#anyways i take pride in being a library adult

[whataboutyouisamascot]

Hello my local library

My local library, I love you

I love you, hello my local library

[cillianhead]

Hello dear!!! I hope you're having a wonderful day!

Could you please write a piece about Cillian falling for a (younger!) poet? He starts frequenting her reading sessions and that's how they meet. The rest is up to you!

Thank you 🩵

Yes!! Love this, thank you <3

Enjoy my sweet nonny!

This is heavily inspired by the song All Too Well (10-minute version) (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift!!

Wind In My Hair, I Was There || Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: Smut, angst, age gap (reader is in her mid to late twenties, Cillian is in his forties.), swearing, Cillian is sort of an asshole in this in some parts, so that is a warning, infidelity (Cillian is married), general adult content ahead!!

Minors DNI! 18+

I'd also like to clarify this isn't really based on the real Cillian!! I know he's married and very happy, this is just fiction and fantasy!! Not meant to portray Cillian as a bad person!! I'd also like to clarify that the ready doesn't really know who Cillian is... or maybe like Cillian isn't that famous in this fic universe or something because there are a few plot points that may seem questionable... that's all. Anyway... enjoy!!

The autumn you spent with Cillian Murphy would be one you would always remember, not that you really had a choice in whether or not you could forget him.

Your apartment was small and cozy at the time, with a perfect view of the falling leaves outside. It was sitting across from a small park in New York City; the trees were red and orange, and it felt like the fall was putting on a show just for you. You felt fortunate and privileged to live in such a place.

You lived right up the road from a small cafe with a library. Every Thursday, you meet with like-minded writers and read your work aloud. It helped bring you out of your shell; you felt a sense of pride when you read your poetry out loud and had people praise you for being so brave and how well you wrote. Despite the fact you have been attending these little group meetings for almost two years now and you felt pretty comfortable amongst the people who were there, you felt like you could vomit your pounding heart right up every time you stood at that podium in front of the dozen or so people that attended. But even with the lump in your throat, you'd read with a shaky voice and tears ready to spill, you would receive the same round of applause every time and a pat on the back from some of the attendees you were closer with.

It was September 14th when you first saw him, but it wasn't the first time he had seen you, summer still lingering in the air but barely grasping on as Autumn began to take the reigns. You were standing at that cedar-wood podium, reading aloud as nervously as you always did. You had yet to notice him quietly slip in; you were too busy ensuring you were on the right line.

"-And something beautiful sprouted, something that I am not... something that I never will be." You looked up after reading the last line, biting your lip nervously and stepping back from the speaking podium. There he sat, in a sweater and the most hypnotizing eyes you had ever seen. Maybe love at first sight was real, you thought briefly. People clapped, but the room remained silent and still for you as you two made eye contact; he didn't clap; he just stared at you with a look that told you he was just as taken aback by you as you were by him.

He kept attending the sessions, but he never got up and read anything and never really interacted with anyone else; in fact, you'd see him get up and leave once you had finished reading your poetry. You wondered if anyone else noticed him the way you did, or maybe he was a figment of your imagination... a ghost.

It was October 19th when you first spoke with him. You dreamt about him day and night, and you two had never even spoken before every session; you'd wonder if he'd be there, and he always was. Sitting in the same seat, at the very back, going ultimately unnoticed by almost everyone but you.

"Excuse me, sir!" You yelled out, rushing to follow the man in the plaid shirt and beanie. "You dropped this!" It was a pair of keys you had clutched in your hand, the crisp autumn air meeting the apples of your cheeks.

He turned around, only a foot or two away from you, as he looked at you up and down, taking notice of his keys in your hand. "Oh gosh, thank you, love," He took the keys gently out of your hand, his fingers lingering on yours a little too long for a stranger, fingertips brushing together. "I swear I'd lose my head if it weren't screwed on." You took notice of his Irish accent. It made you even more curious to know him better. "Erm... thank you so much."

"It's no problem..." You trailed off. You're not sure what to say now. He gave you a stiff nod and started to turn around and keep walking, but you just couldn't let him leave. "Wait!" What do you say now?

"Yeah?" He turned around, tilting his head at you, blue eyes staring at you, waiting.

"I... I'm Y/N... by the way... I always see you here... but I never see you read anything..."

"Cillian," He chuckled. "Not interested in reading anything I've written, only here to listen." Cillian's response was short but straight to the point.

"You don't stick around for very long... you always leave after... I've finished reading my writing..."

"Well... your work is the only one I come to listen to. The rest of the lots' poems just go in one ear and out the other," He said honestly. "You've got a charm about you; I've never heard anything like what you write. It's unique and intelligent, cleverly crafted written pieces... It captures my attention, unlike the rest, which all seem like people trying to mimic someone else... you write from your heart... or your head... I can't decide which, really." He notices your silence, Cillian steps a bit closer to you. "Perhaps I've said too much." He mumbles. The proximity of where he stands is close enough that you can feel his warmth, a stark contrast to how cold it was outside. "You've surely captivated me, Y/N." He said your name like it was a sacred prayer.

You felt like your heart was in your throat, looking at him dumbfounded and unsure what to say. "That's... very flattering, I don't know what to say... thank you, Cillian..." You scratch behind your ear, swaying nervously on your feet. Cars honked, and people passed by as you two stood outside the little cafe, which was now closed since the reading sessions had ended. Cillian looked around awkwardly before sucking in a deep breath and exhaling, his breath visible out in the open air due to how cold it was.

"Would you like to go out for dinner with me?" Cillian looked at you, eyes reflecting the city lights. The moment felt like something from a movie or something you'd write a poem about. It felt like something that wasn't quite possible within these depths of reality. "I understand... if not... you're a young beautiful woman... probably got someone waitin' at home for y-" "N-No, I'd love to!" You interrupted him, with your heart racing. "I'd love to go to dinner with you... I don't have anyone at home... waiting for me..."

"Well, aren't I lucky... when are you free?" He gave you a smile, the first you'd ever seen from him. It made his usually sombre face light up; he grinned, making you feel all giddy.

"I'm free any time on the weekends... and on Tuesdays, I have work off, so... I would love to... see you this weekend, maybe?"

"Wonderful, Saturday evening, you and me?"

You nodded. You exchanged numbers and went on your merry way, walking down the streets of New York City with a smile on your face that was purely gleeful. People would give you looks, but you didn't care. You were excited about something for once. You obsessed over it for the next day and a half.

October 21st marked your very first date with Cillian Murphy. At six, you waited patiently outside your apartment building in the cold air. With a red scarf wrapped around your neck your nose runny from the autumnal weather, you looked around like a lost puppy.

"Y/N," Cillian's warm voice startled you from behind you. You jumped but swiftly turned around to look at him, a bashful smile on both of your faces. "You look lovely." You felt your heart pound at the sight of him.

"Thank you. You also look lovely yourself." You replied. He leaned in and kissed your cheek before taking your hand in his and guiding you down the street. The feeling of his hand in yours made the cold weather seem like summer. Your body lit in flames at the idea he wanted you close to him. And the feeling of his lips on your cheek remained there the whole evening, burning its mark into your skin.

The night went on, and you found yourself in a charming Italian restaurant. It was nothing too fancy, but it was nice and romantic for a first date, definitely nicer than any other places other guys have taken you. It was just the two of you sitting towards the back, in a small booth, eating your plates of pasta. You talked, and you talked, and you talked. He spoke about how he was an actor; you could see his eyes light up at his passion for his work. He told you he was in New York for work and was filming a movie for something he couldn't legally disclose yet. Your chemistry was magnetic, and the conversation would weave in and out of different subjects. You talked about anything and everything, things like masculinity, The Beatles, the incident that happened on your 21st Birthday, batman, and everything else there was to discuss. You felt like you had known him forever. He said the same thing and referred to you two as twin flames. When you were about to leave, his phone began to ring.

"Fuckin' hell, what is it now?" He groaned. "Probably just a wrong number... or somethin'... hold on, love." He stepped outside, and you watched him on the phone. Cillian looked angry and frustrated, like he was arguing over the phone with someone. Your heart, which once rode the waves of love and joy, now sank beneath them into the deep dark depths of navy blue and dismay, watching him grow angrier and angrier and yell over the phone. He was seeing red.

When he waved for you to come out, you approached him cautiously. He huffed, puffed, and fidgeted his hands in his pockets, clearly restless. "Who was that? Are you okay?" "It was no one," He replied shortly and coldly. "I'm fine, let's go." You didn't say a word after that. The tension was thicker than the cold. You were afraid of saying anything to further upset him. So silence was the answer as he walked you home. You felt disappointed that this was how the night was ending. You wondered who it was and what they had said that had upset him so badly. The familiar apartment building you called home came closer and closer within sight, the disappointment weighing you down like water in your shoes. The disappointment tracing every inch of your freezing skin.

You stood in your elevator with him. He promised to walk you back to your unit at least, and he kept that promise. "Would you like to come in... Cillian?" You asked. You pulled out your house key and unlocked the door, looking at him hopefully.

"No, I'd better not." He remained cold and rigid with you. He couldn't even bring himself to give you a smile. You felt you'd never see him again; maybe he didn't like you the way you thought he did. Maybe he found you obnoxious and dumb. Perhaps the phone call was from another woman he realized was better than you. Maybe you simply needed to be better for him. "Goodnight, Y/N." He turned and walked away; you couldn't speak as tears welled in your eyes. Sorrow built up within you like some sort of horrible game of Jenga; one wrong move and you'd come crashing down and falling apart all over the place.

"Goodnight..." You whispered, but by then, he'd already stepped into the elevator, and the doors shut, taking him away from you. You cried yourself to sleep that night, both out of self-pity and disappointment.

When you awoke, it was to the sounds of soft raps on your front door. It was eight in the morning. Padding gently down the hallway, floorboards creaking, sleep still in your eyes, and your face puffy from the tears that leaked from your tear ducts the previous night, you opened the door, expecting it to be a neighbor asking you if they could borrow some sugar or something along those lines.

"Good morning," Cillian stood at your door, this time with a big apologetic smile, a complete change from last night's cold demeanour. He held a pink, yellow, and white bouquet and a small paper bag in his other hand. "I came here to apologize... for how I treated you last night." "Come in." You ushered him in.

He noted your knick-knacks, the photos on your walls, and your old, worn-out furniture. The way you decorated the place stood out to him, but the look on your face stood out to him the most. Sad, tired eyes, puffy and glazed over, you looked at him expectantly. "I'm so sorry." He whispered to you.

"What for?" You asked as you sat in your favorite olive green armchair. It was velvet and soft, and you'd spend most of your time writing, reading, or drinking your morning cup of coffee.

"For treating you like I didn't care," He sighed. He sat on the leather sofa beside you, gently placing the flowers on your glass coffee table and the paper bag smelling of freshly baked goods. "I don't want to discuss exactly who it was or what happened on that phone call... but I... I shouldn't have shut you out just because I was upset... that was... wrong of me, and I'm sorry." Your anger and sadness dissipated the way a fire dissipates when it's being smothered: immediately. His big blue eyes were the blanket that hushed that flame out, striking him as immediately forgiven.

"I understand, Cillian..." You mumbled, pulling your knees up to your chest. "Things happen... it's alright... I...." You wanted to confront him and tell him how insignificant and stupid he made you feel, but you swallowed it back and gave him a small smile. You remained the people pleaser you always have been. You spared his feelings over your own. "I understand." You repeated.

"I thought... I would make it up to you," He pushed the small paper bag over to you. "We could spend the day together... if you don't already have plans."

The paper bag contained a chocolate eclair. You had written a poem that mentioned eating a chocolate eclair while in a made-up love affair. The rhyming was cheesy, but it was one of Cillian's favorite poems of yours. It was the first one he had heard from you. Of course, you didn't realize the irony of it at the time. You just grinned and accepted it happily. You didn't know that you were engaging in a relationship with a man who was already married. So you took a bite of the eclair, letting him into your fragile heart, and entered this sad and tragic love affair.

So you spent the whole day together. You walked around New York City, holding hands and laughing your heads off. It felt romantic and intimate, and you got to know each other even deeper than you did before. You kissed under a stop sign and shared sweet nothings. The clouds rolled over, and the sky opened up. The rain watered you down like a pair of leaves in a pot plant, and you both ran through Central Park, trying to find the nearest shelter until you came across a large oak tree. It was something out of a movie, sitting together, soaking wet, staring at each other as lightning strikes in the distance. The wind was in your hair, and his lips were on yours.

You spent pretty much every day together after that. You made love in every room of your apartment, cherishing each other's bodies. Cillian would sit in that cafe, and he would clap after your readings and then reward you with a kiss when you got back down to him. You wrote poetry about him, and he would write some for you. It was a beautiful, quiet, little harmonious relationship you had going on. You found yourself falling in love. You thought he was, too, though you never said it out loud.

He even met your dad. They got along quite well. Your dad didn't seem to mind that Cillian was only a few years younger than him (and much older than you). Your dad just wanted to see you happy and safe. In fact, your dad told you he had never seen you more content. Cillian made your dad laugh, they got along like old friends. Seeing them bonding and getting along made you incredibly happy and excited.

On November 16th, at noon, you got ready to go to where he was staying, wrapping that red scarf around your neck again and stepping out into the living room where Cillian waited for you with eyes full of affection. You had packed a small bag since Cillian told you he was staying at his sister's house in upstate New York. She was away at the moment. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen." He hummed jollily. You wrapped your arm through his and went down to the lobby.

His car had that new car smell, clearly a rental. "No matter how often I've stayed in America, I never get used to driving on the wrong side of the road." Cillian chuckled, exiting his parking spot and beginning the long drive to his sister's house.

The drive was beautiful. Driving through the city and slowly entering into suburban areas, red and brown trees lining the streets, Halloween decorations on display, and music playing through the radio, you both sang along to the words happily. The drive was surreal and peaceful. You drove down a long country road, and the tall trees created a tunnel above you. Only small slits of the grey sky could be seen through the scarlet leaves.

"We're here, Y/N," Cillian smiled at you, stepping out of the car and walking off without you. You hurriedly got out of the car with your things. "Oh, lock the car for me, the button doesn't work... please, love." He tossed you the car keys, not looking where he was throwing them, and they landed in the dirt before you. You ignored how it made you feel (stupid, insignificant, small), picking up the dirty keys and locking the car manually before rushing over to where he was unlocking the door.

The house was nice and quiet and far from the rest of civilization. It felt like home somehow. It is decorated nicely with photos of his sister and her husband, even some with Cillian when he was younger. It was getting dark by now, and you set your belongings down in the guest bedroom where Cillian was staying. You never asked when he was going back to Ireland. You didn't wanna know. You wanted to appreciate your time together instead of counting down the days.

Cillian cooked you dinner and shared a long, loving kiss to say thanks. You sat cuddled up on the couch together afterwards, your crimson scarf hanging over the stair railing as you rested your head lovingly on his shoulder. An old Western movie played in the background, but you were too busy holding each other and whispering sweet things.

"Cillian..." You whispered, pressing soft kisses along his stubbly jaw. "I'm so happy you brought me here... this feels so special." "I'm so happy to have you here, Y/N." He whispered back. Cillian pulled you into his lap. "This is special, just you and me... here... I'm going to make you my own." You wanted to tell him, 'I'm already yours, Cillian; my heart and soul are yours', but you remained silent, smiling dopily at him.

And with those charming words, you kissed him. Flashes of red played through your mind, fireworks sounding off in your head as your lips danced together. His hands cradled your head as you made out nice and slow. Both in your pyjamas now, warming each other up, hands running up and down his back. Cillian's hands wandered down your back until they rested on the tops of your hips, his thumb fiddling with the waistband of your sweatpants.

"Take them off." You hummed, raising your hips slightly off of his, and he obeyed, sliding your pants off until you were only in your panties. Cillian observed how you sat back down on his lap, the lace scrunched up, showing off the curve of your ass.

"I'm going to ravish you." He growled, eyeing you up and down. The timbre of his voice caused your thighs to tightly squeeze together. He pressed you down onto the couch, slipping his pants down until he was just in his briefs. He slipped your shirt over your tits, breasts bouncing out of their containment and straight into his mouth. He sucked happily on your nipples until you were a panting mess, begging for more. "Let me feel you, sweetheart."

"Please..." You exasperated. "Please... Cillian."

Two nimble fingers slipped under your lace underwear, straight down to where your arousal pooled. "So wet f'me, always so wet, aren't you, baby?" He groaned, fingers teasing your slit before sliding back up to rub circles on your clit.

"You know what you do to me..." You breathed out, biting your cherry red lips and closing your eyes, embracing the pleasure. "Always so wet for you, Cillian..."

The way Cillian cradled you in his strong arms as his fingers caressed you to your peak was the most intimate thing you had ever experienced. His eyes watched your face contort with pleasure, mouth open and spilling sounds of satisfaction as you came on his fingers.

"That's it, baby... doing so good," He whispered, kissing your cheek. "So beautiful."

You lolled your head to the side, panting and looking at him with a dazed grin. "Please fuck me."

Cillian laughed at your words. "Such a dirty mouth!" He teased as he tugged down his pants. "Gonna fuck you nice and slow, gonna show you how much you mean to me, love."

Then, in the dim light of the TV and the moon shining through the window, you made love like it was your last night on Earth. Hands ran up and down each other's bodies, trying to savor every final touch. Lips captured together, your bodies working as one, the love was there, glimmering in the light. No words could explain how you felt then; nothing else existed to you, just him and his hands all over your body. You and him for the rest of eternity, at least; that's how it felt in your heart.

You held each other tight in bed, clinging on for dear life. You listened to his heart slow as he slept and the way he breathed. You wondered if he dreamt about you the way you dreamt of him. Eventually, you fell asleep at midnight after watching his pretty face sleeping.

At three in the morning, you wake to an empty bed. Sitting up with a sweat, where did Cillian go? You slip out from under the covers, wincing at the room's cold air that meets your bare legs. You wore one of Cillian's button-ups, only the middle button holding it together as you slowly creep out of the room, listening to the sound of quiet music from the kitchen.

"Cillian?" You called out, cautious and slightly afraid at how dark the house is. It was a lot quieter than you were used to. You were a city girl, unfamiliar with the countryside silence.

"Y/N?" You heard, which relieved your paranoid mind.

Down the stairs, Cillian stood in the fridge's light, soft music playing through a small radio on the kitchen counter. "What're you doing up, Cillian?" You worriedly walked over to him, arms reached out as he turned to look at you, only in his sleep shorts.

"Just needed a midnight snack. I'm alright, my love," He smiled sleepily, with a sheepish look since he wasn't fully awake yet. "C'mere... dance with me."

"Oh... Cillian..." You giggled, walking over to him, letting him wrap you up in his strong arms and sway you gently. "This is nice."

"Mmmm..." Cillian hummed into the soft skin of your neck.

The refrigerator remained open, the cool-tinted light painting you both as you swayed side to side. You were half asleep, and the rocking motion didn't help your drowsiness. You felt as though this was some strange dream.

"Are you real?" You whispered.

"What do you mean?" Cillian purred back.

"I just feel like I made you up." You muttered, pulling your head back to look up at him with big, sleepy eyes.

Cillian looked back at you with the same look. Your wide-eyed gaze and his sweet blue eyes looked like something out of a romance film or something you'd see in a painting. The love you shared was unanimous... or at least you thought so. A kiss and then another kiss and then another turned into a sleepy yet heated make-out.

"Gonna take you right here," He grumbled into your mouth. "My midnight snack."

You giggled at his words as he pressed you against the kitchen island countertop. Kissing so hard it felt like your lips could bruise. He ripped off your shirt and pulled it off you like it was nothing. Cillian growled at the sight of you, hands groping at your tits and lips trailing down your neck. You whimpered, letting your head hang back as he ground his stiff cock into your clothed cunt.

"Fuck!" You whined, wrapping your legs around his hips even further. You ignored the feeling of the marble countertop digging into your lower back; the feeling of his cock was too delicious, too distracting, to really let it ruin the mood. "Cillian, please, baby, just put it in me... need you so bad."

He gave you a grunt and slipped off his shorts before pulling your panties to the side. Cillian acted like a feral dog as he pushed his cock into you and began fucking you on his sister's countertops at three in the morning. The act was sinful.

"Oh god! Yes!" You wailed. You could be as loud as you wanted to out here. No one else was around to hear, and you knew how Cillian liked to hear you scream for him. His hips pistoned in and out of you, cock fitting perfectly inside you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. He had never been so rough with you before, but you were enjoying it.

"Best pussy I've ever had," Cillian groaned, sweat dripping from his forehead. "Fuck... so good... feels so good."

His fingernails dug into your hips, grunting into the dips of your neck and shoulders as he chased his own high. You ran your hands up and down his back, leaving scratch marks across his shoulder blades. The fridge remained open, but right now, you didn't care. All you could think about was how good he was fucking you. Drool spilled down your chin, mind blank, and legs went limp from the euphoria taking over.

"Yeah, is that it?" Cillian muttered, voice gritty and low as his hips sputtered. "You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?"

"Yes... oh fuck! Yes!" You moaned. "Gonna cum for you, Cillian..."

"Love the way my name sounds comin' from your mouth," He whispered, letting out a mouth-watering whine straight into your ear. Your pussy clenched around him tighter as Cillian, usually a quiet and stoic man, came undone and let out the most delectable pornographic-sounding moans. "Y'make it sound so dirty..."

"Please cum in me..." You whimpered. "Please... need it so bad."

"Really?" Cillian panted and looked at you incredulously. He had never had the pleasure of getting to cum in you yet. "You sure?"

"Yes!" You threw your head back, panting like a dog. "Please, Cillian! Please... give it to me." "Fuck... alright... gonna fill you up, love."

You pressed your face into the curve of his neck, mewling as you came around him and the feeling of his hot cum beginning to spill into you. "I love you." You gasped out, squeezing your eyes shut as you came around him. You meant it; you did love him. You had never loved anyone the way you had loved him. You could see yourself with him for the rest of your life, having his babies, getting married..., and dying together. He just groaned loudly as he came inside you, not saying a word to your confession. Maybe it wasn't the right time, or he would wait until he was done to say something.

"Fuckin' hell..." Cillian whispered as he slipped his softening length out of you and pulled his shorts back up. "Look at that..." He mumbled with amazement, getting down on his knees in front of your quivering and cum-filled pussy.

"Cillian, I-"

"Shhh..." He hushed before pressing a loving nip to your inner thigh, and then he unhinged his jaw and attached his watering mouth to your cunt. You forgot everything you were about to say at the feeling of his tongue licking you up and sucking on your swollen clit. You came again quickly due to how sensitive you were, and Cillian sucked up your gushing juices and his cum that still dripped out of you. Standing up, he grabbed you by the chin and kissed you, spitting the mixture into your mouth, tongues swirling together. You moaned at the salty taste and the dirty act. "Such a good girl..." Cillian hummed. "Swallow it, baby. Show me how good you can be for me."

He watched you gulp it down before leaning in and rewarding you with a wet and messy kiss, teeth grabbing your bottom lip before pulling away. "Cillian..." You whispered, out of breath and incredibly flustered. "That... was so good... I love-" "Let's go to sleep," He interrupted abruptly, crouching and picking up your discarded clothing. "It's real late, sweetheart."

"Oh..." You mumbled, heart breaking a little. "Okay... let's go then." You didn't get a peep of sleep that night. While Cillian snored beside you, one heavy arm draped across you and his hot breath fanning the back of your neck, you stared at the ticking clock with tears slipping down your face. Why didn't he say it back? Why didn't he at least say something? You knew he heard you. The dread built up within you that night, and daylight didn't seem to get any closer.

At 7:47 AM, you were pulled out of a state between consciousness and sleep by Cillian's phone ringing. "Fuck..." Cillian said groggily, reaching over with a heavy hand to pick up his phone. "Who is it?" You moaned out of dissatisfaction from being pulled out of your slumber.

"It's my sister..." He groaned before answering the call. "Hello?.... Yeah, it's alright... no, I don't have anything on today... you're comin' home today?... I thought you'd be home Monday..." You sat up at this, heart racing. Were you going to have to meet his sister today? You were nervous but also excited. Cillian looked over at you with a horrified look in his eye. "Yeah... alright... see you then... bye."

"...Is everything okay?" You asked cautiously.

"Yeah, I guess we're not sleepin' in..." He grunted as he got up and walked towards the en suite. "Gather yer' things, we're going back to the city." "What? Why?"

"I just don't want my sister to know I had a girl over." That was the last thing he said before shutting the bathroom door, clearly in a bad mood. Your heart sank at his words as if it wasn't already hurting. So you got up, fighting back the tears and gathered your things, shoving them back into your bag as you let out a choked sob.

Half an hour passed, Cillian was still in the shower, and you sat at the bottom of the stairs, feeling sorry for yourself. Your bag sat beside you, and the floorboards creaking behind you caught your attention. You turned and looked up at Cillian, dressed in a lovely blue turtle neck, dress pants, and a grim look on his face.

Begrudgingly, you followed him outside and into the car, then began the drive back in silence.

"You wanna grab some lunch wit' me today?" Cillian asked after about twenty minutes of silence.

"No." You said dryly.

"What? You got plans or somethin'?" Cillian asked with a chuckle. The question felt condescending and rude.

"Because what you said to me earlier really fucking hurt me." You hissed, turning to look at Cillian to see him already looking at you.

"What the fuck are you on about?" He barked back, putting his eyes back on the road and giving you that dry, condescending laugh again.

"You said you didn't want your sister to know about me.... that you didn't want your sister to know about you having a girl over."

"Yeah, and?" Cillian quipped, clearly flustered.

"Is that all I am to you?" You whimpered, trying to keep your composure, trying to seem strong. "Just a girl?" "'Course not, Y/N." He said in a hushed tone.

"Then what the fuck are we?" You raised your voice, a tear slipping down your cheek. "Why can't your sister know about me? About us?"

"B-Because..." He faltered before falling completely silent.

"Why, Cillian?" You cried. "You've met my friends... you've even met my father... for fuck's sake... why can't... why can't I meet your sister and her husband?"

He kept his silence. You could see the tears in his eyes that refused to spill. Those tears were just as stubborn as he was.

"Answer me!" You screamed, tears pouring down your exasperated face. "Say something!"

"Because I'm married!" He screeched back.

That shut you up. You leaned back and just stared at your feet. You felt like you had been winded, like all the air in the car had been sucked out, and you were choking on carbon monoxide. He was married. You sobbed as the shock set in, and Cillian pulled the car over to the side of the road, unbuckling his seatbelt. You fell into a state of despair; your chest felt incredibly heavy, and your brain played a loop of hopeless thoughts.

"Y/N," Cillian said firmly, reaching out and placing a soft hand on your shoulder, which you quickly smacked away. "Y/N... look at me..."

You looked over at him, and you could see him wince at the look on your face. He'd never seen you in so much pain. Never had he seen you look at him so coldly. "What?" You spat. "What is it, Cillian?"

"I... I'm sorry."

"Fuck you," You cried harder, covering your face with your hands and leaning on the dashboard. You cried so hard it felt like you could vomit. You felt like the salty tears were slowly dissolving you away. "Fuck you!" You sobbed.

"Y/N... I am sorry."

"If you were sorry..." You hiccuped, looking back at him with red eyes and tears endlessly slipping down your flustered face. "You never would have... you never would have done this to me... you never would have gotten involved with me!"

Cillian sighed and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I... I stumbled into that cafe one night, and I saw you and... I heard the way you spoke... and the words you said... and I couldn't believe you were real... and things haven't been amazing in my marriage lately... and I haven't seen my wife in months..." He was rationalizing with you... with the infidelity. "I... I've never met anyone like you."

"You lied to me."

"How was I supposed to tell you I was married, Y/N?" Cillian snapped at you, looking at you with fangs barred. "What was I supposed to say to you?"

"You didn't have to say anything," You sobbed. "You shouldn't have invited me to dinner... you shouldn't have even... you shouldn't have ever shown up to those reading sessions... you just shouldn't have gotten involved with me in the first place!"

"My wife doesn't have to know."

"That... doesn't make it any better," You bawled. "You have a woman... back in Ireland fucking waiting for you, and I'm here... thinking I'm falling in love with you while you fuck me over!"

"I'm sorry..." He whispered, defeated. "I'm so sorry."

Silence.

