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anonymousewrites · 7 months ago

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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Nine

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Nine: Misinformation and Memories

Summary: Saiki and (Y/N) deal with terrible journalists and homework.

The following day, the newspaper had worse articles. Clearly, they intended to irritate and discredit the castaways until they got the interviews and information they wanted.

“Two Castaways ignored our Requests—Who are these Two? Could They be more than Friends? We Caught Them Hugging.”

“Seven Mysteries about the Shipwreck.”

“The Saws that Mysteriously Appeared.”

“The Definitive Proof.”

“Takahashi Spills the Truth.”

(Y/N) looked at Saiki. The first title was an issue—if their relationships status got out to the students, the amount of drama in their friend group could be astronomical. “What do we do, Kusuo?”

“This is ridiculous,” said Saiki. It was just the newspaper club running a giant gossip column, and it was silly. Unfortunately, people were already whispering and glancing at the pair. (Y/N) grimaced, and Saiki narrowed his eyes. (Y/N) disliked the looks they were getting, and that meant Saiki disliked them.

“Are you ready for that interview now?” said Jouten, smirking and standing behind Saiki and (Y/N). Her hands were on her hips, and she looked down on them triumphantly. “This is what happens when you don’t cooperate, Kusuo Saiki, (Y/N) (L/N).”

You’ve gone too far. Involving his relationship with (Y/N) in the gossip was too much. It was rude, disrespectful, and could hurt (Y/N)’s friendships (he insisted he didn’t have friends, so what did he care?)

“You shouldn’t underestimate us,” continued Jouten. “Now tell us everything!”

Saiki projected his thoughts directly into (Y/N)’s mind. “We need to get them off our backs. If they’re going to public fake news, let’s tell them everything.”

(Y/N) shrugged. It wasn’t like anything really interesting happened on the island other than Mera going feral for a day. They could talk about that.

“That’s a weak story,” said Jouten, frowning after (Y/N) and Saiki finished their story.

“It’s the truth,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

Jouten waved a hand carelessly. “I can’t make an article from that. It would be over in three lines. Kaidou’s story was better.”

“Because he was lying,” said Saiki.

“Anything is fine if it’s interesting,” said Jouten.

“I thought reporters were supposed to tell the truth,” said (Y/N), confused.

“Whatever,” said Jouten. “Just hand them over, then.”

“Hand what over?” said Saiki.

“Pictures of Kokomi Teruhashi changing,” said Jouten. “You were with her for four days, after all.”

“Why would we take photos of someone changing?”

“No thanks.”

(Y/N) and Saiki’s respective asexuality reared its head.

Jouten stared at them. “Are you stupid?! You didn’t take any?! No way, you must have one.”

“I think it would be rude to take a photo of someone like that,” said (Y/N).

“Nobody even had a camera,” said Saiki. They covered the ethical and logical arguments against the idea in a single moment.

“How could you miss that?” exclaimed Jouten indignantly. “You’re telling me you don’t even have a photo of her pooping?”

“Ew?” said (Y/N).

“Are you stupid?” retorted Saiki.

“Are you kidding me right now? You didn’t take any?!” said Jouten.

“Why would we?” said Saiki.

“Weird…” said (Y/N), eyeing Jouten.

“You’re failures as journalists!” said Jouten.

“What about you?”

“I’m not a journalist?”

“I would have taken the shot,” said the cameraman.

“Are you stupid, too?”

“I’m telling Kokomi to avoid you,” said (Y/N) cheerfully.

Jouten groaned and sat down in her chair again. “Whatever. Just go.”

I hope they get shut down.

I really hope they get shut down. Saiki looked at the articles up, once more full of gossip and misinformation.

“Breaking News! Kokomi Teruhashi’s Island Nudes!”

“Poop Photos Leaked. Naughty Photos, Too.”

“Photos will be Exclusive Next Week.”

“Other People in Photos include (Y/N) (L/N)—”

Saiki didn’t bother reading the rest. He was already fuming. Beside him, (Y/N) made sure their uniform top was tightly buttoned. They were extremely uncomfortable with the idea of such photos of themself—especially since there was no way they existed.

“Kusuo?” said (Y/N), looking at him. “Can you…stop this?”

Saiki looked into (Y/N)’s eyes, so nervous and hesitant, so different from their usual cheer. Now you’ve done it. Jouten would face his wrath.

“Saiki! Is it true? There are photos of Teruhashi?” Several boys turned towards him.

“How could you?”

“Give them to me so I can get rid of them!”

“No, give them to me!”

“I’ll take the pictures of the others!”

“I’ll pay!”

“Kusuo?” said (Y/N), back away. Saiki moved slightly in front and glowered at the boys, who flinched back.

Paying for photos of my—! Saiki had not been this angry for a long, long time.

“Stop this!” Everyone turned in surprise. Teruhashi stood in the hall, hands on her hips. “Saiki wouldn’t do that. No one on that island would. The newspaper article is a lie.”

“But they said there were photos,” said a boy in confusion.

“There can’t be,” said Teruhashi. “Because I didn’t.”

“What? You didn’t—?” Poop?

“I didn’t.”

“It was four days. You would have to—”

“I didn’t.” Teruhashi’s smile didn’t break, and she shone brighter than ever.

“Even you have to—”

“I didn’t.” Her brightness was blinding.

“She didn’t!” cried the crowd. “She didn’t!” As unbelievable as her claim was, they refused to believe anything the newspaper said about her—she was infallible.

“At least that means they won’t believe anything else they read about us,” said (Y/N), laughing slightly at how easily everyone listened to Teruhashi.

“Good,” said Saiki. Still, he would deal with the newspaper club directly. They were spreading rumors about (Y/N) in addition to the girls on the island. Saiki wouldn’t stand for that.

Tomorrow, the newspaper club would find a rather unexpected article on their board—an expose.

“Is this for real?”

“I can’t believe her!”

“The newspaper club is the worst!”

“They photographed themselves pooping in their room?”

Jouten and her cameraman stared in shock at the photographic evidence of their plans to lie about Teruhashi, (Y/N), and everyone else who was shipwrecked.

“They’re perverts.”

The pair of “reporters” deflated and collapsed to the ground. Saiki smiled slightly in satisfaction.

“Maybe that will teach them a lesson on honesty,” said (Y/N) optimistically.

“Or stop them from being reporters,” said Saiki.

(Y/N) smiled and took Saiki’s hand. “Thank you, Kusuo.”

Saiki glanced down at them and squeezed their hand. “Of course.” Always for you.

“Okay, I’ve finished math,” said (Y/N). “And so have you. Should we take a break?”

Saiki nodded and closed his notebook. They had been working all morning to complete their homework before their break, so they deserved a small break (and a snack to go along with it).

A knock at the door. (Y/N) looked out the window and smiled.

“It’s Kuboyasu, Kaidou, and Nendou,” said (Y/N).

“Pretend we’re not here,” said Saiki.

“Kusuo, they’re your friends,” scolded (Y/N), though they were laughing.

“Bothers.”

“Sure,” said (Y/N), opening Saiki’s front door. “Hi, guys.”

“Oh, (L/N),” said Kuboyasu in surprise. “Hello. What are you doing here?”

“Homework,” said (Y/N).

“Will you help us with ours?” said Kaidou.

Saiki reached around (Y/N) to close the door.

“Wait, hear us out!” said Nendou.

“We brought these to share,” said Kaidou, holding out coffee jelly.

(Y/N) smothered a laugh as their boyfriend’s eyes zeroed in on the sweets like a hawk.

“Get in,” said Saiki.

“Thank you!” chorused Kaidou, Kuboyasu, and Nendou.

And so, (Y/N) and Saiki, happily finished with their work, sat back and ate the free coffee jelly while the other three copied their work.

“I’m copying everything,” said Nendou, smiling brightly.

“Don’t make it too obvious!” said Kuboyasu. “Copy around eighty percent of it at most.”

“You should keep it under ten percent,” said Saiki.

“Just compare your answers to see if it’s right or not,” said (Y/N) helpfully.

“It’s too hard to do that with the picture diary,” complained Kaidou. “That took so long.”

Saiki froze. “Picture diary?” He opened his schoolbag and dug around until he pulled out a diary. He flipped through it. Empty. All empty.

“It’s thirty-one days! You can’t finish that in a day!” said Kuboyasu.

“I guess this is more important than our homework,” said Kaidou.

“We don’t have a choice,” said Nendou.

“Yes, go home.” Saiki could just use his powers.

“We’ll help!” said everyone, and (Y/N) started laughing in the background.

“No, go home!”

“But we want to help!”

“Guys,” said (Y/N), still laughing. “You weren’t around for his summer. Come on, finish your work and head home. Kusuo will figure things out.”

“But—"

“I have plenty of photos from things we did all together, so I’ll give them to him,” said (Y/N), smiling.

“Oh, good idea!” said Nendou. He pulled out his phone and began to send pictures to (Y/N). “Here, more!”

“I have some, too!” said Kuboyasu.

“Me, too!” said Kaidou.

(Y/N)’s phone dinged like it was the end of the world as all the photographs came in. They smiled. “Thanks, everyone! Now, we should let Kusuo focus on putting everything together.”

“Alright!” Now that they had helped, the boys were more willing to be pushed out of the room and the house, happy that their homework was handled and their friend’s would be, too.

“How do you do that?” (Y/N) easily controlled the annoyances around Saiki.

“They wanted to help, so I let them,” said (Y/N), a smile on their face. “Come on, let’s see what photos we can use.” They sat down on the couch, and Saiki sat down next to them.

“Look at what Nendou sent—pictures of some of the ramen places we all went,” said (Y/N). “That was fun.”

“When they followed health codes,” said Saiki.

(Y/N) laughed. “Right.”

Saiki held out his hand to the phone, then to the pages of his diary, and the correct dates filled in with photographs of ramen restaurants.

“Kaidou sent us photos from when he dragged us to comicon the day-of,” said (Y/N). They chuckled. “I remember that I really wanted to cosplay but had no time, so you helped me put together an outfit.” Indeed, in the photo of Kaidou—dressed as Sasuke, the only “right” character for his tough and tortured soul—(Y/N) and Saiki stood with him. Saiki had no costume, but (Y/N)—dressed as Luffy—was putting a straw hat on his head playfully.

“That wasn’t so bad,” said Saiki. He was a bit of a nerd when he could avoid spoilers, so buying themed snacks and a poster or two was fun.

“And Kuboyasu sent pictures of you and him on your bikes,” said (Y/N). They laughed sheepishly. “I think that was the day I tried to be your backpack and we almost crashed.”

“We’re not trying that again,” said Saiki.

“Not for a long time,” agreed (Y/N).

Saiki transferred the photos over again and glanced over at (Y/N) and their phone. “What photos did you take?”

“I, uh, took some from our dates,” said (Y/N). Quickly, they waved their hadns in front of their face. “I didn’t post any anywhere. Our privacy is secure.”

“…Would you show me?”

(Y/N) brightened, and Saiki could melt from the warmth of their grin.

“Sure!” said (Y/N), scotting closer to Saiki. They held up their phone between them and opened their photos. “See, that one was when we went to Shibuya to take that baking class.” Saiki was covered in flour, and (Y/N) was pointing at him as they laughed behind the camera.

“The cupcakes tasted good after,” said Saiki.

“They did!” agreed (Y/N). They flipped to the next photo. “This is when we picked out outfits for each other.” They smiled at him and leaned on his shoulder slightly. “We look so cute.”

Saiki smiled slightly. “You did.”

“And this is one of my favorite photos,” laughed (Y/N), showing one of Saiki’s blissed-out face eating coffee jelly. “I think it captures you.” Another photo. “And this one is the one I sent to you when Kokomi, Chiyo, and I went to a festival and did face-painting.” They had tiny strawberries painted like freckles across their cheeks. “And you let me try to paint you after.” Saiki’s face was in the next photo—a coffee jelly painted on his cheek. The next picture was a selfie—(Y/N) kissing Saiki’s cheek, the one without the face paint. “I really like this one.”

Saiki’s hand subconsciously lifted and went around (Y/N)’s shoulders. With their head leaning on his shoulder, they were really looking like a couple, cuddling and everything.

Saiki looked down at them and smiled to himself as (Y/N) continued to ramble about all the memories they’d made together. He really didn’t deserve them. But he was glad to have them.

Saiki was head-over-heels for (Y/N).

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silentscrying · 6 months ago

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🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track three: something about a beat

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, hopeless stupid pining, alcohol, mentions of deceased parent, maki is Fed Up, anxiety, unbearably cute dogs. || sfw. 9k words.

“OKAY, IT’S UP,” Nobara says, grinning at you over her laptop. You’re sprawled across the living room at Takuma’s place, surrounded by a random combination of your band and his while others are in classes. After spending last night mixing the single, Takuma helped Nobara set up an artist profile for the band, and now your music is available on streaming services. Just like that.

“That’s so weird,” you say, grinning as you pull up Spotify on your phone. Next Fix by Cursed Technique. Strange to see your face on there, a photo taken of all of you by some freshman when you last performed at The Fix. Nobara sends the link in your group chat, and Toge responds within seconds.

freak no. 1: FAME freak no. 1: FORTUNE freak no. 1: wait it’s not opening freak no. 1: nvm i’m just stupid

“Does he ever pay attention in class?” Nobara mutters. Maki snorts.

Yuta is also in class, but that means he’s locked in, all his devices on Do Not Disturb. You don’t think Toge’s turned DND on a single time in his life.

“I’m going to Kinji’s!” Kirara shouts from the front entryway, and Yuji leaps to his feet and disappears down the hall, barreling back out of his room seconds later.

“Wait! Can you give this to Panda while you’re there?” He hands her a drive, and Kirara rolls her eyes and takes it.

“You need to slow down every once in a while,” she says, ruffling Yuji’s hair. “Okay, bye. I’ll be back in a few hours.” The dogs follow her to the door and return the living room when she’s gone, curling up on either side of Megumi, who’s busy writing some paper in the corner.

“What was that?” Nobara asks.

“Demo drive for the radio station,” Takuma says. “Panda plays our stuff sometimes. I bet he’d play yours, too.”

