#it's unlikely she ever thought to step back and evaluate them as a person herself

[nelithic]

nasturtium :   describe your muse’s relationship with their birthplace ,   or homeland .

▀▀ 　BOTANICAL HEADCANONS　₊　

despite what she would have you believe considering she betrayed sombron during the war a thousand years ago and turned her back on gradlon, ultimately nel is ambivalent, leaning lukewarm.

i consistently find it telling that ( as far as i'm aware; i definitely haven't seen all of her potential post-battle lines, etc. yet ) you never actually see nel speak poorly of sombron or of her experiences growing up in gradlon. as the player, you assume it must have been terrible because of the distress she shows during the flashback sequences in the fell xenologue and the fact that she escaped from it eventually. but nel herself never says that she had suffered there or that she's personally glad to have left it behind; the times she does mention gradlon or anything related to fell practice, she just tells it like it was and doesn't seek to either apologize for it or justify it.

looking at her diamant C in particular:

nel: you are no doubt aware that i am a child of the fell dragon sombron. despite our differences in heritage, you are also a child of royalty. we have this in common. i never understood my father. i thought perhaps you could share some experiences with yours.

right off the bat, nel relates herself to diamant as both being royal children, and the only difference in circumstance she sees is that she's a dragon and he's human. nothing about sombron being a known tyrant and force of evil; there's a notable lack of anything resembling "i know what sombron did is evil / i'm not trying to liken him and your father at all", anything to indicate a moral judgment or even personal desire to un-associate herself with sombron. if anything, she follows it with "i never understood my father", and is asking for diamant's insight in hopes that she might understand him better.

after diamant expresses surprise and says that things are done differently in brodia, she says:

nel: i see. unlike your father, lord sombron preferred to silence all dissent with execution. to object to his decree was out of the question. to survive, there was no choice but to obey.

nel is naturally pretty monotone in her delivery usually, but i think it's still worth noting that there's a lack of anger, frustration, or even particular sadness in her explanation of how things were done in fell!gradlon.

in the end, it's diamant who makes the value judgment:

diamant: i can't even imagine living under such a vile dictatorship. i'm so sorry.

to which all nel has to say, still without much emotion, is:

nel: there is no need to apologize. that is all in the past for me now. hearing your experiences has taught me a great deal. i hope we will speak again soon.

it's left unclear exactly what diamant's perspective has "taught" her in this exchange, though it can be argued, based on the trajectory of their supports later, that it's the beginning of nel understanding the importance of objective third-party observation and assessment on the nature of someone's character, particularly leadership in their specific case.

given that nel spent a war and some time with the fell!cast of engage in her own world after betraying her father, it's unlikely this is the first time she's heard value judgments on sombron's rule and gotten a sense of what other people feel about him and his leadership style outside of the gradlon bubble. i think we do see an objective acknowledgement of that difference in perspective in this scene, particularly in her final "that is all in the past for me now". there does appear to be a recognition that there were elements that could be considered cruel where she had come from. but between this support and the fact that she continues to never speak ill of gradlon or sombron throughout the rest of her in-game dialogue, it feels as though that way of seeing it is something she only became aware of through hearing what other people had to say about it, rather than coming from herself and how she felt about it.

i think her absence of value judgment is particularly apparent when considered alongside rafal, who actually does have lines ( i think it's one of his post-battle lines but i'm not remembering exactly where off the top of my head right now ) where he casts aspersions on sombron.

i could keep going, but it'd probably just be additional discussion around the same point, which ultimately is: nel has since recognized after the fact, after seeing more of the world and realizing how different it is outside of gradlon, that her homeland is a brutal, and even possibly terrible, place. however, i don't think she necessarily feels that way herself fully. for nel, who was surrounded by that consistent environment growing up and saw it as normal, she approaches it more with a " it just was what it was " kind of lens. she sees it as neither good nor bad, sometimes one or the other.

it's notable that, though she aligned herself with the divine dragon's goals eventually, the reason she originally left gradlon at all was because life there threatened the person she wanted to protect, not because she necessarily hated it there or wanted ( initially ) to bring down sombron.

[ackerfics]

levi x reader in anastasia au i've got so many thoughts.......

levi and erwin as dmitry and vlad bc the revolution's got them in a financially disadvantaged position

levi stumbling upon reader singing in the empty ballroom, dancing away to forgotten memories

(it is then and there that he falls for her, but he doesn't believe in love at first sight so he doesn't realise it yet)

erwin chuckling at the banter between levi and reader, keeping track of who's bested who in a notebook like vlad in the movie

levi with the words he can't say lodged in his throat as he watches reader glide down the stairway of the opera house, draped in a dress whose magnificence rivals the night sky

levi and reader having a moment when they realise "it was you all along" like in in a crowd of thousands from the musical

just. levi x reader in anastasia au.

cel, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS <33 i can't help but add little things here and there as well oh my God :<<

levi and erwin as dmitry and vlad is just so perfect. after hearing that there's a huge sum of money being offered if the real princess is found, they had to take that opportunity. with levi's background as a thief and conman and erwin's smooth way of talking people until he convinces them, these two are the best duo to ever exist.

after another day of seeing poor imitations of the real princess, levi finds reader in the old palace of the royal family, twirling in the ballroom with perfect and elegant steps only the nobility teaches to their children. he swears he sees people dancing alongside her, as if the night is meant for a celebration of grandeur and sparkling gowns. the song she's singing, too, is so hauntingly beautiful that levi can't help but feel lured into every word. it's most likely she's searching for a lost memory but it's so out of reach. it's safe to say that levi accidentally finds himself getting enchanted with the unknown young woman doing a one-sided waltz in the ballroom.

and erwin being this little shit who tallies every single point in his little journal. he keeps this page a secret from levi because if his best friend knows about him keeping tabs on their amusing bickering, levi would rip that specific page off, and erwin will start over again. because he's been levi's partner in crime since they were fifteen, he knows that levi's snarky replies are far from irritation (unlike other arguments he had with infuriating people) so erwin concludes that his best friend enjoys the never-ending back and forth internally. erwin is definitely on reader's side the whole time, never tell levi this fact though.

levi finding himself mesmerized with every thing reader does. like how she carries herself like an heiress of a noble fortune. or how she effortlessly executes every lesson erwin assigns to her in preparation for the dowager empress's evaluation. or the way she reminds him of the princess he admires from afar, the princess she's playing for them to get the money from the empress. because of the reminder that they (him and erwin) are somewhat using reader, the budding feelings he once felt for the lost princess die down, replaced by an overwhelming wave of guilt. however, when she smiles at him in that dress erwin makes her wear on the boat to paris, he's officially shrouded in a pink haze. the feelings he suppressed the past days overrules his infatuation for the lost princess.

meanwhile, erwin knows this won't end well as he watches levi and reader dance on the deck of the ship. it's the first time he sees levi with that look on his face. erwin is the one who teases them about their tension but he never expects it will develop this grandly. of course, he supports this but knowing that levi told him that they'll never share the prize money with reader before embarking on this journey, he knows levi is screwed.

can i just say that anya's midnight blue gown is one of the prettiest gowns i've ever seen [screams]. and levi agrees. reader in that breathtaking dress is the show of the night for him. the whole time the opera is unfolding in front of them, levi can't seem to concentrate on the singers expressing their emotions through song. instead, he carefully glances at reader, who's so immersed in the opera that it's safe for him to linger his stare for a moment longer. as if his stare calls for her, reader turns her head to find levi staring at her with the most adoring eyes. she only smiles, which leaves levi in a wide-eyed, blushing mess that she chuckles at. she even tells him that he's being adorable, to which he responds that it's her fault for turning him into this mess.

again, levi, you can't flirt to save your life and please, your feelings are showing, sweetie.

CEL, THAT SONG HOLY SHIT IT'S SO HEART-WRENCHING :<<

after having a nightmare about the mysterious people telling her to remember, reader finds herself in the company of levi. which leads to their revelation that they already fell in love with each other way before any of this happened.

it started with levi telling her a story of his first love, the lost princess, where he's walking along the palace gardens (because his mother is one of the help) and he sees her enjoying her cup of tea in the gazebo. he then encourages reader to fill in the story since he personally believes she's the lost princess (feelings aside -- which is an excuse). it's going well, with reader describing the weather and how she feels hot because of her dress. until she says that there was a boy who offered her a flower from the garden, a boy who's smaller than her yet handed her a carnation with a determined face. she also laughs a little when she adds that the boy then realized he was in front of royalty so he bowed the lowest bow she's ever seen in her life. levi is astounded at this because he never mentions this little detail to anyone but reader easily puts this out there. one can tell from the look in her eyes that she's not just filling in the gaps, she's reliving it the memory or watching it play around her.

then they nearly kiss but levi splashes cold water on himself by going on one knee and saying, "your highness". give this man a break please. he only wants to show reader how much he loves her but no can do.

ah, fated lovers and their love for each other that transcends time.

JUST LEVI X READER IN AN ANASTASIA AU. JUST THEM LOVING EACH OTHER IN THIS UNIVERSE.

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood

When Y/N moved to Hampstead she was unaware of the implications the decision would have on the course of the rest of her life.

or

Harry is Y/N’s eccentric neighbour who sweeps her up in the whirlwind that is his life

this gif bc its maybe my favorite clip of him EVER holy fuck - this is the harry of my dreams this is the harry of i live in the neighbourhood

HEY YALL it’s been a minute and I missed yall so much and I’m just about to be on break so maybe i’ll be back to posting writing regularly but with school its so hard and I think I’ve been working on this for months so yeah <3 lol PLS PLS PLS leave me feedback and reblogs and that stuff bc otherwise my writing just feels...empty and you have no idea the smile i get when even just the tags say like “god this was everything” it can be anything honestly but it keeps my passion up. Thank you again and hope you enjoy.

Word Count: ~10k | Warnings: swearing probably? no smut (yet), rich and famous harry - mentions of Taylor Swif 

-

She considered herself an average young woman in her mid twenties. She liked screaming Taylor Swift and Megan Thee Stallion songs alone in her car and thrifting on weekends. She hated cable because of commercials and when doordash didn’t deliver all of her order. She had asthma when she worked out or the air quality was bad. She had dumb celebrity crushes that her friends and her still laughed over with every new instagram post. She had hopes and dreams she had yet to achieve and she had past trauma that many would never know about, especially at first glance.

Sure, she was successful. She would admit that. How else would she be able to afford even the modest little house she had found in Hampstead? She had studied international business in college and hopped on a plane to London the first chance she got. After a few years of a more than decent paycheck and an advantageous stimulus check from her kind parents, she was able to move out of her starter flat into the suburbs. The definitive push for the move was two-fold. Her parents wanted her to take her dog and her apartment complex was strict on no pets. Then her promotion at work - which included a pay raise - made it hard to wave off taking full ownership of her childhood ten-pound best friend.

So with life happening as it usually does, Y/N first found herself scouring Zillow, then touring homes in the area, and finally standing outside a three bedroom, two bath, two-story cream house in Hampstead. Her house.

The little moving truck she had rented sat beside her as she stared at her future. The realtor had told her they would be there in ten minutes. For the next ten minutes all Y/N had to do was keep herself from combusting, or worse, sobbing.

She felt overwhelmed already. Renting a flat in London was one way to describe herself as independent. Owning a home in Hampstead seemed like a whole new level of adulthood she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for.

After taking a few deep breaths to ground herself, Y/N walked up to the gate that kept her front yard narrowly separated from the sidewalk. She lifted one hand from beneath the box she clutched tightly to her chest to push past the iron-rod gateway. The garden was cute, a little bland, and she thought to herself that maybe she’d develop some gardening skills now that she had her own front yard. The thought made her smile a little, refraining from laughing aloud while on her lonesome, since she had never taken interest in gardening before. But this house. This house. It was a new beginning. It was a fucking unwritten journal. Blank film. Unknown territory. She could be anyone in this house.

She gently placed the cardboard box on the first step up to the front door. There was no porch, but she couldn’t complain. It was gorgeous and she was lucky to get it at the price she did. The house was cream with dark blue accents and a grey shingled roof. Lots of windows. It was classic and it was hers.

After the realtor came with her keys and made sure everything seemed alright, Y/N’s couple of friends, Amélie and Daniel, arrived with their cars filled with items she had needed picking up from various stores. They helped her move her stuff into the house. Thankfully it was already half furnished, meaning she didn’t have to go out and buy beds or couches or any of those big items that are both expensive and a hassle to deal with.

By the time the evening had rolled around, everything was in the house and it actually seemed semi put together. Y/N looked around, sweat apparent on her face and hands on her hips, proud of what she had accomplished. The nerves from earlier had been drowned by pride.

-

The next day, she woke up from her first night in the house. It felt like a dream even though she was sure she was awake.  

She had to navigate her way to the airport today to pick up her dog from his long flight and then mainly settle into the house. Her house sat on Sherwood Avenue, one of the many streets in Hampstead. It’s neighboring houses were much larger. The ones directly next to and across from her weren’t drastically bigger but what she had yet to learn was that next to the house across from her there were two houses that had been joined together by their slightly eccentric owner. A man who would be the match that ignited the flame that was the rest of her life.

This unknown fact quickly became known after Y/N’s first few weeks in her new neighbourhood. The eccentric - more so absurdly rich - neighbor who conjoined the houses was Harry Styles.

The first time they crossed paths she wasn’t even aware of it. It was the day she moved in. He had been out for his usual morning run and was rounding the corner when she had pulled up in her moving van. Once inside his home, he snoopily watched on as his neighbour began to move in. He hadn’t taken note of much about her, just that she was new and that she had a nice pair of jeans on that day.

The second time, Y/N was convinced she needed to get her eyes checked because there was no way that she had just seen Harry Styles key himself into the house across the way from her. There was no way that she had moved into the same area as him, let alone the same street. It seemed far more plausible that she needed a psych evaluation or a strong glasses prescription.

But the third instance of them crossing paths, she was proven wrong. She was on her way back from the neighbourhood park when she saw a guy jogging towards her. With a yellow beanie and a black Columbia sweatshirt paired with running shorts and shoes, he was hard to ignore running straight towards her. The iconic curls, strong jawline, and soft green eyes were dead giveaways this time. After making brief eye contact as their paths literally crossed, she felt herself make a little face of odd interest. Her head quirked and her eyes narrowed, lips pursed with slight confusion. That was definitely him.

After that, she found herself seeing Harry around the neighbourhood a relatively good amount. She’d see him at the park, at the coffee shop, on their street, and more. They didn’t speak. She really didn’t think he would want to be bothered by his neighbours and she certainly wasn’t willing to test the theory. They sometimes gave a small smile of acknowledgement but nothing really friendly. Just ‘you exist and I know that’.

-

Fridays are Y/N’s favorite day. It’s the beginning of the weekend, she never has to go into work and it’s simply a nice day. People are happier, they smile brighter and it just seems like the world is a little better than usual.

Friday was especially amazing today because her childhood best friend, Cate, was arriving at London Heathrow in the evening. Y/N had begged Cate to fly out to see the new house in person and Cate had finally found the time to run away to England for a week.

She shut her front door carefully behind her and placed her headphones in her ears. Rori, that little terrier, who had made a similar flight to see Y/N’s place not too long ago, scampered out the door with her and jumped happily at her legs as she fiddled with her phone. Her coat ruffles around her disturbed from the morning air. It’s blanket-like fabric that consisted of a deep blue backdrop with felt giraffes sewn on it, kept her warm while she walked. With her mind racing with weekend plans and ideas for her and Cate to do both in Hampstead and the city, she crossed the street like usual and began to walk with her dog to the coffee shop for her morning tea.

Unlike usual, she fumbled just as she was putting her phone in her pocket and bumped into something large and definitely not sedentary.

“I’m so sorry!” She blushed and moved backwards from the man who had just been shutting his own front gate to head somewhere.

“S’alright. No harm, no foul.” He looks down at her and her dog. Rori seems excited by the stranger and sniffs him eagerly. A single paw prodding at the man’s long leg.

She grimaces, hearing the voice and stepping back allows her to fully recognize who she had just bumped into. Her neighbour. The runner. Harry Styles.

“Sorry.” She mutters again as Rori continues to prod at Harry’s leg.

She tries to coax Rori away, but Harry simply smiles and leans down to the small dog.

“Hi there buddy,” he coos and rubs the top of the fluffy dogs head, in between his pointy ears, “What’s your name?”

“Rori.” She states easily, Harry’s eyes flickering to her smoothly. Rori makes a smile babbling noise that sounds a bit like a tiny roar - hence the name - and Harry chuckles to himself.

“He’s really adorable,” he finally says and straightens up from his admiring of the dog.

The grimace becomes more of a smile on her face and she mumbles a “Thank You”.

As her neighbour - who hasn’t introduced himself (which wasn’t necessary, but still) or bothered to ask for her introduction - seems to be about to say something new when his phone begins to vibrate obnoxiously. He twitches, his large hands immediately going to his pockets for the important device. He checks the message and looks back at her face.

“Sorry, I have to run...um,” he’s not sure what to say. He really does have to go, but he doesn’t even know his neighbour’s name. He’ll have to make sure to get it at some point in the near future. Especially now that he’s acquainted with her dog.

“No worries,” she smiles completely this time, relieved for the whole interaction to be over. She felt like she was going to explode with each passing moment. In the presence of a legendary musician, c’mon, who wouldn’t be freaking out. All she could think about was how Harry Styles now knew her dog’s name. What the fuck!

-

Upon arriving at the airport, she waited patiently for Cate to walk out of the customs area.

When she did, the two young women began jumping up and down excitedly, Y/N squealing only slightly. They hugged and began chattering intensely, catching up on lost time that generally occurs when you live an ocean apart.  

Finally, one comment rings through the constant back and forth and Cate stops.

“Wait, what did you just say,” she questions as they begin walking to catch an uber back to Hampstead.

“I think my house might be haunted?” Y/N’s voice raising because she’s unsure if that’s what Cate was talking about.

“No, no, the thing after that. I think I must’ve misheard you.”

“Harry Styles is my neighbour?” Y/N’s brows raise as she looks over at her best friend, curious to know what she will say.

“Yes! Explain. Now!”

“It’s not really a big deal. It’s a nice neighbourhood, it makes sense that celebrities of his caliber want to live there.”

“That is not explaining. You have to introduce us!”

As they climb into their uber and settle in for the short ride back to Hampstead, Y/N sighs and tells Cate everything she knows.

“We’ve only just spoken today and I’ve been here for a couple weeks. He lives across the street and down one, I guess. I just see him around, it’s not like he knows who I am. He didn’t even get my name today, just Rori’s.” She laughs lightly, still finding it funny that Harry knows her dog’s name.

Cate nods, leaning in slightly to her best friend, hardly able to contain her awestruckness from the story and baffledness at Y/N’s calmness. “So, like, when do I get to meet him?”

“Girl, I don’t fucking know. Never, if you’re going to act wild. I don’t want the neighbourhood to think I’m not chill.”

“Sometimes…” Cate starts and leans away from Y/N jokingly, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They both smile, bumping elbows silently. The song on the radio fading in louder as their words die out.

-

The next day, Y/N took Cate to the local park. It was expansive and connected to the football fields that local teams would play at. The park section was a luscious green that was maintained with copious amounts of watering by the township.

She and Cate settled on a patch of grass near a slender tree that would offer some shade if the sun’s rays became too harsh. The quilt they sat on was something her grandmother had made her when she was maybe 8 years old, meaning it was torn in places and completely worn in a different shade of pink than it had been initially.

They set up their picnic and played music, enjoying the sunny day. Something rare and fleeting as the fall began to creep up on Hampstead.

They eat and catch up on life for about an hour. Basking in the sunlight, Y/N had laid on her back and was staring up at the clouds passing along the sky. Cate was carefully watching their surroundings, simply taking in her friend’s new home, but possibly for another reason too.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Cate trails off, trying to subtly nod in the direction of an approaching figure.

Y/N sits up, her hands holding her up from behind her. Her hair fails in front of her shoulders slightly and it’s a little disheveled from being mused in the grass. She looks discreetly in the direction of Cate’s nodding and then looks at her friend and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but don’t say anything, he might not even notice me and I’m certainly not calling out to him.”

‘Illicit Affairs’ by Taylor Swift is playing off her speaker and as she’s about to change it, Cate turns it up slightly. They share a glare with one another before trying to act casual again, even though both of their eyes kept flickering to the man who seemed to be continuing closer and closer to their set up.

It became clear that Harry was approaching them after all and Y/N tried to carry on an unbothered conversation with Cate, which was hard with the constant nudging of Cate’s foot on her shin.

He stops a mere foot away from their blanket, beaming at the two young women lounging on the ground. He makes an attempt at a casual wave, his large hand splaying his fingers quickly, before opening his mouth to speak.

Cate beats him to the punch. “Hello there!”

“Erm, hi!” He says nicely to her and then looks at Y/N.

“No Rori today?” He inquires.

“No,” she smiles, slightly blushing at the fact that he remembered her and her dog. “He’s napping.”

“Ah, I see,” He pauses, “I feel like I need to apologize.” He continues.

“For what?” She questions and Cate watches on anxiously, mesmerized by Harry and dying to see what happens next.

“I ran off before I could even ask for your name or introduce myself. It was terribly rude.”

“Oh,” she can’t stop smiling, “It’s nothing to apologize for, I’m sure you’re busy. Besides I had to get my day started, otherwise I would’ve been late picking her up.” She points to Cate who smiles sheepishly, still internally screaming over the fact that her friend is able to talk so easily to a celebrity.

Harry nods and looks at Cate again, “Just visiting I take it then?”

She nods quickly, words escaping her. Y/N chuckles under her breath and swoops in to save her friend any embarrassment. “Cate’s my best friend and she’s been kind enough to take time out of her extremely busy life to come look at my new house.”

He hums, still standing a respectful distance from their set-up. “Nice to meet you, Cate,” he says very kindly. Then he laughs, but in a way that is like he’s beside himself. The two women both quirk their heads at him. Y/N squints her eyes slightly, trying to understand the guy she is talking to and connecting him with the man that is all over the news all of the time for his musical genius.

“Now I know your dog and best friend’s names but still not yours. At this point, I’m begging you to tell me.”

They all laugh and Y/N feels nervous for the first time since Harry had walked up.

“You first,” she smiles slyly.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then go back to normal. Harry was very smart, she likely knew his name, but one, she was trying to be funny and two, she was also trying to be courteous. He preferred to introduce himself rather than just be told who he is, even if people already knew. It allowed him to maintain some normalcy.

“‘M Harry,” He says with a smile.

“Alright.” She says and then remains quiet.

Harry’s lips quirk up in a faint smile, amused at her expression.

“I thought it was a ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ type of situation or was I mistaken?” He finally asks when she remains silent still.

The two young women laugh and Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, both feeling flustered and completely in control at the same time.

“You weren’t mistaken, I was just thinking.” Then she pauses again and Cate thinks Harry is about to combust and Harry thinks he’s going to as well with all the anticipation that has been built up over his neighbor’s name, even though he was pretty sure he’d heard it in passing at one point or another but had forgotten quickly afterwards.

“It’s Y/N.”

Harry releases a facetious sigh of relief, “Oh thank god! Finally!” His words quickly turn into an infectious laugh that is paired with a shining smile and she feels like she’s swooning right then and there. The control has gone out the window and she’s taken with her neighbor. He’s wonderful in that moment and she forgets about Cate or the park or anything. It’s just Harry and how it seems like he’s smiling just for her.

“Now that I’ve gotten your name,” he smiles pointedly at her after his laughter has faded away. The smile doesn’t leave his face though, his eyes still crinkled, his dimples still showing.

She nods, encouraging him to continue. Cate feels like she’s watching a movie unfold in front of her and she wishes she could record the entire interaction.

“I can finally ask you, Y/N, where did you get that fabulous coat I saw you wearing yesterday?”

She twitches further upright, eyes bringing themselves directly inline with Harry’s gaze. “Oh,” she inhales, “The giraffe one, yeah?”

He nods.

“I got it from a Goodwill years ago. It’s some vintage company that used to only make sleepwear. I looked up the tag one time and it doesn’t exist anymore. Super cool, though. Wish I could buy more.”

“Yeah,” Harry says eagerly, even taking a step towards the women, “It was so intriguing. Maybe, if you didn’t mind of course -” he falters, losing his courage for a moment, “you could bring it over and my stylist could check it out. I would love something similar and I’m sure he could figure it out.”

She shrugs. It wasn’t crazy, especially not for Harry - she assumed. She was certain he often found things he liked but there was only one of them so he would just order his own. She couldn’t help the pride that was swelling inside her though it that moment. Harry Styles liking her jacket so much he asked where it was from and then wanting his stylist to look at it. She’d jump for joy when she was in the safety of her private home later tonight with Cate.

“One condition,” she says and Harry’s brows quirk amusedly at her.

“You are a very tit for tat person,” he muses.

“Fair’s fair,” she shrugs again and then looks around her quickly, “It’s simple so don’t get too worked up over it, buddy.”

He laughs slightly again and tries to figure out what she’s looking for. When she extends a scratched up, sticker-covered point and shoot film camera he smiles.

“Can you take a picture of Cate and I? It’s always just the two of us so we never have anyone to take pictures of us together.”

Harry grins at this and her sincere face. Cate is a little taken aback, because while it’s technically true, it’s not entirely factual. They have plenty of film pictures of them - maybe not recently though. And she wasn’t going to question Y/N right now. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Harry takes the camera and begins to look through the viewfinder. The women scoot closer together and Cate wraps her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. She leans in to press her cheek against her best friend. They smile up at the camera and Harry crouches slightly to get a better angle.

“Alright,” he mumbles, “Ready?...Cheese!”

Their smiles stay hung on their face as they listen for the click and when the faint sound befalls their ears, Cate laughs and Y/N pulls away. She reaches forward for the camera, her hand easily brushing Harry’s large one.

Their smiles meet each other and Cate can’t help but notice how they grow as the two of them look at one another.

“Thank you,” Y/N says sweetly and pulls back to retake her seat on the blanket.

Harry straightens up, his grin falling back into that signature smirk. “No problem.”

“So-” He begins but she cuts him off.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He clears his throat, feeling thrown off. “Yeah, sure. I guess next time I see you we can talk about when a good time would be for your jacket to come over?”

His voice raises at the end of his question a little more than usual, he’s trying to get her to bite, but she doesn’t seem like someone who is easily thrown off. He is trying to read her and she’s been completely cool the entire time. It’s intriguing. Even more so than the jacket, even though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, it wasn’t really his focus when he walked across the park to her and Cate.

“Yep! It was nice finally meeting you Harry.”

He feels the cue to walk off and says his farewells. As he walks off, back on course to his intended destination, his head is filled with questions. Most important of them being when he would see her again.

Cate and Y/N watch him walk towards the football fields. They see him meet with a group of men and it seems like they’re there to practice or play a game. Y/N couldn’t be sure.

“He likes you!” Cate finally bursts out.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Stop trying to make me take the piss. That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“It’s not! He likes you and you obviously like him, I mean, but we been knew.”

“Having a crush on the famous Harry Styles when you’re 17 is different than me liking my neighbour Harry.”

“But you like him don’t you? He’s even better than he was when he was 19. Now he’s all grown up and established and more your style anyway.”

“Shut up! He could hear you.”

“He really couldn't, he's yards away, you’re just paranoid.” Cate continues to tease and ridicule her best friend over Harry and Y/N is just about ready to up and leave, but she also can’t help but laugh it off.

“I’m literally gonna kick you out if you keep talking,” Y/N says between laughs and the women feel like they’re back in high school losing their minds over the stupidest joke ever.

“Okay, fine. But all I have to say is I will hold this over you when you end up together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever. Just be prepared to wait forever because I can promise you Harry Styles and I are never ending up together.”

--

Two Weeks Later

Y/N walked to her door after hearing the doorbell ring and opened it to find her neighbour standing with his arm raised ready to knock.

“Hey, Harry,” She greeted easily, but not entirely sure why he was here.

They hadn’t really seen each other since their official meeting in the park. It hadn’t bothered her and it hadn’t really bothered Harry either. It seemed like they both had extremely busy lives that they didn’t plan on throwing out the window because they had said they would meet up at some point. She liked that.

Harry had come over because he finally had a break in his schedule and was hoping to talk about the jacket and anything else really. He was interested in getting to know her and he didn’t care to hide it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something?” He asked, leaning himself against her door frame now.

Her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen a little bit, not completely sure she heard him correctly.

“Right now?!” She asked incredulously.

She was wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt and black bike shorts that peaked out from underneath the sweatshirt hem. One of her socks was shoved around her ankle while the other was pulled up flat to touch the base of her calf. She didn’t think she was looking the most presentable at the moment. She had been basking in her day off by simply laying on the couch watching hours of Netflix.

He nods, his smile growing on his face. Her flustered expression only made him happier. She was always so nonchalant with him, he wanted to see her a little more antsy.

“Unless you’re busy,” he adds seriously, not wanting to bother her, just wanting to spend time with her.

“No, no. I’m not...I’m not busy. I just wasn’t expecting any plans where I would be required to go out in public. Let me just...um, come inside and then give me five minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles again as he steps into her home.

Her smile is sheepish and much less genuine then the one Harry holds on his face as he takes in her abode. She tells him to make himself comfortable and then runs to her room to try and possibly fix her state in under five minutes.

She tears around her room, heaving off the frumpy sweatshirt and grabbing a long sleeve striped v-neck top she had hanging out half out of her hamper, a sign known to her that while it was clean enough to wear, if she happened to do laundry she should wash it. Slipping it over her head, she walks to her dresser and leans over to open the bottom drawer and unfolds a pair of dark wash oversized jeans. There’s no holes in them and she throws them on the bed so that she can slip out of her current pants. Next, onto the socks, she swaps out the current ones for a fresh black pair and finds her tortoise print boots to flick on. As she just about runs into her en suite bathroom, she zips the two boots up between steps. A quick comb through her hair, deodorant, two spritz of perfume, her eyelash curler and mascara and she’s running back to where Harry is waiting in her living room.

He blinks surprisedly at her promptness, usually giving people more time then what they say they need. She had indeed gotten ready in five minutes. He thought she looked breathtaking. And she felt like she was at a lack for breath in any case.

“It’s a bit cold out,” he glances to the window.

“Isn’t it always?” She smiles, finally catching her breath.

He chuckles and then nods, a smile appearing on his face as he feels a warmth in his chest at her wit.

“Ready?” He checks in.

She nods, grabbing a coat she kept hung by the door.

“Just the coffee shop down the way?” She inquires as they exit the house and she locks the door behind her.

Harry hums, waiting down a step for her to turn around and walk beside him. It was so strange to her, this felt all too normal with him. Like he was just a friend who had come to pick her up for coffee, her neighbor, nothing more.

“Did you hear the new season of the Crown is coming out soon?” Harry asks as they walk shoulder to shoulder (technically since her shoulder wasn’t in line with his).

“Really?” She looks at him, “I love that show!”

“Me too,” He looks at her and smiles happily.

“That’s amazing,” she breathes mostly to herself, half about the show and half about how Harry watches television and that he watches one of her favorite shows.

There’s silence. The brisk air pricking their cheeks as they walk down their street. Their puffs of breath create a slight mist of white ahead of them and then quickly dissipates.

Her eyes flit up to Harry’s chiseled jaw and face and she watches him as his eyes carefully and meaningfully take in his surroundings. Was it her turn to take a stab at conversation? It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but she just wasn’t sure what was going on.

“You play football right?” She says finally as they turn onto the next street that would bring them closer to the café they both frequented.

She remembered seeing him there on several occasions. The tips he left were always overly generous, which she assumed you could do when you were exorbitantly rich. He always smiled when he ordered and knew the baristas by name. His order rarely differed and she hated to admit but she knew his two regulars. His actual “regular” was a 12 ounce black coffee, dark roast, no cream and no sugar. The other, his “I’ll actually have”, was a 16 ounce iced green tea, no cream and no sugar.

She couldn’t help that she was observant and that when ‘H’ was called at the bar she looked at what was pushed out, patiently waiting for him to come snatch it up with a smile and nod to the workers before he left. Sometimes he’d even smile at her over the lid of his drink as he exited the establishment. It was warm and inviting and she felt good about the twinkle in his eye that never seemed to waver no matter the day.