"Do you feel anything for me?" "Of course, I feel something for you, Y/N... you're-"

"Do you love me?" You corrected. "Could you say you truly and honestly love me?" "I..." He looked away at that. You scoffed and shook your head, wiping tears off your face. "I don't... I don't know... I just..." "What the fuck was going to happen between us?" You cried. "How was this going to end? This was always going to end tragically... wasn't it? Wasn't it, Cillian?"

"I didn't... I never thought about how I was going to end things... I go back home in December... filming ends in two weeks... I was going to spend the last few weeks with you..." You scoffed again loudly. "Aww... how sweet! Spend your last few days with your mistress, who's twenty years younger than you... and then fuck off back to Ireland and go be with your loving wife and your... oh god... you have kids, don't you?" "Yes... I..." "Fuck!" You screamed. It wasn't like you to be so angry. You weren't usually this loud. But the pain was just too much, and you needed some way to get the pent-up rage within you out. "So this is it... this is going to be the last time I'll ever see you."

"It doesn't have to be that way, love," Cillian whispered, placing a hand on your arm; this time, you let it stay there. The shame of having him touch you made you sob again. "We could... spend this last month together... we could... cherish what we have while we still have it." "What we have is gone," You replied. "It's gone! It's dead! You killed it! You can't even say you love me."

"What good would that do?" He pushed you further over the edge. "I mean... I could lie and say I love you... I could feed into your fantasies that this... this could last... but it's not..."

Those words 'I could lie and say I love you' echoed over and over again in your head.

"I know that!" You yelped.

There was a pause. The silence hanging heavy in the autumn air and your teardrops falling into your lap where your hands lay curled up. Cillian's thumb rubbed circles into your arm, and you only cried harder.

"Maybe... if we had been closer in age... maybe we would have... maybe we would have been fine." Cillian broke the silence with that banger. The words ringing in your ears, you didn't reply. You didn't utter a word. Those words made you want to die. A minute or two went past. You just ignored him, ignored the way his hand lit your skin on fire, and ignored the way his eyes bore holes into the side of your skull. "Y/N?"

"Take me home." You muttered.

"Y/N..." He whispered.

"Take me the fuck home, Cillian."

And so he did. He pulled out of the parking spot, and you spent the next hour in an agonizing silence. At some point, the tears stopped falling, and the stupidity sunk in. You felt stupid and ashamed. You had told everyone about him, how happy you were, how handsome and funny... and how sweet he was. And now you sat in the car of a man you felt like you didn't know.

"We're here, Y/N."

"Goodbye, Cillian."

"Please don't do this." He begged, you looked at him, and he had tears in his eyes. "Please." You sucked in a breath, his eyes pleaded with you, and you wanted to stay so badly... you wanted to give him one last kiss and say, 'I understand,' but you knew you couldn't. You were too heartbroken. It was going to end one way or another... and it might as well end now.

"Goodbye, Cillian." You said once more before stepping out of the car and walking off into your building. Never looking back to see the broken man in the car, crying just as hard as you did, loving you just as hard as you did him.

Three months went by. There wasn't a day where you didn't think of him. Not a day passed when you yearned for his touch and to feel him hold you again. You thought about dancing with him in the refrigerator light. You thought about his hand on your thigh as you drove upstate. The memories all too real and... all too there.

And tonight, as snow fell outside, you stood at that same podium, reading the poem you wrote for him. You could barely utter the words, your heart catching in your throat as you looked around the room and spoke the words written on the page.

"Just between us, I remember it all too well." You finished, and the room clapped, but the applause didn't matter. Your heart still felt just as broken as it did the day you left him.

And as you descended from the podium, people would pat you on the back and murmur praises for how well-written your poem was and how well-spoken you were. But your eyes were focused on the hazy figure outside the cafe, the silhouette all too familiar.

And it was wearing that same red scarf you had left behind.

And you knew it was him, watching you from afar. Loving you from a distance... remembering it the same way as you did...

All too well.

-

hope you enjoyed!! Sorry this was all over the place a bit but I really wanted to write something angsty... anyway... there are lots of little easter eggs and references to the song, did you pick them all up? Okay byeee!

[chronicallyexisting]

One of my mutuals put an anti-ao3 post on my dash and I'm pretty dissapointed by it. Like I look at the rhetoric that's being used and can't help but draw comparisons to purity culture, right wing fascism, and the current anti LGBT and censorship push. Just because it's coming from the left doesn't mean it isn't the same things. The leopards will eat your face at the end of the day too.

First off, AO3 is an archive. Content being hosted does not mean any moral endorsement. There is no algorithm to push certain content, it is community driven. So if you're tempted to say "this website supports x" maybe recognize that the archive is acting as a library. If a fandom community consistently likes and writes content that makes you uncomfortable, then maybe take issue with the fandom or even source content if applicable.

Look, censorship is very, very bad. Claiming something is problematic and "not safe for those poor children" because it has racist language is the same argument that gets books like To Kill a Mockingbird and Huckleberry Finn banned. This is also the same argument that's being used right now to ban all books even mentioning anything LGBT. There will always be something problematic in any work of art or fiction, and claiming that it shouldn't exist because of that, or because it makes someone uncomfortable, is a dangerous slope that does not go where you want it to.

Censorship is not okay, yes even when it's the "left" doing it.

While I'm talking about it, the whole point of tags is to give users the maximum ability to control what content they see. Don't want any sexual content? Easy, filter it out. Really don't like a pairing because it's "problematic"/makes you uncomfortable, fantastic! Filter it out. Dead dove don't read. You do not need to subject yourself to anything you don't want to read or experience. Content is expected to be tagged appropriately. If you see explicit racism and it's not tagged, you can report that! It won't get that user suspended unless they repeatedly fail to tag it, but that is something you can and should complain about.

The other argument that constantly gets thrown around is claiming that AO3 hosts "child porn". It doesn't. Period. It's illegal and explicitly against their terms of service. Fiction is not reality. No children are being harmed.

Sometimes I'll see people discuss fic with underage teen characters having sex and they'll be calling the author a pedophile, meanwhile the author is the same age as the characters. Are we saying no one under the age of 18 should ever think or talk or write about sex with characters that are their age? Should we instead insist that a 14 year old only write about sex between people in their 30s?

Also, you are expected to be 13 years or older to join AO3. There are no 8 year olds stumbling around looking at porn of their cartoon characters anymore than there are on any other website. Age restrictions are hard to enforce, but that isn't AO3s job beyond what they already do. They provide plenty of warnings and lock content as best as they can. They are an adult space and are set up as one.

Liking something in fiction does not mean liking or endorsing it in reality. Someone who likes reading about princesses does not necessarily endorse modern monarchy. Someone who likes reading about dubious consent does not necessarily endorse or like dubious consent in reality. The same goes for every squick, "problematic" ship aspect, or content written. Reading dark things does not make someone evil. There are no thought crimes. Reeevalute the culturally Christian, purity mindset. Sometimes people enjoy reading fucked up things. It does not affect or harm you in any way.

Anyway, the current censorship push, no kink at pride, right wing fascists, and TERFs all use the same arguments and rhetoric. I'm begging people to recognize it when they see it.

[noelledeltarune]

raises hand. i'd like to hear about your miscellaneous headcanons :]

YAYYY ok :-] all of these are unrelated 🔥💯

i know that everyone has their own specific headcanons for who their starters are but i have always liked the idea of them having been given their haxorus as an axew as their first pokemon. i totally understand why people think of it as being ingo's with the whole mold breaker earthquake thing but especially with the whole heroes of legend and original dragon thing i think it's customary / traditional for people in unova to give children who are setting off on their journeys together a dragon to raise together. like as a reminder not to be too consumed with your goals that you lose the people who matter to you. or something. works out because i imagine dragons are typically prideful and kind of finicky to raise by nature. so making it a 2 person job is easier on all parties LMAO (their haxorus is jolly by nature so maybe less so but. yknow)

i also personally think that emmet really likes to cook. completely unrelated and i don't know why i think so but to me his love of battling translates a little as him being a guy who cares about his health LOL. he wants his team to be in good shape, so he should put in that effort too! because it's something he's very passionate about. and this applies to exercise but also food to me. it's an easy way to take care of yourself and it's nice to share food with people (<- necessary intervention to avoid ingo's 7th fast food chain burger in 4 days). + i imagine that pokemon who do a lot of battling like his do would need to eat a lot anyways, it's probably cheaper to make your own pokemon food than to buy as much as he'd need in bulk. maybe he got into making it for his team when he was younger and that translated into him learning to cook because he's already making something edible anyways LMAO, might as well do the same for himself

i think ingo likes to draw. no real reason for this one either he just strikes me as The Absentminded Doodler. never really considered himself to be super passionate about art but he is a dedicated hobbyist. in my head when they were kids ingo and emmet's parents tried to get emmet into journaling because he wasn't much of a talker and they figured it'd be an easier way to express himself. he did not really care for it and ingo took it up instead. lots of paper for writing and doodling. i imagine he sort of got out of journaling as an adult/older teen but got back into both writing and drawing more when he was in hisui. we know he's a man who appreciates physical reminders of things. less ephemeral than memories 🔥💯

i also like the headcanon that uxie is the one who stole his memories rather than it just being a result of The Dreaded SpaceTime Travel. like i know it doesn't actually make sense because how would he have possibly met uxie given the requirement of having god's blessing in your cell phone. but. OH MY GOD! IN COMES CANALAVE LIBRARY'S "A HORRIFIC MYTH" WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!!!!!!!

^ i just like it. it's also the one way i will excuse the trope of zoroark transforming into emmet because the pokemon guarding uxie's cave is. an alpha zoroark. so maybe that thing has some special powers relating to the memories it steals like it can look into them to more effectively scare people away from it or whatever. because like. hisuian zoroark can't actually read minds. LMAO. but i'll accept it specifically for ingo through this

i am known to be an enjoyer of the headcanon that emmet is a pokemon breeder as a hobby. but specifically NOT just with joltik. i think he met lenora when he was younger when she helped him revive his archen from a fossil and he works with her sometimes now as a breeder aiding in pokemon restoration. i also like to ignore the fact this would likely require a lot of dedicated training and education and time on top of his job because i can do whatever i want forever. i think that elesa's tynamo is the anime was a gift from him :-]

on a slightly related note i also think that emmet and burgh are underrated "characters who have never interacted but i think they'd be friends" guys. in my head even ingo likes to draw he's not really much of an art nerd. but i think emmet kind of is LOL. (<- queen of taking that one line where he talks about wanting to go to galar to see the sirfetch'd vs escavalier painting too far). i think they'd be bug buddies. they're both a little silly in a way that i think would be very compatible and i like imagining them as friends. 2 guys who love looking at pictures of bugs and also are professional pokemon battlers. match made in heaven 🔥💯 slightly related because burgh is the one character i think emmet actually would give a joltik to. gave him a shiny baby spider at one of his art shows and their friendship was cemented when a couple of weeks later he showed up on the doubles line with a professionally trained shiny galvantula :-]

i flip flop 100000x per day over their pokemon but specifically when it comes to the haxorus mold breaker thing i want to bring up how abilities on the battle subway are randomized. meaning that, to me specifically, it is not actually an act of malice 100% of the time. i KNOW that it was introduced in gen 6 but i think that mold breaker earthquake is more often a FUCK I FORGOT TO USE THE ABILITY CAPSULE AGAIN AFTER THE SINGLES LINE than a HA HA HA. FUCK YOU, TEAMMATE! ingo is also a guy who likes a thrilling battle and likes to win. if i wasn't as fond of the idea that their starter was axew i'd say it's a brought the wrong haxorus to work accident

i think that's everything that comes to mind for now. THANK YOU :-]

[thestrangestthlng]

Hear Me Out...

When I say Defund the Police, this is what I mean.

For fiscal year 2023 (July 1, 2022 - June 30, 2023) New York City paid out 1.45 BILLION (with a b-b-B) in settlements from 13,227 claims and lawsuits against the NYPD. This is ALL directly from the tax payers pocketbooks. In a city that had to cut over five million from HIV funding and over 50 million dollars from the public library system. In a city with the highest cost of living AND the highest unhoused population.

This number is down only slightly from FY 2022, which was 1.56B. While it may look like it's heading in the right direction, the number of claims increased for 2023 from 12,188 for the 2022 FY. So they paid LESS for an increase of over 1,000 claims.

The NYC taxpayers are on the line for these because the department isn't responsible. Their officers are able to do whatever the hell they want for the most part and are not only held accountable administrationally, but the department has a free and clear card.

You want to see excessive force and misconduct claims go down and an actual change in accountability within the police? Make it so those claims and lawsuits have to come from their union. Once they see their dues start to skyrocket (like our car insurance rates) you'll see a massive change. Increase their dues and actually make it so that it doesn't take an actual arrest of an officer to dismiss them from the force. You don't have to get arrested to be fired from any other job, why are the people who are allegedly there to serve and protect us - civil servants - except from this?

One tweet about a political stance an employer doesn't like gets people who are professors, doctors, teachers, cashiers--anyone really-- get fired, but physically assaulting, wrongfully searching, coercing, even killing someone doesn't?

Why are police the exception to the rules they supposedly are supposed to enforce? If I slammed a person's head into the sidewalk., I'd be in jail on felony assault charges, but a cop gets a paid vacation to appease the public and gets to go back to work the next Monday?

That 1.45 billion is in ADDITION to the 5.83 BILLION dollar budget the NYPD had for FY 2023.

Now before you come into my messages and comments with some bootlicker nonsense, I know in a city with over 8 million residents there is going to be more spent on the police department. But, how about we relax with the overtime.

Before y'all even come in my comments with the racist/homophobic comments about several ISOLATED incidents yesterday at the park, remember that white men celebrating a fucking sports team winning a game causes more chaos.

Anyway,

I was at NYC Pride yesterday, and there were more cops than I think I've ever seen at any Pride event they have had. They were flooded in the streets and the subways. They were even riding the subways with us. I wonder what cost all those extra and unneeded officers (who were mostly standing around talking and just giving attitude all day) cost the city.

This isn't to say that police presence shouldn't be at crowd control and safety monitoring events, especially in today's political climate. Still, the fact that the majority of the officers that I encountered yesterday were giving people attitudes and being aggressive in their presence for no reason is astounding. If you can't handle a crowd of people behaving like a crowd of people, maybe you shouldn't have a job that involves dealing with crowds.

That being said, if that money that was taken from the city budget to cover these lawsuits for excessive force, misconduct, and wrongful deaths, wrongful arrests, etc. had to be paid by the police officers directly, not only would we see accountability and liability, we'd see the amount of their crimes go down. Now, if we used that money and funded mentorship programs, anti-recidivism (especially for youth/young adults) community actions, programs to ensure that people's basic needs are being met, job readiness, affordable job training, addiction services, veteran's services, mental healthcare, affordable healthcare, and other community-based programs that could do a world of change if they had the funds) we'd also see a lot of crimes start to diminish as well because the fact of the matter is that a lot of crimes that we tend to associate with urban areas are crimes of poverty. If we help solve the root of the issue, you'll see many of the chain of events start to ebb.

HOLD THE POLICE DEPARTMENTS AND THE POLICE OFFICERS ACCOUNTABLE FOR THEIR ACTIONS.

If you're going to sit here and cry about not all cops or some nonsense, then you should be the first person who would want the "bad apples" out of the picture. If you're a "good cop" you should want the ones who make you look bad and ultimately make your job harder to be held accountable. The good ol' boy culture HAS to end. You want the public to blindly "back the blue" while you literally kill us. I am aware the many officers who try to report misconduct by their coworkers are harassed and threatened, often to the point where they leave the force. Is that what we are supposed to be backing?

AND THEN THEY HAVE THE AUDACITY TO WANT TO PUT A COP CITY IN QUEENS? Why should tax payers be on the line for 225 MILLION DOLLARS to continue to militarize the police? The price tag could fully fund multiple community-based non-profits for a year or one for multiple years. Make it make sense.

Make them pay where it hurts the most: their wallets.

[gutlesh]

Day 7 tolerance break

10am

Woke up a while ago with w/d symptoms: stomach/guts hurting, muscle aches. I seem to have some energy/anxiety coming back bc i was driven to do some little admin tasks (renewing library books, filling out timesheet) that ive been putting off for a week.

I'm not looking forward to dealing with the GI symptoms since im gonna be out of the house for most of today at a pride event somewhere new to me. I'll bring some tylenol with me and not eat anything crazy and hope for the best? There might also be a party i go to so I'm not sure how that will be re:substances, it's advertised as all ages so i guess it won't be too substance heavy. If its too rough i will just leave meep. It's a 2 hour trip home so i'll have 2 leave kinda early anyways.

I should also bring stuff to help me sensory/autism cope. Headphones, stim toy, familiar snacks, gum, sunglasses. Maybe i should wear sunscreen we'll probably be outside a while. At least it wont be very hot today :')

Ah besides the worries im excited to hang out w the person who invited me and get to know him better, and i'm really curious about what this event will be like bc ive never been to a pride parade or any other event by indigenous ppl. Part of me is worried abt offending people and while thats well intentioned i know its the sjw brainwashing lol as long as i am chill and nice and follow the lead of people around me im sure it will be fine. And if i mess up i can trust the ppl around me to tell me and ill fix it bc i am a mature adult who can take criticism, and being criticised or hurting other ppls feelings doesnt make me a bad person it just means i made a mistake which everyone does. How would i even know everything abt being indigenous when i'm not. Lol. God tumblr interacted so badly with my morality ocd i'm still undoing the damage 10 years on 😔😔 sometimes i wish i grew up like more normal but id just be messed up in some other way lbr

Anyway!!!! Im gonna dress up in a cute lil goth girl fit and itll be fun and ill meet cool people and probably hear cool music and eat new food and get to know this sick dood who i wanna kiss hehehehe. And i will NOT shit myself. Manifesting it 😤😤😤🙏🙏 w/d switching from constipation to diarrhea was such a dirty move like girl cmon im not even going away forever just takin some space i still love u miss mary jane u dont have to do all this 😩

[ibelieveinghost]

3/23/24

sooooooo much happened this past week and I need to note down how things made me feel!!!

1st off I don't have my new visa yet. let's get that out of the way. I don't worry as much now. again, strange feeling.

2 things happened yesterday. went to M's orientation. I felt like my Japanese is def getting better, but not quite there yet. not sure how much help a part time job would do, but hopefully there'd be some improvements. fun fact: my employee selfie ranked 16/750,000 ppl LOL no kidding. I got that smile goin' oh and it's freaking cold yesterday. short sleeved uniform made it 1000x worse.

like...man. I felt kinda, really, honestly pretty umm...inadequate. as an adult. in terms of adulting abilities. the way I spent all my years doing big brain research stuff and not even having the experience dealing with 'real ppl'. not even a part time job(despite working at library for 6 years which doesn't count...too safe an environment), not to mention fast food/catering position like this. i have this looming fear(again) that this バイト experience would touch me in some profound, disturbing way. but anyway. I'd only grow more mature. with more tools and the mental agility to deal with more to come. like. yea. guess that's worth the price.

ok dok enough of that. Asa and I went watched dune 2 last night!!! imax laser at Shinjuku TOHO and it was so so so good! despite not having watched the first one, I find the fact of not knowing 100% what's going on less of a problem than me checking out their asses(yum) all the fucking time. would watch again, probably 4D next time bc I want to feel that sand(probably water, if we're being realistic) on my face. anyway, it was beautifully made. I came to the theater knowing jack shit about what dune it and left loving what I watched.

so that's Friday! I hangout with K Thursday, and had a long interview that evening too. again, I didn't do too well... which means I did kinda okay. still warming up to the interviewing thing I guess. hope I can get a third interview (they have 4 bruh), or a teaching demonstration next week. if I end up getting the offer, it'd be splendid. but I'm not exactly in a place be optimistic. those people are way too qualified than my current level. but I'll prepare anyway. you really can't treat ur pride or sense of worth too seriously in time like this. I know I have what I need. I know some feelings are only natural. and I decide to not dwelling on anything that's nothing serving me good and carrying me forward. and yes! I talked K into watching HH! big win! and we're going to the 🎤 theme cafe next Thursday woohoo! I had shifts scheduled mon-wed, so that gives me something to look forward to.

and then there's Tuesday. I hanged out with my kind and beautiful girlie D. can't believe she's going thru this much and did this much for folks who care so little about her. anger. I was angry. no one take advantages of my friends like this. I'll check on her more often and try to hang out more often. that's the least I can do. it's not like I can ask her to break up. but I'll be there for her.

mon and wed I slept away no kidding. I'll stop here. now photos:

(THE BEST CHINESE DISH I HAD IN TOKYO+proof that's I was NOT KIDDING)

(food and drinks lol)

(that was a nice walk we had roppongi->sendagaya beautiful weather + good tea, real good tea)

(the cards I got for my teachers! + not looking bad!)

I kinda forgot the write about my little trip to ikebukuro w/ asa last weekend. it was so much fun & I drank so much cheap wine at saizeria lol I'd like to add an entry for that night specifically but who r we kidding. chances are I just forget again. so here are the photos:

(wuwuwuwuwuwu BABIES)

(simply the best cheap wine out there and I'm ready to die on this hill. and... finally got to sit at the window seat at this saizeria crying shaking+literally stayed until the place closed)

(and we went to kichijoji on a whim. 終電までeven more chit chat at the park. it was so nice. so nice. so nice)

ok wow long entry! exactly what I wanted to do on a cold Saturday morning at my fav coffee place. closing thought: I think ppl don't understand how loud Japanese ppl can be. not complaining just stating the fact, that they can be really fucking loud in public. not sure where the 'quite' stereotype came from, and I believed it before I moved here. these. people. are. loud.

ok! off to have a productive day. hopefully! somehow this week ended up being so packed with social stuff/obligations. didn't even have the time to write here/on my journal. didn't have the time to study. hmmm..although I did read 500 pages of radioapple fanfic. but that's my selfceare leisure time!!! yea I read some really, REALLY good fluff. like oh my stars. that will never happen in canon but definitely a possibility and def not OOC.

b-bye!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Imagine if Meng Shi begged and bargained and collected favors till she was able to send her A-Yao to education with the Lan Sect, perhaps even become a cultivator with them. Would he take that change? Would he become a rogue cultivator? Would the strict rules help curb his inner muderimpuls or enrage him or teach him to hide better?

A Good Fit - ao3

“The…Lan sect?” Meng Yao said doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure,” his mother said, her mouth tight. She looked upset, the way she always did these days when he referenced, intentionally or otherwise, the original plan that she had had to send him to join his father, sect leader of Lanling Jin. She’d raised Meng Yao on a steady diet of stories of what his life would be like when his father finally took him back the way he’d promised her he would, stories that had filled his days and nights for years and years and years, and then just last year she’d suddenly stopped talking about it entirely. It was as if the person who’d told those stories had nothing to do with her.

Meng Yao didn’t know what had happened, but he assumed it must have been pretty bad.

“It'll be a good fit,” she added.

“Then I’ll go to the Lan sect,” he said, and pretended not see the way his mother relaxed a little, relieved that he wasn’t asking too many questions. “I’ve heard they are gentlemen there, righteous but gentle; it will be the best match for my personality, I’m sure.”

A lie, of course. ‘Gentlemen’ were just as likely to come to the brothel as brutes, and they were all the same once they had a cup of wine and a beauty in their arms – Meng Yao tried not to have any illusions.

“Can we afford it?” he asked instead, since that was something he was sure his mother would have thought of, would have expected him to ask. “Gusu is so far away…”

“I have obtained a letter from the local sect recommending you to their sect leader, Lan Qiren,” she said. “He’s the one that teaches the classes – the one that sent out the summons asking the subsidiary sects to look for individuals with raw talent to join his classes and offering them an extra seat for their sects for each nameless orphan they find that lives up to Lan sect standards. Only the Heavens know why he’s doing something like that…I assume they’re trying to expand.”

That seemed like the most reasonable explanation. Meng Yao nodded. “So I’ll be traveling with the local sect?”

“That’s right,” his mother said, and raised her chin a little. “At least this much, your mother was able to do for you.”

She’d begged and bargained and traded favors for it, then, Meng Yao thought, and yet taking him along was to their own benefit: if they were looking for inherited cultivation talent sufficient for the Lan sect, then the bastard son of another Great Sect leader would be a better bet than some random nobody. She’d probably humiliated herself for nothing.

“Will you come with me?” he asked, more concerned with that – it was too easy for women of ill repute to disappear into the depths of the city if they didn’t have someone to watch out for them.

Even someone as young as he was. He wished he was older.

“You can come back to visit me during the Spring Festival,” she said, which meant no. “I’ll be all right, A-Yao.”

Meng Yao wasn’t so sure.

Still, not having him around would at least remove a visible reminder of his mother’s age – she’d been kicked out of the better brothels because of him, because no one wanted a woman who was a mother. Leaving would at least do that for her.

“I’ll write,” he finally said. “I’ll write as often as they let me.”

“And I’ll write back,” she promised him, kissing his cheek. “I promise.”

With that, Meng Yao supposed he had to be satisfied.

-

The Lan sect was both exactly like what Meng Yao expected and absolutely nothing at all like anything he could have dreamt.

For the first, his cynicism was almost immediately confirmed: the boys raised there were snobby as anything, looking down at the rest of them as little better than barbarians, and many of the adults were the same way. It was clear that this whole business of recruiting talented nobodies was a project of the sect leader’s – the interim sect leader, no less, not even the real thing – and nobody else’s; they were only just barely going along with it. Adding to that the fact that there were dozens if not hundreds of rules, and Meng Yao could glumly foresee a future of having his lack of knowledge held over his head as a fault, even with his marvelous memory to act as his backing.

For the second…

Well, there was Lan Xichen, who was – as unbelievable as it seemed – to actually embody all those things that people said about gentlemen, all kindness and gentleness and fierce upright pride, except only for real. There was Lan Wangji, who was basically perfect in every way and kinder than he gave the impression he was, willing to help tutor anyone who asked if only they dared disturb his solitude long enough to do so. There was the boy Meng Yao shared a room with, Su She, who’d punched the boy from the Yunping cultivator clan in the mouth for calling Meng Yao a son of a whore and pretended it was because they weren’t allowed to talk about that sort of thing, when actually it’d been because he hadn’t wanted rumors to get around that might make Meng Yao’s life harder in the future.

There was Lan Qiren, who was strict and a little boring but fair, painfully fair, handing out punishments with an equitable hand no matter that it meant that he was punishing the locals as often if not more often. It’d been his idea to bring people like Meng Yao into the Lan sect, and defending the idea was the only time he truly seemed moved to passion. Now that they’d passed the initial examination and been judged to match Lan sect standards, Lan Qiren announced, as far as he was concerned, they were Lan sect just as if they were born there, as if they’d been children of his own.

And he even seemed to really believe it, too.

Today, Meng Yao’s head was still warm from when the stern Teacher Lan had put his hand there, gentle and approving, and his ears still burning from the murmured “Well done, Meng Yao, as expected.”

“I think I would kill someone for him,” Meng Yao said dreamily to Su She, who snorted.

“You’ve got such father issues,” he said disdainfully, as if he didn’t have entire family issues. That was just Su She’s way, though – he bitched and moaned and complained without end, and he’d probably kill someone for Meng Yao if Meng Yao so much as hinted it was something he’d want. They’d made friends for a reason. “You know the bit about the poor kids being his own children is a lie, right?”

“I know which sect’s leader is my father, thanks,” Meng Yao said, rolling his eyes. “I’m well aware it’s not Teacher Lan. Like he’d ever have kids of his own, anyway.”

“That’d require noticing when someone’s flirting with him,” Su She agreed, all solemn for just a moment, and then he dissolved into sniggering giggles. Meng Yao couldn’t blame him: it was, in fact, extremely funny when women (and sometimes men) tried to flirt with Teacher Lan, mostly because of the way that he very genuinely and completely missed that that was what was happening each and every time.

“Laugh all you like,” Meng Yao said peaceably. “You’d kill for him, too.”

“Probably,” Su She agreed. “But only because of you.”

That was fair enough. After getting the lay of the land, Meng Yao had arranged for them to ‘accidentally’ be overheard by Teacher Lan while talking about the misconduct of one of the teachers who was the most biased against guest disciples, one of the ones that had been harassing Su She in particular for over a year before Meng Yao had arrived, and despite Su She’s initial nervousness about the plan, it had all gone splendidly. Sure, they’d been punished to do five copies of a treatise on upright conduct because they’d breached Talking behind the backs of others is prohibited, but the teacher in question had been sentenced to two hundred strikes with the discipline rod for abusing his position and three months of enforced seclusion to contemplate his misbehavior, and then, Teacher Lan had said, his expression dark and threatening, they could discuss what role would be the best fit in the future.