“That’d be sick,” Nobara says approvingly. She turns to bother Megumi, poking at him until he takes his headphones off and talks to her, and Yuji strolls into the room and flops down directly on the floor.

“Comfy?” you ask, poking him with a socked foot.

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Ah, look what you did, Kugisaki,” Megumi says, and you look up to see Shiro trotting toward you with her tail wagging, having abandoned her post at her owner’s side.

“That was not my fault! You’re the one who moved.”

“Because you kept poking me!”

You immediately slide off the couch onto the floor, letting Shiro sit in your lap. “Um, excuse me,” Takuma says, offended. You crane your neck to look up at him behind you on the couch. His face is lit up by his computer as he works on a string of code he tried (and failed) to explain to you, and there’s laughter in his eyes despite the affronted tone of his voice.

“Favorite,” you inform him with a wide, cheeky smile. He very maturely sticks his tongue out at you.

“Toge message,” Nobara informs you all, reading off her phone. “He says omg we have four listeners do you think they’re writing slutty fanfiction about us already.” She glances at you. “Petition to remove him from the chat—oh, look, he started sending the wolf memes again.”

Hanging out like this has become natural so quickly you almost forget you haven’t been friends with Shibuya Incident for ages. You feel almost as much at home in the tapestry-covered living room here as you do in the plant-filled kitchen of your own house down the street.

Maki checks her watch, sighing. “We should get going soon. The guys will be back in half an hour.” Then you have rehearsal, even though you’re not one of the three bands performing tomorrow night. When you do take the stage next week, you want to be ready.

Nobara is trying to read Megumi’s texts over his shoulder, which isn’t working out well for her, and he tells Maki, “Yes, please, take your invasive little gremlin home.” He puts his hand right on Nobara’s face and pushes her away, and she screeches and tries to tackle him, but he’s already sitting in a beanbag chair in the corner, so it doesn’t really do much except make Kuro jump on top of them both.

You glance up at Takuma again, still stroking Shiro’s fur while the others start to stand, ready to head home. “You rehearsing today too?”

“I’d hope so,” he shrugs.

“Yes, dipshit, in two hours. If you ever read the group chat,” Megumi says.

Takuma doesn’t seem fazed by Megumi’s irritation and just shrugs. “We have a new song for tomorrow.”

“You didn’t tell me!” You poke at his knee in retribution for his secrecy. “I wanna hear it!”

“You will,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

“Skipper, help, I don’t wanna walk our gremlin home by myself,” Maki calls from the door, and you reluctantly pat Shiro on the head and stand. She follows you to the entryway and sniffs at you while you cram your feet into your sneakers.

“Maki Zenin.” Nobara turns up her nose and crosses her arms over her chest. “If you hated me so much, why didn’t you just say so?”

“Bye!” Yuji shouts from the living room, and you all call out varying goodbyes and noncommittal sounds before making your way out the door and down the block, the afternoon air chilly against your cheeks.

Nobara waits all of ten seconds before spinning around and walking backward, grinning at you mischievously. “I bet Ino wrote a song about you.”

“Oh my god. Shut up,” you laugh. “He didn’t.” You can’t imagine you’ve given him all that much to work with. What would he write, that you like coffee and drums and Megumi’s dogs?

“Why else wouldn’t he show you? Don’t you guys text each other song lyrics like the little romantic fucks you are?” Your face is flaming, and you’re suddenly very grateful for the cool of the wind against your skin. The idea of him writing a song about you plants something weird in your gut—not something bad, just something unexpected and warm and blooming.

You try not to show it and your friends see right through you, Nobara turning back to skip up the drive with a satisfied grin and Maki rolling her eyes at the both of you.

“I’m gonna write a song, too,” Nobara declares, unlocking the door and pushing her way inside. “Skipper and Ino, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S—”

This time, you and Maki speak in tandem. “Shut up!”

—

“There’s a joke here,” Gojo says, tapping both of his index fingers together while he thinks. “About being a drummer and a journalist. Something about a beat.”

You laugh, jotting another note on the lined paper of your small spiral notebook. “I hate to tell you, but I’ve heard that one before.”

You’re not sure features qualifies as a specific beat, more of a broad category, but your staff isn’t nearly large enough to assign people to smaller specialties. Plus, it’s a college publication, designed for experimentation and growth. Nobody wants to be boxed in yet. That’ll come later, out in the monotony of the real world, and you’ll be confined to some hyperspecific beat like neighborhood crime or high school basketball.

“No!” Gojo cries, dragging his hands down his face like it’s the end of the world. “I can’t believe somebody plagiarized me before I even said it.”

“That’s not how that works,” Utahime cuts in dryly, sliding three shots across the counter to the waiting group of sophomores and then effortlessly throwing together another cocktail.

Gojo leans toward you, shadowing out your notes, and stage-whispers, “You see what I have to put up with?”

You do, actually, see what Utahime has to put up with. She long ago put down a line of blue painter’s tape to divide her side of the bar from Gojo’s, and she preaches frequently that there will be dire consequences if he crosses it.

Of course, he crosses it at every opportunity, and here he is, still.

It’s also just how the two bartenders split up the work, the customers, and you write that down too, that it’s an effective division of labor. “Don’t read my notes,” you tell Gojo as he squints at your writing upside down. “It’ll wreck the journalistic integrity.” He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout that reminds you violently of Toge, who’s taking photos of Utahime as she works.

You glance over to the stage, where Angel is performing the last number of her set, a bouncy, belty song that you recognize from a video she posted earlier this week. The crowd loves it, dancing around and singing along, but still, you think she’ll have a tougher time making it through as the only solo artist remaining in the competition.

You whoop and cheer as she hits her last note, holding it for an ungodly amount of time, and Gojo eventually has to abandon his teasing to do his job. When Toge thinks he’s got enough photos, the two of you slip back into the crowd, Panda commentating on the change of artist as you catch up to your friends.

“And now, here’s your alt rock duo, your boys, the Kamos,” he says as you come to a stop beside Yuta. “Give it up!”

Nobara very loudly gives it up.

“Hi.” Yuta nudges you. “How’s the reporting going?”

“Good.” Noritoshi and Choso settle in on stage, tuning their guitar and bass and making girls swoon in the front row but somehow remaining entirely oblivious to it. “You’re not going home tomorrow, right?”

Yuta shakes his head. This weekend is fall break, which just means that there were no classes today. You spent the first day of your three-day weekend cramming for midterms.

Toge’s heading out after this and Nobara will leave early in the morning, but Maki and Yuta will be here for the weekend. You wonder about Takuma and his band, but you can’t ask right now—they’re all backstage, waiting to go on after the Kamos.

The boys in question, when they’re not doing covers, have incredibly nonsensical song names that have little to nothing to do with their lyrics. The first track of theirs you ever heard was called Song About the Time My Dog Got Lost for Three Hours.

“Okay,” Choso says after their cover of a song by The Smiths. “This one’s called Please Don’t Tell Your Mom I Was At Your House Past Curfew.”

He and Noritoshi then proceed to play the most upbeat, energizing alt rock shit you’ve ever heard. You love these guys, and the crowd does too, the way they don’t take themselves too seriously but they’re genuinely talented. But it’s making you nervous for Takuma and his band, because only one group goes on tonight. Only one.

No, you think, shrugging it off. They got this.

When Shibuya Incident finally walks on stage, the ensuing roar of applause before they even do anything eases whatever worries you might have had. They were slotted at the end of tonight’s set for a reason. Everyone loves them.

Without prelude, they launch into a song you recognize from their EP, a fast-paced track with a pretty simple chord progression that gets entirely flipped on its head in the bridge. You let Yuta spin you around as you dance with the rest of the crowd, the lights and sound washing over you. Yuji’s in his element, Kirara is fucking killing it, and Megumi—as always—is the rock the band stands on, unerring tempo and steady presence keeping everyone on track.

After the song finishes with a crazy riff from Kirara, and the crowd takes a minute to freak out and then slowly wind down, Takuma grabs the mic to address the audience.

“Hi again,” he says, scanning the clusters of people from his place on the low stage. His gaze lands on you and your friends, and he smiles a little wider. “That was Godspeed. We’re gonna slow it down a bit for our next song. It’s a new one. We’re calling it Curious.”

Nobara practically launches herself over Toge to get to you and shake you by the shoulders. “What did I say?” she hisses.

“Oh my god,” you say, shoving her off. “They haven’t even started yet.” But you look back at Takuma to find he hasn’t stopped looking at you.

To your surprise, the instrumentals don’t start first. Most of Shibuya Incident’s music opens with a riff or a fill or at least four bars of introduction. But this time, Takuma leans into the mic and starts singing, just a low “ooooh,” and the rest of the band comes in one by one—Megumi, then Kirara, then Yuji. Kirara’s harmonizing on a higher note, and the effect is a slow, dissonant build that makes you lock in, all anticipation.

Then Takuma tugs the mic from the stand and sings,“I see your eyes, curious, curious, you wanna know why the sky’s so goddamn blue. I hear your voice, curious, curious, you’re asking me if I’d ever fall for you.”

And as you listen, Nobara’s smile just gets wider and wider, and Takuma keeps making fleeting eye contact with you, and you realize abruptly that she was right.

This song is about you.

Takuma’s said it to you before, in passing, how he likes the way you look at the world—through a journalist’s lens, curious about how everything works, always searching for unseen answers.

“Wish I could see my life like you do,” he and Kirara sing in unison. “Wish I could walk the streets each night… wonderin’ if the full moon sees you, but I just keep lookin’, lookin’ down at the time.”

You’re transfixed, just like the first night you saw Takuma perform live, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the stage if you tried. Someone should write a story about him, you think. This man could be on the cover of Rolling Stone and you wouldn’t question it.

God, you’re so far gone, aren’t you?

When the set is over, the last song finishing with a long, drawn-out chord, Takuma thanks the crowd and hands the mic off to Panda to take over. As the band disappears one by one into the backstage area, he lays out the voting process.

“The voting period will last ten minutes, assuming no technical difficulties,” he says. “QR codes, as usual, are posted around the bar. If you’re a competitor, you can’t vote. Make sure you’re logged into your .edu accounts or you won’t be able to access the form…”

Your fingers are tapping nervously at your thighs, the crowd around you already glued to their phone screens. The band isn’t back out on the floor yet—Panda will call all three artists up at the end of the voting period and announce the finalist live.

Sweat is starting to pool in the palms of your clammy hands, and you wipe it on your jeans, anxious. To you, there’s no question. But it’s not up to you.

“Relax,” Yuta says, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It won’t even be close, Skip.”

After the longest ten minutes of your life, Hana Kurusu, the Kamos, and Shibuya Incident join Panda back on stage, a dramatic spotlight bouncing between each artist as Panda draws out the announcement. “And the artist from tonight moving on to the finals in two weeks is…”

“Just say it,” Maki huffs beside you, and Yuta chuckles and nudges her with a shoulder. She tries to hide the slight upturn of her lips, but that’s not going to slide past you.

You’ll tease her later. For now—

“Shibuya Incident!”

The reaction is explosive, both on the floor and the stage. Yuji practically leaps onto Kirara’s back, and Takuma’s face goes slack in surprise before a shy smile works its way across his spotlit features, Megumi being his nonchalant, unaffected self in the midst of it all. Nobara is screaming, and you’re yelling at the top of your lungs, Toge whooping and snapping photos as the Kamos and Hana crowd the band, congratulating them on the victory.

Takuma looks out into the crowd again and you wave, smiling unabashedly, so fucking proud and excited and thinking maybe, maybe, if you make it too, you’ll be facing off against each other, and wouldn’t that be something?

Maybe you shouldn’t be so thrilled. He’s the competition, after all.

But if he wins for going up there and singing curious, curious with his eyes locked on yours, you suppose it wouldn’t be all that bad.

—

Most of Saturday passes in a barrage of classwork and inconsistent, snacky meals in between, the diet of a harried college student, ramen and chips and whatever actual food Yuta leaves for you in the fridge. He’s back from work by three, and Maki wraps up her own work around the same time you do, late afternoon creeping into evening. The three of you are curled up in the living room, the TV on while Yuta and Maki try to pretend they’re not looking at each other.

You need to get them alone.

you: are you busy takuma: not at all takuma: what’s up? you: mind if i crash your house?

You glance up and swear Yuta has somehow, in the last two seconds, moved closer to Maki on the couch.

you: i think yuta and maki need some ~ALONE TIME~ takuma: TEA takuma: sorry kirara told me to stop saying that in response to everything that happens ever takuma: it’s fun tho

“I’m going to Takuma’s,” you announce, and Maki raises a brow at you.

“Again?”

“Sue me for having friends.”

Yuta’s brows crease a bit at the word friends, but he doesn’t comment. With a furtive glance back, you grab your shoes and slip out the door, successfully leaving Maki and Yuta alone in the house for an indeterminate amount of time.

Please, you think. One of them has to make a fucking move soon.

Takuma answers the door before you can knock. “Hey.”

“No pups today?” you ask as you step past him into the entryway, kicking off your shoes.

“Sadly,” Takuma says. “Fushiguro took ‘em with him, wherever he went. Ah, man. Did you only come over for them?” His tone is teasing as he closes the front door behind you, trading the October cold for the warmth of the house. “Afraid I’m a letdown.”

“Takuma,” you scold at his self-deprecation. “You’re basically an excited puppy yourself, so—”

“Hey!” he squawks, and then thinks about it and tilts his head, conceding. “Fine. Maybe. Yeah, okay.”

“What have you been up to?” you ask as the two of you make your way to the living room.

“Procrastination. Guitar instead of homework, mostly. You?”

“Same,” you sigh. “Well, not the guitar part. But I should have been way further ahead on my homework by now.” You shrug. You’ll get it done; you always do.

You settle in easily on the couch, and the two of you boot up the Wii and play a few rounds of Mario Kart because someone left the disc in. And when you’ve both beaten each other enough times to lose count, Takuma mentions something about your single and you realize you haven’t checked the stats.

“You can see more on a computer,” he says, and you follow him up to his room, where he cedes control of the device to you. You pull up the artist profile and grin at the steady upward climb of listeners. It’s not a ton, but this only went up on Thursday.

