Challa and nudged him slightly.

“I was wondering where you were,” she murmured, looking between him and then you. You bowed to her in greeting.

“I was just leaving,” you said, in a low voice. “Happy birthday, King T’Challa,” you said once more with a curtsy, before you parted ways. You could feel the stares burn holes in your backside as you walked away.

Tagging: @syndrlla97 @iwantsomethingeternal @1killmonger @chasingsunlight @hoopshoney @destinio1 @wakanda-inspired @thadelightfulone @lalasparkles @pessimisfit @youreadthatright @stark-red19 @ruruly20 @bossyboyd03 @autumn242 @heybriheyyy @thelovelyliterary @muse-of-mbaku @bidibidibombaclaat @supersizemeplz @romanceoftheeveryday@chaneajoyyy@lildashofmelanin

#erik x reader #erik killmonger x reader #killmonger x reader #black panther #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagine #by bast

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junhaoclub · 6 years ago

Text

i’ll come in second to me

pairing: soonchan genre: heavy angst + fluff, abo!au + growing up!au warnings: abo dynamics, depression, mentioned heats a/n: happy birthday channie!!!! you deserve all the smooches in the world and all the softest things to lay on too! i hope today is a great day for you as well (’: words: 5125 summary: chan meets his mate as a freshman in high school but says nothing about it until he is a freshman in college and finds that he might have made the wrong decision in doing so.

When Chan meets Soonyoung, it feels like his heart just found its home.

Soonyoung is all bright smiles and loud pranks with Seokmin and Seungkwan, but he’s also inexplicably soft. When Minghao introduces them at the dance team tryouts, Soonyoung immediately embraces Chan in a hug and hangs off him from his very neck while Chan tries not to have a heart attack. Minghao gives him a knowing smile then leaves them to it and Chan goes out of his way to be polite to the captain of the dance team.

No need to mention that Chan is only fourteen and a dweeby freshman who just so happens to be an alpha while Soonyoung is seventeen and a really cool senior that all the omegas fawn over just for being a respectful beta. Soonyoung is sweet and kind and he smells like all of Chan’s favorite things (licorice, sun-warmed leather, wet grass, and old books), but most importantly, Soonyoung smells like his. Chan can already sense their natural scents mixing together in a way that makes his insides feel all warm and gooey while his inner alpha howls out a loud “mine” for the whole world to hear.

Chan isn’t one to be a possessive alpha like the ones in the movies are usually portrayed as and the few shitty ones he has already met in real life, but he knows enough about instincts and gut feelings to quickly figure out that Soonyoung is his mate and he wants. Badly.

But he reigns himself in with that self-control he has always been proud of himself for and focuses strictly on the dance tryouts and doing his best to get on the team. Soonyoung is ecstatic with Chan’s routine and he talks endlessly about Chan having a for sure spot on the team this year, yet Chan finds himself twiddling his fingers and biting at his lip nervously anyway.

He honestly needn’t have worried because next Tuesday during lunch finds him with a lapful of a very excited Soonyoung announcing to everyone in earshot that Chan officially made the dance team. Chan hurrahs with the rest of his friends and is careful to not let Soonyoung fall from his lap to the cafeteria floor while Soonyoung just throws his arms around his neck and talks a mile a minute about the new choreography he's working on for the team. Junhui is smirking at them both from across the table and Chan very pointedly ignores the omega while listening to Soonyoung continue to chatter.

From that point on, they are quite inseparable.

Chan has dance practice four times a week and spends his Wednesday afternoons hanging out first in the library, then in the gym playing basketball with his friends, and later at Soonyoung’s place as they watch a movie before doing their homework. They build up to that point slowly and don't always end up at Soonyoung’s place half the time, but they always spend time together on the one day of the school week where they don't have dance practice to attend.

Dance practice brings a full load of issues that Chan forces himself to calmly get through one by one.

Soonyoung smells deliciously sweet after practice when he’s dripping with his own sweat and panting, trying to gather his breaths and he always decides that this is the best time to hang off Chan’s neck. His scent is heady and invades all of Chan’s senses, but he allows it because Soonyoung flocking to him doesn't mean anything more than his mate trying to find an anchor after exerting himself so much. Alphas are good for that. It’s why there can always be more than one alpha in a pack so they can all share that load of responsibility and duty to the rest of their packmates. Chan puts a hand on the small of Soonyoung’s back, projecting his own calm into the beta for a moment before pulling away again. Soonyoung grins at him for it and then chatters on about a video game he is currently playing, the homework he has to do, and a specific move he is certain he can improve on in their new routine if he had more time to practice.

When the weather begins to harbor the cold bite of winter, Chan finds himself with a shivering Soonyoung often wrapped around him between classes and after school. Soonyoung presses his hands into the pockets of Chan’s sweaters, hoodies, and jackets and then very tentatively into his sleeves where he grips onto Chan’s wrists. The first time it happens, Chan almost jumps out of his skin and Soonyoung smiles in apology before he moves his hands further up and wraps them around Chan’s forearms instead. Minghao teases him endlessly for the way Soonyoung’s scent lingers on him afterward, but the other alpha can’t really say anything when he himself is drowning in both Junhui’s honey warm omega scent and Jihoon’s ashy hot alpha scent. Chan is nice enough not to say anything about it though and endures Minghao’s teasing nonetheless.

Soonyoung gets him new sneakers meant for dance practice on Christmas and then presses a kiss to Chan’s temple when they are at Seungkwan’s New Year’s party and the clock strikes midnight marking the beginning of a new year. Chan has to physically stop himself from melting into a pile of goo and endure the sweet little smile Soonyoung gives him for the rest of the night. When he turns fifteen, he feels his heart stop for the first time because of Soonyoung cupping his face and gifting him with a sweet and chaste kiss on the mouth for his birthday, so Chan can finally tell their friends to stop making fun of him for not having his first kiss yet.

(Chan does nothing of the sort and keeps the memory of Soonyoung’s soft lips against his locked away in a place where he harbors his most treasured memories instead.)

On Valentine’s Day, Chan tries his luck and sends Soonyoung three candy grams, beaming when he receives five from just Soonyoung alone and two more from his other friends. After school, Soonyoung pouts about not getting five candy grams in return then blushes down to his neck when Chan takes him to the closest convenience store and buys him a flower-scented teddy bear and a large box of Soonyoung’s favorite chocolates. Soonyoung gets him a bouquet of flowers and presses a kiss to his cheek before they say goodbye and head home.

Chan has no doubt that he has been falling in love with Soonyoung ever since the start, but he never says anything about the elder being his mate. He doesn’t want Soonyoung to like him simply because of that fact, or for it to be the reason Soonyoung pays attention to him in the first place.

