#this AU is SO GOOD but I keep having to put it down

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ part two is up!

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[your-reference-here]

Okay, I know I already reblogged this, but my brain has been absolutely gnawing on this AU's possibilities so I had to write some of my ideas down.

Boq is definitely the DM. He seems like the kind of guy who would have gotten into the game back home and then brought it to Shiz. He tries for weeks to get Galinda to play, but it's not until he mentions it to Nessa, who then mentions it to Elphaba, who THEN mentions it to Galinda that a game comes together. Fiyero tags along too because he's curious...or at least that's what he says. It's not until they actually arrive at their session zero character creation that he rolls up with a fully prepared character sheet and they all realize "oh this guy knows this game."

Here's what I think everyone decides to play:

Galinda = College of Glamour Bard. I put this in my original reblog and I'm sticking with that. The whole subclass just feels like it was made for her.

Elphaba = Wild Magic Sorcerer. I was torn on whether Wild Magic or Divine Soul would be her subclass, but thinking it over more I've decided to say fuck it, give her the Wild Magic Sorcerer build because it fits thematically and because its shenanigans are fun. In universe, my excuse is Boq suggested choosing options that they could relate to as a first time player, so there you go.

Nessa = Order Domain Cleric. In my head, Boq mentions that cleric is his favorite class, so Nessa decides to explore those options. Something about the Order Domain just speaks to her...maybe it's the desire for some control over her own life, maybe it's a dark foreshadow of who she will become later. But who's looking into it that deeply?

Fiyero = Cavalier Fighter. He just wants to kick ass on a horse. It's also a nice way to uphold a "knight in shining armor" appearance for his peers. Galinda loves it, while Elphaba just rolls her eyes and calls him out for being a horse boy.

The first game is a simple fetch quest that quickly goes off the rails. This isn't unusual as far as D&D goes, but it does escalate to a loud enough volume that the crew gets kicked out of the library and has to find another spot to play. This could be a number of places, but I like to think Doctor Dillamond is kind enough to allow them access to his classroom, mostly to keep them all out of trouble and because of his soft spot for Elphaba (he's happy to see her making friends and joining in whatever this strange social club is). His only request is that whatever mess they make is cleaned up before the first class the following day. It's very close once or twice.

Now, in terms of how our cast actually are as players...

Galinda is the confused enthusiast who has no idea what she's doing but is going to do everything with an air of exaggerated flair. This results in her being the unintentional button pusher/trap trigger-er/the one the party is constantly yelling "NO!" at a second too late. Somehow, she always manages to pull through whatever mess she is in or has gotten the entire party in, mostly because she's able to gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss everyone else, including the DM, on a whim.

Elphaba is a born rules lawyer who comes to the game having memorized all her spells and abilities, only to find herself consistently exasperated by Galinda's choices and/or fighting with Fiyero who knows the game so well that he's found countless loopholes to exploit. She does end up having fun but hoo boy does she come close to magically throwing a book at someone's head on multiple occasions.

Fiyero is just vibing and, though he won't admit it out loud, is genuinely having a good time with these people and it's the happiest he's been in a long time.

Nessa is the only one trying to keep the party on track with the plot for Boq's sake, who is beginning to question bringing this particular group of people together.

UPDATE: I just saw the spellbook again in the artwork and was like "shit that's really a wizard thing to have a spellbook" and then I remembered the beauty of the multi-class, so my solution is that Elphaba decides to multi-class later on into a School of Transmutation Wizard.

dnd au request

[wordywarriorwrites]

Between the Pages

Title: Between the Pages | AO3 | T+

Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader AU

Summary: A photograph brings you back together.

Warnings: Hints of spice.

A/N: For @jolapeno Dear-uary challenge. Prompted in bold/italics.

The photo Joel texted to you didn’t come with any additional context.

His thumb covered up the racier bits, but still, you knew what he had in his hand. A rather salacious polaroid: a private, intimate moment captured forever on film. A photograph meant only for your eyes and his. Something to be kept secreted away, and now, perhaps best forgotten about entirely.

Especially given the circumstances…  

“I found it tucked into the book you loaned me,” he followed up. “Right after the sex scene. Was that on purpose, or just a coincidence?”

You swallowed hard and rolled onto your side, “You should burn that.”

“Not gonna happen,” Joel shot back.

You paused, fingers hovered over the keyboard, cheek smashed into the feather pillow that still carried the faintest trace of his cologne. The two of you had been seeing each other for a while and had inevitably strayed into “where is this going” territory. Keep it casual in one direction, make it more serious in the other, and neither one of you with a map. And other than agreeing you enjoyed each other’s company and that the sex was rather phenomenal, nothing else had been discussed or decided.  

What were the kids calling it? A situation-ship? Is that what you’d gotten yourself into? Whatever the case, a couple of weeks had passed since the night of that particularly awkward conversation, and for a moment, you gave into the pull of your more defeatist thoughts.

You mused that you must’ve misread things. You had a drawer at his place, and he had one at yours, but it was just about convenience – not a sign of intention or genuine attachment. Sure, his glovebox now carried some of your favorite snacks because he knew you tended to get hangry without any warning. And okay, you kept his preferred coffee (sludge, swill, tar) on hand because he didn’t truly appreciate your more sophisticated blend (he swore it all tasted the same).

Or maybe he just didn’t want you anymore?

You groaned, flopped onto your back, and dropped that metaphorical hot potato because it was just too early for such dark contemplation. But still, you threw back the blankets, placed your phone on the nightstand, and got out of bed. From there, you went through the motions – hair and teeth, robe and slippers, toast and coffee.

Mug refilled with a second helping, you sipped and decided a trip to the grocery store was in order. Toilet paper and milk made the top of the list, but the bread wasn’t added because you heard the front door open, and the question of whether you were about to be killed by an axe murderer in your kitchen while wearing your favorite, fuzzy bathrobe was answered when Joel walked in.

It seemed as if he’d rushed over, and it was fucking criminal how good he looked, stood in the passthrough, breathing a bit ragged, damp hair clearly finger-combed, and flannel shirt buttoned all askew. The coffee pot spluttered in the silence, and he fiddled with the hideaway key he used to get in – the one you probably shouldn’t have shared the location of, especially if the two of you were going your separate ways.  

“You didn’t reply,” he blurted by way of greeting.

You stood tall and placed your mug and pen down on the island, “I didn’t know what to say.”

Joel nodded. Ran a hand over his beard. Paced back and forth for a time before he eventually stopped and put his hands on his hips. You met his eyes and tried to brace yourself for whatever he’d just geared himself up for, but the question he walloped you with still hurt.

“You wanna break it off?”

You blinked rapidly and cleared your throat, “Is that what you want?”

“No,” Joel sighed out raggedly. “It’s the last thing I want.”

“So, what do you want, then?”

The little stone turtle that held the spare key in its shell was carefully placed on the counter. Then, Joel slowly rounded the island, his steps careful, almost hesitant. You remained rooted, and you proved to him with your stillness that you had absolutely no intention of running. This talk could no longer be avoided – not if the two of you wanted to move forward. But achieving world peace would’ve been easier than not reaching for him, for the comfort of his touch – especially when he gripped your waist in his hands and turned you to face him.   

“Just want you,” he asserted, straight from the hip, and without any hesitation. “For however long you’ll let me have you. That alright?”

A veritable kaleidoscope of mixed emotions rushed through you. Your relief must’ve been palpable because when you nodded, Joel’s dimples made a rare appearance, and he swept you up into his arms. A breath later, you were being kissed until you were dizzy, and you made no protest when he started to shuffle you out of the kitchen and back into your bedroom.

“Christ, I missed you,” he groaned as he tugged at the tie of your robe.  

“I missed you, too,” you sighed against his mouth. While you worked on the buttons of his flannel, he yanked the belt free from his jeans and kicked off his boots. “But if you won’t burn that picture, at least hide it better than I did, okay?”

Joel grunted and shook his head, “Nuh-uh. Gonna frame it.” He pushed the robe from your shoulders and grinned again. “Maybe even put it on the fridge.”

You laughed and pinched his side, “Don’t you dare.”

He chuckled, shoved his jeans and boxers past his knees, and nudged you toward the bed. The sheets were cold when your back hit them, but they didn’t stay that way for long. Captured by his bedroom eyes, whatever doubts you had, whatever worries you carried – they all melted away. And everything you felt and wanted was distilled into just a few words.  

“Don’t let me go, Joel,” you breathed against the apple of his cheek. “Please, don’t let me go.”

The way he pulled back and looked at you. The way he kissed you – soft and slow, your chin gripped in his hand. The way he whispered “never” in such a way that was somehow achingly tender and fiercely possessive…   

There may not have been a camera to capture the moment, but you knew you’d remember it forever.

[leesolbeesol]

I LOVE YOU! 愛してる! 사랑해!

sungho x fem!reader (ft. mild instigator!taesan and mistaken!woonhak)

GENRE: pure unedited fluff! SUMMARY: Sungho keeps avoiding you... so why is he confessing to you in Japanese? WARNINGS: she/her pronouns used one time | highschool!au but you can ignore that most of the time | this is my world and overtly self-insert so reader doesn't speak japanese and takes chinese in school NOTES: everyone say thank you boynextdoor for the fantastic comeback! seriously though, all their songs are so good i cant even believe it also no proofreading we post like god intended. WC: 2.2k (woww)

It was all Woonhak’s fault—that’s what Sungho thought, at least. He set up the damned snowball fight after all. 

The first time you saw—really saw—Sungho was when you cast a snowball at him and the icy contents landed right in his face and froze him when they snuck through his coat down his neck. You’re not sure why he didn’t block it, you saw him evade others thrown with far less warning and far more force. Instead, he stood with a ready snowball in his gloved hand. That’s the problem—he stood. He just stared at you as your attack wet his brown hair and dropped between his collar and his neck. You had met Sungho a handful of times, but when you did you didn’t speak to him much at all. He was kind of quiet and there were plenty of other mutual friends around for you to chat with, so you didn’t press it. He was pretty, of course, but that alone wasn’t enough for you to individually pursue him. Plus, anytime you showed up it’s like he suddenly had somewhere else to be. You eventually assumed he just didn’t like you all that much, and that was fine. A little disappointing, but fine. After your attack, his expression didn’t change, save for his eyebrows which raised a little. The poor boy looked like he had seen a ghost. You would have put more thought into it if another friend of yours, Taesan, cruelly dared you to a fire—or, snow—fight by crashing an icy cold ball of snow right onto your head. Almost as fast as Sungho had come to the front of your conscious, you were taken away again. The image of him, however, was burned into your mind. Why did he look at you like that? Why did he not react? How did he look so perfect? Those were some pretty frequent thoughts, though the last one you tried to ignore. Regardless, it kept coming back. The image of his soft brown hair, long for the boys your age, sprinkled with snow and his surprised, slightly parted lips came to you at the most inconvenient times.

—

The second time you saw Sungho, he was sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair on the slightly raised wooden stage of your auditorium, his navy guitar slotted in his hands, about to start another song to the cheers of the small audience that had gathered during their free period. You remember him prefacing the song with something along the lines of ‘this is a work-in-progress,’ he tsked, ‘so it’s not done yet, but I hope you like it so far.’ You join the group on the periphery, smiling and nodding along to the song he starts. His voice rings clear around the room as he strums the hook. His hair falls just over his eyes that close when he starts singing the lyrics. You shoo away the thought that tells you he looks handsome—really handsome, especially in his element with the music swirling around him. It makes no sense, but when you look at him you want to talk to him. You want to ask him what inspired him to write it, you want to ask him how he got into music, you want to ask him. The song is heartfelt throughout, but the lyric that sticks with you is ‘yeah, I’ve got it bad,’ because that’s the line that preceded the chorus, the tentative chorus in which he critically screwed up when he saw you. You swear it was like his brain stopped for a minute when he saw you swaying along. Wrong chord, wrong lyric, wrong chord, again. You could feel the glances being exchanged by the confused crowd. After he tore his eyes away from you, he barely got it together for the end of the in-progress work. You looked to Woonhak, a few people to your left, and he just shrugged. The song was good, but still, you couldn’t quite figure out what was up with Sungho.

—

The third time you saw Sungho, you barely saw him at all. This was because of the open door, the paper thin walls of your classroom, and Sungho’s loud voice that fills whatever space he’s in. You infer that that’s how he is normally—‘normally’ meaning specifically not around you. It’s beneficial here, though. You were mercifully sitting against the interior wall and took the golden opportunity to rest your head and take a break from thinking so hard about… well, lots of things. Classes, new collectables, what you were going to have for dinner, you know what it’s like. It was Taesan’s, not Sungho’s, voice that broke you from your cursory peace. Taesan’s voice is certainly loud, especially when he’s surprised.

“You’re joking!” Taesan said and was quickly shushed by Sungho. It appeared to just be the two of them. It was strange—you were friends with most of Sungho’s friends, but barely friends with Sungho himself at all.

“Quiet down! I’m not kidding.” Sungho groaned, and you heard a clunk against the wall your ear was against, so you assumed he was leaning too. “This is just what I’m like, I don’t know what to do at all. I’ve got it really bad.” Taesan laughed at his friend’s complaint. It’s funny, that line was almost the same thing he said in the song. “It’s not funny.” He sighed. He was scolding Taesan, but you feel yourself frown as if he could hear your thoughts about his recurring phrase.

“It’s a little funny.” Taesan presses him. Sungho does not sound like he thinks it's funny.

“I’m being serious, Taesan. She’s all I ever want to think about.” Your ears perk up at the mention of a pronoun. Sungho has a crush? That’s news to you, at least. You mean, maybe it could be something else, but it damn sounds like he has a crush. This makes your heart twist in a way that you are highly uncomfortable with. “Everything's a mess, I’m all over the place. I can’t figure this… this thing out.” He laments. You kind of get it, though. Something you don’t get, however, is the way you hope he doesn’t figure it out. The part you refused to think about was that you didn’t want him to like someone else. God, you hadn’t even spoken to this boy. This is pathetic. You tore your ear away from the wall and covered your ears. Out of sight—or, earshot—out of mind, that’s how it works right? Apparently not, because even after you can’t hear him and that moment gets farther in the past, you think about him. Why can’t you stop thinking about him? This is so stupid.

—

The Friday that Sungho came to school late with his hair sticking up and wearing wrinkled clothes was, counterintuitively, the day you found him the most attractive yet. He sat down after whispering a hushed apology to your frowning teacher. He wasn’t even wearing his contacts, and he always wore his contacts. His glasses framed his face nicely, you decided. You looked back down at your paper as quickly as you looked up at the latecomer entering your classroom. It was hard to focus on your work for the rest of the day. In your Mandarin class, you bombed your quiz. How do you even write that character? You had no idea. All of the sudden, ‘高’ only made you think of Sungho and his stupid broad shoulders and not at all if there’s a hook at the bottom or not. Damn you, Sungho! You got what he meant by the lyrics in the song he had played in the auditorium. You got it bad. As you glanced out the window, you saw the very beginning of the budding cherry blossoms. They look so happy, all bunched up together and starting to bloom in hues of soft pink.

They look the same as you exit from the main door, pink and falling and beautiful. You pause outside those doors, taking in the sight. The trees are pretty, even against the gray sky. You feel more like the gray sky, conflicted. Especially so because you heard Sungho tell Taesan that he “couldn’t take it anymore,” and was “going to tell her today.” That certainly dampened your mood. Not that you have any skin in the game, but you secretly hope that he finds a reason not to. 

You hear a commotion near the doors, and see Sungho rather unceremoniously shoved out of the door by, by the looks of it, more than one set of arms. He looks like a deer in headlights, but starts moving anyway. You watch him, puzzled, before he starts walking over… to you. Behind him, you see Woonhak’s face poke out of the door frame before he looks to be pulled back by someone. You turn your attention back to Sungho, and realize you weren’t mistaken at all. He was walking towards you, holding something behind his back. A slight smile plays on his nervous lips as he closes the remaining distance between you, and you can’t help but glance around to see if this is some kind of joke. He was “going to tell her today.” Is he serious? Are you dreaming?

“What is it?” You ask, though you’re not quite sure why you’re asking or what you hope the answer is. He says nothing, simply extending a hand from behind his back and presenting you with a neatly folded piece of white printer paper. The ink on the inside bled through, slightly visible on the back.

“Aishiteru. Open it.” He encourages you and rolls his bottom lip in his teeth. You had watched him long enough—not in a stalkerish way! Just… in the way that you like looking at his face—to know that this is the face he makes solving a difficult equation. You also know enough about Japanese to recognize the romantic nature of his initial phrase. Why the hell is he speaking to you in Japanese? Regardless, if you weren’t blushing already, you definitely felt heat creeping up to your cheeks now. Doing as he instructs, you gingerly open the folded paper like it’s an artifact that could disintegrate if you so much as touched the paper the wrong way. 

It doesn’t disintegrate, but it might as well have. You stare at what’s written with a blank face. You recognize every other character (your Chinese teacher would be proud), but this is definitely not Chinese. You do recognize the swirling nature of what’s written, however. You furrow your eyebrows, why the hell does Sungho think you speak Japanese? Why is he writing to you in Chinese? Now you’re more confused than nervous. The butterflies in your stomach have settled, evidently asking the same questions you are.

“Sungho,” his name isn’t a question, but it comes out sounding like one, “I can’t read Japanese.” You hold up the paper to him as if he didn’t know it was in Japanese, and he looks absolutely petrified as your words hit him.

“Really?” His voice comes out high-pitched, and he clears his throat. “I mean, you actually don’t speak Japanese?” His register is back to normal, and now he sounds just as confused as you.