“We haven’t even done anything to promote this,” you admit, spinning in Takuma’s desk chair to face him. “I don’t even know how people are finding it.”

He immediately looks down, which means he knows something. You nudge him with your foot. “What? What does that face mean? Takuma.”

“I maybe gave Panda a drive of the mix,” he shrugs, talking fast like the meaning of the words might elude you if he mumbles enough. “And he maybe played it at the radio station earlier today. Several times.”

A wave of affection crashes into you so fast that you jump up and throw your arms around him without thinking, laughing into his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that!” You pull back, grinning. “That was really sweet. Thank you. Seriously.”

“Ah, it was nothin’.” He reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck, a gesture you’ve come to recognize as self-conscious.

“Not nothing,” you say softly. He smiles.

After a moment, he glances at the window and seems to come to a decision. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself.”

“Wanna go out on the roof?”

You blink, processing the words, instinctively looking to his window. You’ve never really realized it before, but it opens out onto a flat expanse of shingles, a perfect lookout right outside Takuma’s bedroom.

Your grin is answer enough, and he unlatches the window and pulls it open. He glances back at you, up and down, and you feel yourself blush before you realize he’s taking in what you’re wearing. He grabs a thick jacket from the closet and tosses it to you, then shrugs one on himself and leads the way, gripping the window frame with one hand and pulling himself outside. After a moment of consideration, he reaches back in and grabs his acoustic guitar by the neck from its place against the wall, pulling it out with him.

When the window shuts behind you, you’re immediately grateful for the protection of the extra layer. Even with your hands balled in the sleeves of your hoodie, it’s chilly out here.

You’re surprised by how much of the campus you can see spread out in the distance. It’s early evening, but the days are getting shorter, the sun a misleading blaze of heat in the otherwise cold hour.

“This,” you say, “is fucking awesome.”

“Right? I called dibs on the room as soon as we toured. For this.” He grins, leaning back on his palms, legs spread out in front of him. You lie back on the roof, letting the cool surface seep through your hood, staring up at the sky.

“So Maki and Yuta,” he says, shaking his head fondly. “Are they finally a thing?”

“I don’t know, but if they’re gonna do anything about it, it’s not gonna be while anyone else is home.” You shrug, or at least do whatever approximation of shrugging you can when you’re bundled in a bulky hoodie and jacket and lying on a roof.

Honestly, Yuta and Maki are some of your favorite people on this planet, and you can’t imagine anyone else who really deserves them. They’re the de facto mom and dad of your group—as in, Yuta is the band mom and Maki’s the gruff father who won’t admit his affection for the pet he didn’t want to get but ended up loving anyway.

“Man, I’m glad I wasn’t around when Kirara and Hakari were in their pining phase,” Takuma chuckles. He pulls his legs in, sitting cross-legged, and picks up the guitar, idly tuning it as he speaks. “Then there’s Itadori, probably picks up girls everywhere he goes and has never once realized it.”

“What about Megumi?” You let your head loll to the side, looking at Takuma with the guitar settled in his lap.

“Fushiguro? I don’t know, man, he doesn’t tell us anything. He has like, resting yearning face. I’ve got no idea. I don’t even know where he is right now, just that he’s supposed to be back really late.”

“That means the dogs will be back?” you say hopefully.

Takuma shakes his head, strumming another chord, and another, fingers moving deftly across the frets. “I’m not enough for you, huh?”

“I said no such thing.”

He plucks out a happy little melody on the guitar, looking at you. “Wanna learn?”

You sit up, your hood falling back off your head in the process. “Really?”

In answer, he hands you the guitar, scooting closer to you to show you where to place your fingers. You’ve been around your bandmates enough to know the basics, but you let him teach you anyway, giggling a little when he guides you through a three-chord progression and says, “Damn, you’re a natural.”

He leans back and stares at the sky, listening to you play. Eventually you add a few other basic chords into the mix, varying your strumming patterns, already feeling the strain in your fingertips from the unfamiliar press of the strings.

“So,” you say, still idly messing around on a G chord. Takuma props himself up on his elbows, looking over at you. “What was the incident in Shibuya? Have you been to Shibuya?”

He snorts. “Nope. Honestly, it was more to make people ask the question. You know in the Marvel movies, how Hawkeye and Black Widow are always talking about Budapest?”

“And nobody knows what the hell happened there,” you say, laughing. “Ah. I see.”

“I’ve never even been to Japan,” Takuma admits. “Fushiguro has, though. Maybe he had an incident in Shibuya. Who knows?”

G, C, D. D, C, G. You play the chords over and over, strumming softly, slowly, letting your finger catch on each of the strings, then five of them, then four.

“This is a really nice guitar.”

“Yeah.” There’s a beat of silence that makes you glance up, weighted differently than the usual pauses in conversation. Takuma is sitting up now, knees pulled loosely to his chest. “Was my dad’s.”

“He taught you to play,” you remember aloud, recalling your conversation in the coffee shop. But now you’re hung up on that word: was. Part of you doesn’t want to ask, but part of you feels like his words are a sort of quiet invitation, like he wants to tell you, but doesn’t want to force it. “I… is he…?”

“He died when I was twelve,” Takuma admits, eyes fixed on the sky. “Uh, car accident. It was stupid, some issue with the other guy’s car. Couldn’t stop it.” You’ve never heard his voice like this before, taut, oddly thin. Carefully, gently, you set the guitar on the roof beside you, watching him.

“Were you…”

“In the car?” Takuma sniffs. “Ah. Yeah.”

“Oh,” you breathe, and that’s what it is, more of a breath than a word. “I—Takuma…”

When he laughs, there’s no humor in it. It’s a hollow kind of chuckle, one that says everything he can’t. “It’s why I learned to skate, actually,” he says quietly, not meeting your eyes. “I’d get everywhere that way. I didn’t—want to drive, I guess. Got my license late and everything. I think people thought I was just a slacker.”

Whatever words you might scrounge up feel inadequate for a grief this large. You don’t want to pity him, and you don’t want to dismiss him, and that’s always the problem with hard conversations, isn’t it? What a line to walk.

“You’re not a slacker,” you say eventually, and he raises a brow at you. “I mean, maybe you procrastinate coding projects to a worrying extent, but you always get it done.” You smile thinly. “You don’t give up in any way that matters, Takuma. I like that about you.”

He chuckles. “Nanami said something like that, once.” His eyes go far-away again, just for a second. “He’s kind of the closest thing… like… I don’t know. I’ve known Nanami for a really long time. He was my dad’s friend. And I guess he sort of became a father figure, after…”

He shrugs. “It’s probably a big part of why I decided to go here. That, and it’s not too far from my mom’s. I don’t know that she’d have been thrilled if I went somewhere farther.”

“You’re not home,” you say carefully, a question but not question. “For break?”

“She’s on a business trip,” he says. “So not much point. But I’ll see her at Christmas, at least.”

For a while the silence stretches out comfortably between you, like a weighted blanket. You can’t ignore it, but it isn’t unwelcome. At some point you scooted closer to him, and now you sit side by side, only the layers of your jackets separating you.

“Thank you for telling me,” you say eventually, soft, unwilling to break the quiet. He nods.

“You didn’t go home either,” he points out, an unspoken question in the spaces between words. “Is it just ‘cause you’re from so far away, or…”

“Yeah. A Friday off didn’t feel like enough of a break to warrant a flight back.” But that’s not all of it. His silence tells you he knows it, too. He’s been so candid with you all night. You can share this part of yourself, you decide.

There’s something about Takuma, anyway, that makes you want to tell him things. You want to know him, and you want him to know you—you now, here, at school, but also you there, home, in the past.

“I haven’t been home since July,” you admit, hugging your knees to your chest, mirroring him. “My town is… small. I liked it when I was little. But the older I got the more I started to feel, just—I don’t know, stifled?”

Your hometown used to feel huge, like you could explore it forever on your Razor scooter and never find all its secrets. But you grew, and the town didn’t grow with you, and suddenly you were standing outside your high school realizing you knew every corner of the self-proclaimed suburban city, every street and coffee shop and alley. You’ve always been curious. And at some point, there wasn’t anything left in that place for you to be curious about.

“I love my home. I love my parents. It’s just… I needed to get out. I don’t think they ever really understood that.”

It’s easier to admit things when you’re looking straight ahead like this, out over the lines and curves of buildings, picking out street lamps, watching a few stray cars make their way around slow corners.

“Is it what you wanted it to be?” he asks quietly. “Here, I mean.” He nods out to the vast stretch of campus, spread across the city. So many corners you’ve been here years and haven’t found them all.

Campus is weird on break, you muse, looking out over the darkness. A whole parallel world for you to explore, the shadowed version of the place. A video game map on single-player, a dead server. Hardly any lights on in the windows, no kids out on the street. Like a ghost town. But it still doesn’t feel empty to you. There’s so much promise in it.

“Yeah,” you answer after a moment, soft. “Yeah, I think it is.”

A ghost town that isn’t lonely, somehow. You could write a song about it, you think. Friends with all the dead in my ghost town. The phrase plays itself out in your head, and it sounds like something moodier than your band usually goes for. It sounds like Shibuya Incident.

You wonder if this is what it means to be in a relationship—not a romantic one, necessarily, but a friendship, or any kind of bond between two creative people. If it’s this, the sharing of intellectual property with another person to the extent that their voice and yours start to blend.

It’s in the way Nobara can finish your sentences when you’re throwing out potential verses, scrambling for rhymes. How Toge and Yuta can anticipate each other’s movements, match chord progressions without talking about them. How Maki slips into your tempo seamlessly, every single time.

And now your lyrics sound like something his band would play. Maybe Takuma’s songwriting will start sounding like yours, too.

You don’t think you’d mind.

“Can I tell you something?” Takuma murmurs after a moment, sounding hesitant.

You rest a cheek on your knees, hands clasped together in front of your shins, facing him. “Mhm.”

“That song last night,” he whispers, and he’s not looking at you, just staring out at the rapidly darkening campus. “It was about you. And how you—I don’t know, the way you look at things. Like they’re always so full of potential. I wish I could do that. You just see things and want to know more. I like… watching you, being curious.” He pauses for a beat and then quickly adds, “Not in like, a creepy way! Just—I don’t know.”

A chuckle slips through your lips against your will, the darkness hopefully hiding the color in your cheeks. Maybe you can blame it on the cold. “Watching?” you ask, teasing. “I can’t imagine I’m all that intriguing. There’s a lot of cool people around here, y’know.”

“Skip,” he murmurs, and now his eyes are locked on yours. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

Every nerve in your body is hyperaware of his proximity, and his hand reaches up to cup your jaw, the touch ghosting over you, barely there, hesitant. A nonverbal question. Is this okay?

You lean into the warmth, letting his breath wash over you, mingling with your own in the space between your lips, smaller and smaller and smaller.

He’s watching you, closely, giving you a chance to pull away. So many words exchanged tonight, but you don’t need any for this.

You don’t pull away.

It’s slow at first, and soft, and hesitant. The shingles dig into the heel of your hand as you lean forward on one arm, a grainy feeling on your fingertips, in the grooved imprints left by the guitar strings. You find your free hand moving up to his shoulder, pushing, guiding him down until his back is pressed against the roof and you’re over him, lips locked with his. You look at him, and he’s so full of potential. You want to know everything about him, you want to know how he works, you want to ask questions. And you do, with your tongue along the seam of his lips, and your hand tangled in his hair, and his breath mixing with yours in the air. It’s near full dark now, feeling later than it really is, evening in autumn.

You’re not cold anymore.

He deepens the kiss, body coming up to meet yours, and you feel like maybe this roof is the top of the whole world, because how could you ever feel higher than this?

“Takuma,” you murmur, and you kiss him again, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this way before, but you’ll do maybe anything in the world to feel this way again.

And then a sharp, deep sound makes you jump, scrambling to sit up on the shingles, breathing heavy from the kiss and the noise. Did that come from inside or out?

“What—”

“Oh, crap,” Takuma groans, pulling open the window. “Someone’s home.” He looks back at you, cheeks flushed from the cold or the kiss or both, looking a little helpless, a little apologetic, and you can’t help the small laugh that bursts from you at the absurdity of the situation. You feel like a teenager getting caught by your parents.

“We should…” He nods toward the window. You hand him the guitar, then crawl back over to the window and slip inside after him, the warmth a stark relief from the temperature you’ve gotten so used to. Your heart is a jackhammer, rapidly pecking away at the once-stable structure of yourself.

You kissed him.

You kissed Takuma.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out with still-cold hands.

utah: [1 Image Attachment] utah: dinner?

Admittedly, the pasta does look amazing, and your stomach grumbles as if on cue.

“I should go,” you say awkwardly, holding up the phone for Takuma to see.

“Uh, yeah, uh—for sure, no problem, I should go see what’s up down there anyway,” he says after a beat of hesitation. “I’ll see you, uh…?”

“Around?” you finish, laughing slightly.

“Yeah,” he echoes with an amused half-smile as you make your way down the stairs. “Around.”

—

You’re freaking out.

It’s 4:31 on Monday afternoon, you’ve been listening to the same song on repeat for an hour, and you’re freaking the fuck out.

After Saturday night, you didn’t talk about it. You kissed him on the roof and your heart turned into a hummingbird and you were warm all over, and then the front door slammed and you nearly jumped out of your skin, and Megumi was back early and Takuma had no idea why, and you pet the dogs and then slipped out, wanting to give them their space.

And you haven’t talked about it. You haven’t had time. Sunday was a mess of cramming for midterms and your housemates returning from break and you threw yourself into your studies and tried not to remember, but now…

The stupid fucking switch in the back of your brain has flipped itself on and you can’t turn it off, all worry and criticism and hypothetical worst-case scenarios and you’re giving too much too fast, Skipper, you know better than this!

How many people in your tiny town fell in love young and grew to resent each other? How many of your high school friends grew up with divorced parents? How many breakups have you seen in your two and a half years at this university, how many tears and shouting matches in public halls, how many friend groups falling apart because two people fell in and out of love?

The thing is, you know you’re panicking about nothing. Takuma hasn’t asked anything of you. It was just a kiss. He is not your boyfriend. This is not a contract.