Graduation draws nearer for the seniors in their groups of friends though and Chan paints a sincere looking smile on his face for the day of because he is proud of Soonyoung for graduating, but he is also sad about not being able to see his friend every day like he is used to. Soonyoung is beaming throughout the entire ceremony and Chan yells at the top of his lungs along with his other friends when Wonwoo, Soonyoung, Jihoon, and Junhui have their names called out and they each walk across the stage to receive their diplomas. Afterward, they meet up with the graduates and Chan throws a lei over Soonyoung’s neck and lets the excited beta hug him so tight that he has trouble breathing for a moment. They head to Wonwoo’s for the graduation party once they have all given their congratulations and Soonyoung spends the entire night stuck to Chan’s side. Chan doesn’t mind, but he also cannot deny that he is already beginning to miss Soonyoung as the night goes on.

Summer begins then and Chan finishes all of his summer assignments in the first week or so while Soonyoung chatters at him about his birthday plans. Chan nods his head to let Soonyoung know he still has his attention and when he is finally done, Soonyoung takes them out for ice cream. Chan does his best not to think about the fact that this summer will probably be the last time he gets to spend time with Soonyoung, but he keeps his mouth tightlipped about them being mates and is over often at Soonyoung’s place more than he is at his own.

Neither of their parents tends to notice since Soonyoung’s parents are often never home and Chan’s got used to him being out of the house months ago. Chan is over at Soonyoung’s house on the night before the elder’s eighteenth birthday and curls up with him in his bed, unknowing of the fact that the morning would bring a lot of changes.

Chan wakes up on the fifteenth of June to the fiery, sweet scent of sex, Soonyoung whimpering in his arms, and promptly falls out of Soonyoung’s bed in shock when he realizes that he’s hard and Soonyoung is in heat.

What the fuck?

Soonyoung is covered in sweat, his gaze unfocused, and can barely form any words that might try to convince Chan to help instead of leaving like he should. A part of him wants to stay and crawl back into bed, take Soonyoung into his arms and help his mate with his first heat. It is an indescribable kind of want in his bones that urges him to stay put, to reach out to Soonyoung and do something, except Chan can’t. They may be mates and friends on top of that, but Chan is in no position to do this. For one, Chan is still underage and he will not do that to Soonyoung and for another, Chan isn’t that kind of guy anyway.

So he does the only thing he really can do at this point and gathers his things in his backpack, whispering a litany of apologies as he walks out of Soonyoung’s bedroom and finds his parents in the kitchen. He has to spend an uncomfortable three minutes explaining to them what is happening and winces when Soonyoung’s father tells him that Soonyoung’s scent blockers hid the fact that Soonyoung was an omega quite well if Chan was this thrown off by the heat. They offer to drive him home, but Chan declines and spends the entire walk home wondering what the hell he is supposed to do now.

The answer, he thinks, is to make sure his mate is okay and then try to work from there, so that is what Chan does.

He sends Soonyoung a message as soon as he gets home then plays video games as he waits for a reply. Junhui sends the group chat a message about Soonyoung’s birthday party getting postponed until next week and Chan sighs in relief.

He hasn’t heard anything by the next day and Chan writes it off as Soonyoung being busy. He knows enough about heats to give his parents a wide berth for a few days when his father has his once every four months. Soonyoung is probably still in heat, so Chan hangs out with Minghao instead and shoots off another text to his mate.

By the time Soonyoung’s party rolls around, Chan still has not gotten a response and he takes that as his cue to skip Soonyoung’s party. If the elder doesn’t even want to talk to him, Chan is pretty sure that Soonyoung would not want to see him either. He pretends to be sick and wallows in his own self-pity while all their friends post about the party and Chan feels a sharp jab of hurt strike his chest when he sees a photo of Soonyoung smiling over his birthday cake about to blow out the candles. Chan goes to check Soonyoung’s profile and sits up in shock as he realizes that Soonyoung has blocked him.

Soonyoung doesn’t have to be any more clear and Chan is glad he decided not to show up tonight because it turned out to save him from a lot of humiliation by being kicked out. He turns off his phone when Seungkwan and Minghao start to ask about where he’s really at and muffles his sobs in his pillow until he is wrung out dry and letting exhaustion take him.

For the rest of his summer, Chan spends his time either by himself or with his family. He asks his dad to disconnect his phone until school picks up again and he deletes all of his social media profiles from his older brother’s phone. His family doesn’t ask any questions, but they can all smell the grief and bitter acceptance coming off him at all hours of the day, so they do what he says and end up going on vacation for a few short weeks in July.

He knows he isn’t handling any of this well at all, but he is hurt and he got rejected by his mate. He’s allowed to roll in the hurt until he cannot bear it anymore, but then sophomore year begins and he is practically attacked by his friends at the entrance gates. Chan tries to brush them off, tries to simply disappear so they will leave him alone as they did during the summer, but Minghao uses his alpha strength to grip onto his sleeve and hold on tight.

Stupid doesn’t begin to cover how he feels, but he puts on a brave face and pretends like everything is fine, gives a lame excuse about being grounded for the summer, then sighs in relief when they all seem to swallow the lie and forgive him anyway.

Chan is careful that year. He holds himself in a certain way, rarely ever letting himself smile, and keeps anybody he doesn’t know very well at arm’s length. He drops out of the dance team, pulls away slowly from everyone, joins less and less of the events his friends plan until they stop including him. By the time his birthday comes around, Chan isn’t surprised when none of them wish him a happy birthday at school. He wanted this hollow loneliness and now he has it.

Doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt though.

He swallows that bitter pill anyway and passes sophomore year with excellent grades, not attending the graduation ceremony to see Seokmin, Mingyu, and Minghao off. That summer, his dad disconnects his phone again without Chan having to ask and Chan gets a part-time job to fill his time now that his brother has left for the military.

By senior year, Chan is in therapy and on antidepressants that mess with his head, tweak his biology, and make him smell like he is constantly ill. He debates between undergoing his obligated time in the military as soon as he graduates like his brother did or wait until after college before ultimately deciding that he will go to Seoul University first and the military second. Chan makes sure his grades are still excellent and is valedictorian for his graduating class.

Hansol and Seungkwan manage to catch him after the ceremony when everyone is trying to find their family and friends and they share a minute of awkward conversation since the two came to support him after all. Chan finally notices that the two are holding hands and excuses himself quickly afterward, trying hard not to let his thoughts get the better of him right now. They can probably smell the hurt and sadness clinging to him, but neither omegas follow him and Chan supposes that is that.

Chan works full-time at what was once his summer job a few years before and readies himself for life in Seoul during his last summer at home. On the night before his departure, his parents take him out to eat at his favorite restaurant and in the morning, Chan spends the drive to Seoul worrying about how he will do in college.

