#and THAT was when i blocked spoilers with official intent to eventually watch

[starbuck]

Lalo being slaughtered on and then entombed in the floor of the superlab, call that a foundational sacrifice.

[project-ohagi]

Keigo Takami ღ Hawks x Reader 1/4

Buy me a coffee!! <3

[A/N]: Light spoilers for anime-onlys.

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety/Depression, Mentions of Self-Harm and Attempted Suicide.

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Parts 2 / 3 / 4

You said 'Forever'. The gentle dripping of tears was being drowned out, not only by your depressive thoughts, but by the music playing full-blast. Was that all just a lie? Did I ever really mean anything to you? Was I ever truly special? Was I just being used?...Did you throw me away?

Songs proclaiming solitude, misery and heartbreak were echoing off the walls, while in desperation, you hoped and prayed that they would be enough to block out your desolate cries. They resonated as the wretched sobs of angels, as you tried urgently to grapple the truth, to understand where…and when, everything collapsed around you. It is often claimed that the gods bequeath the hardest battles to their toughest soldiers, but your fragile soul was shattering under the weight of their expectations. Couldn’t that be any more obvious? Or were you supposed to splinter, further and further, until nothing was left save for a few, worthless pieces? What was anyone to do with them? The man who had swooped up your heart, fancying to toy with it, yet unwittingly becoming invested…the one who always cherished you, even amidst the darkness - the emotional storm…he was finally gone. You wondered if all the special events, birthdays, Valentine's…did he ever hold them dear?...Or were they replaceable, just like you?

You wondered if he had discovered a new adventure, whether he was bedding another, or had been, behind your back…The anguish dulled your usual, bright sparkle, your passion for life…everything. You wished so badly for a second chance. What had you done to warrant such blatant disregard, such ignorance of your very existence? What had you done? If only he would whisper those much-needed words…even if you must strain to hear them…you would launch yourself at any opportunity to remedy this. Whichever of your actions he disagreed with, you could make it right.

You could make it right…together!

There was no-one else - no family, no friends. Without Keigo, you had nothing, and nothing mattered anymore. Both of you harboured issues, pertaining to trust and otherwise, so despite a two-year relationship, you still lived apart. Although, items reminding of him littered nearly every inch of your apartment. He always spoke so earnestly of wanting to relocate you, but life…personal problems…there was forever something blocking you, like…the very fabric of your beings would unravel if you got too close, too…intimate. As the dirges struck your ears, almost managing to muffle completely your incessant cries, you found a couple of his old shirts - ones he had gifted to you, so you wouldn’t be too lonely in his absence. Of course, they weren't anything compared to him and his warm, loving embraces, but they retained his scent…and it was heavenly.

You couldn’t resist, as much as your mind fought to, wrapping yourself once more in his fragrance…his memory. You savoured it, and your dormant self-loathing started to attack, more ferociously than ever before. Why did he leave? Well, wasn’t that obvious? He despised you, even more than you did. It wasn’t difficult for your mind to believe, but your heart…

…Your heart was a different story entirely.

It remained true to him. It stayed loyal, in spite of the agonising pain. It just couldn’t fathom how…why…He had no reason to up and leave, without so much as mentioning it. Every call forwarded straight to voicemail; he never picked up, never contacted you back, never made an effort to reach out. You couldn’t help worrying for his health, for his safety, but you were breaking. He was your whole world, and he just…disappeared. You hadn’t even seen him flying around the city, although you knew he was there. So, he was simply avoiding you. Hawks…the extraordinary, wonderful man, to whom you owed your very life…He had long become your hero - the only hero you required.

He was your saviour, your knight in shining armour…the one who lifted you from the chasm of self-doubt, of…anxiety and depression, in a way. He never failed to shield you from your demons, even at their most potent. But…he didn’t see the manifest torture, the harm you inflicted upon your skin. He couldn’t make the time, nor the energy. You disguised them so, incredibly well…He just couldn’t have noticed. He couldn’t have possibly comprehended the extent of your dark ideations…everything you wished to achieve.

Rather…the endgame. The method to the madness, the reason for all the pain, all the suffering. It was death. Of course it was death. You certainly didn’t expect anything less, but Keigo…would he be horrified, if he eventually returned, hoping to make amends, only to discover a corpse…the lifeless shell of his former lover? Would he feel regret? Loss? Sorrow? Or would he rejoice, that he was no longer shackled to such an expendable person, such a burden on his dreams? He desired to fly freely, unimpeded, right? Well…maybe you would grant his wish. Or maybe the universe would. Either way, he wouldn’t be obliged to love you anymore, to cuddle with you, share his snacks, or lie awake at night, listening intently as you described how horribly the world had treated you.