But if you talk about it, it could be, and you don’t understand why that scares you so much. Do you have commitment issues? What the fuck is your problem?

You probably wouldn’t have a problem at all, if you’d just had the time Saturday night to figure out what the kiss meant. But now that a whole day has passed and you haven’t seen him and you don’t know for sure, your mind keeps wandering down paths it should have stayed away from.

What if it’s a friends with benefits situation and you’ve just read too much into it? Maybe this is all he wants, making out, spending late nights together getting physical. Maybe that’s all. A heated makeout session on a roof doesn’t mean he feels the way you do. And do you even know how you feel? Fucking hell.

It’s the anxiety talking, the more logical part of you says, the part that sounds an awful lot like Maki. Your friends aren’t around to tell you how stupid you’re being, so the only texts you and Takuma have sent since Saturday night are playlists and song lyrics skirting around whatever truths you’re trying and failing to articulate.

Do I Wanna Know floats from the speaker on your desk, your phone next to your head on the bed, facedown and dormant. Do I wanna know if this feeling goes both ways?

Your door slams open and you jump up, whirling around to find Maki with her arms crossed, leaning on the frame. “Alright,” she says. “That’s the tenth time I’ve heard that godforsaken song. What the fuck is up with you?”

When you don’t respond, she steps inside and closes the door behind her, pauses the music, and then makes herself comfortable on the edge of your bed. “Talk to me,” she says. “You’re driving yourself crazy.” The words stall in your throat, useless, stagnant things as you avoid her knowing stare, instead staring at the popcorn ceiling until it blurs.

Maki sighs and shifts entirely onto the bed, turning herself to face you.

“I didn’t know you were home,” you say lamely.

“You’re driving me crazy, Skip,” she tries, and she knows you so fucking well, because the guilt trip is exactly what dislodges all those words built up in the back of your mouth—she breaks the dam and you spill your soul onto the quilted comforter, rambling, a rush of truths and things you thought you’d hidden from yourself but you can’t anymore. And she just listens, not looking away once.

You tell her everything: that you know you catch feelings fast, too fast. That despite your bleeding heart, you haven’t really been in a long-term relationship since high school. That you think of the future, of all the places you want to go, all the things you want to do, and there’s no guy in those dreams, and the thought of restructuring the life you’ve planned out for yourself around a boy who might be temporary is too much to even fathom. That—

“I kissed him,” you say breathlessly, bordering on hysterical, and you feel so stupid, this worked up over something so small, something that should be good. “I kissed him and now it feels real and now I’m freaking out.”

“I can see that,” Maki says calmly. “Let me ask you something. What is the worst thing that could happen, if you date him and it doesn’t last?”

“I…” You chew on your bottom lip, mind spinning through every bad outcome. “He could end up hating me, Maki. I could get some crazy job and have to leave, or he would come with me and leave his whole life behind and then he’d grow to resent me and we’d just be in some kind of hellish limbo until one of us snapped. Or he could—he could leave me, or we could try long distance and he could fall in love with somebody else, or I could, or—or—”

You flounder for a second, realizing your biggest worry is the one most immediate, the one most central to your life as it exists right now.

You’ve been sitting here thinking about big-picture things that are so far out, trying to make the feeling curdling in your gut feel like a valid reaction to a major life event. But that’s not what this is.

You’re just really, stupidly, pathetically scared that Takuma kissed you and didn’t mean it.

“Or—I guess that’s not the issue. Not really,” you admit quietly, not looking at Maki. She probably already knows. She has a way of knowing exactly what’s bothering you and just asking the right questions, getting you to talk yourself out of whatever hole your anxious mind has dug.

“I—it was just a kiss. What if he doesn’t want something serious right now, and I like him this way and he just wants something casual? I can’t do casual, Maki,” you say, raking a hand through your hair. “And it could fuck up this thing we have going. Yuji and Toge get along so well, and Nobara and the boys and Kirara, and Megumi’s your cousin, and I don’t wanna cause some weird, awkward rift, you know what I mean?”

Because it’s been so good, getting to know them. You don’t want to fuck up the dynamic just because you caught feelings too fast.

Maki leans back against your wall, humming as she thinks this over. “Okay. First of all, take a step back. Do you actually think you and Ino dating or not dating or whatever would mean I stop talking to my cousin? Or Nobara to the guys?” She raises a brow at you, unimpressed. “Seriously. I love you, Skipper, but you do not have that much power. These relationships existed before you knew Ino. Yuji is incapable of having conflict with anybody. And Toge doesn’t give a fuck about awkward relationship drama, he just wants to play Smash.”

As she speaks, you can feel your heart settling back into its home in your chest. Maki always knows what to say. Always.

“Second: Let me put it this way.” She levels you with a serious look. “You are so worked up about all these incredibly hypothetical situations. If you shut this down now, if you don’t act on what happened on Saturday, you’re still going to be worked up about hypotheticals. They’ll just be different ones. I know you, Skipper, you’re gonna drown yourself in what ifs. So you have to pick the lesser evil. There’s an unknown factor either way. Which one is gonna be worse?”

You groan, faceplanting into your bedspread. In the process, your forehead must hit play on your phone, because all of a sudden Arctic Monkeys blasts through the JBL again and Maki is grabbing your phone and saying, “Absolutely not. Nope. We are done with that.”

You look up at her helplessly. “Do I wanna know?” you choke out, half-laughing. “Because if I’m taking this out of proportion, if he doesn’t feel this way and I’m just another girl he kissed—”

“You’re not,” she says firmly. “Are you kidding me? Skip. That boy kisses the ground you walk on.” She shakes her head, some mix of fondness of exasperation flashing across her face. “You already know. The question isn’t if he likes you, or if you like him. It’s whether you’re gonna let it play out or shut it down before it has a chance to.”

Your door slams open, and Nobara strolls in and puts her hands on her hips. She glares at Maki and then at you.

“Please tell me I’m wrong,” she says, and you know you’re in for it, “but I believe you both had significant relationship developments this weekend and didn’t immediately call me? What the fuck? Spill.”

Abruptly, you feel like the worst friend in the world. Not necessarily because you haven’t filled Nobara in—she hasn’t been home—but because Maki is flushing pink, and you left her alone with Yuta on purpose, and it’s Monday, and you haven’t even asked what happened.

You look at Nobara. “Close the door.”

She does, but she doesn’t sit down, choosing instead to pace the room as she speaks. “Exhibit A: the plants have name tags and the handwriting is not Yuta’s. Exhibit B: I just came from down the street and Ino is acting weird as fuck.”

You sit straight up, suddenly on high alert. “Weird how? Did he say anything?”

“No. Like, the entire time. That’s the weird as fuck part.”

You turn to Maki, trying to read her. “Okay, what happened with Yuta? Was it when I left? Because if I wasn’t obvious enough—“

“You were very obvious, thank you,” Maki says, her blush deepening. “Uh, we made dinner. As you know.”

“It was good.”

Maki is pointedly looking everywhere but at you and Nobara, gaze darting from the ceiling to the bedspread to the door, as if she might escape the conversation. You hadn’t even noticed the plant name tags. That’s maybe the most sappy gesture that’s ever come from Maki Zenin.

“Mm. Yeah. Uh,” she says, eloquently. “We might have kissed. We might be… together.”

“Maki!” you and Nobara both scream, which results in Toge nearly breaking down your bedroom door five seconds later.

“What?” he demands. He clocks Maki’s bright red face and grins widely. “Aha! Yes. Good.”

“Wh—”

“Yuta won’t look me in the eyes, so I figured. You wanted to tell us all at once?”

Maki nods sheepishly.

“Too late!” Toge says cheerfully. “And he’s not home. So we can take this quality girls’ time to—”

“You are a man.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me,” Toge tells Nobara, hand over his heart.

She swats at him in response and flops onto your floor, and Toge drops down beside her, you and Maki leaning over the edge of your bed to see them both.

"I ate your love pasta," you tell Maki, and she groans.

"This is why I don't tell you people things."

After the appropriate appoint of freaking out about Maki and Yuta (of course I knew, I always know, Nobara says), they make you go through the whole of Saturday night in detail.

You leave out the part about Takuma’s dad. That doesn’t feel like your story to tell.

When you get to I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Nobara blinks at you, and the innocent expression on her face means whatever she’s about to say is anything but. “So he told you you’re not like other girls?”

“Oh my god,” you groan, dragging your hands down your face.

“Oh, shit, Skipper!” Toge nearly shouts from the floor. “We have to go, like, two minutes ago.”

“Shit!” You scramble off the bed, shoving your laptop into your bag and weaving around Nobara, who has made no move to get off the floor. You and Toge have your usual Monday night class time to do field reporting, and you’re meeting up with Geto and Utahime.

The front door clicks open and closed, and you grin at Maki, who goes red. Yuta’s home. God, you wish you could stay for this.

“Hi, Yuta! Bye, Yuta!” you call on the way out the door, patting him on the head, and Toge follows suit with a much more aggressive motion that messes up Yuta’s hair.

“Oh, hi! Um. Bye?” Yuta’s startled laugh follows you out the door, and then you’re on your way.

You’re always on your way back to The Fix, eventually.

—

Utahime, notably a happier person in general when Gojo’s not around, lets Toge into the back to get some photos of the storeroom. That leaves you alone with Geto, back on the same stool as last time, phone on the counter as you watch him work, talking as he goes.

“Finished inventory,” he says, typing something rapidly on his laptop, “and now it’s budgeting. And yeah, that’s about what it looks like on the day to day. What else did you want to know?”

Geto is remarkably easy to talk to. He’s soft-spoken and articulate, a good listener, and you find yourself forgetting it’s an interview after a while, lost in conversation. You learn that he studied business in school, so opening an establishment like this wasn’t much of a stretch. He handles the finances and hiring, and he’s the one working with Panda on the Battle of the Bands. Gojo and Utahime bartend, Nanami is security, and Shoko handles everything else. It’s a small team, he says, but they work.

“I wanted to be able to be home for the girls when they were growing up, and this wound up being a great way to do that, schedule-wise,” he tells you. “And now they’re here, which is great. I wouldn’t say I ever saw myself opening a bar, back in college, but now that I’m here and Shoko and I have been running the place for a while, I’m not sure where else I ever could’ve ended up, y’know?”

You nod, head propped in your hand with your elbow on the counter. “So is this the dream? The endgame?” you ask. “Think you’ll stay a while?”

“Well,” he says, closing the laptop, “I think it comes down to doing something because you love it, not because other people love that you do it. Though right now, both of those things are true, which is fortunate for me." He leans on the bar counter, head tilted as he considers his words.

"If the work makes you happy, if the people there make you feel the same way, I think that’s worth hanging on to," he says. "If I ever stop loving the work, I suppose I’ll move on. I don’t see that happening, really, but if it does, I’ll roll with it. Whatever comes after.”

“That makes sense.” You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Man, I wish the career thing was that clear-cut now. I know I have time, but it’s weird to think about.”

“Would you ever go further than this with the band, you think?” he asks, seeming genuinely curious. “Or is the journalism thing pretty much what your heart’s set on?”

You’ve thought about it. Drumming makes you feel alive like very few other things do, but you love writing, reporting, meeting people and telling their stories. You want to go for editor-in-chief next year when Tsumiki graduates, but the reality is that you won’t have so much time for the band if you get the job. And you love your band.

Not that it’ll be the same, anyway, without Maki and Yuta. That’s something you don’t love to think about.

“I don’t know,” you confess, sheepishly realizing you’re still recording, that you’re supposed to be the one asking the questions. “I don’t think… that the band is ever necessarily going to be a professional thing. Maki and Yuta have all these big career plans. And it’s like, how much do I invest in that now, knowing it’s not… forever? When the journalism thing, the career, might be? I don’t know.”

“You know, I don’t think it matters all that much whether it’s forever,” Geto shrugs. “If it gave you what you needed at the time, wouldn’t it be worth it?”

He glances up at you, taking in the lines of your face, the tapping of your fingers against your other arm. You kind of feel like he sees something you don’t.

“Here’s some unsolicited advice, kid. On the record. Maybe life is short, maybe not. But regardless, your heart is not a finite thing.” His eyes are soft but not sad, serious but with a sort of levity that’s wise and not regretful. You think, idly, that you would find it very hard not to trust him. “If you’ve got something, love it while you have it.”

Something tells you he’s not talking about the band anymore. Or maybe that’s just you, looking for answers where there aren’t any.

“Thanks, Geto,” you say, turning off the recording. “This has been really helpful.”