College is strange at first due to all the new smells and scents and people. His dormmates are all a lot older than him since they decided to serve time in the army and then took two gap years for themselves first before they came to the university and, unsurprisedly, all three of them are bonded as well. He feels weird sharing space with two alphas like Jeonghan and Jisoo because he doesn’t know them all that well and a lot of alpha posturing happens between the first night and mid-September. They make him a part of their pack on Halloween when they realize what the sickly edge to Chan’s scent is and Chan finds himself enjoying having friends again.

Seungcheol has his first heat in the dorm sometime in November and Chan exiles himself to the library and classes and the dorm building’s communal living space more often than not. On the last day of his exile when Chan hears a very familiar laugh coming towards him, he feels his heart drop into his stomach as his breath freezes in his lungs simultaneously.

He looks up to find Soonyoung standing a few meters away with a surprised expression on his face and Junhui not-so-subtly stepping away and leaving them alone.

Chan can feel the hurt and loneliness he has spent years pressing down build up to momentous heights inside him and he knows Soonyoung can smell it coming off him in waves because the omega winces before he very carefully takes a step forward. Soonyoung takes another step and another until he is pulling out the chair across from Chan and sitting down, hands tangled together tightly in front of him on the table. Chan wants to run, wants to hide and pretend like there isn’t something trying to claw its way out of his chest, but this is unavoidable really.

Soonyoung opens his mouth to say something, eyes wide and his smell much stronger now. Chan has to assume that the elder has stopped wearing scent blockers, but he winces when he can smell very faint remnants of his own scent still lingering on the elder.

“You’re my mate,” Chan whispers, effectively cutting off whatever Soonyoung was going to lead with.

Suddenly, Chan feels so inexplicably tired that he barely notices the fact that he is packing his things away as his phone chimes with an incoming message. He ignores the flabbergasted look on Soonyoung’s face and pulls his phone out of his pocket, relieved to see it is a text from Jeonghan giving him the all clear to return to their dorm. Chan finishes putting his things away then stares at Soonyoung from across the table.

His hair is longer and dyed brown, but his cheeks are still as round and Chan can tell without having to see it himself that the elder’s smile is still the same, too. Chan sighs and stands up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he starts to round the table and pass by Soonyoung.

“I’ve spent all my heats alone,” Soonyoung says, barely loud enough for Chan’s heightened hearing to pick up.

He wants to stop and ask more about it because, huh, that’s - that’s something, but it isn’t enough to make him stay. Chan can smell the tears that Soonyoung is fighting back right now and he sighs again, feeling exhausted now as he pats the elder’s shoulder before he leaves.

“I need time,” is what Chan says in response.

When Chan gets back to the dorm, Jisoo immediately latches onto him and scents him quietly as Chan finally breaks down and cries. Jeonghan and Seungcheol join in on the cuddle fest soon after that and nobody asks about it until the next morning when Chan feels more stable. He explains about everything that happened with Soonyoung and winces when he smells the murderous intent rolling off all three of his packmates.

Chan doesn’t try to defend or justify any of Soonyoung’s action because he truly wouldn’t know where to begin. So he simply shakes his head and asks the three to give him time to figure things out before they try and kill his mate. Seungcheol is the first to break and then his alphas follow soon after as well, leaving Chan to later endure being squished between them in the pack nest for another night.

After he runs into Soonyoung in the library that night though, everyone from their old group of friends starts to pop up on campus at random intervals. They all treat Chan exactly the same as they did his freshman year of high school - as if nothing had changed, as if none of them quietly accepted the fact that Chan didn’t want to have friends anymore after Soonyoung - and Chan finds that he can accept that a lot more easily than he can the apologies they lead with before settling down beside him in the grass, in the library, or the canteen. He discovers that Seungkwan shares one of his humanities classes with him and Seokmin is in his math class.

They get his new phone number out of him and Chan quickly finds himself being added to a group chat with everyone from high school - sans Soonyoung. Seungkwan spearheads the plans for a friendly get together at a nearby diner and Chan asks if he can bring three extra people, the tone of his messages going from politely bored to somewhat excited. Chan can say that not everything is well between them just yet, but it is nice to have his old set of friends back and if his pack does not approve then that will be the end of that.

Except, his pack gets along with them extremely well and they know plenty about Junhui, Jihoon, and Minghao since Seungcheol and Jihoon often work on music together. Chan’s old friends seem to quickly slide into place in Chan’s new life and new pack, but Jeonghan and Jisoo have repeatedly reassured him that no one else is going to join the pack unless all four of them are okay with it.

And while Chan is slowly learning how to forgive and be forgiven by the people he was certain as a high school freshman would be his future pack, he begins to talk with Soonyoung.

It is nothing like before and Chan is always wary, always keeping his defenses up, but Soonyoung prattles on enough for Chan’s silence to not be unusual.

He learns about Soonyoung’s year and a half spent in the military with Jihoon and Wonwoo before he enrolled here in Seoul University and got through his first year of college with little to no hitches. Chan holds very still the first time Soonyoung apologizes for how things went down between them, but he never says anything in response and, eventually, Soonyoung starts chattering about something else to distract them.

Chan tries his best to be polite, to even give a damn about what Soonyoung has to say, but the longer it goes on, the longer he feels like shit every hour of every day on end. He has to change his antidepressant prescription twice because of it and Jeonghan hovers over him, making a point to scent him before Chan goes to meet up with Soonyoung.

Soonyoung never asks if Chan is seeing anyone and, in a way, Chan is grateful for that, but he isn’t blind and Soonyoung’s blatant sniffing is beginning to irritate him. So one night when they find themselves sitting by the fountain after leaving the library, Chan tips his head and looks at the sky when he tells Soonyoung that he has a pack and his alphas don’t like Soonyoung much because of what happened.

“I wouldn’t expect them to like me,” Soonyoung says in response, his voice trembling.

Chan merely shrugs. “I don’t understand why you’re trying so hard to apologize to me now.”

“And I don’t understand why you didn’t say we were mates earlier. When we first met would have been nice,” Soonyoung retaliates.

“I wanted you to like me for me, but, obviously, that didn’t work. Being a decent human being resulted in my own broken heart and feeling like a social outcast since it was clear whose side my friends had chosen whether they knew it or not and I don’t really think they did,” Chan mutters, his gut rumbling in distaste with his inner turmoil.

On one hand, Chan wants to be angry at Soonyoung, he wants to berate and argue and fight with him at every opportunity that arises with the elder, but he is just so tired. Even being around the omega uses up all of Chan’s energy and having civil conversations with him does twice that. Except, on the other hand, there is still a baseless side of him that wants to sink his teeth in Soonyoung’s throat and claim him as his own no matter the harm his mate has done to him or the hurt he has harbored for so long. Things are not going to be so easily fixed between them, Chan knows this and he hopes that Soonyoung does too, but that hope is dying by the second as Soonyoung opens his mouth to reply.