Now they were going there together and she’d have to pretend like she’d never noticed what he got as a drink.

He responds to her question with another glance at her and a simple “yes”. His hands shove into his pockets and one side of his pink lips quirk up. He continues, “I’m on a local team with some mates. We’re in a little competition with our league. The final match is coming up this Sunday actually...You should come.”

He says it so casually it almost doesn’t catch her off guard. Harry inviting her to his football game, maybe this was going to be her life now. Going to her neighbours football match. Going to Harry Styles’ football match.

“Sunday…” She sounds out, choosing to look out into the distance instead of at him. “What time?”

“Eight.”

“P.M. right?” She responds quickly, worried since she never wakes up that early and rarely before 10 a.m. on the weekends for that matter.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

They’ve come upon the café and he’s quick to grab the handle to open the door and let her go before him. She can’t stop the blush and smile that spread on her face as she ducks her head into the warm and cozy shop. Men had opened doors for her before and she really thought of herself as a strong woman who didn’t need a man for anything, but something about Harry’s action felt especially, and specifically, chivalrous. Why, she had no idea.

Neither of them stop to look at the menu. They were regulars and they both knew that about each other as well. He gestures for her to go first and she mutters her thanks before turning to the patiently waiting barista. She orders and is about to hand over her card when Harry suavely steps in and says, “Don’t worry about it. I invited you with me, I’ll pay.”

It was both completely unexpected and expected at the same time. Knowing she’d never win this fight, she thanked him again, glanced at the man taking her order and then stepped aside. Harry orders his own drink and then pays for both. Today he leaves double the amount he usually leaves for tip, she assumes since it’s two drinks he was paying for.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” She says quietly to him once they’re in a corner of the café waiting for their drinks.

He stands slightly slumped against the wall, closer to her height right now. He only shrugs, his good natured smile not once leaving his face since he entered this place.

“I wanted to,” he said simply right as the drinks were ready since it wasn’t particularly busy on this random Friday afternoon.

They glance outside and see that it’s begun to drizzle while they’ve been inside. She sighs, having hoped to walk around a little after being inside all day.

Instead, they sit at the corner table in the café, across from each other. She moves on from the paying thing, knowing it was simply how this guy probably operated most of his life.

He got a black coffee today, the cold and rain likely contributing to that choice.

As one pop song fades out, slightly under the sound of the coffee machines, she’s about to tell Harry she’s pretty sure she can make his final football match when ‘Cardigan’ fades in. It’s the second time a Taylor Swift song has been playing while she’s been in the presence of Harry and they were conversing. She tries to ignore one of her favorite songs at the moment. Harry doesn’t seem to pay much mind to it. His foot is tapping against his other, but it’s been tapping like that since they sat down.

“I think I could probably make it to your game,” she says finally after a pause and a sip of her own drink.

Harry grins at the response and launches into how great it will be if they win and how happy everyone will be. She smiles along and doesn’t notice the slight head swaying to the song that she’s begun.

“Fan of Taylor?” Harry inquires and Y/N’s face drops, eyes widening cartoonishly.

She stutters, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth before she can actually say something. How does she respond about liking Taylor Swift to a man who counts her as an ex. She’s at a loss.

“Yeah, uh,” she finally starts.

Harry watches her curiously, obviously noticing her discomfort as his question.

“I used to not really consider myself a fan. I don’t really follow her just because I don’t really follow...um...musicians,” she chokes out the last word realizing Harry fits that category. “But, after folklore, I don’t know, this album really spoke to me. I also really like Lover and...uh” she pauses again, sticking on 1989, an album she has argued with her friends about how it’s basically a tell all of the man before her and Taylor’s relationship.

He nods, hoping she’ll continue. He wanted to get to know her and he kind of liked seeing her squirm. “1989?” He finally supplies.

Her blush isn’t able to be covered this time. If her hair didn’t fall in front of her ears she was sure they’d be flushed with blood.

Then she draws out of her own self stress and looks at the smooth man before her and grows calm. He was amazing at winding her up and she didn’t want to seem like some young, impressionable fangirl to him. So, she squared her shoulders and straightened up in her chair.

“Yes, it was pop perfection as one of my college friends liked to say. I’d always listen to it at the gym.” Then she pauses, taking a measured breath, gaining her confidence back. Her eyes meet his, “Is there any songs off it that you particularly enjoy, Mr. Styles.”

He chuckles, mostly because of her emphasis on ‘Style’.

“Shake it off?” He asks.

“Oh fuck off!” She laughs and he joins in with her.

When they catch their breaths from laughing, they simultaneously take sips of their drinks and settle their eyes back on one another. Exes and songs written about oneself weren’t exactly the topics Harry had in mind for the coffee outing he had asked Y/N out on, but talks of exes had never been this funny with anyone else. He was grateful for her playfulness, her demeanor.

“Can I ask you something personal?” She asks quietly and seriously.

“I think we’re past that question, love,” he responds.

“Yeah, I guess,” she pauses and just about whispers, “Pretty much all of them are about you right?”

He shrugs again, his felt coat rustling around his seat. “We never really talked about every single song.”

She leans forward at the ‘we’ Harry is using about himself and Taylor Swift.

“But when I listen to the songs, I hear us in just about every one but a few.”

“Wow,” she breathes and sips her drink. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lived through something that intense and then someone commemorated in a masterpiece.”

“Do you have a favorite on that album?” He asks, moving on from her revelation.

“I love ‘I know places’, it has a cool sound. But I also really love ‘Wonderland’. They both have kind of dark sounds, yet it still is like what you have is so special that the bad bits are worth it. I don’t know, it just seems like a tv show. I don’t think my life could ever be that crazy or dramatic.” She doesn’t notice her use of ‘you’ because she had meant it as a form of analyzing the song theoretically as she had done hundreds of times with her friends,  but this time the ‘you’ is literally the ‘you’ the song is talking about.

“Love can turn anyone’s life chaotic.” Harry muses.

The green eye’s that flashed at Taylor throughout that album look at Y/N from across the table and she feels a flip in her stomach at his tone.

Maybe he notices her mild discomfort, maybe that’s just who he is. But after a beat, Harry’s onto the next topic on his mind. He launches into how he’s just returned from Scotland for a shoot for something so undercover he can’t even divulge to her, much to his dismay. She’s taken aback since she didn’t consider her someone Harry would divulge any of his private matters to, but it seemed like he already considered her a confidant. Just not for that. He wants it to be a surprise.

She smiles and listens attentively. She wonders as he goes on about his interesting yet absurdly lavish life whether he even knows what regular life is like anymore. Or if he’d even enjoy it if he experienced it.

Sure, coffee and football were plenty part of regular life . But the football league was something novel to Harry. He had just gotten to do it and he was thrilled by its normalcy.

She regarded him carefully, unsure what the next step was in this budding friendship. Was it dangerous to get involved with someone’s life which seemed to be filled with whirlwind rigor and constant change.

She liked her chaos, don’t get her wrong. She felt like she often was the odd one out in life. Always thinking differently than the ones around her. She often was the one to suggest spontaneous late night trips around town or exploration of an abandoned building known for spooky stories. She liked inviting friends over for themed parties for no specific occasions and she liked taking film pictures of friends like they were models even though it was only for her and her memories. She thought of herself as silly and fun, but what Harry described as his chaotic fun actually was regimented tight schedules of constant travel and work. Interesting experiences came out of that constant travel and work, but didn’t seem like something she necessarily wanted to get herself wrapped up in.

After coffee, they leave the café and it’s pouring now. Instead of going home, Harry insists on walking her to her place. She relents, realizing, once again, that Harry wasn’t someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. She then invites him in because it’s the polite thing to do. And Harry being Harry accepts.

“Want a dry sweatshirt while you wait?” She asks as she slips off her wet shoes and jacket in the entryway. Harry follows suit, his knit sweater being pelted with rain for the last eight minutes left him feeling cold and shivery.

He nods as he toes off his shoes and ventures back to the living room she had him wait in a few hours ago.

“Here,” She says as she tosses a grey sweatshirt in his direction. She believes it's her one from earlier, an innocuous pullover with ‘London’ in collegiate lettering on the front. He catches it as she rounds the corner to turn up the heater.

Her mistake was being so careless to not look at the sweatshirt before handing it over to her neighbor. Anyone else, maybe they wouldn’t have questioned it. But Harry, how could he not.

“What’s this?”

“A sweatshirt,” she doesn’t spare him a glance on the coach as she fiddles with the thermostat.

“It’s one of my sweatshirts,” Harry says and she can hear the smile on his face.

“That’s impossible, I’ve never borrowed-” Her brows had raised at what he said but now her words fall short.

He didn’t mean one of his personal sweatshirts that she possibly borrowed if they were better friends. No. He meant his merchandise.

“It was a gift,” she sighs as she turns to face him. He’s now wearing the sweatshirt proudly and grinning up at her smugly.

She rolls her eyes when he gives her a knowing smile.

“I didn’t know that it was the one I was handing you. Honest!”

“I thought you didn’t “keep up” with musicians,” Harry says playfully, his fingers making quotes appropriately.

“I don’t.” Her tone is serious as she plops on the couch beside Harry.

“I enjoy your music from time to time. Is that a crime?!” She finally exclaims when she can’t handle Harry’s knowing smirk.

“No it’s not, you could have just told me you were a fan!” She tries to stop him and protest that she wouldn’t consider herself a fan, but he continues, “I still would have wanted to have been friends.You’re one of the liveliest neighbors I’ve got. Everyone else on the street is rather dull.”

She chuckles, remembering finding out quickly that the street wasn’t a lively bunch.  

“I just wouldn’t say I’m a fan,” she presses and sits across from him.

He continues smiling like he knows the truth.

“I don’t think you’ve met an average person in awhile, Harry.” She finally says after they sat in silence for a few minutes because they were both too stubborn to be the first to talk.

“I would hardly call you average if that’s what you’re implying, Y/N.” He nods her way and he shifts on her plush couch, his legs adjusting themselves on their own accord. “And I know plenty of average people,” he adds huffily.

“I normally wouldn’t either, but compared to who you seem to surround yourself, I very much am. And that’s not meant to be a jab at anyone involved.”

His right hand sneaks up to his head to scratch at the base of a particularly perfect curl. His eyes squint a bit as his mind processes her claim.

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’m just curious to see if you’d actually like me in your life. It seems like you want to be friends with me and that’s great, but realistically I don’t know how much I would fit into it.”

Harry scoffs, “That’s literally bullshit, just relax. I’m so chill you won’t even know what to do with me.”

Now it’s her turn to scoff. “Chill?!” She asks incredulously. Harry nods with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before.

“When’s the next time you’re flying off to another country for work?”

Harry pauses, “Um...the day after the final match. I’m beginning to film a movie, so I’ll be there for a month.”

“Busy bee,” she muses and they both chuckle.

There’s something about the somber look Harry is giving her. His eyes twinkled in the coffee shop and with playful winks she was excited to be in his presence. But after she mentions when his next trip is, he seems saddened. There’s skepticism behind his eyes and maybe he doesn’t like being challenged about who he is from other people, especially those who are new in his life.

But that’s who Y/N is, she’s straightforward and doesn’t lie to someone. If Harry was now her friend, she was going to tell it like it is to him. That personality trait she worried wouldn’t make her long for his world.

“So the cardigan? Do you have it here?” Harry changes the subject, clearly not wanting to actually consider a realistic friendship together instead just charging ahead with no hesitation. Whatever happened they would deal with it as it came. Maybe she should just go with the flow, let herself be swept up into his madness. Maybe it would be easier than fighting it.

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I do, I was joking. Where else would it be?” Her tone is light, trying to get back the shine she had seen Harry exhibit before it had vanished.

Maybe that was Harry’s effect on people. He was vibrant and like an Elton John song. You never wanted that shine to go away, never wanted the song to end. Never wanted him to stop shining his light on you. She felt this happening in just a few hours with him. When he was happy so was she and when he wasn’t entirely shining she wanted to do whatever she could to get it back.

A smile curls on his face and his green eyes narrow slightly. He’s trying to figure her out, know what she’s all about.

“Do you want to go and grab it?” His voice sweetening, almost like a tease. Maybe he means to bite his lip, maybe he doesn’t, but the effect on her is nonetheless earthshaking.

She pops up and smiles back, happy to have made him happy. As she walks out of the room to go get the cardigan that had started this all, her head tilts and she furrows her brow wondering why she felt such a sense of pride just for making him happy.

Would this man cause her to finally put someone else’s wishes ahead of hers?

-

“Are you on your way?”

She listens to Harry’s slightly worried voice crackle over the speaker of her phone as she shuts her door with the hand not holding her phone to her ear. His voice is raspy and muffled. She assumes it’s from the cold air of London at night and the scarf he is likely got wrapped around his neck.

“Yes! Jeez, I’m on my way. Walking over right now.”

It’s the final match for Harry’s football team and if they win the game then they get a trophy and it’s all Harry has been talking about since they got coffee and she handed over her cardigan.

Harry huffed an “alright” on the other side of the line and she called a “see you soon” before hanging up.

He was both eager for Y/N to come and possibly meet some of his teammates and a few of his close friends who he had invited and for her to arrive so that she wasn’t walking out late at night alone. He hadn’t known her for long, but he felt a certain protectiveness over her. She was relatively alone here, only two friends at work that she had mentioned and everyone else lived far away. She said she didn’t mind it, but Harry had a hard time understanding it since he surrounded himself with his friends as much as he could and was constantly either traveling or having them travel to see him.

He had even contemplated inviting her to come to Los Angeles with him for a month, but knew she would remind him of her ever important job that she couldn’t just randomly take a month off.

He’d have to ask her what exactly she did because every time he tried to remember, it always slipped his mind.

When her figure came into sight below the fluorescent lights, he breathed a sigh of relief. A grin spread on his face as she beamed at him and waved a bit. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see how special she was. Every time he saw her he felt himself straighten up and feel a bubbling in his chest. Her smile was infectious and the way her eyes glittered when she looked away quickly and then returned eye contact made him want to stay in her presence forever.

“You made it!” Harry said and scooped her up in his arms, not realizing just how happy he was to see her, swinging her around in a half circle.

She laughs in surprise, but appreciates the warmth Harry’s hug offers her. She’s not quite sure they had ever touched each other before this moment beside shoulder brushes and hand touches. Nothing so...purposeful.

“I made it,” she confirms and pats him on his broad shoulders.

Questions in her mind raced as she questioned whether it was normal for friendships to happen like this. She knew in college friendships could happen this quickly. And that’s when it dawned on her, she really hadn’t made a new friend since college and that was why everything with Harry was so odd to her. She had forgotten what new friendship was. She needed to stop questioning everything and just live in the moment with a person she really liked being with.

Harry’s hands move from her waist and one stays to lead her forward so he can introduce her to some of his mates, as he had promised.

She felt at home in that moment. His hand on the small of her back, his heat radiating off of him and her hair swept behind her ears and her cheek pressed to his shoulder staring up at him sweetly.

She meets Charlotte, a member of Harry’s band who lives in London, her boyfriend, Mitch (who had just happened to find himself in Hampstead this weekend), Ben, and a few more people she couldn’t remember all the names of.

Harry’s team wins the game and Y/N’s not sure if she’s ever seen someone so happy to win an adult league football match. There wasn’t any official trophy except the one Harry had made himself and said he would even give to the other team if they won. It was engraved with the words “The World’s Greatest Football Team of Stars Ever. October 22, 2020”. It doesn’t even make sense but she’d been holding it for the entire night as he played.

He goes down the line of his friends who have been watching and gives them all jubilant kisses on the lips. When he reaches Y/N she holds out the trophy and he grins and gives her a kiss on the cheek. His lips are surprisingly soft and his scratchy stubble tickles her and she swiftly pulls back, a smile on her face and blush on her cheeks nonetheless.

Charlotte and Mitch share a look between the two of them and Ben’s eyes narrow slightly at the interaction. His eyes narrow just as they had when Harry had strutted over to the group with Y/N before the game. He had happily named everyone and she had shaken all of their hands with a warm smile on her lips. Ben had regarded her warily and she had shaken it off as the chill of the night air. But there it was again, not quite trusting of the neighbour girl Harry had just randomly befriended a few days ago.

The team and the friends of the team decide they deserve to celebrate this win, mostly at the request of Harry.

Y/N tries to find a time to leave, to return to her place so she can prepare for her day at work tomorrow. But no excuses will be heard from Harry and she has a hard time saying no to his sparkling eyes and gorgeous grin that she’s growing far too accustomed to.

She’s ushered down to the closest pub with the rest of them and finds herself chatting with Charlotte’s boyfriend. He’s the most...normal. She’s not sure how to explain it, but he doesn’t seem to be regarding her as different, unlike every other one of Harry’s friends. They were all perfectly nice and cordial with her, but she just felt like she wasn’t a part of their group, their world and she didn’t know how to explain it.

Charlotte and Mitch are rather nice too, but they’re more reserved with her. They’re musicians, like Harry, and they somewhat have that air of awareness around them that Harry sometimes gets. She thinks it’s from the fame, having to constantly be wary of who is around you, what everyone is doing, what is happening next. She doesn’t mind it, it’s just not something she’s used to.

She wishes she could just throw back some drinks and she could allow herself to be more...well just be more. More of a presence, more of herself, but she has a job she has to get to bright and early. Tomorrow was Monday and for her that meant work. So she sips a beer that Harry insisted be on his tab and she makes small talk with Charlotte’s boyfriend about how he’s been helping her produce her first EP. Charlotte occasionally pops in when she hears her name, but mostly is conversing with Mitch over something silly. Y/N knows because they keep laughing.  

Harry is going around to just about everyone in the party and she watches as he happily talks with every one of his friends. He’s ecstatic and she wonders if she’s ever experienced happiness like he has.

At midnight she attempts to make a French exit, as her mother always called it, and slip away with little to no farewells, but Harry spots her before she can.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry asks loudly, the euphoria of winning his silly little game and drinking a fair amount of pints has him at his peak boisterity.

“I have work tomorrow,” she says warily, slumping slightly from the weight of Harry’s arm slinging around her shoulder.

He turns serious and straightens up slightly, his green eyes looking especially dark in the pubs dim lighting as they look her dead in the eye. “Let me walk you home.”

“I can get home by myself,” she laughs, shrugging off his hold. “Plus, the host can’t leave his own celebration.” She gestures to everyone else happily celebrating on a Sunday, somehow not bothered by the beginning of the average week.

He steps closer, his brow furrowing for the first time that night. One of his large hands raises to his tousled hair and he runs it through the tresses. He even nibbles at his lower lip as he contemplates his decision. Then quickly and suddenly, he makes up his mind,

“No, I’ll escort you. Can’t have my neighbour walk home this late alone. I’ll just leave my card with Mitch. He’ll settle up the tab.” He smiles at his perfect plan and she grimaces feeling slightly embarrassed that he would leave his friends to walk her home. “Won’t you Mitch?” Harry calls as he grabs his coat from the wall next to the door. Mitch simply nods and Harry yells his farewells, Y/N waves meekly.

“That was...interesting,” she mulls over her words as they walk through the cold night air outside of the pub.

“Amazing, right?” Harry speaks over her less enthusiastic voice.

“You have a lot of friends,” she mused, trying to sound less disheartened than she had in her last statement.

Harry only hums and shivers slightly from the cold. His breath comes clearly out in puffs in the cold night air. Y/N’s is muffled by her scarf wrapped tightly up to her chin. She’s tucked his face as far into it as possible but her nose won’t stop from freezing as they walk.

Her hand goes up to it and she rests her palm to the tip of it. The motion grabs Harry’s attention and he looks directly at her curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freezing,” she muffles out, “This helps my cold nose not be so..cold.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder and she easily folds into him, welcoming any warmth right now.

After another moment of silence and them enjoying each other’s warmth and slight smell of whatever perfumes they had chosen earlier that night as well as beer and wood of the pub, Harry nuzzles his head above hers and then asks her something.

“Was that overwhelming for you?”

She’s quiet, thankful his eyes can’t reach hers right now. He was too powerful with those things.

“I, um, a little. I just...I just realized today that I haven’t made a new friend since college outside of work and it was overwhelming just hanging out with you. So all of your friends as well, yeah, it was a bit much for me.”

Harry looks out at the empty street ahead of them and sighs in realization. In his excitement, he hadn’t accounted how she might have felt tonight until just now. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of her feelings, but other’s feelings slipped his mind so easily sometimes.

They round their street corner and she nuzzles back into his side.

“I’m sorry, love.” He rubs at her outer arm, “I didn’t think about it like that. I was just so excited for my plan to come together. Maybe next time, it’ll just be a couple of them rather than so many?”

“Sure,” she says quickly, wanting to make him happy, knowing how much he cared about his friends. “I feel like we need to hang out more with just you before I osmos into your friend group though if I’m being honest.”

“Well that can definitely be arranged,” he says and reluctantly lets go of her body. They’ve arrived at her door.

“I also want to see the inside of your house at some point.” She tugs at one of his hands before it can disappear into his warm coat pocket. “Houses,” she corrects.

“That can also be arranged,” Harry smiles with his lips closed. Pink lips and rosy cheeks extra bright from the cold. He plays with her fingers as the two stand close to one another, happy for the alone time and chalking the proximity up to heat sharing.

“You leave tomorrow right?” She finally asks.

His head falls and he sighs.

“Yeah…”

“It’s just a month,” she smiles, trying to stop Harry from being so dramatic. Especially when there was no logical reason for him to be so upset over not seeing his neighbour - she keeps telling herself.

“Are you sure you can’t quit your job and just fly out with me?” He pleads.

She throws her head back in laughter and shifts closer to him, her front porch light illuminating and shadowing every perfect place on Harry’s gorgeous face.

“Not even a chance.”

“That is a shame,” he takes an experimental step closer and she feels his breath fan across her cheeks at his last word.

She wrinkles his nose at the smell of his last beer, even though coming from him it was endearing.

Just as she feels him being to shift his head closer, she steps forward and gives him a tight hug.

“Goodnight Harry,” she whispers into his ear, “Safe travels.”

Then she’s stepping back and swiftly unlocking her door. She moves it slowly so as to not wake Rori and then Harry’s left alone and dumbfounded on her doorstep.

He definitely preferred being with her alone, but now he didn’t even have that chance until next month. And nonetheless she had just sidestepped his kiss with such ease he’s not even sure if he meant to kiss her. It had felt right, but why? Because it was cold and picture perfect? Or because he was enchanted by her and liked her as more than a new friend?

She slumps in her kitchen and fixes an Emergen-C to stave off the chill of the night and any germs that might have been lurking around the pub. She hopes when she walks to her bedroom she can check the front porch and see that Harry has gone home because she would hate to turn the light off on him.

How could he have expected her to kiss him just then? They’ve only just met each other a few weeks ago? And he’s Harry Styles and she just lives in the neighbourhood. What the actual fuck had happened to her life?

[oumakokichi]

So what do you think of Kaede and Kokichi's relationship? And if Kaede remained the protagonist how do you think it would change?

Considering it’s Kaede’s birthday today I think this is a really fun question to come back to!

Kaede is an absolutely amazing character, and I love how different her relationships with the rest of the cast feel from Saihara’s. She and Ouma have an especially interesting friendship in their FTEs together (one of Kaede’s FTEs with Ouma might be one of my favorite FTEs ever, really), so I don’t mind going a little more in-depth on my thoughts about their dynamic, as well as about how that dynamic and the story itself might’ve changed if Kaede had remained the protagonist!

Warning for spoilers as always, though I’m pretty sure most people know about the chapter 1 twist by now.

I think one of my absolute favorite things about Kaede is just how easy it is to get attached to her in such a short amount of time. She’s only around for the prologue and a single chapter, but despite that (or rather, because of the sheer length of the chapters in ndrv3, which tend to be much longer than dr1 or sdr2’s chapters), we still get to see so many different sides of her and just how complex of a character she really is. And I think that’s largely the reason for her continued popularity to this day: Kaede might not stay around for long, but we still really feel like we know her by the end of it.

And really, I think that’s pretty similar to how the actual characters feel about Kaede themselves. Despite how short her time is with all of them, she leaves such a powerful, lasting impression, even after her death. This is a pretty big change from previous DR games, where the chapter 1 culprits especially tend to suffer a pretty big lack of relevance or relationship to other characters in later chapters. Often times the victims are at least somewhat memorable (Maizono and the Impostor both at least come up a few times in their respective games), but characters like Leon or Teruteru just don’t feel like they have much of an impact on the other characters or the plot itself after their trials are finished.

This is totally different from Kaede, whose positive outlook and outgoing attitude already makes her fairly likable to most of the others, but who also openly invites the others to rely on her once she establishes herself as a leader figure fairly quickly in chapter 1. Most of the other characters latch onto her almost immediately, either because she seems so reliable and helpful (Saihara and Tenko in particular seem to like this about her), or because they can’t help but respect her and what she’s trying to do for the group (characters like Momota, who really values group cooperation, come to mind).

Personally, I think Ouma fell into the latter category. He and Kaede have something of a complicated relationship almost right from the get-go in chapter 1, but it’s still pretty clear that Ouma did respect Kaede a lot and recognized that she had the group’s best interests at heart, even if he didn’t always agree with her methods.

Likewise, I think Kaede was somewhat curious about Ouma and really wanted to get along with him, despite how difficult he could be. We see in Ouma’s introduction, both in the demo and the actual game, that Kaede clearly recognizes on some level that part of his annoying attitude is really just his way of teasing others, and that he doesn’t seem particularly malicious. More specifically, she describes him as “having a childish streak that makes him hard to hate,” which is a pretty spot-on description of Ouma in a nutshell. In short, she knew he was annoying and childish (on purpose, most of the time) but she definitely didn’t think of him as evil or cruel. This may in part also be because she didn’t live long enough to see him embrace the fake villain routine by the end of chapter 4, of course.

Ouma has a few teasing remarks throughout most of the game, but it’s not really until the death road of despair is discovered that he and Kaede butt heads for the very first time. This is because of a big, fundamental difference between their ideologies: while both of them very much have the group’s best interests at heart, they completely disagree when it comes to whether it’s worth it to cooperate as a team or not.

By the end of the game, Ouma is extremely paranoid, refusing to cooperate with absolutely anyone unless it’s out of some mixture of chance and necessity (such as working with Momota in chapter 5). He keeps all his cards close to the chest, and refuses to confide in or trust any of his remaining classmates, believing it’s fully possible any of them could be the ringleader.

But before the events of chapter 4, we see that he’s actually not opposed to the idea of selective cooperation. He strikes up a tentative collaboration with Miu early on, commissioning her to create some extremely useful inventions with the intent of using them to try and end the killing game. He also extends an invitation of cooperation to both Kaede (in one of her FTEs) and Saihara (in chapter 4, in the parlor of the VR world), though he goes about this in such a sly, underhanded, and off-putting way that both of them shoot his offer down flat. Even he’s not beyond the idea of teaming up with people he perceives as “useful” or “smart,” as long as it’s a much smaller, one-on-one effort rather than trusting or working with the entire group.

By contrast, Kaede is someone who believes that group unity is almost a necessity if they want to escape the killing game. This is very much in line with the role she establishes for herself as a leader. Unlike characters like Momota, who has always sort of longed to embrace a “hero” role, or Saihara, who is considerably more awkward and unwilling to be a leader because of how guilty he feels, Kaede’s role is much more about boosting and maintaining the group’s morale.

This is lampshaded several times by the classical music pieces that she references, often in an attempt to either clam the others down or fire them up at the idea of working together and escaping. It’s also a fantastic little clue that her own positive outlook is something a bit more crafted than it seems on the surface; she always tries to be optimistic about things and face her problems head-on, but that’s in large part because she tries to energize herself and present that reliable, dependable persona to the rest of the group. In short, she believes that if she reveals her own uncertainty or lack of faith in her plans, the rest of the group’s trust and morale will fall too.

Like I mentioned, this difference in their outlook is really what begins to cause problems for them once they discover the death road of despair in chapter 1. Kaede sees the tunnel as their one opportunity to escape without having to rely on the killing game itself; even if it’s extremely difficult and damn near impossible to get through it, the chance of injury is a risk she’s willing to take, no matter how many times they have to start over. But Ouma disagrees with this mindset and criticizes her in front of the entire group, pointing out how everyone else is already exhausted and even injured, and saying that she has no right to make that decision for the rest of them.

He even goes a step further and accuses her of strong-arming the rest of them by “denying them the right to give up in an impossible situation.” He claims that by positing herself as an inspirational figure, she has the “moral high-ground” no matter what the rest of them do or say, and clearly doesn’t think it’s possible for them to continue down the death road without someone getting seriously injured, or worse.

These harsh words really take Kaede aback, especially since most of the rest of the group seems to more or less agree with Ouma. She’s extremely hurt—not just by the fact that no one seems to really want to keep going with her plan, but also, I think, because she felt as if Ouma was right on some level. In my opinion, this is why she cries once she’s alone in her room later: because she did feel as though she’d forced everyone else to go along with an unreasonable plan. It’s the first time that we really see the cracks in her leader persona beginning to show, as well as the self-doubt that she carries.

I honestly think many people who dislike Ouma on their first playthrough of the game may have started here, right at this moment. Because so much of this seems to be fairly black-or-white initially—Kaede is presented as the unequivocally good heroine, trying to get everyone to work together and escape, and Ouma by contrast seems mean and unreasonable for arguing with her in front of everyone. We’re not supposed to linger on the fact that he makes several good points about everyone else’s safety and exhaustion because how he goes about it is off-putting and unlikable.

Not only that, but we as first-time players aren’t supposed to know about all the similarities that Ouma and Kaede actually have in common, despite their differences on the matter of group cooperation. We’re not supposed to know just yet that they both want to save the group, no matter what it takes, or that both of them are willing to go to extreme, sometimes morally grey measures in order to try and stop the killing game. We’re not supposed to know right away that Ouma can be every bit as self-sacrificing as Kaede, despite the selfish things that he says in front of the others, or that when push comes to shove, Kaede is willing to lie almost as much as he is.

We don’t know any of that, initially—which is why that scene hits so hard and sets Ouma up to be so unpleasant. But I think going back on a replay and evaluating it again is pretty interesting specifically because of all these similarities that I’ve listed. The fact that they clash here is especially interesting, given the sort of roles they embody to the rest of the group, with Kaede deliberately choosing to be someone that the entire group relies on and finds trustworthy, while Ouma later sets himself up to become a villain who’s hated by everyone. And despite this, their goals are largely one and the same: expose the ringleader and end the killing game.

I think it’s specifically because Kaede realized she couldn’t continue pushing everyone to do the things she wanted them to, no matter how badly she wanted everyone to cooperate and escape together, and that’s ultimately why she turns to Plan B when she hears from Saihara about the bookshelf hiding the ringleader’s lair in the library. And for all that she does want to trust and cooperate with everyone else, she actually goes about this plan in the most Ouma-like way possible: by doing everything herself and without telling anyone her real intentions, not even Saihara.

Something I especially like about Kaede as a character is just how nuanced she is. Because she is simultaneously the brave, trustworthy, outgoing protagonist that we see her as, but she’s also so, so much more than that. She’s fiercely determined and cares about everyone else, yes, but it’s also because she cares so much that she’s willing to do things like lie and attempt murder behind everyone else’s back.

If we look at the audition videos as any sort of clue as to what the characters might’ve been like before the start of the game, I do think there was a somewhat more skeptical, cynical side of Kaede deep down that didn’t quite trust other people—and that’s all the more reason she wanted to trust them and work together with all of them, because she knew exactly how hard it was to do so. It’s such an interesting contrast from Ouma, who could easily have used all his lies and charm to cooperate with people if he wanted to, but who instead continually pushes people away because of his skepticism, all the while pretending to act completely arrogant and self-assured in his plans. Deep down, I think both of them were much more vulnerable than they were ever willing to show in front of other people.