Your heart is not a finite thing. And you think you’ve made up your mind.

directory | prev. | next.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222

a/n: what is this? setup for the megumi spinoff i'm writing after this? oo (sorry he was a cockblock it was for the plot, this one AND his, hehe)

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bloodyinkandquill · 8 months ago

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Windforce x Reader

no one requested this. i just wanted to write this, also my requests have been open for over four hours and no one’s sent one, very surprising, anyways im on a windforce yume rn so have this since there are three other windforce x reader’s on tumblr that ive found and that’s sad

- “You’re dating her?! Do you have a death wish?!” ‘Mayhaps’

- Maybe dating the most quick to anger and destructive deity wasn’t your best idea but who cares, Windforce has a soft spot for you and tries her hardest not to hurt you, she treats you gentler then her son but has the same soft spot for the both of you, which is very surprising given her apparent distaste for mortals, though somehow in her eyes you were different, and she loved it, she loved you, everything about you even if many of your ‘mortal customs’ were perplexing to her

- She’s eaten before sure, but that was like, three centuries ago, so onetime when you decided to make yourself a grilled cheese she looked on very curious, asking what each component was for, you patiently explained it and when you finished you offered her a bite, you had to make yourself a new grilled cheese after that because she ate the entire thing, you introduced her to food and she was crazy for it, if you ever cooked you had to make sure to make extra so she could have some, her favorites were things with bread in them or spicy dishes, one time you got green chile rolls and it changed her world (please tell me these aren’t just a new mexico thing more people need to know about green chile rolls)

- You have to let her know if she’s hurting you, she forgets to watch her strength and forgets that you are small and squishy, if she’s not careful she can definitely injure you so you have to let her know if she’s holding you too tight, she never directly apologizes but you know she’s sorry, she just has too much pride to apologize

- Speaking of her pride she’s very egotistical so when you do something to fluster her as though you have some sort of power over her, it makes you feel a little powerful, she’s usually very stoic but if you kiss all over her face, especially with lipstick on, her brain fries, you laugh at her and she grumbles but she likes it too much to tell you to stop, unless your with anyone else she doesn’t want to appear weak, especially to a mortal

- Windforce uses her lightning to protect you, almost anytime she deems you in a ‘dangerous situation’ (she’s very bad at telling danger) she will create a thunderstorm, though she gives you a small glass container with pure light inside, for if she’s busy with godly duties and doesn’t know you’re in danger you can break it, smash it, whatever, and it will cause lightning around you, but specifically avoiding you, you turned it into a necklace for easiest use

- Ban Hammer is confused by you, his mom never liked mortals and suddenly she’s dating one? He does not understand in the slightest but you make his mom happy so he doesn’t bug about it, she also constantly tells you stories about him, embarrassing photos and funny accidents galore when he was a child demi-deity, if he’s around when she does so he gets embarrassed and whines for her to stop, it’s an odd side to see of the big bad warden but it’s also funny so you don’t care

- You watch her work out, every piece of equipment she owns is too heavy for you so you just watch or maybe do basic stretches or yoga, but watching her work out is not a bad sight in a slightest, you hand her a towel to wipe off with, she doesn’t need water, I mean neither do you, but on occasion you still offer it, she usually declines she finds the sensation of drinking to feel weird

- On only one occasion you saw her truly angry, someone had incited her wrath and it was terrifying, and maybe a little arousing, it was the only time she ever said sorry, for scaring you since she knows her more divine form is a lot scarier than her usual form, you said it was fine but made a mental note to never get her that angry

- Not the touchiest but she definitely loves giving you bear hugs, though you have to remind her to watch her strength when she does, she does also enjoy kissing you but she’s a biter, watch out for that

- Windforce’s love language is not entirely clear, maybe quality time? You cannot tell and she doesn’t know either

- You don’t really do dates per say, you hang out and do things together but it’s never like a planned typical thing, so you could sort of call it dates but you don’t really do them, you don’t mind though because you know she loves you and you don’t need to go on extravagant dates to know that

yippee!!! i also got one request so lemme answer that after i post this, working on a project for one of my classes of billie holiday i should be working on that rn but oh well i have a few more days

#x reader #phighting x reader #phighting #phighting!#windforce #windforce phighting #phighting windforce #windforce x reader #phighting windforce x reader #windforce x reader phighting

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andy-wm · 1 year ago

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Why is Bam on insta?

This thought flashed in my head when i saw the most recent photos of Bam.

Maybe I'm just slow and everyone else figured this out already but maybe not, so I’m sharing it.

The Bam insta account isn't just a fun side project set up by JK while he’s doing military service. He doesn't even have an account for himself*, so why would he make one for his puppy? It's not like he needs (or wants?) more followers or influence, and he could have just used his t1ct0k, where hes already got gazillions of followers.

When bowwow_bam first appeared, many comments suggested he created it to keep in touch with ARMY while he's serving in the military. And yes he DID share the account with ARMY on weverse, but I doubt that's the reason it exists.

Bowwow_bam is not for ARMY...

The photos JK gets from the training centre let him know that Bam is happy and well cared for.

Even though Bam has been in and out of the training centre often while JK has had his schedules, those stays were brief compared to 18 months. This time, Bam will basically be living there full time, long term.

Maybe this is why JK sent Bam to the training centre so often in the past, when he might have left Bam with friends or family instead. That way, the training centre became familiar to Bam before his long term stay.

Bowwow_bam is for JK

Bam's photos are likely sent to JK directly, so why post them to a public platform? And why post ONLY these?

Why?

Sure, it's a good way for JK to stay connected to ARMY with minimal effort. Let's not be foolish enough to think he doesn't care about that. It's pretty clear he wants to pick up his career where he left off when he comes back. (It goes without saying that BTS - and JK - will still have millions of fans after MS.)

But i don't believe thats the only reason Bam has an insta account, and i dont think it's the most significant reason either.

There are so many ways JK could have maintained a socials presence. If he wanted to be on insta, even just reposting old content would keep him at the forefront of ARMY's mind... if he had an insta account* that is.

It also got me thinking about what JK will be doing with his time off.

He isn't all that close to his family, he tells us. And most of his friends are idols, from what we see (although that could be selective information), so probably insanely busy with their own schedules. And his Bangtan brothers, his found family, are also doing their service. And he and Jimin are apparently on different shifts (if the information we have is correct).

So who is he connecting wiith?

Who is his link to home and normality?

This doggo right here is.

Besides letting JK know that Bam is happy and well cared for, the photos connect JK to home and give him something tangible to look forward to on the other side of his service.

They'd remind him that this episode of his life has an end date, that he has a place to return to, and that somebody is waiting for him to come home. Bam is waiting for him.

But why post them on instagram?

We know JK has a strong connection with ARMY. He's said many times that we're his safe place (debatable, honestly) and his happy place (I truly hope so). He's told us it's ARMY he talks to late at night when he's alone. He's also set clear boundaries about what he's prepared to share and how close we're allowed to come - although he blurs these lines himself sometimes... naked livestreams from his bed come to mind, but i digress...

I believe the insta account - Bam and ARMY together - is his anchor. This is his link back to his life before and after MS.

Sharing these photos from the training centre with his three (or four or five) million closest friends would validate for JK what his life has been, and will be again. It tells him we (like Bam) are still here, still waiting, without him ever having to ask.

It keeps that part of his life real for him.

Just to be clear,

I'm not downplaying the significance of Jimin and JK serving together in the companions program.

In my mind nothing could be more significant.

Jimin is with him day after exhausting day, just as he has been for the last twelve years. While that must be an enormous comfort to them both, these long and arduous days must still seem endless.

Getting through this difficult time with any sort of optimism would require something to look forward to, and recieving photos of Bam would give JK much happiness, and remind him that there is life outside of the camp.

They'd serve to remind him that at the end of it all he will see his beloved doggo in person...

...and that he and Jimin will go home and his little family will be whole again

💜🐰🐶🐥💛

*pretty sure he does tho...

~as always, opinions are my own and all of this is conjecture~

#jeon jungguk #park jimin #jikook #kookmin #국민 #true love #jeon bam #bam's dad #jimin and jungkook #bam's insta #bowwow bam #bts military service

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pascaloverx · 9 months ago

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NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading.

THREE FIVE

FOUR

You're trying to avoid looking directly at Steve while he enjoys an éclair and sips your mediocre coffee. In reality, you're pretending to be busy in the back of the bakery, hoping he'll leave without asking you anything else. Despite him being easy on the eyes, you're afraid he might be too persuasive, and you might accidentally give away Barnes, which would break his trust in you.

"You always knew your hands could make treats like these that seem to be made by angels?" Steve asks as he stands up from the small table where he was sitting. You smile slightly, finding his compliment to your baking skills sweet, though you're still on edge.

"In reality, my mother is a chef, so I was always inclined to work with cooking. Ironically, my mother isn't very fond of baking. But I fell in love with it, making some desserts and breads. To answer your question, I always knew I had to be good at something culinary, even if just as a hobby," you speak gently as you collect the plate and utensils that Steve used. When he hands them to you, your hands briefly touch. You notice that his hands are incredibly soft for a guy, and the sensation sends a slight shiver down your spine.

“Are you interested in going out today?” Steve asks, still close to you. At first, you think he might be joking, but he really seems to want to go out with you. However, something tells you that it's more out of suspicion than genuine interest.

“I don’t know your friend, and a date isn’t going to change that. I sincerely hope you find this Bucky of yours, but it won’t be with me.” You say, stepping away and likely sounding too blunt. What a hassle—having to turn away a handsome stranger to protect another handsome stranger.

“It’s clear when you’re lying. I saw your reaction to Barnes’s photo, which might be nothing, but it seems like something. So, go out with me and prove me wrong, or cowardly hide the fact that you know James Barnes. The choice is yours.” Rogers’s blue, maybe greenish eyes seem to pierce through you. He’d make a great priest, as something in his words eats away at your guilt. You’re lying to him, and it doesn’t feel fair. But he could be deceiving you, and you can’t take that risk.

"I close the bakery normally at six in the evening, if the business is slow. There's a restaurant right across the street; we can have pizza and maybe a glass of wine. You can interrogate me as much as you want. After that, this matter will be closed. Does that sound good?" You say, looking him straight in the eye, and then extend your hand towards him, waiting for him to seal the deal. He takes your hand firmly while looking at you with determination.

Steve then leans in close to you, almost as if he’s about to kiss you. It would be crazy, right? But then he whispers, "I’ll be at the restaurant at seven o'clock waiting for you. I believe you don’t want me to come to your place and find out what you're hiding from me. And by the way, tell Barnes it’s a shame he’s making such a beautiful woman turn into a big liar." Steve says, leaving you speechless before exiting your bakery.

The thought of finding Barnes's best friend and lying to him, while also accepting a date that seems both tempting and terrifying, distracts you for the rest of the day. So, an hour earlier than usual, you close your bakery and rush home, knowing you need to inform Barnes, Bucky, or whatever other name he goes by, that his best friend is searching for him. As soon as you enter your apartment, you rush to your bedroom, frantically searching for something to wear for your date with Steve. Your mind is in chaos, and no dress seems right for a man whose main interest in seeing you is to figure out if you're lying. On top of that, you're confused about why you're even in this situation—lying and acting like a criminal when you've done nothing wrong. All of this because a customer at your bakery is handsome enough to make you lose your sense of right and wrong. Suddenly, a wave of desperation washes over you. Amidst the clothes scattered on the floor, you reach into the pocket of your pants and pull out your phone. You dial the emergency number, feeling a wave of nausea, both metaphorical and literal. Are you really about to report Mr. Barnes? Well, you’re just telling the truth, right? It will probably lead to his arrest, maybe even worse... but that’s not your problem, is it?

"You can tell them I'm standing in your living room when they ask if you know where I am," a voice says from behind, startling you. James is standing there with his arms crossed, looking less than pleased. You quickly hang up the phone before the emergency line even picks up. Honestly, you feel like a rebellious child caught red-handed doing something wrong.

"How did you get in here?" you ask as you try to recover from the shock. Your hands tremble as your nerves take over. You're not sure if you're safe with Barnes or if he's the kind to seek revenge for an almost-betrayal.

"I came to check on you, see if everything was alright. I noticed you got here early, and I got worried… but it seems that was for nothing. You didn’t need to rush to your apartment just to turn me in. And don’t bother denying it." Barnes says, still standing there, his voice low and tense, sending chills down your spine. It’s clear you’ve struck a nerve—maybe his pride, maybe something deeper. You stare at him, searching for the right words to explain yourself.

"I won’t lie, I was going to turn you in. I’m not like you. The weight of knowing something that others don’t, it’s eating me alive. First, two agents showed up at the bakery looking for you, and now your best friend, who doesn’t seem like he's just here to catch up. I had a moment of weakness…" You trail off, not explicitly naming what you were about to do, though it’s painfully clear. You were ready to hand Barnes over to the authorities. He lets out a frustrated sigh, followed by a bitter smile. His eyes lock onto yours, and you feel exposed, almost tainted, under his gaze.

Barnes steps closer, extending his phone toward you since yours is still on the floor, discarded in your rush to hang up. You look at him, puzzled, unsure of what he wants you to do. "Clear your conscience, make the call. I promise I won’t resist," he sighs, waiting for you to take the phone from his hand. An unsettling feeling creeps over you, a weight of guilt, as if you’re betraying him in the worst way. His calm demeanor makes it even worse, and the thought of going through with it makes you feel like you're stabbing him in the back.

"Are you really going to let me turn you in just like that?" you ask softly, feeling a bit ashamed, knowing that no matter his answer, there’s something strangely intimate about him letting you be the one to hand him over. Maybe you’re losing your mind. Barnes looks at you for a long moment, his eyes softening just a little.

"If that’s what you need to do," he says quietly, "then go ahead. I won’t stop you." You can't help but feel a knot in your chest. The idea of having this power over him, of being the one who decides his fate, makes everything feel even more complicated.

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have acted like that. It wasn’t fair to try to turn you in; it was just too much pressure, I’m not used to this." You look at Barnes, regretful of what you might have done. His hand with the phone is in front of you, so you place both your hands under his and shake your head as if to say he can trust you, at least for a moment. He looks at you, then places the phone on the coffee table. He turns to you, placing his hand gently on your face and caressing your cheek. It’s so comforting that you close your eyes, feeling like you can finally breathe peacefully for the first time.

"You don’t have to carry this burden, not for me," he says softly. You’re still lost in the gentle touch of Barnes’ hand. You then open your eyes to find Barnes looking at you as if you were his most precious treasure. All the anger he seemed to be feeling earlier seems to have vanished.

"I'll go on the date with your best friend and try to throw him off. I hope you'll accept this as an apology," you say, looking into Barnes' blue eyes. He’s still standing right in front of you. "I don’t want you to expose yourself like this, Y/N. I can handle Steve my way. This life full of dangers and lies is mine; I never should have involved you in it," Barnes replies, pulling his hand away from you. His gaze is distant, and it saddens you in some way.

"Let me do this for you, then," you say almost weakly as you feel Barnes pulling away. "And then I'll leave you in peace." You can’t bear to look at Barnes anymore; instead, you gaze down at your feet.

“Look into my eyes, Y/N. And tell me, when you look at me, do you see a man who isn't at peace when he's with you?” There’s a melancholy in Barnes's voice, and you gather the courage to meet his gaze. He’s closer than you realized.

"I see a man who has a lot to hide. You must carry a burden much greater than mine. So let me help you; maybe I can be of use to you." You step closer to Barnes, and as he looks at you once more, you feel as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe or move. You’re sure you must be blushing, given how hot your body feels.