“There were no sides! There was never a conflict of any kind that would have forced our friends to rally behind someone. What are you even talking about?”

Chan sighs, his body slumping with the exhaled breath. “Your birthday party the week after we last spent time together. Everyone was invited but me and when I checked social media, you had blocked me on everything. So, I withdrew and got my phone disconnected so nobody would be able to talk to me unless they really wanted to.”

The memories of that summer still taunt him at every opportunity and having to drag it all in the open like this right now isn’t helping Chan at all.

“It goes without saying that no one did and by the time school started again, I realized that I didn’t really matter to anyone there. So I withdrew even further and when my birthday passed and no one even said ‘Hi’ to me, I knew that I never had mattered enough to anybody ever,” Chan grits out, standing up when Soonyoung places his hand on his shoulder. “You were just the first person to make me realize it, so thanks for that. I guess.”

“Chan, that isn’t…” Soonyoung trails off, biting his bottom lip as he thinks of what to say.

Chan waits patiently, hating the fact that Soonyoung still looks just as gorgeous now as he did before when Chan was just a bumbling fourteen-year-old trying to stay friends with someone who didn’t actually care about him. Now Soonyoung is trying to make things right because of them being mates and Chan sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead in frustration.

“Chan, I’ve been in love with you ever since we met. I never said anything because you were just a kid, but I was still selfish enough to keep you close and steal a few things from you anyway and I’m sorry,” Soonyoung sucks in a sharp breath as his voice shakes. “You don’t know how sorry I am because I never meant to make you feel like that. I never meant to make you think I didn’t care because I did. I cared and still care about you so much.”

Chan blinks, feeling uneasy now as Soonyoung begins to cry. He wants to go over and comfort his mate, but he doesn’t want to touch Soonyoung either. He doesn’t know what he should do at all, so he remains standing and crosses his arms over his chest instead.

Soonyoung’s voice is still shaking when he says, “On my eighteenth birthday, I got my first heat and you were right there. I was scared I was going to do something stupid like beg you to help me through it and you looked so goddamn guilty as you scrambled for your stuff and left. A part of me was relieved about it because it meant neither of us would make a huge mistake we would instantly regret, but a stronger and pettier side of me was so angry that you had left. I was beyond furious for a better part of my heat and it’s why I blocked you on everything then ignored your texts. I thought you were going to come to my birthday party and we could just make up there in person because I didn’t want to do it over text.”

“Except I didn’t go,” Chan whispers, his sudden realization of the situation giving him a massive headache. “Your radio silence made it very clear to me that you didn’t want me there, so I pretended to be sick and didn’t go. I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought it was what you wanted.”

“I did want you there! I was so fucking devastated when you didn’t show and nobody wanted to tell me where you were or if you were just running late or something. I thought they were all covering for you because you were angry with me and didn’t want to be friends anymore, so I just didn’t bother anymore either. I thought you didn’t want me in your life in any way, shape, or form,” Soonyoung confesses, wiping at his face aggressively. “We should have just talked about it then instead of making assumptions and turning it into this, but even with all of that, I was still in love with you. Which is so fucking weird considering I was an adult and you were just a kid.”

Chan pinches the bridge of his nose and tries his best to remain calm. “I was still in love with you too, even though I didn’t want anyone to love me back. It was strange, but you’re still my mate and we are both huge idiots and I’m sorry for anything I might have done that hurt you, too. I don’t think we can go back to how we were ever again, honestly, but maybe we could try being friends again and just see where that goes.”

Soonyoung nods, sniffling as he continues to try and wipe his face clean. “It wouldn’t hurt to try at least.”

“It might hurt, just a little,” Chan says with a tiny smile and a sprinkling of humor lacing his tone. “Or a lot, but we won’t know until we try.”

“Right,” Soonyoung says with his own smile in response.

Chan nods, feeling his heartbeat quicken in his chest at the sight. “Right.”

a/n: i’m sorry this is pretty sad since i kind of just wrote my feelings away with this one, so yeah. i left the ending ambiguous on purpose so you can all imagine what happens after by yourselves btw

thank you to all for reading! remember that you can always yell at me about this fic!

#lgbtqcaratsnet #m; fic #soonchan #hoshi angst #dino angst #soonchan angst #hoshi fluff #dino fluff #soonchan fluff #angst #fluff #p; soonyoung/chan

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alltheimaginationofme · 6 years ago

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Hide- Roman Reigns

Requested! This was one big request for me and it took a while before I thought it was right! Please let me know what you think! PS: The name used- I used a random generator, not based in real life!

Tags: @chanelxberlinstark @blondekel77 @briqueenofthenorth @calwitch @fioportella @whocares006 @dancefaeirie @ramsaypants @wrestlingfae @alibob687 @lunarchaosqueen @keepyourdreamsalive @ashluvsaj52 @meremaidqueen @demonqueen29

Roman saves his best friend from an abusive ex one thing leads to another and they kinda start to have sex but she stops it. They’re totally in love though

If there was one thing I was good at, it was hiding. Hide and seek was my ultimate game as a kid, and hiding marks was my end game as an adult. I wasn’t exactly out there as a person, and me hiding was my way of protecting myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to, it was that I didn’t want to. I don’t ever want to hurt anyone.

So when Mark, my boyfriend of 3 years hits me… I become too shocked to fight back. He does it again, and again, I cannot find it in me to fight him back. I fell in love with this man, and I cannot take it lightly to hitting him ever, no matter what he does to me.

In my industry of wrestling, it’s almost too easy for me to cover and hide and create stories for the marks on my skin. Lying becomes a second nature to me. I’ve had enough practise that I can’t tell where the lies end and the truth begins.

Imagine my surprise when my best friend calls me out on it.

Roman Reigns, the powerhouse of WWE catches me out one night. Honestly? People don’t give him enough credit for the intelligence he has, his caring side and his strength sure- but he has a quiet side of watching and understanding. I got caught out by two lies not adding up. I told him I had been swimming and slipped about the same time that I had taken a bad bump in the performance centre. “So which is it? You can’t be swimming and at the performance centre at the same time babygirl. Don’t even defend it, I know what Mark is doing.” Roman had shook his head and pulled me into a hug while I cried to him.

It took a couple more sleepless nights of crying to my best friend before Roman came with me to end things. Meet in a public place, so I can be there to protect you, and so he can’t pull anything. The instructions I followed to the very last word. Mark turns up and starts dragging me to a hallway, and imagine his surprise when I slap him. People turn to us, and I clearly say it’s over. Mark is pulling me towards him again when the crowd around us protests. “It aint ever over sweetcheeks.” The slimy words from his lips have stayed with me.