“I take Chinese, who told you I take Japanese? What does this even say, anyway?” A smile tugs at your lips. Oh, Sungho. He’s not stupid, you don’t think, maybe it was Woonhak who told him. Woonhak could probably mistake Chinese for Japanese. It could’ve been Jaehyun.

He groans, “Woonhak did.” This satisfies the first part of your question, but he seems hesitant to answer the second part. You raise your eyebrows, prompting him, “well, this is super lame,” what you don’t know is that he internally curses himself, Taesan had told him ‘no self-deprecating statements,’ oops, “but I thought it would make the way I told you unique.”

“Told me what?” You cock your head. The butterflies are back. Thanks to Taesan, you have a sneaking suspicion of what it is, but you refuse to celebrate until you get confirmation. It’s like in debate (your friend had told you way too much), you can think you won the most rounds but you can’t say you won anything until you’re officially told so. It’s like that.

I love you! 愛してる! 사랑해!

“I like you. I like you a lot. I’ve got it really bad.” He smiles and you think your heart might melt or explode, you’re not sure which feels more imminent. You’ve been told you won. It’s like a big weight has been lifted. The cherry blossoms look pinker.

“That’s what you wrote in the song!” You remember, hoping that he’ll be impressed you were paying attention.

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly, rubbing his neck, “that was about you.” It might be the best sight you’ve ever seen. This kind, handsome boy telling you he wrote a whole song about you. “It’s finished now, I can play it if you want… is that embarrassing?” He’s asking for reassurance, and, oh, do you give him reassurance. Reassurance comes in the form of putting your arms around him. Actions speak better than words—that’s your reasoning, at least.

“That’s not embarrassing. That’s cute.” You tell him, though your words are slightly muffled since you’re not speaking directly to him anymore. The butterflies in your stomach cheer you on as you muster all the courage you can find in the deep crevices of your heart and mind, “I like you too, Sungho.” You tell him, and you can hear his heart beating through his coat.

FINAL NOTES: yippee!!! going to a debate tournament wont post for a few days love you mwah

[kitsunexgari]

Summary: Trying to get a drink to relax after work one night, a strange but handsome man sits across the bar with his eyes on you. At first, you are annoyed by this but upon second glance, he seems to be the most enticing man you've ever laid your eyes upon, and he only wants one thing. Tags: Dirty talk, Risky & Semi-Public Sex, Fingering, Rough Sex, Mild Daddy kink, Extreme-Dub-Con Notes: This story is fan fiction for Front Man/Hwang In-Ho and not meant for anyone under the age of 18. It contains rough language and adult situations. Not sure if this makes sense either it's just a little idea that I had consider it AU if you must.

You first notice him eyeing you across the bar. He's only looking at you and he's kind of creepy. Though you do find him attractive you can't help but think he also could be a serial killer. You get your drink and slip away, trying to find somewhere else to sit down. You really only wanted to get a drink after work, maybe talk to some people, but you weren't hoping for any sort of hook-up. This place typically has decent clientele but not tonight. Not with how the creep in the nice suit keeps staring you down.

You get out your phone to browse it and pretend to be busy. You can see him circling around like a hawk. Ready to swoop in at a moment's notice. You try not to pay him any attention but it's not easy. He's very tall, and handsome, and his suit is sexy, flashy, and just as dark as his eyes. Without warning, he sits down across from you as if you already had a prearranged meeting. You look up at him.

"Not interested." You say.

"Then maybe I can change your mind." He says.

"I don't think so," You reply and go back to your phone. He continues to sit there anyway, staring at you as if he can change your thoughts with his own telepathically. After about a minute of this you get up and head away from there to change seats. He stays where he is but his eyes follow you. It's like you can feel them moving over every inch of your body. You wonder why he's stuck on you in the first place.

There are other people at the bar, men and women. Very attractive. It isn't as if he doesn't have a lot to choose from. You keep looking at your phone, trying to pretend he's not bothering you. It would be easier to just leave but you also want to finish your drink which cost close to fifteen dollars, and it's good. You figure that eventually he'll get bored and move on to something else.

Eventually, you manage to engross yourself in a story you find online and lose track of where he is and what he's doing. When you look up again, your drink is mostly finished and he is nowhere to be seen. You smile and shut off your phone, taking a moment to relax and sit back in your chair. Savor your drink and enjoy the final moments of your evening before heading to your car to go home.

As you stand up, you realize that you have to pee. It's not that far to the bathroom and it won't take that long so you head through the back into the waiting area that sections off the men's room from the lady's room. As you enter, you see he is waiting there. Sitting on the couch just between the two doors. You gasp. He turns and smiles.

"Thought you might change your mind." He says.

"I didn't." You reply, "Don't you have anything better to do than hang around me all night?" He stands up, coming right at you. With a forceful grab of your arm he yanks you into the women's restroom. You scream out in surprise but he's fast. He puts his hand over your mouth and presses his back against the door to shut it. In one swift move he has it locked and is pulling you to the opposite wall. He shoves you into it, pinning you there and looking down into your eyes.

"I know I didn't change my mind and I also know what I want." He whispers, "Now, I'm going to move my hand, if you scream you'll regret it." In this lighting and context you can see just how incredibly handsome he is. Positively gorgeous. You don't think there has ever been a man this intent on capturing you in such a manner. Your face starts to flush with arousal as fear flutters through your stomach. Why does he want you so bad and even more...why do you suddenly want him? You nod, signifying you understand what he's saying and he slowly moves his hand away from your mouth.

"What are...you going to do to me?" You ask.

"Looks like anything I want." He says and turns you to face the wall. His large hand comes up, pressing your cheek into the bricks. He keeps you held there but you are so excited by this point that the last thing you can think to do is run away from him or even try. You want him, badly. You can feel how wet you are getting just thinking about how hard he's going to fuck you. His free hand slides up under your skirt and his fingers move teasingly over the crotch of your panties. "I'm not hearing any protests now, am I?" You groan softly.

"No...but I-"

"Shhh...be a good girl and take Daddy's cock like you're meant to." He says. Leaning against you heavily, he shifts and you hear him unzip his pants. There is a bit more movement as he pushes the crotch of your panties to the side. He runs two fingers over your wet folds, teasing your clit and provoking another moan. Two of them slip inside of you, working in and out to get you even more slick and ready for him.

"Please just let me-"

"I told you to be quiet." He snaps, and you can feel his hot breath against your ear. His hand moves from your cunt and from behind her slips his hand over your mouth again, jamming the two fingers he just used on you in past your lips and onto your tongue. You start to suck on them heavily, your eyes rolling back in your head as he takes a moment to thrust into you roughly from behind. Your scream of surprise and pleasure is muffled by his fingers as he starts to thrust. "Keep sucking...clean them nice and good for me..." He orders.

You do your best to fulfill his commands but it's not easy. He is working his hips in ways you didn't know possible. Seeming to hit every spot inside of you in just the right way. His grunting and groaning is animalistic, like a dog in heat. You feel his mouth slip to your neck, biting here and there. Sometimes hard enough to get you to scream again as his sharp teeth break the skin. You groan and shiver, his tongue hungrily lapping up the blood in the wake of the wounds he's leaving. The combined pain with pleasure pushing you closer and closer to climax. His hand slips from your mouth to grab one of your tits through the cloth of your blazer. You squeal and he thrusts harder, the same hand now traveling down past the hem of your skirt into the front of your panties.

"Ready to cum all over daddy's cock?" He purrs and thrusts painfully hard, getting as far inside of you as possible.

"Y-Yes...Daddy...please let me cum..." You whine loudly. His fingers brush over your clit then apply pressure expertly. You cry out as your orgasm hits, his moans eclipsing yours as you both climax together. His thrusts like a jackhammer as you are pressing into the wall. You continue to ride the waves of ecstasy over, and over, taking this brutal pounding until you are both entirely spent. He leans into you, with his full weight once he's finished. You can smell him, the scent of sex, and his cologne. The entire experience is addictive. You've never felt anything like this.

A few moments later he pulls back and slaps your ass roughly. You whine, leaning against the wall trying to get your breath back. He grabs your hand and jams something into it."I'll be here again. Same time next Friday. Don't be late." He says and walks out of there. You blink, wondering if you heard that right and then look at what he's handed you. It's a business card with some weird symbols on it. You still aren't sure of who he is or what exactly happened here but you do know that you will not be late for your next "date" with him. That's for sure.

[gaytommykinard]

(this...got long. there's a lot of backstory and two OCs. bear with me)

ok i was brainstorming in the gc about this bucktommy different first meeting au thats canon divergence from s2 which would begin with buck as a single dad to a 4 year old

because one day he wakes up and social services is at his (abby's) door like surprise! you have a child! or at least that's what it feels like because buck never knew about the kid's existence because the kid's mom did not deem it worthy to let him know. it's not like she couldn't track him down, they were facebook friends. but she still kept this from him? which would cause him so much turmoil, like, that she didn't want her kid to know buck is her dad? local area man loses last shred of self esteem he already had a strenuous grasp on.

but now she's dead, so he can't even talk to her about it, and yeah, there's a 4 year old girl in his house who is missing her mom and not liking this new stranger at all. buck is trying so fucking hard to not break down in front of her but he comes close several times. like, is he ready to be a dad? hell no! he's not now (27) any more than he was when she was born (23) but the point is he IS a dad and he's trying so hard to be a good one. (listen, if you know more about the system and you think this is all wrong: i am sorry. this is a romcom and/or romdrama genre type of story. okay? cool!)

so this woman, someone he knew briefly, and they didn't exactly date, but it wasn't exactly a one-night-stand either, but this woman put him on the birth certificate because she was planning to tell the kid when she was old enough and let her decide if she wants to meet him. she wasn't planning on having kids this soon (28), but it happened, and she decided to keep it, she had a decent job and her own place and an adorable, grumpy old cat who stuck himself to her 24/7 when she was pregnant. her parents were well off and yes, of course they were disappointed, because they wanted better for her, but they got over it quickly. and she really liked evan, but he was three states over by the time she found out, and it seemed like a headache to try to coparent with the fuck buddy you hardly got to know for the month and a half you were together, anyway.

the tragedy is that buck will never really know that. this is very much a putting him in a jar and shaking it around scenario. the point is... buck is struggling. a lot.

and then he meets tommy one night. a rare night out (it's taken him a while to get everything sorted, get his daughter registered in a preschool, find a reliable babysitter (who knew childcare is so fucking hard to arrange when you're estranged from your family and your friends are either the people who work alongside you or your ex-(frat house)-roommates?) but he's getting a handle on things) and chimney invites him out one night because he's going stir-crazy at home recuperating from the near fatal stabbing and buck owes him for all the babysitting favours (there were like. 3 instances, if that. and chimney volunteered because he's actually good with kids, which totally surprises buck but he trusts chimney. and he trusts hen a little more)

anyway. he shows up at the bar and there's chimney and a total stranger. a very handsome stranger. a very funny, charming, handsome stranger.

and tommy. ten minutes into the conversation (work calls, chimney wanted to know, he has terrible fomo), chimes in with, "wait, you're the probie!" because he'd heard a thing or two from chimney, they kept in touch after he transferred, no one, not even canon, can take away my chimneytommy bestfriendsim from me, okay? like chimney would text tommy "can't believe you abandoned us. the probie just stole the ladder truck to get laid" so tommy does not expect this guy to be that guy from chimney's stories.

and yeah. buck had barely finished his probationary year before he got custody of his daughter. and it's been maybe half a year of trying to parent a grief-stricken 4-year-old with more energy than she knows what to do with (once she warms up to buck, she comes out of her shell, and quite literally wreaks havoc in the new house, which isn't in the best state to begin with anyway). and he's so tired. there's like permanent bags under his eyes and a preschool-slash-childcare calendar floating around in his brain 24/7. he maxes out at two beers and then switches to a glass of wine tommy recommends and nurses it for the rest of the night.

because the two of them stay and keep talking long after chimney heads home. tommy listens as buck rambles on about remy. offers to bring her around harbor and he'll give them both a tour. and buck lights up at that. he's totally enchanted by tommy (and he can't really figure out why just yet)

tommy gets a text from chimney the next day asking if he got lucky. and oh my god he fucking wishes he had gotten lucky. he was so tempted to ask if buck wanted to come over. have another drink with him at home. (if buck was into it, then yes, he'd be totally down to fuck. if he got awkward, tommy would have clarified that it was merely a friendly invitation. it's schrodinger's preposition). but he chickened out at the last minute, because yes, he's out now, but still not as confident as he'd like to be, not brave enough to ask out another firefighter, and definitely not a friend of a friend.

but buck calls him about that tour and tommy is more than happy to show them around. he talks to remy like she's his equal, and she warms up to him right around the end of the tour, finds her voice and asks tommy how high can he fly and tells him she can fly higher than that. tommy finds that adorable. (enough to buy her an RC helicopter for christmas. he "was at the shop buying stuff for the toy drive anyway, evan, it's not a big deal! you're the one who said she asked santa for a helicopter!")

it is absolutely a big deal. buck is like. a puddle on the floor. god help him. and yes at some point it occurred to him that he likes tommy. like-likes him. so buck invites him over on christmas eve eve when they're both off and accidentally-on-purpose catches him under the mistletoe and kisses him.

evan buckley started the year as a straight, single man and a probationary firefighter. and he's finishing it a bisexual dad to his 4 year old daughter, and a "we'll see how it goes but yeah i'll be your date for new years eve" man by his side. and i think that's hilarious.

[strayheartless]

Zakkura Ideas from the games:

While playing through Remake and Rebirth there’s been a couple of scenes that I’ve thought about that have potential for sweet Zack lives Zakkura moments. So since I’m a lazy critter who’s currently knee deep in GenGeal week writing, have some ideas I may or may never use:

1. The first being the walk around sector seven. Tifa is showing them around, chatting animatedly with Zack who’s willing to be Clouds voice when he blanks a question. Then the weapons shop owner yells at Cloud, and Zack just watches the internal shutters slam down behind the blondes eyes. He’s about to snap back in Clouds defence but Cloud mutters “leave it” and walks out.

Again, when they go up to stargazer to see marle she insults Cloud. Zack can’t help the string of pure Rhapsodos grade poison that drip off of his tongue when Cloud defensivly says he’s doing his best. Zack snaps at Marle,

“and what would you know about his skills? No offence ma’am but you don’t know the first thing about Cloud and I’d ask you to watch your mouth when making sweeping statements about his abilities. I ain’t got no quarrel with a woman who knows her mind, but I do when that mind thinks it can belittle people on the virtue of their looks. Clouds got skill in buckets and just cause you ain’t got the time or inclination to learn, that ain’t his problem.”

Tifa’s speachless, Marles impressed, Clouds a little turned on by the thick Gongaga accent that snuck through in the middle there.

2. After Cloud falls into the church Zack goes looking for him. It takes hours but they finally bump into each other by the gates to sector seven. Zack is all at once relieved and mortified that Aerith saved him and hilarity ensues as Cloud mentions Aerith had some excellent stories to tell about dates gone wrong. “How come you never built me a cart for all the flowers you apparently bought from your secret girlfriend?”

“She wasn’t secret! You and I hadn’t met! Aerith and I only broke up after modeoheim!”

“Ah yes ‘sorry Aer, Angeal really messed me up, I gotta get my head straight before I can treat you right’ At least it wasn’t over the phone,” Aerith giggles.

“No fair no fair! It wasn’t like that! Cloud and I didn’t date for a year after Angeal died! I’m serious!”

Cloud and Aerith share a mischievous look. “Should we forgive him?”

“Na, make his suffer some more, maybe he’ll cry.”

Zack spends the rest of the evening at the mercy of their teasing.

3. The calm date, except it’s not Aerith and Cloud it’s Zack and Cloud. Clouds not got the issue of thinking he’s Zack in this AU so he remembers nibelhiem the way it was. Everyone in the group knows he wasn’t a soldier like Zack, but Cloud keeps getting these moments where he’ll forget any time has passed and ask what time their due back at the tower.

So they have a little debrief as they stare out at the town, and Cloud leans on Zack unexpectedly saying “thank you for taking care of me. I know I’m not what you signed up for,”. Zack immediately makes him turn to face him and is all like “sweetheart, no. Okay? We’re not doing that. We both went through hell, and just cause your brains taking a longer route to recovery doesn’t mean your not who I fell in love with, got it?”

Cloud gets all flustered and knocks his hands away, turning, but then whispers “you love me?” And Zack just grins, cause good he’d hoped Cloud picked that bit up.

4. Costa Del Sol, Zack lets Cloud wander on his own, cause he’s not as worried here. He himself goes wandering for some beams to patch the holes in their hotel rooms. When he’s done Jonny lends him some beach wear and he heads down to go cool off in the sea, only to find Cloud crouched over looking for sea glass.

“I’m putting my foot down at no more than three small pocket rocks Cloudy skies. We ain’t got the space for friends.”

Cloud stands and pushes a big bit of deep blue sea glass into Zack’s hands. “Here….” It’s all he gets before Clouds trying to escape but Zack catches him.

“You giving me pretty rocks is literally my favourite thing ever. You’re like a baby chocobo.” He gets kicked in the shin for that but he’ll take it. “Can I start calling you piko?” He gets punched in the stomach.

5. Corel mako reactor. The second Cloud nearly goes over Barret still catches him but Zack’s dictating what to do. He’s getting Cloud lane on his side, checking his pulse and eyes. When the others go to get the cart, Zack stays with Cloud, Aerith and Nanaki.

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“He’s fine. As scary as it sounds this has happened before, I’ll carry him if he’s still sick.”

“When did it happen before?”

“After the lab… told you we were there five years.”

“You never said what happened.”

“Bit o’ this, bit o’ that.”

“But what?”

“Torture Aerith. They tortured him.”

“You mean ‘us’?”

“Whatever… Cloud seemed to take the brunt of it. Never did find out why.”