The other teachers had taken notice and shaped up very quickly, after that.

Comparatively, those five copies made in the nice cool Library Pavilion instead of having to do chores on the hottest days of summer? Practically a pat on the back for bringing it to his attention.

Su She would never have dared to raise anything if it was just him, Meng Yao thought; he had a strange fear of authority figures that combined envy and misery in an explosive combination – he would have just suffered and suffered and suffered until he’d been pushed too far and then it would have all burst out at once. He wasn’t like Meng Yao, who was unwilling to keep to his “proper” place and was more than willing to use his greater-than-average share of brains to get what he wanted, no matter what rules he broke in the process. He was the sort of person who was willing to do whatever it took to obtain his desires – no matter what it took.

Well, maybe not no matter what. He wouldn’t want to disappoint Lan Qiren too much.

(Okay, so maybe Su She was right and he had some unresolved father issues. So what if he did? Whose business was it but his?)

-

It’d taken Meng Yao a while to fully adjust to the Cloud Recesses.

Some parts he’d figured out right away – the way they all flattered themselves as gentlemen even if they were actually little more than hypocrites (Teacher Lan and his personally taught nephews exempted, of course), which of course meant that Meng Yao’s ability to act pitiful at the drop of a hat and cleverly turn black into white made him a teacher’s pet at once. The vegetarian meals were easy enough to adapt to, given that his mother hadn’t had the money for meat all that often, and the training and cultivation and all that wasn’t any challenge for his excellent powers of retention – he had ambitions of becoming one of Teacher Lan’s aides one day, and worked assiduously towards that goal. Even waking and sleeping early, which was practically the opposite of his schedule at home, was something he could adjust to, given time and incentive.

It was his mentality that took some time to adjust.

Meng Yao had perhaps grown up with too many of his mother’s stories, painting an image of a matchless paradise – at the start, he looked at everything around him, serene and elegant but not quite as rich and shining and thought that it would do, for now. When he’d first arrived, he had had every intention of making a good reputation for himself and using that reputation to get his real father’s attention – he’d liked Teacher Lan from the beginning, despite his best attempts to not let his heart be swayed, but he’d reasoned that if a teacher was like this, then a blood-related father would be even better.

And so, for the first half-year, he’d treated his time at the Cloud Recesses…not lightly, no. He was extremely serious about making sure to get the maximum benefit he could. And yet, at the same time, he still was not really committing himself to the place.

This wasn’t where he was going to live his whole life, he reasoned; it was just a stepping stone to a better future. That meant he would exert himself to point out things that made him look good, to eliminate obstacles in his path, to win himself allies, but not bother with those longer-term problems, the ones that really ought to be fixed but which would take a great deal of effort with little reward other than annoying people.

His feeling of superiority and emotional distance lasted right up until the first discussion conference.

From a distance, Jin Guangshan was everything Meng Yao could have imagined – perhaps a little too similar to the clients that his mother often saw, a little dissolute to pull off the air of a refined scholar he affected, but wearing more gold than Meng Yao had ever seen in his life, with a retinue of servants that dwarfed the other sect’s. Each of those servants were dressed more finely than even main clan cultivators in some of the smaller sects, and though Meng Yao’s Lan sect guest disciple clothing was of such quality that he didn’t need to fear their disdain, he couldn’t help but be secretly impressed.

He'd exerted himself more than usual to trade away all of his chores and duties, freeing himself up to take on patrol duty near the Jin sect. He’d perhaps daydreamed about some sort of encounter – nothing active on his part, of course, but he couldn’t quite resist playing through some fantasy of catching someone’s eye by chance, getting called over, a “You have a familiar set to your chin, who’s your father?”, a shy halting admission, recognition, a joyous reunion…

Instead, his father spent the entire night getting drunk and cursing the Lan sect’s hospitality for not providing him with girls to go with his liquor, calling Lan Qiren a miserable prude with a stick up his ass right in front of the Lan sect disciples that clenched their fists in barely concealed rage. He’d seen Meng Yao all right, ordered him to come forward, but it’d only been to mock him in front of all of his servants – and not even for being his bastard son, no, that would involve bothering to pick him out from the crowd or to ask who he was. No, he’d mocked him simply for being one of the poor disciples that Lan Qiren had taken in, all because his accent was marked with the distinct tones of Yunping rather than the sweetness of Gusu.

“Tell me, boy,” he said, breathing fumes into Meng Yao’s face and making him feel suddenly as if he’d never left the brothel – that the Cloud Recesses had all been a vague dream, and now he’d woken up and lost it all. “How does that old fart Qiren expect you to pay him back for all he’s done for you? I heard the Lan sect includes a pretty face as one of its standard requirements…”

Meng Yao put his gaze above his father’s head and pretended to be deaf.

“It seems like rather a lot of effort,” one of his father’s attendants remarked. “Even if Second Master Lan wanted a boy to warm his bed, couldn’t he just buy one like any normal person?”

“Bah, boys,” his father said, and leaned back, waving his hands in dismissal. “Why would anyone bother with a boy when you could have a soft woman instead? Just as long as they’re stupid enough – you know, there’s nothing worse than a woman who’s talented and knows it, too smart, always trying to get above their station…”

“You’re thinking about that whore in Yunping again, aren’t you? The one that interrupted your dinner and made a scene, claiming you’d promised to take in the son she bore you?” the attendant said, laughing. “I told you, you should’ve just killed her for her impudence rather than just having her beaten and thrown out. That way the matter wouldn’t still be bothering you…”

“Go away, boy,” another servant said to Meng Yao, who was frozen stiff in belated terror, nausea churning in his stomach as he realized his mother could’ve gone out one day and never come back, and he would never have known why – or maybe it was that he’d been spending his considerable time and brain on pleasing someone who would have done that, who nearly had done that. “Your accent’s brought back bad memories, don’t you see?”

Meng Yao left.

No, to be more blunt: he fled. He ran away, hot tears filling his eyes until he couldn’t see – belly full of regret and disappointment, crushed dreams feeling like broken shards of glass in his mouth and throat.

He tried to tell himself that it was better to find out now, when they were still distant, before he'd sold his soul for the futile chance to get that horrible man's affection, but he couldn't quite throw off the shame of knowing that if he hadn't heard such a thing up front, he probably would have done that. Would have humiliated himself like that, and for what? A man who regretted not murdering his mother?

He ran right into Lan Wangji, who was also on patrol.

Lan Wangji took one look at him and grabbed his wrist, dragging him away from the main pathway and all the way to his uncle’s rooms.

Lan Qiren was still awake despite the late hour, writing something at his desk, but he set aside his brush at once. “What’s going on?” he asked, frowning. “Wangji – Meng Yao – one of you report.”

“Meng Yao was on patrol by the Jin sect,” Lan Wangji explained as Meng Yao furiously tried to dash away his tears using his sleeve.

“Who permitted that? First year disciples aren’t permitted to patrol during discussion conferences,” Lan Qiren asked, his frown deepening. “It wouldn’t be proper – ah, but no, I recall now. I suppose it was inevitable. Wangji, well done, and thank you. You are dismissed.”

After Lan Wangji left, he turned his eyes on Meng Yao.

“You volunteered, didn’t you?” he asked.

Meng Yao felt his back go cold: Lan Qiren knew, then. It had never been said out loud by anyone as far as he knew, and yet it was clear that Lan Qiren knew who his father was – and probably his mother, too.

He knew that Meng Yao was – that he wasn’t anything more than –

“You are one of my most promising disciples, Meng Yao,” Lan Qiren told him, and poured him a cup of tea from his own pot, pressing it into his hands. It was finer tea than Meng Yao had ever had in his life, full of smoke and flavor. “The rules say Be loyal and filial, but they also praise reciprocity. You have not been recognized, and have not received your forefathers’ grace. You can fulfill your obligations to chivalry through your respect for the parent that raised you.”

Meng Yao stared down at the teacup. Lan Qiren had completely misunderstood the nature of Meng Yao’s concern – he was disappointed in what his father was, not worried about not living up to his obligations of being a filial child. And yet it was a little nice to hear that as far as Lan Qiren was concerned, the rules said that he could tell his father go hang for all he cared…

And that he ought to honor his mother, which was something no one who knew her had ever said to him.

“Even if she –” His voice stuttered. “Even if she’s a…”

He couldn’t say the word.

“Appreciate the good people is not qualified by class or profession,” Lan Qiren said, and his monotone voice was blissfully without emotion, as if this were just another lesson in class, and not the deepest hurt of Meng Yao’s life. “I have never met your mother, Meng Yao, but you are a good child – diligent, organized, sincere, with good judgment, and you clearly adore her. That tells me everything I need to know.”

Meng Yao burst into tears.

-

Meng Yao liked Lan Xichen a lot, but he also had to admit that sometimes, the older boy was, well…

“Dumb as a pile of rocks,” Su She announced.

“Do not criticize other people,” Meng Yao said piously, but then chuckled, shaking his head. “Say, rather, that he’s naïve and sheltered, and overly inclined to believe the best in people.”

“Like I said: dumb as rocks. How many times is going to get himself swindled into being someone’s sword or shield before he figures out that the problem is him?”

“Some people don’t have the capacity to understand the depths of humanity’s foulness –”

“Yeah, dumb ones.”

“Su She, please.” Su She held up his hands in surrendered. “At any rate, if Lan-gongzi is going to keep falling for people’s tricks, it’s beholden on us to help protect him.”

“You just don’t want Teacher Lan to be sad about something serious happening to his nephew,” Su She said knowingly, but he was already nodding. “All right, what are we going to do about it? He outranks us. We can’t exactly tell him to his face that he’s being…”

He paused.

Dumb as rocks went unsaid, but then, it didn’t need to be said out loud for the meaning to be clear.

Meng Yao sighed.

“You can only trick someone so many times,” he said. “If we want to keep him from getting tricked by other people, then we have to trick him first. And better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lan-gongzi likes to save people,” Meng Yao explained. “He really sees himself as a chivalrous gentleman – he puts chivalry first, even though Teacher Lan says Learning comes first. That’s why he always sides with whoever he perceives to be the underdog in a given situation, no matter how wrong that impression is. That’s how most of the people who’ve been tricking him have gone for it: playing the victim, appealing to his sense of righteousness, pulling the curtains over his eyes to obscure what’s actually happening.”

“Okay. So?”

“So, we’ve both got miserable backstories – you being taken from your family at a young age and then bullied, me with my mother and, even worse, father. If we get him on our side, early on, he’ll side with us over anyone else – that way we can keep him from getting roped into other people’s private grudges.”

Su She frowned. “That seems a little manipulative.”

“It’s for his own good, and that’s what’s important,” Meng Yao said, and smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lan-er-gongzi?”

Su She jumped, turning around just in time to see Lan Wangji, who had been standing in the shadow of a nearby tree, step out.

He had a serious expression, as always, but a thoughtful one.

Meng Yao waited patiently.

“You cannot take advantage,” Lan Wangji finally said, and Meng Yao knew he’d won the most important ally in the battle to save Lan Xichen from himself. “That would change it from a virtuous act to a selfish one.”

“Like we need anything from him,” Su She said haughtily. “Maintain your own discipline.”

“Arrogance is forbidden.”

“It’s not arrogance if it’s justified! It’s just self-confidence!”

“Do not argue with family,” Meng Yao quoted, and was pleased to see both of them drop it at once. “Listen, we all share the same goal, and we have to start somewhere, don’t we? We’re stronger together than apart. Together, we can do anything, even protect Lan-gongzi.”

That and more, he thought as the other boys nodded, following his lead. Lan Xichen is just the start.

-

“The Wen sect will make trouble sooner rather than later,” Meng Yao said thoughtfully, one day. His friends turned to look at him. “Yes, I’m serious.”

Lan Wangji nodded, serious as always, but Su She scoffed.

“You can’t even convince that Wei Wuxian boy to leave poor Lan-er-gongzi alone,” he said snidely. “How exactly are you expecting to bring down the Wen sect?”

“I don’t convince Wei Wuxian to leave Lan-er-gongzi alone because Lan-er-gongzi doesn’t want to be left alone,” Meng Yao said. “Obviously. Isn’t that right?”

“You should call me by name,” Lan Wangji said, which wasn’t answering the question and definitely wasn’t denying anything. “You were saying, about the Wen sect?”

Meng Yao smiled.

-

“What brings one of Teacher Lan’s most promising disciples to the Unclean Realm?” Nie Mingjue said, peering at him thoughtfully. “You’re at the wrong time to be one of the usual messengers.”

Meng Yao smiled at him.

“I think you’ll find that we have similar goals, Sect Leader Nie,” he said. “When it comes to making sure that certain people in our lives don’t get hurt by the bad decisions of others, I mean. In your case, it’s your younger brother, who’s a friend of mine –”

Friend, source of information, it was all about the same thing in the end. Meng Yao didn’t have real friends outside the Lan sect, but he’d been very careful to cultivate good relationships with all his most important peers.

“- and for me, well. A teacher for day, a father for a lifetime. I’m sure Sect Leader Nie can understand the importance of protecting one’s father – right?”

“You don’t need to use any sophistry on me,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes. “If you have an idea on what we can do to stop the Wen sect before they go and burn someone’s house down, I’m all ears.”

By chance, Meng Yao did.

It was a good plan, too, daring and brave in equal measure. If it worked the way he hoped it would, he’d win enough fame to get Jin Guangshan to beg for him to join the Jin sect – not that he would, of course.

Meng Yao knew what he wanted, and he knew how he was going to get it, too.

-

“This is a lovely house, A-Yao,” Meng Shi said, running her hand along one of the soft tapestries on the wall. “Truly lovely. Whoever you rented it from has good taste.”

Meng Yao bowed. “Thank you for the compliment, Mother. I put a lot of thought into it.”

“You own it?” she asked, surprised. “But don’t you live up the mountain, with the sect?”

“I do. This is for you.”

“For – me? A-Yao! This is too much – how much must it have cost–”

“I saved the Lan sect’s core texts from being destroyed,” Meng Yao said. “I’m an inner sect disciple now – I could ask for a dozen houses like this, and they’d grant them to me without blinking twice. Teacher Lan would insist on it.”

“Teacher Lan,” his mother murmured. “That’s the one you’ve taken to treating as your own father, isn’t it? You’ve spoken so much of him, in your letters…”

“There’s no need to scheme,” he told her. “He wouldn’t notice your flirtations, anyway.”

His mother arched her eyebrows at him.

“He’s really oblivious.”

“Still…”

“Really no need,” Meng Yao said, and couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Lan Qiren pulling him into a hug when he realized that the books – and Lan Xichen – were all safe from the Wen sect’s attempt to burn down the Cloud Recesses, and, later, again, that Wen Ruohan was dead. He may have deliberately schemed for that second hug, and he might or might not have plans for more. “He already takes me as a son.”

His mother relaxed.

“Good,” she said, and smiled herself. “So, A-Yao, was I right, all those years ago? Was the Lan sect a good fit for you?”

“Yes, Mother,” Meng Yao said. “Yes, it was.”

[sleeping-lilies]

robin era jason, dick, and babs headcanons because there’s too much comedic potential to ignore

- dick and babs were the ultimate gossip buddies. whenever dick was with the titans for long periods of time, babs always filled him in on everything

babs: dick you’ll never believe what hal said to bruce last night, i even have videos. dick, the look on his face please—

dick, immediately locking doors so his teammates don’t hear the mad shit about to be dropped on main: tell me everything

- vice versa too, dick filled babs in on everything going on with the titans and all they can say is thank god those lines are bat secured with no villains being able to listen in, imagine deathstroke hearing through bat gossip that joey’s dating who?!?! 😳

- batkids have been and always will be the holder of superhero gossip. it’s a business, you see, but we’re getting off topic 😡

- lmfao anyways this is literally how dick finds out about jason

babs: anyways, jason—

dick: who the fuck is jason

babs: ....

dick: barbara?!?!

babs: ok promise you won’t freak out

- babs and dick’s first reaction upon meeting jason being “why is he so small i wasnt that small” “dick you were literally nine when you were robin—“ “he’s tiny” it’s like those two share the same braincell

- i’m making it so that dick gave jason his number earlier because i feel like it 😡😡😡 (not that it changes much other than the fact that i want more gossip dropped in dm’s)

- when dick gave jason his number, he went to babs like “give me jason’s number” “didn’t you literally just give him your’s?” “ya but i’m gonna make sure he texts me” “ya ok that’s fair”

- whenever jason didn’t want to be in the manor (fight with bruce, boredom, etc) he went to wherever the fuck babs lived and they would facetime dick and talk mad shit. it was a thing.

- despite them all being able to drive, babs was the only one during this time with an actual, legitimate, legal license (jason was too young to have a license and dick is too lazy/busy/whatever-excuse-he-wants-to-use to take the permit and driving test) so babs drove them around everywhere and it was a mess™ consisting of a bunch of backseat drivers

- “dick omg look at this video i found from the batcave” “omg he said robin gives him magic” “robin gives him magic” they both cry about it for years to come

- babs sometimes kidnapped jason after school after telling the head of wayne manor (alfred) and took him to get ice cream, then to the library while she worked. jason was the greatest kid in the library, he even had his own throne special chair just for him whenever he came provided by library staff who adored this absolute angel.

- jason 🤝 babs 🤝 dick -> i believe in annoying yet endearing nicknames supremacy

- nicknames include (some used by some more than others or just one, or by both equally because they’re annoying pick and choose my good people)

little wing (iconic, we all know this one fellas and who uses it)

red (used for babs, absolutely fantastic, but in the future it gets confusing because some people with their goddamn hero names 😡)

boy wonder (classic, babs calls them both that)

barbie (for babs, jason uses this one and he’s the only one able to get away with it)

dickie (jason just really gets away with everything huh)

dickhead (jason’s lucky he’s cute)

baba black sheep (jeez i’m on a roll with babs’ nicknames she’s so nickname-able and that’s very cool and sexy of her)

jay z

jay allen

jay jay jay (shut up, dickhead—)

big bird

and a bunch more i’m too tired to look for them in canon or make new ones up, but you get the idea

- dick can totally bake, and babs and jason keep bugging him when he’s baking and add more chocolate chips while pretending to not notice that he can see them 😡😡😡

- headcanon that jason had hero worship for babs and dick because they’re so cool in and out of costume and it never really went away when he got older listen his older brother and pseudo sister are so cool and that’s not his fault but he’ll never admit it

- barbie movie marathons because barbie is an iconic legend and they all recognize it. they have the fucking “she’s the queen of the WA-A-A-AVES” song memorized along with all other barbie movie songs, they sing it on patrol.

- dick and jason’s sibling dynamic was and is basically “ur a little shit and i hate you but i will literally kill for you”

- dick had tension with bruce while jason was just a little shit who would totally cause drama for the sake of it, and people never take advantage of this absolute power duo for destroying bruce

- dick sending cryptid texts to jason through a burner phone because he’s dramatic jason totally knew it was him about things that drive bruce mad, like leaving the shower turned to the coldest setting before bruce got there, leaving the lights in the batcave on, etc. jason, a wise little child, totally took advantage of this. bruce came to accept his fate

- the gc names, guys the group chat names

- jason crashing into titans tower whenever he wants and dick doesn’t bat (hAH) an eye, occasionally he very sweetly asks babs to come with him and she agrees but only sometimes because some people have jobs, jason—wait dick is being flirted with by who?!?! i’ll leave it up to your imagination ;) and they totally crashed titans missions too

- one time bruce was busy with the league while alfred was on vacation and bruce absolutely could not dip (i’m imagining bruce getting a call from the headmaster during an honest to god fight and bruce just picking up while punching the daylights out of some asshole) (“mr wayne, what is that noise in the background?” “sorry, headmaster, the cat is having a seizure”), so when jason got into a “fight” (read: some jackass picking on jason before he snapped and yelled at him and the bitchass kid tried to punch him and jason’s no quitter) bruce called dick who was an adult and legally family (yes dick is adopted sometime after jason was, stay mad) like “son... son please” and dick was like “oh no need to plead with me, this is too good” but of course this bitchass doesn’t have an actual lisence yet and he was hanging out with babs anyways so he and babs rolled up to gotham academy and the kids stared at them like “holy shit they’re so cool” ya dick and babs are those power couple, whether romantic or not, that turn heads, they’re just that powerful strolled into the office, bailed jason out while intimidating the headmaster because the altercation was the result of school staff negligence of actual bullying like those cliche tropes, said “ayyy you got that brat good” and get him chili dogs or whatever the fandom made robin jason’s favorite food. omg i just made an entire fanfic in rough draft form someone please steal it and write it in full form and send me the link

- jason is very very tiny, you see. babs and dick pick him up and move him for any reason, whether because they want to sit on that chair or to just throw him out of harm’s way and take the bullet for themselves.

- jason and dick both get adorable blushes on their faces it’s genetic yes that’s how genetics work shut up meanwhile babs’ ears turn red when she’s embarrassed and all three of them clown each other for it

- i yelled about this to my mutual (cough cough @littlespaceboii) who also added to this absolute dogshit headcanon and then in the discord full of mutuals, but the basement of wayne manor is haunted. dick found it when he was a little gremlin (i stand by that dick was the original demon child) (“you see damian, before there was you there was me” the real reason he was good with damian lmfao) and was like “omg this is so cool” @littlespaceboii came up with that it was just alfred fucking with bruce and so when jason first came and dick was comfy around him he was like “so have you been in the basement” and jason was like “im literally robin i’ve been in the batcave?!?!” and dick goes “no the basement, the haunted one” and jason’s like “hAUNTED?!?!” cuz jason has at least some self preservations and knows not to fuck with the spookies until he too became a spooky and bruce was like “there’s no ghost it’s not haunted” because he’s a skeptic and a party pooper and babs is like “no go on let him finish” even though she knows full well there are no ghosts or does she? and uhhhh basically they becomes ghostbusters 2.0 but cooler and funnier

- this trio is basically baby pan/bisexual jason and two resident expert pan/bisexuals solidarity but that’s literally canon. they go to pride every year that jason’s alive what who said that?

- they all tease each other for their crushes like all siblings/family friends do, i don’t need to say it but it’s important that’s emphasized for my well being

- yelled about this in the discord to the mutuals who added onto this absolute train wreck too, but jason used to play baseball during his robin days, and dick never showed up to those games with being busy as an excuse, but babs always showed up with bruce and alfred and took pictures for dick so dick could be like “mlb players are jobless now that little wing is on the scene” babs (and sometimes bruce) always shouted loudest for jason whether he was in the field or in the dugout and jason would get this extremely adorable blush on his face (jason finds out in the future why dick never showed up (cough cough ptsd from two face’s massive baseball bat which led to everything that came after including being fired and veangance academy and nearly killing two face and omg that’s a ride) and is like oh my god my childhood is even more ruined—)

- remember when i said dick got adopted after jason did in this new absolutely fabulous canon i just created? bruce did that because “ahhh fuck that’s my kid and i want him to know i love him through every means possible since i have the ability to do so” i believe in good dad bruce supremacy and made a whole thing where he invited dick to dinner for like a week to work up the courage and bonding to ask him and show him the adoption papers and then everyone cried :) bruce decided to finally adopt dick after jason referred to dick as his brother and bruce was like “...oh” and alfred was like 👀

- dick, as the first child hero and one of the first heroes period like at least a year or two before babs, holds the “back in my day” card over literally everyone in the hero community in general and pulls it out to annoy babs and jason even tho babs literally joined the scene only a year or two after dick

jason, shaking in his panties: it’s so fucking cold

dick, standing strong in his tits out outfit, who had to wear the panties on his own decision: oh, you’re cold? back in my day—

babs, throwing her boot at his face: god shut the fuck up—

and then dick doesn’t give back her boot and it becomes a whole thing with lots of tackling and play fighting and someone nearly gets thrown off they rooftop for funsies but anyways

also on a side note, babs would take off her cape and wrap it around jason whenever she noticed his discomfort with the weather, or use the weather as an excuse whenever she saw him uneasy for whatever reason and they never mention it to each other

- yelled about this in the discord to the mutuals at some point too holy shit i have friends, but those three are team rocket. they went out as team rocket for halloween one year after bullying bruce to let jason out only jason because he can’t tell dick and babs what to do and jason is under his care and when they do convince him, dick and babs bully jason into being meowth. manifesting jason in a meowth onesie ARTISTS PLEASE—

- dick finally took his license seriously and took his driver’s test after babs became paralyzed.

- those were a rough few months for those three. and then another rough few months for those two

- yikes, sorry to throw angst at you (sorry (unfeeling)) anyways, in the future alfred finds those old photos and shows the rest of the fam, so dick and babs bully jason, 6’2 jason that towers way above both of them, and once again bullies him into being meowth “for tradition, little wing!” “shut up, dickhead” the rest of the batkids lose their shit over this, naturally. bruce and alfred stand in the back teary eyed reminiscing the old days when things were a little more simple.

- discowing walked so terrifying handsome squidward red hood helmet could run (even tho the ugly helmet tripped and fell and missed the mark because discowing wasn’t ugly and will always remain superior, i feel i have committed a terrible crime comparing the two)

dick: jason what the fuck is that

jason: it’s fashion

dick: it’s terrifying

jason: i’m only following in my older brother’s footsteps 😔

dick: listen here, you little shit strangles him haha just kidding that illegal wait theyre vigilantes they don’t follow the law—

- these three and cass refer to the rest of the batkids as “the kids” (if she’s older than jason, sometimes she is and sometimes she isn’t and i’m really confused but whatever)

- babs and dick’s relationship with jason pre death literally shaped how jason treats his siblings post pit madness like he literally goes “what would red and big bird do?!??” when he needs to go into big brother mode over the “little ones” (“little” because tim and steph are adults and duke is nearly an adult himself oh my god he’ll graduate from high school soon and jason never got to do that himself he’s totally going to the ceremony legally dead or not) 🥺

- holy trinity continue hanging out with each other, whether lunch or games or whatever, and just enjoy each other’s company after long, rough years

[razorblade180]

Interdimensional Moms pt3

Part 2 right here! <-

Team RWBY continue their interesting chat about their respective worlds. After the emotional roller coaster that was Weiss’s, a bit of light hearted stories would be welcomed.

Yang:Okay, does anyone have some real feel good things to talk about for their world? Just run of the mill pleasant life?

Ruby:Guess I’m going last....

Yang:Oh no!

Weiss:We’ll circle back to you then. Blake, I guess you’re up.

Blake:Wouldn’t you want calmer stuff at the end?

Yang:Blake, I would very much like to go at least ten minutes without wanting to cry.

Blake:Hmmmm I can guarantee you like...six I think.

Yang:I’ll take it! Blake Belladonna, tell me about a world where you and Jaune Arc are happily married. How did such stars align?

Blake:You make it sound crazy?

Weiss:Blake, there’s list of people I could see you with. Now I’m not saying Jaune couldn’t be one of them, but he’d have to fight his way up that list.

Blake:You...that’s kinda fair. It’s a bit hard to explain really. It happened back at Beacon initially, or our bonding did. Some days his team was busy and I didn’t tag along for the crazy antics you three wanted to do all the time, so we occasionally bumped into each by circumstances. He’d go to the library for a book, I’d do training and he was there, or sometimes he’d knock on our door and not realize I was the only one around.

Weiss:Was he trying to sing to me?

Blake:That plan did show up at our a few times, yes. One of those times I asked him out of nowhere to sing the song anyways because I just had to know if it was any good. Hehe, it wasn’t sonically pleasing at times, but you could tell it was genuine. Eventually though...he just sort of gave up on you. It was actually a little sad to see, even you thought so. It was strange. Jaune was definitely stumbling through his flirting and it came off as childish, yet the day he gave up, it was easy to see his heart was breaking a bit. Like all his insecurities ate even the faux confidence away.

Yang:Ma’am, it has barely been three minutes and I’m getting sad about thinking of Jaune being sad.

Weiss:Yeah don’t tell me I broke his heart!

Blake:Whoops, sorry. It’s important though. Jaune kinda kept to himself a little more after that. He still chatted pretty regularly but it was easy to tell he dived more in studies as a way to keep his head clear, which lead to us being on a project together. I was the only person in our friend group that wouldn’t actively try to make him open up about how he feeling. At first I thought it was a bit rude when he told me that, but I didn’t room to talk when it comes to socializing.

Yang:One more time for the people in the back.

Ruby:I’m the back.