"I guess this is goodbye…Keigo." You muttered, staring at the piles upon piles of shirts, trying desperately to hold back the floodgates.

If only you had been clued in on his mission to infiltrate the League of Villains…if only he was allowed to send a message. But he wasn't. They refused it. They stressed the dangers, manipulated him at his weakest - when you nestled at the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t risk getting you involved, couldn’t risk…you being tortured, killed, or something worse. But…informing you of his absence, instead of simply leaving…why wouldn’t they permit that? It should have been safe. Just a note...something! He understood their hatred of you, but it was unfounded, petty. You never once dragged him away from them, from his work, so why? Why did they resort to such underhanded tactics, to split the two of you apart? Out of everyone they could have selected for this covert mission…why did it have to be the guy with so much to lose? You served as his guiding light, the one thing keeping the officials at the Safety Commission alive, and clear of his wrath.

Why were they so blind to that? It was always something new - you were spotted with another man, lip-locked and living it up, or you were being irresponsible, partying every other day, with three men on your arm. Their tall stories were ridiculous. They tried to convince him that you embodied some vile, evil seductress. They said you wouldn’t remain faithful, that his time was wasted on you.

Could they have been any more wrong?

Cursing under his breath, he whispered, "Wait for me, angel. I promise, I'll be with you soon. Just, please…wait for me."

How was he to know that nobody caught you, nobody saved you? That they all just watched, as you fell…? On who would he place the blame? Civilians, whom he protected at any cost? The Commission, who raised him, who brainwashed him into becoming what he was? Or, would he blame himself?

Only time would grant the answer.

[Word Count: 1202]

[bowenandjohnson]

The Aftermath

Basically, Colin & Farrah own my heart. 

Short one-shot set after the season 1 finale of Youth & Consequences. Spoilers beware! Read under the cut!

If you had asked Farrah Cutney what she thought she’d be doing on her Winter Break off from Central Rochester this year, she once would have probably said something along the lines of either going skiing in Aspen with Hurley, Jayne, and Plain Jane, or attending the Winter Ball tonight with Will. Former Farrah wouldn’t believe that Current Farrah was willingly sitting across from Stacey Moorehead on her bedroom floor setting up a game of bridge.

Stacey Moorehead was the former best friend for a reason, but now she was one of the only people Farrah could talk to, without fear of a glare or a sneer aimed her way. The fact of the matter was, of course, that Stacey and Farrah were now both former somethings: Stacey was the former BFF, and Farrah was now the former It Girl of CRHS, currently fallen from grace.

She had expected backlash from revealing she was the anonymous blogger called “The Crotch” in September--at least one part of the blog. Colin and Dipankar were the other two parts of it, but they hadn’t come forward. Of course, she had been the one to fall on her own sword for Tripp, and for Colin. She didn’t give a shit about Dipankar, but at least, he hadn’t tried to take back control of the Crotch after she came forward to claim the title. Neither had Colin. The Crotch was effectively vanquished, at least for this year.

Her parents had been called into Principal Cowher’s office. Superintendent Moorehead sat on one couch with Colin’s mother, while Farrah had to sit sandwiched between her mom and dad on the sofa facing them. She had to pretend that she was intently listening, but to be honest, she was hyper focused on the fact that her father was growing increasingly tense beside her. 

They wanted to expel her, at least at the first meeting, but Moorehead’s tune had changed by a week later. Farrah figured her dad had a private conversation with the superintendent. Her mom was just disappointed. Farrah’s wreaking digital havoc on the school had taken everything out of her again, and she had to restart anew for the second time since the separation. No one wanted to be associated with a cyberbully’s mother.

Principal Cowher’s voice still rang in her head. “Well, considering the circumstances of your home life into account, Farrah, we are not going to press charges. We have talked this over with both your parents, and members of the community. We, however, still require a formal letter of apology for me, the school district, and Tripp, considering your actions got him into a car accident. We are also going to give you in-school suspension for three weeks, and mandatory community service and counseling for the time being.”

All Farrah could do in that moment was nod woodenly. She couldn’t fight the principal. Not now that she thought that Farrah had ridiculed her and her dead husband all over cyberspace.