6. Golden saucer. Zack comes to check on Cloud and finds him sleepy and a little vulnerable.

“You feeling better enough to go win me a chocobo, chocobo?”

“I’m better enough to kick you off the bed for the name.”

They go round holding hands and taking it slow. They’re not hurrying, just having a date. They find Tifa and Aerith hiding together and give eachother knowing looks. Then just before Cait Sith appears to ruin everyone’s day, Cloud asks if they can just sit for a bit and just be together. It’s a sweet moment.

7. Zack head butting a guard to try and get to Cloud in Corel Prison. Cloud telling him to just trust him. Zack still having a bit of PTSD induced rage as they’re taken.

[ghost-bxrd]

Hi that ground hog day Jason prompt has me in a head lock. The absolute angst and trauma the batfam will experience. Especially the first time before the loop resets with Dick, Bruce and Alfred who have already lived through Jason's first death. The bad memories this will stir up. You could go for extra angst, since Jason's death into he first loop probably wasn't intentional and go with the classic bomb in in warehouse for an extra guy punch. Just really drive all the bats to the brink of their remaining sanity.

Then you look at the fun Jason gets to have, with all the different ways he can kill the joker. Like, you could have some really jaring and comedic tone switches with the pov switches.

Just, I am so looking forward to anything you bless us with from this idea.

The first thing I just thought of was the song Headlock by Imogen Heap and I think it’s funny cuz it sorta fits the differing POV of this particular groundhog AU pretty well hehe

Alrighty! So, I most likely won’t be writing a fic for this, but I do have some plot points written down as some food for thought/inspiration ✨

!!! Considering the mechanics of this particular prompt please mind that these include mentions of suicide !!!

A stranger cryptically tells Jason they’re gonna do him a favor and create a time loop for him ((this could happen in some random supermarket while he’s getting spaghetti. So… the usual Gotham weirdness. Nothing to be concerned about quite yet))

Going with the first death being accidental and happening at a warehouse, we could add to it by having it be a malfunction of Jason’s helmet. Like the detonators being triggered by a stray kick or bullet ((or batarang))

For Jason it’s an instant reset of the day. The Batfam have to experience an hour post Jay’s death before everything starts anew.

Bruce usually spends that hour cradling Jason’s body the way he did after Ethiopia

The first time the day resets the Batfam just think they had a spectacularly bad dream and keep everything to themselves. Jason spends all of ten minutes in a daze, and then he starts making a list of all the things he wants to do to Joker

Jason tends to opt for quick ways to kill himself at the end of each day. Usually as soon as Joker is dead, because that’s when he loses interest. And because he doesn’t want to deal with the fallout. Unfortunately the Batfam assume that all they need to do to end the loops is to keep Jason away from Joker and any explosives.

The batfam start reading into every interaction they have/had with Jason and become increasingly frantic trying to convince Jason that life is great and worth living. Jason is confused. And annoyed. Mostly because it’s becoming increasingly difficult to steal away from them.

By the time the loop finally ends for good, Joker has resolved to stay tf away from any and all Robins forever. He’ll go work at friggin seven-eleven and become an upstanding citizen as long as the Red Hood just STAYS AWAY from him. He regrets many of his life decisions.

Bruce has a full blown meltdown when he realizes that Jason is actively killing himself. Dick isn’t far behind.

Alfred tries to end the loop by sedating Jason, but the loop resets anyway

The batfam are feverishly looking for the catalyst that keeps driving Jason over the edge. Meanwhile Jason is having the time of his life and healing some of his trauma.

The longer the loop continues the more Jason takes notice of how frequently the batfam tell him they love him, and his focus starts shifting from Joker to spending time with them. Telling them things he never would if he didn’t think they’d forget it anyway.

Heartfelt talks and, eventually, teary begging from a batfam member for Jason to please not die again because they can’t take any more. And Jason’s horrified realization of what he accidentally put the batfam through.

[papaya-twinks]

masquerade - l.n - p.2

Warnings: Smut, 18+ teasing, dom!lando

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Spy Au - part 1

Well, as luck would have it, or rather fate, you and Lando had yet another party.

The mansion was just as good as the last, big and spacious, with plenty of rooms for you and Lando .

But obviously, you couldn’t play any tricks this time.

He already knew, he hadn’t last time but he did now, and you didn’t have anymore games to play.

“Hanging by the refreshments like a little loser,” Lando sighed, walking lazily behind you as you leaned against the table.

“Ha, ha,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“Guess you’re a loser by association,” you said as Lando scoffed.

“I don’t associate with little girls trying to play spy,” Lando rolled his eyes as it was your turn to scoff.

“Playing spy? Let’s keep in mind who actually got the diamond last time?”.

“Through trickery,”.

“It’s called being ‘good in your field’,”

“It’s called being a cunning little bitch,” Lando said.

You were about to retaliate with your own little snippy comeback, had it not been for a thick Italian voice behind you.

“Hello,” the man said, “I believe you know who I am?”.

Obviously. The leader of the Italian Mafia.

“Yes sir,” you bowed your head as Lando’s tightened round his glass.

“Ah, none of this ‘sir’ business!” he chuckled loudly, “please, call me Lorenzo,”.

“And besides,” Lorenzo said, “at my party, I think it is due I dance with the prettiest lady, no?”.

That pissed Lando off.

You just giggled, sliding your hand into his as he led you to the dance floor, leaving Lando.

God, every giggle and every smile…it pissed him off, to no end.

But no one, only Lando, saw the tiny little tape pressed on the pad of your finger as you walked away from Lorenzo.

“Idiot,” you mumbled.

“What’s that?” Lando leaned forwards as you rolled your eyes.

“None of your business,”.

“Is my business if I can go and tell Lorenzo right now,”

“You wouldn’t,”

“I would,”

“It’s just something to get his fingerprint,” you grumbled.

“Uh huh, put it to use then,” Lando smirked, discreetly slinging an arm round your waist, squeezing your ass as you batted his hand away.

“He was gettin’ touchy,” Lando muttered, following you calmly.

“He was being nice,” you corrected.

“You didn’t look like you were against it,” Lando said, slipping into the office behind you.

You said nothing, taking the thumb print and pressing it to the reader.

Lando hummed, his gaze instantly dropping to your ass as you bent down.

“You know,” Lando said, slowly running a hand over your backside.

“Thought you’d know to keep it in your pants,”.

“Excuse me?” you said, raising a brow, your eyes almost fluttering as his hand roved over your ass.

“I said,” Lando scoffed, “‘I thought your know how to keep it in your pants’,”

You stood up immediately, turning round to throw a punch.

“Nice try,” Lando smirked, dodging your punch a you growled.

You swung again, missing once more, trying to kick his shins. He just laughed, shaking his head as he watched you.

“Let’s calm down,” Lando smirked, his hands holding your wrists, grip tight as he pushed them against your chest.

“Behave,”.

“Why were you lettin’ him get touchy with you? Tryna annoy me?”

“…yes,”.

“Just what I thought,” Lando smirked, pushing your body over the desk, stepping forwards, get bulge pressed to your ass.

Your eyes fluttered as you whimpered, hands gripping the desk.

“Needy, aren’t you? D’you want this, Y/N?”.

Again, you said nothing, refusing to admit your feelings, cheeks tinged a subtle shade of pink.

“No,” you lied.

“So why,” Lando said, lifting your dress, “are you wearing no panties?”.

“Forgot,” you mumbled.

“Yet you so willingly bent that little ass over in front of me,” Lando smirked, dipping a finger into your heat, his cold ring adding pleasure to the feeling.

“Now tell me the truth,” Lando said as you whined, mouth falling open. “D’you want this?”

“Yes!” you squealed as he curled his finger inside of you.

“Oh fuck,” you gripped the desk, eyes rolling.

“Thought you were professional,” Lando said, unbuckling his belt, dropping his formal dress pants, his cock springing hard onto your ass.

“I am,” you choked out, his hand running down your spine, cock twitching over your supple flesh.

“Awfully professional to get bent over by your rival, is it?” Lando hummed.

“Is it? Is it professional?” Lando sneered.

“Is it professional to take your rival’s dick,” he said, slowly inching his cock into you as you mowed, “all the way to the bottom,” he said, bottoming out, “and not complain,”.

“Is it?” he said, refusing to move, hand gripping your hair.

“No,” you choked out as Lando smirked approvingly.

“Good girl,” he said, slowly rocking his hips into you from behind, his hand lacing into yours.

You moaned, eyes going fuzzy as his hips slammed into you at a bruising pace, his hand moving yours to the fingerprint reader.

“Scan it, whore,” Lando hissed, opening the safe as his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier.

“L-Lan,” you whined, clenching round him as he admired the little jewel in the safe. And it was all his.

“Now I’m gonna take this,” Lando said as you moaned.

“And you’re gonna clean yourself up in the bathroom, and meet me outside, got it?”.

“Y-Yeah,” you moaned, gaze going black as you orgasm washed through.

Lando groaned, pulling his cock from your folds, his seed spilling onto your thighs as your body shook, hands gripping the desk tightly, chest heaving.

“Get going, then,” Lando sneered, “don’t want that idiot, Lorenzo, to see you bent over like a little whore, do you?”.

“N-No,”.

Lando smirked as he saw you walk outside, makeup slightly smudged, and hair slightly astray from being tugged at.

“Look who came,” Lando smirked.

“You told me to,” you mumbled, looking down.

“Wow, how obedient of you,”.

“Don’t start,”.

“You liked it,”.

“Doesn’t mean I wanna hear your bullshit,”.

“Wasn’t bullshit when I was balls deep in your little-,”.

“Shut up…I need that jewel,” you said, looking to it in his pocket.

“As do I,” Lando said, shrugging.

“Maybe next time,” Lando smirked, “we can settle this fair and square,”.

You nodded.

“Best of three,” Lando hummed, “till next time,”.

And then he was gone.

[b1nniecat]

🎶 counterpoint 🎶

chapter III: resonance.

pairing: college!au park wonbin x fem!reader

content warnings: swearing

wc: 2.1k

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The campus café was packed, the low hum of chatter mingling with the hiss of steaming milk and the clink of ceramic cups. Y/N sat tucked into a corner booth, her notebook splayed open in front of her, a half-finished iced latte slowly sweating on the table.

The page was a mess of scribbled-out lines, arrowed rewrites, and faint coffee stains. Her pen hovered over the paper, fingers trembling slightly as she tried to form the next sentence.

“I was thinking we could build the song structure around a softer acoustic verse before leading into a stronger instrumental chorus—kind of like a gradual climb.”

Wonbin’s dismissive voice echoed in her mind.

“That’s basic. Everyone does that.”

Y/N gritted her teeth, crossing out yet another line.

Too cheesy.

Too dramatic.

Too basic.

The words spiraled in her head, layering over one another until her chest felt tight.

“Ugh,” she muttered under her breath, smacking her pen down on the table and leaning back in her seat. Her eyes scanned the café aimlessly, looking for anything—anything—to pull her out of this loop.

A couple laughed nearby, sharing a dessert. A student in the corner dozed off with his head resting on an open textbook.

But her gaze kept slipping back to her notebook.

Her lyrics had always been her safe space. A place where she could put her emotions into something tangible, where they’d make sense. But now every word felt hollow, every idea stale.

A chair scraped across the floor, and Y/N glanced up to see Ningning plopping into the seat across from her, a bright smoothie in hand.

“Well, you look like you’ve been through it,” Ningning said cheerfully.

Y/N let out a weak laugh. “Thanks.”

Ningning’s sharp eyes flickered to the chaotic scribbles in Y/N’s notebook. “Writing again?”

Y/N shrugged, closing the notebook with a soft thud. “Trying. Failing.”

“Creative block?”

“More like… creative self-loathing.”

Ningning hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Is this about—?”

“No,” Y/N said quickly, cutting her off. “It’s not about him. It’s just me. I’m just… stuck.”

Ningning raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. “Alright, we’re not spiraling today. Close the notebook. Take a breath.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, leaning back in her seat as Ningning pushed her smoothie across the table.

“Here. Try this. It’s supposed to taste like sunshine and rainbows or something.”

Y/N took the cup and sipped hesitantly. Her face scrunched up immediately. “Why is it so sweet? Did you order liquid candy?”

“Excuse me, this is peak beverage science. You just have boring taste buds.”

They both laughed softly, the tension in Y/N’s shoulders easing slightly. For a moment, it felt like the frustration clouding her head had cracked open, just a little.

Ningning’s gaze flickered back to the notebook, now closed but still sitting between them like an elephant in the room.

“Okay, serious question.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now. “Are you stuck because you think your ideas are bad, or because someone else made you think they are?”

Y/N froze.

She opened her mouth, closed it, then shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“It kinda does.” Ningning poked her straw into her smoothie with exaggerated focus. “Because if it’s the second one, then he wins. And we don’t let broody boys with questionable social skills win.”

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is simple.” Ningning grinned, winking. “Now, are we gonna sit here and let you keep angsting, or do you wanna grab a snack and people-watch with me?”

Y/N hesitated for half a second before she nodded. “Alright. Snack run sounds good.”

“Attagirl.” Ningning stood up and motioned for Y/N to follow.

As they walked toward the counter, Ningning chattered about some guy in her econ class who pronounced “macroeconomics” like it was a new species of pasta. Y/N found herself smiling—not because her frustrations had disappeared, but because, for a moment, they didn’t feel so heavy.

But as they stood in line, waiting to order, Y/N’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out and glanced at the notification.

Y/N’s stomach flipped slightly, her thumb hovering over the notification before she locked her phone again and shoved it back into her pocket.

She sighed softly, shoving her hands into her pockets.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

The practice room was dim, the glow from the lone dusty lamp casting uneven shadows across the scratched wooden floor. Scattered sheet music and pencil-smudged lyrics lay abandoned around Wonbin, his guitar resting silently across his lap. His head was tilted back against the wall, eyes tracing faint cracks in the ceiling paint, his fingers motionless over the strings.

His mind wouldn’t quiet.

The same intrusive thoughts circled endlessly—the sharp edge in Y/N’s voice, the flicker of hurt in her eyes, the ghost of a conversation that felt like a stone lodged in his chest. And underneath it all, the ever-present weight of her. His ex. The lingering ache of words left unsaid and feelings left unresolved.

The faint sound of sneakers against the hallway floor reached him before the door creaked open. A mop of brown hair peeked in, followed by Seunghan’s lazy grin and Sungchan’s wide-eyed curiosity.

“There he is,” Seunghan said, stepping inside with a faint smirk. “The prodigal guitarist, lost in the void of his own thoughts.”

Sungchan followed, dropping his bag carelessly by the door and sliding onto the floor without hesitation. “You know, if you sit here long enough staring at the wall, it might start talking back.”

Wonbin didn’t move, his gaze still fixed somewhere far above them. “What do you guys want?”

Seunghan nudged a piece of crumpled sheet music with his foot before leaning against the edge of the table. “Honestly? To make sure you don’t turn into a piece of furniture in here.”

Sungchan propped his elbows on his knees, studying Wonbin carefully. “You’ve been here since, what, lunchtime? It’s dark outside now.”

Wonbin let out a faint sigh through his nose but didn’t respond.

Seunghan crouched by the table, leaning against it as he studied Wonbin’s face. “Alright, Bin. What’s the plan? Sit here until you grow roots or actually talk to us?”

“Not in the mood,” Wonbin muttered.

“No shit,” Sungchan said with a snort, tearing open his bag of snacks and tossing a chip into his mouth. “But, like, you’re also not in the mood to not think about it, so maybe just let it out. Otherwise, we’re all just wasting time.”

Wonbin’s fingers tightened slightly around the neck of his guitar. He didn’t look up.

“You already know what happened,” he said after a long pause, his voice low. “What’s the point?”

“The point,” Seunghan said, pulling a chair over and plopping into it, “is that you’re obviously still beating yourself up about it. And we’re here to… I don’t know, bully you out of your funk.”

Wonbin’s lips twitched faintly at that, but the small flicker of amusement disappeared almost immediately. “I was out of line,” he admitted softly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “She didn’t deserve that.”

“Well, duh,” Sungchan said, stuffing another chip into his mouth. “But, like… you’re human, Bin. You had a bad day. It happens.”

“It’s not just a bad day,” Wonbin shot back, his voice sharper now. “I—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply as he leaned his head back against the wall. “I’ve been off for weeks. Since…”

He didn’t have to finish. The breakup. The ex. They both knew.

Seunghan tilted his head slightly. “You still hung up on her?”

“No,” Wonbin said quickly, too quickly. His hands flexed over the guitar again. “It’s not about her anymore. It’s just… everything. I feel like I’m carrying this weight that I can’t… I don’t know. I can’t drop it. Even when I want to.”

Silence hung heavy in the room for a beat.

“You lashed out because you’re tired,” Seunghan said finally, his tone softer now. “Not just physically, but, like… emotionally. And it’s okay to admit that. No one’s expecting you to be fine all the time.”

“Yeah,” Sungchan chimed in. “But also, you’ve got the self-awareness thing down already. You know you messed up, and you feel bad about it. That’s literally, like, 80% of the problem solved. You just need to do something about the last 20%.”

Wonbin frowned slightly. “Like what?”

“I dunno. Start by apologizing?” Sungchan said with a shrug. “She probably already thinks you hate her, but maybe if you, like… don’t bark at her tomorrow, it’ll help.”

Seunghan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You don’t have to fix everything in one day, Bin. Just… don’t let it get worse. You care about this project, right?”

Wonbin nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Then show her that,” Seunghan said simply. “Start there.”

Wonbin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he mulled over their words. He let out a slow breath, his fingers finally strumming the strings of his guitar once—soft, hesitant.