Blake:*smirks* I was very against socializing about my feelings at Beacon.

Ruby:Yeah you were.

Weiss:I couldn’t even ask if you slept well without a lukewarm answer sometimes.

Blake:I’m better now. That’s all that matters. Romance and feeling love is a personal thing and talking about it is uncomfortable. I think we both recognized that in each other during our project. Trouble is, there’s only so many conversation starters and small talk subjects. Talking only about the project was dry and eventually all the facts a person could say about themselves ran out. Favorite food, color, hobbies, etc. We eventually had to dig a little deeper into those topics. To our surprise, we actually more in common than we thought when it came to how we felt about certain pieces of literature and music.

Ruby:Awwww, bonding over smut.

Blake:*red* It wasn’t all adult literature! Some were poems and stuff. Even when the project ended, we began being less formal around each other and hanging out. We went to the bookstores we mentioned and he even got us tickets to bands I liked. It...it was nice. I never really got to have just a normal teenage experience before without it being political. He always felt bad about being average compared to everyone but average was so foreign to me that I welcomed it. I liked having a normal time out. It was a thing we all took for granted. Especially when Beacon fell.

Yang:Yeah, that probably put a real bind on your relationship.

Blake:Actually....we technically never officially started to date.

Ruby:What? You courted each other all of Beacon.

Weiss:Ruby, who the heck says courted? I’m a Schnee and even I have never used the word courted.

Ruby:Hush, I read a lot of bed time stories to a five year old.

Blake:We were a bit shaky on labels. Me for obvious reasons. As for Jaune, it’s really true about what they say about guys when they get heart broken.

Yang: “Never again.”

Blake:Hehehe, it’s funny to look back at it but he’ll tell you it’s a bit cringy. He was so on gaurd. I could tell all the time when he was mentally telling himself to not be excited whenever we hung out or I complimented him.

Ruby:Hey it takes guts to shift feelings to a teammate of your first crush. That could blow up in your face.

Blake:Yeah...about that. *looks at Yang* you...were another reason why nothing was official. You uhhh, we actually had some jumbled up emotions.

Weiss:*sarcastic gasp* You and Yang, liking each other? Who could’ve seen that coming?

Yang:Was it mutual or...

Blake:Very mutual. Also...intimate at times.

Yang:*red* Oh....yeah. Yeah that tracks.

Blake:That jumbled mess was only more confusing after you got hurt trying to rescue me from Adam. Meeting up with-

Ruby:Question, so was Sun just not on your radar?

Blake:Sun? We’re just friends. He’s cute and I’m glad he was there for me when I needed help but things between us were always pretty calm. I think he noticed how confused I was with other people in my life and chose to not add to it.

Ruby:Bless him. Please continue.

Blake:Learning about Salem and reconnecting with you all was a lot. I’d really been out of the loop and my Yang and I were on....shaky ground.

Yang:That’s what happens when you leave someone who’s been left their entire life.

Blake:Sigh...yeah. It was a trying time, but not with JNPR. It’s funny, Oscar and I also hit it off quite well from the jump. I think we were both glad to have each other learn on the craziness at once. Even with readjusting, Jaune and I fell back into a groove naturally. Instead of doing average things we day dreamed of the things we did. Once again we become this little slice of simple life in this crazy adventure. Still didn’t date.

Weiss:What is this, a slow burn!?

Yang:Weiss, you literally didn’t date your Jaune until Atlas.

Weiss:There’s a difference. I didn’t make any heart eyes at him until around Atlas. I say I may have been a little quick. These two were “courting” for over a year at this point.

Ruby:Stop making fun of me!

Blake:Well anyways, I wouldn’t say much was too eventful in terms of romance with world destroying things happening. Salem, she was way too much to deal with. Every move age did was calculated and unrelenting. Keeping our head above water wasn’t easy. In fact, it was boarder line impossible. Yang and I barely beat Adam after all.

Yang:How’d you two feel about that?

Blake:Relieved. Huge weight off my mind, and yet...a piece of me still wishes things never got so dire. At least now I know that in another world, things aren’t.

Ruby:Sounds like your world was put through their paces? You survived though.

Blake:Not conventionally. I gotta say, hearing the ages and how you beat Salem so far makes me feel more than a little embarrassed. To be frank, we didn’t have this grand battle that involved the entire world making a final stand. We had Atlas, and then we had Haven. With their might and a plan to gain more time, we managed to seal Salem in a vault.

Yang:*chokes on water* Y- cough what!?

Ruby:You put her in a vault!?

Weiss:Thah sounds harder than a last stand honestly.

Blake:No matter what way we looked at things, we just weren’t ready for her, so we locked her away until we were. Two years on constant defense from her followers and grimm until Ruby had trained enough to use her silver eyes and we were all strong enough.

Ruby:Two years!? How old was I then?

Blake:Twenty I believe.

Weiss:Hey, you beat mine by a year.

Yang:Not mine, I think we either tied or just narrowly beat yours by like a year. Honestly it hard to keep track of birthdays and stuff.

Ruby:Wow. No offense to myself, but that’s a little disappointing. I guess being the same person really doesn’t mean we were all at the same level.

Blake:Hey, my Ruby put everything she had into saving the world. There wasn’t a second she wasn’t trying her best to defend it!

Ruby:My point exactly. If that was her at her absolute best then by all accounts, she doesn’t hold a candle to me; at least back then anyways. But I have no reason to believe she would be at my level now.

Yang:Okay little miss prideful, care to tell us when you saved the-

Ruby:Seventeen.

The reaper took a long swig of coffee while the others processed that information. It took a her a couple of seconds to realize she may be acting just a tad bit arrogant.

Ruby:Uhh, sorry. I think I was tooting my own horn a bit there.

Weiss:Seventeen....why so soon?

Yang:Why? Don’t you mean how?

Blake:That’s....almost unbelievable.

Ruby:Really? I don’t think so. I’ll dive into it when it’s my turn but for now all I really gotta say is people needed help, and I was going to answer those cries. I bet your Ruby had a similar urgency in her, but for some reason or another just had different limitations. I got hurt a lot as a kid. Maybe an injury did more damage in one universe than another? Who can say?

Blake:I...wouldn’t know. Odd, I know if my Ruby heard this, then she’d probably be more than a little upset. Saving lives is still what she’s all about. I know when she put everything she had into fighting Salem when the day came. All that training paid off. Her skills were polished and her silver eyes eradicated the grimm essence in Salem.

Ruby:Wait, she’s not dead?

Blake:No. Salem roams Remnant with Oz keeping an eye on her until one day she can finally grasp the lesson the gods wanted her to have.

Yang:That uhhh sounds risky.

Weiss:Yet oddly okay?

Blake:Funny, my Weiss said that too. Those two get checked on in secret. Can’t be too careful. With Salem beaten though, Remnant entered a state of...let’s call it average chaos. All in all, it’s way more peaceful but you know, people will be people. Downside about a secret war is you don’t get the unity of the masses. Atlas and Haven working together was still a great step in the right direction though.

Yang:Woah, I’m a little jealous. My world felt like a race against the clock. The pressure either broke you or made you harder than diamond, with most people crushing under it.

Weiss:Yeah. The tension and meet of extremes I had on the frontlines was beyond imagination. The unity was great, but to feel it on the battlefield against the odds was feeling with way too much adrenaline and stress. Can’t say I enjoyed it. I simply lived through it.

Blake:Well it isn’t like I had a walk in the park. But I guess in comparison, my experience was a tad more mellow. Still, people were lost and hurt. Oscar isn’t himself anymore, don’t have Penny, former classmates and a few enemies turned allies fell in battle. Family.... it took a bunch to get the plan of containing, then it took a lot more to do it. In a way though, the two years of training is time I can’t regret. It tested bonds, strengthening and reestablishing others.

Ruby:I take it since love couldn’t bloom on the battlefield, it bloomed in the training yards?

Blake:*red* You can say that. That’s when Jaune and I got serious. *frowning* But.....

Yang:We fell apart?

Blake:Yeah. I didn’t learn my lesson well enough the first time about the potential problems of dating a partner. Only difference this time was I felt like I was the one being cruel. We had gotten into arguments and apologized more than once. Your fear of being left and my own insecurities just kept butting heads. I’d cry, you’d cry, our friends would be concerned. Then the day came where you put it all on the line. You confessed genuinely how much you loved me and how you felt a bit jealous when it came to Jaune. I had never seen you look so vulnerable; letting your gaurd completely down. And though a piece of me loved you and wanted you in my life for ever....this sense of genuine comfort Jaune gave was something I want-needed for so long. So I did the one thing I didn’t want to do. I broke your heart. I hurt you again.

Yang:Sigh....*leans back in chair* Okay, let’s see how well I know myself. My eyes went red automatically, followed by tears. I lashed out at you angrily out of pain and embarrassment until I was probably blue in the face. But to take make things worse, somebody probably overheard. No matter who it was, I yelled at them too for trying to calm me down and then I eventually run off leaving everyone unhappy. A good old meltdown. Sound about right?

Blake:To the letter. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so distraught.

Yang:Of course not, I’ve never been in love before meeting you. I....did a similar thing with my Blake over the stupid Adam shit. *covers face* of all the things to be similar, it had to be my temper. Please tell me our team didn’t suffer too harshly?

Blake:The good thing about two years of training was it didn’t have to be together all the time. Team RWBY didn’t fall apart, but it didn’t feel comfortable either. Outside of missions, the four of us didn’t hang out as much. It was three at the most. Nobody pinned blame on me or Yang for it but it was obvious.

Ruby:I mean how can you blame someone for feeling sad or not in love with someone? Pointing fingers doesn’t do anything. However, I bet missions were rough.

Blake:Bumblebee was shelved. We did any other team up we could. When push came to shove, Yang and I did put feelings aside. Neither of us wanted our feelings to get anyone killed. That’s probably what kept us connected for awhile, especially with Salem. I don’t think we questioned each other when it came to watching one another’s back. Slowly, our relationship got a bit better. Until....we stopped speaking to each other altogether about a couple years later.

Yang:Wait, why!?

Blake:I got pregnant.

The three listeners’ faces scrunched up and they let in a sharp breath like they just got cut. No one had considered that bombshell.

Blake:Marriage was rough enough. Having Jaune’s kid and starting a family just...cut deep I guess. You didn’t make a scene or anything if that’s what you’re worried about. One day you told me “I just can’t do this” and exited my life. I wanted to keep you close to me, but you wanted to be closer. That was a thing I couldn’t do. Hehe, I can’t tell you how weird it is talking to you like this again.

Yang:So that’s it!? We just don’t see each other at all!?

Blake:Certain events and celebrations have us in the same room, but that’s all. Ruby is the only thing that regularly links us, but she’s busy living life too.

Ruby:Is it a good life?

Blake:The best. You’re the huntress you always wanted to be and a hero to many.

Ruby:*smiles* Really? That’s good. May she ride that high for as long as she can. Though I bet she wished she had a special someone to share that with.

Blake:Huh? Oh, you married Weiss.

Weiss:*red* What!?

Ruby:Aye, nice.

Weiss:Weren’t you upset about thinking of other people with Jaune besides you!?

Ruby:Yeah, but I won’t deny if I am going to be with someone that isn’t him, I’m very happy it’s the other special person in my life. I mean come on, the only reason we don’t get weird in your universe is because I married your brother and you already invited my sister.

Weiss:I mean...it’s mainly the brother portion. The second part...

Ruby:Weiss, that’s weird.

Yang:Eh...

Ruby:IT’S WEIRD! YOU CANNOT TELL ME OTHERWISE!

Yang:*sips coffee* Eh.

Blake:Anyways, Weiss, you’re running your company. The Schnee Dust Company was scrubbed top to bottom to remove as much corruption as possible. No department was overlooked. In times of money, there’s a notable decrease in how much the company used to make.

Weiss:Gee, I wonder if that’s because the other me is doing oh let me guess, paying all their workers and not cutting corners in safety?

Blake:The SDC people approval has gone up considerably, just so you know that too. Turns out people like it when the company they buy from have good morals.

Weiss:Am I happy though? I make time for my social life and hu- I mean wife?

Blake:Yea, you’re happy. In a way I think we’re all happy, but....

Yang:We’d be happier if we were all happy together? Yeah, that’s how it works. You’re only as happy as the most miserable person in a family or group; if you all care about each other that is. Ugh, I wanna punch the other me. I get how she feels but it’s fucking immature to just ignore years of teamwork and family. At the end of the day, team RWBY is a family! Can’t believe I’d runaway from it instead of figuring out...I don’t know! Something!

Blake:*small smile* Well if you feel that way then there’s no reason to believe she doesn’t. My Yang just struggles with it more I guess, but I hope she can come around one day. Not really for my sake, but for her own peace of mind. As well as Lucas’s.

Ruby:Lucas? Your son I take it?

Blake:Mmhmm. My strong and lazy young man. He got his father’s hair but my eyes and ears. I can’t think of a person who warms my heart quite like him. He acts uninterested in a lot of things, but his heart is so big.

Weiss:Ah, so he’s just you?

Blake:More or less hehe. Though I’d say I was passionate about things all my life. Lucas will sleep all day if he could and doesn’t like going out without a reason.

Weiss:Still sounds like you if I’m being honest. Teenager?

Blake:Seventeen, almost eighteen.

Yang:You said he’s need peace of mind too? I’m not...hostile towards him am I?

Blake:No, not by a long shot. On the occasions you two have meant, you were polite. It’s just he knows why you don’t visit or talk to me. That’s rough, knowing your parent’s closest friend stopped being apart of their life because you were born. I think sometimes he believes it’s actually his fault.

Yang:I really, really want to meet this other me and have a few words. She needs to know she isn’t trying hard enough. I’m proof.

Ruby:Yeah, but you’re only well off because the person that helped you get over Blake, was Jaune. Yeah she still can find love, but who that person will be would be uncharted territory for everyone.

Blake:Also I’m not entirely sure exactly if my Yang is even bi like you.

Yang:Sigh....

Weiss:Love.

Blake:Huh?

Weiss:As long as a person shows your Yang genuine love and a place in their heart where she’ll remain forever, Yang would fall for them. They just have to make it a point to make her feel like they’ll stay. Yangs are softies like that.

Yang:Wow, you an expert on me and all the versions of me now?

Weiss:No, you’re just a bleeding heart that’s super emotional. Let me guess, you fell for Jaune the moment you realized just how relaxed and vulnerable you could allow yourself to be around him.

Yang:*red*.......he holds me when I’m overwhelmed.

RWB:Awwww

Yang:Shut up! Blake, take the heat off me.

Blake:Not too much more. Lucas is a smart kid who generally stays out of trouble. Unfortunately, trouble finds him. Mainly because of his semblance.

Ruby:Don’t tell me...

Blake:No no, it’s not bad luck like your uncle, but Lucas can’t always control it so their similar in that regard. Premonitions, that’s his semblance.

Weiss:Like...the future? You child can see the future?!

Blake:Yeah. *sips drink* it’s terrible.

Ruby:What? That sounds so handy! Man, if I could someone fighting me before it happened, I’d be a monster on the battlefield.

Blake:Lucas isn’t a fighter. Well, he’s not aspiring to fight. He can fight, pretty dang well in fact.; but randomly seeing the future is not a gift. Imagine picking up a book and you suddenly know the ending, or watching a movie and you start seeing the middle of it right after you press play?

Yang:Ahhh, that’s why he’s lazy and unmotivated. His semblance is massive spoiler alert. Half the fun of new things is not knowing what will happen.

Ruby:Oof, you have a point. I’d be paranoid to no end.

Blake:To a point, he was. Ever since he was ten. Disasters happen at the drop of a hat. Lucas isn’t the kind of person to watch bad things unfold, so whenever it was possible or even if it was risky, he’d do whatever he could to prevent said disaster. But.....there���s only so much anyone person can do. There’s only so much information he sees. The constant strain and guilt that came from failing ate him up. The. There’s the incidents he’s seen that didn’t show him how it began or how it will end. *rubbing her hands* It’s bad...

Weiss:Hey, I...I’ve noticed your hands and frankly even your face are a bit....slim. Your skin isn’t as colorful as I’m used to either. Almost like it’s regaining color.

Blake:Hehehe.......I guess you were bound to notice of all people.

Weiss:Of course. I may not run a a company in my world but I keep tabs on my brother and have had my fair share of visits to a doctor. Why wouldn’t I notice.

Yang:So can we talk as if there are people who have no clue what’s going on?

Weiss:Blake has had one of two things happen to her. She’s either worked way too hard to the point she’s not taking care of her health, or she’s fallen very ill and her body is still recovering.

Blake:Yeah, it’s more of the second one, but probably because of the first one as well. Forwarding equality, I was overzealous with it. One day Lucas just started shaking and crying when he was twelve and I couldn’t understand why. Turns out he kept seeing me bedridden and unconscious without a reason. Day in and day out he simply cried and tried his best to get another premonition to learn more, but couldn’t. A week later I started feeling a little dizzy, and then blacked out after vomiting. At first I thought maybe I had the flu or something. Nope, a tumor.

Weiss:What?

Ruby:Blake!?

Yang:Oh shit, are you-

Blake:Perfectly fine! *smiles* I’m fine. Liver cancer, but it was caught early. No more tumor what so ever, but the meds and the entire process was really draining. Got sicker a couple of times. Not once did I feel like I was dying necessarily, more like...slipping? I felt myself getting drained. The whole time Lucas was so scared; blaming himself for not preventing this or knowing how to fix it. Though simply knowing he saw me like was a warning most people wish they got. I know I said seeing the future is terrible, but the scariest part through all of this was not knowing how it ended. Choosing medicine, doctors, surgery possibilities, it made me crack under pressure a little. I think he noticed that. I wasn’t sure if I picking an option that lead me dying or getting better. The stress alone may have killed me. Ever since then Lucas hasn’t been so outgoing.

Ruby:....

Weiss:....

Yang....It was already said, but there was no way this wasn’t going to get sad was there?

Blake:Take it from me, there’s joy in pain. So many people came to visit me when I was recovering. Even Yang dropped by for a bit. After I got out, I don’t think Lucas ever hugged me so hard. Jaune tried to stay calm through the whole ordeal but it was rough for him too. He was all but spent emotionally when I came home.

Weiss:I’m surprised Lucas didn’t become an older brother.

Blake:The last thing a recovering patient needs is a pregnancy, but as far as missing me goes...

Ruby:You can stop right there with that tangent.

Yang:We’ll talk about that in private. I wouldn’t mind that story.

Blake:*playfully rolls eyes* These days I try not to over do things. I’ve only officially been deemed completely cured for about a year. I can feel that I’m still not entirely up to strength. It’s fine though. It gives me an excuse for Lucas to dote on me a little. He’s a mama’s boy at heart. My biggest worries these days is peeling him out of this shell his semblance had put him in. At the very least I want him to smile like he used to and find away to live in moment when possible. His entire life is ahead of him. Hopefully he doesn’t see all of it.

Ruby:I guess too much of anything really is bad. Knowledge included. I hope things work out.

Yang:Me too. A happy life is something you definitely earned.

Blake:Thanks. That seriously means a lot, which is why I made sure to not end this on a sour note.

The happy faunus pulled out her scroll to scroll through pictures and her friends eyes lit up. The first one was a beach photo. This Jaune was different from what they were used to. He let his hair grow a little bit longer and the back went down his neck, but it was definitely still him. This jaune was pretty toned and went for a lean look than bulky like Weiss’s, but a tad slimmer. On his shoulders was an adorable toddler with wide amber eyes and big blonde cat ears. Both men were enjoying the sunset on the waves.

The next photo was more recent with Blake right in the middle of hopping into Lucas’s arms. Weiss noticed the girl still had on the hospital bracelet. She must’ve just gotten cleared. Lucas had grown like a weed. He was now roughly Jaune’s height. His hair was messy and looked like Jaune’s in his younger years. Also like his father, Lucas was jacked! His sleeveless purple shirt should off his biceps as they wrapped around Blake’s torso for a hug. His baggy purple shorts had black and gold trim through the seams and the shorts stopped right below his knees; but showed of his well defined calves. A smile of pure joy and what could’ve been a few tears were visible as he looked lovingly at his mother. It warmed all of the ladies hearts. Still, the girls also could tell under his eyes were a little dark. Lucas must’ve been very tired.

The final picture had to be the most recent. It was Blake and Lucas sparring. Both looked at each other with excitement and ease as their wooden blades clashed. Their clothes mirrored one another by being black and white kimonos. They even wore the traditional shoes and everything.

Weiss:Yeah, that’s your kid.

Blake:Damn right. Unfortunately that makes him a little too stubborn. But I guess that’s okay. Without a doubt, someone’s gonna break through that shell of his.

Yang:Oh? It sounds like you already know who?

Blake:Well....I have a hunch.

xxxxx

RING! RING! RING! Lucas’s scroll chirped, in the middle of the night. The boy let out a long, agitated groan of sleepiness as he rolled over in bed; reaching for his scroll on the nightstand to answer.

Lucas:Hello?

???:Did you know you are mathematically more likely to choke on a hotdog than get attacked by a shark?

Lucas:....Serenity, who gave you my number?

Serenity:Your parents, and it’s Serendipity!

Lucas:Too many syllables. Also a bit ironic given who you are. With the way you act though, my name for you is better.

Serenity:Ooooo so we’re moving on to pet names? How forward of you.

Lucas:Five seconds before I hang up. Three...two-

Serenity:You’re late! You promised to guide me around the beach at twelve. That’s now.

Lucas:.....P.M. Twelve P.M. Serenity. Why in the world would I mean midnight!?

Serenity:It’s romantic and personal. Nobody else is around. I thought you were trying to use that Belladonna magic on me by acting all cool and aloof in the moonlight.

Lucas:.....

Lucas:Please delete my number.

Serenity:Not on your life, my whiskered bodyguard!

Lucas:Don’t have whiskers-

Serenity:If you don’t wanna move that butt of yours to hang out with a pretty girl in a floppy hat and sundress with a bikini underneath, that’s your loss. I’m still going for a dip.

Lucas:Do not go in the water when nobody is around.

Serenity:Pfft, I’m a strong swimmer.

Lucas:Sharks.

Serenity:It’s more dangerous to eat a hotdog.

Lucas:Sharks feed at night.

Serenity:Are you trying to tell me the statistics aren’t as reliable just because it’s nighttime.

Lucas:That’s exactly what I’m saying.

Serenity:Then you better move your butt just in case. Either you get a snack or the sharks do. Either way, I get attention.

Lucas:Difference is one wants to eat you.

Serenity:My goodness Lucas, oh brazen of you.

Lucas:......

Lucas:Tell the sharks I said hi.

Serenity:Okay! Byyyyyyeeeee! *hangs up*

Lucas:(She’ll be fine.)

..........

Lucas:*putting on shoes* This is bullshit. Who thinks midnight!? *walking down stairs* Can’t have a peaceful day or night....

Jaune:*watching tv* Hey Lucas, going some-

Lucas:I’m giving out your phone number to a homeless man the first chance I get! *walks out door*

Jaune:.....(Whatever gets you outside more.)

It took about fifteen minutes of aggressive walking for Lucas to wrap around to the back of his house towards their section of the beach. Where Serenity walked around humming and collecting seashells without a care in the world.

Lucas:The next shell you grab will have a crab in it.

Serenity:Huh? Oh hey you’re finally-ahhhh! Ow ow ow ow ow ow!

Lucas:Should’ve listened.

Serenity:Have a better warning!!!! It won’t let go!

Lucas:Pull it off.

Serenity:That’s hurt!!! Lucas, help!

Lucas:Fine, if you delete my number.

Serenity:*sniffling* Stop being mean!!! This really hurts, it’s breaking the skin. Isn’t a young and pretty girl’s tears payment enough!? I thought you were getting paid to-

Lucas:Oh my goodness! Okay, just shush. I’m too sleepy for this.

Serenity:You’re mean when you’re sleepy. At least your waking up voice sounds handsome though.

Lucas:Please....stop. Stop everything. *removing crab* Happy?

Serenity:No, you’re not happy. Also my finger is bleeding.

Lucas:Yep, looks like you can’t go swimming now for real.

Serenity:Eh, I lied anyways. I’m not getting in that water. There are sharks in that watery grave.

Lucas:So. Why. Did. You. Wake. Me. Up?

Serenity:....*red* I...don’t really, have friends here. Besides you. Umm *points to pail and shovels* sandcastles?

Lucas:*inhales*......I’ll get the water.

Serenity:*smiles* Yes! I’ll delete your number later.

Lucas:*red* You....can keep it of you really want.

Serenity:....Kek, okay Mr. Tsundere

Lucas:You can remove the next crab alone.

Serenity:Don’t joke like that! That was a joke, right?

Lucas:Welp that pail isn’t gonna fill itself. *leaves*

Serenity:What!? Lucas!!! You were joking right!? Right!? *looking around the sand* you’re a lousy bodyguard!

Lucas:Good, fire me.

Serenity:I...you....ugh!

Lucas:Cheer up, I’m happy now after all. *smiles*

Serenity:*pouting* This is why I’m a dog person.

[honeypirate]

In Madness lies Sanity

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader - College AU

Based off the bit by Allan Watts. I read the transcript and I thought— Ushijima in love with his best friend listening to this talk about love in one of his classes and realizing that he needs to tell them the truth. Allan watts bit is in blue, the fic is in white.

Ushijima wasn’t one to dwell too long on trivial matters. He works through them and then forgets them. He focuses on what is important and what will bring him closer to his desired future. He isn’t one who is sucked into madness and drama, he has a strong level head and it’s something he takes pride in. So he’s trying to apply his ideas to how he handles his feelings for you, is it trivial? Is it important to tell you? He was struggling before he walked into class Monday morning and had his eyes opened by the video played during lecture.

- I’m going to talk to you about a particularly virulent and dangerous form of divine madness which is called falling in love. Which is, from a practical point of view, one of the most insane things you can do, or that can happen to you. Because in the eyes of a given woman or a given man, an opposite who go to the eyes of everybody else a perfectly plain and ordinary person can appear to be God or Goddess incarnate .... And this is an extraordinary disruptive experience a subversive experience in the conduct of human affairs

You were never a plain and ordinary person to him and he believes that’s where it got confused. He always has and always will see you as an extraordinary individual, regardless of things that may be seen as flaws or imperfections, regardless of your mistakes. You didn’t transform from one thing to the next, you were the same angel he knew, so when his heart flipped from friendship to love, he wasn’t paying attention.

- Because you never know when it will strike off for what reason. It’s something like contracting a very chronic disease once you get into it

If anyone asked Ushijima who his best friend is his first thought is you. His first thought thought is always you. His constant. His true best friend who is there for him through anything. He’ll open his mouth and say “y/n is my best friend” and when people would point out just how close they are he just shrugged, weren’t friends supposed to be close?

When he thinks back now, now that his feelings are obvious, he realizes that it was just a matter of time until he fell in love with you. He can pinpoint every moment along his life where love was obvious, every joke and hug that at the time he thought was just nice, when he loaned you his sweatshirt and then didn’t wash it because it smelled like you. When he would spend all his valuable and limited free time with you just because he liked the way you would smile as he walked you home. He thinks back to all of his dates in high school and college, of the dating app conversations he’s had or blind dates his friends had set up, and they all failed because of one simple reason- none of them were you.

- I would like to make some reflections on this particular form of madness, and to raise again a very disturbing question. And this disturbing question is as follows: Is it only when you are in love with another person that you see them as they really are? And in the ordinary way, when you are not in love with people you see only a fragmented version of that being.

He’s spent hours turned to days to weeks as he keeps thinking about whether or not he loves you or if he just thinks he could because of how close you already are. He’s lost track of time connecting different dots and making different lists and theories, replaying you’re entire friendship back in his head. He’s thought about the times he saw you drunk in college and puking on his shoes as he helps you home, when you decided you wanted to try and longboard and turfed it so bad your arm was gashed from wrist to elbow and he had carried you to the urgent care. all your reckless and crazy ideas you dragged him along with, you were almost as bad as tendou but he just wanted to take care of you as best as he could. He can feel the desire in his bones to make sure you were always taken care of, a feeling he knows he’ll have until he dies.

He thinks about when you had dated Oikawa and for the entire three months he had an ulcer but didn’t know why. He thought it was because of his pain relievers and quit them the week you broke up with him, not realizing the connection. When he’d get acid in his throat when you talked about dating someone else, he thought he just needed some milk. How blind he had been.