So, I move house, change my locks, change my number, change my email and contact details. I only give family and immediate friends my address. WWE give me the time off to get my things sorted, and I only take the minimum time required to do so. Back to work, back to bruises that are supposed to be there. But I can’t help but hear his voice when a man touches me, I tense, anticipating the hits that I know will come because I haven’t done something right- or maybe even because I was too good at something. The only man I let touch me is Roman, but even then it is limited to hands and arms. Roman was there the whole time, my quiet mountain that would not be moved. Roman would not hear of my protests when his time off was spent with me, doing whatever I wanted and whatever we could find. He was the man who could make me smile, and I didn’t fear anyone when I felt him next to me. When the nightmares came he dealt with them too. Facetime, cuddling or sharing a room made me relax into a feeling that was too familiar at the start of my previous relationship.

I was in love with him.

I don’t think it mattered when it happened, only that I was in love with him and I could feel it in my bones. He walked around with confidence, and I admired his ability to make me feel so safe with just body mass. I admired how he managed to handle me and still have a life around that, he could make sure I was ok before greeting everyone else. Our eyes would always meet across a room, and then we would be together. Some days I wasn’t sure where I was without him, I don’t know who initiated contact but with him it never mattered. He never pushed me away.

He knew me in and out, knew me better than I knew anyone. He was my other half I was convinced of it. Co-workers already whispered about us, Roman knew and ignored them. I couldn’t brush it off like he did, rounding corners at arenas weary of what people would say with me attached to Roman’s hip. Not everyone knew what happened with Mark, just that I turned up to work with Roman and was with him at all times now.

Eventually, Mark faded from my mind and I became more open again- less prone to hiding. Open to other people, I didn’t have to be with Roman at all times, but I still wouldn’t let him go. I could sit with Seth and Sasha and Bayley now, Dean sometimes scared me because of the random unpredictability but he was there too. Roman would always have an arm around my waist securing me in the moment, anchoring me down, making sure I was safe and not going to run away.

It was the next arena that made me nervous. It was in the city where I could FEEL he still lived. I knew something was going to happen. Roman tried to get me to shake the feeling, going to get ice cream together, playing crazy golf- anything he could find, we did that week.

And because he made me a promise, Mark showed up at the arena when I was alone.

I was walking past catering, smiling at the fact Roman had been pulling faces at me the entire time we ate lunch. But more so because of the foot that was hooked into mine and occasionally rubbed up my leg. I knew I would have to tell him how I felt soon, but I liked this peaceful bliss we had of being best friends.

Strong hands wrapped completely around my upper arms and I froze.

I felt that grip, I knew that grip.

I looked towards his face, and he smirked “I thought you would have made it harder than that.” His face hardened from the smirk “I told you it aint ever over.” I completely lost the fight when he said those words, they had haunted me since he said them. I felt myself go lax in his arms and he hummed in approval. “It’s like I never left sweetcheeks, remember everything I like doncha?” He laughed as I slowly nodded, my knees were barely keeping me standing at this point. But that’s what he liked, me compliant.

No fighting back.

Mark leaned towards me and I prepared myself to be pushed back into this life, a whimper escaping me as he came a breath away from my face.

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!” A roar appeared from my right and something big rammed into Mark, breaking his hands on me.

Only problem with that, he had been holding me up.

I slumped into a heap on the floor and curled in on myself, my eyes glassed over as I relived everything that Mark had done to me. The hits, the bruises, the pure hatred towards me if I did something he didn’t like, the marks, hiding the marks-

I felt a hand on my shoulder and someone gently tried to untangle me. “Babygirl? Comeon Y/N I know you’re in there, I’m here, he’s gone. Come back to me…” I blinked at Roman’s voice. Smooth, so smooth and comforting, I could relax in his voice for days. A voice I would willingly submit to. I blinked again and Roman came into focus. He smiled at me and cradled my shoulder with his hand, as if I would break- and I lunged to hug him around his middle. He fell with the impact, and took me with him chuckling.

“Let’s get outta here for the night?” He spoke so softly that I wasn’t sure I heard him, and when I looked to him for conformation he simply nodded, and smiled when I nodded back.

Roman getting the night off wasn’t exactly hard, his voice had a lot of pull. Being the head of the locker room did that for you, but Vince reminded us both he’d take a day of holiday from us for it. I couldn’t find the voice to argue, and Stephanie, who knew of what happened smiled sadly before saying she’d sort it out for us.

Roman drove us to the hotel, and back to our room. I showered and thought under the water. I had been overly quiet, even for me and I was sure I was going to have questions asked of me and it hurt my head to think of answers. I stepped out of the shower and cursed, realising I had only brought underwear in with me to the bathroom. My hands wiped over my face, of course, when rooming with my crush I would forget my clothes. I sighed and sucked it up, it couldn’t be any worse than having a breakdown at work today.

My eyes watered at that thought, God I was so embarrassing. I put my hands on the door and called to Roman, asking him to grab me some clothes before I came out. I heard some rummaging before padded feet came to the door. I took a deep breath and opened the door, looking into his face that tinted red slightly and he held my clothes out.

I didn’t take them.

I stared at him for a long time, and not a single moment did his eyes wonder. He stayed connected to me the entire time, and I felt the heat grow in me. Mark only ever saw me as a body, Roman only ever saw my soul. Roman could have easily broken me when he found me, a lesser man would’ve taken advantage of it and used me.

Roman didn’t.

“You’re making this real hard on me babygirl” His deep voice vibrated through me and I blinked, losing our connection but smiling shyly at him. He groaned and dropped the clothes, connecting our mouths before I could register what was happening. My hands wrapped around his neck and pulled me closer to him, pressing my chest against his and he answered with a growl of approval.

He pulled me up against him and travelled backwards towards the bed, lying next to me without losing the connection of our mouths. My hands travelled the expanse of his back without my permission and came across his shoulders and down his chest. He tensed under my touch and shuffled closer- urging me on.

Roman wasted no time with his hands either, running them from the sides of my faces down my back to grab a handful of ass. I gasped into his mouth and his tongue ran across mine before he bit on my lip and pulled away. I groaned at the loss of contact, but was surprised when he pulled his shirt off. Excited by the new skin available, I leaned in to kiss his chest and he pulled me on top of him with his hands grasping at my thighs.

I was a moaning mess on top of Roman, how a man so powerful could lie down and still make me feel under his control was beyond me. Roman arched and ground himself into me and I ached for him, body and soul. We only had a couple of layers left to go between us, and I could feel the excitement growing.