Seunghan stood up, clapping a hand lightly on Wonbin’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. Sungchan bought snacks, and I’m starving.”

Sungchan waved the bag of chips in the air. “Consider it an incentive.”

Wonbin hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the scattered papers on the floor, before finally standing up with a small sigh. “Fine.”

Sungchan grinned as he slung an arm around Wonbin’s shoulders. The three of them walked out of the practice room together, the dim hallway feeling just a little brighter.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly in the hallway as Y/N walked briskly, her tote bag swinging with each step. The evening chill lingered in the air, clinging to her skin even after the warmth of the library. Her headphones hung loosely around her neck, her mind still spinning from hours of studying and the earlier conversation with Ningning.

As she rounded the corner toward the dorm elevators, voices echoed faintly from the opposite direction. She glanced up instinctively and froze.

Wonbin.

He was walking a few steps behind two other guys, his head slightly down, hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket. One of them—tall, animated, with a lopsided grin—was laughing about something, his voice loud and carrying in the otherwise empty hall. The other nudged him lightly, grinning along.

Her pace faltered for half a second before she forced herself forward. Her gaze locked ahead, her expression steely, but her grip on the strap of her bag tightened.

The trio grew closer, their voices overlapping until one of them—not Wonbin—caught sight of her. The laughter died down abruptly, and their pace slowed.

Wonbin lifted his head just enough for his gaze to meet hers. He froze for a second—too long to be subtle—and she didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched.

The other two guys glanced between them, brows raised slightly, clearly picking up on the sudden tension in the air.

Y/N didn’t stop walking. Her eyes narrowed slightly, just enough to make her point. Her chin lifted a fraction higher as she passed them, not sparing even a glance at the other two.

“Hey,” one of the guys—the taller one, with the grin—said awkwardly, clearly addressing her.

Y/N didn’t respond.

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable, stretching out as her footsteps echoed behind her.

Once she turned the corner, disappearing from view, Sungchan turned to Wonbin with an exaggerated blink. “Wait… was that—?”

Seunghan didn’t give him time to finish. “That was her, wasn’t it?” He covered his mouth with his hand, nudging Wonbin’s shoulder. “Dude.”

“Shut up,” Wonbin muttered, his shoulders stiffening visibly.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sungchan held up a hand, his tone somewhere between teasing and incredulous. “That’s the girl you were talking about?”

Wonbin didn’t answer. His hands were still jammed in his hoodie pockets, his jaw tight as his gaze remained fixed ahead.

Seunghan let out a startled laugh. “Bro, she didn’t even look at you. That’s brutal.”

Wonbin let out a harsh exhale, dragging a hand down his face. “And here I thought you guys would take something seriously for once.”

“Alright, alright,” Sungchan said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “But, uh… have fun trying to mend whatever you managed to fuck up in the span of a day.”

Seunghan snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that. She looks ready to deck you next time.”

“I hate you both.”

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🏷️ @sftsohee @wonychu

a/n: hi!! going to be a little busy in the upcoming weeks but thankfully i worked ahead and have chapters 4 and 5 in the drafts already :3 updates will be a little slow until i find the time to basically finish all chapters in one sitting. after that, it’ll be consistent posting!!

- b1nniecat (>ᴗ•) !

[greyeyedmonster-18]

Five Times Sirius Black Fucked James Potter and One Time He Didn't

(a slytherin!sirius au... part 5/5. read parts one, two, three, and four.)

-

“Well, I barely recognized you, Professor. What a surprise to see you here,” James said, clapping Sirius on the back between the shoulder blades. It was a lie. A bad one. James knew it was. Because he had walked into the Three Broomsticks and immediately recognized the dark curls  and broad shoulders sitting at the bar. And had only bought time over in the corner by his friends so it didn’t look like he immediately recognized him. He joined in the idle chit-chat, keeping an eye on Sirius the entire time, before making the excuse to go say hello to his son’s professor.

Briefly.

It would be brief. 

Lies, lies, lies. Nothing with Sirius Black was ever brief. 

But Sirius wasn’t wearing his teaching robes. He wasn’t in an expensive suit, or robes, or the usual attire James saw him in. Instead, a simple long sleeve t-shirt, pushed up to his elbows and all his forearm tattoos visible. A leather jacket was hanging off the back of his chair. And commenting on Sirius being outside of the usual settings they interacted in, seemed like the safest bet.

Sirius turned toward him, raising an eyebrow playfully, “End of the term. I am officially off the clock.”

“Celebrating?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m just over there,” James said, turning over his shoulder to look at his friends and colleagues gathered at a table in the corner, “You should come join us.”

Sirius laughed shortly, “No.”

“What? You’re just going to sit here alone?”

“Yes.”

“That can’t be much fun.”

“On the contrary, I love being alone. Ideal situation would be if this bar were completely empty. I’d help myself to the whiskey behind the bar if it were legal and pay for the staff to take the hours off,” Sirius replied, taking a sip of his drink, cheeky smile over the rim of his glass. James had come to learn that Sirius Black had one hell of a bark, and James had spent the better part of two decades on the receiving end of it, but had very little bite. Like a dog growling while playing tug of war. At least in James's experience. Always curious if he was the exception or the rule in Sirius’s world. 

“Haven’t sent me away yet,” James teased, pulling out the stool next to Sirius at the bar, 

“Well, you’re good company,” Sirius said plainly, raising his eyebrows and taking another sip of his drink. 

The exception.

James preferred it that way. 

“That was…nice.”

“I have my moments.”

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“Go back to your friends, Potter.”

James waved his hand toward his group of friends, “They see me enough. I mean it, let me buy you a drink.” 

Sirius turned toward James though, setting down his glass, “No.”

“I don’t even have to drink it with you just let me--”

“Let me finish, Potter,” Sirius said, holding up a hand to cut James off, “Before you go into one of frustrated rants and go on about how irritating I am, you cannot buy me a drink is because I always buy. That’s a non-negotiable,” James opened his mouth again, and Sirius gave him another pointed look, “and before you ask why, it’s because, as you love to remind me, I have piles of galleons and there is more than enough to go around.” Sirius put his hand down and finished the remainder of the drink in his glass.

More than enough to go around.

James thought back to the pairs of socks, and trousers and the time he had grabbed Sirius’s sweater while dressing when they were still in school together. Sneaking around. James always in an embarrassed hurry to leave, head spinning and unable to keep track of his belongings. At the time, it annoyed James, because Sirius was always so put together and seemed to know exactly where his uniform shirt was and where his socks had landed. In retrospect, Sirius had saved James several times from walking back to his dorm, sweaty feet in leather shoes. Sirius never asked for anything back. Keep it.

James thought about the cup of tea Sirius made him the night before his wedding. The hot shower. Sirius pulling out luxurious soap hidden in his bathroom cabinets, never asking for anything in return.

The ward at St. Mungo’s. The funds provided to Hogwarts and other wizarding schools around the country. 

And now this.

“Nothing to say? No rebuttal?” Sirius asked, “Have I finally rendered the great James Potter speechless?”

James nudged Sirius with his shoulder, “You’re still a prick. Even if…you surprise me by having a consistently generous mindset.”

“So, I’ll buy you a drink,” Sirius said firmly. A statement, not even a hint of a question. James’s stomach squirmed.

“By all means, Black,” James sat back, gesturing to the bar, watching as Sirius raised his hand to get the barmaid's attention. Without even asking, Sirius had ordered another whiskey on ice and a butterbeer, and James blinked in his direction.

“The whiskeys for me, don’t worry, Potter.”

“No, I know, how did you know I don’t drink?”

“There have been occasions where I’ve listened while you were speaking.” Definitely the exception. James’s stomach flipped again. “Now why’d you want to buy me a drink, exactly?”

“Good company,” James grinned, doing his best to recover quickly “And…I’ve got a really happy kid. I wasn’t sure how it was going to pan out, with him in Slytherin, but he’s…made friends, who aren’t all little brats, and he’s doing well in school and is on the Quidditch team, even. He’s…happy, and he’s thrivin,g and I feel like you might have something to do with that.”

“Might?”

“He speaks of you..a lot. Professor Black, this and Professor Black, that in his letters. No eleven year old should be this interested in Astronomy,” James said, and Sirius chuckled softly, “Without even physically being there, you’re there in my home. Are you happy with that?”

“Quite,” Sirius grinned back, nodding to the bartender as they returned their drinks. James watched as Sirius’s hand reached forward to give James his butterbeer first before taking his own drink. The gold watch on Sirius’s wrist was familiar now. So were the growing tattoos that trickled onto the top of his hand and wrapped around his fingers, having seen them in the parent-teacher conferences held throughout the term, but it didn’t make them less exciting. Intriguing. “Cheers, Potter.” Sirius raised his glass, holding eye contact with James as their drinks made a small clink together.

James took a drink of his butterbeer, running through conversation starters in his head, not wanting this interaction to finish just yet, not wanting his friends to notice his absence and have him not be in the middle of an animated conversation that simply couldn’t be disrupted. 

“Okay, you’re off the clock, not a professor anymore?”

“I’m not sure it works that way, if someone needed assistance, wouldn’t you help them?” Sirius asked.

“Sure, but I don’t think anyone in this pub will be asking for an astronomy lesson anytime soon, though I’m sure they’re riveting.”

“I’m off the clock,” Sirius confirmed.

“Then I have to know,” James started, “Is Snape still a slimy arsehole? And how pissed was he when you were given the Head of House position? I think I would’ve paid money--no, I would’ve had you pay money-- for me to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. He’s been teaching there for years, hasn’t he? You come in and take over. Do you think he cried? Do you think if we found a journal, he’d have a whole page dedicated to the moment you ruined his career?” James could’ve stopped talking. James could’ve asked one question and let Sirius answer. 

Except.

Sirius’s smile grew the longer he spoke, and Sirius started laughing. And through all the parent-teacher conferences and run-ins at Quidditch games in the past year, James learned that Sirius Black had the best laugh on the planet, and there was very little James wouldn’t say or do, to get him laughing. To keep him laughing. 

And James couldn’t decide what was worse.

Wanting to fuck your son's professor into the ground.

Or simply having a sickening, schoolboy crush on your son's professor.

And having to sit through meetings, pretending his heart wasn’t racing and wasn’t distracted by curls and cheekbones and long eyelashes. And waiting to see if a letter would come that day because days when he received post from Professor Black were the best days James would have (aside from days he received post or a mirror call from Harry). 

At least when they were meeting up, hooking up, and ravaging each other senseless, there was a point and an end, and James knew that he could walk out a door and not think about it twice. But the slow conversations, and the laughter, and the getting to know Sirius Black was devestating.

Because Sirius was smart, and it no longer annoyed James.

Because Sirius was quick, and funny, and James wanted to laugh with him.

Because Sirius was generous, and kind, and a million other things that James hadn’t bothered to realize before, and it was positively, absolutely, horrible. And wonderful. 

And it was all James could do, sitting there and easily talking with Sirius--another round for the both of them--until it grew dark outside and James's friends had gone home. Scarcely anyone around but the two of them as they peeled themselves off of bar chairs, Sirius tipping the staff handsomely, and ventured outside. 

Warm summer breeze.

“Are you at Hogwarts for the summer?” James asked, “Or will you be returning home?”

“A little bit of both. Tend to some house maintenance that was forgotten throughout the year…may decide to vacation somewhere else…” Sirius shrugged. James tried to school his face, so he didn’t look quite so put out at the response. All James really wanted to know was where will you be so I can find an excuse to write you. “Why do you look weird?” Sirius asked, “Is it because you’ve never considered I might take a vacation?” Apparently James had done a poor job of hiding anything.

Or perhaps Sirius had been watching him as well.

“Well now that you mentioned it…”  James trailed off but then stopped walking, running a hand nervously over the back of his next, “But…I was more asking for…in case…we need to write you. Homework…help, you know.”

A slow smirk appeared on Sirius face, and James instantly regretted saying anything, “Are you going to miss me, Potter?”

“Shut up. Forget it,” James rolled his eyes, making to continue their walk out of Hogsmeade. James unsure of where they were heading in the first place, but knowing he just wanted to follow Sirius.

“Just hold on,” Sirius said, grabbing James’s wrist and stopping him, “I’ll write you. Wherever I’m at.”

“...That…yeah, that’d be..good. I guess. If you want.”

Sirius pulled James wrist lightly so James was facing him more directly. The two of them standing face-to-face, locked, like statues in a garden. James took a step forward, toes of their shoes meeting on the dirt of the Hogsmeade pathway. 

“I don’t want to play games anymore. I’m tired of the running and leaving, and I won’t do it anymore with you,” Sirius said, his voice low and steady, “So I’ll say, I’m going to write you plenty this summer. And I might ask you to come join me for a drink again, or dinner, or even to my spectacular vacation home. And you can protest when I foot the bill, and I’ll…roll my eyes when you say something ridiculous, and…we’ll go on. Because I want to spend every irritating minute with you.” 

James knew how he must’ve looked. Astounded and stupid, mouth half-hanging open, listening to every word Sirius had said.

Blame it on age, or time passing, but James knew didn’t want to play games anymore either.

“So…you’ll write then?”

“Yeah, I’ll write, tosser,” Sirius said with a half grin, one of his fingers hooking into the belt loop of James’s jeans and pulling him closer. James took the opportunity, now that they were in such close proximity, to brush a stray dark curl out of Sirus’s face, securing his hand at the base of Sirius’s next.

“You’re so beautiful.” James couldn’t help himself. Words slipping out carelessly. 

“I know,” Sirius responded quickly.

“Okay, bloody arrogant--” James mumbled into Sirius’s laughing mouth, unable to finish his sentence without tongues and lips getting in the way. James kept his hand on Sirius’s neck and felt Sirius pull him closer, their chests pressed together. In the middle of Hogsmeade, for once not thinking about who would see or what he was doing. 

It was freeing. 

“Come over,” Sirius said against his mouth, breaking the kiss.

“What for?” James asked. Playing with fire. Some old habits would never die.

Sirius’s voice dropped, “So I can fuck you into my very expensive mattress. I’ll make you cum all over my sheets, and when you think you’re finished, I’ll do it all over again,” he said, tugging on his belt loop again, and James reflexively put a hand on Sirius’s chest to stop himself from stumbling forward at the force. “Come over,” Sirius repeated. 

It wasn’t the first time they had been there, James writhing underneath Sirius’s, face pressed against a pillow covered in silky material. Sirius with James’s hand tangled in his hair, pushing his head down. 

The mess of it all. James purposely laying Sirius down in the soaking wet spot on the sheets. Sirius teasing, teasing, teasing until James unraveled completely. 

“You were right,” James said, lying next to Sirius in bed, a clock ticking in the silence, as both of them caught their breath. Sirius’s leg thrown over James’s hips. James's fingers still stuck in Sirius's curly hair. Just in case he was tempted to go again.

“Probably. About what, specifically?”

“All those years ago. In the locker room? It wasn’t the last time. Not by a long shot.”

[pipperoo]

finally finished fantasy high junior year and of course my brain had to, against my will, start making an au for the npmd guys. it's so bad that i literally had to doodle some of them

this au is still very much in its infancy and might probably stay there, but i had some ideas for these guys. richie is also included in this au, i'm still working out the kinks for his design

but essentially it would start with the six main characters starting their freshman year at some adventuring academy and after some event, are forced to be in a party together for the rest of the year. they all really don't like each other at the beginning, but eventually grow closer as they uncover the evils that have taken root in hatchetfield (this is just the vague synopsis)

steph is a high elf sorcerer, grace is an aasimar cleric, ruth is a half orc bard, pete is a firbolg wizard, max is a tiefling barbarian, and, honestly, still kinda struggling with what richie would be, for now, he's an air genasi rogue (very much could change) [below are their basic designs, which turned out not too bad]

i'll put more of my idea below the cut, but this au may not be really fleshed out completely anytime soon, gotta a lot of wips with little time on my hands. but check it out if you're interested (and, this is probably a long shot, but if you have ideas for richie, i would love them!! please)

Just to be very clear, this is a DND au, specifically an au of Fantasy High which is a Dimension 20 show that I love very dearly. A lot of the worldbuilding would be heavily based on that world (so I use some terms that are from fantasy high throughout this, but I think it's still very understandable if you haven't watched any of it. But if you don't know a lot about DND, this may not make the most sense) But, I still have Hatchetfield twists and this is mainly my own story I'm coming up with, there's inspirations, but still mostly my own.

I'm, first of all, imagining that Hatchetfield is much like Elmville and exists in Spyre as some modern town. So all kinds of species and magic exist in this world. Most of the people are raised up as adventurers like any DND world.

So, basicially the big bad would be the lords in black. They would operate as gods that are in the same pantheon and pretty much share power with each other. Wiggly would operate as the leader, but they are equal in regards to strength. The one being keeping them in check and preventing them from taking over the world is Webby. They once existed in the same pantheon before Webby left. She and her few remaining followers aim to counter their ploys.

The Lords would give anything to eliminate Webby, but as long as she has followers that remember her name and believe in her, she remains a God. They are constantly trying to hunt down followers of Webby, but they are far too elusive.

But, there still remains a chance for the Lords to stop Webby once and for all and purge the world of her followers. There is a prophecy. (I don't have the exact wording yet) Essentially it claims that one of the Lords' devotees will have a child that is imbued with Webby's powers at birth. On the first blood moon after their fifteenth birthday, the child has the choice to devote themselves to the Lords or be sacrificed in the Lords' names. Either way, the Lords will finally be given the power to strike down Webby for good. With the child, they'll have an edge over Webby that they can capitalize on. The child devoting themselves would be making a warlock pact and sacrificing is sacrificing. Until this child is born, the Lords wait.