-Because when you are in love with someone you do indeed see them as a divine being. And suppose that’s what they are truly. And your eyes have by your beloved been opened in which case your beloved is serving to you as a kind of guru. An initiator. And that is why there is a form of sexual yoga, based on the idea that man and woman are to each other as mutual guru and student. And through a tremendous outpouring of psychic energy in total devotion and worship to this other person who is respectively the goddess of the god.

Being someone’s best and closest friend consisted of seeing their entirety and choosing to stay and love them anyway. To care for them. He can’t say for certain where he crossed over into love, into wanting to hug you and kiss you, wanting to be the only one you think about, but there’s not much he can do about it now and he doesn’t want to.

Ushijima sees you. He sees your good and your bad and everything in between, he sees you for you. Your ordinary mundane ways of life that he can’t help but want to share with you. Grocery shopping, library trips, post office runs, he wants them all to be done with you. He truly cannot imagine anyone else taking that spot in his heart.

Wanting to show you what he sees. What he knows to be true about you. he wants to scream from the rooftops how amazing you are and he’s not a very loud person. He sees the way you care for your friends selflessly and give and give all you have just so that others can be happy and you never complain. You do what you can when you can and still have time to take care of yourself he never knew how you did it so effortlessly, even when you’d vent to him you never regretted helping others.

He sees the way you lift up those around you. How you leave everyone a little more positive than before you talked to them. He doesn’t know how you do it. He’s convinced you’re an angel and he’s dying to show you just how amazing he knows you are. But he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship. He sees your entirety, your full book instead of just the cover, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wanted to give you this energy and receive it in turn and he’s never been so absolutely terrified.

-You realize by total fusion and contact with the other organism. You go down to the divine center in them and it bounces back and you discover your own or you could put it in this way which is another aspect of it that by falling in love and regarding falling in love not just as a sort of sexual infatuation, because it’s always more than that, isn’t it. I mean you can have a great sexual enjoyment with a pleasant friend, you know. But you may do so simply because he or she appeals to your aesthetic senses. But when you fall in love, it’s a much more serious involvement, you just cannot forget this person. You feel miserable when not in their presence, you’re always yearning, that’s get to see more of each other let’s get together that’s we’re completely entangled and then you see you’ve actually kind of out what I would call spiritual element has been introduced. And the Hindus were sensible enough to realize that this was a means of awakening, enlightenment, and therefore it was. Surrounded. With a sort of rigid religious ritual meditative art, with a form of sexual yoga that is designed to allow the feeling of mutual love to the extent of grand passion to have an extremely fitting fulfillment and expression.

Ushijima has always thought you were beautiful. Any human with eyes would think that. But your beauty and attraction went far deeper than that. Sure he’s had fleeting thoughts about how good you looked in a dress but he never let them linger. It felt wrong to think of you like that. But now that he’s an adult, a grown man and not a teenager anymore, he wants to kiss you, to hold your hand, maybe more but it wasn’t about that. It was about the intimacy, the closeness, the vulnerability.

Awakening. Enlightenment. Two words that before he didn’t really think about. But now he feels changed. Now that he’s realized how much he loves you has lifted his spirits, made him dream of the passion and happiness you could have together. He feels himself slipping into the joy of being in love with his best friend and imagining all the ways that love could grow. He feels only half of himself when he’s without you, always needing to see you or be around you, but you never made him feel clingy or bad. You met him in kind, telling him how much you wanted to be around him too.

At first he thought that this love was a trivial thing, something he could push from his mind, but after his weeks of thought he knows this is a lot more serious than he’s experienced before.

-Falling in love is a thing that strikes like lightning and is therefore extremely analogous to the mystical vision. We don’t know. No how really people attain the mystical vision. There is not as yet a very clear rationale as to how it happens because we do know that it is opened to many people who never did anything to look for it. And many people especially in adolescence have had the mystical vision all of a sudden without the slightest warning and with no previous interest in that kind of thing

He remembers what he was doing when it dawned on him that he was in love, when he felt the air leave his lungs and his eyes widen softly when he realized how nice it would be to kiss your temple and he couldn’t even finish the thought as the feeling ran from his head to his toes.

He was standing in your kitchen as you finished making your lunch for the following day and you made a joke that made yourself laugh, he didn’t think it was a very funny joke but you didn’t care. You giggled to yourself and he couldn’t help but wish he could witness that forever. It hit him like a brick that he would, in almost an instant, give his entirety to you. It terrified him when he imagines you and him ending like his parents. But behind the terror, the fear of divorce, was a softer and quieter emotion that he tried to focus on harder than the insanity of his anxiety. A softer, lovelier, hopeful feeling that he usually gets every time you smile at him. That was the feeling he was searching for, everything else was irrelevant for a few glorious moments.

-But as yet we are not clear as to why it comes about and if there is any method of attaining it the best one is probably to give up the whole idea of getting it…. you see it is completely unpredictable and so it is in that way like falling in love, capricious and therefore crazy. But if you should be so fortunate as to encounter either of these experiences. It seems to me to be a total denial of life to refuse it. And what we therefore have to. Admit in our society is so that we can contain this kind of madness.

He called Tendou that evening, telling him that he thinks he loves you, and Tendou about had a conniption. He was in Paris as his best friend fell in love for the first time. He talked him through it, told him how good it can be. That yes it was going to be work but the reward would be worth it. To not sell himself short out of his own fears. He deserves much more than that. Tendou’s last phrase is what sunk in deep “I know it was unpredictable, that it feels so fickle, but that’s what love is like buddy! You can’t deny it Ushi, you can’t run from it or hide from it, it will only hurt you in the long run”

- You see, in this way we can think about and structure the necessary stable social institution of family sometime without it being constantly threatened of foundering on the rocks of love. Now you see this then means that when when people marry they take any vows at all to each other instead of saying that they will always be true to each other in the sense of meaning I Will Always Love YoU, It means I will be true to you in the sense of I will always be truthful to. I will not pretend that my feelings towards you ARE other than what they are. Because I marry you, because I think that you are a reasonable person to live with and therefore I want you to be you I want you to be someone else I want to be a rubber stamp of me–how boring that would be?! an arrangement in which people set each other free and make an alliance to cooperate with each other in certain ways. Now if it should so occur that they are of immense sexual attraction to each other, so much the better? That this should not be a primary factor in entering into marriage. Admittedly, you must be to a certain extent attractive to each other otherwise there will be no progeny. But this is this is seems to me to be a sensible and reasonable view and just because it is sensible and reasonable it can accommodate what is not sensible and reasonable which is falling in love.

Ushijima is terrified. He’s terrified because the instant immediate joy he felt when he realized he loved you was almost overtaken by worries and stress. He loves you! Now what? He loves structure in his life and he values stability but he knows how rocky relationships can be and how they can ultimately end. He knows he won’t deny it, he won’t back away because of his fear but he needs a plan. A plan to take to you and talk about it, he knows you’ll have the right thing to say but he doesn’t even know what he’ll even say to you yet. He loves that you are so carefree and goofy, a breath of fresh air to his stoicism. You’ve even gently worked your way so deep into his soul that you feel like his other half, his complete other in every way, someone who wasn’t like him at all and how wonderful that is.

Once in his life he thought that arranged marriages were smarter, you did it out of logic and bloodline and family, nothing messy to deal with. But that structure, that boring empty rocky foundation that an arrangement might bring made his mouth taste bad, although at the time he convinced himself it was because it would be more like another job that takes up his time (away from you)

Sensible and reasonable was right up his alley, he thought how nice it would be to have a mini him but he couldn’t think about having that with anyone. He couldn’t think of another half of dna that baby would share that would make it worth it. Not until he saw a picture of you holding your nephew, now whenever he thinks of his babies they share your genes. He thinks of a chunky baby with your eyes and his hair color, a mix of your personality and he’d share volleyball with them. He’s never wanted kids as much as he does when he thinks about sharing them with you. And that’s the part that feels senseless, the love part, the part where you give your entirety to someone and trust that they will care and keep you, no matter what happens, save its not infidelity or other deal breakers of yours he already knows.

Ushijima’s theorizing and thoughts about you over the course of time went from being about understanding why he feels like this to imagining fake scenarios where he wants to take you abroad to travel together, to be together every day and share the hard times and good times, babies or not, marriage or not. He just wants to make you happy for the rest of his life no matter what and he can’t go on much longer without knowing he has a chance to do so

- Well now really when we go back then to falling in love. And say it’s crazy falling. You see we don’t say rising into love. There is in it the idea of the fall. And it is goes back as a matter of fact two extremely fundamental things that there is always a curious tie at some point between the fall and the creation. Taking this ghastly risk, is the condition of there being life. You see, for all life is an act of faith and an act of gamble

And so here he was. Sitting on a bench outside of your dorm, feet bouncing as he stared at the small patch of grass growing in between the sidewalk crack. It’s been a while since that class and he’s been thinking about this constantly.

He knows the risk, feels it in his heart every time he meets up separately with his parents since their divorce. He sees it every time he remembers his childhood and the messy separation. That mess he never wants to repeat. The fall that comes with this love is like that class video had told him, ghastly. He doesn’t know if this could ruin it all, if he takes the leap of faith and it all comes crumbling down years later he’ll be just another divorce. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to end up like his parents and have a child who feels the same. But when he imagines his life he doesn’t think he could be haply without you by his side.

- the moment you take a step, you do so on an act of faith, because you don’t really know that the floors not going to give in to your feet. The moment you take a journey what an act of faith. The moment you enter into any kind of human undertaking in relationship what an act of faith you see you’ve given yourself up. But this is the most powerful thing that can be done surrender see and love is an act of surrender to another person. Total abandonment. I give myself to you. Take me, do anything you like with me. So, that’s quite mad because you see it’s letting things get out of control all sensible people keep things in control.

You know something is up the moment you open the doors and see his back on the bench. You were going to his place since he wasn’t answering his phone, you freeze at the doors at watch him for a moment as your anxiety spikes in your stomach. His shoulders are tense as he leans forward, elbows on his thighs and hands clasped together as he looks down between his bouncing feet. Before you really think about it, you follow the urge to comfort him, to talk to him and make sure it’s all okay. Your feet carry you quickly to his side and you sit down, pulling him into a side hug and wrapping your arms around him.

He gasps when you sit and as you’re wrapping your arms around him he furrows his brows and hugs you back. His heart racing As his fears take the back burner. He didn’t expect you to find him but he also didn’t know how long he’s been sitting here. He buries his face into your neck as he you hold each other in the cool spring evening.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as you hold him and feels his walls break down, his arms tighten around you

“I’m scared” he says quietly and his voice cracks

“Of what Toshi? You can always talk to me” Your fingers run through his hair softly and it soothes his nerves.

He pulls back and cups your cheeks, his eyebrows were still furrowed and his stoic expression was broken by his eyes that were swimming with worry and insecurity.

You saw everything in his eyes and you met him with your determination and steady unwavering love he finds in your eyes. God he feels so mad. So incredibly and undeniably mad and insane and like he isn’t in control. He needs to tell you. Needs the words to come out of his throat so he can calm his heart and soothe his ulcer. The anxiety felt like it was immeasurable and his breathing was starting to get faster until you placed your hands on his cheeks, smothering the bad feelings completely “it’s okay Wakatoshi, I’m right here”

Ushijima feels the exact moment his heart relaxes into the faith, the surrender into love trusting that the floor isn’t going to collapse under his feet, the moment he gives his whole self, body and soul, to the fall, and that moment was when your lips touched his for the first time. Then he let go, the madness left his body and was replaced with a calm assurance that yes, yes this was it, what he’s been waiting for, what he’s been yearning for.

- for all the cost and wisdom what is really sensible is to let go that is to commit oneself to give oneself up and that’s quite mad,

-so we come to the strange conclusion that in madness lies sanity.

[tobiosmilktea]

scenario request: enemies to lovers au! w atsumu, ✨ thank you 💛

paper daisy chains — miya atsumu

5.5k words | genre/s: fluff, a little angst, enemies to lovers!au | warning/s: language, lots of arguing | pairing: atsumu x gn!reader

↪︎ in which three hours of detention leads to your hatred for your former best friend to fall apart all due to a kiss

a/n: you had me at enemies to lovers anon 😏 ngl tho this is not my best work considering i procrastinated on writing this and i needed to post something today ✨

in a mere afterthought—after everything had gone to shit already, it was then you had some forming recuperation of the situation you were in despite always finding a chance to snake your way out was no longer in your hands. so, perhaps you could have handled the situation a little bit better. emphasis on ‘little’ as there was very little you could do about your absolute hatred for miya atsumu and that sly grin on his face.

it wasn’t like this before–this messy relationship between you and atsumu. if anything, you were the bestest friends in middle school, by each other’s side like you were stuck together with glue. yet a single assumption ruined it all, tearing everything down into nothingness.

did you sometimes yearn for things to go back to the way they were before? the simple answer was yes, but your pride would never let atsumu know.

“as for you (y/l/n) (y/n), atsumu is now sporting a broken nose after you punched him during lunch.” the principle states matter-of-factually which earned a quiet scoff from behind you.

despite not standing directly next to you, atsumu was still far too close for your liking as his right shoulder often brushed against you at every small and sudden movement. you could practically feel his breath grazing the exposed part of your neck. however, you couldn’t exactly blame the setter no matter how much you wanted to as both your teacher and his coach had sandwiched you two together.

“disrespectful little swine that one.” inarizaki’s coach grunts loudly towards you, “you oughta teach that one a lesson before she hurts my starting setter again before nationals!”

you flashed the man a toothy grin as you grit them together. he always had an odd way of speaking, “yes, of course, it’s completely my fault for defending myself.” you deadpanned with your own sarcasm of poisonous venom, surprising almost everyone in the office—everyone except atsumu of course. if anything, he’s the only one still smirking in amusement while all the adults had their faces all contorted. 

however, his eyes did widen a bit as he looked at you the moment you smirked up at him with proud delight written across your pretty face.

your teacher cleared his throat, elbowing you slightly in the ribs discretely. “my student didn’t mean that, sir.” he excuses, quickly giving you a warning look as a sign for you to apologize.

“i’m really sorry,” you weren’t sorry.

the principle simply smiled at your scornful apology that left your lips in the most condescending manner. he then switched his gaze back to the atsumu’s coach who has been arguing against the old man for a good fifteen minutes on only punishing you and not atsumu as it ‘wasn’t his fault,’ but you hadn’t been listening. why would you, anyway? in the end, you were going to get the short end of the stick once again with atsumu getting away with everything. from his annoying teases to his backhanded compliments that caused him a blow right on his nose in the first place will never be called out.

enter atsumu’s twin, osamu, through the office doors. to your surprise he (in a way) defended your case by saying that atsumu was provoking you all day. so, you and atsumu were both in the wrong. then again, that’s what happens between two enemies since middle school.

“based on what osamu has said, i have no choice but to give them both detention.” the principle concludes, “atsumu and (y/n) will be on cleaning duty in the library for the time being.”

“if you don’t mind me commenting,” the coach exclaims, drawing himself up to perhaps argue for the umpteenth time again, “atsumu has volleyball practice to—”

the principle immediately cuts him off, “there’s nothing i can do about it.”

“can’t he serve detention after nationals?” he tries to express once more but is cut off yet again.

“then that goes against our policy of having no behavioral issues in order to go on field trips.”

“then it is decided,” your teacher confirms with a nod. even he was getting a bit tired on this back and forth. “i’ll make sure both students will report to the library the moment the final bell rings, sir.”

great.

there was always something unnerving about the after school noon at inarizaki as you teetered on the edge of boredom and monotony. and that’s saying a lot considering you spent the majority of your time after classes secluded in your own room or wandering the streets of hyogo by yourself instead of going to club activities. you’d come to think that maybe, in the absolute inevitability that for once atsumu’s company would be much better than being alone, but you were wrong. so incredibly wrong.

you would much rather stay locked up in your bedroom all day than be stuck mopping the library floors and dusting off the shelves upon shelves of textbooks and novels.

a sigh escapes from your lips as you bring your gaze up to atsumu on the other end of the aisle, his tall figure reached at the tops of each book shelf as he dusted them off haphazardly while you too care of the bottom layers. it was understandable though as the task was not only tedious but simply counterproductive. the shelves were going to get all dusty again weren’t they? granted, punishment was punishment no matter how futile and impractical.

the library’s fluorescent lights had created shadows upon atsumu’s face, creating deep grooves and shadows upon his jaw and cheeks that perhaps you didn’t think he looked absolutely repulsive for once (even with the bandage on his broken nose).

you lift yourself from your crouched position and brushed any lingering dust off of your uniform, which at this point was a bit unkempt from the light labor you were forced to do. approaching the preoccupied setter, the rag within your hand was tossed back and forth between your left and right.

however, your eyebrows furrowed as you stopped only a few feet shy away from atsumu who should at least be sensing your presence at this point. he always had a knack of being aware of where you were and honestly you found it plain creepy. your gaze fell upon the rag in your hand, shrugging to yourself before chucking it at atsumu’s face.

the setter’s expression contorted slightly in confusion as the piece of cloth smacked him on the side of his cheek before falling onto the floor. his gaze followed the rag before turning his stare towards you.

“i’m bored,” you sighed out in a mutter with little to no emotion coating your words. 

“me too,” he replies, crouching down to pick up the rag before tossing it to you lightly. you caught it within your hands as you feign the look of surprise on your visage. you honestly expected him throw it as hard as he could, but he didn’t. “the faster we get this done the faster we get to go home–or whatever you do after school like wander around hyogo or something.”

you nod, yet curiosity stroked you. how would he know about that? gently placing one foot in front of the other, you steered closer to the boy. “and how would you know i do that everyday after school?”

it was then, you could finally feel the striking tension between the two of you. as if it was heat emanating and merging simply from the proximity you two were standing, a beat had passed again the moment you confirmed that whatever answer atsumu was going to give you would be complete and utter bullshit.

“just to make sure you were safe,” he mutters so nonchalantly. something so out of his character, especially for you would obviously be more alarming than a simple shrug and a brow raise.

your arms braided over each other, your gaze hardening by the second. “safe?” you repeat in disbelief that was accompanied with a scoff, “that’s rich, miya, anymore shitty lies you want to tell me before i could ruin that pretty face of yours again?”

a smirk had fallen on his lips as he flickered you an entertained look. “so, you think i’m pretty?”

you roll your eyes, turning your back towards him. you knew talking to him was a stupid idea and if only your teacher didn’t force you to try to make amends during detention with him, you wouldn’t have to feel your brain cells deteriorate every time you look his way. so much for taking sensei’s words into consideration into making friends with him again when your patience was being tested every five seconds. “whatever,” you scoff for the umpteenth time as you going back to your previous spot.

“the thing is, what i said just then wasn’t a lie.” he concludes while his eyes follow your figure to the other end of the aisle, “but, it’s not like you’d believe me or care for that matter.”

you’re right, i don’t. you thought to yourself, and yet you were still taken aback from the sudden ardor in his tone. it was less of atsumu’s usual bite from his arguments and more of a laceration to the skin, near rather than cutthroat despite both being some form of verbal wound. one hurt more than the other and you were sure atsumu was holding back.

“and what makes you think that?” you question.

atsumu shrugs, “nothing really groundbreaking.” he pauses as his eyes fall upon your expression of nothingness as for once he couldn’t find the right words to say. on the tip of his tongue laid words that would definitely hurt you and that hollow chest of yours, and usually he wouldn’t care just the same as you wouldn’t, yet something was stopping him.

come to think of it, this was one of the rare occasions that you and atsumu were actually alone together. nothing but the confines of the library bookshelves to obstruct you and your enemy. if anything, you and atsumu are constantly surrounded by others who are aware of your mutual resentment towards each other. hell, the only reason why your name was even as near popular as atsumu’s was because you had beef with him that was never serious in the first place. even after the numerous altercations you had since middle school with the blond boy, it was always him who provoked you.

it was almost as if you only kept up your act because that’s all you’re known for in this damn school. and you hated it.

“just the fact that you hate me is the biggest reason.” atsumu adds.

a sarcastic laugh emitted from you as you turned back towards him. you were well aware how priceless your expression looked, all muddied in disbelief and annoyance. “the feeling’s mutual.” you seethed through your teeth, stopping yourself from suddenly dumping fuel to a slow building ember. you had dirt on atsumu, but so did he and you had to be careful in order to play your cards well.

yet atsumu was already one step ahead of you, “you know hiding you emotions and feelings isn’t very healthy, is it?” he evoked. it was starting again and you knew it—from the way he inched closer to you and the way he held that godforsaken smirk on his lips again.

this guy was really asking for it wasn’t he?

a chuckle leaves your lips as you fully face him, your skin pulsated with arising anger, you couldn’t wait for miya atsumu to pull your final strings so you could finally land a punch on his face again. “it’s not like stalking someone after school is any better,” you hissed in the same venom. “i heard that shit can go on your permanent record if you were caught following someone. who knows, miya, maybe you’ll be surprised one day when you’re kicked off the volleyball team all of a sudden—”

“that’s hilarious coming from you, (y/n), you piece of—” atsumu had cut himself off in the midst of his retort, pursing his lips together as his hardened gaze suddenly dropped. “whatever,” he scoffs before turning away.

he let out a frustrated sigh as he attempted to walk back to the other end of the bookshelf so he wouldn’t have to look at your widening smile of provocation on your visage—slick with the taste of ash and synthetic amusement. it covered you in a downpour of emotions, most of which (if not all) were just synonyms of anger and acrimony. your tone was almost elated, drenched in salty irritation that couldn’t wither. you waited for him continue his words knowing damn well he could hit you with something stronger, something that can hurt more.

atsumu had to admit that he wasn’t as nearly as tough as you, though. you were someone that grew up surrounded with constant thunderstorms of a family and had a chest filled with bruising epiphanies waiting to be spewed out if anyone were to ever fuck up. it would’ve been best if he stepped himself away knowing that you both had no crowd to entertain, and yet there was an aching within you that wanted atsumu to continue whatever insult rested on his tongue.

pull that string, miya, i dare you.

“whatever?” you miffed, testing the waters you knew was tainted in tension. “no, please continue what you were about to call me, miya. i’d love to hear a new rendition.”

the setter shook his head as he couldn’t bring himself to meet the fury in your eyes any longer. “i hate how it had to be you,” he muttered under his breath.

“what was that?”

atsumu shook his head, “nothing.”

detention was flying by slower than you had hoped. 

within the first hour, you and atsumu had finished all the work assigned simply due to the fact that keeping yourselves busy on opposite sides of the library was best for both of your mental health.

two hours left of detention and boredom was dangerous for the likes of you two. now that you were both situated at the array of desks, it was common sense that some form of dispute between the two of you were bound to happened despite being separated and sitting at your own tables.

stupid atsumu, you thought. he really thought he was sly trying to sneak glances at you every five seconds like he was just waiting to get you riled up. what was his problem anyway? you thought that atsumu was the one who stopped himself from making matters worse earlier but it seems like he wanted to start something again.

you ignored him like you usually do. you were far too busy making a second pair of paper daisy chains and you needed the utmost focus cutting out each individual paper daisy to string into a faux flower crown.

atsumu had some audacity thinking he could keep throwing glances at you when you literally had a pair of scissors in your hand.

“keep staring and you’ll lose all of your piss-blond hair,” you deadpanned. you didn’t even bother to look at him as you were too preoccupied in your latest craft activity to fight your boredom.

however, it wasn’t atsumu’s fault that you were a complete enigma to him. he hated the way his friendship with you ended up like this after one big misunderstanding. sure, the first signs of your wavering friendship on the cusp of the big chasm of hatred you both created started in the middle school, but it truly formed in your first year.

granted, it wasn’t like he was wrong for worrying about you. he thought you were in danger last year when he thought you were getting involved with terrible people and simply reporting any suspicious behavior was his best way to go. the report was anonymous, but after you received the news, you were immediately suspended for a week all because of him. atsumu wasn’t going to negate the fact that perhaps it was his fault, but despite his numerous trials and errors of apologizing to you, it turned into nothing but heated arguments that led to your relationship now. all jagged and broken.

the topic has been taboo since.

atsumu’s gaze left yours, scoffing under his breath as he rolled his eyes. why did it have to be you? it wasn’t like this before, but you were all well aware how stubborn you two were.

you were an absolute wildfire that couldn’t be contained and atsumu was constantly treading over fresh embers that threatened to ignite at any form of friction. he was tired of always having to be careful around you, especially now that you broke his nose, yet he still wanted for things to be different.

“here,” your voice interrupts the tense silence as you toss him a finished paper daisy chain. it landed on his crossed arms, raising an eyebrow of confusion when he picked it up. “give that to osamu.”

atsumu was a bit perplexed to say the least, but he simply sighs to himself before gently placing the flower crown over his temples. “why osamu?” he knew damn well why, “i think it looks better on me.” he mused.

“you look hideous with it on,” you scoff, “besides it’s for your brother for a reason.”

“cause you like him better?”

“no doubt about it.”

(can you believe you liked atsumu more than osamu back in middle school?)

the setter shrugs, “too bad, you gave it to me so it’s mine now.”

“no it’s not, you don’t deserve one.” you say as you stand from your chair that screeched against the dark oak flooring of the library. you try to reach for the flower crown on atsumu’s head, but his hand snatched your wrist before you could grab it. 

atsumu’s adams apple bobbed up and down when he realized how close you were, “let. go.” your voice was hushed, yet still spat out your infamous venomous tone.

but he didn’t let go.

“aren’t you tried of it?” atsumu brings up instead.

“tired?”

“of this,” he continued before motioning to each other, “of us having to act like we hate each other everyday?”

you feigned a scoff, yet you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes to the absolute bullshit coming out of atsumu’s mouth right now. “i’m not acting.”

“well i am,” remarked atsumu before a millisecond could even pass, “i’m tired of having to act like i hate you all the time.”

it was then it seemed like something just cracked within you. lies, lies lies, everything was a lie with atsumu—from the moment he ruined your trust last year to every altercation, big or small, that happened until this point was nothing but lies. you swallowed a lump of pride, fear, and anger collecting in your throat as you let out a huff. “your lies are becoming progressively shittier, you know that right? i don’t need your sorry excuse of sincerity.”

you tugged at your wrist again, this time harder for atsumu to finally let you go, but he wasn’t budging. it wasn’t like you to admit this either, but it was starting to hurt.

“too bad i’m not lying.”

a sigh of frustration left your lips as you felt your anger suddenly swell within you. bottling up your emotions until they exploded was something you were explicitly good at and you could feel the bile rising in your throat, burning you along with words that threatened to spew out of your mouth. “what the fuck is wrong with you? you think that saying that bullshit now is going to make up everything that had ever happened between us?”

“no, I just—”

you didn’t bother to let him speak as you cut him off, “your volleyball fangirls harass me everyday for treating how i treat you, not mention i get constantly watched on like a hawk because of what you did! you made me lose my parents trust after i got suspended and i can’t even go out freely anymore! the only reason why i wander around hyogo alone after school is because that’s the only time i can have to myself since my parents think i have club activities—”

atsumu didn’t mutter a word as he waited for you to continue. he knew there was more inside you yearning to finally be verbalized and he was ready for it to come his way.

“you think i’m acting like i hate you out of pettiness, but that only proves how self-centered you are atsumu,” you huffed, not bothering to pull your wrist out of the setter’s vice-like grip anymore. “for once, i did consider finally letting this whole thing between us go and make amends, but not like this—not when you just keep fucking up and digging yourself a bigger hole.”

a few beats of silence passed between the two of you as you felt the heat rising within your slowly deplete. even atsumu’s hand on your wrist had loosened up a bit, sending a wave of relief within you knowing that you had a chance finally walk away.

“so you’re tired too?” the setter suddenly interjected.

here we go again, you thought with a dejected sigh. “can you—”

his hold around your wrist suddenly tightened again, but not as harsh as before. “answer my question.”

“no.” you pursed your lips together.

“liar.”

“atsumu, please—”

“listen, i’m really sorry about what i did.” the setter expressed, hoping the sincerity in his voice was reaching you. “what i did was fucked up, but just say the word and we can stop everything right here.”

“let go,” you muttered in between, but atsumu only continued.