His hands touched my upper biceps, not the same way Mark did- but just enough pressure to make me catch myself and glaze over. Roman sat up straight away and sat me to the side of him “Babygirl, I’m so sorry… I pushed that way too far.” Chocolate brown eyes met mine and his soft voice brought me back to the room. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair “Cat’s outta the bag now huh?” When I tilted my head at him he continued “I’ve… I’m in love with you Y/N. I always have been, right from the start.” I blinked and started smiling “I love you too Roman…”

I took a deep breath and reached for his trousers, and his hands stopped me. “You don’t have to do any of this. I KNOW you. We can wait. How about a date tomorrow first?” My eyes started watering, Mark would have only pushed me further, but Roman? His calm strength. He knew, he knew that I would have done whatever he wanted then, but it wasn’t me- it wasn’t what I needed. Roman was like the ocean, beautifully calm, reassuring and there. Always there.

“I’m always gonna be here. I’ve been here from the start, and I don’t plan on leaving.” He pressed our foreheads together and I breathed him in.

No more hiding.

#WWE #WWE Raw #roman reigns #prompt #wwe imagine #roman reigns imagine #wwe smut #imagines #prompt list #roman is a kind soul #joe anoa'i #wrestling #wrestling imagine

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iwritetodistractmyself-blog · 7 years ago

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Dreams

Summary: Jughead Jones slips into a coma and his dreams weren’t exactly what he or anyone else expected.

Fandom: Riverdale

Pairings: Jughead Jones x Veronica Lodge

Jughead had sacrificed himself to Penny and the Ghoulies. He had been beaten, burned and cut. His father had found him in the woods and had rushed him to the hospital. FP had called his son’s friends and told them that Jughead was in the hospital and that it was bad. They had all rushed to the hospital, Veronica Lodge being the first one there and the last one to leave.

It had been two weeks since Jughead had been injured. Veronica hadn’t left the hospital, unless it was to go home to take a shower or to get some sleep. Veronica remembered the first time she saw Jughead laying in that hospital bed, he looked like he was asleep, he looked peaceful. Veronica talked to him, she talked to him about her parents and how angry she was with them and about how she was working with the Serpents now and how she planned on joining the Serpents once he woke up. She talked to him about how Betty and Archie had grown closer, the blonde and the ginger had spent almost the whole two weeks together.

Veronica had been to the hospital to visit Jughead, more than any of the Northsiders. More than Betty Cooper herself, Jughead’s girlfriend. FP, Jughead’s father, had noticed this, he noticed how he had only seen the blonde girl three times in those two weeks, while he had seen Veronica more than once a day.

Veronica sat beside Jughead’s hospital bed, a book, that Jughead had once talked about, in her hand. She would look up every so often just to see if Jughead had moved, and everytime she was met with disappointment.

Sometimes Veronica wondered what he dreamed about, did he dream about the Serpents, about Archie, about Betty, or maybe if he dreamed about her. Every time Veronica had even thought maybe Jughead was thinking about her in his comatose state, she would shake her head and think to herself ‘he’s obviously thinking about Betty, he loves her after all.’ But little did the raven haired princess know, that he was not dreaming about the blonde but that he was in fact dreaming about her.

Why are we here again? Oh yeah, that’s right. Veronica wanted to try and put our differences with Betty and Archie behind us. I’m extremely regretting agreeing to this dinner at Pop’s, because it’s by far awkward. Sitting across from my ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend, who is also my girlfriend’s ex boyfriend, was just beyond crazy. The past five minutes have been filled with nothing but the sounds of the slurping of milkshakes and awkward glances.

Why did everything have to be so awkward? We were all pretty close friends at one point, can’t we be like that again? Just with different relationships, no more ‘Bughead’ and ‘Varchie’ as Kevin called it.

“So, Jug, V, how are the Serpents?” Betty Cooper spoke up from her side of the table. Hearing her words I couldn’t stop myself from looking over at Veronica, who was already looking at me. We both shared the same look, ‘what the hell were these two up to?’

Even though, I was worried about what the blonde and the ginger were up to, I couldn’t stop myself from observing my girl’s outfit. Veronica was wearing her new black leather serpent jacket, which she look amazing in, she was wearing black skinny jeans, and combat boots. When we first met I never would have thought I would see her in an outfit like that, but then again I never thought we’d be dating and I’d be in love with her either.

“The Serpents are fine.” Veronica answered, seeing that I was not going to respond.

Archie gave us a confused look, “Even with Fangs’ death?”

Right, they didn’t know about Fangs. No one but the Serpents did, it was for his safety. Ronnie gave a sad smile, while I looked down, “Some are taking it harder than others.”

“Well, I would assume so.” Betty agreed, before she stood up, causing all of us to look at her confused. “I have to go to the bathroom.” She tells us and Archie stands up letting her out of the booth.

The door to Pop’s opened with a ding, causing me and V to both turn around. Great it’s the freakin bulldogs, all of them. Turning back around, I really hope they didn’t see me. I cannot take on all of them. Lucky for me and Veronica, I don’t think they saw us or if they did they’re not saying anything. Archie noticed the bulldogs to, because he stood up and started to walk over to them, not even muttering a word to us.

Veronica turned to me, a guilty look on her face, “Would we be bad people if we ran out of here before they got back?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “But considering how awkward this dinner is, I would love to do it.”

Veronica smiled and I found myself smiling in return. Reaching into my wallet I grabbed a twenty putting it on the table, paying for both mine and Veronica’s meal. Standing up, I put my hand out for Veronica, who immediately took it. Quickly we rushed out of Pop’s, towards my motorcycle. When we reached the motorcycle, I handed Veronica her helmet, which she quickly put on, I followed suit doing the same thing with mine. Throwing one leg over the black bike I cranked it up and waited for Veronica to get on. Once I felt Veronica arms wrap around my stomach, I took off.

Arriving at mine and my dad’s trailer, I turned off the bike. My dad’s bike isn’t here, so he’s not here, he’s probably at the Wyrm. Ronnie had already gotten off the bike and had taken her helmet off, so I quickly followed doing the same. Walking up to the trailer I unlocked it and walked in, Veronica behind me.

Sitting down the helmet, I walked in the kitchen. Veronica must have sat down on the couch, because I can hear the squeak of the old couch. Reaching into the fridge, I grab two sodas. Walking back into the small living room, I smiled slightly at the sight in front of me. There Veronica was, in all her glory, cuddled up under a blanket on the couch. Walking towards her I handed her a soda, before sitting down beside her.

“I’ve decided that we are watching Reign.” She declared.

“What’s Reign?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, I had never heard of the show before.

“It’s a show, obviously. It’s about the Queen of Scotland Mary Stuart. I heard it’s really good.” I couldn’t help but smile at the happy look on her face.

“Okay then. Whatever you want.”