And I think by the end of chapter 1, Ouma became more or less aware of that side of Kaede, once she confesses everything she tried to do to end the killing game. Prior to this, I personally think Ouma still very much liked and respected her guts and her attempts at leading the group, but that he ultimately thought she was doomed by her reliance on trust and cooperation when they didn’t even know who the ringleader was within their group. But I think that after hearing just how far she was willing to go to stop the killing game, including but not limited to lying to everyone else and going behind their backs with her own plan, he couldn’t help but respect her even more. Despite his accusations that she was too soft or naïve for trusting everyone else, her actual attempted solution was far closer to his own outlook than he initially gave her credit for.

This is why, just before Kaede is about to be executed, Ouma drops all of his usual acts and facades with her and gives her a sincere goodbye, telling her that she “wasn’t boring.” And this is really the highest compliment someone like Ouma can give: she did take him by surprise and surpass all his expectations from her, and I do believe he was genuinely sad to see her go when she attempted such a huge sacrifice for everyone else’s sakes.

Truly, the only part of her plan that I think he disagreed with was the act of (attempted) murder in and of itself. He felt that despite her good intentions, she had “crossed a line” that shouldn’t be crossed, and that she fell into the ringleader’s trap the moment the idea of murder crossed her mind. Considering how much DICE’s “no murder” taboo guided Ouma throughout the game, it’s not surprising at all that this is where he disagreed with Kaede. Though ironically, he himself crosses the same line in chapter 4 when he decides the only possible solution to Miu’s attempt on his life is to kill her himself, and therefore winds up getting his hands dirty without ever directly committing murder, much like Kaede herself.

Questioning how they might’ve gotten along if Kaede had actually lived past chapter 1 and continued being the game’s protagonist is interesting, mainly because so many factors would change as a result. Kaede and Saihara are so fundamentally different as protagonists, and Kaede herself is much more in line with what we would expect from a Hope’s Peak protagonist instead. Kodaka himself has described her in an interview as being extremely similar to Asahina, and I personally think she’s something of a combination between Asahina’s outgoing attitude and Maizono’s carefully crafted façade (not to mention moral ambiguity). So it stands to reason that the game and its themes wouldn’t quite be the same if Kaede were still the protagonist.

On the one hand, I do think there would be interesting potential for a possible alliance between her and Ouma, especially given how similar they could both be. Ouma himself proposes such an alliance to her in one of his FTEs, though she does get angry and shoots him down, as I mentioned earlier. But it’s interesting to consider if Kaede might’ve been more willing to cooperate in smaller, one-on-one alliances if she had attempted her plan in chapter 1 and failed without getting executed for it.

There’s also the fact that Ouma claims to remember her and everyone else adamantly in his FTEs with her, even going so far as to claim that she and everyone else forgot about him, even though he never forgot about them. It’s unclear whether he’s referring to his memories from before the game still being intact (which is likely, since he’s pretty skeptical of the flashback lights right away), or if there’s some other explanation for it, but personally, I don’t think it can be dismissed as a complete lie. Even if Kaede herself accuses him of lying and making it all up, he goes uncharacteristically blank and claims that “even he’s not that good at lying.”

This adds huge potential to Kaede sticking around, as there could easily be an underlying mystery element. In addition to the trials themselves and the mystery of the outside world, it’d be very possible to explore their dynamic further, as well as why Ouma said the things he did and if he was actually telling the truth about knowing her and everyone else from before. Kaede is absolutely persistent enough that I feel like she would’ve pressed him for details about this, especially once it became clear in the main plot that their memories were unreliable.

On the other hand, it’s really unclear if Ouma would’ve still been willing to offer that alliance to Kaede once she had attempted to commit murder. Assuming the events of chapter 1 stay more or less the same and the only difference is that Kaede survives instead of getting executed, this raises some potential problems with Ouma actually working together with her or trusting her. She did, as he puts it, “cross the line”—even if her murder attempt wasn’t successful, Ouma claims that she was already too far gone the moment she even considered murder as a possible solution. This could definitely cause another clash of opinions between them, especially as Ouma is much too paranoid to work directly with anyone who he thinks might kill him.

Another potential source of conflict in my opinion is the Hope’s Peak flashback light in chapter 5. Unlike Saihara, who deals primarily with questions of “truth or lies” and is ultimately able to see through Tsumugi’s false ultimatum in chapter 6 with the choice of either the “hope ending” or “despair ending,” Kaede is, as I mentioned, much more in line with what you’d expect from a Hope’s Peak protagonist. She’s extremely smart of course, but she has a bit of a reckless, headstrong streak where she tends to act based on emotion rather than reason, and this could get her into quite a lot of trouble once Tsumugi started rewriting everyone’s memories in chapter 5.

Saihara was able to see that both of the choices Tsumugi presented in the final trial were bullshit and would ultimately keep the cycle of Danganronpa ongoing, but I’m not entirely sure if Kaede would realize the same thing, or even if she did eventually realize it, I’m not sure it would’ve been in time to stop it. Because of her self-sacrificing nature, I personally think she would’ve chosen to be one of the sacrifices for the sake of “hope,” much like Amami presumably did in season 52. This ultimately means that Kaede sticking around might have ultimately led to a “bad end” of sorts, where even if the rest of the group went free aside from her and one other sacrifice, Danganronpa itself never gets dismantled and lives to see another season.

The only possible way I see for Kaede to avoid falling into this trap and making this choice is if enough of her classmates rubbed off on her or helped her see things in less black-or-white terms like “hope” or “despair,” and in more nuanced shades of grey instead. But considering how completely fooled almost everyone was in the actual events of the game, it’s difficult to say if this would happen. She would definitely need to talk and debate with someone who viewed the flashback lights a lot more skeptically, whether it was Saihara or Ouma (or maybe even Angie), before she could reach the truth about what Tsumugi and Team Danganronpa were really after.

This analysis has gotten pretty long by this point, so I’ll just wrap things up by saying that I really do love Kaede and Ouma’s friendship, and I think they had more potential of getting along than either of them might’ve realized in canon. Despite their fundamental differences, both of them were two characters who went farther than almost anyone else in trying to stop the killing game, and both of them weren’t afraid of getting their hands dirty if necessary. I think the fact that Ouma claims to remember Kaede and everyone else from before the killing game is super interesting, and I would’ve absolutely loved to see it touched on more if Ouma had lived longer.

All in all, Kaede is such an amazing, morally grey character who really helps to establish what we can expect from the rest of the game, and I think that’s part of what makes her so memorable. Maybe one day we’ll get some sort of DR:IF equivalent where we get a semi-canon look into a scenario where everyone lives, and hopefully there we could see not only more of Kaede being a protagonist figure, but also more of her interactions with Ouma and everyone else.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Thoughts on the ship Rosalie/Bella?

While it’s a nice thought, sadly, I don’t think either Rosalie or Bella are what the other would ever seek in a partner.

Indeed, I think the other would be too close of a reminder to what they see in the worst of themselves. So, even in better circumstances, I don’t think they’d choose each other.

Let’s break that down.

What is Rosalie Looking For?

Rosalie’s past is one filled with brutal trauma, betrayal, and heartbreak. She has been violated by men in the worst of ways, betrayed by the man she thought would be her husband, and then has the surreal experience of being turned into something that, while alive, is not human.

She romanticizes the human life she could have had, clinging to it, never acknowledging that circumstances were such that she never would have had it.

Rosalie never was going to get that simple future of being a humble, good, simple man’s wife with beautiful children and a comfortable life. She was raised in society, uncommonly beautiful and charming, and was set to marry the wealthiest man she could. It might not have been Royce, she could have married a good man, but she would have married into this wealthy world and not ended up with someone like Emmett.

I think this is very telling.

For very understandable reasons, Rosalie has never confronted nor truly gotten over her trauma. Oh, she murdered her rapists and murderers, and put their deaths behind her, she married Emmett and has a (fairly) good relationship with him, but she hasn’t taken her full final steps to recovery.

I think this in part shows in her ending up with a guy like Emmett.

Emmett’s not bad, don’t get me wrong, but it’s very telling in what he loves of Rosalie and that Rosalie loves him for it.

He worships her beauty above all other things and is described as a very simple but pleasant and laidback guy. I think Rosalie is at the point where she wants to be worshipped, especially for the quality that was most valued in her human life, her beauty.

She wants to be with someone safe, someone who loves her, and that someone is definitely Emmett.

I think in the short run this works out very well for the pair of them and perhaps even in the long run. I think both could have chosen a better partner.

Rosalie is complicated, she’s not the shallow vain bitch Edward complains she is nor is she what Emmett seems to see her as. Emmett doesn’t really get his wife, or defend her all that much, he’s in love with her beautiful cheerleader persona. Rosalie, similarly, is in love with this man whose greatest attribute is his love of her. I’m sure there are moments she finds Emmett rather boorish and slow on the uptake.

What Do I Think Rosalie Needs?

To be honest, of all the characters where I raise my eyebrow at Meyer putting them with someone of the opposite gender, Rosalie’s one of the ones where they raise the highest.

Even Carlisle, when Rosalie drags in this man’s bleeding carcass, goes, “Oh, is this your cousin?” And has a “Him?!” moment when Rosalie explains this is her new husband.

I always would have expected, especially after her experiences, for Rosalie to be with a woman. That said, I do think her society’s prejudices and expectations would be a huge barrier for her and she’d have to do a lot of character growth before this would ever be possible. And I mean a lot of character growth, as in, Rosalie hasn’t reached this point even post Twilight saga.

Right, regardless of gender, I think Rosalie needs a partner who a) understands her b) does not value her looks c) accepts the good and the bad parts of her.

Like all of us, Rosalie is flawed. She’s a very impressive, down right intimidating, woman who has an iron clad will and gets what she wants. She has a deep love for her family and a great capacity for compassion. However, there are times when she’s the sixteen-year-old girl who has very much not escaped her society’s mindset. She fully advocates Bella Swan’s murder so the family won’t have to move, not realizing until Carlisle points it out that this is a heinous thing to do. Rosalie says vicious, racist, things to Jake likely never realizing exactly what it is she’s saying. She’s stubborn, proud, and as Edward put it a bit pig-headed.

Emmett tends to just go “Yeah, she’s a bitch, but she’s my bitch”. Which... great, thanks Emmett, that’s very helpful.

Bella Swan is Not That Person

Bella per the start of the series is a seventeen-year-old girl with cripplingly low self-esteem, huge parental issues, and a dangerous inclination towards depression.

Bella shows serious interest in women sexually (her relationship with Alice has some serious homoerotic undertones) but she’s also very intimidated by them. Rosalie, especially, makes Bella evaluate and feel worse about herself as she knows she will never be as beautiful as this teenage blonde goddess.

In other words, this Bella is not in a position to be the kind of person Rosalie needs. She’s too caught up in figuring out who she herself is, cares very much about Rosalie’s appearance and using it to compare against her own, and isn’t stable enough to be what Rosalie needs.

And by the end of canon... Well... Bella’s left the planet and will soon join Esme in being a hauntingly strange person entirely divorced from reality.

What if we’re in a slightly AU world?

Well, we’re banking on a lot of character development for Bella that I don’t believe can happen with Edward around. Either Bella shows interest in Edward or, well, he eats her. (No, seriously, this is canon, both Alice and Edward confirm as much.) 

And if the family packs up and leaves during New Moon and never comes back... Well, of all the people Bella might end up with after that, I think Rosalie might just be the least likely (not to mention Rosalie would not be down for hanging around Edward’s stupid human girlfriend).

What is Bella Looking For?

Bella’s looking for validation of her very self. She wants to be loved, more than that, she wants to be worth something.

Bella has such a low opinion of herself that, at this point in her life, she needs this feeling to come from elsewhere. She finds this in both Edward and Jacob.

And it doesn’t matter how scary they are (and both are, indeed, very scary towards her), it doesn’t matter what it is they value, just that they both seem to want her even though she’s a foolish, clumsy, pale, ugly, human, nobody, loser. 

That’s all Bella wants.

Edward’s a perfect storm in that he’s inhumanly perfect, beautiful beyond all comprehension, and completely obsessed with her. In Edward’s eyes, Bella is not just perfect, she’s fascinating.

And then, of course, she’s not and it utterly destroys her. 

Basically, Bella’s is a very sad life.

What Does Bella Need?

Bella needs time to grow up and find out who she is and how to value that.

Bella is your very typical teenage girl. She’s precocious, has a lot of issues growing up with her mom, but she has a lot of issues many teenage girls do have.

I think, before Bella can find a truly good partner, she needs to learn how to value herself.

This will be painful and take a lot of time. In New Moon, I think Jake actually sets her back as she uses him to find value in herself for her (essentially replacing Edward).

Only after Bella discovers who she is, reaffirms why she is important and worthy of love, can she find someone.

What does that person look like?

Well, it sure as fuck isn’t Vampire Patrick Bateman, otherwise known as Edward Cullen. Nor is it Jake Black who sexually assaults her, tells her to kiss him or he’ll kill himself, then tells her that her dying is pointless as it means he and Edward fought over nothing. 

It also isn’t Alice, who treats Bella a lot like she would a life-sized Barbie Doll rather than a friend and a human being.

I’m not sure who it is, to be honest.

Someone who recognizes who Bella is, certainly, the good and the bad. Someone who is able to... reconcile her with the world she truly lives in. Maybe, circumstances changing around a bit, it’s Carlisle Cullen? (Though that would certainly be a dumpster fire of divorce and despair with Edward and Esme) Maybe it’s Jasper (also a dumpster fire of divorce and despair with Edward and Alice)? 

I really have no idea here. Unlike Rosalie, I can’t even tell you what this person would need to be like.

What I do know is...

Rosalie is Not That Person

Just as Bella views Rosalie as a threat, as something to measure herself against and feel unworthy of in every way, Rosalie does the same.

Bella is a pretty human woman who captures Edward’s attention in a way she never can. Rosalie, at the time we start canon, for all her accomplishments and all she’s done is still insecure enough that she needs to be the prettiest woman in the room. 

Just as Bella’s not secure enough to be what Rosalie needs, Rosalie is not secure enough to be what Bella needs.

Rosalie also doesn’t see Bella for what she is. Rosalie sees, at first, a normal boring human teenager and dismisses her. She falls into the typical Cullen trap (for all but Carlisle) that they forget humans are people too. Later, Bella discounts Rosalie’s very earnest advice and Rosalie never forgives her for it. This is understandable, Rosalie lays her soul bare, but she forgets Bella’s a teenage girl and more can’t see what Bella herself is battling with.

Bella thinks being human is worthless because Bella thinks being Bella is worthless. Children and a human future mean nothing to her.

It would take a lot, A LOT, of character development for Rosalie to be someone that Bella needs in this situation and even then... Well, they’d have to deal with the horrifying shit show that is Edward. Because if Edward/Bella isn’t happening...

It’s lunch time.

TL;DR

I’d say pin your hopes on Alice/Bella, except that one’s not happening either for all that they do have their very homoerotic friendship.

[athenadione]

Prompt #88 with Jayrae, with Raven as the person who got hurt. Pretty please?

Muahaha *cracks knuckles* don’t mind if I do. Thanks for the prompt anon! It fed my angsty soul. (Also, sorry all for the hiatus in updates. Life is... hard).

‘Toxic Vengeance’

Pairing: JayRae Words: 2,296 Rated: M - Warnings for cuss words, graphic scenes of violence, and major angst. 

When the knife slashes her thigh, it instantly feels like it’s on fire. 

With a hiss, she draws back. 

It’s as if someone pressed a red-hot branding iron to her leg, then twisted it deeper into the marred flesh for good measure—but instead of dulling, the burning sensation is growing at an alarming rate, spiraling up her entire leg. 

Another hooded figure dashes from her right, and with a wave of power she forces them back with a glittery black claw. They hit the nearest brick building with a thud. Another jumps from above to replace them, and she throws up a shield with her other hand, halting the strike of their sword in mid-air. More are filling the alley, coming from the shadows. The burning in her leg is now more of an afterthought as her adrenaline spikes.

I need to end this now. “Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos.” 

Her power flares, and strikes through the figure, sending it back, along with the others in one large surge. There’s a series of grunts, followed by the clattering of weapons, before all she can hear is her own harsh breathing and blood from her heartbeat rushing in her ears. 

Amethyst orbs search the alley with skepticism, expecting another cohort to flood the street. Another minute of scouring, then she releases a breath when she’s certain it’s over. 

The attack had happened the second she turned the corner to investigate the stain of dark magic covering the adjacent building. She had been following whispered rumors of a rising national occult for weeks, eventually leading her to Crime Alley of all places.  

A groan escapes one of the men. Her attention shifts to see him lying slumped against the wall, hood fallen. His face is covered in old ancient markings, confirming both the reasons for her suspicion and dread. 

The marks of Scath. It appears her father’s followers are growing in power. Now, she needs to find out why—and who is behind it. They know who I am and purposefully drew me out here. This is more than I anticipated.

Is their leader someone I know? Maybe Blood? 

As the adrenaline begins to flow out of her body, she becomes keenly aware of the burning pain that’s replacing it. When the burning in her thigh flows down to her toes and up the side of her body, she realizes that her heart rate hasn’t slowed and neither has her breathing. 

Glancing down at her leg, she curses at the blood flowing freely from the wound. It’s deep, and is now starting to bubble. A bright red streak grows across her leg—a clear sign of inflammation. 

Poison. It’s not one that she recognizes—nor is it one that her demon-half can expel. 

Not good. 

Once the severity of her situation sets in, so does her panic, and she stumbles when another flare of pain sends her head spinning. She staggers over to the brick wall, laying one arm against her forehead. It’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 

It’s too late to call Nightwing or Batman; They wouldn’t be able to make it in time, and she doesn’t know if she has the capacity to transport herself to the cave. 

There’s only a handful of other people she trusts that knows more than just the basics of toxicology. 

Black specks dance along her vision and she tries to blink them back, shaking her head with considerable effort. 

There’s only one other option.

With the last of her failing strength, her eyes blind an iridescent white, and inky black tendrils snake around her, enveloping her into its depths. 

A moment later they release her and she stumbles across the threshold into a musty apartment. It doesn’t help that it’s completely dark, and the pound of her heart now seems louder than before.

Somewhere within the confines someone curses loud.

Her thoughts are becoming more clouded, and it’s getting harder to breathe. There’s a growing fervency to keep walking, and she does, intent to find him. 

A heat sizzles over her skin, heightening at her thigh. 

She whimpers, and her knees buckle—legs no longer able to support her weight. She’s so out of it she doesn’t even brace for the ground. 

He catches her before she hits.

“Jesus Christ, Raven. What happened to you?” His breath tickles her ear, and she shivers—though from his voice or her wound she’s not sure.

“Ambush. Poison.” She gasps through another wave of burning pain that shoots all the way up to her chest. 

Another curse and she’s being lowered against his door as fingers begin to ghost over her body. 

“Where? What kind?” He finds the wound and bright emerald eyes flare as they meet her. They swirl and morph into one before her eyes, and she blinks, swallowing back a sudden wave of nausea. 

“Alley…knife…I don’t know. I’ve never… ” she trails off, barely getting the words out as her shortness of breath increases.

“Fuck. Fuck,” an arm presses her shoulder back when she begins to slump over. “You cannot pass out on me princess. I need you to stay awake.” 

“Sorry,” she says, slurring her words. She’s growing exceedingly dizzy and her vision is blurring faster. She can’t get enough air to breathe. 

Something jars her. “Raven, stay with me.” 

Her heart feels like it’s going to tear and claw its way out of her chest, and for a moment she thinks it is. 

It beats faster, and faster, and faster.

“Rae, open your eyes. Look at me.” 

But then it stops. 

“Raven.” 

And all she knows is darkness. 

.

“Stand by. Preparing to shock.” 

There’s a loud, involuntary gasp, and a charging whine. 

“Shit. I swear to God you better not fucking die on me Rae.” 

.

“Evaluating heart rhythm… no shock advised. Continue CPR.”

The sound of pumping compressions fills the air. Green eyes glow as they glare at her prone figure.

“Breathe Goddammit!”

When he bites his lip, it’s hard enough to draw blood, but at least he managed to blink back the sudden, unbidden tears that had formed at the corners of his eyes.

He tries not to shake his hands when he hears her sternum crack underneath the heel of his palm. 

. 

“What are you doing on this com-line Hood?” The growl in his ear is laced with caution, and he can’t blame him. At least he answered. 

He gets to the point fast. “It’s Raven, she was poisoned. I don’t know what it is, but I think it’s systemic,” he pauses as the voice in his ear curses. “She’s coding Nightwing, get someone to my apartment now.” 

There’s another tense pause as Dick listens to Jason’s sharp exhales coinciding with his compressions. 

“Where?” 

“The one closest to the Alley, on 3rd.”

“Z will come teleport us. AED?” 

Jason stops and sits back on his haunches as the defilibrator analyzes again. The machine’s response only heightens his fear. 

“No shock. Continuing CPR, it’s been a few minutes,” he swallows thick as he checks her carotid pulse again. Nothing. “I’m losing her godammit, hurry the fuck up.” 

“On our way.”

He immediately cuts the transmission to focus on his task.

One, two, three, four, five...

.

He doesn’t know how much longer he’s been counting to thirty, just that he’s done it over and over. 

A cacophony of motion behind him almost interrupts his concentration. Someone places a gloved hand on his shoulder with urgency. 

“She needs to be transported to the Watchtower as soon as possible.” 

Lips press together firmly, then he nods. Allowing Zatanna to intervene, she envelopes the empath in her magic. They leave the AED pads attached. 

In seconds, they’re gone. Then the others turn to follow. 

“I’m going with her.” 

Nightwing stills, eyes flicking to Batman.

The resounding silence is near palpable. Nightwing takes a tentative step forward, breaking it. 

“Little wing… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” 

Fluorescent eyes shine with stone-cold defiance.

“You can’t stop me.”

Batman grunts—the closest thing he’ll ever get to an affirmation. It’s a sizable achievement, but he doesn’t feel victorious at all. 

She’s still in cardiac arrest, but if anyone can help her it’s Zatanna. 

And if there’s anyone that can overcome something like this it’d be her. 

Come on princess, come back to me. 

.

She codes three more times in the medbay. The crash team hovers as everyone else tirelessly searches for the right antidote. 

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

While he watches her Nightwing briefs him on her mission. He listens. It’s a distraction. Then white hot anger licks and gnashes up his chest to his throat with each word until he’s fisting his hands tight to hide the tremors. 

“... I thought it might be Blood but assassins and poison isn’t really his style. Do you think the League could have something to do with this?” Nightwing asks beside him.

His response is slow and level, revealing no hint of the turbulence of emotion that lies underneath, “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” 

Nightwing gives him a pensive stare, but says nothing. 

Jason narrows his eyes. 

Dead. They’re all fucking dead. 

.

They’re able to create one an hour later. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved to see someone breathe. 

He waits until she’s stable before slipping away. The teleporter still recognizes him as Robin, and he’s not sure what to think about that when he steps onto the platform. 

Batman gives him a look that he acknowledges as both a warning and a threat; But why should he care? He lost respect for that man a long time ago, and doesn’t give two shits what he thinks.

Unlike Bruce, he’s not afraid to avenge those he cares about most through whatever means necessary.

.

A piercing cry follows the crack of snapping bone. Another finger, broken. That leaves seven more, and I’ve got all fucking night. 

“I won’t ask again,” comes a growl, “I want answers.”

The man’s panting is interrupted by a swift kick to the gut. He bends over with a groan, before he glares up at the Red Hood through one eye. The other is swollen shut. 

“Why would I tell you? You’re just going to kill me anyway.” 

Hood hums, cocking his gun. “True, but it’ll hurt wayyy less if you do.” 

The man spits at his boots, a mixture of saliva and blood. “Good luck. I won’t talk.” 

A malicious grin grows from underneath Hood’s mask. 

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t need it.” 

.

The hallway is empty, save for him and Nightwing.

Really it’s just a perfect place for a one-on-one scolding—and his brother clearly decides to take advantage of it.

“You shouldn’t have done that. He will retaliate. This is Ra’s we’re talking about.” 

Jason’s jaw clenches tight. 

“Who knows how many supporters he’s managed to convince that Trigon can fix all of their worldly problems? He could call on all of them at any given moment.” 

He bares his teeth. 

“You’ve made a mess, Hood. It’s going to take months to clean up what you did.” 

He can’t stand it anymore. “Are you shitting me? I did you all a fucking favor,” he points a finger in Richard’s chest. “I found out more information in an hour investigating my way than you all did in weeks. If you’re not happy with my methods then do a better goddamned job covering your teammates.” He nearly chokes on that last word, attention drifting to the unmoving woman in the room across from them. 

Dick’s eyes follow and widen, then narrow just as fast, and he crosses his arms. 

“You love her.” 

He should have known Richard would figure it out. Why even try to fucking deny it anymore?

“Yeah,” he winces when his voice comes out raw. “I do.” 

Dick raises a brow, unapologetic. “She’s not going to like what you did either.”

Jason doesn’t have the decency to look ashamed. 

“I know.”

He wonders if she would have done the same.

.

“The antidote stopped any further damage, but she remains comatose. We’ve deduced that her body’s gone into a healing trance to mend herself internally. There’s nothing else we can do but wait and continue to monitor.” 

He stares at her porcelain face, no longer resisting the urge to tuck a stray lock of indigo behind her ear. Even at rest her brows are furrowed—like she knows what’s coming.

He waits until he can no longer hear Zatanna’s echoing steps to draw closer to her, breathing in her familiar scent of incense and old books. It’s a welcome change from the sterile smell of antiseptic. 

“You’re really taking your time huh, sunshine? How rude of you, leaving me with these assholes,” he fingers another strand of hair before releasing it with a sigh. 

“You scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that again.” He gives her a mock glare, half-expecting her to glower back. When she doesn’t he swallows, and takes another breath. 

“There’s one more thing I need to do… and I know you’re going to hate it, but I’m going to do it anyway.” He imagines pools of lavender, ablaze with fire, and a mouth already poised to argue with a vehemence that makes him smile in the present. 

“I won’t be able to come back here after I finish, and I’m sorry I won’t be there when you wake up,” he takes her hand and squeezes. “But I’m not sorry for what I’m about to do.” 

The incessant beeping of the machines she’s hooked up to is his only response. 

He lowers his face, and brushes his lips against the crown of her head. 

“I love you.” 

Walking away from her is hard, and he almost turns back.

But he doesn’t.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

Hi! Could you please write hcs on yakuza Johnny, Gyro, Diego, and Giorno’s ‘weak spots’? Like things their S/O can do that would make them melt? Hopefully I’m not bugging you, haha

Hello anon~! Of course I can~! hehe I hope you enjoy these hcs~! And sweet pea, you’re not bugging me at all~! I’m just ecstatic that so many people enjoy this AU~! ;; <3 

Now, since this one doesn’t have a specified reader type, I’ll go ahead and work with a Underling!Reader ~!

» » Admin Ko

ᴍᴇʟᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ꜰᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ; ɢʏʀᴏ ; ᴅɪᴇɢᴏ ; ɢɪᴏʀɴᴏ | [𝕁𝕁𝔹𝔸] Yakuza!AU | Head Canons

ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴊᴏᴇꜱᴛᴀʀ

First and foremost, some background with this relationship. Johnny never anticipated to feel the way he does for another person, more or less an underling of all people. Though he has his distrust for all their underlings, he keeps a majority of those opinions to himself-- rather he tries to.

However, his world is thrown for a loop when he meets her. Despite being an underling, her absolute drive and motivation to accomplish her duties was something he couldn’t really keep his eyes off of. Eventually, they end up together. Johnny becoming a smidgen more interested in the work all the underlings do to help keep the business afloat. 

He won’t lie when he’s playing favorites, he’ll be distinctively clear on that. Those who work hard and have strong loyalties to the Joestar family are the ones he has a... in a sense, kinder eye to. 

With time, he ends up going on more missions with her; to observe or to mock no one would ever really know, but least to say the pair grew quite close in that aspect; and no matter how much coaxing he tried, he couldn’t get her to budge from the position she choose for herself. 

Now then, our reader has had an ample amount of time to observe and understand the little ticks of Johnny, and even more so once they’re officially together. It’s easy to say that within Johnny’s faction, if he happens to have a large amount of pent up rage, she’s the first to be called to settle him down.

First it’s her soft voice luring him back into the world, and then it’s her soft touch against his palm, her fingers tracing simple yet meaningful words into his palm while she counts down. That’s one of the few things that she does to calm him down.

The other is during their more private moments, when it’s just the two of them. Being on his lap helps soothes his more humane thoughts of losing her, and the sweet and simple kisses are what truly melt him. 

He absolutely will without a doubt become putty in her hands after 2-3 solid sweet kisses. Though the key to this is eye contact and reassuring smiles. 

Though it is harder to bring him down to the ground once his emotions flip to his more...sporadic emotions, it’s the same nonetheless, except a much more blunt way of handling things. A strong yank down and a firm kiss is all it really takes to melt him back into her hands, and she’s learned to keep him in place until he melts. 

ɢʏʀᴏ ᴢᴇᴘᴘᴇʟɪ

For Gyro, he isn’t opposed to the relationship. Rather he welcomes it with open arms! Their meeting is purely coincidental. During one of Gyro’s mock experiments with a live subject, she had waltzed in with a couple of heavy injuries. 

Thankfully they weren’t fatal, but she was pretty certain the blood loss aided in getting her through the ordeal of having to stare at a screaming person whilst the mad doctor treated her wounds; and because of that he ticks her off in his mental box as someone of interest. 

As time passes and her visits frequent, with each visit getting much more bizarre every time, the closer the pair become. He questions her, probes her, and dissects every word she utters for a better understanding as to why she acts and responds the way she does around him, and to say the least he becomes absolutely starstruck when he realizes that she doesn’t mind his grotesque work, and is actually interested in his research aspect. 

Thus, they spend more time in his office reviewing over his old files as he understands the operating room isn’t for everyone, and that’s when he realizes that even the mad doctor himself has some weak and soft spots.

It starts off as a simple brush against his ear. The way her fingers delicately brush his hair out of his face and the affectionate eyes she held towards him.

The next is when he allows her to play and brush his hair. It’s almost comical how it comes about, but in the end he naturally becomes putty in her hands when he’s seated before her and her fingers begin to work their magic on his hair. 

But if there is one thing that will always be considered as his most prized and valuable possession, it would be a small spherical orb. It’s unique shape and functions amusing him as she gifted him the little trinket; and let it be known that whoever touches it besides him or her, they would never see the light of day or another human being ever again. 

ᴅɪᴇɢᴏ ʙʀᴀɴᴅᴏ

Cunning to a fault, Diego has no qualms intermingling with his underlings within his faction. Rather he relishes in the fact that he can blend in with their crowds with ease. 

That’s exactly how he met her. A sort of routine clean-up and check-up that he planned in his mind as he evaluated each of his underlings. Who would fail and who would pass? It was a game he enjoyed in his past time, and the looks of horror he sees when they realize it’s him is what brings him the most joy. The moment when their minds are in a frazzled and weak state.

Yet with her he didn’t exactly see that. Yes, he had managed to surprise her with his sudden appearance, but unlike most it took a second longer for him to pry into her mind; unlike the rest of the underlings he had managed to check off. Thus, she ended up being promoted to a higher ranking underling. 

Eventually, he finds himself frequently checking up on her. His reports stacking up as his observations become almost obsessive with her, and he’s absolutely shocked when she confronts him about it. It brings a coy smirk to his face knowing that he has such a valuable asset in his arsenal. 

With time, he comes to terms with his emotions and realizes that he has fallen in love with his subordinate, and her with his strange yet endearing self. 

The way Diego falls and melts is...in a sense peculiar. It’s rather comical in one sense, and very sad in another as his upbringing is shone more in the light. He adores affection, despite the front he puts up against it, he absolutely loves it. 

The moments that melt him the most is when he’s curled up next to her watching a documentary on dinosaurs. His arms wrapped loosely around her waist and his head laying on her shoulder will always bring him at ease, and her gentle hands against his back always help in bringing him down from a stressful day.

As for any sudden weaknesses or melting points, it would be the nape of his neck. A quick kiss or teasing blow of air will have him struggling and stumbling over himself. Make no mistake, if she does this in a public area, he won’t hesitate to ravage her right then and there. 