“no more arguments, we could go back to how we were before or we could start over again—”

“i said let go!”

it was then atsumu’s grip left your wrist and caught your face in between his hands and leaned in.

it wasn’t like this was your first kiss, but it certainly felt like it. granted, this was the first time you kissed some you hate—or rather, someone you’re supposed to hate. you’ve kissed numerous people before, all of which were fueled with nothing but boredom and was nothing more than a simple peck. and yet, this was everything out of the ordinary. you were kissing miya atsumu for fuck’s sake and for once there wasn’t a clear instinct in your body to move away fom him.

your mind blurred so much that the confusion written all over your expression and in your head was muddied by the roaring of your heartbeat. perhaps it was the way atsumu had managed to somehow run his hand from your face and through your hair while the other gently caressed your cheek as if this was how it was supposed to be for ages. it certainly didn’t feel like some cheap thrill atsumu had devised as the way he pulled you closer to him felt like a missing puzzle piece finally being placed.

and for once, you didn’t feel absolutely disgusted when he touched you like this.

it was then when the bandage on atsumu’s healing nose tickled the bridge of yours had suddenly pulled your out of some dream-ridden euphoria. as if it was a reminder that this is what you did. the person who was supposed to be your best friend turned into your enemy after one misunderstanding. he hurt you once and that was the most he did, and yet it only made matters worse when you’ve come to the realization that all of atsumu’s quarrels with you was far less hurtful than what you ever said. they were all for the same reason and that reason was how he felt for you. the feelings had been simmering within him since middle school was finally revealing itself and you’ve been throwing it away for so long.

you didn’t deserve this type of love.

the swift beating of your heart was no longer from the burning sensation of atsumu’s lips against yours, but rather the adrenaline of every single worry tucked in the confines of your head were coming out of their shadows all at once. no matter how intoxicating a forbidden kiss like this felt, you were suffocating beneath the drowning ocean of the unspeakable.

your swollen lips, all tinted red parted slightly before biting down on atsumu’s lip.

“shit!” he suddenly exclaimed, suddenly pulling away to touch the bleeding wound on his bottom lip.

you took this chance to finally get away like you always did. and to your surprise, atsumu didn’t follow you into the labyrinthine aisles of the empty library for once. perhaps this was the one time you were glad that you and atsumu were alone in this huge room as it at least saved you from any humiliation of whatever the fuck just happened.

the inkling within your gut felt familiar, but too peculiar to fully comprehend. yet, with the blush that stretched from your cheeks to your ears still at it’s fullest opacity to the loudness your heartbeat still thumping against your chest and in your ears, it was obviously what the feeling was.

this can’t be happening.

you let out a sigh.

fifteen minutes. that’s all that’s left of the three hours of detention and after this, you were free from the confines of the library walls that suffocated you.

just fifteen more minutes before you can leave and avoid atsumu for the rest of your life. after those fifteen minutes, you would no longer give two shits about inarizaki’s setter and he could no longer confuse you anymore. and all you needed to do was wait in the most obscure corner of the library that most wouldn’t even go to.

the thing is, it was genuinely a good plan, but lately you’ve come to the conclusion that you had been underestimating atsumu for such a long time. this was one of those moments where you believed he would leave once detention was over, and yet he made sure to go through each and every aisle of bookshelves only to find you with your nose stuck in a book to keep you occupied. you didn’t even see him at first, but atsumu was glad you didn’t as he spent a good five minutes forcing himself to stop blushing just by your presence.

and to your (quite unfortunate) luck, here miya atsumu was now—approaching you in all his broken-nosed glory. it certainly didn’t help the fact that this entire time, you couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. it was the way he spoke about his feelings for you via the sparks from the sudden excursion that had your heart blossoming out of your chest even an hour after it happened

atsumu plops himself next to you, yet still leaving enough room that you wouldn’t run away from him again. his arms rest over his knees as he picked at his nails in uncertainty, as if he was treading over thin ice and a single misstep would eliminate any progress that was created between the two of you. “we’re free to go in fifteen minutes,” his voice was gentle, yet hesitance laced it to soften it a bit more as you didn’t even spare him a glance. “...just to let you know.”

there was no response from you. a simple nod was a good enough answer even though you weren’t obligated to. if anything, you feared that atsumu could hear the wavering in your voice when if you did say anything verbally. you hoped just by a simple nod would be a sign for him to get up and leave you alone in your furrowing thoughts, but he just sat there. in the deafening silence and the flipping of the pages of your book, he stayed for you.

atsumu wanted to make sure you got home safely and not do anything stupid. he knew what you were capable of especially after something out of the ordinary transpires (see: the kiss from earlier).

you had to admit that maybe you didn’t care that he was right next to you anymore. before, you would always yell at him to leave you alone or give you space, but for once his presence felt comforting to you (you wouldn’t confess that for you the life of you, though). you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the heat rising in your neck again.

(he did end up noticing)

the setter cleared his throat then, his fingers still playing with each other to spare him from the awkwardness. “are you okay?”

you huffed, “i knew you were an idiot, but i didn’t think you were this stupid.”

there it was, atsumu thought. despite the severity of your response, he couldn’t help but feel a smile creep on his lips knowing that you were at least talking to him. throughout the past year, he had come to realize that having you throw insults at him was better than not talking at all. granted, you wouldn’t even spare a single breath to someone you truly hated and not give a shit about. so if anything, you being mean to him was a sign that you think of him as something more than a stranger.

it was an odd case of stockholm syndrome, atsumu had to admit.

“is it because of the kiss earlier?” he asked, yet you didn’t utter a word. rather it was the sudden bursting of red tinted ears and burning cheeks stopped you from forming proper words. you would never get used to this feeling. “if it makes you feel any better—”

“just shut up about it,” you hissed as plunged your face deeper into your book. atsumu seeing your tomato-red face was the last thing you wanted as you shooed him away, “i don’t want to hear it.”

a chuckle left atsumu as he took the book out of your hands, loudly slapping it shut that the impact of paper hitting one another echoed throughout the library. it forced you to look at him in the eyes as he smirked at your expression. he hasn’t seen a look of embarrassment on your visage before and he found it adorable. “if the next words that come out of your mouth is to forget about the kiss ever happening, i’ll do it again and make sure you remember.”

your jaw tightened slightly as you peered your eyes at him, “fine.” you affirmed, “it did happen, but it meant nothing.”

“well, it meant something to me.” atsumu countered, not even noticing the way he leaned in closer.

it felt almost impulsive the way your emotions just crumbled before you. with the sense of betrayal between your mind and your heart had you dragged into the tide of finally giving into the guy you’re supposed to be hating. it felt criminal the way you even let your eyes flicker back down to his lips that was still a bit swollen from last time.

it just had to you, huh?

“i hate you,” you say before pulling him his tie towards you.

the kiss was slower than last time, deeper even. you were sure this was how serendipity felt like, sweet against your tongue like marmalade and soft like feathers with the way atsumu was trying to chase that euphoria when he made his way down your jaw. the ghost of his lips left trails down your neck and to your collarbone before recoiling back to your lips. you tasted like mocha and atsumu already found himself addicted to it.

“miya! (y/l/n)!” the advisor in charge of detention’s voice suddenly thundered throughout the library, forcing you two to pull away from each other. “detention ends in five minutes! the hell is this? daisy chains?” he suddenly interjects before letting out a loud scoff. “if i don’t see the rest of the trash from these tables thrown away, i’m giving you two another after school detention next week!”

a disappointed sigh emits from you as you and atsumu make your way back to the other end of the library. you hoped the exchange between the two of you wasn’t too obvious as your lips were all pink and your uniform disheveled.

the advisor gave you two a look before turning away to leave the library. humiliation struck you then and atsumu couldn’t help but laugh.

“i’ll make sure osamu gets his paper daisy chain.” the setter reassures playfully as he snatches both flower crowns from the table and hands the other to you.

your hands brush together as you take it from him, muttering, “you can have it if you want.”

“what was that?”

“nothing,” you say as you make your way towards the library’s entrance, “i said you look like a cunt.”

[hashtagdex]

ok ok angst 18 and/or fluff 11 for nurseydex?

thank you so much for these! have Both prompts!

“Leave! Me! Alone!” and “I think I’m in love with you”

-

Usually, Nursey prides him on being a chill guy, but right now he feels like he's going to lose his mind.

He skips the tenth song in the past minute, Tango's knee bumping into his under the table for the third time. It's not like it matters, though. He can hear Tango, Whiskey and Chowder's conversation about last night’s Falcs game against the Devils clear as day even through the music. 

His head is throbbing from squinting down at his notes to try and decipher them, his hand is starting to cramp up as he finishes another page, and he can’t get any damn peace.

With a sigh, he puts his pen down, takes his glasses off, and squeezes the bridge of his nose. Studying in the Haus kitchen really wasn’t his brightest idea, but people would’ve come up to him at the library to talk to him and he wouldn’t get shit done upstairs either.

All he wants is to make it up to his room, crawl under his blanket, and not come out again for the rest of the week. But he can't do that, because he has more than twice as many notes left to copy as he's already gone through.

"Woah, Nursey," Tango starts as he wrestles open a protein bar, and the noise of the struggling wrapper grates even more on Nursey's nerves, "you okay? You look really unchill right now."

Tango's knee bumps against his again. Nursey's head snaps up to look at him, scowling as he forces out, "No, Tony, I'm not fucking okay. I have about a million more pages to do, all of my music fucking sucks, and I can still hear you guys through it! And then you just keep fucking knocking into me!"

Chowder reaches out to touch his forearm. "Nursey—"

"Please just leave me alone!" 

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Tango’s expression crumbles and Nursey’s heart sinks. Chowder draws his arm back with a sigh. He knows he has no right to snap at Tango, but now the words are out there and his frustration is still running sky fucking high.

Chowder sends him a hard look as he herds the Tadpoles out of the kitchen. He’ll apologize to Tango later, once he’s calmed down, but right now he's stressed and annoyed and there’s still a never ending pile of work left for him.

He swallows the guilt that rises up, slips his glasses back on, and returns to the next page of notes.

He gets about half a page in before he feels strong hands touch and then squeeze his shoulders in a way that's grounding instead of grating.

Dex. It has to be. No one else really knows how to help him when he's overwhelmed like this.

Nursey pulls out one of his earbuds and turns to face Dex. "I really have to get this done, man."

Dex takes his hands off Nursey’s shoulders—Nursey kind of, embarrassingly, misses the pressure—and fixes him with an unimpressed look. “How long have you been studying?”

Nursey’s eyes flick over to the clock on the wall and, wow, alright. “Uh, five hours, give or take?”

When he started, the sun was still up and the kitchen was deserted. Sometime around hour two or three, Chowder, Whiskey, and Tango showed and asked if it’s fine for them to join him. He grunted out a sure, deep in the notes he took in class earlier. Now it’s dark out.

Dex shifts his weight. “And how much of it are you actually absorbing?”

“Not much,” Nursey admits, crossing his legs under the table. 

“Okay,” Dex says with a nod, “time for a break then, c’mon.”

“No, Dex,” Nursey protests, “I need to get this done.”

“Nursey, you’re stressed out,” Dex reasons, and yeah, no shit. “If you keep going now, it won’t do you any good. If anything, it’ll make you even more miserable.”

Nursey huffs. “When did you start making sense?”

Dex just sends him a small, soft smile that Nursey only ever sees when they’re alone. “I know your next exam isn’t until next week. You have time, I swear. You can finish tomorrow. Or later, at least. Self care, y’know?”

Nursey tries to say no, he really does, but in the end, he’s weak when it comes to Dex. Yeah, he’s surprised too. “Fine,” he finally relents. Dex’s smile grows and Nursey has to look away.

With a defeated sigh, he collects his stray pieces of paper, puts his pens back into his case, and lets Dex pull him out of the chair, up the stairs, and all the way into his room.

Inside, Nursey drops his stuff on his desk, then pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Do you want me to go? I can get you something for your headache or maybe a snack. I bet you haven’t eaten the whole time,” Dex asks, lingering by the door.

To his surprise, Dex has become one of the most calming presences in Nursey’s life. Dex and calming should be an oxymoron in and of itself, but here he is, craving Dex’s company. “Actually, could you stay?”

Dex’s smile returns. “Sure,” he agrees and steps back into the room as Nursey turns his attention back to his phone.

Nursey starts typing a text to Tango and out of his periphery, he notices Dex pulling something down from Nursey's bunk and settling down into his old bed.

"C’mere.”

Once he’s sent the I'm sorry for earlier, it wasn't chill of me to lash out at you like that, I’m just mad stressed right now to Tango, Nursey looks up. He finds Dex sitting against the board with a pillow behind his back, his legs spread apart, and Nursey’s comforter at the foot of the bed. "What?" Nursey asks as Dex pats the spot between his legs.

“I’m gonna help you relax, c’mon,” Dex says and pats the mattress again.

Nursey quirks up an eyebrow, but he drops his phone and glasses on his desk and makes his way over to the bed anyway. “Don’t massage my face, you’ll just clog my pores,” he warns.

Dex laughs and Nursey feels more tension drain from his shoulders. “I won’t, I promise.”

Once Nursey’s settled in, both of their legs under his comforter, Dex pulls him against his chest. “Is this okay?”

Nursey nods and leans more of his weight against Dex, pillowing his head near Dex's shoulder.

"Good," Dex says and Nursey swears he can hear the smile in his voice.

Dex takes Nursey's right hand into both of his and starts massaging it, applying just the right amount of pressure to ease the pain. Nursey allows himself to sigh and Dex begins to talk.

He launches into a story about his first time on his uncle's lobster boat, five years old and just barely taller than the traps. His voice is softer than it usually is, quiet and soothing close to Nursey's ear, as he tells Nursey about the gentle rocking of the waves. Listening to his steady heartbeat, it keeps getting harder and harder for Nursey to keep his eyes open.

Nursey lets him get halfway through the story, until Dex switches to his other hand, before he interrupts him.

"Dex?"

Dex pauses in the middle of his sentence and hums, but his hands don’t stop moving.

It gives Nursey the courage to go on. “Why are you always doing this? Helping me when I’m overwhelmed? How do you always know what to do?”

“I guess,” Dex starts quietly, it sounds like he’s hesitating, arranging his words carefully, “I guess I’ve been paying attention.”

The thing is, Nursey’s been paying attention too. He’s been paying attention to Dex frowning when he’s working at a particularly vexing project, to Dex’s hands kneading his stress into pie dough, to Dex looking so proud of the team after games and practices, to Dex’s loud laughter when Nursey or Chowder crack a joke, to Dex’s blush spreading across his whole face when Nursey winks at him.

Nursey thought he was the only one paying attention, though.

“Why?” he presses.

Dex’s hands still.

When Dex stays quiet, Nursey prods gently, “Dex.”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Dex whispers then.

“You think—”

“No, fuck that,” Dex interrupts, voice louder and more powerful, “I know I’m in love with you.”

Dex doesn’t move to leave and Nursey is grateful for it. His heart is beating in his throat, the words of I’m in love with you too on the tip of his tongue, but they’ll have to talk about this. Like, have an actual adult conversation about their feelings and what they want it to mean for the future.

Nursey also knows he’s way too tired to have it the way they really need to, so he just tangles their fingers together and makes sure Dex feels his smile as he presses a kiss to the back of his hand. After he pulls back, he squeezes it, and Dex squeezes right back.

“Tomorrow,” Nursey promises.

“Okay,” Dex agrees easily, running his thumb along Nursey’s.

“Do you have any more dumb stories?”

Dex digs out a story about a prank he pulled on his older brother when he was ten for Nursey as Nursey drifts off to sleep.

[startanewdream]

Enough nerve

Summary: “For nearly five years the thought of his father had been a source of comfort, of inspiration. Whenever someone had told him he was like James he had glowed with pride inside. And now . . . now he felt cold and miserable at the thought of him”. - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry deals with the effects of what he saw on the Pensieve - this time, with his parent's help.

Part of my Jily Lives AU because I just love the idea of Harry having time with his parents.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

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

The house is quiet. There is one more person there than usual and still the house is so quiet that James can hear the sound of his own heartbeat. It’s disconcerting, actually.

Something is wrong and he knows it. Lily knows it too; she had glanced worriedly at him before leaving hurriedly for a mission for the Order, and then they had both looked in Harry’s direction - his head was bent down, playing dismayingly with the eggs in his plate, barely whispering a bye for his mother when she waved to him.

Not hungry and quiet. That is a bad sign.

The thing about Harry is that he is usually very easy to read, especially because he always looks out for his parents when he has a problem - except if it involves doing some saving-people thing, when Harry jumps first into danger and thinks later of warning his parents. Harry never had any problem talking about things before.

He certainly said loudly and with very colourful words what was on his mind during last Summer, when James and Lily were once again involved with the Order and then they had to keep secrets from Harry. It had not been pleasant, but then again that could be Harry behaving like a teenager - a scared, traumatized, full of nightmares teenager that had dealt with things an adult wouldn't dream of, but still. Teenage rebellion phase is something they can deal with.

And when Harry had been angry, at least they knew what his problem was, but now he is… apathetic? He didn’t say anything to his parents - not even to discuss school, complain again about Umbridge or comment anything about Dumbledore leaving school. He spent all week locked in the library, saying something about studying for his OWL, only coming out for meals he wasn’t even eating and refusing to meet either parents' eyes. 

In fact, James doesn’t know why Harry even bothered to come home for the Easter Holiday, because it is evident that Harry’s mind is elsewhere, in a place where, for the first time, Harry doesn't seem to want to talk to his parents.

Except Harry usually shares with him and Lily what’s bothering him, so this new silence treatment is different. Maybe it is also part of his teenage rebellion phase? He thinks Moony had been like that - no, Remus was always the quiet one anyway, the one who least wanted to talk about his problems as if he didn't want to burden others. Maybe Harry is like that…?

The fireplace in the living room burns brightly green and he raises his head just in time to see a redhead coming out of the fireplace.

‘Oh, hi, Mr. Potter!’, Ginny says brightly and slightly out of breath. She looks windswept as if crossing fireplaces has been a challenge. ‘Sorry to burst in unannounced like that’.

‘No problem, and it’s James’, he says in a false chastening, making her grin. No matter how many times he asks, Ginny always calls him Mr. Potter, even though she has no problem calling Lily by her name. ‘What’s up?’

‘Mum forgot to send our Easter eggs, so I volunteered to bring them here, though I may have crushed them a little in the way. Your fireplace is hard to find now'.

James nods gravely. Ever since Voldemort came back, their house has been overly protected. The only magical way to enter is through the Floo Network, whose access is limited to a few houses, and owls can’t find the place. It's annoying, but if it helps keep Harry safer, he doesn't mind.

‘Also’, Ginny adds, smiling unabashedly, ‘any excuse to be away from Aunt Muriel is valid. We are at her house for the holidays and it’s been a nightmare’.

‘Oh, dear Aunt Muriel. I’ve met her once. “Thought you’ll be more handsome”, she said. “Your wife is much prettier than you”, which it's not false, but still -'

‘Unkind, I know. She always tells me that I should be taller, as if I could control it’, Ginny agrees, rolling her eyes. ‘Anyway, Ron left with Dad for a trip to the market down the village, leaving me alone, that bastard, and I grabbed the first opportunity to get five minutes off. So…’

She delivers him three boxes, and points to the biggest one.

‘That’s Harry’s, of course’, she says fondly. ‘Ron told Mum he seemed down lately, so she thought he could appreciate more chocolate’.

‘Kind of her… so Harry’s been down?’

Ginny bits her lips, suddenly unsure.

‘I don’t know. Hermione said something like that too, but it may be just the exams or -’, she stops herself, her face flushed.

‘Ginny?’, James asks quietly. ‘What's wrong?'

She raises her eyebrows and crosses her arms.

‘I think that’s Harry’s business’, she says loyally, and James wishes she had spoken in a different way.

He can argue with a lot of things, but not with someone wanting to be loyal to Harry, no matter how much he is dying to understand what’s going on with his son.

He watches Ginny more carefully now. There is a stubborn expression on her face and he knows she won’t tell him anything, but maybe her stubbornness could help Harry in some way. He remembers Harry confessing to him how he’d been confused and worried after overhearing people discussing how he might be possessed by Voldemort (that’s the thing about Harry, he does the wrong thing but he eventually tells), and how Ginny had helped him see things clearly.

Harry also told him guiltily of completely forgetting Ginny had been once possessed by Voldemort, and James thinks he understands why Harry forgot it. Ginny is so bright and lively, especially now she is not quiet around Harry, that it would be easy for Harry to forget she had been involved with dark arts when she was younger. Harry never thinks less of anyone for their worst - he only sees their best.

But maybe Ginny can tell him off again - or, as Harry put it, talk some sense into him.

‘Why don’t you deliver the Easter eggs to Harry?’, James suggests casually, returning the biggest box to her. ‘He’s in the library. He’s been there all week’.

‘Oh’, Ginny whispers, her eyes big, and he can see she understands that something is really off with Harry. ‘Like when he barely talks to anyone and just has that look like someone ate the last piece of treacle tart?'

'And he refused my invitation to fly also', James adds and they both share a grimace.

Harry had been absolutely crushed for being forbidden of playing Quidditch and the fact that he had refused any chance to fly, especially when they were allowing some time off the house (which had been mainly off-limits ever since dementors almost got him during Summer), clearly was a sign of how bad things were.

'I will just give him those Easter eggs then', Ginny says. There is a determined look on her face that almost makes James feel sorry for his son.

‘Whatever gets you out of Aunt Muriel’s way, right?’, he asks teasingly, and Ginny grins, both knowing that is not really the reason she is staying a bit longer.

She goes to the library and, when she is at the door, she turns back to him.

‘I won’t tell you anything he says’, she warns, and James nods respectfully, watching her vanish inside the library with the Easter egg in her hand.

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

If Ginny was able to tell Harry off so easily during Christmas, James expects her to help solve things with Harry quickly. Instead, she doesn't come out of the library for thirty-five minutes, all of which James keeps stealing glances to the door instead of reading the Alchemy Manual he was supposed to study.

Lily comes home in the meantime and she just blinks when he tells her what had happened.

'Hope she is luckier than us', she says, and James can hear the hurt in her voice. She is worried about Harry, and she is also sad that he isn't confiding in any of them this time.

It's a feeling James shares. How can he be there for Harry if his son doesn't want him?

'I'll take a quick shower, ok?', she adds, her hand touching his hair fondly and James can’t help but smirk at her.

‘Is that an invitation?’, he teases, making her chuckle.

‘For a quick shower? I deserve more time, you know’.

‘Oh, I know’, he agrees, pulling Lily into his lap to kiss her on the lips. He is feeling more and more inclined to offer her a long shower when the doors of the library open.

They break apart in time to see Harry and Ginny coming out, both looking serious. But James watches Harry's expression: he is frowning at his parents together as if somehow that bothers him.

'Hi, Lily', Ginny says with forced joy after there is an awkward moment of silence. 'Mum sent you Easter eggs. I'll just be going now, she is probably wondering where I am'.

'Thank Molly for us, Ginny', Lily says, raising up, her eyes going from James to Harry and back again.

'Yeah', says Harry, his voice hoarse. 'And anytime you want to escape your Aunt, you can come here'.

It's the most complete sentence James has heard Harry say all week.

Ginny smiles more naturally at him now - a smile that Harry almost returns - before waving around and vanishing in the fireplace.

There is another moment of silence, before Lily says in a voice too casual to be natural: 'I'll take a shower. Why don't you two start dinner?'

They both nod. James watches Lily go, before turning to Harry, with a forced smile.

'What do you think? Chicken pasta and salad?'

Harry shrugs, agreeing, as they go to the kitchen.

'I'm not really hungry', he says in a small voice, taking potatoes to chop without really paying attention. When James looks in his direction, thinking that Harry hasn't been hungry all week, he sees Harry is blushing faintly. 'Ginny and I ate all the Easter egg'.

'Chocolate in the library? You know you are not -'

'I know, no food in the library rule. It just happened'.

'Okay', James says slowly, taking more time than reasonable to say these two syllables. 'At least you ate something'.

His eyes meet Harry's then. This is the first time James is openly acknowledging he knows something is wrong, and this is also the first time Harry is looking at him directly with the most peculiar expression James has ever seen on his son.

He has already seen Harry’s green eyes shining with anger, desperation and hurt, but the emotion there is something new.

Disappointment.

As if James let him down somehow.

'Harry -', he begins, just as Harry starts talking too.

'There is something I need to tell you', he whispers, sounding miserable. 'I broke the mirror'.

'What mirror? The two-way mirror?'

'Yeah. About a week ago. I thought of calling you, but I was so mad that… I just broke into my hands'.

James just watches him with concern.

'We can fix later', he assures, but that still doesn't seem the reason Harry has been upset. ‘Were you hurt?’ Harry shakes his head. 'Why were you mad, Harry?'

Harry closes his fist and takes a deep breath as if gathering courage

'Because of what I saw on Snape's pensieve'.

James raises his eyebrows, but he doesn't say anything as Harry recounts exactly what memory of Snape he has seen. There is a heavy feeling on his chest that just increases with every word Harry says.

But he feels at his worst when Harry finishes his tale and he looks at James with a kind of desperation that seems to beg for an explanation, an alternative point of view of those events, any reason at all for the fact that his father was just as arrogant bullying toerag as Lily had called him then.

And he knows there isn’t.

'I wish you wouldn't judge me for what you saw, Harry', whispers James at least. 'I was young -'

'You were my age!', Harry cries, angry tears shining in his eyes.

'And still I was younger than you', James counters quietly. 'You faced too many things for a fifteen-years-old whereas… I was stupid and young and didn't think of anyone else other than myself'.

'But…', Harry blinks at him, as if even when he is upset he can't hear criticism against his father. 'You were good, I mean, you always told me how you became an animagus for Uncle Moony and how you were Head Boy -'

'It was for Remus, yes, but back then I thought of him already as part of my family. And that was my problem. Anything that was out of my own personal bubble… I didn't care. I wasn't selfless like you'.

'I am not -'

'You literally stayed behind last year during the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament because you couldn't think of leaving a young girl alone in the Black Lake'.

'I was just stupid enough to -'

'You care for others. You are so much like your mother in that'.

This compliment doesn't make Harry smile, and James understands another problem Harry had with watching that memory.

Things with Lily had been so complicated then.

'I know that doesn't excuse me, Harry, and I am not trying to defend myself. I was everything your mother complained I was back then, but only because I didn't know better. I had the perfect life. My parents loved me and always gave me anything I wanted. My friends loved me and they trusted me. I was good at school without much effort. I was amazing at Quidditch and I knew it. People admired me. I never had any concern at all'.

Harry blinks at him, and James knows his son cannot fathom how it's like to live a life without any worry.

'So I was a bit conceived, yes, I thought the world revolved around me'.

'You… you and Sirius, you both… Snape…'

'Things with Snape were always difficult’, James admits, his hand messing up his hair nervously. His relationship with Snape was one he never wanted to fully disclose to Harry, even when Harry asked him once why Snape disliked them so much. 'We hated each other from the beginning and our ways were very different. But, yeah, it was four of us and Snape was mostly alone, so he almost never won'.

'Almost?'

James hesitates.

'Snape was - and he was also young, Harry, so I try to not hold against him - he was too invested in dark things, in dark spells, in… the wrong company. And I promise you, no matter what you saw, I always hated Dark Arts, always despised those who would use it. And in the few times he managed to get the upper hand… things got ugly'.

'So he did get back to you? He wasn't just…'

'Harry', James cuts him off, hating to crush the small hope that is glistening in Harry's eyes. 'Whatever happened other times between me and Snape, I can't say it justifies what you saw. That time, that day, I jinxed him for no other reason than I was bothered and…', James takes a deep breath. 'I wanted to call your mother's attention'.

'Mum was decent', Harry says in a small voice.

'She was. She never complied with injustice'.

'Mum - she said she would never... She disliked you so much'.

'Yes'.

'How could - did you somehow - she hated you'.

'Nah, she didn't. Not really. She just thought I could be better and I did become better, Harry'.

'You told me you had asked her out and she had refused you'.

'Yeah, she did. Twice. We only started going out in our seventh year'.

'But - why?'

'Why?'

‘Why did she accept to go out with you?’

There is a sigh from behind them.

‘I think that’s better if you ask me, Harry’, Lily says softly, and James turns to see his wife.

She is fresh from her shower, her auburn wet hair falling dark over her shoulders, and as always when he sees her James' heart skips a beat. 

Their eyes meet and James can see she understands partly what has been bothering Harry all week. She approaches him, taking his hand and entwining their fingers, so they can stand side by side. Lily has a soothing presence no one else has for James and he breathes easier now.

Harry frowns, but he stays silent as he looks at Lily. James can easily read his son’s need for a sense for everything.