The devotees are, of course, the Church of the Starry Children. They are devoted to the entire pantheon. I'm still debating the exact people involved, but the Youngs, the Monroes, and Solomon Lauter are for sure there. They operate in secrecy, also waiting for this child to be born. In the meantime they try to gain higher up positions within the town so they can aid in the taking over the world when it occurs. Solomon is the mayor.

As another avenue for the Lords to gain more power, they gain individual followings. They do this by tricking their followings into believing they are some different god. The heads of these individual churches know who the real god is, but no one else. The corruption runs deep in Hatchetfield.

One of the centerpieces of Hatchetfield is the adventuring academy (place holder name is Blim's Battling Academy) ((Jeff Blim would be the principal)). This is a place that acts as the highschool where young adventurers learn how to succeed in their chosen class.

The character at the heart of the story, that's at the center of it all, is Stephanie Lauter. She is a High Elf, like her father, and she was born as a Divine Soul (chaos affinity) Sorcerer (as the nepo baby she is). She is the child from the prophecy, but does not know about it and doesn't know what her father really does. She's had that white streak in her hair since birth. She is not thrilled to be going to school and being forced to join a party. She has that same rebellious spark from the musical and hates authority just as much. She has some grasp on her abilities, but knows very little of why she was given these powers and from who. Though she won't admit it, she wants more of an understanding and she doesn't often feel worthy of these powers because she did nothing to earn them. She's disliked her father ever since her mother vanished without a trace one day and he refused to tell her what happened. (That was due to some Nibbly stuff)

The next important character is Grace Chasity. She was born as an aasimar to human parents. She was seen as a blessing to them. Her celestial heritage shows through her white hair and white freckles. She was raised in Blinky's pretend church (I still need a name for what Grace believes it to be.) She is a Domain of Order Cleric. She believes that following her deity is the best way to go and has some superiority complex because of it. She does have one secret though, that her parents have always urged her to keep hidden. She is a fallen aasimar which means that her divine energy manifests as a necrotic shroud and through skeletal, flightless wings that appear on her back. (This occurs when they were touched by dark powers in their youth which was Blinky in her case, but Modify Memory was used on her, so she doesn't remember it) She fully believes this darkness is who she is and will do anything to cover that up.

Another character that is pretty fleshed out is Max Jägerman. He is a red tiefling that was born to his human father and tiefling mother. Max also lost his mother to something when he was younger. He is a Path of the Zealot Barbarian. After Max's mom vanished, his father turned mean and distant. The only path to gain his attention was through worshipping his deity (Wiggly). Max himself doesn't have as much understanding or faith in this God, kept in the dark a lot. He only does it to appease his father and that is so strong he gets the same effects as if he was worshipping the deity directly. When he rages he gets a little radiant damage bonus to his attacks. He is still the same asshole from the musical, like he seriously sucks and is a massive bully (honestly, kinda like Ragh before his redemption arc), but he didn't go to middle school with any of the characters. (The plot hinges on the fact that none of them really know each other.) He is, of course, a major player on the blood rush team (this world's version of football)

For the nerdy trio I have less fleshed out ideas, I also want them to have a tie to the cult, but I still need more time to think on it.

Ruth is a Half Orc, born to half orcs (her tusks are kinda supposed to like the head gear she wore, though I might still give her head gear). She's never felt compelled to use her natural given strength and instead finds that her passion points more to theater and learning to be a bard. She still is very anxious, so her Charisma is not the best and therefore she's not a very good bard yet. She is a College of Spirits Bard. She's not the best with persuading others and her connection to spirits further ostracizes her. She doesn't have the best control over the spirits she conjures. Her arc would be about gaining the confidence to be a true bard and to step into her potential. There could be a possible Pokey connection too.

Pete is a firbolg, like the rest of his family. He is a a Chronurgy (time manipulation magic) Wizard (this is from the Explorer's Guide to Wildmount, so Critical Role, but I think I'm still going to go with it because it fits him too well). He has no idea where these time manipulation powers have come from, they're sometimes out of his control. He likes to keep his head down in his studies, to be invisible. He is still reeling from the disappearance of his brother, who vanished without a trace, he also had shown some Chronurgy abilities before he was gone. He sometimes pokes around and look for answers, but nothing has come up yet. He doesn't have a good feeling about it. (Tinky would be Pete's connection).

And for Richie, I still need to think of his basic arc, I really don't know yet. For now, he's an Air Genasi and a Scout Rogue, but that is not set in stone. I think he would definitely be a rogue, but he could be a phantom rogue and have that connection to Ruth with the spirit stuff. Again, would love other opinions!

So, basically the main plot is them having a Bad Kids situation where they all get detention or miss out on choosing a party and they're all forced to be in a party together. There are a lot of contentions in the beginning, but they begin to unfold the mystery of the church of the starry children and the prophecy Steph's in. They get closer as they share their insecurities and help each other grow from them. The ending would be them facing down the cult and stop Steph from playing her role in the prophecy. (The loophole is that Steph has the choice, she's not forced to make a choice. She still has the option to opt out and stop them from gaining her power.) I also have Grace discovering the origins of her religion and choosing to change deities. Right now, she changes domains to the Tempest Domain (basically going from order to the natural chaos of storms because Grace is more unhinged than not and she should be free to have that chaos) Pete finds out where Ted went, Tinky got him, and where his abilities stem from (i think he would eventually switch classes to multiclass artificer, but that would probably happen sometime later). Max faces off with his dad and learns the truth about his deity. Ultimately will stand against him and start the process of finding another source for his rage (most likely Path of the Totem Warrior and choosing the wolf as his totem spirit)

The only ship I currently have is Steph/Grace, from what I set up, it's kinda the obvious choice. They have contentions because Grace is struggling with being a fallen aasimar and Steph, who did nothing for her powers, automatically having this divine energy. Something that was not given to Grace regarding her heritage when all she does is maintain faith. And that hits a sore spot for Steph because she deep down doesn't believe she deserves it either, but has it regardless. She wishes she had the choice for her class, that she wasn't stuck, and hates that Grace had the option and chose that. That's what I have so far (Grace also has those contentions with Max because of his faith and how, despite the fact he's a tielfing and asshole, he's still gifted something radiant, but these two will just be friends) More ships may be added, but who knows

This is what I have so far, I may continue with this and may even write it one day, but not in the near future at all. I want to make each of the storylines more equal, it seems like I have a lot of focus on some but that's only because those ideas came pretty easily first. Steph is the heart, but I want more balance and more plot given to the nerdy trio. Again, if you have an idea for Richie (Please) or any other ideas for this, I'd love to hear it!!! And, thank you for reading it to this point, I ended up having a lot more than I thought!!

[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience, pt 2

(Cont. from this) (all parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 2nd snippet. Adar finds someone to officiate the marriage. The elf in question does not think this is a good idea and is pretty vocal about it. Celebrimbor must convince a good friend to help him - even if by, well, unconventional means.

Hiii guys this AU is slowly but surely taking over my brain so - have another snippet. No guarantee how many I'll end up writing, but well, this one exists, so I want to share it. If anyone else wants to try their hand on this concept/AU, be my guest!

"I refuse!" Galadriel spat, after Adar had dragged her into the tent after himself. Celebrimbor had very little time to be elated to see the other elf again before she ripped herself from Adar's grasp and put herself between Celebrimbor and the uruk. "You are trying to force him into something he does not want, would not want if he had any other options left. I refuse to lend you the legitimacy to the claim you seek. I will have no part in it."

She was as brilliant and fearless as the smith remembered her; despite her being in chains and how the two of them were surrounded by potential enemies from all sides, Galadriel was willing to risk her safety and lay down her life for Celebrimbor.

Which was precisely the reason as to why he would not take her up on the 'offer'.

He held up his hands and stared beseechingly at the uruk, who appeared stoic at first glance - but whose gauntleted fist was tightly clenched at his side, grasping the handle of his sword. At Celebrimbor's silent request, the uruk stopped his attempt to get closer. He even motioned the two uruk who had come in alongside him to stand down with a glance, before his eyes settled onto Celebrimbor again. Adar seemed oddly curious now, as if the tension had bled out of him.

The elf brushed it aside, and carefully came closer to Galadriel, humming before he touched her arm as not to startle her. She stepped back, closer to him.

Apropos of nothing, she hissed. "He speaks Quenya and Sindarin. Don't say anything you don't want him to hear."

Celebrimbor blinked, confused. Both at Galadriel's warning, and the fact that this unusual uruk spoke their languages. Then again - he did look elven enough that he might indeed be Moriondor. A terrifying thought, perhaps, but also one that held possibilities.

With gentle motions, the smith began to rub Galadriel's arm, and coaxed. "My friend, be at ease. Let me talk to you, first. Are you alright?"

She seemed torn between turning towards him to reassure him, and keeping an eye on the three uruk in the tent with them. Celebrimbor stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her, so the two of them were shoulder-to-shoulder - they'd cover their backs and she'd still be able to look at him. He had a hunch he'd need to be able to do that for the conversation that would follow.

Her eyes were wild as she was moved, her glances brief, but eventually she allowed herself a moment to take in the smith's face. "I am unharmed," she replied, brief and non-committal. Her glare went back to Adar. "You?"

Celebrimbor continued to rub her shoulder. "I've been treated well. He gave me food and drink," he paused, and looked at Adar. "He didn't even bind me."

This time, Galadriel did whirl around. Celebrimbor held up his hands and indeed, he had neither ropes nor manacles around his wrists. She tilted her head like a bird, and then glanced back at the uruk. Her expression still spoke of suspicion, but at least she wasn't quite so full of hatred anymore.

"Their leader told me he is planning to force you into a marriage," the word sounded like an insult from her mouth. "And tried to lie to me, claiming you'd accept to such a ludicruous idea-"

"Galadriel-," Celebrimbor sighed, gentle. Something in his tone must have given him away, because when Galadriel next turned towards him, she completely forgot the other people in the room by turning around fully. And shock was written all over her face.

If the situation wasn't so dire, the smith would have laughed at the picture she made. She was usually nearly unflappable in times of battle.

"-listen to me, I-"

"You cannot be serious," she breathed, still in shock, and grabbed Celebrimbor's hands with her own. "Tyelpe, listen to yourself. This orc-"

"Uruk," came from the other side of the room. Celebrimbor briefly looked up to see that Adar had spoken the words, but there was no heat behind them. If anything, he looked almost mildly amused. Celebrimbor threw him a glare and then focused on his friend again.

"Orc," she doubled down. Celebrimbor groaned internally. "Is speaking lies! He is trying to rope you into a plan to attack your own people, because he thinks-"

"Sauron is in Eregion. Yes," the smith finished her sentence, and Galadriel's expression fell out of her face at the name. "He's right. I- I have seen him. I know he's there because-"

He hoped, prayed to the Valar that his friend would forgive him. "Because I chose to ignore your warnings when 'Halbrand' returned to Eregion. I..." his voice broke. "I let him in, and now he won't leave. He's- he tricked me and my people, and when I realized it was far too late already."

His confession threatened to tear him apart, and he felt tears of frustration and shame gather in his eyes. "I am so sorry, my friend. I made a terrible mistake. And now my city is going to pay for it."

He would not crumble in the middle of an enemy tent, in front of the leader of a dark army that was still readying itself to attack Ost-In-Edhil if he diverged from the path he and Adar had set themselves onto.

Galadriel's gentle fingers at his cheek were a balm to his soul. As were her kind, understanding eyes. Gone was the commander of the Lindon elves, replaced with a kind smile and an imploring gaze.

"He tricked me too, same as you," she confessed. "Same as he has done to others," Adar's voice drifted over. Celebrimbor looked over in confusion and saw an unusually vulnerable expression on the other's face. And then the smith noticed how Galadriel's eyes had sunk to the floor as if contemplating something herself.

"It's not your fault," the female elf finally settled on, and looked at the smith, imploringly. "Almost none can resist him. And he set out to trick you, it wasn't a mistake or a coincidence on his part. When he first sets his sights on you...it already becomes impossible to escape him. Do not blame yourself for it."

"But I do," Celebrimbor said, and hushed Galadriel as she tried to reassure him. "I am the lord of this city. Of its citizens. I am meant to be their protector, and yet I couldn't even protect myself..."

"Which is why you must do me this favor, and help officiate a marriage between me and Adar." It was, perhaps, unfair to end his heartfelt confession with such a demand, but time was of the essence. Celebrimbor could apologize to her later, if she took offense to it. "His reasoning is sound - he plans to vanquish our common foe. As his husband, I can hand over control of my city to him. My people would have to accept that claim. He could enter it and drive out Annatar- Sauron. Hopefully with little bloodshed."

He trembled as he repeated Adar's plans at his friend, whose face was moving through different emotions at a speed too rapid to keep up with. Still, the smith pressed on. "Please Galadriel - like this, he will advance on Eregion. Elves and uruk will die, and Sauron will reign over whatever is left. Likely, he'll take the city and the army both. I know not how. But whatever he plans cannot be good," another pause. "He's tried to get me to make more rings."

At the mention of Sauron taking over the uruk army, there was a loud hiss from across the room, but it was Galadriel who was jerking in the smith's grasp at the mention of the rings.

"Over my dead body," Adar snarled, but the smith chose to ignore him for the moment. He could discuss this further with Adar when they were alone.

"He wants me, Galadriel," Celebrimbor pressed, and sought out her eyes. "Please, I need you to help me put a stop to this." "There's got to be a better way than this." The smith could tell it was her last attempt to reason with him, and already, it sounded more like a plea than an exclamation made in full confidence. He guessed that she was quickly arriving at the same conclusion he himself had come to.

"If there is, we have no the time to parse it out, or to pursue it," he said, and there was a finality to his words that made Galadriel deflate in his hold. He drew her closer and pressed their foreheads together. "Officiate the marriage. Stand by my side and give legitimacy to Adar's claims. Help me bring this to Gil-Galad so we might unite their- our forces against this greater evil. You want to get rid of him too, do you not?"

She looked back at him. "I can tell you are trying to appeal to my sence of vengeance," she said. And then sighed. Celebrimbor could tell he had gotten through to her, and it made him sigh in turn - in relief.

"I will do as you ask," she told Celebrimbor, and threw another glare at Adar, whose expression was a mask of indifference - thankfully so, for the smith was sure that if the other had been smug about it, Galadriel would have made an attempt on his life, no matter the circumstances (or consequences). She turned back to him. "And I will stay by your side to make sure he won't go back on his word. If he does, I'll cut his throat."

Her bold declaration was met with enraged growling from the two uruk guards who had brought her in, and a watery smile from Celebrimbor, who nodded and brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. "Of that, I have no doubt."

This put a small grin to her face, at last. Good.

"Now that this matter is settled," a voice cut through the small moment of peace, shattering it. "I believe we should start. My children are getting restless, and morning is fast approaching."

Celebrimbor sought out Adar's gaze, who still seemed as unaffected as through most of the conversation, safe for the fact that he wasn't grasping his sword anymore and was infact walking over to the nearby table to drink from a goblet - wine, the smith presumed.

"Untie her, and then let us be done with it quickly." It sounded as if this marriage was merely another task for Adar to fulfill - the smith couldn't quite fault the uruk for that. There was no love between them, not even affection, safe for how he couldn't quite help following the motion as Adar lifted his glass and drank in big gulps, throat moving with the motions.

It was an oddly arresting sight, and Celebrimbor was thankful when the two approaching uruk guards helped him to tear his gaze away. They were cautious to touch Galadriel, and surprised the others in the tent when they gave Celebrimbor the permission to open her manacles with a key instead.

The smith rubbed her wrists between his hands after he'd handed the keys and manacles back to the guards without a fuss and thanked them. The raised eyebrows that greeted him were unexpected, however. He gave Galadriel a lopsided smile and made sure the commander would not require a balm for the chafing.

He was surprised to see that while the manacles had certainly worked, they hadn't cut into her skin. Even with how Galadriel had behaved - and Celebrimbor was sure she hadn't been caught without a fight - Adar hadn't had her bound so tightly that she would bruise.

Perhaps, he mused, there was indeed a way this alliance could work out. "Well then," the smith clapped his hands once. The finality of his words didn't escape him. "Let us proceed."

[astronova-00]

Happy Birthday Sev!! Hope y'all will take this oneshot of an au that I plan for the future (my friend kinda cried...)

“What is that?” That being the subject of the kids’ attention. They were so focused on the vial that they didn’t notice someone walking in with a gaunt look on their face. Although they could sense the shift of change in the atmosphere. 

However, back onto the matter on hand…the kids couldn’t take their eyes off the vial. It seemed to give off a strange glow when Harry played around with it in his hands. As he did this, he caught the attention of the shadow in the background, who then made himself known, “What are you doing with that?” His voice came out strained and sounded more like nails scraping down the front of a chalkboard than the intimidation he wanted. 

Harry, and Ron jumped at the voice while Hermione had the decency to look guilty. “Hello Professor!” She happily replied while arming the other two to say something along the lines of that. They just mumbled nonsense under their voices. “How are you?”

“Enough chatter, I asked a question.” Severus’ tone suggested that he didn’t have time for games, and when Hermione got a good look at him, she could tell why. Dark circles creeped under his eyes and it seemed like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His hair looked dishevelled and even more greasy (as if that was possible). The professor looked as if his whole world was turned upside down. Although Hermione didn’t have the time to ponder on it any longer when Sirius bursted into the room, laughing along with Professor Lupin. 

“Oi! Whatcha doing here, Snivellous?” Sirius accusingly asked as he swung his arm around Remus’ shoulder to keep him balanced. The trace of alcohol was evident on his breath. Severus froze, not at the sight of his old bully-no he got quite good at not reacting to him-but instead at the smell. Flashes floated his head all at once and yet it was all a blur. The familiar bottle was seen in each flash with the smell of cheap whiskey lingering on. Same one that Sirius had now harboured. 