ɢɪᴏʀɴᴏ ɢɪᴏᴠᴀɴɴᴀ

Due to his upbringing, Giorno is a man of secrets and respect. Unlike the eldest Dio, he’s much more compassionate to his underlings like Jonathon and in a sense, Diego. He’s patient and loves to hear of what goes on in his subordinate’s minds. 

Be it for the greater good or the worst he finds the information valuable and handy in any sort of situation that may arise in the future. He meets her on a whim, it’s during her rookie training and hazing when he faces her, and is quite impressed to say the least when she holds her own rather well against the veteran underlings. 

He ends up frequently checking up on her, having her stop by to provide her reports in person as well as telling him of any troubles within the lower ranks of his faction. Though to his absolute surprise-- one of the few times he can be caught off guard-- she’s not someone who came for the Joestar family, but the new Passione gang. 

To say the least he’s smitten right then and there. After all, Passione was his own work, his own undoing and rebuilding. None of his siblings had really stepped foot into helping him and it proved to be one of his greater accomplishments. 

Eventually, he finds himself aching for her daily talks, and finds himself smiling every so often after she leaves. He’s told by Bruno, and he too can agree it’s an odd soft spot he’s grown. 

Though once together, the little ticks and habits Giorno has is exploited fully by her. She doesn’t hesitate to put him in his place and will help in any way she can to calm him down if he’s enraged, but god help her if he ever is enraged. 

The one thing that will absolutely melt Giorno’s facade is in the little moments in their shared room. If he’s laying on his stomach topless, she’ll paint beautiful pictures or words with watercolor. The intimate moment is something Giorno always looks forward to no matter the skill level of his significant other as the ministrations and her humming will always bring him into a new plane of existence. 

A surprising way to bring him down or to exploit his weakness, is by tugging his hair down/up to eye level roughly it brings him pain, but also an awakening to what he’s been doing and how he should actually be handling a situation. 

[amethystpath-writes]

If you have the time and motivation for this, would you mind writing about the hero finding out the villain has been dating his sister? And the sister has no idea but the villain is like taunting the hero with public displays of attention and gushy romance things. The hero can’t do anything bc he thinks the villain will hurt the sister if he says anything about it. You can decide whether the villain actually loves the sister or not :)

I have been excited about this idea since I read it. Thank you, nonny!

******

Pulling up to the curb, Sister pushed the door open. How long ago did she unbuckle? Hero wondered. He hated how- how…uncaring she was. It wasn’t so much about her hurting other people with her carelessness as it was about her hurting herself. Hero loved Sister, which meant he hated to see the path she was taking. She was going to get herself killed, maybe not by going on dates, but with all her other tendencies; things like getting into car crashes at sixteen, going to skateparks in the middle of the night, and the general rebellious thing she had going on. Hero wish she could understand that the reason he was so overbearing was because their parents weren’t at all. And he wasn’t a helicopter brother; he just wanted her to be safe.

Hero turned the key counter clockwise and pulled it out, before getting out of the car himself. Now was the moment he’d evaluate Sister’s boyfriend. Yes, evaluate. If the guy Sister was dating was some jerk or something right off the bat, Hero would make him leave. He’d- uh- puff his chest and…and do the intimidating stuff.

Truth be told, Hero didn’t know how to come off as intimidating without using his abilities, but no one knew about those, and no on could know. He had watched too many movies of people with weird powers being taken and experimented on or tortured or other terrible things. It’s why he and Villain took things to rooftops, or otherwise amidst destruction where they couldn’t be seen. But that wasn’t the point! The point was that Hero was about to meet the person his sister was spending so much time with.

Sister was running up to one of the tables of the small ice cream bar, and when she got there- or to the person there- she wrapped their arms around a man, and as he looked up, Hero felt his whole body freeze. He felt his hands shake as the man- Villain- dragged a hand up and down Sister’s back, taunting Hero because he knew the shock it would cause.

It was Villain. Villain was coddling Hero’s sister right in front of him, and he even made eye contact while doing it.

After a few more frozen moments, Hero took one- two- steps forward. Villain watched, not ceasing his teases. At one point he even full on glared at Hero, stopping him in his tracks. Hero didn’t know what to do but to remain where he was and watch. He nearly spoke, opening his mouth to break it up, to get Sister away, but one flick of Villain’s hand on her neck stopped him.

The two kissed, not too awfully long- certainly not a make out session, but it was too long to be considered a peck.

“Oh.” Villain’s gaze caught Hero’s again, and he smiled. “This must be the brother you have mentioned a time or twice.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” She gave a small laugh, adjusting her shirt, as it’d become somewhat crooked, and turning to face her brother while still standing beside her boyfriend- who now slid a hand behind her before settling it on her waist opposite of his own side.

Hero swallowed. Should he talk? Initiate the conversation? But with that hand on his sister’s hip…it was a threat. Villain could take off with her any second.

Or maybe he just loved Sister.

No. No, of course he doesn’t love Sister. That was a ridiculous idea and Hero couldn’t believe he even thought of it for a second.

“You never said he was mute.”

Still not knowing whether to speak or not, Hero only took very slow and deliberate steps forward toward the- the couple, if you could even call them that. “When do I need to pick you up?”

Sister’s face scrunched up. “What? You suddenly don’t want the cone and taco you made me promise to buy you before you left?” She laughed and crossed her left arm over her chest so that she could place her hand on Villain’s shoulder. “You don’t approve.”

She thought it was because Villain was wearing raggy clothing, a shirt with purposefully torn holes and bleached pants. No. That wasn’t the problem at all. Someone who looked as Villain did now was exactly Sister’s type, and they weren’t all shitty people. It just so happened to be that this one was. And this wasn’t the clothing Villain typically wore either. It was a lie, a façade, to lure Sister in. It worked.

Villain’s hand began to draw circles on Sister’s side. Hero had to take a deep breath. Another warning, or threat, or whatever you wanted to call it, to Hero to say the right thing, to play a role in the act. “I didn’t say that,” he settled for. Easy, simple, neutral.

“Your face is saying that,” Villain said. Hero could have sworn Villain held up a one with his fingers for a moment. He felt his heart thundering in his chest.

“Why don’t we all order our food and sit down, hm? Clear the air up a bit.”

It wasn’t a request or a suggestion. It was a demand.

Hero didn’t realize his jaw was clenched until he opened it to speak as he walked toward them at a proper talking distance. He kept his hands in his pockets to hide the fact they were fisted. “Right. Not a problem at all. Sister, I’ll order for you. What do you want?”

She looked up at him, then Villain.

“I told her I’d pay, but if you’d like to go order for yourself with me, then that’s fine. Maybe we can get to know one another a little more. Do you want to pick a table for us, mi amore?”

Wordless, Sister left to do as Villain suggested. Now it was just Hero and Villain standing out in the wide open.

Villain was the first to begin walking to the order line. Hero followed two steps behind, too nervous to be any closer. He didn’t think Villain was stupid enough to act out here, but it was hard telling- especially if he was apparently willing to date Sister. Hero still couldn’t believe it. The denial would have been stronger if Villain hadn’t been actively cluing threats.

“I have really rendered you speechless, haven’t I?”

Hero said nothing.

“Go on, say something. Do you think I plan to rip out your tongue?”

No. I think you might snap my sister’s neck. “What are you doing?”

Villain gave a small chuckle. “Did you ever consider that maybe I just like your sister and that’s why I asked her on a date today?”

“I considered it, then found it unlikely.”

He hummed. “Well, you’re right. I don’t despise her, but I would have no interest in her if it didn’t dig under your skin. It’s funny, the way you find me to be so threatening. A touch on her wrist makes you think I’ll break it. A touch on her neck, and you think I’ll dig my teeth into her throat as if I were a vampire and she my prey. What else, hero?”

“You would do all of those things.” Straight to the point.

“Is that what you think?” Villain smiled, stepping forward in the line now that some kid finally decided to order three scoops of various ice creams with sprinkles and syrup on top- no cherry though. “Perhaps. That only means you should continue to tread carefully. I’d hate for you to twist an ankle.”

Hero was becoming more frustrated than worried now. What was the point in all of this? The only thing Hero could come up with was that this was Villain’s form of a punishment…for looking for him, Hero assumed. But why was that such a big deal? Maybe Villain was up to something and needed Hero off his back; dating his sister and threatening her nearly every moment was the solution, and it was somewhat effective.

Silence followed through the rest of the line until they made it to ordering. “You used to buy her the toppings options,” Villain said to Hero before looking back to the person taking his order. “Add some rainbow sprinkles on top.” Having finished the order, Villain handed over a twenty- Did he just hold up a two with his other hand? - and told the worker to keep the change- all five dollars and thirty-six cents. Turning back to Hero, he began again. “She misses those times- when you actually tried to spend time with her.”

Gritting his teeth, Hero said nothing. Villain knew the reason he didn’t talk to his sister- or any of his family. Hero was busy looking for wherever Villain was hiding out when he wasn’t going into cities and attacking people from above.

They waited for their orders after Hero paid for his, and as they did this, Villain spoke up again, “You’re thinking about what to do in this scenario.”

“I’m not thinking about much of anything actually.”

Villain hummed. “I would be head over my heels in thought. I must have really boggled you up there.”

Hero said nothing. There was nothing to do.

**

Bringing the food and ice cream back, the date went as any would- with the exception that Hero was now a part of the date. It was originally meant to only be Sister and whoever her boyfriend was- which as Hero knew now, was Villain.

They all chatted like good friends, and Hero was warned subtly a few times to watch his displeased facial expressions. The unhappy expression usually only happened when Villain would hold Sister’s hand and all Hero could think was, He’s going to crush her bones. He’s capable of it. One squeeze is all it’d take. They also frequented when Villain put an arm around his sister’s shoulders, draping a hand almost carelessly. Again, Hero’s thoughts would get the best of him. Fingernails in her arm, river of blood. What did he think Villain was exactly, Hero wasn’t even sure, but evil was an easy way to define him.

Sure, they both had abilities, but only Villain was sadistic enough to ever use them against people powerless and defenseless against it. He never did it where he could be seen, but- well, Villain was unpredictable, wasn’t he? Hero certainly never expected the guy to start dating his sister. It was possible he really would hurt Sister in public.

“Hero, what did you say you do for work again?”

He swallowed. Hero could out Villain right now, just say it in the next moment and no one would expect it. And it was outlandish enough that it would be surprisingly unquestionable. Some things you just couldn’t lie about. It wouldn’t even need thought, though, because Villain would deliberately prove it…by concussing Sister with a tiny flick.

“I work with the Containment Justice Department in town.” This was what Hero told everyone, mostly his family. It wasn’t so difficult to lie about anymore, except that now Villain was smiling with the brightest beam of amusement.

Containment Justice Department, Hero could hear Villain mocking him.

“Interesting. I thought you had to graduate from some police academy or something to do that.”

“I excelled.”

“Right. Sister said you dropped out of high school. Suppose that’s why I never saw you in the halls.”

Villain tucked a piece of hair behind Sister’s ears then brought his lips to her cheek. She smiled and pushed him away playfully. Hero held his breath.

What could Villain possibly do with a kiss? What deadly thing could come out of that? His creativity was shrunken at this point, exhausted. This had been such a long day, and the sun was setting. Hero was stressed beyond relief, he felt.

“How long have you two been together?”

Sister opened her mouth to answer, but Villain beat her to the punch, his lips still on her skin. “Next week will be a year.” He put a hand on her chin after drawing his own head back just barely to make room for movement, then dragged her head to him until their lips were almost touching. “Isn’t that right, mi amore?”

A blush rose in her cheeks before he kissed her, and this time it was longer than when she and Hero first arrived.

“Right, well it was nice to meet you. Sister, we should go before it gets dark.”

“Um, I was actually…” Sister began, but trailed off.

“I’ll bring her home later tomorrow.”

“We should go home now. It’s dangerous out at night.” Hero added, “Not just for her sake, but yours.” Hero only included this for two reasons: (1) Villain would have silently scolded Hero, threatened him- or his sister, he supposed- for not wishing good will for Villain, and (2) because Hero needed his sister to agree with him, to want Villain to go home so that he was safe since they were a couple and couples cared for one another.

“My house is well lit. I think we’ll be okay. But I do hate to drive at night. Astigmatisms,” Villain said, “nasty things. Are you ready to go, mi amore?”

She nodded, and Hero didn’t know what to do as she began to stand. Sister couldn’t go to Villain’s home; she might never come back. What if he killed her? Hero didn’t know where he lived, and that meant there would be no rescue. He had to stop this now. But he couldn’t. Because if he tried to, Villain would act out now, and he’d probably find a way to make it Hero’s fault.

“You win, okay?” Hero rushed out as the distance between he and Sister and Villain grew. “You’ve- uh- been there for my sister when I couldn’t be. You are a…” Hero grimaced. “You’re a good guy.”

Villain licked his lip before dragging it in with his teeth, then looking at Sister with only his eyes- no tilting of the head, no action Sister could see.

“Thank you for taking care of her. Drive safely.”

And that was all Hero could do to ensure any amount of safety; admit defeat. Admit the Villain one, and maybe he would ease up, maybe he would break the tie he made with Sister, let her be free, even though she didn’t know she was caught to begin with.

“Will do.” Villain tossed a hand in the air- a careless goodbye.

Hero felt his heart drop. What did the carelessness mean- if anything at all? There was nothing he could do about it anyways. Villain won. Hero could only hope- maybe even pray- that Villain would show mercy. Until then, Hero hopped in his car, and before he took off, he turned the ringer on on his phone. It was the least he could do. If Sister was in trouble, maybe she would text or call him, and he would be there in a heartbeat after she told Hero Villain’s add- That’s it!

Hero opened the messaging on his phone and clicked on Sister’s name. ‘What’s his address? Just in case something happens.’ he typed and hit send.

Not a moment later, Hero received a text back from Sister, reading, ‘Seriously? How dunce are you?’

Another message as Hero began typing. ‘That’s three.’ it read. Hero squinted his eyes, looking up at the brake lights in front of him. A hand was stuck out of the driver side window. Three fingers were held out. And then? The car in front of Hero surged forward, wheels squealing with the highest screech he ever heard.

“No!” Hero fumbled with his keys, trying hard- maybe too hard- to put in it the ignition slot. “No, no, no.” He glanced up and down, watching as Villain’s car sped off until it turned out of sight. “Dammit!” Finally, the key slid in, and Hero started the car, speeding off just the same as Villain did just two minutes ago, but by the time he turned on the street Villain had, the car was gone, his sister with it.

******

Requested Part 2 here

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.9}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.4k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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At the first glance, Robin believed that she had been teleported into a forest. A dark one that is, with roots or vines creeping across the floor like serpents, and mountains of trees towering around her to unfathomable heights. But when she looked down at the ground beneath her feet, trying to suppress the tears that so desperately wanted to fall from her eyes, she realized that she was standing on the same stone as in the castle. And she realized that she still stood in a circle of very much the same nature as the one she had left through. A sudden and desperate hope grabbed her and she pushed the fear aside as she repeated the very sentence that had brought her here. The same bright and sizzling flash around her, the same odd feeling, and she was back in the study half a second later.

Snape still stood in the same spot where she had left him, her eyes found his in an instant, and while Robin did her best not to break down crying, his expression turned from something she could only describe as horrified desperation to a mixture of relief, concern and irritation. In a blink, he was in the circle with her, not even a step away.

"What were you thinking?!" He barked, gripping her shoulders in both hands while he stared down at her with an expression so intense it made her heart skip a beat. "Do you enjoy ignoring everything I say to put yourself at risk? Again? Or do you just want to torture me?"

Robin opened her mouth to reply, to explain, but all that came past her lips was a strangled sob. She didn't want him to be mad at her, not now, not when she hadn't even meant to do anything wrong! Not when she needed him to feel safe. Not when she had just found a way back from a place like that, dark and scary and alone… Her chest hurt from the still relentless racing of her heart, and she felt too hot, out of breath. Screw this, screw everything! Whatever this bloody circle had done with her, it had scared the living hell out of her even more than anything else. The tears of shock spilled over her cheeks at last, hot and relentless and angry and she couldn't stop them even as she tried.

His features softened immediately in return, every trace of anger and annoyance blown into the wind until only the concern lingered. And a subtle touch of fear. "Don't…" He started, more a plea than an order, and Robin couldn't help averting her eyes from his at last. The look on his face just broke her heart, unguarded and honest, and that made her want to do things she knew she shouldn't even consider. But his hands stayed on her shoulders and upper arms, and she allowed herself to enjoy the comfort of that lingering touch at least.

"I didn't mean for that to happen. I didn't mean to worry you. I promise." She breathed after a moment, in a voice still laced with tears as much as her eyes were. She still couldn't look at him. "I don't know what happened, I just said that bloody sentence and then it was bright and dark and I was alone… Please don't be upset with me."

Robin could feel him hesitating for a moment, a stillness going through his being, before his grip on her loosened up, but didn’t disappear even as he answered at last. "You vanished into a darting flame right in front of my eyes and there was absolutely nothing I could do but watch." A pause. "I am not upset with you, Robin. I was terrified. And that isn't an emotion I take well to."

Her eyes were back on his in an instant, and it was him now who struggled to hold her gaze. But he did, and it meant more to her than she could put into words. "I understand." She said quietly, and it really did make a ridiculous amount of sense now. Of course he wouldn't show fear as fear itself… not until now at least. Robin understood indeed.

He let out a barely audible breath, as if those two words were so very surprising to him, but perhaps they were. Robin's heart sighed again, and now she was the one who wanted to comfort him instead of the other way round.

"I was terrified too." She said, allowing herself to lean into his touch ever so slightly. "As I said, it wasn't something I wanted to happen either. And it was… scary over there."

"I am sorry for yelling at you." He replied much to her surprise. Apologies were still a rare occurrence, especially ones not asked for. "I didn't mean to make matters even worse for you, and I certainly did not mean to make you cry."

"You didn't, not really." She offered him a reassuring half smile upon his conflicted expression. "It was just the surprise, the shock… the fear that resulted of being thrown into a pit of darkness that overwhelmed me for a moment. Not you. Your presence was comforting, actually. It usually is…"

He stilled once more, and Robin regretted saying those last two sentences immediately. Of course he wouldn't want her to be comforted by his mere presence, gods, he probably thought she was either lying or making some kind of twisted joke. What had she been thinking?! She hadn't been thinking at all. Idiot…

"Do you actually mean that?" He asked after a moment, having retreated to the safety of his perfect neutrality, and finally dropped his hands from her shoulders. At least no scowl, no disgust, no scorn…

"Of course I mean it. You know that I don't lie." She replied openly, calmly. But then she had to smile ever so slightly at a thought that would hopefully take the edge out of the situation. "And since you seem to believe that I don't listen to what you say anyway, I wouldn't even know that you yelled at me in the first place now, would I?"

That finally made the corner of his lips quirk upwards. "How would you know I made that assumption if you did not listen indeed?"

"Damnit…" Robin's smile widened a little at first, but more and more once his neutrality ebbed off again to be replaced by the ease that was solely reserved for her. "I was going to let you win this once."

"As if I would need your help for that." He replied with a huff and a not-smirk, and Robin could tell that he was glad for the change of topic. Still, for such a major slip up on her part, the situation had gone surprisingly smoothly.

"What would you have done without my dictionary, huh?" She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Or without me ever finding the passageway to this room? We would still be searching for the tracing dust, and…"

She stopped in her sentence upon her own words, looked down at the stones beneath her feet, and finally back up at Snape again. "The dust is gone. I must've taken it with me to the… other side. It must've moved away before I returned though, so…"

"Whatever attracted it is still on that other side, as is the dust." He finished her sentence, with a curious frown that made Robin smile again. Somehow it was beyond endearing to her, but she was rather sure that nobody else would even be able to differentiate it from all those other frowns of his.

"Precisely." She finally said. "And as much as I hate the prospect of that right now… perhaps we should go through the circle once more. It's not dangerous as far as I could tell. It works a little bit like floo powder but without the fireplace and without the powder. It's only a two way portal, and I guess that's why the sentence to activate it is a palindrome. Forwards and backwards the same. Like… a magical door to another room."

"Is that a theory?"

"Yes. You wanted me to share my thoughts, so there you go."

"And you believe it is safe?"

"The circle, yes. The place it leads to… I'm not so sure. It reminded me of the forbidden forest back at school, but I was quite panicked for the few seconds I was there, so that evaluation should be seen with that in consideration. Objectively, I can tell you that there was no immediate threat or danger, no movement and no sound."

"Would you like to return there for the sake of the tracing spell?" He raised an eyebrow at her in question. "You are aware that you do not have to, yes?"

"I know… But I want to see this through to the end now. I'm not giving up on the last string of my theory just yet." She sighed, more so to herself than to him. "I want to go. But I don't want to go alone."

"You aren't alone." He said, and stepped closer so that they were both standing in the middle of the circle. After dark, ready to be consumed by fire indeed. "I am right here with you."

Robin nodded, unable to speak now without saying something even more impossible, and upon her silence he spoke the sentence to take them away instead.

The flash, the odd feeling, and then the darkness, just like before. This time however, Robin had her wand in her hand already and the lumos on her lips from the very moment they faced the darkness. Much better.

"Finding the dust in this place should take a while." He mused as he started off into a random direction. Robin however stayed standing in the circle for another moment, digging through her backpack and making him turn back to her with a frown.

"Who knows how far we have to go. Without hallways or a clear ground or floor structure, we might never find the circle again if we wander off like that." She explained, and finally pulled out a rock shaped like a pyramid along with a heavily wrinkled piece of parchment. The rock she set down inside the circle, and shoved the parchment into her pocket. "Now we may go."

"What, pray tell, did you do back there?" He asked in sincere curiosity as they made their way through the darkness side by side. This place seemed to be a garden of sorts, or at least it had been once upon a time. By now, it was a wilderness inside a stone hall of ineffable size.

"Oh, nothing special. A mapping charm. It draws a temporary map of the area we walk through now, so that we can find the way back later. Makes it really hard to get lost." She shrugged, staying close by his side nonetheless. Honestly, she was done exploring on her own for today, and definitely done walking ahead so very bravely and even more stupidly.

"Where on earth did you find a map like that?"

"Nowhere. I created it myself out of a piece of parchment that had crumbled up in my backpack, and a random paperweight I bought in a Hogsmeade. Made it for Cas, when she kept getting lost when taking walks in her first year, and she just gave it back to me some time ago." Robin explained while keeping her eyes open for the blue dust, but she also didn't miss the small smile that fell onto Snape’s lips when he thought she wasn't looking. Perhaps he actually didn't mind her constant over-preparedness, or her repeated improvisation and invention of random pieces of magic. Perhaps he might appreciate that about her even. Robin surely hoped he did.

For quite a while they moved through the various plants, weeds and species that couldn't even be identified anymore, and the further they walked the more obscure their surroundings got. But finally, finally they found the tracing dust that had spread among a group of bizarre flowers. Bright ultramarine, slightly glowing, and impossible to miss. The flowers in return were equally impossible to overlook themselves: Scarlet petals, full and lush and pointed, on long white stems with blue thorns. Amazing, but definitely not wraiths' moss.

"Any inkling what kind of flower this is?" Robin asked with a small doubtful frown directed at Snape, who however looked equally puzzled as she did herself.

"I am afraid I have no idea."

"Somehow… I feel like I've seen it before. It looks so unique with its contrasts and especially the light blue thorns…" She closed her eyes for a second, scanning her mental index. "Blue thorns… it rings a bell."

"How many books about plants have you studied, exactly?"

"I looked through a couple hundred." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her rose. "Read in their entirety though… A few more than the ones you have lent to me over the years."

Again, her own words rang a bell in her mind, and she knelt down on the cold stone to dig through her backpack once more. Seconds later, she pulled out three books of considerable size and an even more considerable page count.

"Aren't those mine?" He quirked an eyebrow at her, undoubtedly humoured, but also inquiring enough to make her look back down at her bag in a rush of embarrassment.

"Uh, yes. They are." Robin replied, forcing the heat away from her cheeks before it would turn her into the same colour as the flowers in front of them. "I meant to return them to you after summer, but I wasn't done with the handbook yet, so I held onto them for a while longer… Anyway, the point is that I am absolutely certain that I've seen the flower before, and I assume it was in one of those books. So we better start looking."

It took them less than five minutes to find the correct page. The specimen in question was a blue thorned Siazella, a subtropical flower that wasn't even supposed to be growing here. But it was, undoubtedly, and while neither of them had an idea why that was the case, they soon discovered why the tracing spell had sought it out at least. And upon that, everything else became clearer as well.

The tracing spell, or rather the specific dust Robin had come up with for the occasion, was supposed to trace an attribute that in Europe only appeared in wraiths' moss. The Siazella however, as an alien to the natural landscape of Scotland, just so happened to share this very attribute. Even worse, it ran way stronger in the Siazella than it did in the moss, which precisely is why the dust had found its way into this unlikely place, and right to the Siazella. That explained why there had not been a speckle of blue in the entire castle but in this very place.

"If Siazella grows here in this place, it should also be able to grow in the greenhouse." Robin finally reasoned, glancing up at Snape. "So… how likely is it that we would ever come across it again? I mean… It originally grows in the Vietnamese highlands, not the Scottish ones. We weren't looking for it, technically, but I would like to take a few samples nonetheless. It would be a reasonable thing to do."

"I agree. It could be interesting for us to experiment with, and Pomona would certainly appreciate a new kind of flower to study as well."

"Exactly!" Robin grinned at him, delighted by how little she actually had to say for him to understand her so well. "I am thinking along the lines of three entire flowers, is that agreeable?"

He nodded, and upon that Robin got to work, carefully digging out one plant after the other, roots and all, and she actually managed not to sting herself on the thorns. Then she shrunk them down to a workable size and packed them up in a random jar in her backpack. If anyone would've asked her just how many jars, vials and boxes she carried around on a constant basis, she honestly wouldn't have been able to tell. But that's what she had the shelves for, after all.

After this unplanned but still quite impressive success, they decided to return to the circle. Robin's map turned out to be most helpful indeed, in this dark maze of madness, for they definitely would've lost their way without it. At least that's what Robin reasoned when Snape told her he would've chosen to walk into the opposite direction of where they needed to go.

Once back in the still candlelit study, they returned everything to the state they had found it in, much to Robin's disappointment. She would've loved to take some of the books, but she also understood that it would be better not to. Foreign magic was better not to be messed with, and ghosts of the past were sometimes better left alone. Perhaps she would come back here at some point to study them though.

"So I'm wondering… if the Siazella simply has a stronger pull on the tracing dust than the wraiths' moss does, we could be surrounded by the bloody stuff and wouldn't even know." Robin mused when they walked back through the narrow passageway. "I'm just saying… The Siazella got in the way of proving my theory, it didn't actually falsify it."

"Yes, that thought had crossed my mind as well." He mused in return, and Robin's skin tingled upon the realization of just how close behind her he was. If she had stopped walking, he most certainly would've ran straight into her. Maybe they both weren't all too fond of the idea of letting each other out of sight another time tonight after all. "What do you suggest we do about it?"

"If we could somehow narrow down the attribute searched for by the dust, we could try the tracing spell again. But I have no idea how to do that, I would need to study the Siazella's specifics more thoroughly." Robin replied with a sigh, then stepped through the magical wall and back into the actual castle. The eerie something returned to her conscious mind in an instant, but she knew better now than to be afraid. It was a protective spell most likely, placed upon the secret study to keep people as far away as possible. Quite clever, really.

"Since you already know more about these plants than I do, it is needless to say that I am of no help in that regard either. But how would you like to limit the existing tracing spell to the dungeons instead?"

"You know how to do that?!" Robin's head whipped to the side to look at him with big eyes, a spark of hope blossoming in her chest.

"Oh, don't pretend to be so surprised…" He replied with a pointed expression that made Robin smile. "I know magic you cannot even dream of."

"I'm all ears."

"You do a surprising amount of talking for that."

"...said the person who wanted me to share more of my thought process." She quirked an eyebrow at him in amusement, while they made their way back down to the stories below. "You really are one big contradiction, you know that?"

"Only to you, it appears."

"Curious, isn't it?" Robin smiled, but she didn't get any answer and honestly didn't expect to either. It was obvious enough that they both were aware of the fact that she knew him quite a bit better than most other people ever would, and that thought made her smile even more.

They reached the dungeons not long after, without even considering splitting up this time around. Snape placed his spell on the entire level, upon which Robin dug out the sample of the tracing dust she'd actually meant to take back to the lab, as well as her handbook for the spell. She repeated the process they had gone through this morning, upon which the dust assembled into the infamous blue line at first, then however turned into a smoky cloud immediately afterwards and finally fanned out into all directions as it had upon their arrival at the castle. This time however, the effects were visible immediately. All around them, in all the rooms, cells and even the hallway, the blue speckles settled down near the ground, on top of invisible objects, giving them both shape and texture. Robin's anticipating and hopeful expression turned into one of excitement and glee, and she grinned at Snape for a second before moving straight ahead to inspect their new find.

"It appears that your theory was just proven correct indeed… I cannot say that I'm at all surprised." He said while Robin charmed the first patch of moss to become both visible and harvestable. "It is a truly admirable achievement, and it is all yours. Congratulations."

"Thank you." She smiled up at him over her shoulder for a moment, then went back to packing up as much of the moss as she could. "I can't quite believe that it actually worked after all. It has been such a hassle… but it definitely was worth it."

"Some things are worth every effort." He mused in return, almost quietly, while Robin finished packing up the second patch of moss. "And some turn every effort into a pleasure."

Robin smiled down at the box in her hands, which was now filled to the brim with wraiths' moss. It would last them years, most likely, and buying the same amount would've cost more than either of them could ever afford. Her heart danced in happiness, and her mind in giddy excitement. She had done her job well, had proven that it was possible to find even the rarest plants with planning, research and unconventional thinking. For once, Robin was actually proud of herself.

… … …

Fifteen minutes later, they finally left the heavy masses of stone behind, making their way out of the castle, through the ancient gates, and out into the night. It had stopped raining, but the sky was still clouded and the air still cold and moist in a way that inevitably crept up your sleeves and beneath every layer of clothing. Robin shivered, but she reasoned that they would be back at Hogwarts soon enough… no need to start making a fuss now.

After looking so bleak for a moment back then, their mission had turned out to be a huge success after all. Her theory was proven, her methods working (with some necessary but minor revisions for the tracing dust still due) and they had acquired not one but two rare plants they could experiment with in the future. On the other hand, they had hiked for hours on end, gotten caught in the rain and been drenched entirely, and finally had encountered more strangeness than they usually did in a year. It had been a perfect day, to Robin at least, and she couldn't stop smiling as they finally came to a stand outside the gates. Time to apparate back to Hogwarts.

Robin focused on releasing the tension from her body like she had done this morning, trying to relax her muscles, but when his hand brushed against hers so very gently before slowly taking a hold of it, all efforts were drowned out by the surge of electricity rippling through her once again. His touch was surprisingly reluctant, more so the closer they got, a contradiction within his person yet again. But Robin wouldn't even think about complaining. His contradictions were part of him, a confusing and beautiful part she loved dearly.

"Ready?" He asked if on cue, tightening his hold on her hand which led Robin to do the same.

"Definitely." She smiled, then relaxed again and held her breath, a broken second before she was pushed and pulled through the dimensions of open space once more.

Their arrival in front of the Hogwarts grounds became most evident through the immediate rustling of trees, and even before Robin opened her eyes, she had to smile at the familiar smells and sounds that undoubtedly spoke home. She blinked, a second of dizziness passing, and wondered if apparating became easier the more often one did it, or if she was simply getting better at it. It didn't matter, not today. A few seconds passed, and she was still holding Snape's hand, but more importantly he was still holding hers as well.

"Home at last, huh?" Robin smiled up at him, expression soft, warmth in her gaze. "It's been quite a day. One I certainly will never forget."

"Neither will I." He replied in an equal serenity, still keeping his chilled fingers wrapped around hers to the point where Robin wished that he was doing it intentionally. But she couldn't let herself believe that.