"Wear a dress that shows your legs; it’ll distract Rogers enough to make him forget why he’s interrogating you. Also, lie about trivial details. Tell him your favorite color is green, that you have two older brothers—something like that. He’ll analyze your facial expressions to see when you’re telling the truth or lying. It’ll confuse him. Try not to deny that you know me; just say you remember seeing me as one of your customers. He might be convinced." Barnes advises you, but doesn’t come any closer. He appears hesitant, as if struggling with conflicting thoughts. You nod in agreement without speaking. The silence in your apartment becomes painfully oppressive. You want to walk over to Barnes, to kiss him and perhaps make love on the cold floor of your apartment. But he doesn’t seem to feel the same way, as he turns and walks away, leaving you with a heavy heart.

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stabbyfoxandrew · 3 months ago

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Happy wipw! Could I request more of Demon!Neil or Arson!Neil, whichever gets fewer requests or whichever you're enjoying more? (Really digging the Demon!Neil worldbuilding :)

WIP Wednesday (2/19) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 281)

Jeremy's grand idea turned out to be sending 10 a photo of the four of them together.

Since Andrew is a foot shorter than the rest of them, it's difficult to position them all for a selfie. They try crouching behind him, but it doesn't make for a great photo. They just didn't fit that way. Even when Jeremy whipped out a selfie stick— ridiculously useless invention— and attached it to Andrew's phone, it was impossible to get a decent picture. The angles are all wrong. Andrew thinks perhaps short people should not befriend tall ones.

This is proved tenfold when Kevin finally takes it upon himself to hook Andrew under the arms and lift him off the ground. Andrew thrashes and kicks Kevin in the legs.

"Kevin Day, if you don't put me down within three seconds—"

"Just take the photo," Kevin tells him flatly. Andrew glares at him in the screen of his phone, but surprisingly this is working better than literally everything else they'd tried. Jeremy and Jean are both very close to laughter, Andrew can tell. But as he moves his thumb to take the photo, they all pull on their press-smiles. Jean's is stilted as always, but Kevin's and Jeremy's are perfectly dazzling. Andrew allows a slight curve to his own mouth.

After he takes the picture, Kevin finally sets him back on his feet.

"If you ever do that again, I will kill you." Andrew says, stabbing a finger in Kevin's face. Kevin merely shrugs.

"Okay. I have no reason to do it again anyway. Send that to your faceless, nameless man already."

Andrew wanders off into the living room to send the picture in peace. He chooses the nicest looking one— the one where you can't tell he's being held up like Simba's understudy— presses send, then taps out a small message to go with it.

Andrew I have been kidnapped by the Jaguars. Send help.

Andrew doesn't realize he's been followed until it's too late. There's a snicker over his shoulder and he whips his head around to see Jeremy and Jean posted at either of his sides. (Andrew maintains that tall people should not be allowed to befriend short people.) He glares at them.

"What?"

"His name is flame emoji." Jeremy says with a hundred-watt smile. "Does that mean he's hot?"

"Yes." Andrew says quickly. Totally. It means 10 is sexy, totally not that he's a literal arsonist.

"Isn't that so cute?" Jeremy asks Jean. Andrew wants to tell him to fuck off but before he has a chance, the French bastard grabs the phone right out of his hands. Andrew blinks, looking down at his now-empty hands, both shocked and impressed by Jean's daring death wish. Andrew snaps his fingers and holds his phone out in demand, but goes ignored.

"You messaged this man for the first time last night," Jean says, evidently having scrolled through their very short new conversation.

"Moreau, I will break your leg." Andrew says, reaching for his phone. Jean looks down his nose at Andrew before handing it over. "For your information, he got a new phone."

"What does 10 mean?" Jean asks at the same time Jeremy asks, "Did his other phone break?"

Andrew decides to answer the safer question. "His old one was an ancient slider phone. He upgraded so we—" Andrew cuts off.

"So you what?" Kevin asks, suddenly behind him.

"So we could do video calls."

"Oh my god! He got a new phone specifically for you," Jeremy shrieks directly into Andrew's eardrum. He squeals and Andrew doesn't think he was that excited when 10 revealed his new phone last night. Jean shakes his head at Jeremy's hysteria, but Kevin gives Andrew a look.

"Tell me who he is."

"No." Andrew counters.

"Andrew."

"Kevin. You seem to be under the impression that I am part of whatever this is. But I'm not. It's been made perfectly clear over the years that I am not. You're not my partner or my boyfriend or my warden. I am allowed to pursue men you don't know and you have to deal with it." Andrew says, at last shutting him up.

Kevin opens his mouth a couple of times but can't come up with anything apparently. After a moment, he storms off back into the other room with Jean on his heels.

#i'm glad you like the worldbuilding in demon neil!!! thank you!! <33 you get arson neil since it got less than demon for a change :)#btw kandrew have to be Weird in everything i write ever. or i will die. : )#i think the mer au is the only exception? like they don't know each other in it (yet) so i think they'll be normal in that but mer kevi is.#so far away #anyway! ilyyyy #aftg #WIP Wednesday #Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew #🕊️#answered #anon

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venerablemonk27 · 2 years ago

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I've done a lot of birding the past couple months and not a lot of posting, so I'm going back to our Tucson, AZ trip from April. I hadn't been to the Western US since picking up birding or wildlife photography, so I knew I was going to pick up a ton of lifers. One of our target species for the trip was also my fifth Owl species ever: the Burrowing Owl.

[ID: A Burrowing Owl stands on a mound of dirt. They are facing left and looking toward the camera. The sun is low in the sky off to the right, which illuminates the right side of the Owl's face and their back, while casting the rest in shadow. They have striking yellow eyes and a furrowed brow that gives them the appearance of a permanent scowl. Their oval-shaped head transitions naturally into a slender cylindrical body covered in mottled tan and white feathers. About half the bird's height is body and folded wings, with two naked grey legs planted on the ground. End ID]

This was the morning we had picked for me to do some solo birding, so I drove out to a spot west of Tucson where eBird indicated that Burrowing Owls were likely to appear. It was just after sunrise when I found the road cutting between farm fields where the Owls were reported. I drove slowly down the side of the road in my rented Dodge Charger, stopping occasionally to inspect a suspicious clump of dirt with my binoculars. I had not seen any sign of the Owls when a Land Rover pulled up behind me. A group of three folks in their 60s with binoculars piled out of car, clearly more birders here to do exactly what I was doing.

[ID: A Burrowing Owl stands on a mound of dirt, facing the camera. The sun is still low in the sky, but now the bird's face and chest are more brightly lit, showing the transition in feather colors from tan to mottled tan to white as they progress downward from collar to belly.]

They introduced themselves as coming from the UK, and had been visiting Arizona for several weeks in search of all the unique birds the state could offer. The driver was particularly puzzled about the location of the Owls, saying he was "absolutely foxed" that this place with no real habitat could host Burrowing Owls. I showed him the recent sightings on eBird and explained that it was possible the birds just hadn't emerged from their burrows yet.

After another 15 minutes of searching the fields, I offered to lead them to an alternate site nearby. We got in our cars and slowly drove back the way we had come. Just as we were approaching the end of the road, I spotted a small tan creature standing right on the edge of the irrigation ditch along the near side of the field. A Burrowing Owl! I swung the Charger around and flagged down my companions, who had also spotted the Owl.

[ID: A pair of Burrowing Owls stand on a mound of dirt. The one in the foreground looks decidedly sleepier and plumper than the one in the background (seen in previous images). Both Owls are similar in coloration, but the one in the foreground has an aluminum leg band for identifying them. End ID]

We got out to take a look and grab some photos from long distance, then slowly crept forward with my Charger as a rolling blind. There turned out to be four Owls spread out along the irrigation ditch, likely close to their burrows which were out of sight. They were surprisingly unbothered by the cars rolling up to them, probably because they see trucks and farm vehicles driving past all day every day. Once we were directly across the irrigation ditch from the closest pair, I climbed into the passenger seat to take some better photosm. Mostly the Owls just stood on their tiny hill and looked around. Though I did witness one of the pair above fly down to pounce on a grasshopper, then return to feed it to their partner.

[ID: A pair of Burrowing Owls stand on a mound of dirt. This photo was taken midday, with the sun directly overhead. At least one of these individuals is different from those above, as they have two leg bands instead of one. It's also apparent in the photo that the Owls are standing at the edge of a farm field from the row of green plants out of focus in the background. End ID]

I had such a great view of the Burrowing Owls that I had to bring my family back to see them on our last day in Tucson. Because we were heading out of town in the middle of the day, I was confident we'd find them right away and avoid testing the patience of my kid. It turns out I didn't have to worry. Not only were the Owls right where I left them, but the kid had fallen asleep on the drive, so we had to wake him up to see them! And seeing as I already had the camera within easy reach, I had to take a few more photos.

[ID: A Burrowing Owl stands on a mound of dirt. This one is looking alert in the midday sun, standing and scanning the area around the edge of the farm field. End ID]

On a trip full of exciting views, long hikes, and thousands of photos, it was nice to finish the trip quietly sitting in the car just a few yards away from such a compelling bird. And it always feels good to track down a lifer and share that experience with others!

#bird #birding #birds #bird photography #birdblr #birdlife #photography #birdwatching #close encounter #original photography #original photography on tumblr #owl #burrowing owl #arizona #there's simply nothing around here that looks like habitat

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thebroccolination · 3 months ago

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THE EX-MORNING Q11: LOVE SCENE TIME!

Okay, WELL! I signed off in my Q10 post yesterday with an assumption that I'd see y'all again next Monday, since shooting has generally fallen on a Mon/Tues pattern.

But then I woke up close to 4am with a feeling that I should check Instagram, and when I did, behold!

A SURPRISE Q11 APPEARED ON THE SCENE!!!

Okay SO! Before we continue, I have a guess about those dried sunflowers.

On Valentine's Day, the official Ex-Morning account shared the two photos below of Tamtawan giving a sunflower to Pathapi in their uni days. I'm guessing it was their last year of uni before Tam broke up with Pathapi.

Yesterday, we learned in the behind-the-scenes footage from Livehouse that they were filming in the house that belongs to Tam, and since there are four sunflowers in that vase, I'm going to guess that giving a sunflower was an annual tradition for them when they were dating, either on Valentine's Day or for their anniversary or some other occasion between them.

Obviously, if Tam kept them all these years, he still cares for Pathapi. Which means I'm going to be beyond feral about these two. Not that anyone suspected otherwise.

We also got this beautiful, melancholic shot from the official account with Pathapi and Tam facing each other. I'm going to guess this is a flashback since KristSingto seem to be styled more casually when their characters are younger versus the more expensive clothes they wear when they're older and more established in their careers and finances.

[Twitter Caption: “‘The more we fight, the more we understand each other.’ Is that true?”]

Aaand of course, The Love Scene™️! (A second one, maybe? I feel like there might've been one before this in Q4, or else they were just hanging out in bed together. This series is aiming directly at my soul, I swear. The yearning. The mature, pining domesticity of it all!!!)

In the second clip, Camera Chef Nidchaya visibly struggles to angle the camera, twisting both spine and physics, with perhaps the most entertaining faces of horror as balance is lost in the The Heat of the Moment.

If it hasn't shown by now, I'm becoming a genuine fan of Nidchaya. GMMTV, please hire Nidchaya on all the things.

AND OF COURSE, WE GOT MORE SOSAY:

If this cat doesn't go home with Singto after filming, I'll be sad for me because I love this cat already. I'm also, like, a billion percent sure we're gonna get merch of this cat. Be My Favorite had Nong Kawi, The Ex-Morning will have Sosay.

(They also need to make a retroactive gear plushie for SOTUS's tenth anniversary, just saying.)

Aaaand it seems like they wrapped at their usual 9pm! With cars. At night.

Literally every time they show a set at night around cars, I think it's the car crash scene from the teaser.

I know they revised the script but I need them to keep that in. I have so many fic ideas.

And that was Q11!

NO idea when I'll update next now! Probably Monday, though? Maybe? Everything's in chaos now! Last week they filmed Tues/Wed, and this week we got THREE Qs! Absolute unpredictable madness. What a delight. \:D/

See y'all at some point for Q12! <3

#special reporter kiranokira #krist perawat #singto prachaya #kristsingto #the ex morning

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pollymorgan · 10 months ago

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Ex-Husband Negan Part 11

It was naturally impossible to keep the renewed relationship with my ex-husband a secret from our daughters. How could I? After all, we're talking about Negan, whom I had once again gotten involved with.

At some point, he showed up at our doorstep to surprise us. And it was with a trip to Mexico for the four of us. I had no idea where he got the money from again. But our girls were thrilled, and I knew we would never be able to hide our relationship for 10 days. So I was honest with them and hoped that this time it would really work, even though I was more than skeptical myself.

The hotel was stunning, a beautiful property with a huge spa area, and even the flight there was incredible fun. There's just nothing better than watching Negan make our daughters laugh. So I decided not to be a party pooper anymore and just enjoy this vacation with my family.

The first two days were spent soaking up the sun, enjoying the pool and the beach, and eating delicious food. Everything was perfect, and life felt so easy after everything that had happened in the past few weeks. The breakup with my ex-partner, the dispute over our shared house, the terrible atmosphere at work because Steve and I are colleagues on top of everything else, and finally the self-doubt I had for getting involved with Negan again. I often wondered, shouldn't I know better by now? But right now, those thoughts and worries were blown away, and it did wonders for my soul.

On the third day of our vacation, Negan wanted to go diving with Lizzie and Gracie. The mere thought of being dependent on a small oxygen device underwater terrified me. So I decided to stay at the hotel and treat myself to a day of wellness. My family tried to convince me to at least come along. After all, the trip was planned for the whole day, and they wanted me to overcome my fears. But all their coaxing didn't help. I was determined that nobody could get me to put my head underwater.

So I bid farewell to the three in the morning when they were picked up in front of the hotel, feeling a bit uneasy. But I knew Negan would take good care of our girls. He always had, without fail.

I made full use of all the spa offerings at the hotel throughout the day: massages, pedicures, manicures, facials... the whole shebang. It felt heavenly. When I got ready for dinner in the evening, I felt completely comfortable in my skin. I slipped into a short blue dress with white stripes, one shoulder bare. I styled my long dark hair slightly wavy, even though I knew it was probably futile due to the humidity and they would probably not look the same after five minutes.