Severus was not in the mood for whatever childish games they would usually put up with. His eyes snapped down to Harry’s hand, and a twitch of emotion ran across his face. To tell which one would be hard to say. Ignoring everyone’s curious looks, Severus inched closer to Harry, and snatched the vial out of his hand. “Do not touch what is not yours.” He hissed with a vein popping from his forehead. 

Harry looked back at his professor with glowing hatred in his eyes, matching the vial in Severus’ closed fist. Ron hid behind Hermione with a sheepish face and apologetically smiled.  

Severus curses himself for being too distracted in his thoughts to not have seen the latter coming. Of course when there are so many changes that seem to have forced their way into your life, you don’t bother to acknowledge them until it’s too late. Sirius thrashed his way out of Remus’ arms (despite the other pulling him back) and headed straight for Severus but missed and landed on Harry. Who caught him right away and decided to lay him on the couch in the room they were in. 

Words flew around as the four of them gathered around Sirius and asked if he was alright. Severus couldn’t give a rat’s arse about him. He got what he came for and now he can leave before Dumbledore finds him with the leftover order members. That old man did not know what privacy meant when it came to over people. Severus left the fools in the room without making a sound (which he was very proud of) and wandered down one of the many halls in the manor.

A familiar pain struck through him. The very same one that has been clinging onto him, one that he cannot shake. It’s beautifully poetic in a sense. Warm hands always touch him but never there and they will never touch again. His ears ring with the soft whisper of their nights and the laughter of their youth. How they managed a lifetime together in so little time will always boggle Severus. He remembers everything and even when he tries not to, it sneaks up on him. Memories torn apart to showcase the struggle and how far they’ve gotten. Not far enough. It was never enough. All that pain and effort just for Severus to be left with a singular tag with his name on it. He finally understood the sorrow and grief when it came to these things. Pulled from his thoughts, Severus sees Dumbeldore from the corner of his eye. 

Albus clapped the other gentlemen’s hand and smiled. They seemed to be in a friendly conversation, so Severus decided to sit down at the long dining table that they’ve used for meetings. Severus had no doubts that he was going to get reprimanded for not showing up for the meeting tonight, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. There’s been a lot more of that recently. The urgency to fix all the wrongs he’s committed, seemed like an utter waste. What was the point? He found himself asking more often. What will he get out of all this?

As he sat down, Molly smiled at him and passed him a cup of coffee. Just like he likes it. She took it upon herself to get his preferences written down. Two sugars and one milk. Many guessed he liked it black but that’s what he loved. Severus’ shaky hands wrapped around the warm mug and the steam blinded him for a second as he brought it up to his lips. His eyebrows finally relaxed as he took his first sip and nodded at Molly who looked like a kid on Christmas. “Oh Severus! Let me get you something to eat with your coffee!” Before he could protest, she went straight into the kitchen and came out with a plate of whatever she had made. He looked at the plate and felt his stomach flip. He slipped his hand into his pocket where the vial was and moved it between his fingers. Thankfully those kids were dunderheads and didn’t realise what was inside. 

From the moment Severus walked in, Minerva did not take her eyes off him. Looking at him like there is something else to see. Peeling apart his carefully crafted facade and clawing deeper into him. His eyes floated to the wallpaper behind her and turned his mind off. Blank. Whispers of the past circling in a loop. He’s never felt more isolated, never more detached. It’s cold and empty inside…a feeling that has never quite left him. It’s a sad reminder that he is destined to always lose, no matter how far he gets. The clock was ticking and yet he was the one counting down the seconds. 

Albus Dumbledore was a man who was always able to command a room. Even if you didn’t know him personally or even like him, you respected him. While it be his morals or his powers, there was that common goal of respect that you’ve held for him. Severus was able to fall into that trap as well. Hook. Line. And Sinker. The old bastard managed to get the straggling members to head to the table and locked eyes with Severus. It was a gaze that meant there was something to be discussed in front of everyone with no escape nor time to come up with excuses. Severus clutched the vial tighter. 

“If I may,” Albus started off, gaining the other��s attention with his eyes still trained on Severus, “It has come to my attention that we have one last thing to discuss.” Leave it to him to have that cryptic sentence. 

Tonks had a keen eye for evidence, hence why she made a good auror, but her hair changed from her normal bubblegum pink to a navy blue, expressing her confusion. Her boss sat beside her with a protective look and then Alastor sat at the corner, nursing his flask. “Oi, spit it out already, why don’t ya!” Alastor muttered with a roll of his eye, and the other went haywire. “Some of us got places to be!”

Tonks let out a laugh and her face changed into a snout while her hair switched to a lighter blue and then rested back to her normal look. Kingsley covered his mouth ‘effectively’ with his mug of tea that Molly kindly brought over. Arthur helped her back, supporting the tray with the other mismatched mugs and teacups of hot water. Severus was the only one with taste (and strength) to handle coffee. The rest of the weaklings had their tea, while Albus decided to continue with his announcement when Sirius, Remus, and the kids walked in. Sirius had a drunken smirk plastered on. 

“As I was saying, Sirius has let me know that Severus has not shared all that he has learned within the few weeks that he has been gone. It seems that he is holding a vial that contains memories during the first war that will be crucial for the upcoming.” Severus’ eyes widened at this and slowly shifted his eyes to look at Sirius, who was already staring at him…as were everyone else. 

The thought of everyone’s eyes on him made him feel dirty. Like he had to scratch at himself until the hyponychium turned red. Goosebumps started to form over him, when he noticed that they were all looking for an answer. Sirius Black looked like he won the fucking lottery. Mouth wide open with his perfect pearly whites and even with the decay of twelve years in prison, his face looked even better. Severus parted his lips and silently cleared his throat and shifted his attention from Sirius to the whole room. “I-....I do not know what you are talking about.” He dismissed. 

However, since God was out to get him, he made Ronald Weasley pay attention to a conversation that was not quidditch related and decide to speak against his professor. There were only twelve people in the room and yet Severus felt as if he was on a stage giving a lecture. “Yeah you do! You literally yelled at us to give it back to you.” The ginger boy annoyingly added while Albus nodded his head. 

Severus glared at the boy and cleared his throat, “It has nothing to do with the order.” His words slowly pushed through his teeth and he took another sip from his coffee, using his free hand. 

Sirius barked a laugh and threw his head back, “You hear that, Moony? Seems like our little Snivvy got his own life that we weren’t aware of!” Remus looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but there. 

Severus was trapped, he couldn’t move. Everything he did was on a loop and his words were like someone else had written them for him. The muffled voices of everyone was coming back clearer into his hearing when suddenly the vial, he was clutching to like a lifeline, was being levitated out of his pocket. He couldn’t move, frozen in another thing that he didn’t have control over. 

“Severus.” Albus’ voice was a dangerous whisper, “Why do you have a pensieve on you?” 

The other’s face still remained calm, cool, and collected. He didn’t give any indication that he was affected by being called out. There were many times where Severus wished he stayed home from an order meeting and this is one time he greeted that he went. Everyone’s eyes varied from looking at him with curiosity or at the vial Albus was holding. “I am not withholding any information relevant to the war.” 

“But you are withholding something.” Albus pushed. 

“Am I not allowed my secrets?”

“Not if they are causing you to slip.” Severus opened his mouth to protest but Albus held up his hand, “Do not think that I have not noticed for the last few weeks, you have become sloppy. You have been giving quick, brief responses. Leaving just as soon as you’ve come in. I decided not to bring it up until someone else noticed and chose to do so with the company of trusted members.” 

Severus rolled his eyes at Albus' abrasive speech. “The vial contains muggle affairs…none of the sort that a respectable wizard would trouble themselves with.” However, this just gained the interest of Hermione and Arthur. “Severus! You know about those wonderful muggle devices? I would love to come together with you on that. I simply cannot get enough of the simplicity of the whole concept.” 

Severus gave the man a tight smile, “If I have the time.” A promise that would never be fulfilled, if Severus had anything to do with it. “However, if you would like to ask Miss Granger for assistance. As I recall she is a muggleborn.” 

“Oh yes! Mr Weasley, I would love to answer any questions you have!” The two broke off into a small conversation on the side as their voices faded in Severus’ head. His eyes drifted back to Albus who was asking Sirius for something. He couldn’t hear anything other than the beating of his own heart along with everyone else's’. The soothing rhythm from the others calmed his nerves. He could feel a bead of sweat on the side of his head, slowly rolling down. Once again, he snapped back into reality when Sirius came back with a wobble in his walk, and the bowl meant for the pensieve.  

“Either you agree to allow us to see whatever you are hiding from the order in this or we will force you too.” Albus’ cold decision came as a shock to both him and Minerva. 

“Albus! Surely the boy is allowed his privacy as does anyone else in this!” Minerva shouted as she stood up in her seat to make her point. 

“I have to think of the order and cannot allow my feelings to be involved with this matter. If the order does not feel safe-...”

“That is bullshit and you know it. Does Severus not matter in this situation? How dare you choose someone else over him, once again?” Minerva could have stopped and let Albus bash him but she didn’t. She has had enough, a little too late but Severus is not complaining…just tired of it all. 

“Minerva.” His voice heavy, “I’ll just get it over with. If being able to see that I am one capable of emotions is what these people who don’t know me need, then so be it.” Minerva saw his resigned sigh and sat back down with a look of pity towards him. He resisted the urge to glare at her. He did not need nor want pity for anything. Severus got up from his seat, carefully making sure his coffee wouldn’t spill and took the fogged up vial from his pocket of his trousers. He placed it in front of Albus at the head of the table. 

Albus had a troubled look in his eyes but his pride for the greater good overcame that. His hand slowly took the vial and uncorked it. “If everyone could gather around me.” Tonks, Kingsley, Molly, Alastor, Arthur, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Minerva, Sirius, and Remus cramped together around the old wizard. They all had different looks in their eyes that Severus couldn’t quite pinpoint due to him not really giving a fuck. 

“If I could do the honours, Black.” It wasn’t a question as Severus took the uncorked vial from Albus and poured it into the pensieve that Sirius was placing down. Sirius didn’t have time to react as they were being pulled into the memories of Severus Snape. 

Old polka dotted wallpaper that seemed like it was there forever. Everything was a faded pink in the bedroom and there sat two teenagers looking into a mirror and one on the bed. “I still think Sev could rock the look.” Said the dark brunette girl with hazel eyes. She was wrapped in a strawberry shortcake blanket and wearing a pair of jorts with beat up converses. 

“You’d think anyone could ‘rock a look’ as long as they got black hair.” A younger looking Severus deadpanned (with a heavy northern accent) as he stretched across the pink frilly bed sheets. His faded ‘Black Sabbath’ lifted up from his stomach and showed his happy trail and his jeans sagging. His docs were discarded on the floor and his bare feet were stretched out around the bed as well. 

“That’s Professor Snape?” Harry muttered to Ron, with a hint of flirtation in his voice. Hermione blushed and tore her glaze from the scene playing in front of her. “Can’t possibly understand why someone would call him ugly.” Hermione muttered softly as her blush stained her face. 

Ron looked at the two with disgust, “Lay off it.” 

“Am I wrong? Also pass me my bra.” The brunette asked with a hand outstretched towards Severus without looking behind her. The third teenager, the one beside her, passed the black bra from Severus to her. “Thanks.” She said as she uncovered herself and let her breasts fall down. 

The group looked around the memory and instantly covered the three kids’ eyes with looks at Severus. However he had a soft smile on his face and couldn’t take his eyes off the scene playing in front of them. “What the fuck is this Snivellous?” Sirius yelled out as his drunken state was sobered quickly when Albus had called them over. Must have taken a potion when he went to get the pensieve. “It’s my childhood.” 

The memory continued on. 

“Eden, I would love it if you didn’t flash our poor boys in my house. We are only fifteen.” A younger Lily Potter neé Evans walked into the open doorway with a six pack of cheap beer in her hand and a lighter in her other. Eden laughed as she coughed into her elbow. 

Hearing her voice snapped Sirius, Remus, and Harry up to look up to her with slight tears. 

“Only fifteen she says as she brings in alcohol and a lighter for underage smoking and drinking.” The darker teen who had dreadlocks and was lying on Eden's back. He had black jeans with an ‘AC/DC’ shirt on, and beat up converses as well. His ear was surprisingly pierced, which dangled a flat, black lighting bolt. “And here I thought our little Miss Princess Perfect was the good one.” He earned a laugh from Eden and Severus.  His twist of words also earned Lily giving him the bird. 

“My mother smoked and drank?” Harry exclaimed as he locked eyes with the memory of Lily Evans. Severus silently answered his question with a nod of his head. 

“Shut the fuck up Daniel before I kick you out. My house, my rules.” Lily stuck her tongue out as she placed the beer next to Eden and flopped on the bed next to Severus. “Move over.” 

“Looks like someone got broken up with.” Eden said as she pushed Daniel over of her and propped up on the inside of her hands with her stomach on the rug. “Tell us what happened, we know you wanna.” She said with a roll of her eyes as she popped open a can of beer and passed one to Daniel who did the same for Severus. 

Tonks and Kingsley raised eyebrows at each other before facing Severus with a look of curiosity. Neither had the guts to speak up until Alastor did. “Albus I don’t know much about you but all I see is a bunch of kids from the past. Ain’t nothing here that wicked boy is hiding.” Sirius flashed his eyes to his former boss and widened his eyes. Within all the years of working for him, he'd seen Moody a compliment. Hence why they also called him Mad-Eye. Sirius snapped back to Remus when he started to whisper something. 

“She looks young.” The words echoed around the empty space where the next memory seemed to be setting up for, Harry inched past his friends and closer to his godfathers. Sirius swung his arm over his boyfriend and looked at Harry with pained eyes and a weak smile. “I didn’t even think that Lily would be in these…”

“Why wouldn’t she be? She was my best friend.” Severus responded as he walked into the house, motioning for the others to follow him. “We should be in here.” He muttered as he opened the door. 

“How is it that you remember these? That isn’t possible.” Albus asked as he followed Severus. 

“It’s impossible to forget.” Severus whispered, before coming to a stop. 

The others filed in and the famous Golden Trio looked at one another for the first time in minutes. Neither one had to say anything to already know what they were going to say. Minerva walked behind them and had a wry smile on her face, and ushered them inside the room. 

The room was the same before but it was obviously a different day. Outside the small window, it was murky and a tough tree branch was racking against it. The rain, pouring harder than before. The four teenagers were still in the room except now they were wearing pyjamas. Lily and Eden had a similar set of silk camisoles with the matching shorts. But Lily’s were a groovy forest green with a touch of brown and dark red mixed in, while Eden’s were a simple blood red with a little lace bow. Severus and Daniel were wearing white wife beaters and black gingham patterned pants. Severus and Daniel shared the bed while Lily was helping Eden blow up the air mattress. 

“Thanks for letting us crash for a couple nights.” Eden thanked in between gasps, trying to regain as much air as possible. 

“I said anything and I mean it. It would be pretty horrible if I let you back at Sev’s while Tobias is there. Besides, think of this as our redo sleepover.” Lily smiled as held onto the almost full mattress. 

“How so?” Daniel asked as he opened a bag of crisps and started to shovel them into his mouth and hand some to Severus. 

Severus watched closer on how his past self and Daniel interacted. He seemed to be taking everything in, not letting him wander until they captured everything. Severus found himself sitting on the bed and staring at Daniel with a face of woe. Severus closed his eyes and let the conversation that he knew all too well flow around him.

“Lils, Jacob was a jerk and you knew that. Besides just last week, you were saying how you wanted a little fun and nothing serious. Why is he bothering you so much? He’s your average brown eyed desi. I mean sure your parents are just bigoted in general, but that’s just cokeworth’s edgy charm.” Eden complained as she couldn’t see the reason why her close friend was acting like this. 

“It’s because she has a crush on James Potter.” 

The room went silent and Lily went red and joined Eden with putting on the bed sheets for the two of them. 

Severus looked at the others to see them truly paying attention as to what was happening. It was like his life story was becoming more of a soap opera than anything else. His eyes lingered on the Potter spawn and for a moment, just a moment. He felt a wave of protection surge through him for the boy. 

“S-Sev, come on. You know I would never betray you like that.” Her perfect English accent, coming out stronger than ever. As if it was a reminder of where they really were. 

“What am I to say? It’s not as if he is unattractive. I cannot blame you.” Severus forced the words from his mouth as they sounded more posh than before. “However he’s a little bastard who thinks his daddy’s money will get him anywhere in life.” The black haired boy sneered, as he shoved the salty crisp into his mouth.

“James wasn’t the bastard, you were Snivvy!” Sirius argued as Harry paid no mind to him. 

“Yes but he has stopped those silly pranks that Sirus and him pulled on you.” Lily tried. 

“Oh yes, because that makes everything much better. Only bullied me for five years, ‘but now I want to get into someone’s pants so I must look like I can do good.’ Sounds like he really cares for you Lily.” Severus snarked back as he faced his back away from her. Lily huffed and layed down on the pillow and covered herself up with the blanket. “Fine.”

“Fine.” 

Awkward silence once again until Eden decided to break it up, “What do you call a pig that practises karate?

This time Daniel couldn’t hold his groan, “What the fuck do you want?” 

“Bitch I asked you a question.” Eden repeated with a threat. 

“What do you call it?” Daniel answered with his voice three octaves higher. 

“A pork chop.” Eden deadpanned before she started giggling at her own stupid joke. 

“That wasn’t funny.” Daniel rolled his eyes. “So just like you then?” Eden replied. 

“Because I am an excellent boyfriend, it is practically my job to be funny. Someone has to be.” Daniel yelped as Severus punched his stomach from not moving his face from the wall. 