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze then, a soft reminder of what he was doing, accompanied by the same positive smile that hopefully covered up the hint of sadness she felt upon doing the right thing. He let go of her in an instant, just like she had thought, but the irritation or at least the neutral facade she had expected never came.

Instead he returned her gaze calmly, and finally quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Do you plan on standing outside the gates all night or are we finally heading towards the castle?"

Robin frowned at him, but the humor returned to her smile at the same time. "Well, you could get going first yourself if you're so desperate to."

"You've been dragging me through the country all day; you might as well lead me back up the final path now."

"You're right." She smiled, then took a leap of faith by nudging him in the side with her shoulder as she started walking. "C'mon then."

In companionable silence they made their way through the night and up the paths towards the castle, and climbing the hill admittedly took a lot more effort than it usually did, with a full day of hiking already sitting deep in their bones. At least Robin guessed that he must feel the same, going by the way he moved no faster next to her. It thus came as a relief when they crossed the courtyard, walking on even stone towards a place that was full of life at last.

As soon as they stepped into the entrance hall, Robin's eyes fell onto two dark spots sitting on the grand staircase, which jumped into action immediately upon her entry. Her eyes widened for a second, then she couldn't help but smirk a little.

"Robin!!!" Cas squealed in excitement while she skipped ahead towards them, with Jorien following more moderately a few steps behind. "You're back! Took you long enough…"

"Hey guys! What are you doing here?" Robin quirked an eyebrow at them in amusement. "Shouldn't you be at least in the common room at this time?"

"We waited for you." Jorien answered with a shrug, giving Robin a small smile before she looked up at Snape with an insecure frown. "I… I asked Professor McGonagall when you would be back, and she asked Professor Dumbledore, but neither of them knew for sure what exactly you were doing in the first place, so we kinda just… stuck around here after dinner."

"Your intentions do not justify a breach of curfew." Snape returned seriously, but with a calm tone the two younger girls obviously weren't used to. They looked irritated for just a moment, but it sufficed already and his expression immediately turned back into the usual scowl he put on for almost every social interaction. That seemed to be more familiar to them already. "Has nobody seen to it that you return to your dormitories?"

"It's still before nine in the evening!" Cas protested immediately, but her mouth snapped shut when she realized just who she was talking to.

Snape frowned in return, sincerely irritated by the comment as if the concept of time was entirely foreign to him. Robin's smirk widened, for she too had lost every feeling for time long ago. When he turned to look at her in the same confusion, raising an eyebrow at her, she could help but sigh and chuckle at the same time.

"I know. Me too." She said to him, and –paying attention to him like she always did– she didn't miss the corner of his lips twitching upwards for a broken second.

"You too what? Nobody's even said anything." Cas wondered then, disrupting the wordless conversation between Robin and Snape.

"You just didn't hear it, Cas." Robin smiled at the girl then, turning her attention back to her roommates entirely. "We both are merely surprised by how early it still is."

"You are?" Jorien frowned at her, then up at Snape a little more carefully, and finally back at Robin.

"Obviously." Snape was quicker to reply, and Jorien's cheeks tinted pink in return.

"Really? Both of you?" Cas asked in obvious ignorance of her friend’s flustered expression as well as Snape’s scowl, as she let her gaze flicker from Robin to Snape and back, unsure of who she was addressing with the question in the first place.

"Would you prefer to have it spelled out even more easily, Miss Miller, or is the time of night clouding your judgement of who to pester with redundant questions and who clearly not?"

"Either way..." Robin intervened in an attempt to save both Snape and the girls from each other right now, giving him a pointed look first before turning to address her roommates once more. "You guys should return to the common room nonetheless, it is rather late after all." Only then she checked her watch at last to make sure if her statement even made sense. Quarter to nine… good guess on her part, as it seemed.

"What about you?" Jorien picked up on the attempted rescue immediately, and Robin felt a little proud of her for taking an opportunity when provided with one.

"We still have work to do, so you'll have to go on ahead without me for now. I'd appreciate it if you could take my jacket back to our room though… Just toss it onto my trunk, yes?" Robin raised her eyebrows at the two of them, looking from one to the other while she took off her jacket indeed.

"Sure, will do. We already kinda guessed that we won't get to see you again before we go to bed. So we at least waited here for your return, to make sure you got back to the castle in one piece." Cas sighed heavily, with a crooked smile on her lips.

"That's very kind of you, honestly. I will tell you about today's story tomorrow, alright? After tutoring." Robin smiled back, handing over her jacket to Jorien, who was faster than her friend, just as always.

"I… had also kinda guessed, or rather hoped, that you would forget about tutoring for once." Cas shot Robin an exaggeratedly hopeful smile, a touch apologetic even, as if she already knew that it would be a request in vain.

"Not in this life, and not in the next." Robin smirked in return, feeling actually humoured more than offended by the weak attempt to evade tomorrow's lessons. "Tutoring, tomorrow after breakfast."

"Alright…" Cas groaned, rolling her eyes before she smiled in equal amusement. "Whatever you say, Professor Mitchell. See you tomorrow then. Can't wait for the stories of your adventures!" With that, she turned on her heels and tried dragging Jorien off with her, but then simply walked ahead when she wasn't successful at the first attempt.

"Goodnight, Sir." Jorien said, addressing Snape with a polite little nod before turning to Robin with a kind smile. "I'm really glad you're back, Robin. Good luck with your work." Then she hurried down the hallway as well, trying to catch up with Cas before she was entirely out of reach. And as much as Robin had grown to love her roommates over time, she couldn’t help sighing at the realization that an entire day alone with Snape had been but a glimpse into a perfection she could never have.

______________________________

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[shimzus-a]

[ TEARS ] :)

KISS MEME.

THERE’S   a place in every river, every stream, & every creek where the water splits. the force of the current pushes it over the banks repeatedly, seeking a new path where there was none before. not every river can be straight. they don’t continue for eternity, flowing in one way. always, always ... something has to give. 

kiyoko reflects on her life more than she’d like to, given the workload from her university studies that should otherwise keep her occupied. but when she sits at her desk to do homework & her eyes wander, towards the framed picture of her high school volleyball team, she can’t help but to reminisce. her river split shortly after high school, when all the smiles & poses for the group photo had worn out. back then, he was in the center of the photo, having been the captain. he had to be surrounded by his team. but she, just a manager, was on the furthest edges of the group from him. [ maybe it had been a sign that things wouldn’t work out, anyways. ]

for all her reasonableness, breaking up with sawamura was something that felt unnecessarily difficult. somehow, knowing him, kiyoko was sure that he’d question it or try to find away around it ... at least in the beginning. & it made sense. he’d never given up before with his team. why would he be willing to give up his heart now, either ?

still, she had to try. her heart tore against her when she had asked him for an END, though on her face there was no hint of doubt. she couldn’t have conveyed any, or he’d know. sawamura would catch onto her lie easily, she was certain.

so she broke up with him by detaching her heart & breaking his. she wouldn’t touch him, wouldn’t look at him ... wouldn’t even give him the shadow of a semblance of the feelings she once felt for him. it was clinical & proper, like completing a transaction at a bank.  ‘  we should ... stop seeing each other, i think.  ’  that was what she had told him. & she justified her actions by citing SCHOOL as the reason. their river parted when they went to different universities ... so why should she try to draw out their relationship when it felt impossible ?

kiyoko had thought about it for a long time. putting an end to one’s first relationship isn’t easy, especially if it goes against what the heart wants. but rather than trying to work through the pain of distance & stress later, it seemed like the smarter choice. she could handle the fallout later, but for sawamura’s sake & her own, at the time that had felt like the only option she was given. 

[ for good reason, too, she tried to remind herself. ] when she finally did start her university classes, she was busy, & far detached from social circles. trying to maintain things with sawamura at a separate school would have been hard, she reasoned. constantly, kiyoko had to tell herself those things, like reciting a prayer before the gods. the more she did so, the more she tried to heal the wounds of her heart. if everything had worked out alright because she had broken up with sawamura, then it was ok for her to recover. & with time, too, she would come to know a different love. 

... that had almost been true. 

certainly, she was able to push away the first feelings of pain when she buried herself into work instead. she went on a few dates with people in university, but nothing ever progressed very far. she was busy & never ready to commit. but that was fine. it wasn’t as if her heart had been sealed off, she thought. she had grown apart from sawamura in the same ways that she had grown up. since high school, kiyoko had changed, & re-evaluating her heart had been only one of the ways she’d done so. beyond that, she cut her hair, switched to contacts, & learned to keep in touch with friends like hitoka-chan & some of her first year classmates who helped her.

sawamura had changed, too, it seemed. though kiyoko had tried to keep her focus away— five steps to the side, never directly against— she still saw his posts on social media & heard about him from sugawara & azumane. she couldn’t avoid him forever, & it wasn’t as if she had planned on avoiding him. but she maintained a respectful distance in the understanding that she wouldn’t meddle in his life any longer ... & with her out of it, he could move on to other achievements of his own. 

[ kiyoko was glad he’d moved on. ] at least, a part of her was. there was a part that lingered, still, & grew to burn hot within her chest when she met his new girlfriend at a reunion with the other third years from karasuno. even if they hadn’t kissed or held hands in front of the group, kiyoko felt unsettled. sawamura was different, but still the same person she knew. he may have grown up as well, but her heart recognized him, & felt that even if he was different, he was familiar, & he was missed.

she pushed those feelings down, for the sake of his girlfriend. kiyoko was long gone from sawamura’s life, & she didn’t need to come back in where she was unwanted. she closed her eyes & willed it away ... for a time. but still, her heart beat a bit faster when sawamura smiled, & the feelings of warmth in her fingertips couldn’t be dissuaded when she thought about what it was like to have held his hand in high school.

the battle within her raged on a little longer, unbeknownst to those around her. kiyoko didn’t want to recognize that her feelings could have resurfaced, knowing that with them came consequences she wasn’t ready to face. but at the same time, that selfish, childish part of her had wanted a second chance. [ all along, that was what she had wanted, wasn’t it ? ] for the sake of sawamura, & for the sake of the girl he was now with, maybe it was better to leave her feelings locked away.

but over time, they built up, pressurized in her chest, until one day she acted unlike herself & told him.  ‘  i still have feelings for you,  ’  they burst out, almost from thin air. nothing about them had led her to admit that, nor had she cushioned the announcement. flatly, simply, with a severity in her eyes that said I’M TELLING THE TRUTH, she told him. & then, almost like an afterthought when she had realized it,  ‘  ... i’m sorry.  ’

she ran away when she saw him look at her with an expression she understood to be confusion.

so why now does she linger in the courtyard of their old high school, trying to piece together his feelings after he’d sent her a message asking to talk, then admitted he wasn’t with his girlfriend anymore ? [ she should push her heart aside again, & drift down her path of the river that had split from his at graduation. it would be easier that way. ]

kiyoko’s face feels hot, & she can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or simply not knowing what to do next. sawamura is in front of her, so close to her, & yet she holds back again. [ it’s been years ... he can’t feel the same. ] kiyoko hadn’t let him grow close enough to her in high school when they dated ... so he can’t warrant these kinds of feelings. he can’t still have feelings for her. 

she squeezes her eyes shut against the sight of him. 

‘  is this really what you want ?  ’  her head won’t let her move forward unless she confirms. there’s so much on her tongue that she feels she needs to explain. though she has doubts about his feelings, how can she be so sure of her own ? [ my heart knows you better than i know it myself ? i’m willing to learn how you’ve changed since high school ? i don’t think i ever stopped having feelings for you ? ]

kiyoko sighs. she flexes her fingers & waits for the answer. if she opens her eyes, she’ll see his face again & want to take it in her hands. so maybe it’s easier now to be BLIND.

except, he says something that she doesn’t expect. she had hoped for it, but wouldn’t hurt herself any more by EXPECTING IT. because if he had said no ... she would have had to manage that pain on her own again. her eyes flutter open at the answer, & she feels her mouth open slightly : for a breath, instead of a sound. she can’t say anything, & even if she had been able to form a word, she wouldn’t have known what to say.

she tries instead for silent language, slipping her hands gently over his & staring at them together. his are larger, tanner, while hers are slim & delicate. it looks funny ... but kiyoko’s heart tugs at the sight. she had thought it was kind of funny in high school, too, even though she relished in it then.

her eyes don’t leave their hands for a while. she has to drag them away, slowly, painfully, when she turns to his face. & by then, she’s slipping a hand against his cheek quietly, pulling herself closer. her heart beats, & kiyoko feels her chest rise & fall just a bit greater than usual, like she needs more air to fill her lungs just to still the rapid drumming in her body.

‘  can i kiss you now ?  ’

it’s proper ... a bit reserved, still. kiyoko finds herself leaning into sawamura, albeit her lips are meeting his cautiously. she works into the feeling, slowly & calmly, having not kissed him in years. it’s like doing it again for the first time, but she’s just as careful. she holds herself to him for a bit longer— not too long— & pulls away with a soft tingle against her lips. 

her hand raises to them almost immediately, keeping the warmth against them.

& she smiles.

[akiwisfics]

In Bloom Chapter 2

Notes: Cross-posted from AO3. If people get annoyed by this, please savior “kiwi crossposts” to save your eyes. Hey, if you’re a fan of KirarixSayaka, check our discord here .

Description: Mary accepts an invitation to watch from the president, and learns far more than she ever wanted.

Pairings: KirarixSayaka, MaryxRirika

---

The mask was never really hers to begin with, she thought. Ririka had looked on it with such ugliness as a child, bitter but needy-- like a starving man forced to drink salt water at sea. The more the ocean pulled and pushed her raft, the more desperate she grew to its poison. She had no other sanctuary, no other out. Perhaps it would’ve been better to die of thirst than to die of madness.

But it was there, a second skin and more familiar a face than her own. It looked far too large on her tiny frame as a child. The holes didn’t quite fit her eyes and there were inches that it went past her chin, almost covering her neck.

She always wondered where Kirari got it, but she had been far too afraid to ask. Disguised as an offer of freedom. Now a different form of shackle.

Ririka assumed it was better than being devoured by her own twin.

--

The separation hadn’t been official technically until that day. They sat, tea set perfectly placed with a precision she had always expected from Igarashi-san. She studied her more than she would care to admit. She moved back and forth across the council room so much more like her own stage, orchestrating a performance meant only for an audience of one-- but two. Her constant presence had become familiar in the couple of years that they’d been in power, and rarely had it meant anything beyond the admiration of her dedication.

She didn’t know when it changed, but Ririka knew exactly when she noticed it. Her tea had been left untouched, all too aware of the humor in her twin’s eyes as she studied Ririka, naked without the comfort of ceramic. She was never much for green tea anyway. It felt too much like soil in her mouth-- all too thick and all too bitter.

“She’s quite remarkable, isn’t she?” Kirari had asked, always digging for more than she should.

Mary was different. All too trusting, yet carved her own path. It wasn’t righteous fury. It wasn’t anything more than a desire to have her own choices. It was a conviction she both admired and envied. She could never hope to emulate the fire in her brown eyes, the way her blonde hair shimmered in the open sun. The way her smirk widened and head raised high in certain victory. It was easier to fake someone she knew so well.

Kirari was more predictable than she’d want to admit. The gaze was waiting for something she could gain from Ririka’s words, whether that would be a new perspective, a secret, or something that would blossom into a strategy later. Her mind was simple, focused. One that just simply craved chaos behind its wake. “Runa told me everything when she came back,” she continued, undeterred by Ririka’s stillness. “It’s true Miyo and Miri underestimated her, but they haven’t met anyone outside of our family that would handle poison so nonchalantly. She kept a good face.”

“Why do you like her so much?”

She took some small pleasure in the way Kirari was taken aback by the question at first, pausing mid-sip of her tea and setting it down with a small clink. It soon gave way to a chuckle however, making whatever show a small victory for her. “Why don’t you tell me?”

A trick question, maybe? There was a reason her sister wanted them together, collaboration-- independent from her. The first thought was an evaluation. Once they won the election again, the council would need to be reorganized. It was true Mary would be a prime candidate for one of the seats, but… “She already said no before. Not under you.”

She tsked at the response, disappointed. “Who’s to say? I hope for a challenge at least.”

“That’s all?”

That smile-- it showed life in her eyes, almost natural. She missed those glimpses. “Better.”

“President, if I may?” And suddenly Igarashi-san existed. She had a good habit of that-- something Ririka could almost say came from her. She would let herself exist in the periphery, letting events take its course until she was needed, or had something to say. Not all of it was useful to her, given all things considered, but the emotional consideration in it was at least respectable.

But in that moment. In the day in which Ririka would see Kirari almost alone, she saw the smile of a person as she outstretched her hand and offered the seat beside her. Igarashi’s smile was shakier, fragile-- but there wasn’t any redness or hesitation as she gently sat herself down. Not much space either.

Something had changed. Something she hadn’t noticed before.

Igarashi-san took a deep breath, organizing her thoughts before speaking. “I’m aware it’s unlikely Inbami and Yobami-san would go against Terano’s orders at this point, but…” Ririka had known the suggestion before being given. Igarashi-san, the natural logical mind that she had. The dedicated, servitude attitude. “... I think I’m more suited to open your mail from now on.”

“Oh?” Kirari humored it as she reached across the table and took Ririka’s untouched, cool tea to offer it to Igarashi-san. Ririka hadn’t bothered to look perturbed for the sake of it. The tea was likely to go to waste at this point. “Why would I do that?” She expected the obvious answer. Answers that she had heard from Igarashi-san before. They were the same reasons that got her the taser hidden away at her hip, intimate knowledge of Kirari’s daily routine and schedule (and perhaps a bit of her own). A bit of safety, a bit of peace of mind for her own secretary and for the school. It wouldn’t do well to see the president poisoned during a crucial moment of the election.

Igarashi-san held her gaze with confidence. “It’s not worth entertaining the small games at this point, and..” she eyed the cold tea a bit warily before declining the cup herself. “I would hate for you to lose out on what you enjoy because the sisters wanted to set an unknown time limit.”

That wasn’t exactly what she had in mind.

Kirari looked to Ririka, almost taunting-- waiting for a reaction of some sort. It was out of many years of experience that she remained as placid as she could. “At least go over the invitations before rejecting them?”

“Of course!”

--

Mary still avoided her.

She didn’t think she was skipping classes, but there wasn’t any sight of blonde hair as the classes let out each day. It only made the stone weight of guilt sink deeper inside of her. She wished she could fix it.

But to be Kirari? It was all second nature to her.

--

It had only been a week before Ririka sought her twin once again. The president’s absence, at so pivotal time in the election, had been keenly felt. She paid little attention to the rumors that circulated around the president ordinarily, but this time-- this time the rumors were loud. The well of votes was running dry, and what little dreams that pets had of clawing out of their status were quickly dashed as the placements became more and more concrete.

And yet-- the votes weren’t with Terano. They weren’t with Ririka, or indeed, even the president. Without tally from the election committee, it was hard to know where exactly those votes had gone to.

Her first thought was Mary, accruing what she needed in case her and Ririka’s falling out was permanent. It was impossible to know for certain, but the fact that she had yet to run into her gambling partner inside school grounds made that very unlikely. Not when she was so purposefully looking for her. The girl either didn’t actually care to win the election, or expected to reconcile at some point. A comforting thought, but one Ririka kept with cautious optimism.

The next suspect would be Yumeko. The girl had a magnetic attraction that drew the oddest and weakest to her, allured by the idea of freedom and her previous escapades in tearing the council asunder. Even now there had been tales of her using matches as a way of letting pets earn their freedom once again. That precisely was why she was an unlikely target though. Her votes and ranking fluctuated as much as her moods did. It would not be so noticeable a difference, nor would that feeling remain so long at once.

No. This adversary was new, and for right now, unknown.  The prevailing rumor was Kirari, or perhaps Igarashi-san, was gaining the votes by proxy-- planting players on her behalf while she dealt with some unknown business. Once she returned, she would then grab the votes via staged games.

But the longer the absence went, the longer people saw the truth that the rest of the top ten already knew. This wasn’t some grand play on her part, unveiling herself as the victor in some grand gesture. The president was missing. Her second in command was missing with no one left to defend it. It wasn’t hard for students to assume that this was Kirari’s resignation.

As to why the secretary was gone as well? Those rumors were at least somewhat darkly humorous. Some suggestions that she had become a recluse, that the quarantine the other day was a scene of some hideous suicide or murder by her finally snapping from the constant orders. More boring ones were that she had been disowned by her family or that her family had become destitute. Not one dared to try to connect the two disappearances, lest they risk the wrath of the president upon her return.

However, there was never anyone that Kirari didn’t know, especially one making waves like this. A clue or two could prove advantageous. There were also more pressing questions, ones that had been weighing heavily every time she came home to an empty mansion.

Her steps were quiet as she made her way up the stairs to a private, closed off section of the hospital. No doubt a personal expense on Kirari’s part. Gone was the chatter of overworked nurses and the moans and pratter of other patients. What staff that stayed at the station kept their lips sealed and eyes downward as Ririka passed them. She didn’t pay it a second thought, already used to being ignored by most anyone whenever she was away from her sister. It wouldn’t be hard to find the room. The one the nurses ignored the most, and the scent of burnt tea leaves were the main indicators.

However, she hadn’t expected to see Terano wheel out of the very room, pushed by a somewhat somber Yumi-- a rare sight to behold and mull over later. They met eyes, almost reluctantly by them both. Even Ririka found the air stale in that moment.

“I suppose even you would be curious,” Terano stated plainly.

Her fingers twitched, subconsciously looking for a mask she had forgotten. It didn’t feel right. “How is Igarashi-san?” she deflected, eyes flickering to the door behind Terano.

“Asleep, but healthy. I doubt she’ll need to stay much longer.”

“Good.”

She had eyes like Kirari’s. Sharp and never straying from their target. It dug and dug until there was nothing left. It took everything not to look away. “It seems I have to come up with a different method. Even with Igarashi gone, no one seems interested in selling votes anymore.”

The timing was odd, wasn’t it? She had thought the poisoning was a last ditch effort by the sisters to gain power over the branches, but Terano had something to gain. Whether the target had been Igarashi-san or Kirari, whether it would succeed or fail-- it would lock her biggest competitor out.  Though Terano’s methods tended to have more finesse than this, Ririka wouldn’t put it past the girl to take advantage of Miyo and Miri’s recklessness. Momobamis were opportunistic in nature, with few glaring exceptions.

“Did she say anything?” Ririka asked, softer this time as not to alert anyone inside the room.

Terano sighed, “What do you think?”

Ririka wasn’t sure anymore. The answer was usually no. Usually something obtuse, a tease perhaps. Kirari rarely spoke what she meant in plain, direct gestures. It was really the biggest difference between the two. Terano’s mind was just as sharp, perhaps even more clever than her twin-- but she spared very little time for eloquence. Especially not with those that irritated her.

Her sister could’ve said something. Terano may know who it is already. If that were the case, she doubt the information would be passed along easily. She kept an air of nonchalance as she slipped past her rival to the hospital door.

“Ririka?”

Her hand paused, fingers brushing against the handle.

“I don’t know what her game plan is. But if you really are looking to stop her, meet with me later. Bring Saotome-san.”

Mary would have to talk to her again first. She was still working on that. Even then, she didn’t think she could trust that idea. It seemed too much like an invitation to open old wounds. Create new ones behind them. It was hard enough to be independent for the first time in years-- she didn’t want to spend that time forming questionable alliances. Kirari’s orders or not, she at least trusted Mary. She couldn’t say the same of Terano.

She didn’t respond, electing to instead open the door finally and peer inside the hospital room. Terano’s dark eyes bore into her back well after the door had been clicked shut behind her. The clan was familiar with dangerous games. All of them. It wouldn’t do well to dwell on offers like that. She could only figure Terano was trying to consolidate votes now that buying them was no longer an option. Introducing a new player wasn’t a bad solution to that-- one strong enough to garner so many votes so quickly.

But that was a better question for the occupants in the room. The desk was an… interesting new addition. Pure dark mahogany, one she recognized from their own personal collection at home. She had come by at some point then. Almost every inch of it’s top had been covered in various papers and junk. Empty tea cases, voting chips, life plans, and various correspondence from contacts all made an appearance somewhere on its surface. Kirari bothered with none of it, instead hunched over a laptop with brow furrowed and deep, frustrated scowl on her features.

Ririka tried not to smile at the sight. The position of secretary had been a priority position to fill when they had started for this very reason. Kirari had a long, passionate hatred for paperwork. It was nice to see that the fact still stood. Hopefully she was kind enough to not disturb the privacy curtain behind her over a signature or two.

“You can stare or you can sit down,” Kirari quipped, never moving her eyes away from the screen. The blue eyes that scanned words on white page looked strange with the screen reflecting back in the irises that mirrored her own. No trace of make-up, perhaps left forgotten in her deserted bedroom. The cleanliness was as much a ghost to her as the absence.

Ririka bowed her head sheepishly as she sank into the wooden chair across from her, noting the slight quirk of Kirari’s lips as the chair scraped across tile.

“And quiet. I just convinced her to sleep.”

“How was the visit with Terano?”

She stopped a moment, shutting the laptop lid with a click. Ririka knew she would receive little more consolation. “She isn’t a fan of burnt tea.”

“And?”

“It’s interesting. How can you be afraid of your own questions?”

“I thought you liked dancing around subjects.”

“This? This is procrastination.”

Ririka noted the hard lines of Kirari’s posture, not unlike a cornered animal, and realized that neither of them wanted to be here. Blue eyes sharpened, guarded -- as if forgetting who was it that set Ririka free in the first place. “... What are you doing?” she asked. It was her that came, her that took that first step. It might as well be her to start.

“Working.” Kirari picked up one of the many scattered life plans as if to emphasize her point. She dropped it onto her laptop with an unimpressive flap, only half-heartedly keeping the charade going. “So if you could get to the point, dear sister?”

She tried to bite down the accusation that Kirari was procrastinating too. It was easy to accuse her of hiding from her own consequences, that perhaps the election was more than she could handle, and now that her last remaining support had been put out of commission temporarily, she was keeping her head down in the hope that whatever strings she pulled in the background would save her from plummeting. It was all there, ready to burn from her throat like an inferno, the last little bit of servitude inside her ready to turn inside out. But then-- then it wilted inside at the sight of icy eyes staring back, retreating into the crevices of dark thoughts entertained in those empty nights.

Ririka looked to the privacy curtain again. “... You haven’t been sleeping here, have you?”

Kirari shook her head. “Like Sayaka could actually recover with me being here~. Imagine me cramming in that tiny bed? It’s just not practical.”

Practical was a strange word from her. “So where--”

Her ears picked up the shifting behind them, just as Kirari placed a finger to her own lips. With feather light movement, Kirari slipped from her own chair and pulled the curtain back just a moment. Then drew the curtain behind her.

Ririka averted her eyes out of courtesy, even with the curiosity burning inside her and the lack of anything she could actually see with the sheet of fabric between them. When had the dynamic changed? She tried to think of the nights spent apart-- how it seemed so little as Ririka spent her time at the main house, enacting the very desire that had been brewing deep in her twin’s heart for so long.

What had happened at that tower? Had the fall jumbled her brain, putting it back together with the pieces haphazard, broken in different ways?

She didn’t look back until her twin had taken her place back at the other side of the desk, fingers naturally reaching for a cup of cold, burnt tea. As soon as she remembered the lack of steam billowing though, her fingers dropped. “So Saotome-san has stopped talking?”

It didn’t surprise Ririka that she was checking on her still, even without Igarashi-san’s wary eyes cataloguing their every move. “Does it surprise you?”

“I expected better.”

She always did. Ririka could write a book from the names of people that had disappointed Kirari in some way. Always particular, but needs simple when granted. She didn’t enjoy counting the years in which she catered to her every whim. “How?” she asked, even if she already knew the answer, “What was the point of bringing her over at all? You made the decision already before the phone call.”

The chuckle in response only unsettled her further. Ririka didn’t enjoy the feeling of being just slightly off-balance, the way it sank and settled long after their conversations were finished. “You’re angry!” she noted, almost exuberant at the thought, “How long did it take you to want more than just partners, Ririka? The election hasn’t been that long--”

“What are you doing here, sister?”

The teasing stopped, but the smile never faded from icy eyes. She gathered the life plan and laptop, and settled it to the side, joining the growing pile of discarded paperwork and signatures. The silence that suddenly fell over them was one of the worst she’d ever experienced, heavy and tempting to break-- as if held together by glass and nothing else. Ririka hadn’t wanted to come out with it, and she didn’t consider what it would mean for Kirari to pull those questions out. Yet, still, she gathered more items-- tea sets and tea boxes joining the disheveled pile with little thought or direction. The space that formed beside Kirari’s seat only made the dread inside her worse.

Her twin tapped just one on the wooden surface, chipping the manicured nail. Ririka picked up her chair and moved it to the other side of the desk to join her. She sat daintily back down her new seat, knees brushing against her twin as they faced each other. She gulped, visibly.

Kirari didn’t make mention of it. “It’d been a while since we played together, hasn’t it?”

Ririka nodded quietly in response, and wasn’t surprised by the coin fished out of Kirari’s pocket. It was a game that they often played together as children, practice that had been drilled into her heads before they had the presence of mind to gamble properly.  The coin was a two euro-- Austrian if she remembered right. The mix of silver and gold that bordered it stuck out as a sharp contrast from typical yen coins. One side had the depiction of mozart emblazoned proudly as its head, and the other a map of Europe with stars streaking downward on the other side. The number ‘2’ was the most prominent feature on its tail. It helped to keep those defining features in mind as she predicted.

The euro had been a gift from their mother, to whoever won their first game against the other. She would be proud to know that such a prize was turned into a gamble too.

“We both have questions we want to ask. I assume it’s just as easy to let the game decide who asks first.”

“One question per victory?” though it didn’t need to be asked. As much as Kirari had changed, there were still so many things that became predictable.

“That’s fine. I’ll go first.” Kirari offered the coin in her outstretched palm, smile placid and deviously devoid of the thoughts playing in her mind. Ririka plucked the coin out, nails lightly scratching similarly pale skin.

She looked to Kirari once and sighed. There wasn’t any backing out now, she supposed. Ririka steeled herself as she placed the coin on the table, balancing between her thumbnails. What would anyone say, seeing them play such a childish game like this? Now, of all times? She supposed she should be grateful that there wasn’t anything beyond information being gambled between the two.

It was, at least, deceptively simple. There wasn’t much she could do as she let loose the coin in a fast spin, knowing full well that the ball was in her sister’s court. The objective of the game was simple-- predict which side the coin would fall after it completed its spins. There were ways to slant the odds on Ririka’s end, and ways for Kirari to predict accurately on hers-- things that as children they couldn’t manage on their own. At least, not immediately. Over time, Ririka would notice how flicking the coin a certain would give her heads more often, and over time still, Kirira would notice the changes.

They taught themselves how to gamble just as much as their family did, but Ririka had learned early on that her twin always learned just a bit faster.

“Tails,” Kirari said, just as the coin shot out between them, spinning its dizzying circles against the wood. Just as much as her finger or spin could alter the outcome, so could the surface. Like any true expensive piece, the desk had a natural finish to it, smooth enough for papers and work-- but the edge of a coin, even one as thick as a euro-- was thin.

The coin’s arch was interrupted by a telling groove of wound, smacking it unimpressively against the desk. The coin shuddered a few beats, but the ringing noise was only a prelude to Ririka’s fate. As the sisters peered on, the face of the coin’s ‘2’ was obvious to both players.

She glanced to her sister once, and hoped that whatever question came was something Ririka knew how to answer.

“If you were so worried, why did you come at all?”

Kirari was pulling back. The question was nothing, but the fact that someone like her wouldn’t start out strong was surprising on its own. The answer didn’t need any subterfuge. “Because I wanted to help you.”

“We’re competing against each other now.”

“If it was about the election maybe…”

--

Kirari could only lie so much. She knew exactly what she saw back then, alone in the hallway together. She remembered watching as Kirari put herself back together with trembling hands, eyes never focusing on one thing in particular, and something in her heart that could be described as fear. She remembered how human she looked, and perhaps, for once, the idea that the perfect world she had set up for herself would slip through her fingers.