‘A lot of people were idiots when they were fifteen’, says Lily. James chuckles fondly.

‘You weren’t’, he says. Lily shrugs.

‘I was, just differently. I refused to see things that were in front of my nose and I thought only my opinion mattered. But I grew out of it, just as you did. Sirius grew up. Remus did too. We all did’.

‘Come on, Moony was fine’, James defends. She shakes her head.

‘He never said anything, right? I was more friendly with him than with any of you, and still he would never say a word against you. He worshipped you too much’.

‘Well - he made me and Sirius feel guilty - kind of at least, more than anyone else’. James looks back at Harry. ‘But, yeah, that stopped. Remus doesn’t have any problem saying what he feels now’.

‘Of course not’, Lily agrees. ‘People change, Harry. Sometimes for worse, sometimes for the better, and that was definitely your father’s case. Do you know how we told you we were friends before we dated?’

Harry nods, thoughtfully. Back at Christmas, when Harry had let slip something about the fact he had kissed someone, Lily had reminded him of the importance of getting to know someone better before getting into any relationship.

‘Well, things between us started rocky, but when we were in our sixth year… the world was changing and so were we. We became friends over shared concerns, shared beliefs and shared night talks. Your dad had his problems, but… his heart was always in the right place’.

When Harry looks confused, Lily grimaces as if she wishes she doesn’t have to continue this conversation too.

‘If I got it right, you saw -’

‘That day over the lake’, James says, his hand messing up his hair once more. ‘After the defense OWL’.

Lily nods gravely.

‘Well, then you know what - you heard what Snape called me’, she says in a low voice, and James wonders if Harry can hear the pain in Lily’s voice. Twenty years later and it’s clear that day still bothers her. He puts his arms around her shoulder, in comfort, and Lily throws him a grateful look. ‘Well, whatever faults your father had, he would never say what Severus… James was good. He was not prejudiced. That thing he does of seeing the best in people, no matter what - like with Remus and Sirius and…’

‘Peter’, James adds heavily when she stops herself, and now it’s Lily that is embracing him for support.

‘You helped people’, she says, looking at him with only affection on her bright green eyes. ‘And when you deflated your head a little, that became obvious. You didn’t care just for you or for those around you. You care for everyone. You cared about doing the right thing. And that’s one of the things that drew me to you’.

‘And here I thought it was my incredible ability to make you laugh’, he murmurs in a fake self-confident voice, and just as he expects, that makes Lily let out one of the amused giggles, accepting the kiss that James gives warmly on her forehead.

Lily sighs then turns to Harry, who looks at them still thoughtfully. ‘So, you see, I fell in love with your dad when that fifteen years old boy you saw had evolved into a very nice man. When he became Head Boy, I wasn’t even much surprised’.

James throws an incredulous look at her.

‘You are so lying, Evans’, he says. Lily chuckles.

‘I said "much", Potter. Come on, I saw you being all responsible the year before, helping young students and protecting people and not standing up to prejudice and bigotry. You deserved that badge', she paused before giving him a sly smile. 'It matched your eyes nicely too’.

‘I always knew you were only interested in my good looks’.

‘In how good you looked next to me, you mean?’, she teases, and James can’t help but to pull her towards him, kissing her softly on the lips.

When they break apart, Harry is avoiding looking at them, but James recognizes his embarrassment at his parents in the gesture, more than any kind of nuisance.

‘It’s safe to look now’, he tells Harry playfully, and Harry rolls his eyes at him, but he seems more at ease than James has seen him all week.

‘You love each other’, Harry says and the certainty and relief in his voice arepalpable.

‘Of course we do, Harry’, Lily says, exchanging a glance with James. ‘You know that’.

‘I just thought -’. He shakes his head. ‘Nothing. Ginny said I was being stupid, and she was right'.

'What did you talk about anyway? You stayed there for a long time'.

'She told me you were going to ask and that I should tell you it's my business', Harry replies grinning. 'But I don't mind... She just helped me remember something important. I was - afraid, I guess, of talking to you. She helped me remember anything is possible if you got enough nerve, so -'

'I am sorry, Harry', says James earnestly. 'That what you saw made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me. I just want you to know - it's important you know this - that you can always say anything to me - to us, no matter what'.

Harry nods quietly; the dark cloud that had hung over his head seems to have vanished.

'Now, what about a pizza? Since dinner hasn't even started?', Lily asks brightly, glancing at Harry. He smiles.

'From that old place in Main Street? Can we go there?'

This makes Lily's smile falters and Harry adds hurriedly: 'We can just order, no problem'.

'No, I think we will survive one night out. But take your wand with you, just in case'. Harry nods seriously. 'Go on'.

'Actually, Harry', James calls before Harry leaves, as a thought crosses his mind. 'Did Snape say anything about what you saw?'

Harry blinks at him.

'Snape wasn't happy', he says neutrally.

'Professor Snape, Harry… How is your occlumency?', asks Lily, exchanging a concerned look with James. After what happened over Christmas…

'The same. But -', Harry sighs as if he wishes he were saying anything else. 'I don't think we will continue the classes. He was really upset because of the pensieve'.

'What?', James cries just as Lily jumps.

'I will talk to him', she says. 'He can't possibly -'

'I don't mind, it is a relief actually -,

'This is really important, Harry, if -'

'Dad', Harry cuts him off, his hand going automatically to his scar as if it's bothering him. 'Can't we talk about this tomorrow? The holidays are almost over, and I was already too much a prat for most of it… can we just have a nice dinner?'

There is a pleading look on Harry’s eyes. James bits his lips, but after a second Lily nods with a small smile.

'Ok, but don't think we will forget it. Go take your wand'.

Harry smiles gratefully. Lily turns to James, touching his face softly when she sees he is frowning.

'We'll talk to Dumbledore', she says quietly when Harry is gone. 'He will intervene with Severus. Let's just have a nice dinner with our teenage son tonight, shall we?'

James sighs.

'Ok... I'm going to change then'.

When he is at the door, he turns to her with a smirk already on his lips.

'Do you know where our old school things are?'

Lily looks curiously at him.

'At the attic, I think, why?'

'Thought of using my old Head Boy badge. See if it still goes with my eyes'.

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

If you enjoyed, I have this oneshot of James and Lily finding out Harry’s a champion in the Triwizard Tournament, and Harry asking James’s help for inviting someone for the Yule Ball.

[the-l-spacer]

Summary: In which Madeleine's latest attempt to hash things out with Espresso gets a little... out of hand.

This is my first cookie run fic i. genuinely can’t believe im writing for this game now. Anyways, hope ya like it!!

- 

He sees the knight striding towards him, spotless armour clinking smartly with each step he takes, cloak billowing ever-so-slightly behind him.

His lip curls, practically a reflex.

“Espresso. Do you have a moment?” Madeleine's voice, like his appearance, is meticulously crafted to capture the attention of anyone in his vicinity. A deep, resonant baritone that carries authority, brooks no room for disagreement, least of all disagreement from a particular surly practitioner of Coffee Magic.

Or at least, that’s what Madeleine likes to think. For all his chivalrous acts and airs seem to have no effect on Espresso in the slightest, who simply sighs and rolls his dark, bespectacled eyes.

“Do me a favour; skip the pretence that participation in this conversation is optional, and get to the point. I have research that needs attending to.”

Perhaps a few months ago, Espresso’s brusque reply would have stopped Madeleine in his tracks, wiped the genial smile off his face. But as it is, they’ve spent far too much time together (unwillingly, on Espresso’s part) for the other to be fazed by mere unfriendliness. So he simply barrels on as if Espresso had never spoken. “It appears as if that young band of cookies are keen on having us join their party.”

As one, they glance over to the campsite a little ways away, where Gingerbrave and Chilli Pepper are engaged in a mock-swordfight, wielding pieces of gathered firewood, with Wizard, Strawberry and Custard cheering on. Gingerbrave rushes forward, ‘sword’ held aloft, but Chilli Pepper sidesteps his attack, and before his momentum can carry him too far, grabs the scruff of his collar, and turns him to face her. “Sloppy work, kid. I could catch that coming from a mile away. Next time, try-” She pauses mid sentence, noticing Espresso and Madeleine’s gazes. She winks, and gives a two-fingered salute. “Hey! Wanna watch me spar with a buncha kids? There’s plenty of room on that log over there, but just a little warning, I charge adult spectators.”

Madeleine waves a hand. “No need to relieve our pockets just yet, friend Chilli Pepper. Espresso and I are perfectly content watching from afar.”

“And besides, we have better things to do,” Espresso adds, “Like being corralled by a paladin into having pointless conversations.” The last bit, he aims at Madeleine, who’s response is to grin wider.

If the irony in Espresso’s statement registers to Chilli Pepper, she doesn’t show it, and simply shrugs. “Don’t let me interrupt. You boys might wanna head a little further away to have that ‘pointless conversation’ though, it’s probably gonna get noisy up in this joint.”

“An excellent idea! My humblest thanks!” Madeleine sweeps into an exaggerated bow, and takes Espresso by the elbow. “My compatriot and I shall head a little further into the woods for our chat.”

Custard perks up at that, and shouts, “Be careful! There might still be cake monsters running around, and as king, I can’t let my subjects be hurt!”

“Not to worry, we’re more than capable of defending ourselves. If our previous encounters with those beasts suggested anything...”

As Madeleine talks, Espresso discretely tries to wriggle free from the hand on his elbow, but his attempts prove futile, Madeleine’s grip is loose but firm, forming a little cage around his arm.

He lets his arm go limp, and when the grasp loosens slightly in response, he flicks his free hand, around which (unbeknownst to the jabbering knight) shadows had been gathering for quite some time.

A tendril of magic whips around and strikes Madeleine’s wrist.

“-And as Knight of the Madeleine House, I was trained since I was but a little cookie, much like your merry band, to- ah!” When the tendril connects with a small thwack, he releases Espresso, jerking away as if burned (in actuality, the magic was really just a moderately heated slap. Espresso didn’t want to do any serious damage to Madeleine, after all.)

The seemingly permanent smile on the knight’s face falters, just for a second, and Espresso allows himself a moment of schadenfreude.

“Is... is everything okay, Madeleine?” Strawberry pipes up from her spot on the log.

“Quite alright, quite alright.” The ten-carat smile is back in full force, and once again, he waves his (non-injured) hand airily, though Espresso notes with some satisfaction the displeased side glance Madeleine shoots at him.

Espresso’s face pulls into a smile of his own, falsely sweet. “Well. Shall we be off, then?” He begins walking into the woods. True, he would much rather be tucked away in some quiet corner, poring over magical scrolls, but if he has to be subjected to this... chat, at least he can try to have some fun while doing so. Make Madeleine regret initiating contact, make him trail behind for once.

And sure enough, Madeleine follows after him, making long strides to catch up.

As they retreat into the forest, Gingerbrave shouts, “Come back in time for dinner! We’re having sweet jelly stew!”

“We’ll be there,” Madeleine replies, not needing to raise his voice for it to carry across the clearing where they had set up camp.

The other cookies give their final waves, and return to sparring, the sounds of cheering and wood striking wood fading the deeper in Espresso and Madeleine travel.

- 

Eventually, the noises from the campsite fade entirely, replaced by the chirping of birds, and the soft rustling of trees. The last of the day’s light dapples through the jelly forest’s leaves, and Espresso might have called the whole scene pleasant, if not for the cookie next to him.

They come to a stop in a forest clearing. “Is this far enough for your liking, oh Knight-Commander of House Madeleine?”

Madeleine leans against a tree, the light glinting off his armour. “You know, the attitude really isn’t necessary, and neither,” he cocks his head, glossy hair spilling over one shoulder, his reprimanding smile akin to a teacher lecturing a particularly irritating student, “was the use of dark magic back there.”

Espresso smirks. “Ah. Have I discovered your weakness? Is the pride of House Madeleine scared of a little magic? I just meant for it to tickle, really.”

A scowl begins to form on Madeleine’s face, before he schools it back into careful neutrality. “You must be intelligent enough to grasp my meaning. It’s not the act itself, it’s the…” He gestures loosely in the air, his right hand still slightly red, “... the spirit of it all. Cookies who fight together shouldn’t turn on one another. It simply isn’t right.”

“Mmm. Mm hmm. Of course it isn’t.” Espresso, in a bid to minimize the dirt from the forest floor getting on his robes, opts to hover just a little above the ground, and Madeleine has to crane his neck to meet his gaze. “And I’m sure wrestling the cookie you’re supposed to be fighting with into the woods is so much more excusable.”

Madeleine bristles. “You wouldn’t have agreed to this conversation otherwise, as you’ve made so abundantly clear in the past. All I did was ensure you wouldn’t be able to weasel your way out of the inevitable yet another time.”

“What about our current situation makes you think this conversation is inevitable?” Espresso snaps. “I’ve told you time and time again I don’t care for your company. Our paths crossed once, we travelled together briefly to achieve our own goals, and parted ways. We work together acceptably, and we tolerate each other, barely. What more is there to be said between us?”

“Well, for one,” Madeleine says, standing just a bit straighter, as if to deliver a set of prepared lines, “I was telling you, before we were interrupted, that Gingerbrave and his fellows seem eager to have us as travelers alongside them.”

“Yes. And?”

“And I’m sure you are as keen as I am on accepting their offer.”

Espresso stiffens. He hates cookies who presume things about him, and more than that, he hates when those presumptions are right. After a moment, he bites out, “Even if I was, what of it.”

“We’ll be traveling together once again. Serving as their protectors, and all that.”

“So what? As I said, we’ve travelled in each other’s companies before.”

“Yes, but I believe this will be our longest journey yet. They seek answers, a way to defeat the evil forces rising, and this is no easy feat.”

“I seek no such thing,” Espresso scoffs, folding his arms. “I only know that they’re searching for the Forgotten Academy, and that particular locality has a library I’ve been meaning to peruse for a while. I plan to travel with them until that point, where we will then part ways.”

“Even then, according to my maps the Forgotten Academy is weeks away. Maybe a month. Months, if we keep up our current pace. A considerable amount of time that allows for sour dough to spoil further. I simply think it… unwise, to allow things between us two to reach such a point.” Having finally said his piece, Madeleine pushes himself off the roll cake trunk, and starts towards Espresso, open palm outstretched.

No, not again. They had done this dance before, and Espresso isn’t planning to retrace those steps. He whizzes backward, out of Madeleine’s reach.

“I’m not interested in becoming friends, knight,” he spits. “And I tire of your constant overtures.”

Madeleine’s hand returns to his side in an impatient motion. “Must you insist on being this- this difficult?” He asks, voice fraught with frustration. “It is a simple offer. Put our differences aside and work together amicably, if only to to make our journey more tolerable for us and our companions.”

“Ahhh but there’s the rub, Madeleine,” Espresso retorts, “I’m afraid our differences are too great to reconcile. If that is all you have for me, I think I’ll be returning to camp. I would say it’s been a pleasure, but… you know better.”

He makes to leave, floating quickly away to leave the knight behind, but catches a blur of movement from the corner of his eye. Before he can react, Madeline moves forward, his armour and shield glowing. With a flash, the shield comes down on the edge of Espresso’s long, dark cloak, pinning it to the forest floor.

Both of them hear the telltale sound of ripping fabric.

“Don’t move.” Madeleine warns.

Espresso’s vision goes red. He gathers the shadows to him, wreathing his clenched fists in black swirls of magic.

He doesn’t move.

A pause, then the shield lifts.

Espresso doesn’t wait to rush backward, heading straight for Madeleine. This time, it’s the knight that finds himself unprepared, as Espresso grabs him, and with the help of his magic, lifts him in the air, slamming him against the trunk of the nearest tree.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” he growls.

Their faces are close enough now that Espresso sees the tiniest twitch of fear in Madeleine’s expression. He doesn’t yield, keeping him pinned to the trunk.

Madeleine speaks, holding both hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Now, now, I admit I was rather hasty, but there really is no need for-“

“- doesn’t feel nice, does it? Being trapped against your will?” Espresso cuts him off.

“Listen. I’m sorry things had to come to that point.”

Espresso sneers. Just as he predicted, Madeleine’s ‘apology’ is anything but. His mouth forms the syllables, but like a pedestrian one accidentally jostles on the street, his ‘sorry’ is merely a formality, said to hear the sound of his own voice.

Espresso doesn’t buy it, is what he’s saying.

“Save it. Save your pithy little apologies and insincere attempts at friendship for some other cookie.”

Madeleine’s face twists in indignation. “I’m not being insincere!”

Espresso drops him unceremoniously, the knight’s armour clattering when he lands on the soft earth. He tries not to betray his own fatigue, both in mind and body. Madeleine is heavy after all, weighed down further by his armour and weapons, making the act of holding him aloft (even aided by magic) one that had taken a not-insignificant toll on him. His feet touch down lightly on the ground, the glowing aura around him fades.

“Oh, spare me,” Espresso says coldly. “Every action, every toss of your hair or flick of your cloak, every word that comes out of your mouth betrays your insincerity.”

Having gathered himself, Madeleine finally snaps, drawing his sword from its scabbard with a metallic hiss. “How dare you.” His voice, a dangerous murmur, grows louder and louder, until it carries to the treetops. “I don’t know what I have done to offend you so. I attempted to be friendly, and reach out with offers of peace, as my family taught me to do for years, but you insist on rebuffing me, sullying my good name with your.. your insolence!”

The sword is pointed at Espresso’s throat, now, and the magician takes a careful step backward, keeping an eye on the gleaming blade. Madeleine doesn’t seem to notice, however, as he barks, “I’ve been lenient in the past, but as a cookie of honour, I can’t let such words continue to slide. The Divine, protect me!”

Celestial light bathes the forest clearing, surrounding Madeleine in its radiance. He lunges forward and swings his sword, a ray of light arcing from its blade. Espresso, caught unawares, finds himself knocked back, sent stumbling to catch his footing.

He regains his balance, clutching on to a tree branch, and counters the next light ray with an explosion of coffee beans that makes Madeleine's attack fizzle out.

“You know I’m right about you,” Espresso taunts, “in fact, we both know this is all a little charade you put on, because-” he plants his feet firmly in the ground, bracing himself against a third wave of light magic. “- beneath all your bravado, your shiny armour and fancy new weapons, you are empty.”

“That’s not true!” Madeleine roars, attempting to close the distance between them. But Espresso splays his hands, and a swirling vortex forms, pulling the paladin backward and into its dark center. Madeleine staggers in pain.

“You’re just a selfish glory-seeker, as slow and soulless as the monsters that- gah!”

Dexterity had never been his strong suit, so when Madeleine’s retaliating attack comes, he doesn’t dodge quickly enough. He sees the sword swing, feels an impact across his face, before his world goes blurry.

His glasses!

A lance of panic spikes through his chest.

He can’t see. He can’t see and he can’t look for his glasses either because if he steps on them that’s it. And Madeleine will win or worse he’ll just leave him here, in the middle of the woods.

The attacks stop coming.

The forest is silent once more, but for the two cookies’ heavy breathing.

Then, Espresso hears the crunching of leaves, sees the blurry shape of Madeleine stride towards him. He readies his magic. Madeleine passes him, and bends down over a spot Espresso can’t quite see.

A familiar metallic object is pressed into his hand.

“Your glasses.”

In a flash, Espresso has them on again, and exhales in relief when the forest comes back into focus.

“I never meant to knock them over. I’m sorry.”

Espresso is about to respond, but Madeleine says, “We should not have let our discussion escalate like this.”

“I’m sorry. We?!” Espresso’s recently restored vision colours. “When it was you who dealt the first blow? You, who initiated this discussion in the first place, who-” He trails off, righteous indignation fading slightly when he sees Madeleine, who stands at arm’s length away from him, both hands resting on the pommel of his sword, his expression unreadable.

“..Yes. Fine. As allies, we shouldn’t have turned on each other like this.”

Madeleine says nothing, so Espresso continues. “But as our previous attempts at civility have shown, you are incapable of holding a conversation without trying to domineer over me, push me into situations I do not want to be in. And I… I admit that I went too far in my personal assessments of you, but the fact remains that I simply cannot work with you beyond what we already are. Allies, and nothing more.”

For the second time, Espresso begins walking back to camp. Madeleine makes no attempt to stop him. “Thank you for retrieving my glasses. Good evening.”

Before he can fully retreat into the copse of trees, he hears Madeleine’s voice, saying, “Wait.”

Espresso pauses for a moment, and continues walking.

“Wait. Please.”

The word ‘please’ sounds so strange on Madeleine’s lips, and Espresso realises he can’t recall if the cookie had ever said the word in all the time they had worked together.

He turns his head.

Madeleine is leaned against a tree, arms folded and a foot kicked up against the trunk. His face is hidden by a curtain of hair.

“You are from The Republic, yes?”

Thrown by the sudden question, Espresso says, “Yes. The both of us are.”

“You’re aware that The Republic is a peaceful nation. No conflict within its gates, no monsters to be found without.”

Where is this going? Espresso responds, “Safe, sterile, and utterly boring. I’m aware.”

“Then what,” Madeleine turns his face away from Espresso, addressing the trees, “what use do you think such a nation has for soldiers? For knights?”

Oh.

Madeleine laughs, not his usual hearty guffaw, filled to the brim with bravado, but a short and bitter exhalation. “Do you know what it’s like to be, as you called me, the ‘slow’ one, in a family of scholars and politicians? For your only prowess to be your physical strength, in a place where that skill is entirely unnecessary?”

“But the knight order you lead-”

“- is purely for show. Just cookies dressed up in shiny armour to remind the other kingdoms we’re not to be trifled with. None of them have actually seen a day of real combat outside of sparring.”

Espresso is back in the clearing, picking a position next to Madeleine so he doesn’t see his sympathetic expression.

“Then… the reason you and all the knights were sent out?”

“As I said, my mission was to seek the legendary Soul Jam that is supposed to grant us cookies eternal life. Not that anyone in the Republic really expects us to find it.”

“They wanted to get rid of you, then.”

Madeleine visibly flinches at Espresso’s words. “I wouldn’t put it so bluntly, but… yes. I’m welcome back home, of course. If I were to return, I’d be met with trumpets and fanfare, but not much else, and certainly not anything approaching respect from those who truly matter.” The knight clenches his fist. “This quest is to be my saving grace. My only purpose, and the only way one like me can conceivably bring pride to House Madeleine. The only way I can be of use”

Espresso regards Madeleine, the revelation casting the cookie in a new light.

“So.. yes, Espresso. I am a selfish glory-seeker. Perhaps I have no other choice but to be.” Madeleine’s previously ramrod-straight posture is gone, and in its place his fists are clenched, shoulders hunched inwards, his hair tumbling forward, shielding his face from view.

And a small part of Espresso feels the strangest urge to push that hair back, to place a comforting hand on the paladin’s shoulder. Anything to stop what has to be the strongest — the most annoying, surely, but the strongest nevertheless — cookie he knows from curling into himself, from hurting like this.

But he holds himself back. All he lets out is a soft, “I think I know how you feel. Not entirely, but some of it.”

Madeleine turns to look at Espresso, a blank expression on his face. “You do.”

The mage lets a spark of magic fly from his hand - a single, glowing coffee bean surrounded by dark shadow. “You have called what I do ‘black magic’ in the past.”

Madeleine, suddenly stricken, says, “I wouldn’t go so far as to call it ‘black magic’, but-”

“- Listen. You have, countless times. And it annoys me to no end, but I understand why. It does look like it, no?” He conjures more coffee beans, letting them spin in circles around him. “I’ve had this ability since I was a child. It did not come from dark origins, I did not make a pact with evil forces to obtain it, as some have believed. It simply was. My magic, like your physical strength, is a part of me.”

Madeleine simply nods.

“But people don’t understand Coffee Magic. Whenever I demonstrated my abilities, I’d be shunned, the respectable citizens of our beloved Republic saying that I was a child of Dark Enchantress Cookie.”

“Espresso…” His magic fizzles out, and now, it is his turn to look away, incapable of facing the pity that is surely in Madeleine’s gaze.

“I was barred from every magic school. I had to learn, and practice, and make it on my own. If I didn’t have Latte Cookie, I don’t know how I would have-” Espresso shakes his head. “No matter. All I am saying is that I do know how it feels, not to belong. To have to carve a place for yourself among people who can’t respect you.”

A hand settles on his shoulder, and Espresso almost flinches. He looks up, and his gaze meets Madeleine’s, earnest and apologetic. “Espresso, first and foremost, I am sorry that I ripped your cloak in trying to keep you here.”

Espresso’s eyes travel to his torn (and expensive) wizard’s cloak. “It’s fine. I’ll just have to get it repaired once we return to camp.”

Madeleine continues. “And I’m sorry, truly sorry that I misjudged you based on your magic. That I pushed when I should have respected your wishes. Respected you.”

And this time, Espresso believes Madeleine’s words. He lets his own hand creep upwards to rest over the knight’s.

He sighs. “And I apologise, too. I made undue assumptions about you, and let these assumptions colour my actions. I treated you poorly, and for that, I’m sorry.”

When their eyes meet again, it is as if the forest goes silent, nature’s rustle and hum being forgotten as the two look at each other, and for the first time, understand.

Of course, no moment can truly last, and it is Espresso who breaks the spell, gently moving Madeleine’s hand off his shoulder. “Naturally, don’t think this means I’ll let you strongarm me into doing whatever you want me to. You still irritate me. Incessantly.”

Madeleine chuckles. “Naturally. Besides, I do not imagine such actions will be necessary in the future. I think we understand each other perfectly clearly, now.”

Espresso lets a grin creep across his face. Rolling his eyes, he says, “Don’t assume you know everything based on a tidbit of my past. I encompass multitudes, Knight-Commander.”

“In turn, I request that you not write me off just yet,” Madeleine responds teasingly. “I may not know everything about you, but I would be very interested to,”

Both their eyes widen, Madeleine realising the forwardness of his statement. “That is. I will give you the space you need, certainly, but if you ever feel like-”

“- Wait. Stop.” Espresso takes a breath, lets it out. “I- I do feel the same way. You’re a good fighter, and I did not let myself give you a fair chance.”

He crosses the short distance between them, and extends a hand. “I’m Espresso Cookie of The Republic. Founder of the Coffee Magic School. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Madeleine regards the outstretched hand in wonder.

"... Don't make a big deal of it, knight."

He puffs out his chest, taking Espresso’s hand. “And I’m Madeleine Cookie of The Republic. Servant of The Divine, Knight Comm-” He stops himself, clears his throat. Then, he smiles and simply says, “I’m Madeleine Cookie. It’s an honour to get to know you.”

[eury--dice]

screws fall out all the time

for @theresagoodchanceicouldfly in the @sincerely-us gift exchange! so sorry it’s late, but happy belated holidehs! 

ao3 link in notes 

Zoe Murphy has never once in her life been late to something.

It started with her mother; years ago, before she had fully grasped the concept of shame, she’d felt it only through her mother and the Murphy pride she radiated. She was a people pleaser from the earliest day she could remember, and there was no one she would rather please than her parents. One of her earliest memories was her mother, wrangling her and Connor into their car seats an hour before their ballet lessons began, saying _ “being on time is the highest sign of respect, Connor” _ while her older brother protested. When she was allowed to walk on her own to school or to meet with friends, rather than having to drag Connor along with her, she arrived no fewer than five minutes early to everything, and once she got a driver’s license and a shiny new Honda to go with it, that number dropped to 10.

All that said and done, Zoe Murphy had been 10 minutes late to her second period biology class on Wednesday. Perhaps more importantly, she had missed the entirety of her first period Women in Lit course. (As for why, well, that’s barely her story to tell). Much as she protested to Mr. Howard and her sympathetic teachers that it was a first offense, she received one too many pitying looks and a “We’re sorry, Zoe, but this is _ school policy.”_

So, never one to be late (Wednesday first and second period excluded), she walks through the school doors at 6:45 am, blinking sleep from her eyes. She shakes off the worried thought that she shouldn’t have been so tired, given she drove over, but ignores the ensuing spike of anxiety and makes her way to the library, instead.

Zoe doesn’t know what she’s expecting to find on the other side of the door, but it’s not six individual library tables lined up like desks and one of them already occupied by a figure that appears to be asleep.

Her steps land on the carpeted floor of the library quietly, and it takes her a moment to realize that she’s making them that way, stepping purposefully and silently to not disturb the figure a few desks away, and she realizes a second after that that she’d done the same with the door, holding it and letting it shut near-silently behind her.

Funny to slip away again, isn’t it?