“Well a good boyfriend should be like that regardless.” 

“Ay! Sev tell ‘em I’m a good boyfriend.” Daniel whined as he sent air kisses to him. 

“You’re alright, I suppose.” Severus shrugged as he wrapped his legs along Daniel. “Fuck you.” Daniel replied as he snuggled into Severus.

 The four of them laughed. The argument was long forgotten but never gone. It was just shoved underneath everything where later it could explode back into their faces. Severus waved a dragon heartstring wand over them and the lights turned off. The comfort of the rain falling casted them to sleep. The girls cuddled with one another and shared the heavier blanket. While the boys’ limbs were tangled in the early stages of slumber. 

The others thought that a new memory was going to flash by but they stayed there in the quiet room. It wasn’t until movement from the two boys that the order turned their attention back to it. 

Severus turned on his left side to face Daniel who was doing a poor job of sleeping, “Wake up, lover boy.” 

Daniel groaned and shoved his hands in Severus’ face. “Shut the fuck up! That was one time.” 

“But I can be your lover boy.” Severus continued on in a sing-song voice. “SEVERUS!” Daniel shoved his face into the other boy’s chest with his face turning a deep purple. “Promise me that you’ll write until I come back for Christmas?” Severus whispered in their bubble of peacefulness. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily. We aren’t a quick fuck.” Daniel reminded him as he lifted his chin and signalled for a kiss. Severus leaned down and met his lips there. They shared a passionate kiss and then Severus dragged Daniel into a cuddle. “I love you.” 

Severus wiped a tear that escaped from his eye and got off from the bed. He walked down the room as the others watched him. 

“Who would have thought Sniv had a boyfriend?” Sirius asked no one in particular. 

“Did my mom always curse like that?” Harry’s words left his lips before he could process the scene between Severus and this so-called Daniel. He was having trouble wanting to leave the pensieve or have the rare opportunity to stay and hopefully see more memories of his mother. Perhaps getting to know Professor Snape better too. Then again, Harry and his friends were fifteen and had never even touched drugs or alcohol, so clearly there were a few things to discover. 

“Severus.” Minerva’s hitched voice told him what he needed to know. “Yes, he is.” The clipped answer let the silent conversation between the two of them come to a rest. Minerva lowered her eyes and mumbled something under her breath that not even Albus could pick up. 

“What…what exactly are we going to see here? Obviously it is your childhood, but are you sure it’s even morally right for us to see?” Hermione spoke slowly, trying to make sense of what she just processed. Ron looked at her like she had a second head, the two boys agreed with one another that they wouldn’t be talking. It was too raw for them to even voice their opinions about their most hated Professor, and they wanted to keep it that way. 

“Miss Granger. Obviously,” Severus drew out his word like he had done in their previous year of Hogwarts. “The moral rights of someone disappear as soon as they join a cult or a group trying to defeat said cult.” His face twitched in a minor annoyance and led the others out of the room and there they were in some sort of park. 

The grass swayed around Severus and Daniel, who were lying with their heads touching and faced up to the sky. “I want to kill myself.”

“I know.” 

It faded back and suddenly the group was in another memory. 

The room had the cigarette smoke stained wallpaper peeling off so badly, you could see the original drywall and plaster. There was an old wooden table in the middle of the kitchen with a beat up refrigerator and a barely working stove. They had to flick a match underneath it for it to work properly. A handed down rug covered the splintered floors, not that the rug mattered. Everyone wore their shoes inside the house regardless. A familiar looking Eden, though looking much older and had an IV attached to her, was cursing at the stove and finally managed to catch a flame.“Eggs?”She asked in a way that wasn’t really asking. 

An older looking Daniel walked through and smiled at her while raising up two fingers. She nodded and cracked a few eggs into the pan and watched them fry. She peeled off the plastic from the fresh bacon she bought the night before. Once the eggs were done she flipped them, “Danny, mind watching the food? I’mma go talk to Sev and see if he gonna get out of his shell.” 

“I hope you have better luck than I did. I’m lucky I got out there with both of my shoes.” Daniel laughed but his face showed a different picture. 

Eden walked out the doorway of the kitchen and climbed up the old stairs while skipping a few of them and dragged her machine up the stairs. She shuffled her hands against each other and then closed her hand into a fist and raised it to knock on the door. “Sev, open the door.” 

“Leave me alone Eden.” His muffled voice came out through the tattered door. “I have nothing to say.”

“Maybe but you got to listen to me.” Eden slid against the door and brought her knees to her chest. She took a second to get her thoughts and breaths together. Everything was different and everything was going to change. “Sevvy, you gotta listen to me real close. ‘Cause I’m only gonna say this once.” She waited until she heard a sudden movement from the other side before continuing. “The fact that you are feeling guilty about whatever the fuck happened during school proves you better than whatever that bitch said.” 

“She is not a-” 

“I’m not done and yes she was. Just because we hung out together doesn’t mean that she’d really give Danny or I the time of day. Besides you see the looks she gives the two of you.” 

“It’s not her fault. That’s just how she was raised.” 

“Yeah, well you were raised to be a bastard but now you only act like one.” Eden knew that she was able to get a laugh from Severus when he went quiet. “Don’t push Danny out. I ain’t gonna be here any longer and I need to know my boys can do good without me.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“You know it’s true. Live on for me and take care of him.” Eden’s voice wandered around Severus’ head. 

The memory closed and the group was left in the dark while Severus was left staring in front of him. 

“When was that, sir?” Hermione’s weak voice spoke up as she fidgeted with her fingers. 

“1975, the same year as the last memory. Although that was during the summer after my fifth year.” 

Hermione hummed and dared to look Severus in the eyes. “Is that when you called Lily Potter a Mudblood?” There was no flinch in her tone of words nor did she let herself waver. 

Severus didn’t turn to her, “Yes.” 

Remus looked more meek and into himself which startled Seveus but paid no mind as his eyes wandered off to Sirius. His face was cold and stoic but his eyes always told a different story. There was a real rage that Severus hadn’t seen in years but there was also a sense of guilt and defeat. A sadness gleamed to them that made Severus’ stomach turn. He did not ever want to be put into the position of ever feeling sorry for one of the guys’ that made his life a living hell. However he knew how Lily left an impact on all of them and him calling her that disgusting, vile name was the cherry on top for the behaviour. 

Harry looked between the three adults but his face surprisingly didn’t give away anything. He saw the memory a few months ago of how his father and godfather hung Professor Snape underside down and was laughing like it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing, it was sexual assault and no one batted an eye at that. Not even his own mother who had laughed at her best friend before he called her that disgusting, vile word. 

An owl’s hoot interrupted Harry’s thoughts as he faced in front of him. 

“Oi Sev! A birdie’s here for ya!” Daniel’s deeper voice rang out as he cleared the cluttered table away from the old bills and paperwork. They were sitting in the kitchen of Severus’ house and the light above them was turned off. The sun peeking from the old, ratty curtains lit the overview of the table. 

“Alright I’m coming.” Severus shouted back from somewhere else in the house. 

“Y’a I know you were...” Daniel laughed to himself as he lit his fag and took a puff. 

Severus ran down the stairs with his hair half dried and his shirt backwards. “You fucker, I thought someone was here. I could have put my shirt on properly.” 

“Next time don’t let me fuck you in the middle of the day.” Daniel smugly said as he let out a cloud of smoke in Severus’ face. 

Ron pulled a face and Molly and Arthur looked at Severus closely. “How come you don’t curse nowadays, Sir?” Tonks asked as her hair turned shorter and pointy. 

“I have to keep up the facade.” Severus simply answered. 

“Get that out of here.” Severus whisked his hand back and forth before he took a seat next to Daniel. “At least smoke the good one.” 

“Shut up.” 

Severus laughed and turned his attention to the owl and used his wand to take the letter attached to her off. He unscrolled the letter and rolled his eyes fondly when he saw the Malfoy crest at the bottom. The wax looked fresh, meaning whatever was in this letter was urgent. 

No one but Daniel and Severus knew what was in the letter and Hermione looked disappointed that she couldn’t read it. Albus had a distance, nostalgic look in his eyes as he turned to Severus, who was watching the scene unfold in front of him. 

Severus’ eyes widened and he turned to his boyfriend, “Dan.” Severus passed the letter to him and watched the cigarette fall out his mouth. “Sevvy.” Daniel took a deep breath and looked at him, “Whatchu gonna do?” 

“I need the money…besides it would just be a few higher end potions, ain’t like it's hard.” Severus lowered his voice and his head on the table while Daniel wandlessly and wordlessly summoned a pen for his boyfriend. “Take it and then cut it off. Yer Da fucked you up with that thing that happened last year and you don’t need more stress. I’m takin’ a couple of more shifts from the store, so you can have the house all day for them potions. Understand?” Daniel listed off as he handed the pen off to Severus. 

The other looked at Daniel with disbelief, “Dan, I can’t ask you of that.” 

“Good thing you ain’t.” Daniel stood up from his seat and pressed a kiss on Severus’ slightly sweaty head and wandered off, leaving Severus with the decision. 

Not thinking too hard, Severus let out a sigh of breath and wrote a brief letter back. Saying how he appreciated the opportunity and wanted to start as soon as possible. He needed to make it up for Eden, he promised her. 

“You were forced?” Sirius couldn’t stop the words from coming out his mouth and felt very conflicted. 

“Not at first.” Severus replied, leaving no room for questions. He knew after the last few memories he would have to explain everything. 

Flashes of the past formed in front of them, ranging from young Severus and Lily hanging in an old looking park or a younger Eden giving Daniel and Severus a thumbs up as she walked into the office in the fancy hospital. Scenes of Severus playing piano and singing in a club, wearing eyeliner or punk clothes played. Secret dates between Severus and Daniel, them swimming in the river or running away from an older man who looked to be Severus’ father. Lazy mornings of Seveus and Daniel in post bliss while naked. The two making out in some alleyway. Singing on the streets while carrying half-filled bottles of cheap whiskey.  Severus cries over the corpse of his mother, switching straight to a jail cell and then another funeral with the blurry name of Eden Wilderberry. However, after laughter and melancholy switched and overlapped each other, the headache from everyone came to a stop when they stood in Severus' childhood home. This time Severus looked just as he did now, perhaps a few years younger. 

The broken doorbell gave a pathetic ring before it fuzzed out. Severus, who was washing the dishes-muggle style, flicked his wand up his sleeve and headed for the door. He opened it after looking through the peephole and seeing someone wearing a full black suit with badges pinned to their left hand breast pocket. Dread creeped onto every bone in Severus’ body and he went weak in the knees. He knew that three weeks without hearing from Daniel was strange but thought nothing of it. He plastered a fake smile and opened the door, “How can I help you?” Thankfully he was wearing the only pair of muggle clothes that didn’t have holes in it. Force of habit. 

“Are you Mr. Swan? Daniel Thomas Swan’s brother?” The man asked in a posh voice as he held his composure. 

Severus blinked before nodding his head, “Yes I am.” He’s sure that Daniel spelled someone to not question the fact that Severus was pale as snow while Daniel was dark chocolate.  However his thoughts feld when he noticed a few more in full uniform soldiers coming out of a limousine. They had the Great Britain flag folded up and a blank face. “Why?” That one word tore his life apart especially with how choked up he got. “What’s happening?” And yet he was fully aware, hence why his guard was done and tears were threatening to fall. 

“No..” Molly gasped as she put her hands over her mouth and looked to Severus with tears. 

“Mr. Swan, I apologise.” The soldier bowed his head and continued on, “Your brother was a great man and an even better soldier. He led his squadron through an airstrike mission and they got striked down. He left a letter, we will be back in two weeks with all his personal belongings and all finances set for the funeral. Many blessings and may God watch over you.” The soldier handed off the letter as the others made their way to the door and gave him the flag and saluted him. One by one, they marched off into the limo and drove away.  

Severus numbly closed the door and fell to his knees. His eyes became clouded with tears and he couldn’t think straight, not anymore. He was wishing this was a joke. For once in his life he wished this was a cruel joke they were playing on him. He couldn’t let out any sound but he pushed his head to the dirty floor and rocked back and front clutching the letter in his hands, the flag discarded somewhere else. He was shaking and couldn’t stop, the pain he knew wouldn’t stop. A raw scream ripped from his throat and the tears couldn’t stop. It was too excruciating. 

A gasp brought the teary eyes off the scene in front of them and forced them to face Severus. Minerva pulled him into a hug where he let his hair cover his face and the others turned their eyes back to the scene. Albus looked on with no expression. 

Severus slowly turned on his back with his face looking horrible, snot and tears covered his face and he turned to the letter in his hand. He brought it up to his face and slowly unpeeled it and unfolded it. 

Suddenly the memory changed the point of view and they were able to read the letter that Daniel left to Severus. 

Sevvy, 

I’d think you would be proud that I am able to write correctly instead of how I sound with my accent. No one appreciates the northern culture in these posh parts. The Slavics are getting crazy and on the news with those basketball players in the states and their scandal is not helping. The air feels nice but I cannot wait until you are in my arms again or my cock is buried in your arse. Sorry, it seems that I am getting off track. I want you to know that I love you more than there are stars in the sky, more than the fags that I smoke, more than my whole entire existence. However, writing this with the intention that you are reading this, brings a pain to myself that I haven’t felt in over thirty years. You came into my life and nothing has ever been the same for the better. Through the deaths, trauma, torture, failed therapy sessions, and mini music careers, we have shared…I would never choose differently. I will always choose you like you have always chosen me. I could write a whole novel, a whole series about you that will never end. but I want to keep this short and small. (I will send you the journals I’ve kept over here) Remember the promise the three of us made when we were just five years old? We cannot leave without a bang? I have done more with you than I ever thought was possible. You truly brought the light back into my life (not just because you are white) and I could never repay you for this. Promise me Sevvy, that you will not give up. Fight until the end and make sure you kill that Voldemort bastard for me? Just a little..or a lot. I’m in the air force now Sev, I can authorise this type of shit. I love you forever and always. 

Yours truly, 

Daniel T. Swan 

Severus blinked and lifted his head from Minerva and suddenly everything went black. The group found themselves back in the dining room in Grimmauld Place. Molly looked towards her grandfather clock with the enchantments built in and noticed it was almost three in the morning. “Severus.” Her silent apology was appreciated as she looked at him with Arthur behind. “I will see you all at the next meeting, the children must be heading to bed.” It was a weak excuse but Severus was grateful for it. 

“Ah yes Molly. Please forgive me.” Albus turned on his grandfather's tone and bid them a good evening as they walked out the room and headed upstairs to their rooms. Soon enough, everyone made their own excuses to leave Albus and Severus alone. Sirius couldn’t have waited any longer before he fled with Remus giving Severus a sad smile and headed along with the other. Minerva pressed a kiss on Severus’ cheek and wished him ‘a good night’ as well while she glared at Albus. Then it was two. 

“Take a seat, my boy.” Albus’ voice travelled from one ear to the other as he took a seat at the head of the table. 

“I would rather stand. Actually, I would rather ask you. What the fuck do you think that you are so much as intitled to? You ask me to spy on you? Fine, I did it with no issues. But asking me to completely expose myself in front of these people? I’ve never wanted anyone to ever know about Daniel, and now what happens if any of them gets captured? The Dark Lord would violate their minds and then everything you’ve built for is gone because he’ll know that I have a weakness and will kill me. And then Lily’s son will be doomed because I just fuck everything up!” Albus watched as Severus ranted as he stroked his beard and his thoughts wandered. 

There was no doubt this was true, however Albus couldn’t find it in him to care. “I care for you, Severus. You know that I have for these last couple of years. However I wanted you to be free of all troubles that you’ve kept for yourself. I know that it isn’t easy losing someone that you’ve loved-”

“Love. I still love him and that will never stop.” Severus interrupted as he took a seat next to Albus and played with a necklace underneath the layers of robes he wore. Severus didn’t want to hear the old man’s excuses or pity. “Did you know that we were supposed to be married that year?” Of course he wouldn’t have known but what else could Severus say. 

“We were going to be married and I found out that he was killed on July 7th of 1992.” Severus got up and headed to leave, “Today was the third anniversary since his death and you have stolen any fond memories that I could have of him.” 

Silence accompanied Albus as Severus left with his grief and pain. Something in today had broken between the two of them and it wouldn’t be until a few years down the line that Albus realised what. 

[kiyomitakada]

FUCK i mixed up the order i thought misa’s parents’ killer was killed after the stalking but it’s the other way around. god damn it. okay just pretend it happened like this for my sake alright.

[last time on soulmate AU so you don’t have to reread: light met L at the student representative speech and Pointedly Did Not shake his hand, and also misa told her manager she was going to move to tokyo]

-

Light manages to avoid touching L for an impressive two days.

Even after tennis — when L extends his hand to him, in the traditional good-game handshake, Light pretends he doesn’t see it as he wipes his palms on his shorts and puts his racket back into the bag. L cocks his head for a second, then lowers his arm back to his side.

Will he think I’m Kira based on my standoffish behavior? No, Kira is dedicated to justice and cares about the people, there’s no way he’d be standoffish… But would Light Yagami be…? I’ll just act friendly to make up for it.

“I think we’re both thirsty, and there’s something I want to ask you, so — do you want to get a drink somewhere?” he asks, straightening and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Well, you beat me, so you can ask me anything you want,” L says. “But I ought to tell you something first.”

“What’s that?”

“I suspect you may in fact be Kira,” L says, as easy as anything. “If you still want to ask me questions after that, go ahead.”

Light swallows. Damn it. He can’t reasonably ask for proof that L is who he says he is, then, not until his suspicion is cleared. He got him again. How does L always keep one step in front of him?

“Haha,” he says, “me, Kira?”