Ririka had been stuck on the idea that it was losing Sayaka was her idea of that perfect world breaking. She didn’t know anymore than Mary or anyone else did, but there had been something different in the way Kirari turned to her. The way she looked… alone.

She didn’t help a competitor. She had helped her sister.

“We should switch places,” Kirari had said, as if the words were enough to dispel the awkwardness of seeing her in such a state. “I have a spare jacket in the council room. If you could grab that, and--”

“Are you alright?” Though Ririka had spoken it, the words still felt foreign. She couldn’t remember any other time she had asked.

The question had disjointed her, maybe. The way she stopped, fingers picking at the lace of her sleeves. A breath, and she had stood a bit straighter, shoulders back. A handkerchief out of her skirt pocket to wipe the smeared lipstick. “Yes. The jacket, please. Make-up is in the drawer by my chair.”

She did as she was told, even as the nagging thoughts never strayed far from her mind. They stuck to her-- well beyond the conclusion of their game, as Kirari terrorized Miyo and Miri with her face, even as Mary continued to avoid her for days, and even as each night, she returned home to emptiness. She hated what this election had become for both of them.

She hated that she even doubted how truly gone Kirari was.

--

The hand was open to Ririka once again, the coin ready to be returned to its rightful owner. The half-answer was sufficient then, but it only made Ririka more nervous. She'd either use it to her advantage-- answer with half-truths herself or force Ririka's guard down enough to get something truly damning out. All things considered, it was probably a bit of both. She would have to be considerate of Mary as they continue.

"Always the nervous one," Kirari remarked, a touch of amusement in her voice as she rolled the coin between her finger tips. "You know it's only going to get harder from here."

She spun the coin with grace and ease-- the prospect of losing never once crossing her mind. "Tails," Ririka spoke, voice whisper quiet as they watched the coin spin and spin between them.

Heads.

"Do you enjoy having the mask off? Where is it now?"

"Two questions."

"Fine-- the first one then. I imagine you just have it at home."

If Kirari had been at home, she would know that already. It sat at her desk, slowly gathering dust the longer Ririka pretended it wasn't there. Walking through the hallways had proved to be the most difficult, laid bare by the student population. Sometimes, she would catch the less subtle ones gawking at her before turning their head away, embarassed at being caught.

And yet, people looked at her. They were forced for the first time in years to recognize her presence. They had to look her in the eyes to see that she wasn't Kirari. And Ririka had to force herself to look back. She had to dig something out for herself, become someone.

But she enjoyed the way Mary looked at her most.

"... Yes," she admitted. Nothing to be ashamed about, but...

Kirari looked pleased. She offered the coin once again, but Ririka hesitated this time in taking it.

"You were the one that gave it to me," she said.

"You needed it. Obviously, you don't anymore."

That wasn't how she remembered it. The idea had been suggested, forcefully, as a way to face opponents head on. But it didn't take long for Kirari to use it for her own means-- as things often did when Kirari gave gifts. Over time, the mask had become unnecessary. Mannerisms, behaviors, just the way Kirari viewed and studied each person became memorized and ingrained. Still, somehow, they were here, and in just a few weeks, Ririka seemed to forget who her twin was.

She took the coin, and spun it.

"Heads."

It took her a moment to realize Kirari was wrong-- but what observations Kirari made weren't infallible. Now that she had it, Ririka wasn't sure what to ask first. Should she go for something easy? Kirari wasn't the sort to shy away from the worst, but it was so easy to doubt herself now that they were in this position.

To start-- perhaps back to their earlier conversation? "What did you and Terano talk about?"

Kirari shrugged. "The new player."

That confirmed her suspicions at least. Someone that wasn't so different from herself or even Igarashi-san. Just in the background until they had something to say. A name came to mind, but if it was true... Ririka would find out soon enough. She offered the coin back to her sister, and promptly lost the next spin.

The quick intake of breath wasn't lost on Kirari. "You need to focus more-- I heard you and Terano talking too. What would Saotome-san say to such an offer?"

She would have to talk first. It didn't matter right now, but that could be why Kirari was asking at all. She wanted her to think about it. Someone like Mary? ... She wouldn't consider the offer at all. Maybe even find it a bit insulting. The offer was only extended after they made a name for themselves, only after victories against key family members on their own.

She would scowl, and make sure that the refusal would be as easy on Ririka as it was for her. Instead, Ririka mirrored the shrug, earning a small laugh from her sister. "Much better. Then again, I know the answer already."

The next spin went better on Kirari. Something had pulled her attention away-- another shift of the bed sheets behind them. When she snapped her head back, noticed the heads before her, Kirari didn't cry foul-- simply sighing in bemusement.

"Do you think you can win this?" Ririka asked once their eyes met again. She watched for any change in her expression.

Blue eyes retreaded back to the curtain, still as ever. "... Isn't it more fun not knowing?" More guarded. It wasn't like Kirari to show her hand so early. Still, Ririka saw it.

Another spin, and Ririka bit back a smile at the correct call. They weren't done. Not yet. "What do you think will happen if you lose?"

"Now we're getting to why you're here, aren't we?"

"Kirari."

"Fine, fine." She took the coin good-naturedly. "I suppose if I'm not dead by a gamble, I'll be devoured by my own aquarium, won't I? It seems poetic enough. I hope no one disappoints."

Deflection with grandiose speeches. She'd seen it all too often to take it seriously. This would require a different approach then. The fact that she was falling back on something so obvious was... telling, to say the least.

Ririka waited. The spin was sloppy, and it was easy to call the heads well before the momentum had come to a stop.

An eye twitch. Even better.

"And Igarashi-san? If you lose that is..."

Kirari let the silence hang between them, its spectre continuing to gnaw at the nerves of them both. She could deflect much the same way-- easily admit the truth of the matter. Guilt by association was already a realistic result, but Igarashi-san was never just an impassive observer. She made deals, taunted those that fell, defended the president's honor. She was the executor of the president's will, even if Kirari hadn't always voiced those thoughts.

She'd seen it time and time again, and would still now, if not for the current division. The Bami clan may come after Ririka when it was all over, but the school? They knew her as Mary's partner now. If anything, the directive absolved her of Kirari's eventual devouring.

She couldn't, wouldn't let herself believe it was on purpose.

Kirari picked up the coin again. It glinted under the hospital overhead lights. That was it then?

Ririka looked further, only growing more frustrated by the nothing that she saw in her sister's gaze. Cold, detached as ever. "Do you know what the school is saying right now, with you gone?"

"Of course."

"They'll find out why sooner rather than later."

She looked pensive. Something deep in her thoughts, turning-- far and away out of Ririka's reach. The smile was gone. "One more game?"

Could Kirari afford it? She hadn't waited for a direct response. She supposed the fact that Ririka remained had been enough. She spun the coin with a graceful flick, and there was something wistful in the way she watched it.

"Tails," Ririka called.

The light chuckle that came out was foreign to her. They both watched the coin spin and spin, languidly slow compared to the rounds before. Ririka was already forming the next question in her mind-- even as she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to it. There was so much left in the air, so much that still dug in.

Kirari had changed, and as the coin finally stopped its roll, her hand slammed down on it palm down, covering the result for them both.

Ririka blinked. "Wha--" She snapped her attention back to her twin.

"Are you sure?"

Her voice, her questions. All of it wilted the moment she saw them.

--

It must have been fate that she would find Mary now. Ririka had still been reeling from her time spent with her twin, one of the first private conversations they had in weeks. It had been routine that took her to the spot outside of Mary's classroom, routine that had her looking through the sea of faces to find fiery brown eyes staring back. She almost thought it an illusion at first. The sympathetic wince from Suzui-san as he slipped past next, recognizing the tension in the hallway, was very real.

"Mary--"

The blonde snatched the collar of her blazer and dragged her through the corridor, away from prying eyes. Ririka remained submissive to the yanks and pushes. It would take a careful hand to talk her down from anything considerably dangerous. The fact though that she was willing to talk at all now was a very good sign.

The twist through corners and hallways was haphazard, but by the time they finally stopped, it seemed sufficiently deserted. There were a few students that milled about, but ones that seemed wisely -- if not politely-- ignoring the two of them as Mary did an about face, only a few inches from Ririka's shrinking form.

"We're cutting the bullshit, got it?" Mary snapped. "No excuses, no nothing. If I get any of it, I'm out."

Ririka nodded.

"Alright, so what the hell was that about?!"

Too vague a question, but she understood well enough. She almost welcomed the reprieve after the tense conversation from yesterday. "... She wanted the attention away from her, so she asked me to switch places."

"I get that, but the fact that she mimicked you so... I didn't think she could show anything other than.. you know."

She understood how her sister gave that impression. Often times, Ririka would forget herself. The detached air. Some sort of cocky smirk. The reality for them both was much, much scarier she thought.

Mary still looked angry. Very angry. "Has she ever switched places with you since we started working together?"

"No. I hadn't spoken to her since--"

"How can I believe that?"

Ririka winced. She couldn't blame her. It wasn't as if she had been there to see the decision play out. They hadn't known each other long enough for her to notice tells-- smaller mistakes or nuances that Ririka couldn't replicate without several days of pretending. She wasn't sure if even Sayaka could-- even after knowing them for three years at this point.

Mary's eyes were as sharp as ever, daggers in her heart. She hated this. Hated this all so much. "You've been Kirari's understudy this whole time," she wished she didn't do this. "I know you mean well, Ririka. It might be the dumbest decision, but I trust you. We can't just keep doing this though... Why would you be in this election if you weren't working with Kirari? There's no way in hell you want to be president."

She was right about that.

"I doubt anyone would let you anyway," she huffed, arms crossed-- as if working out the riddle herself without input. "Why me? Kirari already had some... weird fascination, but I barely knew you before the--"

"You're right," her voice was meeker than she wanted, but Ririka couldn't deal with the speculation. She had grown so tired of being a shadow against the wall. Mary was the first person to see her, it felt like.  She didn't just take her as a Momobami, take her as her sister's double. She took her as a person-- someone that needed to prove herself against the sea of adversity that faced them.

Ririka had been proud to rise to the occasion. Had been proud to stand beside her as her equal, and she thought... she thought...

Wasn't this what Kirari wanted too? Didn't it seem like it? But why did she keep pulling the chain back?

Mary waited, eyebrows drawn and patient-- and Ririka couldn't appreciate that more. She knew it was so against her nature to be.

"... I think she needs help."

Her partner looked as bewildered as Ririka felt. "Help?! She did this to herself!"

"I know, but..."

--

Kirari had never cried.

At least, Ririka couldn't recall a time where she did. There had been these... shifts in behavior though. Ones that were difficult for her to describe, especially as, like with gambling, they started as children. They were swift and immediate, and often, Ririka would notice they came with little consideration to their consequences.

The first time had been at their mother's wake. She knew they were small, and the kimono felt too tight against her waist. Ririka had cried. She had shed more tears than what their mother likely deserved according to their elders, but there had been some semblance of love-- something Ririka keenly felt and believed in at that age. At first, she thought her twin had felt nothing in return-- as if she had taken that grief for her instead.

But when she looked into her icy eyes, they looked... wild. Unfocused. A predator pacing its cage, watching and waiting for the next hapless prey get too close to its bars.

Maybe it was how their mother died that did it. Shamed and hanging herself from the ceiling. Kirari was the first to find her in her bedroom, trying to pull her for breakfast. Ririka had been spared from the sight, even as Kirari expressed nothing other than the news of their mother's passing-- She would find out the details later from a retainer or a cousin perhaps. It was difficult to remember the details there.

Or that their mother lost against a Totobami.

Either way, Terano had come by, and after some mild discussion, they were secluded away-- out of sight and out of reach from Ririka. No one had minded the absence-- as clan members rarely did unless it involved one conflict or another.

She would see those wild eyes later though, staring down at every family member below her with fire from her bedroom balcony-- a fitting, temporary throne as their family observed the horrific scene before them. A crumpled and unconscious Terano, five cards clutched tightly in tiny fingers.

No one had taken the Momobami spot since.

But still...

Still.

To see the tears slipping down those wild eyes was a startling and mishapen image, especially to have that attention turned toward her-- those few inches between them, and Kirari tightly, tightly clutching the desk where the coin laid.

Ririka wished she had said no. She hadn't realized how much it meant to see her vulnerable-- sudden and stark in the stillness of the hospital room.

Her words were gone, but without thinking, Ririka had still reached forward, bridging the gap between them and gently slipped a thumb underneath Kirari's palm. Her twin didn't flinch, didn't move. Her breathing was steady, but Ririka's heart thumped wildly inside her chest. Her thumb found her twin's pulse, felt the steady beats against her own, and turned Kirari's hand over with no resistance.

The heads that stared back seemed to mock her. Ririka had lost.

Kirari took one look at the coin and began to laugh, loud and jubilant, even as the tears seemed to flow quicker and steadier than ever.

--

"Ririka?"

She blinked and shook-- and realized all at once that there wasn't any way she could naturally explain it to Mary. Not without explaining every sordid detail of their lives. Not without going over what she saw, when Ririka wasn't even sure of it herself. She saw the confusion still plain as day on Mary's face, and sighed slow, each piece of it an attempt to dispel what anxiety that brewed inside her at the memory.

"I... I don't know," Ririka confessed.

She was surprised to see sympathy tugging at Mary's features. "... You would know better than anyone, I think."

She wasn't sure anymore. It just took a few weeks, but it seemed Ririka had forgotten everything there was to her twin. Tears pricked at her eyes, useless and stupid for something so-- Kirari wouldn't have cared. She was just as much a subject to her whims. But she was her sister. Her twin. And right now? It all felt useless against what little time they had been separated from each other.

Mary took pity on her at least, cutting the inquisitive silence first. "Alright, alright. I'll bite," she sighed. "... So the preside-- your sister is having issues with the position. What's the point of the election then if she can just resign? A really shit cry for help?"

"If I may interject, Mary-san?"

Yumeko's airy voice had been the last thing Ririka expected, and with a jump, she snapped to a more stoic, straight posture-- fingers itching for a mask that still wasn't there. The new visitor had just rounded the corner, red eyes dangerously inquisitive and smile more calculating than Ririka wanted. The last person she needed to hear this conversation was the other wildcard in the school.

Yet, Mary humored her, regarding her classmate casually with one hand to her hips. "Figures no one can have a private conversation at this school..." she mumbled to herself before addressing Yumeko directly. "How long have you been listening?"

"I was just curious is all~. You two left in quite the hurry, and I wanted to invite you to town after class!"

"Yeah, right," Mary scoffed, but didn't push the girl away as she casually latched onto her arm, molding herself into the conversation. Every alarm was going off in Ririka's mind despite it all. Every bit of her wanted to flee. Right now. Where? Didn't matter. This was bad. Their conversation proceeded, undeterred by Ririka's distress. "... And?"

"Well, it's about the gamble the other day, correct?"

"Not all of it, but..."

"I imagine you can't just quit being a clan member, Ririka-san?" The question had been off-putting at best.

Ririka swallowed. "Well, no. But you know this already, Jabami-san."

"Huh?" Mary interjected, but Yumeko proceeded nonetheless.

"This is all speculation, of course, but the election is quite a spectacle for a resignation letter, isn't it?" The suggestion wasn't far off from Ririka's own thoughts, but to hear them spoken out loud was quite the experience. It churned her stomach. "... Igarashi-san's pool of resources is also quite large for her family history. She's a prosecutor's daughter, yet she was able to buy out Totobami-san without issue?"

"And? She could be using student council resources, maybe," Mary suggested, "The student council is still collecting on house pet debt during this whole mess, and I hadn't heard of the election committee keeping it to themselves in the mean time."

"They could be betting on another victor, you know. An outside bet-- just with enough cash-- and regardless of losing or winning, the president could have the cushion to live comfortably outside of the clan."

Ririka frowned. Something didn't sit right with her about the theory. If that were true, then the decision to turn her twin loose would make sense. Without saying anything, she could assist and push Mary to victory, thus winning the bet. Her opponent would have to be someone with just as much resources as herself to do that. The only person she could consider with that much power would be Terano... but there was no way she would take such a bet on.

There was also another issue entirely. "The Bami clan doesn't settle debt by money. Not always," Ririka remarked, "With as much as Kirari and myself have done? If it's not blood, it'll be our freedom at least."

"I won't let that happen to you, Ririka." The declaration had been unneeded, yet pleasantly unexpected from Mary. The surprise must've been too obvious as the serious set of her frown had given way to light flash of cheeks and a playful wave of her hand. Something she could look onto later, when there wasn't an audience.

Yumeko wasn't lost on the interaction as she smiled, suppressing the barest of giggles. "In any case, the president is back in school. If you're that curious, I'm sure you could ask her yourself."

"She's back?" Mary echoed her thoughts perfectly. "When??"

"I just saw her come in this morning. Sayaka-san looked remarkably well too. I'm glad the poison didn't keep her down for too long."

"Thank god! Maybe I can finally get someone to gamble again! Everyone's been so shy with votes lately."

"Oh! You haven't met them yet?"

Mary paused, "Who are you talking about?"

Ririka waited, even as she knew at this point that it would just confirm the truth in her eyes. A new target had been placed. It was a clever move on Kirari's part during her absence. It dried up the vote buying, and provided a convenient distraction while Igarashi-san was recovering. It was simply a matter of who could beat them, or perhaps, join them.

Yumeko's grin was wide. "Why, Rei Batsubami~."

[storytimefromthecreed]

Have We Met?

 (1)

The man had been watching her at the bar for a long time now, and their eyes kept meeting. Chewing on her lip, her eyes flickered to her drink and her friend shifted beside her. “There’s a hot guy checking you out.” Lydia swooned and casually looked over at him again, wagging her fingers, before Eve swat her.

“Shut up. Yes, I’ve noticed.”

“Go say hey.”

“No! We never get to go out. Besides, what would I say?”

Finishing her drink, Lydia slid the glass away and grabbed her purse. “Well, if I were you, I’d figure it out soon.”

Before she could ask what she meant, Lydia looked over her shoulder, smiled, and headed out. Eve felt him standing there, and she bit her bottom lip. She was going to kill Lydia. Turning around, there he was. God, he was more handsome up close. Warm, brown eyes framed by dark lashes flickered to Lydia’s retreating form and back to hers, uncertainty in them. It was...adorable the way his lips formed a pout. “Is your friend ok?” An accent colored his voice, and Eve’s attraction to him only grew. Somewhere warm? Mediterranean?

“Work in the morning, so she’s leaving me to have fun.”

“By yourself?” A brow rose, and she pulled out the seat beside her.

“Only if you want me to be.” The man looked down at his shoes before his eyes flickered up to hers. That look, it was strange, her smirk faltering. So familiar...

“How about we let the Fates decide?” The man looked at the bar, searching the bottles.

“Oh?”

A playful smirk on his full lips, he pointed to her glass. “If I guess what you’re drinking, can I buy you another glass?”

“l’ll feel bad if you bought me a drink, lucky for me, you’re never gonna guess.”

“Humor me?” Sensing the challenge, Eve nodded.

“May I?” The man extended his hand, and she slipped her glass to him. The spark of electricity that bolted through her at the contact of his lingering fingers against her skin made her gasp.

If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Sniffing the glass, giving it a twirl, then taking a drop, he smiled. A beaming, bright, adorable smile.

“Ah, a fan of Greek wine?”

“How did you...?” He was already turning to the bartender and asking for another. Eve leaned back, impressed. “My friends make fun of me, but I tried it once and haven’t found anything good since.”

“Hm,” the man rose a glass and they toasted. “Where did you try it?” She opened her mouth, then closed it. The memory was foggy. “Sorry, I shouldn’t pry. Just fascinated with your tastes.”

“You’re from Greece, aren’t you?” Eve smirked, “Guess I have a type.”

The man laughed, giving her a knowing look that she couldn’t comprehend.

(A very long time ago...)

Of all the adventures he’d gone on, falling in love was his favorite. For a long time, love had alluded him. Of course, he’d loved many times, but finding that person he wanted to have a home with never appeared to him. Alexios began to believe it was not in his cards until he’d run into her.

Technically, she ran into him. Couldn’t blame her. Alexios was admiring the mountain tops when the thump at his shoulder made him yell. “Malaka!”

An arrow pointed at his face, Alexios dove to the side and drew his weapons for the fight. The unmistakable whizzing made him pull his sword to his side to block, but he found the arrows never found their target. Or, at least, he wasn’t the target.

Two men fell before she twisted, pulling her sword from her side and stabbed the man attempting to sneak up on her. The men fell with thuds, and she span, grabbing her sword and spearing it through another. Alexios watched from the sidelines, unsure whose side he should be taking. A man grabbed her from behind, and Alexios leapt into the fray.

Throwing her head back, she caught him with a sickening crack and twisted from his grasp just as Alexios drove him through. “Are you ok?”

“Would be had you not ruined my hunt.” Was her response, and Alexios rolled his eyes. Another mercenary? Gods! Before he could respond, swords entered the battle and Alexios braced himself. He leapt into this, now he had to finish it. “Can you use that sword?” She cut a man’s throat before ducking through another’s defense. This man Alexios cut down. Her brow rose and briefly, ever so briefly, she looked impressed. Then the battle raged, and they were preoccupied.

Cleaning her blades and placing them skillfully back across her back, at her waist, and in her boots; Alexios watched her. “You’re a skilled fighter.”

“Not so bad yourself, when you’re not falling into my ambush.” Unlike before, her tone was playful. “What are you doing out here anyway? It’s dangerous.” Alexios’s jaw dropped. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you to town safely.” Her wink stopped his heart as she brushed past him.

“Hey! That’s my job.” Alexios found himself stammering.

“Not anymore.” She looked him and down, not like how other people did. There was nothing sexual in her gaze. It was like she was evaluating him. Alexios gulped. “Aren’t you going to ask your savior’s name?”

A smile grew despite himself, and he found himself greatly enjoying her company. “What’s your name?”

“Genevieve.” She declared proudly. “Yourself?”

“Alexios.” A cry sounded and he rolled his eyes upward. “And that’s Ikaros.” The challenging expression softened to wonderment as the bird flew to his arm and rose its head for scratches. In an instant, she reached a hand and Alexios sucked in his breath. “He normally doesn’t...” But the bird puffed and rubbed his face around her hand. Never mind then. This woman had stolen his title, his heart, and now his bird.

Many years would pass, and Alexios would still feel for her what he felt that day. Alexios rolled over and his fingers reached out. Brushing against her back, he hummed and pulled himself closer. Her giggling filled the room, and he buried his face into her back. Smelling lilacs and rosewater.

All these mornings, and he still did the same thing. Even though she teased him for holding onto her stomach as he slept, she would hold his hands there before cradling them to her chest, kissing them until he awoke. “A good rest, I take it?” Alexios nodded without answer, already trying to go back to sleep. “Considering how late we went to bed last night.” Motionless. Pouting, she stopped kissing to look over her shoulder to check if he was sleeping. Before she could fully turn over, Alexios pulled her so that her back hit the bed and he was hovering over her with a toothy grin. Sleep weighed on his eyes, his hair was messily undone, and his smile was playful while his eyes twinkled.

“Getting slow, misthios?” He loved calling her that.

Truth be told, she didn’t mind this change in position. “Am not!”

“Should’ve let me sleep in.” Rolling off her, Alexios kissed her hands and turned to ready himself for the day before she tugged at him and latched herself to his back. “Yes?” Alexios raised his arms, taking her hands in his and rocking side to side until he spun under her arm and faced her. Swaying side to side to music only they heard, Alexios just enjoyed her morning look. When her hair was wild and her eyes sleepy.

Side stepping, Alexios trampled her foot and she winced. Before he could apologize, she was laughing. Already used to it from dances done before. For a skilled fighter, Alexios couldn’t dance. Finally spinning her so she was pressed against him, Alexios rested his chin on her shoulder. The bristles tickling her, she hummed, “Should have let you sleep in.”

Unwinding her, Alexios bore down with eyes filled with promise. “Just have to finish what I’ve started. Two weeks, four at most, and then everything will be finished.”

“And what will you do then? Milk the goats?” She’d been teasing, but her voice hitched. What were two warriors to do after the fight?

Alexios nodded his head. The thought of owning a piece of land had crossed his mind, but he honestly didn’t know. “As long as you’re there, I don’t care what we’re doing.”

The excitement she shone was hard to conceal, and he found himself admiring how adorable she was. “Really?”

“I give you my word.” Alexios vowed and kissed her once more.

“Two weeks,” she repeated, more to herself that him. “Four at the most.”

“Then my attention will be all yours.” Alexios smirked, and eyed the bed. As if reading his thoughts, she fell backwards, bringing him along with her until the sounds of laughing and giggling turned into kissing and loving.

How long it had been, Alexios hadn’t a clue. All he was aware of was that Hades’s constant meddling had become an annoyance. And now the god owed him. “Hades, you gave your word!” Alexios growled, his fingers already twitching for his blade. There was no doubt killing the god was impossible, but the thought of hurting him pleased Alexios.

“That I did, but I’m going to be honest with you. You annoy me. So, yes, I will complete you favor. I’ll ensure no harm come to you precious woman and you have a long life together.” Alexios couldn’t relax. He could feel the other shoe about to drop. “But I can’t let your interference go unanswered, so I have a special surprise for you .”

“Leave her out of this!”

“It was you who brought her into this, so you’ve only yourself to blame.” Hades was enjoying himself now. “Long will her life be, and with yours, true, but good luck keeping it that way.”

“Hades!” Alexios charged, but was thrown backwards.

Hades’s laugh echoed around him. “As you’ll learn with immortality, it’ll drive some people mad.”

The dream echoed in his memory, and the Staff beside him told him it was real. He was home. It was done.

Eve!

Rolling up to his knees, Alexios found himself a mile from the nearest town, and from there found he was not even on the same landmass he’d left.

How the hell did he end up back on Kephallonia?!

It took time, more than he’d wanted to think about. The tears would run down his face and fire would burn into a dull ache in his belly when he did. Finally home, he felt energy return to his tired limbs. The town had grown, and there were very few people he’d remembered. Arriving at home, their home, Alexios froze. The grass was replaced with a vegetable garden, a field of wheat shone like gold under the sun, and a few children ran in the yard.

Knees buckling, Alexios leaned against the fence and watched them play. A couple of goats strode lazily by. Finally, one of the boys fixed him with an annoyed look before calling out, “Mater! There’s a vistor!”

“Aryan, what have I told you about-” The door opened and a woman strode out. She placed a basket on her hip and continued to lecture the boy until those eyes landed on him and the basket dropped, spilling freshly washed clothes on the ground.

“Mater!” The boy said, frightened now, and Alexios fell against the post for support. He’d knew he’d been gone long, but how long? Her hair was longer now and fell to her shoulder, she’d cut it, and her eyes were older, more mature. She looked the same, and yet...

“Aryan?” Another voice sounded, and a second woman’s head popped out of the door. Eve was still staring at him. The woman looked between them and pushed the boy behind her. The two other kids had forgotten their game and were retreating now. “Hello, stranger. Can we help you?”

Alexios worked the words out of his mouth like he was chewing them. “I-I didn’t mean to interupt, I just...”

But she was walking towards him, cutting his words off. “Alexios?” Staring at him like a ghost stood before him. Whispering the words as to not spook the vision.

“This is Alexios?” The woman behind her said, but he couldn’t hear her.

“Eve?” She’d stopped a few feet away, but at the sound of his quivering voice, she ran the rest of the distance. Alexios took her into his arms, crying openly. They both were. He repeated her name like a prayer as the sound of her, her touch, her smell, brought back memories and he was home.

“You’re alive!” She sobbed into his chest, alternating between hitting his chest and sobbing. He was supporting her whole weight now and she pulled back to stare at him. There was love still in those eyes. “You’re alive! After all these years, you’re alive!”

That’s how Alexios found out he’d been gone for four years.

[thedistantstorm]

Day 25: “I could really eat something.”

Fandom: Destiny

Pairing: None. Zavala & Eva

Warnings: Grieving, Loss, Friendship

Notes: This is my favorite of all the fictober works I’ll post this year. I’ve been meaning to write something about this for about a year now.

-/

Eva Levante’s footfalls are slower now. Less sure. Reliant on her cane, she traverses the unfamiliar territory slowly, with great care. This new Tower does not have the same grandeur, the same legacy of its predecessor, put together quickly to accommodate a transition back from the wilds and abroad.

As she passes, people are still making improvements and reinforcements. Many frames are cleaning up rubble and dust that never would have been present at the old Tower and areas are being moved into, with much of the dedicated space still sparse and lacking decoration. It’s not home yet, she thinks, but they are all making due. Not unlike the Farm, there is a very tender sort of hope planted in this place, fostered by everyone doing their best to move on and come together.

She has to think about which direction to go in, because she doesn’t have her footing in this labyrinth. Things are more stacked up, the spaces in this new area more compact. Eventually, she is certain they will work to make it sprawl out, to beautify and really breathe life into this space. But those things take time. It’s barely been a year since the War ended.

The door she seeks looks like it was probably moved from a different place - it does not match the very utilitarian walls around it. It’s white instead of the graphite of the walls, polished and adorned with the golden sigil of the Guardians. She is certain that the occupant of this office did not ask for such a gesture, but she knows without fail that countless others would push for it in his stead. 

It is hardly cracked open, just a sliver of light pooling into the dim, shady hallway. She peeks in, sees him there, and her heart swells with emotion. Amanda and Tess had told her what had happened, about all the political tripmines and the great grief that gripped the Tower and its inhabitants, striking fear and uncertainty into all of them, Guardian and non-Guardian alike.

He looks tired, she thinks sadly. Encumbered.

The desire she has to help him is - has always been - overwhelmingly fierce. She thought about what she would say the entire way up here, how she would greet him after all this time, but when she pushes the door open and raps her weathered knuckles against the faux marble plating on the door she doesn’t have a single word of it in her mind.

Zavala does not look up. “Amanda, I know you-”

Her cane thumps against the tiled floor with the same cadence as his speech as she bids herself entry regardless of his wishes. She had asked Amanda to make something up, to ensure he’d have the time blocked out. The Shipwright had done as Eva asked, even though she’d warned her that it wouldn’t stop him from making excuses. He was… difficult to approach, these days.

“-wanted me to meet you tonight, however I am-”

Eva isn’t sure if he looks up because of her cane making a different sound than normal footsteps would, or if perhaps it’s because she has not interrupted him already like Amanda surely would have. Maybe she’s just moved so quickly across the tiny space in haste that her silhouette eclipsing his desk gave him pause. But she sees the realization strike him harder than a Fist of Havoc ever could. He stares at her, whatever excuse he could have made leaving him in a whoosh of air that’s far too dignified to be a gasp, and yet so perfectly Zavala. 

“You,” He breathes in disbelief, swallowing hard. “You’re here.” Oh, how she has missed him, she thinks as she opens her arms to him in an offering gesture and smiles as if to say, me.

“Hello, my friend.”

Her cane clatters to the floor when he embraces her, the hasty action of an old woman who cannot stop herself from looping her arms around his neck. But she is not the only hasty one. He hugs her tight, ever mindful of his strength, trembling. When he draws back to look at her with those brilliant eyes of his, she tuts, bringing a hand up to the back of his head and pulling him in once more.

“I have missed you,” She breathes softly in his ear and she knows he hears: he hugs her just the slightest bit harder.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, after a moment. Eva suspects it would have come out sooner, but the words are thick in his mouth. He’s always hidden it well, but he is a treasure trove of emotion, feeling so much and so deeply, too.

She wipes the tears that have gathered in the corner of her eyes away with shaking hands and looks him in the eye. “I suspect you don’t really need another shader vendor,” She begins, the faintest touch of humor in her voice. “This is a personal visit.”

Zavala looks to her as if she could be the hundredth shader vendor in the Tower and she’d be given lease on the spot if he had a say in the matter. “I’m sure Tess is thrilled to see you,” He begins, quieter. “Amanda, too.”

“Yes,” She agrees. “But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you, either. Especially after we just missed each other at the Farm,” Eva pats his arms as he steps back, dipping gracefully to retrieve her discarded cane. He evaluates her with serious scrutiny and she raps his shin-guard with her cane, dipping her head lest she laugh outright at what must be a look of great surprise on his features. Being his friend means taking liberties others wouldn’t ever dream to. Instead of voicing this, she settles on an, “I am fine, Zavala. The wounds have long since healed.”