I now regretted saying that, due to the look on her face. I can tell, she wants me to get up and go get her something. “Whatever I want?” She leaned in closer to me, “You wanna go me some chocolate ice cream from the freezer?”

Why would she want ice cream, if she’s cold. “Okay, first of all, we just had milkshakes. Second of all, aren’t you cold already? I don’t think ice cream is going to help with that.”

Veronica shot me a smile, “1 ice cream is different then milkshakes. 2 I eat ice cream in the middle of winter, I think I’ll be fine.” When I didn’t move to go get the ice cream, she gave me the look. The puppy dog look, the one I could never say no to. She gave me a pout, and widened her eyes.

“Fine.” I found the words escaping my mouth before I could do anything to stop them.

“Aww, thank you baby.” She says before she reaches over and grabs my face pulling me in for a small kiss.

“You’re lucky I love you.” I say while standing up, even though I know I’m lucky that she loves me.

“I know.”

Veronica Lodge sat beside Jughead’s bed, the same book from earlier in her hand, she was on the last chapter. Now, she understood why Jughead loved the book so much.

Letting out a sigh, the raven haired girl closed the book. “What’s wrong?” She jumped at the rough noise, but she immediately calmed down when she looked up and seen FP. The two had gotten close over the two weeks.

“I just finished the book. So many surprises. And I did not expect Jughead to read books like this.”

FP smiled at her, “I’m going to go get a cup of coffee. Do you want one?”

“If you don’t mind.” FP only gave her a small smile before he turned and walked out of the room.

FP had only been gone for about two minutes when Veronica heard something, looking up she thought FP had somehow got coffee extremely fast. But her eyes widened when she saw Jughead open his eyes. Standing up quickly, she almost leapt towards the hospital bed.

“Jughead, oh my god you’re awake. I should go get a nurse and your dad.”

Jughead blinked nervously and nodded.

Veronica gave him a small smile, leaning over she pecked his forehead before she rushed out of the room and towards the nurses station. After getting a nurse, Veronica practically ran down the hall towards the coffee machine to go tell Fp that his son was in fact awake.

It had been three hours since Jughead had woken up, every Serpent had been to his room at least once. Fp had two serpents guarding Jughead’s hospital room at all times, just in case any Ghoulies came to finish the job. Betty and Archie had made a brief appearance before they quickly left. Which highly confused Veronica, her boyfriend only muttered two words to her, before he ran off with Betty, again.

Fp hadn’t left Jughead’s side, until Jughead admitted that he was really hungry and wanted some fries from Pop’s, something that his doctor confirmed he could have. Veronica had offered to go get it. But Fp, had refused, saying he would go get it, because if Veronica went there was a chance she’d run into her father. Something Fp knew she didn’t want to do.

Veronica Lodge hadn’t left Jughead’s side. The two had been talking for about forty-five minutes, Veronica was catching him up on everything he missed. When suddenly, Jughead blurted out that he was sorry, that he judged her and blamed her for her father’s mistakes. Veronica had smiled at him and told him that it was okay, and she then also apologized for not telling him some of the stuff she knew her father had planned.

Fp finally walked back into the hospital room, a bag of Pop’s in his left hand, when Veronica stood up from the chair, grabbing her small bag.

“Ronnie?” Jughead questioned, shocking Veronica. She had never really heard him call her by anything but Veronica. “Where are you going?”

Veronica smiled at him, “I’m going home. You and your dad need some space to talk. And besides I really need a shower. I’ll drop by later, promise.”

Jughead only nodded, and watched as Veronica walked out of the hospital room.

Fp watched his son’s facial expressions as Veronica left. The Serpent could tell that Jughead didn’t look at Veronica the way he did before the coma. Fp thought his son looked at the Lodge teen almost lovingly. Fp didn’t know what was going to happen next between, Veronica and Jughead, but he did know that a world wind of drama was coming because of it.

#jeronica #vughead #veronica lodge #jughead jones #jughead x veronica

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uniformbravo · 6 years ago

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god free! is such a dumb goofy series i love it like shit gets real sometimes but when it comes down to it it’s just a bunch of dumb goofy teens living their lives together?? i have compiled a list of my favorite examples from s1

makoto: *enters haru’s house uninvited, walks right into the bathroom while haru’s in the bath, presumably naked* hey haru: ....................................hey LIKe he just.... Accepts that this is happening, theres like a solid like 2 seconds of him just staring at makoto like he’s debating within himself whether to Say It or not before almost tangibly going “fuck it” & just going along w/ it*

haru & makoto & nagisa going “is it really okay to dig up our old trophy if rin isn’t here? idk it just feels wrong w/o him” only to find out that rin not only beat them there but also fucking just went ahead and dug it up by himself hfjdkjgd

haru having some kind of sixth sense for sugar apparently??? when nagisa throws “salt” on them he like tenses up all dramatic & goes “this isnt salt........................ it’s sugar” like ok????? just gonna let that one go i guess

rin having sharp teeth for absolutely no fucking reason

haru & rin not noticing the fucking pool they're about to race in is empty????

haru straight up rejecting their encounter with rin & trying to convince himself they all hallucinated him like huh? what? rin?? haha impossible he’s in australia there’s no way he couldve been at the swim club last night. no theres no such thing as airplanes he’s gone forever. yes im sure

rin going back to the old swim club again bc the first time his melodramatic brooding was interrupted by those old elementary school Goons showing up so he needed a do-over

nagisa skinny dipping in samezuka’s pool??? an apparently prestigious competitive swimming powerhouse that trains up future professional gold medalists, reigning champions of interhigh swim meets near and far in that same water & nagisa just jumps the fuck in dick out no fucks to give whatsoever???? this bitch

haru literally only showing up to both the old swim club and samezuka academy for the pools, it’s literally the equivalent of college students showing up to any given event for free food (and the fact that they had to break in both times, these Rowdy-Ass Teens)

rin showing up just in time to interrupt their illicit pool activities bc he Sensed Them

haru wearing his swimsuit under his clothes literally everywhere despite reportedly not having actually swum since middle school (except for in the ocean during summer, but it’s like the middle of spring rn?? is he just doing this in way advanced preparation? is this the equivalent of people who start posting abt halloween in july)

gou showing up to haru’s house bc apparently she just Knows where he lives (also haru hearing the doorbell & immediately submerging his head in the bath bc he’d rather drown than have to answer the door #relatable)

rei calling haru “haru-chan-san” upon first meeting him bc “haru-chan” is what nagisa has been referring to him as so that’s his sole point of reference but he also has to add his own honorific too bc come on

haru being instantly pissed at this random new fuck for calling him not only -chan, his Least favorite honorific, but now -san on top of it too??? Outrageous (and this is the same guy who reportedly “hates water,” a completely unacceptable sentiment that should under no circumstances be allowed anywhere near their team in the first place- honestly from haru’s pov it’s like “oh so this is the guy who hates water huh, this hot shit” & then the hot shit’s all “you must be haru-chan-san” he probably just immediately sees red ghdjsjf)

nagisa’s whole “we need this guy bc he has a girly name just like us it’s fate” thing even tho rei’s already in the track club doing pole vaulting that he’s obviously been training v hard to be able to do is such a stupid anime bullshit motivation & my favorite part of it is that their plan for recruiting him basically amounts to the whole gang of idiots showing up to all of rei’s practices and staring at him intensely from the corner until he joins them, like,,,, think of this from rei’s perspective he’s just minding his own business trying to perfect pole vaulting & these fuckers have fixated on him for no apparent reason? he can’t even swim???