“Well, when I say ‘suspect,’ I only mean by a factor of one percent,” L says. “Is your wrist alright, Yagami-kun?”

Light glances down. Oh. He lets go.

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “Just strained it a little.”

-

“Misa!” Akako’s tinny voice blares from the speakers. “Good news!”

“Huh?” Misa sits up, still holding her phone to her ear. “Akako-chan, it’s six in the morning…”

“I know! I’ll go to bed soon, just, listen, Misa! Remember the hexing circle I set up for you, for, uh, you-know-who?”

“The one with the voodoo doll I stabbed in the heart?”

“Yeah, that one! Check the detention center website, Misa! Do it right now!”

“Okay, okay,” Misa says, fumbling for her laptop. She has the website bookmarked by now. It loads slowly. There’s the usual banner of Kira victims running slowly on the top of the page—

Oh.

“Oh my god,” Misa whispers.

“He’s dead, Misa! He’s dead! You don’t have to go anymore!”

Kira… avenged her parents. Kira saved her.

A strangled sob escapes her throat.

“Misa? Are you okay?”

“This is the best day of my life,” Misa says.

“I know! Now you don’t even need to move to Tokyo—”

Misa hangs up. She wraps her hand around her neck and squeezes, just once.

She has to meet him. She has to say thank-you. Her life’s purpose has narrowed now; she’s one step closer to being free of it all.

There’s an odd thump.

Misa jolts, dropping the phone. She looks around. Everything’s in place, even the skull decoration that keeps falling off its hook. Huh. Wait, it sounded more like it came from the balcony…

She peers through the window, then frowns.

A notebook?

-

“Here, Ryuzaki, I got your t—”

“…”

“…”

“…Yagami-kun?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s nothing. My bad for bumping into you.”

“You did? I didn’t feel anything.”

“………Right. I didn’t feel anything, either.”

“So, what was it you wanted to ask me?”

“That can wait until you’re positive I’m not Kira. You go ahead and start, Ryuga.”

-

“Do Shinigamis have soulmates?”

“Is that what you humans call the ones who share the marks on your skin?”

“What else would you call it?”

“Scars. And no, we don’t.”

“Oh. …That’s a romantic way to think about it. But it must be lonely for you.”

“I’ve never wanted one before.”

“I could draw one on you! I’m pretty good at drawing, you know.”

“Would that not be even lonelier? To have a mark without anyone to share it with?”

“Ahahaha! You’re smart, Rem.”

-

It is a good thing that Ryuga isn’t his soulmate. It would have been dangerous, not to mention societally inappropriate. Light is happy about this.

He wishes he could talk to Ryuk in public, if only to yell at him to stop laughing.

-

“If I got the Shinigami Eyes, could I tell who my soulmate was?”

“No. It wouldn’t be helpful for us Shinigami, so we never evolved the function.”

“Darn,” Misa pouts. “Oh well. I want them anyway.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yeah? Duh?”

Later in the afternoon, she’s very careful with her gloves as she slides the tapes into Akako’s envelopes. She can’t think of anything worse than someone who isn’t Kira getting their hands over her fingerprints.

-

L/Ryuga/Ryuzaki/whoever keeps brushing past him whenever Light goes to headquarters. Physically, that is. Leaving little sparks of contact in his wake.

It’s on purpose. It has to be, at this point.

What is his game? Does he think he can — seduce Kira, or something? Even if Kira was gay, surely L wouldn’t expect him to be attracted to the man hunting him down. Besides, physical proximity doesn’t fluster Light. He’s very used to it. His friends from high school slung their arms over his shoulders, elbowed him, high-fived him all the time.

“Here,” L says, dangling a piece of paper in front of him. “For you to compose your message to the fake Kira.”

He says fake with such conviction. “Thanks,” Light says. He doesn’t snatch it fast enough to stop L’s thumb from grazing his wrist.

Nothing happens. Nothing happened the past few hundred times, either.

“Did you need something else?” Light asks, when L doesn’t move.

“No,” L says. “I’ll leave you to it.”

-

Rem is very careful to never touch Misa. It’s honestly a little cute. She hovers over Misa like a shield as they walk down the streets of Aoyama, sharp-sharp-sharp claws turned away from Misa’s skin.

Misa has a phone wedged between her wig and her shoulder so it doesn’t look like she’s talking to air, but she still turns her face upward to grin at Rem when she says, “Are you excited for the show?”

“Not really,” Rem says. “Trying to find the other Kira is risky, Misa.”

“I know, you’ve only told me a thousand times!”

“I suppose I still don’t understand,” Rem sighs. “I gave you the notebook so you could protect yourself. I didn’t want Gelus’s sacrifice to be in vain.”

“I am protecting myself,” Misa says, tapping the wig. “Haven’t I been careful?”

“You’re putting your life in danger for someone you don’t even know.”

“Are you going to stop me, then?” Misa challenges. “Gonna kill me?”

“No!” Rem sounds legitimately horrified. Misa feels a little guilty for that, though she brightens when they walk past the Note Blue — the cafe should be close now. “I would never hurt you. But… if you hadn’t moved here, you could still be working—”

“I got a new manager, it’s fine—”

“—and you could fend yourself off from any more stalkers with the notebook. You could lead a happy life… away from all of this.”

“Oh, Rem,” Misa says, reaching up to boop the Shinigami’s nose. “You just don’t get it.”

“You’re so selfless,” Rem murmurs, drawing slowly, languidly away from Misa’s touch.

“I’m really not.” But she’s never gotten this point across to Rem no matter how she explains it. For one thing, if she had done what Rem suggests, she would probably have jumped out a window three months in. “Oh look, there’s the cafe!”

-

“Liiiiight!”

Light isn’t usually jumpy, but he flinches when Sayu shouts his name up the stairs. The TV broadcast is still going just as L had written: We can offer you clemency and police protection if you work with us to capture the First Kira…

He’s fucked. He’s so, so fucked. How did the fake Kira find him? Nothing happened in Aoyama! Nothing even happened in the Note Blue — Light just stood around with Matsuda for thirty painfully awkward minutes! He wasn’t old enough to get the margaritas!

I need a plan, he thinks, while he automatically rises to follow his sister’s voice. She’s probably doing her math homework again. He’s going to sell me out, he’s going to kill me, I need a plan—

“Your friend brought over your notebook!”

Light freezes in the doorway.

Notebook?

“Coming,” he says a second too late, hurrying down the stairs.

“I can’t believe you of all people forgot your notebook at school, onii-chan,” Sayu says, elbowing him a little as he goes by. “You’re losing your touch!”

Light manages to smile at her before he rounds the corner, too distracted to notice the way Sayu’s face slides into a frown. He yanks the door open.

………………

The fake Kira is a girl.

The fake Kira is… very blonde.

“N-nice to meet you,” says the only human alive who knows Light’s worst-best secret. “I’m Misa Amane.”

-

( @kiyomitakada )

proof of concept for the yagamane soulmate au (doesn't actually contain any yagamane yet) dont mind me

The only reason Sachiko isn’t running is because there are children swarming around her, laughing and giggling while she shoves her way through the hall. Where had the nurse’s office been on the map — she rounds a corner, tries to catch her bearings, then notices it: the sounds of someone crying.

Light.

Sachiko yanks the door open, heart pounding in her ribs. Light never cries — he used to as a toddler, of course, but after Sayu was born Sachiko can count on one hand the number of times he’s had a tantrum. Her baby is so mature. When the school had called and told her Light was having some sort of nervous breakdown, I think? she’d dropped everything without a second thought and taken a taxi here.

“There, there,” the nurse is saying, rubbing her son’s back. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t touch me,” Light hiccups, broken and high-pitched, and Sachiko would shout at the nurse to get away from him if not for the fact that Light’s little fingers have the nurse’s wrist in a vice grip as though afraid she'll go.

“Light,” Sachiko says, “I’m here, Light.” She drops her bag on the floor and drops to the floor, cradling his face in her hands; Light doesn’t resist. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“It doesn’t work,” Light sobs. His eyes are puffy with tears. From the nurse’s expression Sachiko surmises this has been going on for a while. “Mama — Mama, where’s Dad?”

Sachiko’s heart twists. “Your dad’s at work,” she says, brushing a soaked strand of hair out of Light’s face. The nurse, free of Light’s grasp, has moved a few paces away to give them space. Light collapses. His head flops on Sachiko’s shoulder; she has to shift her weight to hold him. “Honey, talk to me. What happened?”

“I t-tried everyone,” Light says, voice a little muffled in Sachiko’s sweater. “Even the o-older girls, and the boys, and — nothing happened.”

Well, that’s probably good, Sachiko manages to not say aloud. What business does Light have with the upper-grade kids? “Did you want something to happen?” she asks instead.

Light nods miserably. “Noriko-sensei s-says you’ll know when it does. You’ll see it.”

“When wh—?”

Sachiko stops. She thinks. Light’s hand has clamped around her wrist, like he did with the nurse’s, and for the first time she realizes. He’s covering her soulmate tattoo.

“Light,” she says slowly, “what did you do?”

She doesn’t mean for it to sound accusatory, but Light bursts into a new round of tears against her shoulder. Sachiko, shocked, wraps her arms around him, runs a hand through his hair. “It’s okay, Light,” she tries. “It’s okay!”

Light keeps sobbing.

Sachiko looks up at the nurse. “What class was he in just now?”

“Arts and crafts,” the nurse says. “They were making bracelets.”

The red camellias are printed in a woven pattern encircling Sachiko’s wrist. They are silent.

“It was my idea!” Light gasps out between hiccups.

Sachiko takes a moment before she speaks.

“Light, were you trying to find your soulmate?”

“I-it doesn’t make any sense,” Light says. His free hand is clenched in a fist. “You — you and Dad said — you’ll always meet —”

Sachiko swallows her horror. This is her fault. This is all her fault.

“Nurse,” she says, “could you please leave us alone?”

The nurse nods and withdraws through the door.

Sachiko sighs. She knew she’d have to give her kids the talk one day, but Light is only six, and she’d thought she had more time…

“Light,” she says, “soulmates aren’t real.”

-

The soulmate phenomenon is one of the greatest medical mysteries of all time. Not for a lack of literature: the abundance of evidence regarding soulmatehood stretches into Mesopotamian records. But it makes no sense. There are seven billion people alive. The chance of finding your soulmate, even without considering age and gender and all that, is almost nothing.

But it does happen. Misa knows, because her parents are soulmates.

To be honest, she’d had her doubts before. They screamed at each other, sometimes threw things, kept alternating being kicked out to cheap motels. But they always made up, in the end. Made up… passionately. Misa learned to put on music to drown it out.

“What does it mean?” she asked curiously one day, pointing at the bloodred ruby embedded in the hollow of her mom’s throat.

“It means he’s strangling me,” her mom said. “What do you want for breakfast?”

After her dad had gotten back from the motel she’d asked him instead.

“Well, Misa,” he said. “Your mother’s the worst bitch alive, and I’m the only one who can handle her right.” He touched his thumb to the ruby printed on his throat, fondness tugging at his smile. “We’re the same person. That’s what it means.”

Misa hadn’t really gotten it, back then. Why would two of the same people fight? If she could make another Misa she’d do it in a heartbeat. That way Other-Misa could do the chores for her.

…On second thought, maybe she did get it.

But anyway. Somewhere, subconsciously, she’d always doubted. Misa was very up-to-date on the latest celebrity scandals, and she knew how easy matching tattoos were to fake.

But now she is staring through the crack in the closet. There is blood pooling on the floor, a dull red compared to the bright, shining light glowing from her dad’s throat. She stares and stares and stares until it fades to the white color of a scar.

“Miss,” says the officer on the phone, “Miss! Stay calm, we’re almost there—”

“Don’t fucking bother,” Misa says, and hangs up.

Her mom had stumbled like she’d been stabbed when her ruby went white. Snapped at Misa to hide and call the police, then picked up a kitchen knife. Misa isn’t sure when the burglar whoever-it-was dragged her dad’s dead body to rest in her line of view, but she knows his throat had still been glowing until it wasn’t.

She’ll never doubt soulmates are real again.

-

Light is seventeen years old and the world is falling apart.

Soulmates, he scoffs to himself, whenever the topic comes up in discussion. Akasato is rambling about his girlfriend again and how they’re fated to be. Light isn’t jealous. Getting attached is the worst thing that could ever happen to someone.

“I swear, man, the way you talk about her I think your tattoo should’ve been a ball and chain,” Yamamoto says.

Akasato groans. “She’s not that bad! She sent me chocolates!”

“The same ones she gave that basketball guy?” Light laughs.

“Don’t remind me, I’ll kill him, I swear,” Akasato says. Grinning. Murder is so out of the realm of possibility it’s funny. “And anyway, she’s coming over for Christmas.”

“Oh, whoa,” Yamamoto says. “Happy for you.”

“Yeah, congrats,” Light adds.

His mom wasn’t lying, exactly. The chances of stumbling across your soulmate are effectively zero. There’s studies suggesting that it’s higher than random chance, that most found soulmates live in or around the same timezone as you, but he’s pretty sure they’re cherry-picking.

It’s much easier to fall in love with someone and make them your soulmate instead, his mom had explained to him softly, rubbing her wrist. Much easier to get a tattoo with them, rather than hoping it’ll show up on your skin at first touch. Maybe even more romantic. Your dad and I love each other, Light. Who cares if he’s not perfect? He’s good enough for me.

The last time a teacher called Light’s work good enough was in fifth grade. Light had sabotaged his swivel chair afterwards and he’d had to take a week off.

“Thanks, guys,” Akasato says. “Hey, Yamamoto, who’re you having over for Christmas?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.”

“Sending cards to girls again?” Light puts in.

Yamamoto snorts. “Not all of us are lucky enough to be like Aka-chan here—”

“You take that back—”

“—and find their soulmate in middle school,” Yamamoto finishes. “I’m going to keep trying.”

“You know you actually have to make contact with them for it to happen, right?” Light asks.

“Obviously!”

“Yagami’s right,” Akasato says, pleased he’s not the topic of conversation anymore. “Are you sure you’ve got enough game for that, Yamamoto? I think you’d faint if a girl held your hand.”

“I’ve had girlfriends!”

“Sure, sure,” Light says. They all laugh. It’s nice having friends. “Oh, here’s my stop.”

“See ya!”

Light enters the house. Gives his mother his test grades, lets her coo, then slips into his room and heads for the drawer.

There it is. Untouched.

Who needs soulmates, he thinks, when you can be the god of the new world?

-

Misa sits cross-legged on a repurposed picnic blanket spread awkwardly over the wet dirt. She sticks one rose each into the soil in front of her parents’ graves.

“Hey, mom, dad,” she starts. “I’m not gonna come back for a while.”

The graves are silent. They have been for almost a year now. One rose almost falls over; Misa hurriedly reaches to fix it.

“I’m going to move to Kanto,” she declares. “I’ll catch him no matter what I do. I know which jail he’s in already. The prosecutor told me.”

She sticks the rose back in with some violence. It droops. All the other ones she’s brought have wilted — obviously, because their stems were cut ages ago. She can’t plant seeds, though. That would require someone watering them.

“I’ll ask for a visit and get him to attack me,” she continues. “And then I’ll stab him, and I’ll scream, and I’ll tell everyone it was self-defense. What do you think, Mom?” She’d always been better at lying than Dad.

“Good idea? I knew it.” Misa hops up, brushing the dirt off the picnic blanket. “I’ll start getting ready soon. Next month, I think. Definitely.”

-

“Ah,” says the voice from the television screen. “I had to test this, just in case, but I-I never thought it would actually happen… Kira. It seems you can kill people without having to be there in person.”

Light freezes.

He was wrong, he realizes, for possibly the first time in his life. He was wrong. Someone’s out there.

“Try to kill me,” L’s saying, and Light can hear the smirk even through unknowable kilometers of distance. “What’s wrong? Go ahead! Can’t you do it?”

“You bastard,” Light hisses through his teeth, feeling so alive he could cry.

He shouts I am justice at the same time L does, grinning, half-manic, and doesn’t even realize he’s clutching his wrist.

-

“Please,” says the stalker in the shadows, “please, Misa-Misa, I just need to — I just need to touch —”

Misa backs away. This is a dead end alleyway. She should never have gone to the convenience store at night. Her and her empty refrigerator and her stupid hungry stomach. There’s a fire escape, maybe if she jumps—

“Can you even fucking hear me?” The stalker shouts.

Misa nods, automatic, and wonders if she should scream. No one’s around at this time of day. Who would even miss her?

“Just one touch,” the stalker says. “Come on!”

And then in a flash he’s running for her. Misa turns and sprints and leaps for the fire escape — and misses it. She collapses in a heap.

Her stalker has his hand on her cheek. She jerks away. Of all the fucking days she could have forgotten her pepper spray.

“It’s not you,” the stalker says, abruptly sounding like he’s about to cry. “How could it not be you?”

“Get away from me,” Misa says, stumbling to her feet.

“All the interviews I watched,” the stalker says. “I have all your magazines, Misa-Misa!”

“I haven’t been in that many issues,” says whoever is operating Misa’s vocal cords as she calculates her chances. She has to catch him by surprise, it’s the only opportunity she’s got, shove him and run—

Oh. He has a knife. Never mind that, then.

“At least we can die together,” the stalker says — or — tries to say. Misa watches in shock as his mouth clicks shut and he… turns away?

And then he clutches his chest, and he falls.

Misa stays there, sucks in a few more breaths of cold air, then runs.

-

@kiyomitakada (so i can reblog)

[theeminentlyimpractical]

what neurodivergence is it that I have to put down a fanfic for a moment when oh my god it’sHAPPENING.gif? I need to physically shake myself out and get back into it like a football player who’s just been sacked on the third down.