After dinner, I decided to sit in the beach bar for a while and end my "me-day" there until my family returned.

I sat directly at the bar on a stool because I didn't want to occupy a whole table by myself. As I took a sip of my admittedly strong Caipirinha, I was glad I had eaten well beforehand. Otherwise, the drink would probably have gone to my head even faster than it already had. I took out my phone from my bag to sort through some vacation photos. I felt like I had already taken 1000 photos in the first two days. So I edited, deleted, and moved the pictures on my screen while enjoying my cocktail, lost in thought. When I came across a candid shot, I swiped as quickly as I could. Still, I glanced around quickly to see if anyone had just looked at my phone. Luckily, no one did, but my cheeks still heated up even more, from the alcohol and the heat.

Negan had taken a photo of me last night, giving him a blowjob. And I was so sure he had deleted it again. This guy! What was he thinking? After all, it was not unlikely that our daughters would also look at the pictures. Still, I couldn't help but smile.

Next to me at the bar sat a very elegantly dressed couple around my age. They caught my eye from the start, just like probably everyone else. Their light-colored clothes were perfectly coordinated and looked like they were from a fashion magazine. It wasn't over the top, just elegant and stylish. At some point, the lady left her place, and I looked up in surprise when I noticed the man moved a stool over after a few minutes and now sat next to me.

When I looked at him, his bright blue eyes met mine directly, surrounded by small laugh lines on his tanned skin. He raised his glass and toasted me. What a damn jerk! His wife had just left, and he was already flirting with the next person, and I thought, only one could be so bold...

So I tried to ignore him and focus back on my phone.

"So grumpy in such a beautiful place?" he suddenly asked, his voice sounding like that of an audiobook narrator. Was he actually one? An audiobook narrator? It somehow seemed fitting, but what do audiobook narrators typically look like? You don't see them often... Stop, why was I even thinking about this random stranger, about whom I knew nothing, except that his eyes resembled the ocean and he seemed like quite the jerk...

As a light breeze passed by, I caught a whiff of a woody, exotic scent of patchouli. The man not only had a great sense of style but also knew his perfumes.

"If the drinks weren't all-inclusive, I would have liked to invite you for one. Maybe..." I quickly interrupted him, "Sorry, I think you should find someone else or go back to your wife..."

He looked completely baffled. "My wife? I don't understand... Oh, you mean my sister Claire?! Who was just sitting here..."

I shook my head in annoyance. Sister? What a bold lie. Had Negan ever pulled something like that too? Passing me off as his sister...? The thought didn't seem too far-fetched.

The man beside me immediately sensed that I didn't believe him. "Claire and I are twins. We're here in Mexico because her daughter is getting married... My wife, well I mean... I've been a widower for almost a year. That's probably why my flirting skills are so rusty. Please excuse me!"

I saw his clear eyes slightly mist up in an instant. Oh man, how insensitive had I been? Had Negan's behavior already damaged me to the point where I saw the worst in every man? Feeling embarrassed, I turned to the stranger and apologized meekly. But luckily, the man didn't seem to hold it against me and grinned at me. I noticed how he subtly scanned me from head to toe in seconds. He did it skillfully, but I didn't miss it. However, it wasn't uncomfortable, on the contrary, it even boosted my ego a bit.

He introduced himself as Jacob, and after ordering another drink, we decided to take a seat at one of the tables to have a better conversation. What did I hope to gain from this? Nothing! Honestly, I hadn't thought about it. He just seemed like an interesting, open person, and I wanted to know more about him. After he had shared a bit about himself, without sounding arrogant, he asked me if I was here alone. I don't know why I hesitated for a moment before answering, but then I said, "No, here with my family..."

His face momentarily hardened, but then he smiled again, albeit not as naturally as before. "So, married...?" he inquired, leaning back in his chair to create more distance between us.

I looked at him thoughtfully and truthfully replied, "Well, it's complicated..."

He nodded as if he understood what I was trying to convey, even though I didn't quite get it myself. "Kids?" he asked instead.

"Two wonderful daughters and you?“ I grinned.

"A not always so wonderful son..." he laughed honestly and told me about some escapades of his offspring, which were all more or less harmless but damn funny.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder that grabbed me somewhat roughly. Startled, I looked up and met Negan's dark eyes, which were glaring at me.

I felt caught, but caught at what exactly? After all, I was just having a conversation. Still, I automatically held my breath.

"Wow, looks like you're having a lot of fun... What's so funny here, my love? I want to laugh too..." he said, and his voice sounded even deeper than usual, sending a slight shiver down my body.

Jacob tried to say something to defuse the situation, but Negan immediately cut him off. "I'm talking to my wife, not with a George Clooney Double for the visually impaired..."

"Negan!" I scolded him sternly, although I had little hope that it would do any good.

Unfazed, he took a seat at the empty chair at our table, and I knew this whole situation was not going to end well...

I have a question. In what situations or flashbacks would you still like to see the two of them? Please give me some inspirations. Thank you for your feedback!🥰🤗

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fyonahmacnally · 29 days ago

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Forged by Fire - Chapter 12

True to her word, Kelly has people there within the hour. Imra calls for them to open the back gate and backs a van onto the drive. Two other familiar faces are standing next to her on the back patio when Kelly opens the door. Mike Matthews and Siobhan Smythe. When they all step inside, Kelly turns to Kara and says, “I figured it would be best if it was people you were at least familiar with, people that have been here before.”

Kara nods, watching as the three of them stand in the kitchen. She grabs the briefcase from the coffee table and passes it along to Imra. “This is all of the drugs, photos, flash drives, documents, and voice recorders. The guns are upstairs, it’ll likely take several trips to get them all.”

Lena steps up next to Kara, nodding at Siobhan in greeting before wrapping her hand around her best friend’s bicep. “We’ll show you upstairs to the arsenal.”

With that, Siobhan, Mike, and Imra follow the two of them upstairs. The only conversation between them is directly related to the removal of the guns. When they enter the closet, Imra lets out a whistle of disbelief and Mike a quiet ‘damn’ before everyone grabs two long guns each.

On the second trip, Alex and Kelly join them. With the extra hands, they’re able to remove all the long guns in two trips. It doesn’t take long for the group to clear the handguns, still very little conversation between anyone. Imra, Mike, Siobhan, and Kelly talk amongst themselves, but Alex, Kara, and Lena remain silent. Within an hour and a half, Imra, Mike, and Siobhan are gone along with all the shit James left behind.

The four of them stand on the patio watching the van drive away, Kara waiting to close the gate behind them. They stare in silence as the blonde activates the lock when Alex speaks. “You know, I realize this means everything should be over, but I still feel like the other shoe is going to drop at any minute.”

Kelly and Lena hum in agreement as Kara rejoins them and everyone steps back inside. All four of them stand in awkward silence for a solid thirty seconds before Lena speaks up. “I’ve had far too much scotch to stand in the middle of the kitchen when I can sit comfortably on the couch.” Without another word, she strolls back to her place on the couch and drops onto the cushion.

When all of them are back in their previous positions, Kara breaks the ice. “I’m not sure this is really over. The fact we know the inner workings of The Oath Brokers makes us a liability to them. Sure, we gave them the information back, but they have to know we’ve seen it.”

“Agreed.” Lena nods, leaning closer to Kara on the couch. “You two may not have seen the actual contents of the case or heard any of the recordings, but they don’t know that. As far as they know, all four of us are aware.”

Kelly sighs, running her hands down her jean clad thighs. “I trust Imra and Siobhan not to disclose anything. The wild card is Mike. He’s gotten in trouble a few times for going rogue. There’s a reason he and James were such good friends.” She shakes her head as if she remembers something. “Mike and Imra have a history, he’s slightly terrified of her so I think she will keep him in line. If not, he’ll end up on the same list James did. Edge and his men don’t fuck around when it comes to their business.”

“See, that’s what worries me. Do you think they’ll come after any of us for what they think we know?” Alex inquires, her legs bouncing in defiance of her calm countenance. “How the hell did you get involved with them, anyway?”

A resigned groan crawls from Kelly’s throat. “Long story short, my father got mixed up with them right after our parents got married. Like James, he was a bit arrogant and acted like he was invincible. The Oath Brokers caught him skimming profits and attempting to do his own thing one too many times.”

She pauses as her eyes drift to the wall before she continues, “They slit his throat when I was eleven and James was thirteen. The only way they would leave our mother out of it was by requiring both James and I to ‘enlist’ with them to repay the debt. James was all in, but I avoided it like the plague. For the most part, they left me alone unless they needed me to wrangle my brother in.”

“Has he ever pushed them as far as he did this time?” Lena asks, snuggling further into Kara’s side as the blonde wraps an arm around her.

“He’s come close. I’ve had to get involved at least two other times and cash in some favors to keep him alive. He would always promise it was the last time. Blah blah blah.” She lifts her hand to her face to wipe away errant tears. “I knew the moment I found out what he was doing to you there was no going back, Kara. He would never leave you alone. Plus, his greed and arrogance would never allow him to stop his side hustle. It was always going to end this way.”

Kara glances at Lena before she chimes in, “You’re not wrong, you know. When we were going through the house to make sure we found everything he stashed, there was a lock box with fake identities. Two for each of us and a bunch of cash. My gut tells me he planned to force me on the run with him.” A shiver runs down her spine at the thought. “When I…umm, when I told him about the pregnancy, his first response was anger. After that, it was possession. He told me he owned me since I was carrying his baby.”

The room is eerily silent when Kara finishes speaking. She hadn’t planned to say any of that, but it feels good to get it off her chest. There’s one more thing she needs to say out loud, one more thing she hasn’t spoken outside her own mind. Not even to her best friend. Now that James is gone, maybe it’s time to speak her truth out loud.

“What I am about to say might seem horrible, it might be something you never thought I would say. Just know I don’t say it lightly.” The blonde says, a shaky breath accompanying her fidgeting hand. “When I woke up in the hospital and found out I lost the baby, I was glad. I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t sad. I was elated. Not just because I didn’t want to be tied to him, but also because…”

A broken sob rockets from her chest as she collapses into Lena. Alex and Kelly practically bolt over to her as well. By the time Kara is calm enough to speak again, Alex, Kelly, and Lena have tears in their eyes as well. All of them readjust on the couch. Kara and Lena in the middle with Alex next to Kara and Kelly on the other side of Lena.

Alex hands her sister a tissue from the box on the coffee table before asking, “Do you need to take a break? You don’t have to tell us anything you aren’t ready to, Kara. You’ve been through a lot in the last few months, years even. It’s okay if you need to wait.”

Blowing her nose into the tissue, she shakes her head. With a sniffle and a small nod to herself, she lays her head on Lena’s shoulder. “I know, Alex, but I need to say it out loud. I’ve avoided it for months because it makes it real. You guys are right, James is gone and he can’t hurt me anymore. I need to say this for myself. ”

Another sniffle and a shaky exhale, then the words she’s been waiting to confess, “The night I got pregnant was during one of his tirades. He, um, he forced himself on me after he beat me pretty badly. It was one of the worst beatings in a while. It started as him punching and choking me then got progressively worse. I honestly don’t remember what set him off that night, but I’ll never forget how it ended.”

When her voice trails off, the silence around her is deafening. She’s not sure what she expected after a confession like that, but the quiet is making her uneasy. Just as she is about to fill the silence, Lena speaks.

“Darling, I hope you know and understand none of this was your fault. Not a single part of it. What you’re feeling, how you felt in the hospital, all of it is valid.” She pulls the blonde closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “None of us will judge you or think differently of you for feeling relieved about losing the baby. Even though James is gone, the scars from the trauma are still there. We’re here to help you heal.”

Kelly reaches across Lena to place a hand on top of Kara’s knee. Tears are streaming down her face, misplaced guilt swimming in her eyes. “If I could take it all away from you, Kara, I would. My brother never deserved you. I promise I will do whatever I can to make things better from her on out. I’m so sorry.”

“No, Kelly. You have nothing to apologize for. James made his own choices, forged his own path. He was never going to listen to anyone else no matter what consequences he suffered.” Kara wearily says, her hand sitting on top of her sister-in-law’s. “In the end, you’re the reason I’m free from him. That’s something I couldn’t do on my own. Without you, Alex, and Lena, it scares me to think about what would have happened.”

Alex leans forward, adding her own hand to the top of the pile. “That’s what we’re here for, Kara. We all protect each other. I think we’ve proven as much in the last couple of weeks.” A humorless laugh escapes her mouth as she rests her head against her sister’s back. “On that note, I think Kelly and I are going to take our leave. We obviously have a lot of things we need to sort out ourselves. I just found out my wife is an associate of The Oath Brokers and we both committed crimes. Not your average Saturday night conversation.”

The four of them chuckle. It’s a weak sound, but it breaks the tension as they all stand. Kara and Lena walk them to the door where they all exchange hugs and agree to dinner at Alex and Kelly’s place the following evening. Once the door is closed and locked, the two of them mosey into the kitchen to warm up something for dinner.

They move around one another in peaceful quietude, like they’ve done thousands of times before. It seems no matter where they are or what they are doing, the two of them gravitate toward one other. Shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip, they share the task of making their plates. Leftover zuppa toscana soup Siobhan made, it’s the last of the meals and it makes Kara wonder if she or Eve will ever be back.

Moving to the other side of the island, they each relax onto a bar stool to eat in comfortable silence. It’s nothing new for them, they’ve eaten next to each other without speaking countless times. For them, it’s a calm companionship. Almost as if every single molecule in their souls vibrates at the same frequency. They understand what’s being said without words, speaking a soundless language their hearts learned ages ago.

Once their food is finished and the dishes are done, they clean up the remnants of the intense and draining confessional with Alex and Kelly. It seems Lena is the only one that didn’t share a secret. Locking up and shutting off lights, they ascend the stairs side-by-side. The past two days have been one hell of a rollercoaster ride. The two of them want nothing more than to shower and crawl into bed. So, that’s what they do.