It takes her a minute, but she realizes as she approaches that the person isn’t asleep, merely looking intently at a screen and tapping absentmindedly at his own thigh. She slides into the desk a row across from him, and he startles as he catches her movement out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re quiet,” he blurts, but it’s not accusatory at all, nor does it seem like a too-obvious statement.

“I try to be.”

“You - you excel, actually.” He reaches one hand to his heart, massaging over it a bit, and she forces herself not to stare at the rhythm of it.

She scrunches her nose. “How are you pulling out words like excel at this hour of the morning?”

He drops his phone to the table, but doesn’t stop his heart massaging routine. His eyes dart around her, to the shoulder-high shelves of scholastic-edition books, attempts to diversify the fiction section through the young adult genre, and hefty textbooks that everyone claims to use but ends up googling anyway. “It’s literally a microsoft program?”

She slumps back in her chair, letting her eyes fall shut. “Touché. Sorry if I’m not a morning person.”

“It seems better that way. I, I’m Evan-”

“-Hansen, I know,” she finishes, and opens her eyes just in time to see his pupils dilate enough to engulf the deep brown of his irises. “You’re in my Women in Lit class.”

“Right. Of course,” he says, almost a murmur. His hands drop below the table, and she imagines he must be worrying the fringe of his shirt or pulling at a loose thread. “Ms. Samuels asked me to send you notes on our discussion for Wednesday, actually-” if only he could hear how her heart sinks at his words – “but, um, I’m still locked out of, I’m still locked out of my school email for some reason and the only platform we’re friends on is Snapchat, and I was worried it would be, would be weird? For me to, well, send my notes, uh, unsolicited if you will–”

He cuts himself off, his cheeks darkening, eyes anywhere in the room but on her face, and Zoe can’t help but laugh. “No worries. I think I can do without Rox’s interpretations repeated over and over for 45 minutes.”

“Oh god, _ yeah,” _ Evan breathes. “You didn’t miss a thing. Well, except-” he pauses, takes a moment as his brain catches up to his mouth. _ “Oh. _ That’s why you’re here.”

Zoe smiles tightly, and her teeth feel too dry. “Guilty.” She clears her throat, and all at once she itches for the neck of her guitar, but it’s almost seven in the morning and she’s in the school library for detention. “I’m Zoe, but, well, you knew my name for notes, so.”

“Yeah. The, uh, passionate declaration about how sharks are slandered in the media as an icebreaker made an impression, I guess. Plus three years in school together?”

“Okay, look, in my defense, my dad made me watch Sharknado with him the night before classes started and-”

A slight _ bang _ noise reverberates down the hall, and Zoe and Evan pause in their seats to listen for more. Zoe strains her ears to the point where she can hear each tick of the clock, _ tick tick tick tick, _ until the rhythm is broken by the door opening once again.

“Hello!” Alana calls into the library – softly, of course, because if anyone were to respect the rules of the library above all else it would be Alana Beck – while toting a large backpack on her shoulders that makes Zoe wince just looking at it. She drops it to the ground with a thud and slides into the table behind Zoe. “How are you guys doing this morning? I wasn’t able to get any coffee after I left dance this morning, so I’m worried I’m going to have a caffeine headache later, actually.”

“You’ve already done something this morning?” Zoe asks incredulously, darting her eyes over to Evan to gauge his reaction.

“Yeah! Dance goes from 5 to 8, so I had to leave early for this, which is-” for the first time, Alana trips over her words, “not ideal. And I had to reschedule my tutoring. Hopefully I’ll be out in time for volunteering this afternoon, though.”

“Damn,” Zoe says after a moment’s pause. “I thought I was doing well just driving in at this point.”

“Well, I just got a ride from my mom, so.”

“That’s probably better for the environment. Sharing one car across a family is wildly better than owning more than one, but suburbs make that more difficult.”

Evan nods stiffly, shoulders creeping up towards his ears as he slumps further in his chair. “That’s good, I guess.”

The three sit in a stilted silence, that _ tick tick tick _ back and pounding against Zoe’s ears, until Alana says “Hey, Connor!” in her same library-friendly voice and, damn, there’s her brother, seated at the furthest-back table, across from Alana. Like brother like sister, apparently, given the fact that she hadn’t heard him enter.

To her surprise, Connor deigns Alana with a half-smile and a “hey.”

She hadn’t even known that he had detention. That shouldn’t bother her as much as it does, but she’s not going to waste energy worrying about how he got to school.

“You’re on time,” is all she says – all she needs to say, really, because hundreds of mornings of them screaming through his bedroom door as he refuses to leave in time for school speak for themselves – cocking an eyebrow, that deep-seeded need to challenge him rising in her.

“How fucking astute-” Connor begins, but is cut off barely a moment later by the librarian’s office door opening. All four startle, since no one had been visible through the glass pane on the door, but rather than a librarian Zoe sees their principal, sheets of paper in one hand and a piece of chalk in the other.

“If we could mind the language please, Connor,” Mr. Howard says, a smirk settling at the corners of his eyes, and Zoe feels her own challenging expression leave her face. She knows what someone looks like when they want to rile up her brother, and, well. That face has riling up written all over it. “If you’ll kindly remember why you’re here?”

Connor stares into the eyes of Mr. Howard for a moment. Zoe sees something in them clench just as a muscle in his jaw jumps and he breaks eye contact.

“Wonderful. Good morning, students.”

A brief silence falls over the group, but Alana, after a beat, says “Good morning, Mr. Howard.” Evan mumbles after her, but Zoe and Connor stay silent. Zoe tries to will herself to follow Alana, but the words stick in her throat.

“A rousing welcome,” Mr. Howard says, as though his sarcasm will endear four teenagers to him. “Now, if we can get started with you five’s five-hour detention-”

Mr. Howard pauses, then his neck snaps up, facing in the direction of the four. He counts, and Zoe can see his lips move along with the counting. “Where’s Jared?”

When he receives no response, he scoffs and reaches down to his phone. “I’ll check if he emailed, I suppose.” The unspoken _ if he didn’t _ lingers in the air; Zoe’s never had detention, so she doesn’t know what would become of him.

Before she can find out, the door swings open one last time, revealing the flannel-and-graphic-tee-clad Jared striding through the stacks without a care i. the world, a breakfast sandwich clenched in his hand.

“Uh, Jared?” Alana starts.

Mr. Howard cuts her off. “No eating in the library, Jared.”

Jared stops in his tracks. “Dammit. I knew I forgot something.” He shrugs his backpack off of his shoulder. “No exceptions for students who had to drop off two little siblings at a coding workshop this morning and had no chance to eat?”

“You’re already late. The sandwich goes in a trash can or you’re here until 4.”

He raises his hands in surrender, backing up without blooming until his hand is over the nearest trash can and he can unfurl his fingers and let the sandwich drop. “Fine,” he mutters, then hurries to the final seat.

“Now that the circus has died down,” Mr. Howard says, shaking his head, “it’s time to begin for the day. You’re to complete this assignment completely, no breaks, just the opportunity to think and reflect and create something redeeming.”

Zoe can’t help but turn her head slightly to lock eyes with Connor; she can see, from his expression that mirrors hers, that their principal sounds more like a youth pastor of their childhood than an adult in charge of their well-being.

“Your assignment: write a one-page letter to yourself. By hand. Write it well. Write it clearly. Yes, it’s to apologize for what you did, but go deeper than that, hm? Get to the…root of the issue, let’s say.”

No one reacts as Mr. Howard shuffles lined paper in his hands. Evan coughs, and Jared scuffs his sneaker against the carpet, but Mr. Howard is left with no visible physical change.

“Well. If you’re all so eager to start…” He takes his time passing out individual sheets and freshly sharpened number 2 pencils, insisting no one use their own materials. “You have until noon.”

With that, Mr. Howard strides down the rows of desks and away from the library, leaving silence and the _ tick-tick-ticks _ of the clock to fill Zoe’s ears.

She stares at the paper in front of her long after the _ click _ of the door lands softly in the well-padded library. She can hear Evan’s ragged breathing from across the aisle, Alana’s scratching pencil and corresponding blunt eraser noises, the slight rumble of Jared’s stomach.

“Can’t you _ eat _ something?” Connor snaps. Zoe startles in her seat; she hadn’t expected to hear Connor’s voice.

“I don’t know if you have eyes, but he made me throw my food away?”

“You’ve always got a thousand snacks Spanish,” Evan says quietly. Zoe cuts a glance over to him; he rubs a pencil between his thumb and forefinger uncomfortably, not looking up from his page.

_ “You _ should know, Evan, I don’t have all my shit on the weekends!”

“Well, you normally do!”

“Can you all be _ quiet?” _ Alana says, with a student council flair behind it. Everyone else instinctively shuts their mouths and fixes their eyes at their papers. “None of us want to be here. It’s not worth fighting over, really. Let’s just get these done and hopefully Howard will recognize that we’ve learned.”

Her plea works for a minute, before Jared mutters “I don’t think any of us have learned anything, _ Connor.” _

“Oh my God, knock it off,” Zoe says, turning sharply in her seat. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“It’s _ fine,” _ Evan says almost desperately, looking between Zoe and Jared and Connor.

“I’d be surprised if you’ve done anything—”

“Okay,” Alana says, dropping her backpack on the table to make a huge _ thud _ noise. “That’s enough. We’re spreading out. Jared, watch the door for him.”

“Fine,” Jared says, and though he barely moves his tone conveys he’d like to be throwing his hands in the air dramatically. Instead he stands and turns towards the front of the library, cutting a scathing glance at Connor. “Enjoy your fucking…alone time.”

So they scatter like some sort of puzzle, spreading out across the library and claiming swaths of it. Zoe nestles in a little nook between two shelves, fishing out a pair of headphones and shuffling her liked songs on spotify before holding the blank paper in her hands and staring at it like it’s her life source. Alana’s staked out the floor space, pens lined up one-by-one on the carpet below her, tidy even in her chaos. Connor is, characteristically, scrunched under a table with his paper nowhere in sight, but she’s so used to him crawling under desks and tables at home that she barely blinks. And Evan is closest to her, actually, his back against a shelf like one might sit at the base of a tree, and unlike everyone else, his page rapidly fills with his scrawled writing.

Maybe a minute passes; maybe it’s an hour, two. The _ tick tick ticks _ continue, until Jared straightens up all at once. “Howard’s coming around the corner.”

All of a sudden, the library is a burst of movement as everyone hurries back to their desks. Evan almost trips over the leg of a chair, and Jared thuds too loudly into his own seat. Alana somehow transports her spread of papers from the floor to her desk fluidly. Zoe drops her head over her paper, her heart pounding.

“I thought I heard movement,” Mr Howard calls, his voice carrying strangely through the library. The door clicks loudly behind him. “Everything going well in here?”

Everyone nods mutely. Alana says “Yes, Mr Howard” when everyone else fails to do more.

“Really?” Zoe hears his footsteps down the aisle, the crinkle of a page, Connor inhaling sharply. “Let’s see, hm?”

Mr. Howard reaches the front of the desks, surveying the five students in front of him. A smile picks up on his face, and he holds Connor’s paper aloft. “Dear Connor Murphy, How are you? I already know you’re shit, because I am you. But not as much of a shit as the bastard in charge.” His smile falters. “Well. Wonderful start, Connor. I’d be happy to speak to you tomorrow as well.”

“Mr. Howard, he’s still working,” Alana says.

“That’s _ private—” _ Zoe says at the same time.

Zoe hears Jared’s paper crunch. “Why the _ fuck _ would you just take—”

“All right,” Mr. Howard says, raising his hands. “Take this as a message, then. This is an assignment like any other. Take it seriously, now.”

A shiver runs down Zoe’s spine, and it takes everything in her not to shout. She bites her lip instead.

Long after Mr. Howard has left, the five sit in silence, letting their bad moods stew. Zoe glances over at Connor, who glares back with his identical eyes; as always, it feels like looking into a mirror.

Without breaking eye contact, Connor pulls a baggie out from his jacket, and Zoe looks away, upsetness brewing in her stomach.

The sound of him rolling a joint is too familiar, but she doesn’t have the energy to stop him.

“Connor?” Alana says quietly from behind Zoe. She’s met with the sound of a match.

“Jesus Christ, Connor,” she mutters. “In the library?”

“Fuck you,” he responds, equally as quiet, but it’s without malice.

“Fuck you.”

“That smell’s never going to leave, Connor,” Evan says.

“Then let’s hope Mr. Howard is noseblind today.”

She hears Connor slide out of his seat and under the table; a moment later, she hears someone that sounds like Jared do the same. “Pass it here,” he says, and Connor must comply, as Jared splutters a moment later. Zoe wrinkles her nose as the smell of weed fills her nose. Without thinking, she slides to sit under her own desk, too, Evan and Alana following her lead a moment later.

Connor offers her the joint, and she just glares at him.

“Hey, Connor?” Alana says. Zoe glances at her, appraises her perfect dancer’s posture and comfortably crossed legs, and immediately feels self-conscious about her own position. “Want to talk about that letter?”

“No.”

“We’re stuck here until noon.”

“Still no.”

“C’mon, Con,” Jared pouts, receiving no reaction.

“Leave it off, Jared,” Alana says, but her focus never leaves Connor, her eyes appraising his face.

Zoe scuffs her converse on the ground. “Not like you owe us, or anything.”

“What was that, Zoe?” Connor asks, his eyes suddenly darting to her, but she refuses to raise her eyes from her doodled-on shoes. Alana tosses her a colored pen, which she begins using immediately, crossing a few new stars.

“Aw, Murphys, don’t leave us out of your fun.”

Zoe scoffs. _ “Fun.” _

Connor takes another drag, blows it in her direction. “My sister’s upset she got this detention because she has to deal with my fuckups Wednesday morning.”

“I’m _ upset _ that cutting class isn’t even why you’re in detention.”

“Aw, Zo’, no you’re not. You care about me, deep down.”

“And _ you _ don’t.”

Connor smiles. “Is negative caring still caring?”

_ “No?” _

Alana looks between the two of them. “What…happened?”

Zoe stares at him, and for as much as she’s already challenged him, something in her wants to beg him not to say. But, always contrary, Connor says with a sigh and a shrug, “Locked myself in the bathroom when both the parents were out of the house and I thought Zoe was gone already. She kicked the door down, somehow.”

The reminder makes Zoe’s already sore foot hurt, and she shifts where she’s sat. “You shouldn’t have gone to school. You shouldn’t even be here.”

_ “You _ shouldn’t, either. Fucking martyr.”

“Martyr? If anyone’s the martyr, it’s you—”

“Stop,” Jared says. Zoe glances at him, moving her head to view him behind a table leg. The expression on his face is open, horrified.

Zoe looks from him, to Evan, to Alana, both with purposefully stilled and stilted faces.

“Shit,” Alana says, and Zoe almost startles at her profanity. “Do you need to talk?”

“I _ need,” _ Connor says, “to get out of here.”

“Stop cursing out teachers, then,” Zoe says, unable to bite her tongue before she does.

Evan disparages her with a “Zoe,” something in his face shifting, but Connor smiles at her for the first time all day.

“Next time I try to off myself and come to school instead I’ll take it under advisement.”

The five of them sit with that, perhaps for a moment too long. “I just had a panic attack and made my Neuroscience teacher nervous, if it makes you feel better.”

Zoe frowns. “You got detention for that?”

“That’s bullshit,” Jared says, eyes still on Connor’s face.

“And ironic. Neuroscience,” Connor adds quietly.

Evan shrugs. “Could be worse.”

“I had a flare gun in my locker,” Jared blurts.

Alana blinks at him. “I’m sorry?”

“A flare gun? It was for my film project.”

“Did you learn _ nothing _ from Brian Johnson?” Evan says.

“You _ know _ I fell asleep during that movie!”

Connor’s eyes move from Zoe to Alana. “And you?”

Alana shifts in her sitting position. “I may have had a disagreement with one of the student council members.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Zoe says, in an attempt to calm her.

“She pulled the fire alarm and blamed me.”

“So that’s what happened during lunch yesterday!” Jared snaps his fingers. “Sure it wasn’t you?”

_ “Yes.” _

“Jesus, okay.”

Connor slides out from under the table in one smooth movement. “As fascinating as your petty crimes are, I’m done here, I think. I need some air.”

“Good idea, actually,” Alana says.

Zoe blinks. “What? That’s not…breaking a rule?”

_ “Clearly _ Mr. Howard doesn’t care about us. I don’t care about following his rules.”

The five stand up and scatter across the library, finding all manner of exits and shaking dust from their clothes.

“C’mon, Zo,” Connor calls behind his shoulder after her. He turns, a smirk crossing his face, and for a moment he looks just like he did when they were seven and sneaking out to the patio to look at the stars. “Don’t you want to break the rules one time?”

He’s racing down a side hall out of the library, tracing Jared’s footsteps, before she can even respond. But she wants to shout back _ I’d love to, but how the fuck do you think I got here? How many times do you think I’ve tried? You’re the only one who’s ever won at that game, and all I ever do it get hurt. _

Connor is gone. She blinks, once, twice, and some voice in her head says _ fuck it. _

She’s silent leaving through the main door, of course. It’s a freedom she never indulges in at home, the worry of what could be waiting for her when she returns swallowing the thrill of knowing she could get out at any time. It makes her more suited for leaving through there than any of the other four, at least. And there’s…a thrill to it, for sure. A new feeling. She’s supposed to be somewhere, but she’s not, and that newness swells inside of her.

And—

Oh. She _ hates _ the feeling, actually.

It’s so empty, everywhere she goes. Her footsteps echo, and she knows she can’t just dissapear like she normally does. She has to stake out space on this waxed linoleum floor, own it like she wants to be here, wants to be this version of herself.

She doesn’t. Not really. But she’s always been good at digging down and finding confidence where she had none, just like the Murphy’s had taught her.

Out of habit, she ducks into the music room where jazz band meets when she grows paranoid and could swear she hears footsteps around the corner. She lets the door close silently behind her like she had earlier, in the library, and rests her back against it with her eyes closed so all she can feel is the cold metal door behind her and the pound of her pulse in her neck. But no noises come from down the hall, not even those of her fellow detained students.

Zoe opens her eyes, and across from her she sees Evan do the same.

They startle at the same time, Zoe jolting uncomfortably against the door and making it rattle slightly in its frame, Evan bumping a plastic stool and making it clatter. His hands are moving already, tapping at his heart. A yelp escapes his lips, and Zoe hurries to move a finger to her mouth in a desparate bid to silence him.

“Why are you — you’re fucking _ silent—” _

“So are you!” She accuses. “I didn’t even see you here.”

Evan’s eyes catch on hers, and for a second she sees every sleepless line under his lids, every lash straining to meet the skin of his face, every tiny sworl of lighter brown in his eyes that seem, at times, to be swallowed by his pupils. But a second later he breaks away, and only mutters “fucking invisibility.”

He meanders around the room, seemingly without volition, and he trails his fingers across tables before he stops in front of a small pile in the corner of the room. Beneath the excessive, saturated posters lining the music room lies a few spare instruments abandoned by negligent students over many, many years. Zoe knows it only as the Shame Pile, something jazz band members are forced to use when they forget their instruments at home; if they’re lucky, their instrument is available and they aren’t subject to the horrors of pretending to play an invisible instrument, as their director loves to do.

She’s never so much as touched the Shame Ghitar, but Evan reaches directly towards it.

“Do you know how to play?” she asks, feeling her face scrunch up. Her fingers tap against the door in a syncopated rhythm; the room suddenly feels devoid of air.

“No,” Evan admits, but still he lifts the guitar up by its neck and holds it awkwardly braced against the floor, making Zoe flinch and start towards him.

“Yeah, no, I see, don’t — don’t hold it like that.”

“Oh, shit, s-sorry?” He says, lifting it up at once. Zoe falls back against the door. “I guess it’s obvious.”

“I mean, I guess it’s not. The most intuitive. But it just had to do with the pressure on the neck — it’s fine, really.” She pauses, giving Shame Guitar one last look over. Evan holds it delicately between his fingers even though his first foray was unintentionally aggressive, and the look on his face as he regards it stirs something low in her stomach. He looks almost _ longing. _

“Give it here,” she says, one hand already outstretched. Evan hands it over without a moment’s thought, and she pulls a plastic stool over to plant her foot on. Resting the guitar on her knee, she starts the painfully slow process of tuning the rarely-used, oft-abused guitar.

“You can do that by ear?” Evan asks, and when she cuts a glance at his face she has to look away and clear her throat, startled by how little his expression had changed from the guitar to her.

“Yeah. I try, at least.”

Once she’s half confident that the guitar is in shape, Zoe hands it back to him and gestures for him to sit on one of the stools. He does so with a wooden precision, and Zoe crosses to lean against the table on his left side so she can point out what to do.

“You see all those metal lines down the neck? Those are called frets. That just determines, like, where you’re placing your fingers to play different chords. So you count like-” she taps her fingers down the plasticy side, between each fret, “one, two, three, and on.”

“Okay,” Evan says, his brows still furrowed. He mimicks her movement. “One, two, three.”

“Exactly.”

Evan rests one hand on the neck of the guitar. “And this is the neck.”

“Yeah. So the neck just has the fret board. That’s where all the sounds come from, which you use your left hand for. And you use the right to strum.”

Before she can explain anything else, Evan splays his fingers over the fret wildly. Zoe leans forward automatically and covers his fingers with her own.

“No, no, just…” She guides his hand away, slightly towards herself. “Take just your pointer finger, see?” She points out with her left hand and he mimics her with his hand still trapped in hers. “And see the thinnest string? Towards the bottom of the guitar? Put it on that string on the third fret.”

Evan complies, and she lets his hand go free.

“And just…strum.”

His brow furrows, and he whispers “third fret” under his breath, almost absentmindedly. She feels her lips quirk up, but her smile falls a moment later when Evan aggressively strums at the guitar strings. A laugh escapes her lips, and a moment later, she hears Evan laugh too.

“Almost,” she says. “The chord was alright, to be honest. Just be gentle.”

“Gentle. Right.”

Much softer, Evan pulls at the strings one by one. They’re a little discordant, thanks to her shabby tuning job, but other than that…

“Very nice. Your first chord!”

“Yay,” Evan says lightly, almost sarcastically, but a moment later he looks back up at her, and that look from before is back on his face, longing and hopeful and infinite.

Zoe’s not sure whether she moves first or he moves first, but before she knows it they’re standing and her arms are around his neck. “Is this okay?” she breathes, and he nods, and her lips are on his.

For a moment, it’s blissful and quiet and sweet, her hands on his neck and his at her waist. But he breaks them apart not long after.

“Well,” he breathes, and the _ tick tick tick _ of the clock filters back through her ears.

“I’m glad you’re in my Lit class.”

“I’m — well, I’m not _ glad _ you missed it, but—”

She smiles, fighting away whatever other emotion is fighting for dominance with her. “Yeah. I get it.”

They separate, and Zoe bumps her hip into his as they jostle to put away the guitar, but they both still as footsteps sound beyond the music room. They lock eyes.

“Shit,” Zoe whispers, mirroring Evan. She creeps to the window in the door, out to the hallway and it’s flickering fluorescents.

It appears to be empty, but she doesn’t want to press her luck.

Gesturing to Evan to follow her, and pressing a finger to her lips, she silently opens the door and leaves Evan to shut it when he follows. But it clicks audibly with Evan’s help, and she whirls on him, widening her eyes dramatically. He presses his hands to his mouth, then moves them to say _ sorry _ as many times as his face allows.

Waving a hand in dismissal, she slides her hand into his. _ Follow my lead, _ she mouths, then steps slowly, deliberately, making herself as silent as possible. Evan’s a decent student; he’s not as quiet as she is, but he puts up a good front. Together, they creep through the halls until Evan’s hand tightens around hers only a hallway away from the library. He starts to tug her in a different direction, and she can’t see why until a shadow pricks at the corner of the hallway.

_ “Shit,” _ she whispers again, then lets herself be dragged by Evan, their footsteps, for once, audible in the hallway.

Evan leads her down a hallway, then another, until miraculously they appear at an unlocked door that he ushers her through.

“How did you know that?” Zoe says.

Evan just shrugs and leads her further into the door, revealing the library just beyond it. “It’s a common shortcut here.”

“Damn.” She knocks her shoulder into his, then curses internally, but Evan smiles and looks away, his cheeks darkening.

Zoe can barely wipe the smile off of her face as they approach the cluster of tables and resume their seats. Slowly, everyone else filters in as well.

“Was it one of you we ran into in the hallway?” Zoe asks, once all five have seated themselves, Alana looking exuberant once again and Connor and Jared still somber but occasionally catching each other’s eyes and smirking.

_ “We?” _ Jared says, his tone instantly teasing, looking between Zoe and Evan.

Zoe’s cut off — damn déja vu — by the door opening, and she knows they all recognize Mr. Howard’s footsteps by now.

“Detention’s nearly up,” he calls. “Are your assignments all complete, students?”

He takes his time walking up the aisle, his steps nearly timed to the _ ticks _ of the second hand on the clock. He turns towards them once he reaches the front, confidence oozing off of him. Staring straight down the center, he says, “Evan. Please stand and read your letter.”

“Read-read the letter? Out loud?”

“Yes, please, Evan, sometime today.”

Zoe hears Alana inhale sharply and feels her own fist clench around her pencil.

Slowly, painfully, Evan stands. His chair meets resistance against the carpeted floor, and it nearly tips, but Connor shoots out a foot to catch it. Evan smiles gratefully, albeit shakily, at Connor, then unfolds his letter with shaking hands.

“Dear Evan Hansen,” he begins, his face scrunching as he attempts to make sense of his own writing. “Today — well, today’s been, um-”

“You don’t have to, Evan,” Zoe says in an undertone.

“Fuck this,” Connor adds in.

_ “Fuck _ this.”

“Language, Connor and Zoe. Really. This is a place of learning. Go on, Evan. I remind you this is detention.”

Evan takes a shaky breath and looks up, into the eyes of the other four, all staring at him. “I’d rather not, Mr. Howard.”

Mr. Howard cocks his head to one side. “You did complete this assignment, yes, Evan?”

“Yes, Mr. Howard. But, to be frank, it’s, it’s very personal? It’s an exact assignment the school counselor asks, um, asks individuals to complete. So I’d rather not read mine aloud. Sir.”

“Well, we’re all friends here, Evan.”

“We’re _ not,” _ Alana says, rather forcefully. “You’re an authority figure, and none of us should even be serving this detention in the first place.”

Mr. Howard’s nostrils flare. “You all broke school rules and as such—”

_ “Allegedly _ we broke school rules. It’s noon. We’ve completed your assignment. Forcing us to read aloud after four hours of isolation is unjust and, as the four hours have now elapsed, the detention proctor may not keep students beyond that point unless repeat actions permit it. It’s in section 4c of the student handbook, which outlines student rights, and you approved after the last school committee meeting. Sir.”

Zoe looks, wide-eyed, at Alana; no one else can stop themselves from doing the same. Mr. Howard clears his throat; the corners of his narrowed eyes threaten all who look at him.

“Well, Alana. If you feel so strongly about this, you certainly are no prisoner. Dismissed.”

Everyone moves at once, grabbing at their belongings and shuffling away from their desks as quickly as possible. Only Evan remains seated, looking a little numb. Connor, Jared, and Alana watch while Zoe walks over and prods him gently, picking up his backpack and jacket for him. “C’mon,” she says. “I’ll drive you home.”

Smiling tightly at Mr. Howard, she leads Evan towards their friends, and they’re silent as they wind their way out of school.

Once they’re out in the cold noon air, the spell breaks. Jared whoops, and Alana grabs at his arm to quiet him. _ “Brilliant _ fucking work, Hansen, Beck,” he nearly shouts.

“Someone had to do it,” Alana says, squaring her shoulders. “Are you okay, Evan?”

He nods, sidling a little closer to Zoe. “Thanks for, well. For stepping in.”

“Of course. Howard’s a bully. Someone needed to knock him down a peg.”

“That’s fucking badass,” Jared says. “Hey, Murphy?”

“What?” Connor says.

“Not you, the functional driver. Was that an open invitation?”

Zoe looks at him, her face pulled in confusion, before she blinks. “Oh. For a ride home? I thought you drove here.”

“Yeah, but I’m hungry. I was hoping you’d stop at McDonald’s.”

Zoe wants to frown, but instead she laughs. “Fine. Get in my car.” Grabbing Evan by the hand, she leads everyone in the direction of her car. “Just for you.”

And, in the midday sun, five friends finally are rid of their high school.