He retrieves her a chair quickly, anyway, dragging his from around his desk, giving her an exaggerated quirk of one eyebrow over how heavily she leans on her cane. “You’re sure?” He asks, hoarsely.

“Yes,” She says, sounding just shy of annoyed. He waits for her to sit before he does. “I am far more worried about you,” Eva continues. “Things have not been-”

“I am making due,” He interrupts.

“Bull,” She bites back, stern. The wide-eyed look of surprise from him would earn him a laugh, but this is no laughing matter. “Tell me the truth,” Eva asks of him.

The answer takes time, comes out in a soft rumble. “I don’t know.”

Once corner of her lips comes up in a sad smile. Her hand presses over his, on the armrest of his chair. “It’s okay not to, you know. These things take time.”

“I cannot-” He breaks off and does not continue, so Eva does in his stead.

“You are not alone, my friend. Not in your grief, and not in your duty. It’s okay to lean on others, sometimes.” She tips her head to the side. “There are new faces in our midst who seem well-equipped to assist, don’t you think?” He swallows and she reads the tell, laying her cane back down beside her. “And Sloane,” Eva reminds him. “She’s always had your back. She would not want you collapsing under the weight of this all alone.”

“I know,” Zavala admits, those earnest blue eyes staring deeply into hers.

Eva’s voice is gentle. “And the rest of us would do anything for you, you know that. It’s okay to grieve him.”

He sighs, heavy under the strain. “You didn’t like him.”

“My sadness is rarely for the departed,” Her lip curls slightly. Her opinion of the deceased Hunter Vanguard does not matter. It never did. “These days, I mourn for those who remain.” Her hand squeezes his before she lets go. Her eyes take on a look then that reminds Zavala for all his centuries of life, for all the wisdom he’s gained, he will never be a match for Eva Levante. “And I find that talking to someone,” She says, firm and gentle all at once, concern radiating from her in waves, “It really helps.”

Any fight - any pretenses of holding up this charade of having it all together, for her sake or his - leaves him. “I don’t think I’ve eaten today,” He admits after another moment, almost bashful. “Would you-”

She shakes her head, the mothering rebuke left unsaid. She can chastise him later. “I could really eat something,” She indulges him, after pretending to mull it over innocently enough. "And then perhaps tea, assuming you still keep some hidden away in your office?"

Zavala's answer is both relieved and immediate. “I think that can be arranged,” He says, rising to offer her an arm.

Eva takes it, letting him pull her up, and leaves her cane where it lies. He’ll feel better if they’re leaning on each other and that suits Eva just fine.

[ohjess]

if i close my eyes

Kim Minji is a high school girl in rural South Korea who dreams of life in the city and becoming a pastry chef. Kim Bora is an idol trainee in Seoul who is troubled by bouts of loneliness and a mysterious recurring dream. One day, Minji and Bora wake up in each other's bodies. As they struggle to navigate each other's lives and deal with their own nightmares, the two girls form an unlikely friendship that could just possibly change their fate.

[A JiBo AU based on Kimi No Na Wa/Your Name]

Read the first chapter on AO3 or read below

“Once in a while when I wake up, I find myself crying. The dream I must have had I can never recall. But the sensation that I’ve lost something lingers for a long time after I wake up. I’m always searching for something, for someone. This feeling has possessed me I think from that day when the stars came falling. It was almost as if a scene from a dream. Nothing more, nothing less than a beautiful view.”

Gangnam District, Seoul June 1

‘Krrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiing~’

As the bell signals the end of the school day, Bora is the first out of the classroom, sprinting down the hallway with her backpack bouncing behind her and a pencil still holding her bright purple hair in a messy bun.

Here at Kirin High School, Kim Bora is just a regular student: attends classes, hangs out with friends during free period, drives her teachers crazy with her deadly mix of sarcasm and boundless energy, makes a reasonable amount of effort to study, just enough to land a place in the honors class every year. But once those bells ring, once school is officially over, Bora takes on another identity as a trainee at Dream Catcher Entertainment.

She scurries down the school’s exit ramp and breaks into a wide smile as she easily spots her ride.

“Good afternoon, Miss Kim! How was school?” The driver asks Bora as she settles into the backseat beside another girl, who’s also smiling at her.

“It was fine, Mr. Choi, thanks for asking, and how many times do I have to ask you to stop calling me Miss? I’m not rich like Princess Handong over here,” Bora quips, making her two companions laugh.

The other girl, Handong, heaves an exaggerated sigh as Bora straps on her seatbelt. “You’re right. Maybe I should be a Princess instead. I bet princesses don’t need to go through dance training.”

“Aw, come on, Handong it’s not that bad! You know you enjoy it.”

“I do enjoy dancing, but not until one in the morning, thank you very much,” Handong replies with a pout.

Bora doesn’t say anything and simply pats her friend’s hand in consolation. Being an idol trainee is hard, but she knows that both of them still feel lucky for even having the chance to debut in a few years’ time. As Bora idly watches the cityscape outside the car window, her mind drifts to her usual worries: Math homework, the family she hasn't seen in weeks, the trainees’ monthly evaluation, her mysterious recurring dream. As she thinks of the dream she had last night – colorful beams of light, the smell of pumpkin pie, a girl with short black hair and sad eyes, a lingering feeling of yearning – she finds herself shedding a tear again. She wipes it away and snaps herself back to reality. She pulls the pencil from her bun and put her hair up on a proper ponytail. She has hours of vocal and dance training ahead of her and she needs all the concentration she can muster. Her weird dreams can wait.

Haenam County, South Jeolla Province June 1

Thirty two steps north. Turn left. Twenty seven steps forward. Another left. Continue straight for about fifteen minutes until you reach the corner store.

Minji doesn’t even have to look up from her book to get home safely. There are barely any cars here that she can walk on the main road instead of the sidewalk (which is mostly used by bikes) and she has been taking the same exact route for almost 10 years that she can do it without looking. Besides, the book she’s reading is far more interesting than the long stretch of identical trees lining her path.

Minji loves her hometown, that’s for sure. She loves her school, her best friends Siyeon and Yoohyeon, her sister Gahyeon, her grandma, the bakery. She loves the shade of the trees. She loves the town’s annual celebration of Chilseok – that quiet, subtle transition from hot summer to monsoon season, the sweet scent of melons and pumpkin and rain wafting in the air. Most of all, she loves looking up at the clear night sky dotted with stars, like a huge canvas embroidered with a million little cherry blossoms, like a heavy blanket folding over her as she drifts off to sleep.

But Minji has dreams, too. She dreams of the city, of skyscrapers instead of trees looming over her head, of train rides and coffee shops and music shows and the taste of vanilla macaron on her tongue.

Her mind is still busy imagining what a city train would sound like when she is startled by two warm hands covering her eyes behind her glasses.

“Guess who?!” The voice behind her practically screams directly into her ear.

Minji drops her book in surprise and tries to pry the intruder’s hands from her face. “Ya! Kim Yoohyeon! Take your hands off of me or I’ll give Siyeon all the melon bread!”

Yoohyeon immediately releases her hold and when Minji turns around, the younger girl is already pouting guiltily. “It was just a joke, you didn’t need to threaten me like that,” Yoohyeon says under her breath.

“Well you didn’t need to startle me like that!”

Siyeon interrupted the two girls by darting towards the direction of Minji’s family bakery and dragging them behind her. “Aw come on, you guys, stop fighting. Grandma’s already waiting for us. Hurry up.”

“Grandma? Psh, you guys act like you’re the grand daughters,” Minji complains, but her laughter says that she already feels a million times better.

As Minji spends the warm summer afternoon with her two best friends eating mounds of leftover bread in her Grandma’s bakery (and teasing the hell out of Gahyeon), thoughts of the city begin to dissipate. But that night as she lies down on her rooftop watching the stars, she feels a tear roll down her cheek and an inexplicable nostalgia for something she can’t quite place. She closes her eyes and a vision of stars falling from the sky flashes before her: tiny pieces of the universe, flecks of white and pink and silver in a luminous cosmic rain. And then she’s asleep.

More than three hundred kilometers away in the heart of Seoul, a girl named Kim Bora passes out on her bunk bed still wearing her training clothes, dreaming of the same streaks of silver and purple and pink, not knowing that her life is about to change.

When Bora wakes up, her first thought is that she’s going blind. She opens her eyes and all she sees is a blur of colors and vague figures, and no matter how many times she closes them and opens them again, or tries to rub the sleep off, she still can’t make out anything. Starting to panic, Bora flails her arms around and her hand accidentally lands on what feels like a pair of glasses on her bedstand. She doesn’t remember ever having glasses but she puts them on instinctively and her vision immediately clears.

Finally fully awake and with functioning vision, Bora’s second thought upon waking up is, what the fuck?  She is clearly on another person’s bed, in another person’s bedroom, and everything around her looks unfamiliar. Even her own body feels unfamiliar. She finally realizes that something is wrong when her feet instantly hit the floor after she flings her legs off of the bed, when she usually needs to jump from the mattress. Bora stands on her (suddenly long?) legs and walks to the dresser, where she lets out a piercing scream.

In the dresser mirror, the image of a girl with jet black hair, feathered bangs, thin lips, and a pair of surprised eyes beneath her specs – a girl Bora has never seen before – screams back at her.

[hnrywinchester]

Fare Thee Well - - Chapter 12

Summary: She hasn’t seen Gabriel since he died nine years ago, then a phone call changes everything.

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC

Series Warnings: ANGST, smut, swearing, character deaths, PTSD Gabriel, Canon Compliant

Beta’d by: @aquietuniverse

Words: 4.7k

Gabriel woke an hour later, cradled gently in the arms of the one thing he’d ever loved. He was finally here. After years of fighting to survive, scratching, clawing and searching for a way out, he was home. Her arm was wrapped around his neck and his face was still buried in her hair, the gentle scent of coconut coaxing a serene sense of nostalgia through him. The slow, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest a telltale sign she was deep in a comfortable sleep and as much as he didn’t want to move, he knew he had to. Slowly, he wriggled free of her grip, making sure to pull the blanket up and around her as he moved. She didn’t even budge and a self-satisfied smirk fell onto his face.

He emerged from the room, quietly clicking the door closed behind him, and headed towards the common area where at least the brothers would be waiting. He knew Dean was eager to leave, to get started on the journey to Apocalypse Land, but they still needed his grace. The thought of having to extract what little he had left in him sent a panic straight to his chest. He couldn’t do it, not himself, not alone. There was only one person he trusted to have any part in that, and she was passed out in that room down the hall.

“Where’s Liv?” Dean asked as Gabriel entered the library, his bag already packed and waiting at his feet.

“Sleeping,” Gabriel responded nonchalantly.

“Sleeping? It’s noon. What’d you do, screw her into a coma?”

“Uh… isn’t that the goal? It concerns me that this occurrence seems foreign to you.”

Sam’s eyebrows raised as he choked back a laugh. He’d never admit it, but having Gabriel around was sort of entertaining. He certainly gave Dean a run for his money, he thought, as he watched as his brother’s expression changed from shocked, to confused, to angry then ending on a little embarrassed. Gabriel’s, on the other hand, stayed in smug amusement, his head tilted to one side as he smirked.

“You’ll get there, kid. Keep practicing. Remember, it’s not the size of the boat, it’s the motion of the ocean. But it doesn’t hurt to have both,” Gabriel taunted, tucking his lips into his mouth in pity as he gave Dean a pat on the back on his way past.

As Gabriel found a seat at the end of the table, he couldn’t help but notice the intuitive and intrigued little grin set upon the tiny red-headed witch’s lips two seats down. He felt her eyes burning into him and his eyes darted around in confusion mixed with a little bit of guilt.

“We need your grace,” Dean informed the angel, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gabriel’s stomach dropped. He knew he wasn’t ready, he didn’t think he ever would be. For a thousand years he’d played celestial juice box to Colonel Sanders and the thought of that needle piercing his neck again was nightmare inducing. He tried to shove those memories away as they fought to break loose of the confines he had sloppily locked them away in, trying to replace them with the sound of her voice and the touch of her fingers. Sam noticed the sudden change in Gabriel’s demeanor, but if Dean had, he wasn’t acknowledging it. He tossed the large metal syringe down in front of the angel carelessly, and it only angered Gabriel further.

“I need her,” Gabriel confessed, rising to his feet in any attempt to get as far away from that device as he could.

“So go wake her ass up and get it done,” Dean demanded.

“No.”

The angel kept his voice and gaze hard as he stared at the man no more than twelve inches away from him. He was quickly tiring of this charade and every piece of him wanted to take Liv and walk out that door to leave them to figure this out on their own. All he’d ever done was give to them without ever receiving a damn thing in return. He knew he had to try and get along with them, but all he could think about at the moment was a thousand new ways to off Dean in another Groundhog Day loop.

“I don’t know where you got this asinine idea that you can order me around like I’m one of your little soldiers, Dean, but I recommend re-evaluating it. We do this when I say so. Understood?” Gabriel’s voice was almost sinister as he spoke, stepping threateningly closer to the eldest Winchester as he stared.

Dean’s face hardened, but the slightest hint of fear crossed over his features. Even powered down, Dean knew he was no match for the archangel; he had no choice but to surrender. Gabriel knew Liv probably hadn’t gotten any form of quality sleep since the last time she’d been in bed with him, and if she needed an hour or two she was going to get it. Plus, there was one thing he had to do before they set off.

Dean watched with fury burning behind his eyes as Gabriel grabbed the syringe from the table before he walked up the steps and out of the bunker. Why they had gotten stuck with the most unreliable being to ever walk the Earth as their only hope was beyond him. While deep down he was happy the unlikely couple had made amends, it was now only hindering his mission further.

Gabriel returned an hour later empty-handed and Dean wondered where the hell he’d ran off to and why. The angel didn’t even share a passing glance to the four occupants of the library as he headed back down the hall to the bedrooms. He knew it was time, this had to be done. The longer he delayed doing it, the farther away the end was, and he needed this to be over for many reasons. The main one being right behind the old wooden door in front of him.

It creaked quietly as he pushed it open. She was still there, exactly in the same position he’d left her in. Her bare shoulders peeked out from underneath the quilt he’d covered her with, tempting him back to the bed and distracting him from what was to come, even if only for a moment. Gently, he curled himself back behind her, the warmth of her body comforting as his arm draped around her middle. She didn’t flinch and he stilled, taking in a moment he’d been so desperate for for so long.

His lips drifted to her shoulders, dragging slowly as he kissed her exposed skin, each one moving higher and higher over her neck and jaw until he’d reached her cheek. He saw the corner of her mouth tick up into a sleepy, lopsided smile as he roused her gently, his lips mirroring hers as he continued his ministrations. The little wrinkles besides her eyes creased her skin as her smile grew and he kissed them softly, appreciating the new feature that had appeared in his absence. He was here after all this time to love the new parts of her just as much as the old, and he couldn’t wait to discover them all.

“Hmm,” she hummed, leaning back against him slightly, “I missed waking up like this.”

“Oh yeah? Get used to it, you got a few more decades of it at least,” he threatened, pulling his arm against her to roll her onto her back.

Before he could react she pushed herself up and pressed her lips to his in a firm, yet simple kiss. Her hand wound into his hair as she deepened it, somehow she knew this was it. There wasn’t a sinking feeling or nerves, he could walk out that door right now and this time she knew he would be walking back through. As his hand slid from her ribs down to her hip it wasn’t desperate or pleading, instead his fingertips were soft and gentle, ghosting over her skin like an old friend. Like he’d done it a thousand times and would do it a thousand more. Their lips moved in perfect synchronization, everything about being with him at this moment was effortless and easy.

“I need you to do something for me,” he whispered, his voice changed, as he brushed her hair from her face.

It was time to go. Their small window was up and it was time to get back to work. She kicked herself for wasting a night, for not grabbing him and kissing him as soon as he’d stabbed that cocky prick Loki right through the stomach. What had just begun was already ending, those twelve hours she could have been here wrapped in his arms were gone.

As his eyes snapped shut, she pushed her forehead against his; she knew what was coming. They needed grace, and there was only one way to get it. Her arms wound around his neck and she guided his head into the crook of her neck, silently consoling him. This would be different. His hair was soft beneath her fingers as they drifted to his curls, scratching softly in the way she knew he loved. She was certain this was going to be hard, the memories that might resurface would linger and haunt him, but she’d be there this time. He was no longer alone.

When he pulled away she kept her arms around him until she’d been drug up into a sitting position, locking him into the safety of her embrace for every second she possibly could. The syringe was in his pocket; without ever putting his eyes on it he passed it over to her and she watched as his shoulders slumped forward. Her heart hurt as she saw the transformation before her eyes, she knew she needed to act quick to pull him free.

Quickly, she located her discarded clothes, throwing them on before running to him and grabbing his hands.

“Look at me,” she instructed, “Gabe, look at me.”

Her fingers squeezed his as she waited for him to respond. While she knew she couldn’t be forceful, she had to get him out. Finally, his eyes rose to meet hers and she smiled, she knew Asmodeus had used her form to taunt him so she wasn’t sure if any of her efforts would even be beneficial, but she had to try. Slowly, she led him to the bed, pushing him down by his shoulders to sit on the edge as she nestled herself between his knees. She was taller than him here, his head level with her chest and chin upturned as he kept his eyes on her.

Instincts guided her motions as she leaned down and kissed him. Her lips remained still, just lingering as she captured his upper lip between her own, waiting for his response. It took him a moment, but as he took in the sensations around him, he felt his chest settle. This wasn’t like before. She smelled the same, her touch was soft and familiar, not a cheap carbon copy and the steady beat of her heart sang out as she hovered above him. He molded his lips to hers, accepting every thing she offered in any attempt to calm himself down. Spurred on by his returned affection, she pecked a few more soft fleeting kisses to his mouth before pulling away.

“I love you,” she assured him, “are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he grumbled in response, wrapping his arm around her waist.

When the needle pierced his neck, his grip along her middle tightened as he tried to tether himself to her and her alone. His eyes snapped shut, the darkness behind them welcoming the nightmares as they broke free from the shoddy walls holding them back. Asmodeus’ voice began echoing inside his head. The room grew colder. The soft surface he’d been seated on turned to stone as the horrors came to life. It’d been a ruse, he knew it had… he’d been down there all along.

“Hey, eyes on me,” he heard a familiar, delicate voice call out, it sounded like it was underwater, “Gabe, open your eyes baby.”

Her own anxiety began to rise as she watched him. His face was twitching, his breath coming out in erratic pants through his nose and she had no idea how to free him. She knew she couldn’t remove the needle, she couldn’t do this again, but she also couldn’t continue with him in this state.

“Gabriel!” she called out again, bringing her free hand to his cheek, caressing the ridge with her thumb, “come back to me, come on. Get outta there.”

Immediately, his eyes shot open, locking onto her concern-stricken face. It was her, really her. He was in the bunker still, in the bed he’d shared with her just that morning. He felt his muscles relax, hers following suit and he let his head fall to her chest in front of him, the tug of the needle on his neck stung as he moved.

“You’re okay,” she cooed, sliding the hand from his cheek to the back of his head, cradling him against her, “right?”

“Yeah,” he answered quietly, “just do it.”

Her thumb was frozen in the plunger, her focus solely on him. His breathing had regulated, she could feel him exhaling against her collarbone, and his shoulders had released from their contracted position. When she was certain he was fine, she began to pull her finger back, his swirling, silver grace slowly seeping into the glass vial. While she knew this was no easy feat for him, she couldn’t help the swell in her chest as she shared in this extremely intimate moment with him. Just when she thought they’d done it all, here he was clinging to her as she extracted the very thing that defined him from the body that Loki had designed for him. She knew it should maybe scare her, intimidate her, that the thing she loved was actually that shining vapor her thumb was pulling at, but she knew he was so much more.

“Stop,” he snapped, his hand darting to the wrist of her right arm.

“I don’t think this is enough,” she guessed, seeing that not even a quarter of the small vial was filled.

“It’s gonna have to be. It’s more potent than it looks.”

Nodding, she pulled the needle from his neck and threw it down onto the nightstand behind her. When she turned her attention back to him, the tiny bead of blood forming from his puncture took her by surprise. She’d never known him to bleed outside of the past few days; she still hadn’t gotten used to it. Quickly, she pressed her thumb against the spot, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. While she fretted, he pulled her face to his, kissing her with a renewed gusto. When his tongue lapped against her lips she responded equally as eager, happy he seemingly was free from his traumatic memories.

“You know I need you, right?” he premised, his voice heavy with adoration.

“Yeah, I do,” she responded confidently, “You’re a mess.”

“Mhmm. I don’t know why you stick around.”

“Maybe because I’m a mess too. And together we make one hell of a dumpster fire.”

“You make it sound so romantic.”

They both laughed, her arms coming to wrap around his neck as he pulled her into his lap, her knees coming to rest on either side of him.

“Romance is one of my strong suits,” she continued, pecking his lips after she’d finished speaking.

“Oh is it? I love you and all, but whoever told you that has a nose that’s a few inches longer now,” Gabriel teased in response.

“What?!”

“Liv, you are the least romantic being I have ever come across. Now I’m not saying that’s a downfall, but it is a fact.”

“Oh you just wait Casanova, I’ll show you romantic. I’ll have you puking into a vase of roses before you know it.”

“Point proven.”

As much as she didn’t want to admit he was right, there really was no denying it. She tilted her head in defeated agreement as he eyed her smugly, she’d been in one relationship her entire life and it was sitting in front of her currently. He breathed another laugh through his nose before planting one final kiss on her lips, wishing it could be more.

“Come on, Dean’s got his panties all in a bunch out there and I’m over it. Time to finish this nonsense,” Gabriel revealed, lifting her off the bed with him as he stood, “Are you all packed up?”

“Pretty much, I just need a blade,” she replied as her feet hit the floor.

“I’m sure Tweedle-Dum has a spare you can borrow.”

“Who’s Tweedle-Dum?”

“Any of them, all of them.”

The pair walked from the room, Gabriel always one step behind her as they made their way down the hall and back to the group not so patiently waiting on them. Her stomach was in knots as she replayed the information Sam had given her about the world they were about to travel to, and the risks. She had to admit she felt a little off her game ever since Gabriel had returned, she didn’t want this life anymore and it was showing.

“Here it is! The final ingredient, a fresh serving of archangel grace,” Gabriel announced as they entered the library.

Gabriel popped the vial onto the table with a flourish, the other occupants of the room all looking at it skeptically. Liv knew they were thinking exactly what she had, that it wasn’t enough, but she hoped and prayed it was. She wasn’t pulling any more from him ever again.

“This is what you call a serving?” Rowena questioned, lifting the bottle and squinting at the contents.

“That is the jet fuel of divine emissions, it’ll be more than enough to get the job done.”

Dean scoffed at Gabriel’s terminology, earning him a laugh from Liv as Rowena began to perform the spell. The five travelers prepped for their journey, each fiddling with something in their hands as they waited for the rift to open. Gabriel shared a glance with Liv, his eyes nervous as he began to think of all the things that could happen to her over there, things he may not be able to control. It was too late to try and convince her to stay, not that she would anyway, but he’d already seen her on her deathbed once. It wasn’t anything he planned on seeing again.

“Koth Munto Nuntox,” Rowena chanted, throwing her hands up towards the back of the room.

A waving, orange rip of light tore through the air, shocking Liv slightly. She’d seen a lot of things in her days, but nothing like this. On the other side of that little static line was a whole other universe, a land much worse off than here. It’s appearance was certainly deceiving. Gabriel noticed her unease, even if it was slight, and his hand came to rest between her shoulder blades reassuringly.

“Stay with me,” he whispered to her, and she nodded in response.

“Okay, everyone ready?” Castiel asked, his eyes scanning the group.

“Yeah, all right,” Sam responded.

“Let’s do this,” Dean added immediately after his brother.

As they took a step towards the rift, it began to fritz like a lightbulb burning out before wilting to the side and crackling out of existence, leaving the room in the same state it had been seconds before.

“Okay…” Dean muttered, confused.

“Well, that was… fast,” Castiel commented next.

“Very, very fast,” Sam added.

“I told you we needed more,” Liv mumbled to Gabriel, trying to hide her words from the rest of the group.

“One could even say premature,” Rowena tacked on, just adding insult to injury.

“Um… I thought it would be enough,” Gabriel confessed, his shame very evident in his voice.

“All right, great. What do we do now?” Sam asked, his frustration growing.

“Hell if I know,” Dean answered, equally as irritated.

“You do know. We all do,” Castiel concluded, earning a frightened glance from the witch, “We need archangel grace. Gabriel’s obviously running a little low, and we don’t know how long it’ll take him to recover. So that leaves exactly one source on Earth.”

“No,” Sam snapped, fear falling over his features.

“I don’t like it either but there’s no other way. We need Lucifer.”

Gabriel hung his head at the revelation. As if it wasn’t bad enough they were being dragged into Apoco-Land with the three Amigos, now Lucifer was getting involved. This was getting worse and worse by the second. While he was almost happy this hadn’t panned out, leaving him a few more hours of what he hoped would be peace with Liv, it wasn’t turning out to be as simple as he’d thought it would be when we agreed to help. As the three left the room to formulate their plan, he was left wondering what was coming next.

“I thought it was fine…” he mumbled to her, his eyes averting embarrassingly.

“I know. We’ll figure it out,” she assured him, linking her fingers through his, “and if we don’t, doesn’t really affect us now does it?”

She shrugged her shoulders as she smirked up at him and he responded with a smile. She was technically right, they could walk away right now if they wanted to. Gabriel was useless to them now without enough grace to spare to open that rift. He knew she never would, unless it was deemed impossible, but it did give him something to hope for.

As it was every time he was in this close of a proximity to her, it was impossible not to lean down and kiss her. She was a constant refuge, a stronghold, when he needed her she never failed him. He’d always been confused as to why his brothers thought the humans so weak. She was far stronger than any celestial being he’d ever known, never running from any challenge that stood in her way. In the face of betrayal she forgave, in her heartache she soldiered on and when his world was crumbling around him, she’d stood by him to help him pick up the pieces, selfless and willing to sacrifice no matter the cost.

They weren’t sure of how much time had passed, wound around the each other as they poured their affections unhindered into the other. Her hand came up to the collar of his shirt, pulling at the fabric to graze her fingertips over his skin, and it was then he remembered they were not alone in the room. Easing back slowly, he pulled away, clearing his throat as he locked eyes with the red-haired witch still seated at the long table.

“Well don’t stop on my account,” she purred, “I love a good romance. Do let me know if you ever need a third…”

Gabriel’s face lifted in curiosity and consideration as Rowena batted her perfectly embellished eyes at the duo, the look alone filling his mind with a fantasy he just couldn’t push away. Liv noticed immediately, lazily smacking the back of her hand against his chest, silently scolding him and jostling the images from his mind as he snapped back to reality. As he tried to apologize to her with his eyes, neither of them noticed that Rowena had risen from her seat and was sauntering towards them, her gaze floating up and down the angel as she stopped in front of him.

“Size of the boat indeed,” she hummed in appreciation as she stopped at his midsection.

Gabriel quickly grabbed the first thing he could find, a very old, tattered book off the shelf to his right, and covered the bulge that had formed in his jeans. He couldn’t remember when that had popped up, but he was telling himself it was certainly when he’d been hot and heavy with Liv before the rude interruption. When he glanced over at her, her eyes were rolled so far back into her head he could barely see her pupils. He was in trouble and he knew it.

“You lucky girl,” Rowena praised as her attention turned to Liv, tapping her finger lightly on her nose in congratulations.

“I don’t even wanna know…” Dean groaned as he took in the sight before him, Gabriel covering his groin with a book as Rowena seductively eyed a very flustered looking Liv, “Sam has a plan.”

“Uh… okay,” Gabriel stammered, shifting uncomfortably, turning his body more towards Liv to hide from prying eyes.

“So… we find Lucifer, Rowena we assume you can do that for us?” Sam began, “Bind him with the cuffs and Gabriel, we’re hoping you have a way to get some grace from him. We have the archangel blade, so, whatever you need to get it done.”

“Uh, that’s it?” Gabriel scoffed, his voice filled with concern, “You’re just gonna waltz on up to Lucifer, throw some magic cuffs on him and call it a day?”

“We’ll figure out the minor details on the way,” Dean added, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No. We’ll figure out the major details now. I like being alive! I’m not marching up to my volatile brother and throwing a match on him… again. Didn’t work so well the first time, not gonna work this time either.”

“Well he isn’t at full strength,” Sam cut in, trying to defend their only idea.

“Yeah? Neither am I, so that’s a moot point.”

“All right, what’s your plan then?”

Gabriel’s face had hardened, his lips pressed into a tight line as his nostrils flared. These idiots were going to get everyone killed. His gaze fell to the woman at his side, her eyes looking to him for answers, answers he wasn’t sure he had. His mind ran through all their playing cards: a witch, a wayward angel, a busted archangel, and three hunters. All in all it wasn’t a bad team, it was just a matter of using them all properly, and safely.

“You, Red,” he began, pointing his finger at Rowena, “I know there’s something out there we can give him to knock his ass out long enough to get him here. Can you find it and can you make it?”

“I know just the thing,” she beamed, her charming yet wicked smile lighting up her face.

“By tomorrow, I should have enough to do a little shapeshifting, I think… Knowing my brother, he’ll be wallowing his troubles away somewhere seedy, let’s hope it’s a bar. I go in, play a little bartender, work a little magic, sneak some of Red’s magic potion into the drink and bam, Luci will be locked down to get what we need from him.”

“Wait…” Liv cut in, “can’t we use him somehow? To keep that door open longer than twenty four hours? We obviously now know that the amount of archangel grace has a direct effect on the life of the rift, what if we kept adding to it…”

“Like grace on tap?”

“Exactly. Keep the spell active, the door open and drain his ass all at the same time.”

“That’s… actually a great idea,” Sam commended, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Great. When do we leave? How long ‘til you can find him Rowena?” Dean jabbered, confident and ready to put the plan into action.

“A few hours, tops,” Rowena replied, “I still have enough leftover ingredients from finding Gabriel, should be no problem.”

“Tomorrow,” Gabriel concluded, “first thing. Tonight, I say we kick back, drink, eat, have a little fun. You all need to lighten up a little and I want some time with this one before we head off on another life threatening adventure. Deal?”

The brother shared a look, silently deciding that it wasn’t worth a fight, “Yeah, deal,” they answered in unison. A few more hours wouldn’t hurt.

TAGS: @idabbleincrazy @nodistressdamsel @analisespn

[softpeetabread]

University Life Part 7

This is +7k words long!! I’ve received a lot of feedback for the first few parts and I’m glad that you all are enjoying this seemingly out of control story. Thank you to everyone that has supported this, whether it’s by liking or reblogging. I hope that you all enjoy this new bit!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

**

The blurred image of rushing trees outside the window had entertained Katniss for a couple of minutes before she felt woozy. She thought she’d been used to watching trees and other types of greenery pass by as she and Peeta drove to school, but this new speed the train brought proved her wrong. She and Peeta were headed to the Capitol for their interview with Caesar Flickerman and she was certain this was also a contributor to her lightheadedness. She decided to focus on Peeta, who sat beside her sketching quietly. She welcomed the peaceful moment because her companion always had that look of concentration on his face as he undoubtedly immersed himself in the vision present in his mind. There seemed to be a world that only he could see and he presented it beautifully through his artwork.

They weren’t alone on their trip, though, much to Katniss’s chagrin. Amongst the phone calls they had received after the news that they had been in touch with Caesar, one of his colleagues had contacted them about being their escort and would help them with getting ready for the interview. Effie Trinket had gone on and on about how fabulous it would all be, and how this trip coincided with her return to the Capitol after spending some time in District 12 with her boyfriend, who she was bringing along. Katniss would have cared less about this woman’s personal affairs if it hadn’t involved her dear uncle Haymitch. He was such a recluse that she wondered how he talked to people, but it turned out he could be social if he wanted to, or if he was coaxed into those situations. Katniss wrinkled her nose when Effie said she and Haymitch were dating because there was no way her uncle—so curt, unruly, and insufferable—could charm someone as bubbly and enthusiastic as Effie. Yet there was little she could do to protest their company. Effie had a job to do and Haymitch did know a thing or two about the Capitol himself after going back and forth for his involvement with the military.  It’s funny how small the world truly was.