rei going so far out of his way to avoid admitting to nagisa that he can’t swim that he comes up with this bullshit philosophy about “humans evolved from the water so why would we regress and get back into it??? Checkmate y’all are fucking idiots now leave me alone” (& also the effort & passion he puts into the delivery, the overdramatic gesturing hfhhddjf rei are u sure u don’t actually belong in the drama club)

after all that, rei up and deciding to leave the track team (even tho he literally structured his daily schedule around it, went running in the mornings & everything, read books n shit) to join the swim club bc haru just looked really, really cool while swimming that one time

haru legitimately having a hard time choosing between like 5 of the exact same swim suit

when they’re trying to figure out why rei can’t swim & haru’s like “the water doesn’t like him” & nagisa’s immediately like “poor rei-chan :(” like hfkglfkj he just Accepts

rei being so frustrated with his inability to swim that he blames it on his speedo & is very convinced that buying a new one will somehow solve all of his problems (& everyone else just going along w/ it like ok i guess it’s time to go swimsuit shopping then)

haru, the owner of the previously mentioned 5 identical swimsuits, joining in with everyone else to go shopping for even more swimsuits, and picking out another one that looks just fucking like the other 5 he already has

nagisa being told that he can’t put their ugly-ass bird mascot on the swim team uniform so he puts “secret iwatobi-chan” on the back of the shirt that will be hidden beneath the jacket as if that’s not Blatantly what he was told not to do (also the fact that anyone entrusted the handling of the uniforms to nagisa, the exact kind of person who would do exactly that kind of thing)

(ok this one isnt rly goofy but haru just bit his ice cream & im so intimidated rn??)

rin’s fucking 6th sense for haru again???? “smells like mackerel”????? i truly cannot handle this one (haru & company are looking in at samezuka’s practice through the window & rin’s just like “HUH what the fuck is that who’s there i smell Mackerel” like????? oh my fucking god)

amakata “we don’t have enough money for a training camp” miho renting herself and gou a room at a lodge on the beach?????? power move

this goddamn show having a fun ~spooky~ haunted house adventure right after everyone almost fucking Died

haru’s story about his “first love” being about a fucking waterfall igmgkdjkg

rin jogging on the beach the next morning & stopping by the tents like “who r these fuckin dumbasses camping right on the shoreline” & then he turns around and there’s haru & his band of swimming idiots

rin waiting in the hallway at the interhigh in case haru comes by so he can casually get up & have a Cool And Dramatic confrontation w/ him where he brags how he’s gonna beat him in their upcoming race (which, even better, he purposely entered himself at a lower skill level to be able to do while probably his whole team went “uhhhh are u sure abt this lmao we’re kind of trying to be the best here” & hes just like “yeah yeah its fine it’s gonna be so fucking cool just wait”)

haru apparently also having a Rin Sense where he just Feels that rin is there, watching him about to swim (although now that i think about it that bright red hair is probably a fuckin beacon, i bet literally everyone looked over at him the second he stepped out of that doorway- that and the massive aura of Teen Angst surrounding him at all times)

the whole thing with nagisa & rei’s operation at the summer festival to keep haru from seeing rin? first of all is v cute but they get so into it fjdhgkdj fucking dumb cute kids playing secret detective mission texting each other Classified Intel about the location of their targets while also trying to hide it from haru & makoto (who eventually find out bc nagisa is literally the worst liar ever while also already being the most suspect little shit out of all of them by nature)

rei getting so caught up in the detective shit that he ends up following rin out of the festival entirely & into town where the purpose of his pursuit in the first place is irrelevant bc haru’s not gonna suddenly happen upon rin at the elementary school?? rei is such a nosy bitch i love him

rei being such a nosy bitch that he inadvertently fixes the emotional turmoil that has been building between rin & the others unresolved for years

rin texting gou to get rei’s number bc he needs to have a Serious and Dramatic conversation w/ him but he didnt have the chance to exchange contact info the last time they yelled at each other behind the school

rin sitting alone in samezuka’s bus bc they banned him from swimming for being too obsessed w/ haru & he needs somewhere to Sulk

rin finding some random tree outside the swim meet & being like “this reminds me of that tree from elementary school” bc hes a nostalgic bitch like that

haru being able to find rin bc he saw the same tree earlier and went “wait, rin’s a nostalgic bitch, i know Exactly where the fuck he went” & Sure Enough

iwatobi getting themselves disqualified bc they wanted to swim w/ rin in an official race like??? i know it’s an emotional & satisfying moment but miho chewing them out for it afterward is so fucking funny like objectively this team was doing rly well & then suddenly went “u know what, we do what we want, this red guy is ours now” & the judges went “hmm............... no”

in the v last episode when theyre all just sitting in a classroom w/ rin having him pretend to introduce himself as if he were a transfer student like theres absolutely no reason for this, theyre just goofing off together and reconnecting after having lost each other for so many years & it’s so dumb & heartwarming & the perfect way to close off the season & im crying i really do love this show i love these characters so much what a dumb cute goofy heartfelt show aaaaaa free is a treasure

*from the very 1st point: i know there r cultural differences to take into account where it’s probably not as big a deal for makoto to walk in on haru’s bath time in japan as it would be in like, america & the real issue haru takes w/ this happening is that his one little place of refuge in a world w/o water is being breached by this annoyingly persistent guy who not only interrupts his coping time but is actively trying to get him to leave it for “important” things like “going to school” and “not being late” & the extended pause is really him registering this unpleasant situation & trying to decide if it’s worth it to fight for his solitude, ultimately deciding it’s not worth the energy and begrudgingly accepting makoto’s outstretched hand, though he vocalizes his displeasure by rejecting his -chan bc no one who pulls him away from the water is someone he can call a friend, not even his like. actual friend. only friend. either one

anyway i love free bye

#hm i love free hm hmm #retag later #free blogging #i havent done a post like this in a while it's. good #i might do this for s2 too but i remember it less & it's hard to take notes when ur watching w/ someone & cant pause it a bunch #so we'll see

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