It’s nearing 11:00 p.m. by the time they’re both underneath the covers and snuggled into one another. As exhausted as they are, their minds are running laps around their skulls. Neither of them will be able to sleep anytime soon, there is still so much to do and so much to discuss. The lingering question is, where do they start?

With the cover of darkness in her favor, Lena rolls onto her side so she and Kara are face to face. They’re close enough that Lena can feel Kara’s breath against her face and see the faint outline of her jawline. Their bodies are so close their legs are intertwined, Kara’s casted hand resting on Lena’s hip like it belongs there. The truth is, Lena thinks it does. She always has.

Maybe it’s time for her own confession.

The two of them lay there in the stillness of the bedroom, eyes focused on each other. Gathering all the inner strength she can muster, she raises her hand to gently tuck a stray blonde lock behind Kara’s ear before resting her palm against her cheek. She can feel the tears stinging her eyes and the nervousness building in her gut. Whether this ends up being the best decision of her life or the second worst (she did help dispose of a body for fuck sakes), she has to do it now.

“Kara…” It comes out as a soft whisper. She doesn’t mean for it to, but she’s terrified. Her best friend nuzzles into her palm, almost silently encouraging her to continue. “You’re so beautiful. Oh so beautiful, Darling. I just…I love you so much. With every single ounce of my being, I have loved you for most of my life. I think I spent so many years with other people because the idea of being with you and then losing you terrified me. Honestly, it still does. However, being here with you these past two weeks, going through the things we have, it’s made me realize I don’t want to be away from you anymore, Kara.”

Lena shifts closer, pressing their foreheads together. “Maybe the timing is inappropriate, maybe I should have waited. I don’t know. What I do know is that I have been in love with you since we were barely teenagers and I’m tired of pretending with other people. Nothing will work with them because they aren’t you. You’re it for me, you always have been. I’ve just been too scared to say it out loud.”

The warm silence that cocoons them is soft and safe. It’s much like the way they spent so many nights throughout their childhood and college years. They bask in it for a while until Lena realizes Kara hasn’t responded to her pouring her heart out. She slowly begins to panic, but the moment she starts to pull her hand away, she feels dampness on Kara’s cheek. For a second her panic increases, has she ruined the best thing in her life? Fortunately, that's when Kara pulls her closer, halting her movement as her panic ebbs into realization.

“Oh Lena, I love you, too. So, so very much. From the very moment you walked into my English class that day, I was enamored with you. Regardless of who I was with or for how long, I’ve always wished it was you.” She pauses, a slight sniffle sounding between them before touching their noses together like she’s always done when they are talking quietly in bed. Lena lightly wipes away her best friend's tears, grateful she feels the same.

With another sniffle and a light chuckle, she continues, “You know, I’ve been waiting for you to acknowledge this since our sophomore year in college. Before Jack, before Mike, back when you were the center of my world. When you showed up with Jack that night, I figured I was alone in the way I felt so I pushed those feelings as far down as I could.”

“I always regretted that, you know? Being with Jack…I always knew he and I would never be more than friends. You and I were so close and everything was so perfect that I did what I always do. I tried to ignore the scary emotional things. I think a small part of me thought maybe you would break things off with Mike when I split with Jack. When you didn’t? Well, I figured I lost my chance.” A single tear slides down Lena’s cheek, a lone drop of grief for what might have been.

Kara sighs, there are so many moments over the years where they could have taken the steps needed to bring what they both wanted to life. If only one of them had been brave enough back then. “On the day of my wedding, there was this little part of me that wished you would beg me not to do it so we could run away together. I felt so guilty because back then, I genuinely cared about James. Regardless, it’s always been you for me, Lena. Always.”

Without preamble, as if pulled together like magnets, their bodies draw even closer. Lena’s hand slides from Kara’s cheek to the back of her neck while Kara’s hand wraps around her waist pulling their bodies flush. Slowly and with the utmost care, their lips meet for the first time in seven years. Each of them releases a soft sigh followed by a gentle moan, flocks of butterflies perform gymnastics in their stomachs. It feels like coming home, like the first rain after a long drought. For the first time in years, their souls find peace.

Getting lost in kissing each other is something they’ve always done. Being late to countless plans and events was prevalent during their college years. They don’t have anywhere to be at the moment, but Lena wants to make sure they do this right. She doesn’t want to go into this lightly and wants it to be clear this isn’t like all the times in the past. Sure, she just professed her undying love for the blonde, but there is no room for misinterpretation this time.

Just as things are really getting heated, the CEO taps the brakes. “Wait, Kara! Pause for a second, Darling.” She presses her hand against her best friend’s chest to put some space between them. Panting, she does her best to think through the haze of arousal thrumming through her body. She’s dreamed about this very moment countless times, but the stakes are real now.

“What is it? Did I hurt you? Is something wrong?” Kara questions, concern shining from the crinkle between her brows that Lena can feel more than see. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Nothing is wrong, my love. I just don’t want to rush this and I need to be clear about where we stand.” Lena states, vulnerability wafting from her like steam. “I love you, but it’s more than that. I want a future with you. It will take time, but I am working toward opening a branch of LS MedTech here in National City.”

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself to say the next words. Gesturing between the two of them, she says, “This…you and I, I want it more than anything. This isn’t like our MIT days, Kara. I want you, for the long haul. Marriage, a dog, and maybe even kids someday. All of it. I know we have a lot to deal with in light of James’ antics, but I’m here to stay, Darling. If you need time, I understand, but I’m all in.”

“God, Lena. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve. That’s nineteen years! If I could have married you instead of James, I would have. In fact, I should have.” She shakes her head to rid herself of the memories trying to creep through. “My biggest regret is leaving Cambridge and coming here. I wish I had stayed there while you were finishing your PhD. No matter, we are here now. I want this, I want you. We can go as slow as you need to, I’m not going anywhere.”

Kara pulls Lena into her arms and they lay in bed just breathing in each other’s presence. With her head on Kara’s chest, she lets herself dream of what a future with her best friend would look like. That’s when it occurs to her, to the world, James is just missing and not dead. Kara is still married as long as he is deemed missing. In most cases, he will have to be missing for seven years to be declared dead. She groans at this thought.

Her groan makes Kara laugh before she asks, “What’s going on in that head of yours? I know that noise. That’s the ‘I just thought about something and I’m annoyed’ noise. So spill it.”

“It’s nothing. I just remembered that since James is considered missing and not dead, you’re still legally married. In most cases, you have to wait until they have been missing for seven years to have them declared legally dead. There’s no magic we can muster to make a body appear. On the plus side, you can still file for divorce.” Lena huffs, of course the man is still a pain in the ass, even in death.

Kara is quiet for a minute before she responds, “You’re not wrong, but also, we know someone that can do something about it. Hear me out. Imra is on the case and she knows he’s dead. Maybe we can get Kelly to talk to her and have The Oath Brokers work their criminal magic to help. We returned all their shit and they know we disposed of the body. At this point it’s mutual incrimination.”

“Ummm, about that…” The CEO sheepishly says. “I may have a duplicate copy of the hierarchy and prominent figure information. I don’t trust them, Kara. I want something to protect us in case they come back. If they find out we kept the money, it might bite us in the ass. This gives us insurance.”

A deep, low chuckle resonates from Kara’s chest. It continues for almost a full minute before she collects her composure. “I should have known you would keep something to protect us. Seems like we need to rent a safety deposit box to keep some things hidden. We need to burn those passports, too. How are you going to get the money into your offshore account?”

“We can get a safety deposit box one day this coming week. I need to think about looking for an apartment or house soon anyway. As for the money, Wilson is sending one of his boys to pick up the briefcase with the money. They’re going to set-up an international wire transfer from New York. For a fee, of course.” Lena grins, curling further into Kara’s warmth. “Now, let’s get some sleep. I’m exhausted and we still have a lot to do before we meet up with Alex and Kelly tomorrow.”

With one final slow and tender kiss, they drift off to sleep in each other’s arms. It’s the best, most restful sleep either of them have gotten in years. They still have a lot to figure out and quite a few obstacles to hurdle, but with each other, they’re confident they’ll make it through.

Waking the next morning, neither of them want to get out of bed or leave the comfort of the other’s warmth. It isn’t until the sun is making itself known through the window and Kara’s stomach growls that they finally leave the bed. It’s nearing noon when they scour the kitchen for something to eat. Suddenly, Lena remembers to ask Kara about Eve and Siobhan.

“Hey, I forgot to ask about Eve or Siobhan not showing up on Thursday when the detectives were here. Did you call them beforehand?” Lena inquires, curiosity clear in her tone.

Kara smiles, leaning down to kiss Lena on the lips. “Yes, I called to tell them not to come because there was something going on at the house. I was vague about it because I didn’t know at the time they were involved.” She shrugs and closes the fridge for the third time.

“I guess we should get ready to grab some lunch and get groceries while we are out. We can pretty much bank on not seeing Eve or Siobhan again.” Lena laughs, heading toward the stairs to shower for the outing. “Oh, we should also pick up some more cameras. If we are going to stay here for a while, we need to have eyes on this place.”

“Agreed.” With that, they take the stairs to get their day started.

It’s nearing 4:30 p.m. when they return from their lunch and shopping. They jointly decide to ask Alex and Kelly to come over there instead of meeting at their place. Having Alex to help install the new cameras will be better than Kara trying to help with a cast.

An hour later, Alex and Kelly are ringing the doorbell with bags of food in hand. With the change of location, they decided to order from their favorite Italian place instead of cooking. Alex immediately clocks the cameras sitting on the coffee table and makes a beeline for them, followed closely by Lena. The CEO already knew the elder Danvers would want to install them and Lena is happy to have the help.

“Do they meet your approval, protective big sister?” Lena asks, a smirk on her face since she knows they are top of the line. She purposely bought the best ones available. Sleek, low-profile, night vision, sound, all the bells and whistles. Not to mention she bought the equipment to set-up an internal server inside the house that also backs up to her private cloud for built in redundancy. If someone sets foot on the property, they will know who and when complete with notifications to their phones.

“This is nice equipment, Luthor. It definitely has your signature all over it. Kara is brilliant, but she doesn’t know engineering like you do.” The redhead eyes the stash with bemused respect. “Knowing you, I’m guessing you’ve already installed and set-up the internal network, too. Shall we start on the external ones before it gets dark?”

As the two of them head outside, Kara helps Kelly put together the ingredients for the chocolate pecan pie Alex asked for. At first, they work in companionable silence. Before long, Kara’s curiosity gets the best of her and she has to ask. “How are things between you and Alex?”

Kelly pauses her mixing and tilts her head toward the ceiling, eyes closed. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she turns to look at Kara before responding, “We’re…okay. She’s still pretty angry with me and I don’t blame her. Truthfully, I deserve worse, but I think she feels pretty guilty about James so it’s somewhat of a counterbalance. It will take time, but I think we’ll get there.”

“I hope so. You two are good together and I’d hate to see it ruined because of all this. Besides, I think we’re far more bonded now than we ever were before.” Kara chuckles, they all share a secret that will go with them to their graves. “Nothing like a little murder and accessory to murder to bind a family together.”

An uninhibited laugh rockets from Kelly’s mouth, the first one in what seems like ages. She shakes her head in disbelief at Kara saying something like that. “Kara Danvers, I didn’t know you had it in you! Such morbid humor, I’m here for it.” The laughter trails off as they focus back on their task, the tension finally eased.

Outside, Alex and Lena are having their own conversation. “How’re you holding up, Alex? Yesterday was a lot and I can’t imagine it was easy to swallow the information you learned.” Lena queries, her eyes not leaving Alex’s movement on the ladder.

“Well, we talked, if that’s what you’re asking. It went about as well as you can imagine until I calmed down. The whole thing kind of turned my world upside down. Once I took a step back and added my own baggage into the mix, we were able to talk things through.” She finishes the final camera on the house and descends the ladder. “We still have a lot of things to work out, but we’ll get there. Alright, gate cameras and then we can eat.”

Lena laughs as they walk toward the back gate to install the last two outdoor cameras, one facing the gate and one facing the house. She and Kara can install the cameras inside the house later, these are the ones that matter right now. The last two cameras don’t take long, but Alex catches her off guard when they’re putting the ladder and tools away.

“There’s something different with you and my sister today. You look more relaxed than I have seen you the entire time you’ve been here and she’s practically giddy.” Alex grins at the now squirming Lena. “The only time you two ever look or act like this is when you are sleeping together.”

First she splutters, something she hasn’t done since she was in middle school. Second, she nearly trips over her own feet. Finally, she forms words and hurls them at Alex. “Wh-What are you talking about, Alex? How did…what did…” She pauses in an attempt to compose herself before speaking again, “I’m not sure what you are talking about, Danvers, please elaborate.”

With a big belly laugh, Alex shoves Lena toward the patio door. “You act like I don’t know you two were each other’s first or that you two made out like the horny teenagers you were when we were younger. I saw you guys more than once, Luthor. Not to mention I know you did the whole friends with benefits thing in college. However, I’ve always known it was more than that for both of you, even if neither of you admitted it.”

Lena is stunned, she probably shouldn’t be, but she is. Alex has always been perceptive and intuitive. Plus, she knows the two of them better than anyone else outside of each other. She sighs, resigned to the fact that Alex has picked up on the shift between them. “We talked last night, traded some confessions, and we’re taking things slow. I love her, Alex. I always have. I just don’t want to fuck it up.”

“You won’t, Lena. The two of you…you’re inevitable. Regardless of the road to get here, it was always going to be you and Kara.” She slings her arm around the shorter woman and they make their way inside to find Kara and Kelly laughing over a cooling pie.

Maybe she’s right, maybe it was always going to be the two of them. The road has been bumpy and long, but she can finally see a future that includes more nights like this. More cozy nights on the couch, more lazy mornings in bed, just more time together. There are still things to figure out and more talks to be had, but this is a good start. Right now, at this moment, she’s finally where she’s supposed to be.

As the four of them sit down to dinner, they don’t notice the figure lurking at the edge of the hedges. The figure watches them for a while, murmuring about unfinished business and getting what’s theirs. Unfortunately for them, the newly installed cameras capture it all.

Find the full story on AO3 here.

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