It's not that she was embarrassed of her uncle (although, she held a different opinion about his drinking problem), but he and Katniss had the tendency to argue and she could be quite aggressive with him when he pushed her buttons. It was the complete opposite with Peeta who made her feel relaxed. She hadn’t put those two sets of emotions together, at least not in a long time, so she worried about coming off as hostile to Peeta. For now, Haymitch and Effie had left them alone and she didn’t even want to wonder what those two were up to.

Surprisingly, Peeta and Haymitch got along, or at least they could hold a decent conversation unlike when Katniss talked to her uncle. His talent for speaking and using the correct words people wanted to hear always impressed her because it was just talking, but there was something about Peeta that made everything he said believable and soothing.

Katniss was curious to see what Peeta was sketching, but she thought against stealing a peek since she didn’t want to disrupt his concentration. Instead, she studied his face and noticed how long and blond his eyelashes were, casting shadows over his eyes as he blinked. She wondered how they didn’t tangle together or if he ever realized how thick they were.

There was a moment where he lost his focus and looked up to meet her eyes. How long had she been staring at him? Two minutes? Two hours? Regardless of the time, Katniss felt heat rush to her face as she turned away, fighting a smile.

“What were you looking at?” Peeta asked.

“Your eyelashes…I was wondering what they’ll look like with all the make-up they’ll put on you.” She could have been honest and told him how pretty she thought they looked, but she couldn’t let him know that. However, she wasn’t lying when she mentioned the make-up.

Effie had mentioned they would have a stylist and a prep team to get them ready, which meant having their hair and make-up done in addition to having wardrobe they would provide. Katniss thought it was a waste of time and money, but it was the Capitol and they wanted for everyone to be full of glitter and shine.

Peeta chuckled. “Hopefully, we’re able to keep our faces. Have you seen what they look like?”

Katniss laughed at his implication. “They do look ridiculous with so many alterations they get done.”

“I guess having make-up on would be relatively harmless and normal.” Peeta made a good point, but she wondered if they could object to anything they didn’t agree with or if they had to go with whatever their prep team proposed.

They heard a shift from the door and Effie came through with a folder in her hand. “Alright, children. Let’s work on your interview. I have a list of questions Caesar may ask you, though know he won’t make them all in one night. You have to be prepared to answer the ones he decides to give you, and he may even make some up on the spot.”

Katniss’s talents did not include public speaking. Just thinking about being in front of people made her nervous, and having cameras zoom in on her face set off a new kind of anxiety she didn’t recognize. Even if she tried to convince herself that it would be fine because she was doing this for Peeta, she couldn’t help feel her stomach curl and stir. Effie would be helping them work on their answers and give them a mock interview, but even with the practice, she was afraid she would mess up. She wondered how Peeta could do these kinds of things without feeling nervous. He was confident and sure of himself when addressing people, making him quite popular amongst different groups at their university.

She didn’t know what she expected from the set of questions Effie had, but at least they weren’t as difficult to answer as she had thought. They were more or less basic, asking where they came from and what they were studying; what plans they have for the future; what they do on their spare time; how Peeta developed his talent and how he found inspiration for his fiery piece. Perhaps it was because they were students and not celebrities, but if they were going to get asked those sorts of things, then she didn’t feel she should worry so much about what to answer. They spent around three hours working on them, though, and Effie gave them advice on how to answer, which gave Katniss the impression that she and Peeta had to be extremely polite and mind their manners. It was all about manners with her.

That led to their escort evaluating the way they walked and moved, too. Effie sent Peeta to Haymitch so she and Katniss could work on her etiquette, and even though it pained Katniss to watch him leave them alone, at least he wouldn’t see how humiliating this type of training was. There were a lot of things Katniss couldn’t predict, but she was sure that this whole ordeal was made so she wouldn’t have the slightest ounce of peace of mind. It would have helped if Effie hadn’t been such a drama queen about every little thing they did, but Katniss tried to keep her cool, taking deep breaths and thinking about other things besides walking out of the room or ripping Effie’s papers in half to shut her up. She was not only here to help Peeta, but she was also Haymitch’s girlfriend and the last thing Katniss needed was to upset her.

“You must walk like a lady, Katniss,” Effie said for the third time after Katniss walked from one end of the train cart to the other.

“Will they even notice if I miss a couple of steps?” Katniss asked with slight irritation in her voice.

“Of course they will. They will notice every two steps, every step, every half-step. Your posture, your strut. It’s all important.”

Katniss did her best to walk the way Effie instructed and once she was satisfied, she had her practice with a pair of heels. They were too tall, too thin, and they pinched her toes, so Katniss had a difficult time adjusting to them and relied on holding on to one of the seats. She wondered if there was any way she could use her own shoes, but she doubted that would be negotiable. Effie took her hand and helped steady her, and Katniss was able to practice for a couple of rounds before she walked on her own with the monstrous heels.

“Does Peeta have to worry about any of this?” Katniss asked.

“That’s why I shooed him away. Haymitch is helping him,” Effie said as she looked over Katniss. “Pick up your chin and square your shoulders; you’re slumping.”

Katniss was not about to hear her say these things more than once so she tried learning quickly. She had to give her credit, though, for taking her job seriously.

“Why my uncle though?”

Effie gave her a mischievous smile. “Well, I have to put him to use, too. We can’t have him just drinking up the whole bar without earning it first.” She gave Katniss another look and bit her lip. “Hm, maybe if I put a book on your head, that would help you…”

With a forced smile on her lips, Katniss stood as straight as she could, sticking out her chest to prove she was doing everything Effie said. “Do we really need to use a book, Effie? I’m learning a lot from your instructions.”

“I’m not entirely pleased with this,” Effie pouted. “We’ll reach the Capitol by tomorrow so we can pick up on this again in the hotel. And work on the way you answer questions.”

The dismissal turned Katniss’s forced smile into a genuine grin. Maybe if she hurried, she’d still catch Peeta with her uncle.

Her prediction about Haymitch being at the bar was correct, but Peeta wasn’t with him, which disappointed her. She was about to walk back when her uncle called her to join him for a drink.

“You know I’m not old enough to drink,” she said.

“Then get some lemonade or something,” Haymitch responded, as if it were the logical thing to do.

“Where’s Peeta?”

“Said he’d go to his room. I have a vague feeling he went looking for you, though.”

If there was anything Katniss would order, it’d be another drink for her uncle so he’d leave her alone to find Peeta. However, he was in a rather talkative mood, which meant he was tipsy enough to be conscious and sober yet also enough to lose some of his inhibitions. She sat down on a stool next to him to humor him.

“How’d you manage to land that one?” Haymitch asked before taking a sip from his drink.

Katniss looked at him with confusion, not understanding what he really meant.

Her uncle rolled his eyes before speaking again. “You won’t even talk to a wall, much less people. Yet your friend is someone like him. He talks a lot.”

“Perhaps it was my sunny personality,” she answered sarcastically.

Haymitch snorted and shook his head. “Or you threatened to kill him.”

Katniss glared at him, feeling the annoyance build up in her body. “Let’s say I did. What did you do to convince Effie? Threatened to throw her off a bridge? Cut off her hair?”

“You’d be amazed what I can do while sober,” he said, though he didn’t sound very mocking about it.

After a moment, Katniss sighed and decided to keep some peace since Peeta was on her mind. “We’re childhood classmates. Started talking to one another a few months ago, though. Been friends since.” She took Haymitch’s glass and set it beside her—just enough to keep Haymitch from reaching—deciding to test out just how skilled he was without his liquor. “Your turn.”

Haymitch huffed out a breath through his nose in attempts to relax. “She’s a reporter in charge of District 12 and then transfers the news to the Capitol. There’s been special editions for veterans and we talked. Took her out on a few dates. Now, we’re here.”

“I took you for a hermit,” Katniss chuckled.

“Who says I’m not? Just because I go out in public doesn’t mean I don’t want to go back to my house,” Haymitch said with a scowl. “I took you for a misanthrope.”

“Well, you’re not too far off. I make exceptions, though.”

“Like the boy?” Haymitch asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Katniss took a deep breath as she tried to keep her irritation at bay. What was he getting at? “Yeah, like him.”

“I don’t know how you did it, though. You have the charm of a squirrel that’s been run over,” Haymitch snorted.

“Probably learnt from you since we’re related,” Katniss bit back. There was enough venom in her words to paralyze a person, but she knew Haymitch couldn’t be fazed by them. In part, it was true that she learnt from him to toughen up and have thick skin. His words didn’t usually hurt her and she noticed hers didn’t either. Maybe this was why she didn’t like making friends.

“How’s the interview prep going?” Haymitch tried reaching for his glass, but Katniss pushed it farther away.

“I’m putting my charm to use,” Katniss deadpanned.

Haymitch got up and took a bottle from the other side of the counter. The bartender had gone off and left him, which was a mistake really. “Too bad because in the Capitol, you have to make people like you. With your attitude, you’re not off to a real good start, sweetheart. And if you want for the interview to go well for Peeta, you’re going to have to try a lot harder to not come off as roadkill.”

Now that wasn’t fair! Katniss knew this wasn’t her forte, but it’s not like she wasn’t trying, either.

“Then give me some suggestions.”

Haymitch managed to open the bottle—it was one of those kinds where the aluminum is the only barrier between the liquor and its seeker—and took a swig from it. “Since you can’t borrow charisma from your friend and I can’t give you mine, then find an angle you can use. You’re a young college student. You’re a painter’s muse. Work with it.”

How could she ‘work with’ two details? Effie had said the interview would last anywhere from five to ten minutes, depending on how it progressed and how long Caesar talked, and that terrified Katniss. She gave Haymitch his glass back before hopping off her stool and going to search for Peeta. She found him in his room, looking over the paintings he had brought with him from his apartment. He kept Caesar’s painting in a different room since it was a lot bigger than the rest, which kept prying eyes away from it, including Katniss’s. Peeta wasn’t allowing her to see the final piece, even though she posed for him.

The challenge to make a new painting for Peeta’s commissioner was difficult because he let Peeta decide on what would go on the canvas. After a few days of thinking, Katniss had gotten an idea when the archery shooting range opened up at the gym. Maybe it wasn’t something Peeta would consider, but she would feel the utmost comfortable in her natural habitat. She was glad when Peeta agreed to the idea and decided this time to take pictures of her rather than relying on memory. Katniss knew he would be painting her with a bow and arrow, but the rest of the piece was hard for her to put together. He could do anything, really.

The paintings she could see, however, were in Peeta’s room, carefully stacked against each other, separated by a delicate material provided by the Capitol. He had mentioned to Caesar about his other works and the talk show host was more than happy to have him bring them along. He had friends that showed interest ever since he talked about Peeta and his art. It made Katniss smile knowing that people were supporting Peeta. She had never seen something like this happen, but she was glad to witness it.

“You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with Effie,” she sighed as she took a seat on Peeta’s bed.

“Brutal etiquette classes?” Peeta asked.

“Who knew coordination involved having to think about how you walked?” Katniss took one of the pillows and hugged it. It wasn’t as warm as Peeta, but she’d make do for now.

“I can switch with you, if you want. Your uncle seems to know what he’s doing,” Peeta offered.

Katniss gave him a skeptical look. “Thanks. I just talked to him, though. Gave me a proper pep talk.”

“What’d he say?”

She told him about Haymitch’s advice and what he thought about her and Peeta listened intently. As much as she tried to steer clear of any complaints, her tone gave away that she was evidently bothered by her being in front of a camera.

“I’m not very good at talking to people,” she said with a defeated sigh.

Peeta sat beside her, not being able to hold back a smile. “You’re good at talking to me, though.”

“Yeah, but you’re different.”

“How am I different?”

Katniss tried to think of something that set Peeta apart from everyone else, but she wasn’t sure if she could convey it with just words. All this time, he had been worried about not being able to do her justice when she was the one that struggled to do that very thing now. “Well, you’re…you.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “That’s very insightful, Katniss.”

She couldn’t help chuckle at his sarcasm. “You know what I mean!”

“I do and that’s why we’re friends!” As he spoke, he took the tip of her braid and flung it over her back playfully. He seemed to recognize something then. “What if we do that? Play off each other’s banter?”

Katniss tried chewing the idea. “How, though? We’d be talking to Caesar.”

“Yes, but we could also fill in things for one another.”

She tossed him the pillow she had clung to. “That’s not banter, Peeta!”

He set the pillow aside and took her hands in his. “Follow me with this. Whenever you and I talk about the same thing, you light up at some point. I’ve noticed this today, actually. Your uncle gave us a weird look when you started to laugh about something.”

“Did he mention it when he was helping you?” Katniss asked with an arched eyebrow.

“He asked me if you were sick and mentioned you never laugh unless you have a fever,” Peeta chuckled.

“To be fair…he’s right.”

“Then, worst case scenario: we induce a fever for you so you can be giggly with Caesar,” Peeta shrugged, as if doing such a thing could be that easy.

Katniss knew that wouldn’t be necessary. She more or less understood what Peeta said and tried to relax about the subject.  

The following morning brought her some more comfort as she and Peeta did what he suggested, in addition to her using Haymitch’s advice. After practicing their interview several times with Effie, she brought in Haymitch to rehearse with them and Katniss tried her best not to be sarcastic while answering him, but there was only so much she could take and realized Caesar could not be as intolerable as her uncle.

**

Arriving at the Capitol gave her different types of shock, not just the typical one with anxiety. From what she could see through the train’s windows, there were people waiting outside dressed in all sorts of colorful clothing. They were all ridiculous and exaggerated, and after seeing Effie with her voluminous wig and hat, she looked relatively normal, professional even, with her blazer and pencil skirt.

The culture shock set in when she and Peeta stepped off the train and took in the new world they’d been exposed to. District 12 was calm and peaceful with an abundance of nature trails and the woods to provide a tranquil environment. The Capitol, on the other hand, was flashy, full of lights, skyscrapers, billboards, and pollution. It was surprising to see so much artificial color in the sky that Katniss wondered where the energy even came from to power everything. She and Peeta were stunned and looked up to observe the buildings surrounding them. She could see faces of actors and models on advertisements, and a giant screen with Caesar’s face on it promoting his show.

There was a flash of a camera at first to the right of Katniss’s line of sight, followed by a dozen more and at some point, she had to keep her eyes closed in order to regain her focus. There were screams coming from the people that had gathered around the train station, and then it clicked for Katniss that the people weren’t waiting to board the train they had come in, but rather they were waiting to see them and they somehow knew their names because they were screaming them out. It was worse than her classmates back in the university, but at least she had Peeta to guide her away from these people. Effie prompted them to follow her and Katniss hadn’t even noticed she had latched onto Peeta’s hand until he gave hers a squeeze so she could walk with him. She didn’t let him go until they were boarded onto a large white vehicle, but even then, she sat beside him and they were both able to see through the window the eccentricity of the Capitol. Katniss didn’t envy them one bit; she was not a fan of so much light or ostentation. She wondered if Peeta thought differently since he was more open to new environments.

The hotel in which they would be staying was a tall building with countless stories, and Katniss wondered if it had an end to it. The staff wasn’t as colorful as the pedestrians on the outside world, and instead they looked serious and a bit emotionless. For one thing, she was glad about that because she didn’t think she could tolerate the freak show with the abrasive color schemes that were a sight for sore eyes. Once checked in, they were brought up to their room, which was a large suite with three rooms, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, and a balcony. This could be a house back in her district for all she knew. Because Caesar had invited them, he would be paying for the expenses, even if Peeta had protested against it. It was strange to Katniss how someone could go out of their way to accommodate them when they hardly knew each other, but something good was happening to Peeta so she would take it for all it was worth.  

They still had a couple of hours before their prep teams arrived, so Effie drilled Katniss and Peeta again about their etiquette and answers they would give to Caesar. After covering the same things multiple times, Katniss started to feel confident, but she still didn’t think she could be as self-assured as Peeta.

If Katniss had thought Effie was odd, their prep teams proved that there could be higher levels of strangeness plus more. She had never met someone who could gush and talk so quickly and excitedly as the six people that walked in, speaking to Effie about this and that and things Katniss didn’t understand or care about. It hadn’t been five minutes since the teams’ arrival and she was already getting a headache. Effie introduced Peeta and her to their prep teams and they praised Peeta for his work of art that had, apparently, gotten the Capitol in such a frenzy to know who this talented artist was and why Caesar Flickerman, of all people, was so interested in him and his muse. They looked at Katniss and touched her hair, face, arms, and other places she couldn’t even keep track of due to the commotion these people were making about how exotic and different and beautiful she was. She had thought there was nothing appealing about her; she didn’t know how to be sexy or charming or even coquettish, so there was no point in pondering over how attractive she could be. With so many voices saying she was pretty, gorgeous, stunning, she believed it less. Compliments were supposed to be a one-time thing, weren’t they? The short compliment battles she and Peeta had were different. They were aggressive and competitive and they said the comments in a sort of defying manner, being more of a battle than a compliment. Whoever blushed or laughed first lost and Katniss almost always won. Those were fun because Peeta and her knew how that game worked. Even if they did play it like a game, Katniss usually disguised her comments with actual compliments she was too shy to give Peeta on a normal occasion. The somewhat empty compliments she received from the prep teams weren’t part of the little game they played, though, so she couldn’t take them very seriously.

Being separated from Peeta and brought into different rooms made her feel uneasy, but they couldn’t be kept together. Their procedures weren’t the same and the prep teams had to focus on their assigned person. Katniss suspected this was also to keep them from getting distracted so they could do their jobs properly. Surely, she wouldn’t need so many people getting her ready, but Katniss was proven wrong when her team got to work on different tasks. One prepared a tub full of lotions and creams and other perfumed concoctions while the other two rid her of her body hair. It was painful and a bit invasive, but Katniss couldn’t really object. When it came time to get her into the tub, she felt nervous about being nude in front of her team, but they wasted no time in removing her robe and leaving her naked momentarily before receiving help to soak into the tub. At first, the flurry of flowery-smelling chemicals stung her tender skin, but afterwards, she felt the soothing sensation they were supposed to have on her.

As the three worked—Flavius, Venia, and Octavia—they all talked to one another, occasionally asking Katniss questions before getting back to their conversation. They were excited because they would get to be backstage in Caesar’s studio while Katniss and Peeta had their interview with him, and they would be able to go to parties and more events with more celebrities, and how exciting all that would be. Was Peeta suffering the same way she was or was he tolerating it better?

“What’s it like to be a painter’s muse?” Octavia asked Katniss as she worked on her nails. She had made a face when she saw how short Katniss’s nails were and mentioned she didn’t have much to work with so she made it her mission to give her long, beautiful nails even if they would be fake.

“I’m sure it must feel flattering!” Venia answered for her. “Does he ask you to pose for him for other types of artwork?” She applied a type of foundation that felt cool against Katniss’s face.

Katniss thought of the question as just curiosity, but Venia’s tone was a bit implicative of something she couldn’t figure out and then she became more confused when Flavius and Octavia slapped Venia’s arm playfully, telling her that was a private question. The giggle fit that followed added to Katniss’s confusion.  

Given the fact she’d only posed for Peeta once, it wasn’t much of a fantastic experience the way they were all expecting, but at least he let her decide where she wanted to pose. It sounded so simple, though, and these people were so excited. Would it crush them if she gave them the honest truth, or would it satisfy them if she gave a vague yet inflated answer? These people didn’t know Katniss and Peeta. The less they knew, the better for them.

“Well, Peeta makes it a priority to make me feel very comfortable is all I can say,” she shrugged, which wasn’t far from the truth if she thought about it.

That was enough of an answer for them and they continued on with another topic Katniss didn’t bother following. It was difficult to zone out, but she found a way to distract herself by looking at the room she was staying in. She had been guided to sit on a cushioned chair near the window so the illumination of the light coming from it lit up the room splendidly. The colorful lights that came through it were muted enough to not bother Katniss.

It felt like hours had gone by because she was feeling restless and irritated, but once her prep team stepped back to admire their work, she was allowed to stand so she could look at herself. If she complained that they were obnoxious, they made up for that with their ability to transform a person into an ethereal creature because that’s what they did with her. Her hair was adorned into an intricate bun woven with braids; her face was made up with a soft and sweet palette of orange, red, and pink eye shadow and powder, but the false eyelashes gave her eyes more volume and even made them look bigger; and despite the false nails, they looked delicate and elegant with the red nail polish and studded crystals over them. She had never had this type of treatment before. She not only looked otherworldly, but she even looked pretty. Perhaps that was the Capitol effect.  

She had been told her stylist, Cinna, would be bringing her dress and other accessories, and she was about to ask for him when a knock on the door answered her thoughts. It opened when her prep team gave the okay to enter and a dark-haired man with gold eyeliner walked in, a dress bag slung over his left shoulder and a large rectangular chest held by his right arm. He set his things down and introduced himself to Katniss before dismissing the excited prep team.

“You two have been making quite a commotion,” he said with a smile.

“Really, it’s all Peeta’s talent. I just so happen to be in the painting,” she answered.

“He must have had a good reason to pick you. Artists take inspiration from the world around them,” Cinna pointed out. He tugged on Katniss’s bun and she felt what must have been a bobby pin slip through her hair.

“He’s a creative person. I don’t think there is anything he can’t put on a canvas.”

Cinna opened the chest he brought and took out five boxes of different sizes before placing them on the chair. He handed one of the smaller boxes to Katniss before speaking.

“Not everyone chooses to play with fire, though. Have you wondered why he decided to have you surrounded by it?”

Katniss wasn’t sure what to expect when she opened the box, but underwear certainly wasn’t it. Of course, the Capitol had thought of everything to provide for her, and surely, Peeta was receiving the same type of treatment. She wondered if he also received a similar box. Would they know he preferred boxers over briefs? The only reason she knew that was because they had gone grocery shopping together so often that in one of their trips, he mentioned he wanted to buy a new pack and she’d accompanied him. Somehow, it hadn’t been discomforting to see the pictures of men’s groins on the labels of the plastic bags and she hadn’t thought of anything in particular when she was with Peeta, even giving her own opinion about what to get. The reverse hadn’t happened, where he’d accompany her to buy her own underwear. She knew she shouldn’t feel self-conscious, but having Peeta know she wore panties didn’t sit too well with her. He probably didn’t care, but she wasn’t ready for that type of experience just yet. It felt a bit ridiculous since she knew what type of underwear he wore and he hadn’t even so much as blushed when she found out.

“No…I assumed he pictured something in his mind and just went for it,” Katniss answered when she was able to find her voice again.

While she changed into her undergarments in the bathroom, Cinna took care of opening the rest of the boxes and taking out their contents, arranging her shoes beside the chair’s leg, and the jewelry she would be wearing on the desk top. He’d taken the dress out of its bag and unzipped it, ready to help slip it on Katniss when she walked out. All the while, they had continued their conversation and she found it so easy to talk to him, almost as easy as it was to talk to Peeta. Katniss felt like she could trust him. Maybe it was his unassuming attitude or his genuine smile, but she didn’t feel like she had to force herself to speak to him.

“I don’t think we should let that inspiration go to waste,” Cinna said as he zipped up her dress. “Hopefully, he doesn’t mind if I borrowed his idea.”

Katniss gave him a curious look. “Will the dress light up?”

“Only if you spin around. Caesar makes a point of asking his female guests to twirl for him. This will definitely make an impression.”

There was a sense of danger coming from the dress and Katniss felt rude for wanting to remove the beautiful red gown she had on. “Is it real fire?”

“No, it’s synthetic. It’ll look real, but that’s the point. It’ll match Peeta’s art with you being on fire.” Cinna’s words were reassuring and helped calm Katniss down, if only for a moment.

With the accessories in place, Katniss could see the sparkle of the earrings and the necklace when light bounced off the jewels while her bracelets looked like delicate flames surrounding her wrists. He helped her with her shoes, which were not as tall as the pair Effie had lent her to practice with on the train, and her look was complete. Despite this, she began to feel anxious, as if she hadn’t prepared enough. The time for the interview was approaching fast and the fact that she was ready to go didn’t make it any easier to process.

“I’m nervous,” she said as Cinna smoothened out her dress.

“Have you ever been interviewed before?” he asked.

“Not on live television. I don’t feel as confident as Peeta does. We’ve talked about what to do in case I freeze, but I don’t feel like it’s enough.”

Cinna pursed his lips in thought. “Why not keep your focus on something else? The cameras can be distracting, but if you look at someone else in the crowd, that would certainly help you.”

Katniss looked at him and thought of something. “Will you be in the crowd?”

With a smile, he nodded and caught on to her idea. “You can find me and pretend you’re talking to me. Pretend you’re answering my questions.”

“Hopefully, it’ll be that easy.”

“Is there anything you and Peeta do that helps comfort you?”

Katniss thought about it for a moment before remembering how she had held on to him as they left the train station. “I usually hold his hand and that helps me.”

Cinna placed individual orange and red crystals on Katniss’s arms and cheek. “Okay, so you have two options to choose from. Focus on either Peeta or me. Caesar won’t let you flounder around, either. Trust me, you’ll be fine and you’ll even enjoy yourself.”

Katniss wanted to believe him. If what he said was true and she could put her focus on these two people, then she was sure the interview would turn out fine. She would have Peeta by her side and he wouldn’t let her choke. Cinna would be in the crowd, surely cheering for her and giving her reassuring looks. Somehow, the pressure to perform well was slowly fading. She would have fun with it.

When she walked out of the room with Cinna, the others were already in the living room waiting for her. Katniss recognized the back of Peeta’s head—he was the only blond in the room—but he looked transformed. He wore a striking black suit with a red tie and cuffs, and his hair was combed back, looking shiny and flawless. They had joked about him getting made-up, but Katniss didn’t see anything on his face other than a bit of powder, which was probably customary for people who appeared on television to wear anyway. She wondered if he, too, would be lit on fire if he spun or did something with his sleeves.

“Look at you, Girl on Fire,” he said as he approached her.

She raised an eyebrow at him, although what she felt was amusement instead of annoyance at his teasing. “We need to give you a nickname, too.”

“I thought it was ‘The Artist’.”

“No, it needs to be a mouthful like mine.”

“Think about it on the drive over to the studio. We have to go already,” Haymitch interrupted.

“Why don’t you stay behind, uncle Haymitch? There’s a bar here,” Katniss suggested, hoping he’d listen to her, but knowing he wouldn’t.

“And pass up the refreshments over at the studio? That’s a trip I have to make, sweetheart.”

Katniss rolled her eyes at him, but the irritation was short-lived. Effie had a planner in her hand and she was marking something off her list before telling everyone that they needed to make their way down in order to head to the studio. A jumpy sensation settled in Katniss’s stomach, but Peeta offered her his arm and she slipped hers under his willingly. Their stylists and prep teams would be accompanying them for any last-minute adjustments, but at least they weren’t going in the same car as Peeta and her. She didn’t think she could handle listening to them talk about nonsense for another minute.

Even with the late afternoon sun, the city looked different from the time they arrived earlier in the morning. It was a sort of transition stage before the night life arrived and Katniss could only imagine what it was like. The arrival to Caesar’s studio had the same reception as the one she and Peeta received at the train station, only this time there were far more people and they were being held back by a thin transparent wall and security guards that were three steps from one another, all lined up. They couldn’t all be here to see them, could they? They weren’t even that well-known and it felt odd that they would be screaming for them. The Capitol must really be fond of artists if there was so much of a commotion already. All Katniss could really do was hold on to Peeta as they were led inside by Effie, who was all too familiar with the procedures.

They were given a printed schedule that she went over with them, which wasn’t much really. Caesar would introduce them, they would have their interview, Peeta would present his painting to Caesar, and then there would be some kind of challenge towards the end. If she had known that they were going to compete in something, she would have brought comfortable shoes with her. Sarcastic remarks aside, she really did wonder what Caesar would have them do. She and Peeta had watched a few episodes of his show to get an idea of what they were walking into, and it made sense that there would be some kind of challenge because Caesar would come up with some strange activities for his guests. Most of it was improvisation, so she wondered what would be set up for them.

The talk show host approached them a few minutes later when he spotted them and he seemed ecstatic at their presence. Compliments were thrown, small talk was made, and the tense atmosphere Katniss had sensed broke when she got familiar with Caesar and his mannerism in the short amount of time they spoke. He explained how the show worked, where they would enter from the stage and where they would take a seat near his desk, and they would have a fabulous time, he was sure of it! He reminded them to wave to the crowd and smile before he left to get ready. A small, electronic box was attached to Peeta’s and Katniss’s hips and microphones were hooked onto the collars of their attire so they could talk through them. Touch-ups for make-up were done by their prep teams. Cheers and encouraging comments were given, though Katniss found it weird that someone would tell them to break a leg. She spotted Cinna and Portia, Peeta’s stylist, sitting in the same row together, and she felt better at the reassurance that not only was someone she knew in the crowd, but Peeta was with her. The smile on his face was the sole reminder that she had come here for him and she wouldn’t have wanted for this to happen any other way. His energy seemed to cross over to her body and the electrifying feeling of adrenaline rushed through her, as if Peeta had given her his good vibes. Of course, they were going into this as one.

The loud, jazzy tune played that signaled the show had begun and Caesar took his place as he began his opening monologue, welcoming the crowd and giving them a brief summary of what the show would contain. There was static that briefly came from Katniss’s microphone and Caesar introduced Peeta and her as his guests. The crew from back stage gave them their cue and Katniss slipped her hand into Peeta’s, holding onto him tightly before walking onto the stage and being met with the rumbling cheers of the crowd that awaited them.

**

Did you think I was going to pass up the opportunity to include the District 12 Team? By team, I don’t just mean Effie and Haymitch, but the whole styling pack. I, personally, love Hayffie, so I had to add that to this story as well. Did you also think I was going to let K and P go alone to the Capitol? ;)

I picture Caesar to be like a combination of Graham Norton, David Letterman, Jimmy Kimmel, Jimmy Fallon, and Conan O’Brien. (I watch them sometimes lol.)

I imagine the Capitol to be a mix of New York City, Las Vegas, Hollywood, and Seattle. My brother has gone and he mentioned that people dress rather eccentrically, so while writing this, I pictured them. The Capitol also gives me that casino vibe of LV, the ‘Big City’ vibe from NYC, and the star-studded atmosphere of Hollywood. I’m from a small town in southern Texas and I’ve gone to big cities like Dallas, San Antonio, and Austin. The culture shock wasn’t as great for Dallas and San Antonio, but for Austin, I was quite appalled. I’m open to liberal settings, but I was hit in the face with Austin. So I definitely feel for Katniss and Peeta since they’re from a small town and then they come to the Capitol, which is probably huge and full of lights and they’re probably bugging their eyes out.

Also, Idk about y’all, but I don’t think finding out what type of underwear your friends use is weird. I’ve gone with my best guy friend grocery shopping and he needed new underwear so I browsed with him and gave him some of my opinions. Given that I’m gay, I should have been repelled by all the pictures of guys’ concealed dicks, but it was pretty funny to be there. He’s never gone with me to Victoria’s Secret, but he knows what I wear and I’m fine with that. Katniss isn’t me, though, and I know she’s not the most open to sharing about her body and all that, but I think if she knew what Peeta wore, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Maybe someday, he’ll find out what she wears. ;) As for the compliment battle, if you haven’t seen a video of that from celebrities on youtube, you haven’t lived. The cast of Love, Simon did one and it was great. Usually, the battles I have with friends aren’t written tweets; we just say things like “You’re cute.” “Your FACE is cute.” “Hey, BITCH, I love YOU.” Stupid shit like that in a very aggressive tone. P and K wouldn’t swear at each other, I can’t picture either of them calling each other bitch, but maybe little shit sometimes. I have been listening to the comments about hotel shenanigans and believe me, I will get to that! We just have to get through the next part, which is their interview. I will try to update next weekend. School is starting this Monday and I’m also moving into my apartment so I have a busy weekend. Fingers crossed that I can get to writing something during some of my free time. Let me know what you think!