The following Monday, Farrah arrived at 9 AM, after classes had started. Her spot was no longer reserved, and Hurley’s black car took up new residence where hers used to. She was forced to park in the last row, furthest from the school. Gabe met her at the doors, and led her into a room off of the administrative offices, colored a bland white, furnished with rows of desks. Principal Cowher was standing there, waiting for her. She was going to help tutor her, until they could find a good enough tutor to step in. Cowher had said something around the lines of “putting her Master’s degree to good use.”

Those late starts were almost like a reprieve from having to face everything and everyone she had hurt, but after the bell rang at 3 PM, she was forced to leave when everyone else did. The first day, she merely tried to blend in, sunglasses perched on her nose, but Grace Ho was right behind her. Hissing loudly so everyone could hear, she said, “Wow, Farrah. It’s so good to see you back. I’ll make sure to tell Will you say hey.” Plain Jane laughed in her ear. Stacey remained silent for a moment, before saying, “Grace. Enough.”

“Why not? She thought she could play around with everyone else. You’re lucky, Farrah. If you were a man, you’d be dead right now.” Ilo appeared in front of her suddenly, blocking the way. Farrah was forced to stop in her tracks.

“Kill me now, Ilo. Being sexist, really? I could take you.” Her retort was still biting, but it didn’t seem to phase anyone that much anymore. Everyone was closing in around her, looking like she used to, as predators circling their prey.

“Ilo. She’s not worth it. She’s just a glorified puppet master with no more strings to pull. Just walk away, please.” She hadn’t expected to hear his voice. Especially directed at Ilo in such a manner. Farrah turned, searching the crowd for one Colin Cowher. Their eyes locked for a moment that felt like a century, and then he finally looked away, clearing his throat. “My mom is going to have a field day with this, and I’m pretty sure Mountain View wouldn’t want to take you on for a second offense.” His voice was clear, even. Not at all quavery like the voice of her Colin.

“Just watch your back, Cutney. We’re all watching you now.” Ilo’s voice was angry and barely controlled. Brandon Swain, Hurley and Jayne appeared at his side. Hurley whispered to him gently, and Brandon tugged at his arm. They turned, not even tossing her a second glance. The rest of the student body was shock-still. He wasn’t lying. Every set of eyes was on her as she quickly made her way down to the hall, and into the safety of her car before starting to cry. The new Farrah Cutney cried a lot in that first week after the aftermath of Homecoming.

But she didn’t regret her decision. It was the right one, even if she missed her friends, Will, and Colin. Everyone else would move on eventually. So Farrah Cutney learned to square her shoulders, avert her eyes, and say nothing unless it was absolutely required to fight back.

Farrah passed Stacey a few more cards, but Stacey seemed more focused on trying to decipher her mood than play bridge. “So, are you finally ready to come clean? I know there’s more to the story, Farrah.”

She sighed. They had been over this multiple times since that night. “No. Stacey, I told you. I was the Crotch, and it was only me running the show.”

“Officially. I know Cowher was in on it too, unofficially.”

“Why are you still so focused on this, Stacey? So you can somehow create another scandal, and run off to tell your new BFF’s, the Gracies?” Her voice turned cruel, sharp as a knife. Stop, Stacey, just stop. Shut up now.

But this time, Stacey forged on. “So it is true. Why are you still keeping up your story, Farrah? It’s been three months of hell for you, and the whole thing almost got you kicked out of school. Why would you sacrifice so much for the principal’s son?”

Farrah paused to take a deep breath, staring down at her lap. Her voice slipped into a practiced tone of indifference. “Colin was nothing but a pawn, someone I could control. I was just pulling the strings of a puppet.” 

“You looked down at your lap before you said that. That’s your tell, Farrah. You’ve gotten sloppy without Hurley and Jayne to keep you on your toes. You care about him, don’t you?”

“It’s not like that. I had Will, Stace. You know, former star of the football team. Tall, sexy as all hell?”

“I never said you had feelings for him, Far. But I think you just admitted that you do.” Stacey’s face brightened, her mouth widening into a smile.

“Don’t laugh at me, Moorehead.” Farrah looked down at her lap, and then at the forgotten playing cards between them on the plush carpet. She felt her face heating up. The former Farrah Cutney didn’t blush. She didn’t get embarrassed. But everything had changed.

“I’m not. I’m happy for you, actually. Colin’s sweet.”

“Except now he hates my guts. And there’s nothing I can do about it.” Farrah leaned against the end of her bed and sighed deeply. “With Will, it was just easier, you know?”

Stacey merely nodded. “He was the ideal, the fantasy guy everyone wanted. Meanwhile, Cowher is smart, sweet, funny... and has major anxiety issues. And what did I do? I went and screwed myself over because I had to protect him. I had to make him hate me, so I used his anxiety and his feelings for me against him. Told him it was all a ploy.”

“Why don’t you just be honest with him then? Tell him how you really feel. I don’t think he exactly hates you. The boy still stares at you like you hung the moon.”

“Really?” Farrah’s eyes snapped wide open. “I have to talk to him.” She stood, almost drunkenly in her haste to find her boots, rushing down the stairs. Stacey followed close behind. 

“I’ll give you a ride. I have to get ready for the dance anyway. Jane and Grace are getting ready at my house.” 

“And you risked coming over here in the first place? Stacey, that’s social suicide.” Farrah turned to look at her.

“I thought you might need a friend.” 

Farrah merely nodded, and gave her hand a squeeze, quick. “Mom! Stacey’s dropping me off at my friend’s house!”

“Which friend? God knows you don’t have many of those anymore.” Kate Cutney’s voice was tinged with bitterness as she sat at the kitchen table. Farrah knew she deserved it. She just screwed over everyone, didn’t she?

She paused before saying, “I need to make some amends with my friend, Colin. I’ll be back soon. I love you.”

“Back by 10. I love you too.” Kate’s voice softened a bit, and Stacey merely gave a wave, as they headed out the door.

By the time they reached the Cowher house, Farrah’s heart was racing. The trailer was lit up, meaning he was home. Stacey wished her luck as she dropped her at the end of the driveway, and the car eased down the street. She was alone now, but somehow more alive than she had been for the past three months. She felt happier, giddy even. Most of all, she was ready to be honest with him.

She knew what she wanted to say to him, so Farrah didn’t have to think too hard. She hoped he was alone, Principal Cowher would probably be at the school already for the dance. One apology at a time, she thought. She stayed silent as she approached the trailer door, rapping on it in time with her uneven heart. And she heard it, “Come in, Mom!” Thank God. He hadn’t heard Stacey’s car.

Farrah reached for a screwdriver that was no longer there. With disbelief, she realized Colin had finally gotten the door fixed. A pang of nostalgia hit her as she eased open the door.

“Colin?” Her voice was raspy as she stepped uneasily into the trailer. “It’s me. Farrah.”

His head whipped up. “Why are you here?” He had that stupid, lovely guitar in his hands again.

She opened her mouth, and the words flew. “I wanted to tell you the truth, which I don’t think I’ve been telling lately. I’ve just been going through the motions, and the truth is that I hate it. I was talking to Stacey, and she helped me realize that I need my friends. I need you, Colin. You are the best person I know. I shouldn't have hurt you, even though you were so wrong about me. I did handpick you. I’m not lying about that, I’m not, and I hope you can forgive me. But the truth is that you are sweet, and caring, and funny, and really good at singing and playing the guitar. The truth is that I fucked up, and I like you. Like like-like you, and I understand if you hate me, and I don’t deserve anything from you after what I said. I will turn around and never talk to you again, if that’s what you want, Colin Cowher. But I just needed you to know that. That you are the best person I know.” Farrah stopped rambling then, and gauged his reaction. 

Colin’s eyes were wide as saucers, but he recovered fairly quickly, clearing his throat. “I thought you were never going to come back.” The words hit her like a brick wall.

“I thought you didn’t want me here.” She walked closer then, motioning a hand to sit on the couch.

He nods, and scooted over, making room for her. “I didn’t want you here at first. I hated you for a while. But then I realized what you did.”

“What I did?” Farrah glanced up at him, scanning his face.

“You’re talking to the king of defense mechanisms, remember? You thought you needed to push me away, to push everyone away, to really sell the whole Crotch thing. To make everyone hate you.”

“Well, you’re right. I just wanted to protect you.”

“By hurting me.” He said the words flatly, dragging them out.

“And I know that was wrong, and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know.” He put down the guitar, and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She can smell him, the faint tones of laundry soap and deodorant wafting off his shirt. She once teased him by telling he smelled. She was lying.

“How are you so sure? I wouldn’t trust an ice queen like me ever again.”

“You fell on your sword for me. The average person wouldn’t do that. You, Farrah Cutney, aren’t an ice queen. You are the white knight rushing into battle for anyone and everyone, even though you are scared shitless by anyone seeing you as kind or empathetic. You like being seen as someone to be feared, the queen bee. But that is not who you are. At least not to me.”

“I don’t know what to say.” She embraced him, breathing in. This trailer is where she felt the most at home.

 “Farrah?”

“Yeah?” Her voice was muffled by his shirt.

“I like-like you too. I always have.” He kissed her softly on the top of her head.